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I’ve visited our local adult bookstore several times now, usually only when my wife is out of town. I’m not sure I could think up any excuse good enough to explain to her why I wanted to head out late in the evening, alone, and without needing anything at the store. Last Friday night happened to be one of those rare occasions. She was out of town for the evening and not coming back ’til sometime late Saturday. What brought me there on Friday night though, began several months ago.
Like many other guys I’ve run into on the ‘net, I’ve developed, in my early 40s, a curiosity about things bisexual. Who knows where this came from after 30 years of experiencing and thinking only about full, round tits and soft, tight pussies. The home sex had certainly settled down into a relatively infrequent routine. Easy access to the internet, ready pics – particularly on amateur, real people kinds of sites – and anonymous adult chat sites certainly didn’t help. Chat rooms had already led me to a briefly exciting, but potentially disastrous affair with a married woman a couple years ago.
Though I’d promised myself to stay away from them after the affair, the lure of a quick, anonymous, online conversation climaxed by a self-inflicted hand job brought me back quickly enough to the chat rooms. Increasingly, I found myself talking with other guys, first creating elaborate fantasies about our wives, then soon, conversations about imagined contact between ourselves.
At first it felt odd, and wrong. But the more I created elaborate mutual fantasies with guys online, the more intriguing the possibility of something real became. Instant message chatting brought on the voice-over conversations, which led to my secret purchase of a webcam that my wife still doesn’t know about. The attraction of touching another man’s cock gradually became less abstract and more appealing. I even went as far as buying a butt plug and seven-inch dildo to play with…on my own…to take the sensation and fantasy to the next level.
That next level was not the last though as I slid ever closer to something that three years ago I never thought I’d seek. I made my first visit to our small town’s one and only porn shop several months ago. After browsing the aisles of sex toys and girlie magazines until I mustered up the appropriate level of courage, I wandered through the 1970s bead chains that passed for a doorway to the video booths in the back. Ten green pressboard doors shadowed in the dim light appeared, only one with a red light above the door indicating its occupancy.
I entered one booth, far enough away from the occupied one to feel private, and pulled and locked the door behind me. A steel folding chair sat opened in front of a flickering blank green screen. The chair made an awfully loud creaking noise as I sat down. Trying to be quiet since I knew there was someone else nearby, I cautiously fished my wallet out of my back pocket and pulled out a small wad of dollar bills I’d been gathering through the day. As I fed the first bill into the slot, I noted a number of washers of varying sizes screwed into the ankle-to-ceiling walls separating the booths. I guessed at their origin, though none appeared to allow any view in or out of my booth.
My heart raced and my dick surged as I began to flip through the nine channels on the monitor. I learned quickly that a dollar only bought you about three minutes of video. Feeding additional bills in the machine, I settled back to watch. My cock came out soon enough. Then my jeans slipped down to my ankles, my bare ass pressed against the cold steel seat. I continued to flip quickly and repeatedly through the channels, finally settling on a gay video – my first time really watching this kind of scene outside of the free eight-second video teasers on some porn sites. I turned the volume way down so that the stranger in the other booth wouldn’t know the kind of film that had me edging ever closer to orgasm.
I came relatively quickly…at least quickly enough that I still had money left in the machine. As the first shot of cum splashed across my belly, the metal chair in the other booth abruptly screeched across the floor, and I heard the door open. I pulled tightly on my dick as succeeding shots of cum oozed out. I heard footsteps across the room behind me, then they were gone. With the handkerchief from my back pocket, I cleaned myself up, took a deep breath, and left my booth with the videos still running.
I exited the store quickly without making eye contact with the clerk or with the lone middle-aged guy who peered up from the magazine rack as I passed by. Was he the one in the other booth? I had no way of knowing if he was the one who’d cum moments before me, but the flush on my face, I’m sure, revealed the embarrassment and the exhilaration of my minute’s-old ejaculation.
