No Going Bac

It took me several days to get up the nerve to call. I had spent one night alternating between revulsion and excitement, thinking about what had happened with Ricky. The next night, I had the same experience, imagining what it would be like in a booth at the bookstore. By the third day, I knew it was something I had to do. The fear, mixed with the desire, was intoxicating. I called Ricky and told him I'd be there at 9:00 pm.

I somehow managed to get through work that day, although I don't remember much of what I did. When I got home, I ate a light dinner and tried to read. However, all I could do was think about what lay ahead. Before long, my panties were soaked, and I desperately wanted to shove my hand inside them. I forced myself to wait, knowing that if I let myself have the orgasm that was already so close, I'd never have the nerve to meet Ricky later.

As the time neared, I took a shower to clean up the results of my fantasizing. It was nearly impossible to keep my hands from between my legs. I put on a long wraparound skirt that would give me the "access" I might want, but would look very conservative on the street. I wore flat, comfortable shoes and a dark denim blouse. As I viewed myself in the mirror, I certainly didn't see the "whore" I'd felt like the other day.

I met Ricky in the parking lot of the motel and he walked me to the back of the bookstore. We didn't go straight across the street, but circled the block and came up the alley behind the building. I knew he was trying to make me feel as secret and protected as possible, and I appreciated his concern.

We went in the bookstore through a door that had to be opened by someone from the inside. The room we entered appeared to be a kind of a waiting room. It had a couple couches, a TV and a Coke machine. There was no one else in the room, but Ricky said it was early. He said a few other girls would probably be in soon.

I walked around the room and talked with Ricky as if this were the most normal thing in the world. On the inside, my stomach was doing somersaults, and my feet and knees felt like they were in some sort of competition for the same space. Ricky went to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of liquor. He took a small flask and filled it, then handed it to me.

"I'll loan you this one until you get your own. Feel free to sample it yourself , if you need a kick for your confidence. Otherwise, keep it handy for times when a man doesn't cum as quickly as you want. You can flick some on his balls and it usually burns just enough to urge him to the end. Some girls even put some their mouths and when they go back to sucking, it drives the guy totally crazy. The old bourbon blow job, right?" He looked at me like I was supposed to know exactly what he was talking about, so I smiled and nodded like I did.

"Well, you ready?" he asked. I swallowed with some difficulty and, not even able to speak, I gestured to him to lead the way.

We walked down a hallway that I realized had to be on the other side of the booths from the regular doors. In fact, I could tell there were places to look into each booth from this side. Ricky noticed my curiosity and stopped at one where we could hear a video running inside.

"Here, look through this spot," he whispered. I put my eye to the little hole and realized it had to be placed so that from inside the booth, it was always hidden, either by the dark, or by the glare from the video screen. The film running at the moment lit up the inside of the booth just fine from my viewpoint.

Inside was just what I had imagined. A man was standing in the center of the booth. He had his zipper open, and through his pants, his erect cock poked straight out toward me. He was stroking it with his hand, slowly but intensely. I heard the video machine stop and the booth went dark. I stood very still and then I heard the clink of coins from inside the booth. The man dropped several quarters into the machine, the light came back on, and the video resumed.

The man's cock had deflated slightly from the delay, but he quickly had it long and hard again. Ricky let me stand there for another minute or two, and finally the man began stroking himself faster and harder. At last, he grabbed at his cock, tensed his hips and suddenly, a long stream of cum shot out from the tip. I swear it was such a strong stream that I thought I heard it hit the inside wall of the booth. I watched several more streams shoot from his cock and finally saw him squeeze the last drops from the end.

It was totally disgusting to imagine the floor of that booth, especially if there had been men using it all evening. Still, the vision had started my own juices flowing, and it was with a growing intensity that I leaned back from the wall and looked at Ricky.

"Don't worry," he said, anticipating my next question. "Your booth is yours alone. No cum drenched floor, I promise. In fact, it's nicely carpeted. You've even got a padded place for your knees. We don't want you wearing out too quickly, do we?"

I thought he might be trying to make a joke, but he looked quite serious. He led me almost to the end of the hall and opened a door in the wall that led into a booth. I was surprised to see that there was not even a door on the other side. The only entrance was from the hallway where I'd entered. But, I saw, there were holes in the wall on each side. I'd arrived at my final destination.

"Well, sweetheart, you're on your own," Ricky said. "You can see that no one can get to you. It'll be dark in your booth, so they can't see in. There's a little light with a switch here, so you can see as much as you want. There's a low stool to sit on if you need it, plenty of tissues, and a switch on each wall that turns on a light at the front counter. Flip either one when you're ready. Got it?"

The look on my face was probably equivalent to the proverbial "deer in the headlights," and he actually smiled a moderately reassuring smile. "It's OK," he laughed. "You'll do fine. Believe me, I know talent when I cum in it."

It was a gross thing for him to say, but I knew he was right. There was no room for embarrassment any more. It was time to do what I was here to do.

He reached over and flipped one of the switches, then closed the door behind him. I realized he was quite aware that I might have sat there for a long time unable to touch the switch. I had a minute or two to look around, feel the carpeting on the floor, and test out the padding for my knees. This was totally insane, but before I could decide to leave, I heard the door on the other side of the wall open, then close.

