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My heart raced and my cock surged as I began to flip through the 23-channels on the monitor. I guessed at their origin, though none appeared to allow any view in or out of my booth. As I fed the first bill into the slot, I noted a number of washers of varying sizes screwed into the floor-to-ceiling walls separating the booths. Trying to be quiet since I knew there was someone else nearby, I cautiously fished my wallet out of my back pocket and pulled out a small wad of one-dollar bills that I'd been gathering through the day. The chair made an awfully loud creaking noise as I sat down.
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In the middle of the floor a steel-folding chair sat opened in front of a flickering blank green TV screen. After locking the door behind me, I looked around and found myself in a small room. I nervously entered a booth far enough away from the occupied one to feel private. The red light indicating its occupancy was only glowing above one door. Ten green pressboard doors were visible in the dim light. After browsing the aisles of sex toys and girlie magazines until I mustered up the courage, to venture through the 1970s bead chains that passed for a doorway into the video booth area in the back. I made my first visit to our small town's one and only porn shop several months ago. That next level was the least of my worries as I mentally slid closer and closer to something that three years earlier I never thought I'd seek. The attraction of touching another man's cock gradually became more appealing. Instant message chatting brought on the voice-over conversations, which led to my secret purchase of a web-cam that my wife still doesn't know about. But the more I created these elaborate mutual fantasies with guys online, the more intriguing the possibility of them actually becoming real. Then more and more, I found myself talking with other guys, first creating elaborate fantasies about our wives, and then soon, conversations about imagined contact between ourselves.Īt first it felt odd, and wrong. Though I'd promised myself to stay away from them after the affair, the lure of a quick, anonymous, online conversation climaxed by a self-inflicted hand job brought me quickly back to the chat rooms. Chat rooms had already led me to a briefly exciting, but potentially disastrous affair with a married woman a couple years ago. Easy access to the Internet, ready pictures, particularly on amateur, real people kinds of sites, and anonymous adult chat sites certainly didn't help.
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Who knows where this came from after 30-years of experiencing and thinking only about firm full breasts and soft, warm pussies? The home sex had certainly settled down into a relatively infrequent routine. Like many other guys I've run into on the 'net, I've developed, in my early 40s, a curiosity about things bisexual. What brought me there on Friday night though, began several months ago. She was out of town for the evening and not due back until sometime late Saturday. Last Friday night happened to be one of those rare occasions. I'm not sure I could think up any excuse good enough to explain to her why I wanted to head out late in the evening, alone, and without needing anything at the store. I've visited our local adult bookstore several times now, usually only when my wife Barbara is out of town.