The next night found me back in the bookstore, retracing my footsteps of the night before. Armed with a new stack of crisp one casino oyna dollar bills, I aimed for a booth in the corner, again a couple doors away from the only occupied cubicle. Entering the corner booth, my eyes fixed on the missing washers on the wall. Small holes, mind you, not more than an inch or so in diameter. Nervous caution took hold of me, and I passed on to a couple other booths, before settling into one without holes.
Again, with my cock in hand and pants down around my ankles I scanned several of the monitor’s offerings, both gay and straight oral films mostly. I heard footsteps come and go from the other booths, never realizing that I’d been in there for nearly 20 minutes, and still without cumming. Feeding my last dollar into the machine I knew I’d either have to head home and finish later, or break the twenty in my wallet.
As the screen turned back to a blank and too-bright green, I pulled up my jeans and took the twenty out. Waiting a moment for my boner to recede just enough, I ventured into the bright fluorescence of the main store. Approaching the clerk, I held out the twenty and asked for some ones in exchange. “How many ones?” he inquired. “What the hell. How ’bout all of ’em”, I replied, trying too hard I’m sure to sound casual. While he took a couple minutes trying to find the crispest bills, I turned around to see several other people browsing the store: A couple of other single guys and two college age girls whispering and laughing by the dildos. I waited, trying to be patient, for the clerk to finish his count and let me disappear into the back again.
I glanced again at the corner booth, the one with the holes in the wall. After twenty minutes of video and self-flagellation, my curiosity pushed me to that door. No one was in the adjacent cubicle, so I entered, locked the door behind me, and fed in a few bucks. My pants unzipped. My cock returned comfortably to my hands as I settled in, once again, to a threesome video with one guy sucking the other’s shaved and massive dick while the buxom woman plumbed the cock sucker’s ass with large black strap-on.
Though momentarily lost in the video and my rhythmic stroking, I immediately tensed when the door next to mine closed and locked. Shadows passed over the two small peepholes in the very thin wall. From where I sat, I couldn’t see who was settling in across from me. I was so turned on, so nervous, so excited at that moment that I had to pull my hand off my cock lest I shoot right then and there.
I heard the zipper on the other side. The video soon found the same channel as the one in my booth. Slowly, and quietly, I turned my chair to face the hole. Right now…at this moment…I wanted to be watched. I wanted to take this next step of showing my cock – for real – live, to a real person. Though the hole was only an inch or so around, I knew by the shadows when he (I assumed it was a he) turned and bent over to peer through.
My cock never felt so hard, or as sensitive as it did right then. I slipped my jeans down below my knees exposing my cock, balls, and thighs to this stranger. I heard no sound from the other side. I could see nothing through the hole, but the light never changed. He never moved.
I stroked my cock for this hidden stranger, slowly at first, trying to allow him room around my fingers to see me. One hand pulled on my shaft while the other fingered my now very tight balls. I came quickly and suddenly, with little warning to me, or to the one watching me. The first shot flew up nearly to my nipple, leaving a dark wet stain across my gray t-shirt. I pulled my shirt up higher as three or four heavier pulses of cum landed on my belly. As the final dribbles of semen dripped from the edge of my tingling cock, I held it out forward for my anonymous neighbor to see. All was silent and still for a moment. I heard his chair back up across the floor, the sound of a zipper again, and then his door opened. From somewhere in the distance, I heard footsteps against the muffled background music of a different film playing for some other horny visitor. And it was over.
I wiped myself up, and tried to clean the cum spot off my t-shirt. There was no way to hide it and I knew I had to carry it with me as I walked back through the store to the exit. As I left the place, a guy, perhaps a bit younger than myself, caught my eye, kind of nodded his head toward me with a slight grin. Was it a look of acknowledgement? I don’t know. All I did know is that in the 15 minutes it took to walk home, reminiscing on this first encounter, if you can call it that, I was half-hard again and unloaded a second time before falling asleep on the couch.
Over the next few months, I visited the bookstore six, maybe eight more times. Each time, I ventured to the corner booths, the only ones that seemed to regularly contain the peepholes. Sometimes different holes were covered, or new ones had appeared, but I never saw holes large enough to qualify as the gloryholes slot oyna I was beginning to read more about. With each succeeding visit, there were opportunities to watch and/or be watched, always anonymously and always without comment from the other side.
