Terry did not really know what kept drawing him to the shabby little adult bookstore just off the interstate. Each time he would tell himself he was never going there again, he found himself slinking inside through that goddamned metal door with that stupid sign. That sign that said persons had to be "18 or over to enter—NO EXCEPTIONS". The fact that some dumb fuck had to add the last two words in bold letters with a Magic Marker always made Terry shake his head.
Inside, it was the usual shit just a different day. The squirrelly older guy behind the counter with all those pens in his pocket often made Terry wonder if there were any more Bics left for sale at the discount stores. The old dude had one hell of a mouth on him, though. Terry had cum in it, so he knew. The old dude did know how to treat a cock, even if he was kind of freaky.
Terry never did get the man's name. He never wanted it, and it was never offered. Every so often, when the place was dead and it was only the two of them, the clerk would tape the sign "Back in ten minits" on the door. It never took that long for the old man to take Terry where he wanted, perhaps even needed to go.
When "every so often" came about, Terry was always out of there like a shot afterwards. Just a quick "Thanks, man", and Terry was done. The old dude never complained. He never asked for reciprocation. He just gulped down Terry's load, slipped Terry's briefs back into place, kissed Terry's cock through the cotton and smiled.
The strange part was that Terry always felt something was missing each of those times. He often told himself it was because he rarely got to watch any porn in the booths. He never got to see some big-titted whore being slammed by one of those circus cocks for which porn is best known. Certainly, he had gotten off, and the old man's oral skills were far better than average; yet, Terry always left with a sense of something left undone.
Yes, deep down, Terry knew what was missing, but he could not make himself come to grips with it enough to even fathom admitting it. Terry would never admit that he particularly enjoyed cock. In fact, he enjoyed a spurting dick just as much as the old dude with all those ballpoints.
However, admitting that would be to admit the fact that Terry went to that seedy little place for more than just getting his own rocks off. Terry would not and could not ever admit that, not even to himself.
"Back again, youngun?" Mr. Bic asked.
"Yeah," Terry mumbled, trying hard not to meet the old man's eyes. Slipping a crumpled five onto the glass counter which displayed butt plugs of all shapes sizes and colors (Why were the biggest always black?), Terry said, "Tokens, please."
"All of it?" Mr. Bic asked. Terry nodded. His tone was now more professional than the flirtatious one with which he had greeted Terry. The old man knew Terry better than Terry knew himself. Terry never liked small talk. With three people, two of them a male-female couple, browsing the assorted books and videos along the walls, Terry liked small talk even less.
The old man knew Terry always needed to have a few drinks to be able enter that metal door. Lots of the guys, who patronized the place, were that way. He could always smell the odor of gin or bourbon on them, even with the counter separating him from the patrons. Still, as Terry took the bronze colored tokens and furtively turned for the thick, red curtain which served as the border between the brightly lit lobby and the peeps, the old man licked his lips. He tossed a quick, knowing wink in the direction of another regular, the guy without the girl, as Terry slipped into that red-lighted hallway.
The thing about red lights is one doesn't have to struggle to get one's bearings. While the light conceals many things, unlike darkness or more dimly lit environs, a person does not have to stand in the doorway and let their eyes adjust.
As Terry entered this red world, his demeanor changed with the lighting. While he was all business in the glare of the lobby, this hallway elicited that thing in Terry that could readily admit that the sensation of a cock sliding between his lips was a good thing---a very good thing. It was that part of him that needed to be used and used well.
Only in this place was Terry comfortable with exactly what he was—a cock hungry bitch. The sounds of the grunts and moans in the occupied booths from videos and video watchers, the smell of cum and even the disgusting, soiled booth floor caused Terry's urges bubble to the surface. Instead of his usual long, purposeful strides, Terry always found himself moving so that his ass rolled with each step. He met eyes and sometimes even drew his tongue enticingly (he thought, anyway) over his upper lip, as he slipped into a booth and left the door ajar behind him.
To Terry's deep disappointment, though two of the booths were occupied, they were across the hallway from each other. One was Number 7, which Terry knew had no glory hole. Twelve, down at the end of the hall, had a glory hole; however, the adjacent two booths on either side were out of order.
Terry resigned himself to perhaps waiting for company or even jerking off to a fuck flick; until, that is, he sensed the curtains open behind him and heard the footfalls of another lone male behind him. Without even a glance back at who might have followed him in, Terry slipped into his favorite booth, Number 4. Four had glory holes on both sides, and a long bench. It was the largest booth in the place. Terry always wondered why it was larger, but he only wondered about it when he was not in it. For now, he was just thankful it was spacious.
Terry eased in, pumped four tokens in to the slot beside the small screen and waited. He had left the door unlatched, but he had not left it open, even a bit. He always worried about cops checking the place out, and since he was so close to the lobby with no one in the preceding booths, he took the appropriate precautions.
He listened for the footsteps of that other man. He sighed softly, as the footsteps continued past. Terry resigned himself, at least temporarily, to watching the video. Realizing it was a gay video, Terry clicked the large button at the bottom of the screen to a gangbang movie. He loved those. All those cocks using one or two women gave him all he needed with which to jack off. Often, he would imagine being the owner of one of those cocks. Just as often, Terry desired to be the focus of their throbbing hard thrusts.
Terry heard the footsteps return. He heard them pause. Terry knew the drill. The guy was thinking it over. Deciding whether he wanted to slip into six or maybe even try the door to four, where Terry had by this time opened his jeans. Terry always wore a large shirt when he went hunting for cock in this place. If someone opened the door, Terry could cover up, as if all he had been doing was enjoying a movie. Yep, he thought, just a heterosexual male enjoying a fuck movie—just as American as apple pie. There was no cock hungry bitch to haul to the hoosegow.
Terry heard the door to the adjacent booth open and close. He listened but did not hear it latch. Something told him that a cop would latch the door. Whether or not this was accurate, Terry did not know. Thinking it was enough for Terry. Terry slid his jeans down to mid-thigh, and pulled his long-tailed shirt, this time a red, Terrell Owens 49er throwback, up to his taut belly.
Terry was almost thirty, but he had always been blessed with a youthful face and body that did not betray his years. From time to time, Terry still got carded at bars. He also attracted women (and, of course, men) who were looking for youthful sex partners.
A wild, tattoo-covered redhead was getting all three holes filled on the small screen in Terry's booth. The screen was covered with a stain the source of which Terry did not have to guess. The fact that the nearly transparent stain almost completely covered the woman aroused Terry even more than the cocks, two black and one white, driving in and out of her.
Her moans, of course, were dubbed and looped; nevertheless, the effect they had on Terry was if she were in the booth grunting a foot away. Precum oozed to the tip of Terry's splendid cock. The drop nestled there for a few slow strokes of Terry's right hand, until Terry spread it over the purple, mushroom head with the fingertips of his left. In the flickering light of the screen, Terry watched it glisten.
Releasing his cock, as he liked to do when he jacked, it slapped against his belly. He spied the glory hole to his left. He could tell he was being watched. He could hear the video in the next booth, but the light was blocked completely.
Terry stood, letting his jeans drop to his ankles, now stroking with his cock on full display for the spectator next door. He could hear a whispered moan, as he fingered a second drip of precum. This time, though, Terry spread the nectar on his lips. He plunged the fingertip into his mouth, sucking it clean. That drew a hoarse gasp from his new neighbor.
"Let me see your ass," the voice whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the porn stars. Without reply, Terry spun slowly around. Bending at the waist and releasing his cock in order to spread his cheeks wide, he displayed himself for the man in the next booth. He heard the man say something, but Terry could not make it out. Terry was too close to the booth's speakers.
