Back Country Bookstore

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Another true story.

These days our rowdier sexual exploits happen far from home. Cindy and I are visible personalities in our small city, with civic involvements and other high-profile interests that make people take notice. Pictures of either of us have been “above the fold” on Page 1 of the local newspaper a dozen or more times in the past fifteen years. We’re unconventional personalities doing interesting and creative things, and it simply doesn’t dawn on folks that interesting, unconventional and creative doesn’t stop at the bedroom door. Really, people? Think about it.

Putting the obvious aside, one of the main reasons for away-from-home public sex play was an “Oh, shit!”, an unintended and unwanted encounter several years ago with a local professional acquaintance and her husband at a swinger bar sixty miles away. She already had a reputation, so no skin off her nose. Longer story short, it did have repercussions for us including Cindy losing her job, and we’re still having issues resulting from it in some respects. So even in retirement we now limit our play to far-off locales, with potential sexual adventures worked into travel itineraries.

A family gathering 500 miles away was one of those opportunities. Craigslist’s adult connection personals were still online at the time, and were a rich source of leads for anonymous sex venues along our route. I did our homework, and found what sounded like a good candidate near our reunion city: some of the personal ads were looking for meet-ups in this particular adult bookstore’s “lounge area”. That was a pretty good indication they were setup for on-premises sexploits.

The bookstore was a fair distance off the main roads, on a two-lane state route through a river valley. We booked a room at one of the name-brand hotels on the Interstate nearest the turnoff for the state highway; also close enough to the big city to be convenient for the family gathering.

Our obligations completed, on our drive back to the hotel we were discussing the evening’s game plan. “Uhh… I didn’t bring any play clothes,” Cindy warned. Damn. U-turn to the mall. The best we could find was a so-so sundress; the hem was too long and the skirt was lined, so other than the spaghetti straps and tight bodice it really wasn’t her style and not all that sexy. It would have to do.

After a “disco nap” to revive us for late-night activities, we find the two-lane and head north to the little town with the bookstore. Oh my god was it foggy. We crept along white-knuckled, hoping that the locals used to such conditions weren’t driving the route from memory and feel, not expecting out-of-towners to be in their way at half the speed limit.

Not to worry, we found the bookstore, the fog having lifted enough to see the barely lit portico, “ADULT BOOKS” and “XXX ADULT TOYS”. We park close, gather ourselves up and peer into the store, a very small room hopelessly claustrophobic with adult toys, videos, lingerie, and everything under the sun with sexual pretenses hung on the walls and anything else that might have been stationary for more than half an hour.

We slink to the counter and somehow managed to find the clerk hiding in the clutter. I query with much hesitation, “I hear you have a lounge.” “$15 for couples, no out and back. Through there,” as he tilts his head towards a beaded-curtained doorway.

“Chatty!” under her breath as gaziantep bayan escort Cindy rolls her eyes. On tendering the entry fee, we part the beads, then find a door to the left. Through the door and to our right is a sizable great room with a surprising amount of furniture: nice-ish imitation leather sofas and loveseats, occasional tables and a few TVs scattered around. Immediately to our right is a raised area that for lack of better description is an observation deck with a lean railing. Interesting.

It dawned on me that the adult bookstore must be a contrived front for the swinger lounge, as this back area is everything the store isn’t.

As Cindy and I slowly pass the loveseat next to the deck, she semi-whispers, “When’s the show start?” A tranny on the observation deck is right on it with a syrupy, “Oh, honey — you’re the show tonight!” in recognition of Cindy’s Scandinavian blonde striking good looks. Mature, for sure, but nonetheless still turn-your-head, catch-your-breath eye candy. We and everybody else in the room crack up. Talk about breaking the tension! We’re still giggling, the big leatherette sectional sofa behind a coffee table is unoccupied and we spread ourselves into the thick cushions.

Scanning the room finds two couples making out and two guys sitting at a bar table in an alcove behind the big sofa. All were watching us come in, but there was nothing much happening beyond that. Three little rooms off one side of the great room each had a loveseat and a TV showing porn, though I later notice one of these rooms had a small bed instead of the loveseat. Behind and around the raised deck towards the entry is a small theater room with gay porn on a big screen, across from it is the restroom. Two guys are in there sucking each other, and we shrug our shoulders. A third enters the theater, whips it out, and bodies move around to accommodate.

While we’re checking things out one of the small-room doors opens and a hetero couple walks out to find an empty loveseat. Okay, with the gay theater activities and these two apparently “done” I guess this place does see action. It wasn’t looking too good up to that point.

Back on the sofa we cuddle, embrace, kiss and start getting “handsy” with each other to get our own juices flowing. One of the guys behind us at the table moves to a chair across from us for a better view.

We aim to please. With Cindy leaning into me, I lift her hemline enough to show bare thigh and ass to underscore she is wearing nothing underneath.

This catches the attention of the remaining fellow at the table in the alcove. He unzips, pulls it out, and stimulates beginnings of an erection, focusing on Cindy, wearing a wry, mischievous smile. I nudge her to “turn around, you have a fan.” She makes eye contact, and swoons into me in the realization he is the spitting image of Kris Kristofferson as he appeared during the ’90s. Oh, dear, what have we done?

Our response? I lift her dress that much more for full views of pussy, by now the lips slightly swollen and blushing with arousal. She has a major “thing” for Kristofferson, as you can guess by now. She drapes one leg over my lap so as to spread for “KK”‘s benefit while I stroke her labia and lightly massage her clit. “Your move,” I think to myself.

