I told myself I'd never do it again. It's too dangerous, I'd said to myself. There are better, safer ways of getting off. Still, there I was, cruising up and down the street in the seedier part of town, looking for the adult video store, going back to the glory hole.
I hadn't been there in a while. I define myself as a straight man, and I've never actually been in bed with a man. All my lovers have been women, and all of my porn is either straight or lesbian. Thing is, though, if a man is between girlfriends and wants his cock sucked with no fuss and no questions asked, there's really only one place to go, and that's somewhere where men go to have casual sex with other men. Public restrooms are too risky, and there aren't any bathhouses near where I live, so that left the video store. I can still remember the first time I went there, and walking out afterwards, a little dazed, thinking, "Damn--wish I'd known about this earlier."
So, I'm driving up and down the street, looking for the familiar "XXX" sign, and about the third pass I see a small store about where I expected the video store to be; I'd ignored it the first couple of times I drove past it. It was painted in subtle colors, not the garish purple that the video store had been, and had one other difference: the small parking lot was almost full. The old store had usually had only a few cars at once, probably because the married and otherwise ostensibly straight men (like me) were afraid of running into someone that they knew there. I found a spot to park and walked around to the front door. The sign read "Erotic Toys and Media", which sure was different from the old store, but I was reassured that at least it was the same sort of business, more or less. I went inside.
If the outside was changed somewhat, the inside was completely transformed. The first thing that I noticed was the smell. The old place had smelled of bleach, most strongly inside the video arcade, where it was used to mop up cum from the floors. There was a slightly musky scent in the air, but otherwise the place just smelled clean. The store had obviously been remodeled, and even the merchandise seemed newer, as if their stock actually turned over once in a while, instead of being a front for the arcade. There were plenty of people in there too--singles of both sexes, and couples as well, both gay and straight, browsing the magazine racks and comparing sex toys. The biggest shock, though, was behind the sales counter. Instead of the drab, almost sexless people of indeterminate age that usually staff adult stores, there were two young women who looked like they'd be more at home in a regular bookstore or a coffee shop, and yet they were casual and relaxed as they chatted with customers and rang up their purchases of dildos, buttplugs, pocket pussies, and lubes of different flavors. Something about watching the short, slim Asian woman behind the counter handling a big silicone cock and smiling was very arousing, and yet at the same time I was very self-conscious about being in there. The place had gentrified, and I couldn't imagine that guys still went into the back room to suck and be sucked. Even though I'm clean and have a decent appearance, suddenly I felt like the stereotypical grubby pervert in the dirty trenchcoat.
Unfortunately, there was no other adult store that I knew of within reasonable driving distance, and I was horny as hell. There was still a VIDEO ARCADE sign on the door next to the counter, and I thought that I'd at least check out the situation; if it didn't look promising, I'd buy a DVD and some Astroglide and go home to beat off. I bided my time while the saleswomen dealt with other customers, browsing through some of the mature women magazines (I prefer older women) and noting some that I'd purchase on my way out, and when the sales counter was clear I casually walked up to the counter. One of the young women left, pulling her cell phone out as she went into the staff room, and I was left with the Asian woman.
"How can I help you?", she asked, and smiled. She was not only good looking, but also reasonably stylish, with a chin-length haircut and those sort of horn-rimmed glasses that the kids wear.
I sort of stuttered, "Three dollars' worth," and pointed toward the token dispenser. As I took the money out, she reached over to the dispenser without looking and pumped three times, then put them in my hand. Her fingers stroked my palm lightly as she handed the tokens to me, and I had a sudden flash of her pumping lube out of one of the big containers with the same motion, then wrapping those small fingers around my cock and stroking. I blushed a little and went into the arcade before I got a hardon in front of this woman who had to be ten years younger than I was.
As I walked into the arcade, again, I first noticed what was missing--that smell of disinfectant-over-semen that was the standard perfume of every other adult-store arcade that I'd ever been to. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, a man walked out, and actually stumbled into me. We turned toward each other at the same time, and I noticed that he was sweating a little and that his legs were trembling. He mumbled an apology, turned to go, and then turned back to me, running his hand through his hair, and said, "Man, that was..." He paused, as if searching for words, and then shook his head. "Absolutely unbelievable. Have fun," he said, and then walked out. I thought, well, maybe I hit paydirt after all.