Quickly, I looked through the hole in the wall and saw a man's legs. I saw his knees bend and realized he was going to try to look into my booth. I moved back from the hole and saw something block the light coming from his side of the wall. My side was totally dark, so I felt sure he couldn't see in. Finally I heard him move away from the wall and I heard the clink of change as he put quarters into the machine.

I looked through the hole, and in the light coming from the video screen, I could see the man beginning to unzip his pants. In shock, I pulled away from the hole. "Oh my God," I thought. "What am I doing here?" I wanted to run from the room. I didn't want to do this.

Quietly, I opened the door about an inch. At the end of the hallway, near the door to the waiting room, I saw Ricky standing and talking to another girl. He looked down the hall toward me, saw the door partially open and took a step toward me. I closed the door. What else could I do?

As I knelt back down next to the wall, I heard a single knock from the other side. What was I supposed to do? Ricky hadn't told me. I heard another knock. Confused and scared, I knocked back.

Then, it happened. I heard the man on the other side shift his feet, and there . . . through the hole . . . a short, fat cock slid into view. As he leaned against the hole from the other side, the light coming through the hole was obscured. It was once again dark in my booth. I knew it was there; I knew there was a man's naked cock less than twelve inches from my face. The man knocked once more on the wall. He was getting impatient.

I reached out my hand to the place I knew the hole would be. I touched bare skin. I had touched men's penises in the dark before, but this was the strangest sensation I could ever remember. The penis around which I wrapped my fingers felt more like a rubber dildo than a real man's flesh.

It was thick and solid, but flexible as I squeezed it. The skin was smooth but wrinkled along the shaft. As I touched it, I began to notice its warmth, and it gradually began to change shape in my hand. It got harder and longer, but the first thing I noticed was its diameter. It was definitely fatter than I expected, and the head on it felt like a slightly misshapen golf ball.

The man was already breathing hard enough that I could hear him on the other side. "Put it in your mouth!" I heard him say with frustration. With my free hand, I held a package containing a condom, and I bit off the wrapping, spit it out, and pulled the condom out of the package with my lips. It was flavored, but it still had the rubbery feel and smell that I found rather disgusting.

I'd read in a magazine how this was supposed to be done, but I'd never imagined I'd someday have to do it for the first time without any practice. I slid the condom between my lips and my teeth, open side away from my tongue. I leaned toward the wall, using my hand on the bare cock to guide my approach. Unsure of his length, I felt my nose brush his cockhead, and I realized the moment had come. It was now or never.

The earthy, musky smell of his penis assailed my nostrils. I touched my nose again to the end of his cock, raised my head slightly, and leaned my mouth firmly over the end of his penis.

I pushed forward, feeling his large, swollen cockhead stretch my lips open wide. The condom also stretched tightly around his bulbous end, and I used my lips to unroll it as I slipped my mouth further and further along his thick shaft. Knowing this first action had to be complete to get the condom in place, I drew his cock as deeply into my mouth as possible. I felt him shove himself forward, thrusting his throbbing manhood firmly into the deepest recesses of my throat.

Fighting my gag reflex, I pulled back rather quickly, almost letting his cock fall entirely from my mouth. It occurred to me suddenly that he had no way to follow me with his hips. He had no ability to force his cock back into my throat. With a swelling sense of power, I realized I truly did have the control. He could n't make me do anything. All he could do was . . . hope.

Feeling this power gave me the confidence I had been seeking. I opened my mouth wide and drew his cock back between my lips. This time, I stopped with only his fat cockhead in my mouth, and I sucked and licked it until I could tell his entire body was almost vibrating. Then I slid my mouth deeply onto his cock and rocked my head back and forth several times, sliding him in and out of my mouth. I held him tightly with my lips, and I heard him groan as if he were fucking the tightest cunt he had even known.

I alternated the deep strokes with holding his cockhead in my mouth and swirling my tongue around and around it. I found that's what drove him absolutely crazy. I bet it didn't take three minutes until he began slamming his hips against the wall, driving his hard cock through the hole. A wicked streak inside me laughed at how I could have backed off and let him cum loosely in the condom, but this was my first time, and I knew I had something to prove, if only to myself. I leaned my mouth firmly against the hole in the wall and sucked at his cock for all I was worth. His long shaft pounded fiercely deep into my throat. Three or four such thrusts and I felt the first stream of cum begin to fill the rubber inside my mouth. He held his hips hard against the wall, and as I sucked delightedly at the hardness buried inside me, I could feel his entire body shaking against the wall on the other side.

I held him in my mouth for several seconds until I was sure he was done, then before he could withdraw, I used a tissue to slide the condom off his rapidly deflating penis. He sighed contentedly as it slid off him, and as I watched, my first success withdrew from sight through the hole in the wall.

I sat with my back against the far wall, listening to the man closing his pants, zipping his zipper, and buckling his belt. I felt a strange satisfaction, a realization that I had accomplished something beyond my wildest imagination. I was lost in my own thoughts, expecting the man to open and close the door on the other side, when I sensed the light through the hole darken as something covered it.

"That was awesome," I heard a voice say, coming directly from the hole in the wall. "It was the best anyone's ever done. Here, my telephone number is on this paper. Please, please call me. I'd give anything to see you in private. Call me, please!"

He shoved a piece of paper through the door, then I heard him leave the room and walk down the hallway. I flipped on the little light above the hole and looked at what he had written. It was indeed a telephone number, and it was written on a hundred dollar bill.