Curiously, I found being watched even more exciting than watching someone else. My cock seemed to tingle more. It became more sensitive when I exposed myself to another person. Invariably, I came too quickly, at least for my fullest enjoyment, rarely taking more than a couple minutes when I knew I had an audience. It seems my orgasms were even stronger and fuller when I was being watched through tiny holes in a dark booth than when I was fucking my wife.
My voyeurs were all guys, as far as I could tell. I got to view a couple of them as well. The first guy I watched had just finished watching me cum. He stood directly in front of the hole, pulled down his pants and stroked himself only inches from the hole. This was my real view of another man’s hard penis. It looked big, though perhaps in hindsight, about the size of my own. He was cut, and very, very hard. I kneaded my sagging, exhausted cock while kneeling on the floor peering through the peephole, a position not unlike I might experience were I sucking that cock. I saw little more than the head of his cock since he stood so close to the hole. Like me, he didn’t last long with an audience. I watched, up close, but protected by the dark green paneling, as his cock spurted and oozed strings of fluid on to the other side of the wall. After cumming, he quickly zipped and left. I waited ’til I knew he was gone, not sure I wanted to see who this stranger was.
Only once, that I know of, were females on the other side of the wall. I’d noticed them, at least I think it was them, when I’d come into the store and headed into the back. Two younger, Hispanic-looking girls: one small and thin with long black hair and unnoticeable breasts, the other a bigger girl in tight jeans and a tight top showing off some fairly ample cleavage. I’d not thought much about them and was going about my usual video and stroking routine in the corner cubicle, when the door opened next to me.
They never said anything to me, but I heard their soft, definitely female voices next to me. I turned my chair so, as before, my cock and balls faced the two small holes about ten inches apart in the cubicle divider. It got quiet on the other side as I stroked myself for them. I closed my eyes, spread my legs, and leaned back, trying to recreate their faces from my brief glimpse of them as I’d passed through the aisles earlier. I don’t know how or why, but stroking for them, I lasted…and lasted…and lasted longer than I had for any of the guys that had viewed me before.
It was only when I heard them begin to talk softly between themselves – the walls muffling any chance of me understanding what they said – that my balls began to tighten, and the familiar urgency deep in my bowels appeared. I pointed the head of my cock at the hole and emptied myself in three or four short bursts. One of the girls laughed a little too loudly as the other tried to shush her. They too, like the guys before, quickly left their booth before I had the chance to cover up and see who they really were.
I hadn’t been back to the bookstore in a few months, at least not since the encounter with the two girls. There just hadn’t been any real opportunities to sneak away from real life. My fantasies were limited – or expanded, depending on how one looks at it – to casual chatting and camming with other guys and the occasional female. Until last week.
They say the past is prologue. I suppose that the chat rooms, the webcams, the voyeuring visits to this bookstore simply mark stepping stones across the path to last Friday. I really didn’t anticipate anything more than what I’d already experienced. It’s a small and quiet town here. The bookstore is never really busy…probably no more than five or six others have ever been there at the same time as me. Fantasy, distant at that, is where I thought these thoughts and experiences would always lie.
With my wife off to another weekend class, I returned to the bookstore yet again, late on Friday night. As I walked downtown in the dark, I enjoyed the freedom of my dangling cock under my jeans as I’d chosen to leave the boxers at home. One less thing to worry about while I’m there, I’d supposed. The bookstore had its usual compliment of characters, three lonely looking men wandering the video rentals, and one woman buying something at the counter. Accustomed and unembarrassed now, I went straight back through the beaded chain doorway to the video booths, hardly noticing the faces of the other customers.
Taking up residence in “my” corner booth, I took note of the placement of the three small peepholes, surrounded by a small forest of washers of different sizes. Feeding the machine and dropping my pants to my ankles, my cock canlı casino siteleri slowly but smoothly grew in my palm. A new crop of films were on tap since my last visit several months ago. Again, I settled into a threesome video…two men doing the usual things to a young blonde girl and to each other.
