A gay story: Bookstore Tales
I have visited a sex shop a few times, normally when my wife is away. I couldn’t come up with a good excuse to explain to her why I wanted to go there alone, late at night, without needing to buy anything. One Friday night, my wife happened to be out of town, giving me a chance to go to the shop.
My curiosity about bisexuality started a few months ago, which is not unusual among men in their 40s. After 30 years of being solely interested in full breasts and tight vaginas, I suddenly developed an interest in something different. The sex at home had become routine and infrequent. The easy accessibility to the internet and amateur porn sites only fueled my curiosity. I also indulged in anonymous adult chat rooms, which led me to have a short but potentially damaging affair with a married woman.
Despite promising myself to stay away from it, I couldn’t resist the allure of quick and anonymous online conversations that ended with a self-induced hand job. As my fantasies evolved, I found myself talking to other men and creating elaborate scenarios about our wives. Soon enough, I was engaging in conversations about physical interaction between us.
Initially, it felt weird and wrong, but eventually, the idea of touching another man’s penis became increasingly appealing. I even bought a webcam, unbeknownst to my wife, to take my fantasies to the next level. My explorations soon led me to purchase a butt plug and a seven-inch dildo to fulfill my desires on my own.
However, I craved something more, something tangible. That’s when I made my first visit to our small town’s only porn shop. With some courage, I ventured through the store, browsing sex toys and magazines until I felt ready. I finally made my way to the back of the shop, where ten doors stood behind bead chains from the 1970s. Only one had a red light above it, indicating that it was occupied.
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.
xxx
The next night found me back in the bookstore, retracing my footsteps of the night before. Armed with a new stack of crisp one 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.