Date: Sun, 6 Mar 2016 12:26:15 -0600
From: Charles Smythe <jasonsmythe7@gmail.com>
Subject: The Return Visit-[GH-06]-part-1-of-1

The Return Visit
Part-1-of-1

I've visited our local adult bookstore several times now, usually only when
my wife Barbara 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 due back until 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 firm full breasts
and soft, warm pussies?  The home sex had certainly settled down into a
relatively infrequent routine. Easy access to the Internet, ready pictures,
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 quickly back to the chat rooms. Then
more and more, I found myself talking with other guys, first creating
elaborate fantasies about our wives, and then soon, conversations about
imagined contact between ourselves.

At first it felt odd, and wrong. But the more I created these elaborate
mutual fantasies with guys online, the more intriguing the possibility of
them actually becoming real. Instant message chatting brought on the
voice-over conversations, which led to my secret purchase of a web-cam that
my wife still doesn't know about. The attraction of touching another man's
cock gradually became more appealing.

That next level was the least of my worries as I mentally slid closer and
closer to something that three years earlier 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 courage, to venture through the 1970s bead chains
that passed for a doorway into the video booth area in the back. Ten green
pressboard doors were visible in the dim light. The red light indicating
its occupancy was only glowing above one door.

I nervously entered a booth far enough away from the occupied one to feel
private. After locking the door behind me, I looked around and found myself
in a small room. In the middle of the floor a steel-folding chair sat
opened in front of a flickering blank green TV 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 one-dollar bills that 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 floor-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 cock surged as I began to flip through the
23-channels on the monitor. I learned quickly that a dollar only bought you
about 3-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, until
finally settling on a gay video. It was my first time to really watch this
kind of scene outside of the free 8-second video teasers on some porn web
sites. I turned the volume way down so that the stranger in the other booth
wouldn't know what kind of film that had me edging towards an orgasm.

I cummed relatively quickly, at least quick 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. As I continued pulling on my cock, coaching out the
last drops of cum. I heard footsteps in the out side my door, and then they
were gone. With the handkerchief from my back pocket, I cleaned myself up.
Then taking a deep breath, I left my booth with the videos still running.

Nervously I quickly exited the store without making eye contact with either
the clerk or the lone middle-aged guy peering up from the magazine rack as
I passed by. Was he the one in the other booth I wondered? 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, nervously retracing my
footsteps from the night before. Armed with a new stack of crisp one-dollar
bills, I aimed for a booth in the corner.  Again I chose a booth 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, so 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 that 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 in the magazine section and 2-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 20-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 cock while the buxom
woman plumbed the cocksucker's ass with large black strap-on.

Though momentarily lost in the video and my rhythmic stroking, I
immediately tensed when I heard the door in the next booth close and lock.
Shadows passed over the 2-small peepholes in the very thin wall. From where
I sat, I couldn't see who was settling across the wall 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 then, at that moment I wanted to be watched. I wanted to take
this next step of showing my cock in real life, to a real person. Though
the hole was only an inch or so around, I knew by the shadows when the guy
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.

Excitedly, 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 cummed 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 3 or 4-heavier pulses of cum
landed on my belly. As the final dribbles of cum 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. It was
over.

After wiping myself off, I tried to clean the cum spot off my t-shirt.
There was no way to hide it 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
that it took to walk home, reminiscing on this first encounter, if you can
call it that, I was half-hard again and had to unload a second time before
falling asleep on the couch.

Over the next few months, I visited the bookstore 6, maybe 8-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 one
of the glory holes I starting 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 people. Invariably, I cummed 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.

As far as I could tell, my voyeurs were all guys. A couple of times I got
to do the watching. The first guy that 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 first real view of
another man's hard cock.  It looked big, though perhaps in hindsight, it
was 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 cum on to the other side of the wall. After cumming, he
quickly zipped and left. I waited until 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 came into the store and
headed into the back. Two younger, Hispanic-looking girls, one small and
thin with long black hair and almost 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.

Although they never said anything to me, I heard their soft, definitely
female voices through the hole.  I turned my chair so that my cock and
balls faced the two small holes about 10-inches apart in the cubicle
divider. It got quiet on the other side as I started stroking 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 part of
the store 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 watched me before.

It was only when I heard them talking softly between themselves, the walls
muffling any chance of me understanding what they said, but as soon as I
heard them 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 3 or 4-short bursts. One of the girls laughed a little too loudly
as the other tried to shush her. Like the guys, they too, 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 web-caming with
other guys and the occasional female. Until last week, that is.

I suppose that the chat rooms, the web-cams, the voyeuristic visits to this
bookstore were simply stepping stones along 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 was never really busy.
Probably never more than 5 maybe 6-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, 3-lonely
looking men wandering through 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 booth area, hardly
noticing the faces of the other customers.

