Johns Comeuppance

The opening line is a direct, complete quote of a response I received to a previous story. The rest is my prognostication of the respondent’s future. There’s not a lot of sex here, so move on if that’s all you’re here for. That said, this material is not intended for underaged or easily offended readers.

If you don’t like it, feel free to stop at any time. Comments are welcome—maybe I’ll turn yours into a story sometime. Criticism doesn’t bother me, but it is helpful if it’s constructive. I find that the bombastic stuff is usually written by someone who’s about 18 or 19 and has very little life experience.

All material is copyrighted by the author and may not be used without explicit permission.

“You fucking gay asshole. The stuff you write is shit,” John wrote, smiling to himself with satisfaction as he hit the send button. It was nice that this particular story site provided the ‘anonymous’ option, so he didn’t have to worry about hearing back from any of those faggy authors who received his feedback.

At 19, John felt that he was finally out from under his parents’ wings, attending a nearby two-year college and hoping that he could get good enough grades to move on to one of the four-year universities that had rejected him when he applied in high school. Never very popular in class, something of a loner in fact, John still found girls a bit intimidating and, truth be told, had very little actual sexual experience.

Oh, sure, he talked a good game with his high school and, later, his college classmates, but the most he had done was a little below-the-waist petting with the high school slut Jenny, who had the reputation for letting every boy in the class feel her up (and down, sideways, and every other way). Even that opportunity only happened because one of his friends had set it up, probably feeling a bit sorry for John who had never seemed comfortable with girls.

In any case, John had gloried in the experience of getting his fingers a bit wet. Jenny had even seeming willing to go further, but as soon as she started rubbing the lump in his pants John had gotten so excited that he lost control and shot his wad into his pants.

He thought back to that episode—the memory of which had inspired countless masturbation sessions in the months that followed—with a mixture of excitement and regret, tinged with a bit of shame as well that he hadn’t been able to take that experience further. Still, it brought his cock to a stiff erection, all 5” of it, and he quickly satisfied his desire to take it out of his pants and bring himself to a quick relief.

Really, John’s limited experience with girls, much less with women, brought a taint to all of his relations with others. So he always felt compelled, because he didn’t see any choice in the matter or, rather, any choices that he had the self-confidence to act on, to keep to himself and spend his time alone. Going to and from classes and sitting in the college cafeteria were pretty much the only times he interacted with other people.

All this time alone, of course, did nothing to quench the normal physical desires that John experienced. Everything changed when the college completed the process of updating its facilities and finally was able to provide broadband connection to each of the older dorm rooms. His professors had been urging all of their students to take advantage of all the information that was available to them, just a mouseclick or two away. John got the hang of it pretty quickly and enjoyed surfing through various media sites, entertainment news, weather information, and others. His real awakening, however, came one day when he was feeling bored with his masturbation routine and was simply going through the motions and got the idea to look for some inspiration on the web. Using just his free hand, by some fortuitous stroke, he happened on the ‘literotica’ site. Now several weeks into his first semester, John finally felt he had arrived.

The first few days after his discovery were a blur, as he spent practically every waking hour—and many when he should have been sleeping—reading through the enormous backlog of stories. He tried every genre available, but found himself gravitating toward the ‘erotic stories’ and the ‘mind control’ ones, the latter especially, as he fantasized about how nice it would be if he could control minds, so that he wouldn’t have to worry about being rejected.

John continued to spend much of his free time reading the stories, but after a few weeks, he realized he had to get back to his studies, as his grades were definitely slipping from the gentleman’s C’s he had been keeping. The erotica reading had spurred on John’s interest in gaining some sexual experience, however, and he found himself wondering what other sources there were for him.

As he was mindlessly turning through the pages of the local paper one day, he happened to see an ad for an adult bookstore. ‘Does that mean what I think it does?’, John thought. He resolved right then to go check it out. An hour later, he was wandering through the racks of porn, amazed at the variety and trying to hide the erection in his pants. Walking into the store had been really embarrassing, but he had summoned the courage and was glad that he had. It was incredible to him that such a place really existed.

John was thinking about actually buying a mag, something he had never done before, when he noticed a door toward the back of the store that advertised ‘mini-movies’. Drawn by his curiosity and more scared than ever, John ventured to the back of the store and went inside.

It was pitch black and took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust. When they did, he saw a dimly lit board on one end of the hallway, showing the videos that were playing. Up and down the hallway were a series of booths, with red lights above them, some of them on and some off. The doors stopped about a foot above the floor. There was a pervasive, antiseptic, Mr. Clean type smell in the air, and something else, pungent and familiar seeming that John couldn’t quite identify.