Perhaps five minutes into my viewing, the door to the next booth opened, then closed. I didn’t hear the lock turn, but since there were no other occupied booths, I don’t suppose it mattered. Very quickly, I saw the shadow of a face bend down and peer through the middle peephole. I turned my chair to give the face a better look. My balls were already feeling tight. My cock felt ready to spring. I removed my hand, not wanting to generate an eruption right then and there. I let my cock twitch and stand high while my neighbor peered in.
The shadow moved from the wall exposing a thin glimmer of green light to pass through. I heard a zipper and the rustle of pants on the other side…my cue, I guessed, to peek through for a look of my own. The cock on the other side was long and straight. Dark tufts of hair underneath a flat and hairless belly surrounded an already hard seven-inch shaft (I’m guessing) tipped by a long bell-shaped cock head. My neighbor stood, slowly stroking himself for me for a couple minutes, then sat down and inched his chair close to the hole to watch me again.
Though I felt almost too close to the edge already, I gripped my cock and began a quick round of stroking for him. I had to squeeze the base of my balls several times to keep from cumming, somehow managing to hold off the inevitable.
The jingle of a keychain on the other side distracted me momentarily, but not as much as the squeaking, wrenching sound of a tightened bolt being loosened on the wall separating us. It took a moment to register what was happening, but soon enough one of the largest washers, right in the middle of the wall began to turn. It turned slowly, moving with the bolt that was spinning in the center. My heart jumped, realizing that very soon, there would be a much bigger hole between us. Confused, excited, curious, scared, too many other thoughts to properly describe here raced through my brain and my gut. Almost unconsciously, I placed two fingers on the spinning washer, permitting the bolt to turn, until it fell and clattered on the floor.
I held the washer in place for just a moment longer, still not sure what I was going to do. Slowly, I peeled the washer away from the wall, opening a hole perhaps three inches in diameter in the green wall. I leaned back in my chair, my cock slipping to half-hardness from nerves, I’m sure. I could see more of my neighbor now, though still dark. As my nerves raced and my penis twitched, his fingers came through and circled the edges of the new hole.
I’d read enough about glory holes by now to recognize this as a sign to slide your dick through. Christ, but now it was happening, to me, here. I stood and moved closer to the wall, his three fingers waiting there on the bottom of the hole for my cock. With one final hesitation, I pressed my hips forward and guided my cock into the hole. His fingers guided it through to the other side, until my pubic hairs, my balls and my belly were pressed firmly against the cool, green pressboard.
My cock hung there for just a few moments, probably not as long as it seemed, until I felt his hand grip my shaft. He stroked my cock slowly, fingers caressing the head, pulling my cut foreskin up and back, and squeezing gently. I wanted to moan out loud, but I’d lost track of other visitors coming to the neighboring booths or not. I bit my lip, closed my eyes, and let his fingers explore my cock.
Almost without me noticing, his fingers left my cock, quickly replaced by his hot mouth. He didn’t lick or tease my cock with his tongue, but swallowed it whole, taking his mouth all the way to the wall. He sucked me hard, twirling his tongue and lips over the entirety of my shaft and cock head. In moments, he built up a rhythm that had me rocking my hips into the wall, my thrusts meeting his mouth. In the background, I heard the top button of my jeans clicking into the base of the wall with each hump. God, it’d been so long since such a good mouth had swallowed my cock. I didn’t want the feeling to end.
He sucked me for maybe three or four minutes before he withdrew his mouth from my cock. I wasn’t sure why he’d stopped, until I felt the tip of his cock touch the tip of my own. I’ll be damned if there wasn’t a little spark of electricity that jolted through me when I felt that. Though I couldn’t see it, pressed against the wall as I was, the identity of what had contacted my dick was unmistakable.
I was ready now. I withdrew my cock from the tight hole in the wall, and watched as his followed through immediately after. In the dim light of the video screen, the head of his cock glistened. I moved to my knees, much as I had that very first time I’d watched someone else cum through the peephole. This strange new thing hovered now just inches from my face. Already looking solid and rock hard, it just barely fit through the hole, with not much room to spare.
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