Taking up residence in `my' corner booth, I took note of the placement of
the 3-small peepholes, surrounded by a small forest of washers of different
sizes. Feeding the machine and dropping my pants to my ankles, my cock
slowly but smoothly grew in my palm. A new selection of films was available
since my last visit several months ago. Again, I settled on a threesome
video, 2-men doing the usual things to a young blonde girl and to each
other.

Perhaps 5-minutes into my viewing, the door to the next booth opened and
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 allowing 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 7-inch shaft, tipped by a long
plum-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 key chain 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 3-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 cock
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 cock through. Christ, now it was happening, to me, right here
and right now. I stood and moved closer to the wall, his 3-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. Then as he slowly stroked my
cock, his fingers caressing the head, pulling my foreskin up and back, and
squeezing gently. I wanted to moan out loud, but I'd lost track of whether
any of the neighboring booths were occupied 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 and were 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 entire length 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 could
hear the top button of my jeans clicking against the base of the wall with
each thrust. 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 3 or 4-minutes before he withdrew his mouth from my
cock. I wasn't sure why he'd stopped, until I felt the head of his cock
touch the head of mine. I'll be damned if there wasn't a little spark of
electricity that jolted through me when I felt them touch. Though I
couldn't see, pressed against the wall as I was, the identity of what had
contacted my cock 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.

With 2-fingers I reached out and nervously touched the damp tip. It felt
oily feeling from pre-cum. My fingers traced the top of his cock to where
the wall prevented any further exploration, then back underneath along the
canal that would soon erupt. His cock twitched every time my fingers grazed
the head.

I gripped this stranger's cock, and stroked it slowly at first, like he'd
done to me. Gradually increasing my speed, I felt his shaft expand and
contract. His skin felt so hot. The shaft so hard and bony, yet the skin
like velvet.

"Suck it," I thought I heard whispered from beyond the wall. I was ready
even before I heard, or imagined I heard those words. Gripping his cock and
holding it as close to the wall as I could, I licked across the tip, taking
in the drips of pre-cum that decorated his cock head. Almost without flavor
other than a slight salty tinge, it felt like slippery oil on the tip of my
tongue. From there, I ran my lips and tongue the full length of his cock,
up one side, and back down the other. Sliding underneath, I repeated this
motion on the underside of his cock, letting my mouth stop and hover with
his cock head resting on my lower lip.

Apparently he wasn't pressed against the wall like I'd been, because he
thrust forward suddenly, shoving his cock into my mouth. I swallowed him
hungrily. I felt his cock sliding through my fingers as it pumped in and
out of my wet mouth. I was amazed by how his hard cock so completely filled
my mouth. Each stroke seemed to reach deeper before he pulled back to the
very edge of my lips. It felt strange, yes, but also strangely natural, to
let him fuck my mouth as he was doing.

In hindsight, I probably sensed his eruption before it was happened. I
remember now how his cock instantly felt and felt even hotter in my mouth.
My mind had mere nano-seconds to register that this big cock was swelling
even bigger. When it happened, I swear I almost didn't feel the first shot
because his cock was so deep in my mouth. It must've emptied right straight
down my throat.

The second and succeeding shots come back to me in more detail. My mouth
poised with his cock head just inside my lips, his next blast sprayed the
inside of my mouth with his salty and sticky goo. I didn't have time to
consider the taste before he shot again. My throat opened and I swallowed
back as much as I could. He pulled from me suddenly, just as another full
load burst from his cock, this time shooting across my lips and into my
beard. He followed with several smaller twitches that had cum oozing and
dripping over his cock and into my hands. As I stroked his now sticky and
withering shaft, I licked up around the edges of his cock head, cleaning up
the last remaining blobs of cum before this cock disappeared back through
the hole.

As I was catching my breath, his fingers reappeared at the hole, signaling
me to stick my cock back through the hole. But, almost unbeknownst to me,
as he'd been cumming, without even being touched, I'd emptied my own load
all over my jeans and the floor. My flaccid cock now hung drooping, wet,
and satisfied. I fingered the streams of cum on my legs, curious whether it
was his or mine. "I'm OK," I mumbled through our 3-inch opening, "I already
cummed."

Without another word, he zipped up and left. As I sat there, bare assed on
the metal chair, the money in the video ran out.  When I ran my tongue
around the insides of my mouth I could taste little pockets of strange
juices seeped out of from the corners of my mouth. I could feel sticky
spots on my beard where his cum was starting to dry. As I pulled up my
jeans, I felt the stickiness of my own cum on my legs. Zipping up my pants,
I left my booth and headed home.

On the walk home, my mind was awhirl. `I finally did it, didn't I? I
thought to myself as I walked. `Yea, I finally did it.'  I'm still not sure
how I feel about it or how I should feel about it. But, yeah now I've done
it. `But is this the end of this path,' I asked myself, `or yet another
stepping-stone to something else? I guess I won't know, at least until the
next time my wife leaves town.'

The end...