Mustering his courage, he opened one of the doors, assuming the red lights meant that the videos were on in there. Much to his surprise, he saw a man, totally unaware that the door had been openbed, pumping away at his cock, intently watching the screen in front of him, which showed a woman getting fucked doggie style. Shocked and embarrassed, by the display on screen and by the man, John quickly stepped out and closed the door. Wanting to run out of there as fast as he could but feeling compelled to see more, John hesitated a moment in the dark hallway. Then he picked an unlit door further down and stepped in. It was so dark he had to open the door a crack in order to find the slot where his bills went.

The screen immediately lit up, and he was quickly fascinated by the scenes of his first adult video. From his seat in the booth, he was about two feet from the screen, with L.E.D. displays to the side, showing the channels and counting down the time remaining. John was transfixed by the lurid, vulgar, and graphic images in front of him. He felt hypnotized and couldn’t have turned away if he had tried. Several minutes passed as John was aware of nothing other than what he was seeing.

Suddenly, the screen went dark, and John realized that he had run out of time. Feeling with his hands for the slot, he fed a couple more dollars in and sat back to watch some more. This time, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his straining erection. He started to stroke it and was really feeling good now, with his special feeling about to come. His attention wandered from the screen as he tried to hold out a few moments longer, and just as he was about to come, he was horrified to see an eye staring at him through a hole that was in the wall to his right. John’s orgasm was too far along to stop, and his intense reaction at being observed acted on him like a trigger, as he climaxed at the very moment that he realized that someone was watching him beat off. His orgasm was intense and out of control—his hips flexing, toes curling, stomach tightening, face grimacing, and come shooting out in every direction. Spurts hit the wall, the screen, his shirt and pants, and one even landed on his cheek.

Out of breath and feeling more embarrassed than he had ever been in his life, John hurried to close his pants and get out of there as quickly as he could. Standing up and putting his back to the hole, John cleaned himself up as best he could and walked quickly out of the store, feeling great regret that he had gone there in the first place and desperately hoping that no one would ever find out.

Despite all his best intentions, of course John did return to that store. He managed to avoid it for a couple of weeks, but he increasingly found himself thinking about the images he had seen on the screen and wanting to see them again. One time while he was jerking off he even thought about the eye and how he had gotten caught. That session too ended in a very powerful orgasm and left him in a daze.

John didn’t let himself examine his motives and avoided thinking too intentionally about what he was doing, so it seemed almost automatic when he found that he was driving to the bookstore once again, parking in the lot, and walking in. This time, he didn’t spend much time in the front of the store but soon made his way to the back, through the door, and into the dark hallway of red-lit booths. There were just a few that weren’t illuminated, but two of them were adjacent and neither was the one he had used previously with the hole in it, so he picked one and went inside. Feeding the money into the slot by hand, he quickly seated himself and checked the walls for holes. Finding none, he got down to business. John passed several minutes watching the movies and jacking himself, building up toward a powerful orgasm, when he noticed something was different. Not sure what it was, he paused, then he looked behind him to the door and realized that it had been opened, that someone was looking in at him! Shocked by this, and angry at himself for not locking the door, John reached back with his left hand and insistently pulled the door closed, pushing the lock button in the handle and making sure this time.

Despite this scare, John was still very close to orgasm and got there in just a few strokes, finding himself moaning his contentment and then feeling embarrassed about it, knowing that others no doubt could hear him and know what he was doing.

Again, John left quickly, returned to life in his dorm, and found himself masturbating repeatedly to his experiences in the video booths. Less time passed until his next visit, and he found this time that when he walked into a booth that had ‘watching holes’ in it, he didn’t really mind. Both of the adjacent booths seemed to be unoccupied, but somehow John felt a little disappointed that they were. He realized that there was something exciting about stimulating his fear of being seen or caught, about someone just inches away spying on him as he got his pleasure.

Disappointment or no, John went ahead with his business and was soon jacking merrily away. He heard some movement outside and an adjacent door being opened and closed. He hid his cock with his hand for a moment, and then realized that he wanted to be seen, and, admitting that to himself, he resuming stoking, making sure to show enough of his cock with each stroke.