I strolled around, glancing in the booths, and didn't see any glory holes in the booth walls. That's not unusual--the action usually happens in the back. I walked to the back, and immediately noticed the Occupied light on the booth that was farthest in the corner. Jackpot! I thought, and walked over to the booth next to it, closing and locking the door. Before dropping tokens in the slot next to the screen, I bent down and looked through the glory hole in the right side of the booth at the occupant of the booth next to me; I don't always like to do that, since I want to imagine that it's a woman sucking me off. On the other hand, sometimes they have someone in the booth with them, and I didn't want to wait too long.
What I saw shocked me so much that I crouched there for what had to be over a minute, just staring. It was a woman, and in fact just about the last sort of woman that I'd expect to see in a porn store arcade booth, except for a nun, maybe. She looked to be in her early forties, with the first signs of laugh wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. She was wearing a dark business suit with a skirt that came to just above her knees and a light colored blouse; her dark blonde hair was short, but not too short, and she was wearing just a little makeup, as if she'd just come from work in some sort of executive position; in fact, she sat there, looking at the screen (I could hear the moans and gasps) with a sort of mild interest, as if she were at a typical but not too boring board meeting. Even with the store cleaned up, remodeled, and somewhat gentrified, I would never, ever imagine someone like her coming in, unless it was wearing a hat and sunglasses, and certainly not sitting in front of a glory hole, watching explicit videos and waiting for company to come into the booth next door.
Finally, I realized that I was in a booth with the door closed and locked, but without tokens in the machine to turn the Occupied light on, something which usually brings the wrath of store employees down. I put all of my tokens into the slot, dropping a couple on the floor in my nervousness, and the screen instantly lit up with a randomly selected video, some Jenna Jameson lookalike getting it from behind and pretending that she liked it. With the screen lit up, I could see the booth, and noticed that it was just as neat and spotless as the rest of the store. The sign by the door had changed; instead of the hypocritical "No sexual activity/more than one person in the booth" ass-covering stuff (as if anyone came into the booth for anything else!), it said to use the tissues provided and to please be considerate of the next occupant. The glory hole, about nine inches in diameter and waist-high, had smooth, rounded edges, unlike the typical crudely-sawn hole that threatened to abrade your cock if you were taller or shorter than the average. There was also another hole, about face-high, further up the wall--could you see into the other booth if you wanted to? I was curious, but thought that I'd play it cool for the moment.
I sat down and, while pretending to watch the video, glanced out of the corner of my eye at the older woman; I could see her from about mid-chest up. She didn't seem to notice that I was there, although I thought I saw her eyes flicker in my direction once or twice, the way that someone does when they're looking at you in their peripheral vision but don't want to make eye contact. After a few minutes, she slouched in her chair a little. She reached into her jacket, as if she were going to pull out a business card or something, but her hand stayed there, moving slowly. I realized that she was fondling her tit. All right, I thought, the show has begun! She did that for a little while, then reached down with her other hand, below my field of vision; that arm started moving slowly, and her eyes seemed to glaze over, looking at the screen without really seeing it. I just had to see what the other hand was doing.
I stood up in a half-crouch, and saw that she'd spread her legs a little and was stroking the inside of one thigh, slowly. To my delight, she was wearing a garter belt and stockings that left the tops of her thighs bare. Her hand stroked higher and higher on the inside of her thigh, her legs spread a little more with each stroke, and then she moved her fingers lightly over the crotch of her dark, satiny panties. Suddenly I had to see her face, and bent down a bit more; her eyes were closed in concentration and she was biting her lower lip, something I found intensely erotic. I had never seen a woman masturbate before, at least in person.
It was a hell of a show, but I wanted to see all of her at once, if I could, and glanced up at the head-high hole in the wall, which had a small mirror off to one side. Moving slowly, so as not to startle her, I stood up and moved closer to the wall. I glanced through the hole, and received another shock. It wasn't just a bare hole in the wall; there was some sort of lens behind it so that I could see a wide-angle view of the other booth, all the way down the other side of the wall, in fact. The booth seemed much larger than the one that I was in, but I couldn't see much more than what was right in front of me, because the view was a little dimmer than through the waist-high hole. Something about that difference told me that the wide-angle lense was behind a one-way mirror; I could see all of her, but she couldn't see me.