Eventually I glance back and he did indeed up the ante. He is now nude, having removed his clothes, setting them on the table, and is leaning back on the stool stroking his attractive but somewhat modest cock in earnest. I softly suggest to Cindy that it is, wait for it, uncircumcised. A big fetish of hers! She whips around to confirm, “May I?” she gasps. Of course you can, dear. That’s why we’re here. Hold on while I remove your dress.

It took a second or two or three to untangle from the unfamiliar straps, but once freed she bounded in her nakedness to assist her new friend. I’m so much chopped liver, evidently. (Just kidding. Participating in her pure, uninhibited joy and radiating warmth is intensely gratifying in and of itself.)

They caress each other for a few minutes and share lightly probing kisses. Their activity is more romantic than overtly sexual, only gently touching breasts, pussy or cock as their hands move over each other’s bodies. I’m actually not watching all that intently which is unusual for us, but this is her special moment to act-out a longtime fantasy and I shan’t distract. Out of the corner of my eye I catch them cheek-to-cheek and Cindy whispering in his ear. He nods, she turns around, leans over, and he stands up. From my angle it looks like he’s probing… something… with his cock. Maybe just running it up and down her butt crack, maybe stroking her pussy, maybe massaging her clit. I don’t know.

She starts to moan lightly and the mystery is soon resolved as she rocks back and forth. She asked him to fuck her. Aside from the visual of an uncut cock she likes so much, she reminds me in my “cut” state that an uncircumcised penis is so much more pleasurable for her since the foreskin rolls in and out instead of the penetration and motion being all about the friction.

They are in no hurry. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes of slow fucking, she is absolutely savoring the rare sensations of his uncut cock. Both are breathing deeper and more intensely.

Suddenly he pulls out. What the …?!? He lays his cock in her butt crack, presses his balls into her ass, softly moans, and holy shit, ejaculates with so much force his cum flies over my head and across the room, nearly finding a target in the guy sitting in the chair. Barely missing, it hit the wall, seven or eight feet of total trajectory.

Everybody’s chins drop to the floor. Cindy regrets to this day asking him to pull out. What that could have felt like, all that energy hitting her from within.

Enough of his warm spunk landed on her lower back to elicit an “Oh!” response from Cindy. She likes the sensation, to her surprise. After turning around to enjoy a sustained “thank you” kiss, she backs away, slightly stooping as she slowly pads back to her spot on the sofa so she doesn’t drip. I am ready with tissues to wipe her off before taking her seat in hopes of not smearing the stickiness all over the cushions.

Still basking in the glow of the experience, she slumps down in the cushions and softly beckons, “May I have more, please?” in a fake Cockney accent. This is a joke we frequently share, a sort-of quote from the movie Oliver!. I’m already nude, and hard, prepared to reclaim my wife. As I stroke her clit with my cock and begin to move the strokes down to enter her pussy, she softly asks “Cum on me, please. With help?”

She’s asking for a cum bath, not something we had ever done before, at least not by intent. She didn’t even know what a cum bath was until after we left and I told her that’s what it was called. Anyway, I back away and glance at the guy in the chair watching us, give him the “Interested?” look. He arises, lowers his pants, leans over the sofa and masturbates over her naked body. “Tits, please,” she says. He cums per request then backs away quietly to collapse in the chair he started from, sated.

I look around for other potential takers. Another who had arrived after us indicates with a twinge of reluctance that he’s interested, and assumes the position of the previous guy. Cindy points to her solar plexus, “There.” He has a little trouble rubbing one out in the expectation to perform on demand, but finally he clenches, yielding a couple of decent spurts. Once more I scan the room, making eye contact with two more late arrivals whose expressions in response are “Thank you for asking, but…”.

So it’s up to me to finish the job. I reach into our play kit for lubricant, some for myself, some on my glans to massage into Cindy. I rub my cock against her clit for a few strokes, take a couple of laps inside her pussy, then pull out, rise up, and stroke my shaft in earnest to finally release what had been building up in the previous two hours of intense foreplay.

Cindy purrs as I squirt all over her chest. It was much more than usual, a copious amount of sperm and especially seminal fluid that seems to be the case when we engage in hours of anticipation and foreplay. She’s loving the lingering warmth and the sensations.

She sighs deeply in the satisfaction of… well, everything. She starts to get up, but with three guys’ worth of semen accumulated I have to stop her to wipe just enough off lest she leave a trail of cum en route to the restroom. I’m not a “clean her up” sort of cuckold, just responsible and considerate.

As she returned from her light wash-up, the Kristofferson doppelganger is dressed and readying to leave. Cindy bypasses me and walks straight over to him still fully nude, presses into him with a big hug and a light peck, and he beats her to the punch with a big, “Thank you. You guys are fun. I had a great time.” Very gracious and genuine, he shakes my hand, “Beautiful lady. You’re a lucky guy. Thanks again.” I nod in acknowledgement.

We’re soon to follow; we dress and gather our stuff, say goodbye to the few remaining in the room, and get a huge smile and a wink from the transvestite on our way out. Yep, she was absolutely right, Cindy was tonight’s feature.

The afterglow we were both experiencing on the way back to the hotel didn’t exactly part the thick fog on the two-lane, but it certainly made the drive less tense.


There was a subsequent trip a few years later for another family gathering in the same general direction, albeit further away. I planned the travel schedule around overnighting at a hotel close to the “bookstore” for the possibility we could repeat or expand upon the experience.

A truism for us by now, it seems to be the case with our playing with friendly strangers that the first time at a venue is usually the best experience. Subsequent visits are frequently disappointing in one respect or another. This was the case on this repeat visit. Despite being a Saturday night, there was no crowd, just one guy hanging around the door to the gay theater who was clearly not interested in us. We messed around a little with her strutting around naked for a while mostly to kill time anticipating other arrivals, but anything more was not to be.

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