When he looked toward the hole to see if an eye was there, however, he was surprised to see that a big, erect penis was sticking out of the hole into his own booth. John almost shot off when he saw it, he was so surprised. He stopped stroking himself and looked closely at the intruding cock. It was much bigger than his own, and looked fully engorged, veins bulging out on the shaft and the head looking very swollen. Unconsciously, John licked his lips and leaned a little closer to it. The man on the other side of the wall shook his dick up and down, wagging it as if to get attention. But John’s attention was already fully fixed upon it.

Feeling like he was not in control and not even himself, John tentatively reached over and gently touched the strange cock with the back of his fingers. Seeing no response and emboldened some more, John wrapped his hand around the alien cock, telling himself that he was comparing its size to his own. ‘Oh my god,’ he thought, ‘I can’t even come close to putting my fingers around it.’

John gently began stroking it, moving his hand up and down a few inches on the big cock. He probably would have done more, but hearing some voices and a couple of doors closing further down the hallway startled him out of his reverie and he drew back his hand as if he had been touching a hot poker (which, in a manner of speaking, he was).

Two stokes on his own poker had him spurting out another load of semen on the floor, and he left, again promising himself that that was the last time, that he wasn’t ever coming back to that ‘perverted place’ again.

No one would be surprised to learn that John did return, many times in fact. Over the next several years, as he finished his associate’s degree and, unable to get into a four-year, began working in the real world and living on his own in reality, without his parents’ support finally, John came to rely upon the bookstore as his personal retreat, where he went whenever he was feeling particular stress. The practice must have done some good, moreover, because he found that he was slowly becoming more comfortable around women and, eventually, when he turned 25, he married one.

John’s visits did not stop with marriage, however, regardless of the repeated promises he made to himself about stopping that ‘perversion’ once and for all. He didn’t come as frequently but was still a fairly regular visitor, dropping by after work a couple of times a month. And his forays into new, different experiences progressed over the years as well, so that he had become an accomplished cocksucker, able to give as good as he could get, and he also had discovered that loved getting fucked in the ass by a nice big cock.

He never even remotely considered himself as being gay, or even bisexual. He knew in his heart that he loved only women. He had no trouble performing in bed with his wife, and he had never found himself to be attracted to men, though he did recognize some fascination with their cocks and acknowledged his pleasure in doing all things sexual with them.

John never told his wife Nancy about his ‘outside activities’, keeping those secrets locked within himself. However, he did begin fantasizing about ways to bring more excitement into their lovemaking. He began talking with her about different fantasies she might have. She admitted readily to enjoying being tied up or controlled some, and they explored those kinds of scenarios. One day when John pushed her for some more ideas he got another surprise, when she confessed that she ‘always had imagined what it would be like to get fucked by another man’. John didn’t know how to react—to himself or to her—when she first said that, in the throes of lovemaking, but as he thought about it later, the idea became increasingly appealing to him.

He began mentioning the idea of another man to her when they were in bed, and it soon became a standard fantasy they shared. But whenever he broached the subject, she told him that ‘fantasy is one thing, but reality is quite different. That would completely change things and I wouldn’t want that.’

Still, John harbored his desire to fulfill that fantasy and, ultimately, he succeeded in bringing off his plan. It wasn’t exactly as she had talked about in their fantasies though. Since Nancy would never agree to his setting such a situation up, John did it on his own. He found a co-worker, Roger, who seemed the right type, and he found ways to throw the two of them together when he was out, letting Roger in on his secret and encouraging him to try to bed Nancy.

Within a couple of months, John managed to achieve his desire and, from his hiding place in their bedroom closet, watched Roger deftly slide his beautiful cock into Nancy for the first time. He was a little surprised at the extent of Nancy’s enthusiasm, and he almost felt sorry for her when he ‘returned home’ that evening, having escaped while she was cleaning up in the bathroom, to find her exceptionally loving and attentive to him, knowing that she must have felt guilty for what she thought was a huge betrayal on her part.

While thinking about how far they had come as a couple, and how far he had come as an individual, from the introverted, self-conscious, judgmental, and inexperienced young man to the person he was today, John really couldn’t believe. He wanted to tell someone, to talk about all of this, but he didn’t feel that he could. And he regretted that he had achieved his dreams of watching Nancy be with someone else in a secretive way, because now he couldn’t talk with her about it without showing himself to be a manipulative, deceitful person.

Then he realized that he could write about it and share his experiences with others on the web. With some time on his hands, he quickly wrote down a slightly fictionalized story of his experiences, he sent it off and thought no more about it for a few days.

When he logged back in, he checked his personal hotmail account and read this message from an anonymous user: “You fucking gay asshole. The stuff you write is shit.”