I was married young to an ambitious man, moved across the country to a wonderful big home, and saddled with two beautiful daughters to raise while my husband continued to work and make his fortune. I don't blame my husband for anything, and I love him very much, but the stinging loneliness of raising two infants while being so disconnected from everything I knew hurt me. One by one my friends stopped making the effort to stay connected, and I had little time or success establishing new friends locally.
I found myself being a mother, socially isolated and sexually frustrated. I turned to the internet, online porn and sex chat rooms. Every moment I wasn't a perfect mother I was prowling on line, masturbating and expanding my sexual interests in ways that would have shocked me when I was younger.
When I turned 21 my oldest daughter started pre-school, and the next year so did my youngest. I found myself with even more time alone, and my sexual fantasies and longing for male contact was overwhelming. My husband was no longer coming home at all. He was fooling around with a series of younger women, and if I saw him on our daughter's birthday, it was a special occasion.
My obsession with online porn was an obsession with male genitalia, cock. Videos and pictures of horny pornsluts drooling over and worshiping cock obsessed me. Eventually I came to enjoy bukkake, blowbangs, gloryhole videos and more. Just the thought of these images made my cunt ache and drool. Part of me regretted having been married and I dreamed of being one of those women who did anything on video without shame or dignity. But I loved my daughters, and they needed a mother.
Still, the need persisted. Though my husband was never around my daughters and I were well provided for. I never had to work, I enjoyed plenty of spending money, a large SUV to get the kids where they needed to be, a house with maid service and gardeners, everything a bored housewife needs to plunge into a life of loneliness, depression, booze and drugs and infidelity.
I was at the gym, having just dropped my girls off at kindergarten and pre-school, working the exercise bike hard. I was one of those women who worked up a lot of sweat at the gym, and if I pushed myself hard, and worked it just right, I could orgasm, quietly, on the bike. I knew that some of the people around me were aware of this, and I could feel their eyes on me, but women who do this aren't exactly uncommon, and good gyms prevent obvious ogling and rude behavior.
My mind went to its happy place, thinking about cocks and cum, when a news announcer on the television mentioned arrests at an adult bookstore. I slowed slightly, and listened intently, afraid to look up at the screen and show an interest in such a lurid subject. From listening and catching a peek, it was obvious that these men were arrested for participating in lewd acts in the peepshow booths at the store.
I was fascinated, and when I got to my car, still soaked in sweat, my skin steaming in the cool outdoors, I looked on my phone for more information. The store where the arrests took place was in my state, but there was a string of such stores just over the border, the closest just under an hour's drive. I had four hours before I had to pick up my daughters. Without even thinking about it, I started to drive.
An hour later I was in the parking lot of the adult bookstore and arcade. It was a drab building, with only a few cars in the lot. Across the street was a strip club that didn't open until 4pm. Still dressed in my gym tights and tank top, I put on a sweatshirt, pocketed my ID and some cash, and hid my purse under the car seat.
I walked quickly to the door of the shop, head down, not wanting to be seen, but then, who would know me out here, in a town I'd never visited before? I pushed the door open and entered the shop. It was a sex shop, and I had never been in one before. The man behind the counter, older, white, fat, smiled briefly at me when I entered. I pretended to be interested in the sex toys, the DVDs, even the pot pipes they sold.
In the back of the shop was a stairway leading to the basement, with a broken neon sign that said, ARCADE. I stared at the rules posted under the sign - a minimum of $5 in tokens was required to go downstairs.
"Can I help you, Honey?" said the man behind the counter, who I would later learn was Ed.
"I - I need $5 in tokens," I said nervously, pulling a $20 from my pocket.
Ed smiled. "$20 gets you an extra $2 in tokens. It's a better deal."
Without thinking I immediately agreed, scooping up the tokens into my sweatshirt pocket.
"Thanks," I said, heading for the stairs.
"Have fun, Honey," said Ed with a smile as he put my $20 in his register.
The downstairs was dark, and it took my eyes a second to adjust. From behind the doors of the various peep booths, I could hear the grunting, moaning, screaming sounds of porn. I saw a man, younger, skinny, looking at a frame where the video boxes of the movies available for viewing inside the booths were showcased. He looked at me with some embarrassment. I felt the same.
I walked around a little and realized that the basement arcade was bigger than just one hallway. There were actually three sections, and at the back of the third section was mop and bucket, in the same room as a dingy toilet. It was at this time I started to understand the smell of the place. Bleach, sweat, breath, mildew, piss and lastly, the faintest hint of cum.