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.
xxx
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 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.
xxx
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.
xxx
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 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.