It never occurred to me to visit an adult theater, I never once thought of it as an option. I never gave adult theaters much thought other than from what I saw in movies, Hollywood’s occasional seedy portrayal, or when certain politicians and celebrities were scandalized for getting caught visiting one. So… how did I end up in one with the wettest pussy I have ever had?
It started with an email from an older man I fondly refer to as Lawyer Guy. I am not sure how much older he was than me, fifteen-ish years I would guess. We had been meeting off and on for a couple years, very brief encounters that involved no friendly chit chat, but were always an opportunity for me to swallow his throbbing cock and drink his cum. I wouldn’t necessarily call him a friend nor would I call him a fuck buddy since we never fucked. I didn’t call him by his name nor did he call me by mine, an arrangement that worked for both of us – just a little something on the side as needed.
When he wanted something from me, he emailed, and if it worked with my schedule, I provided what he desired. Sometimes I emailed him wanting to meet but ultimately he was in control, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
I was working out at home when I got his email that morning, doing my cardio on the stationary bike, and thinking about having to go to work at the library that afternoon. We emailed back and forth a bit and, knowing what a whore I am, he turned the conversation to visiting a local adult theater, suggested that we go and look around. I had time before work as did he so we decided to go that morning.
As I rushed to shower and get ready for my work as a librarian in a public library where I would be headed immediately after our visit to the theater, I wondered, “What does one wear to an adult theater?” I didn’t have anyone to ask but I knew he always wanted me accessible. I opted for a cheap dark blue and white striped dress I had altered in such a way that my large tits could be pulled out for abuse without the fabric getting stretched and ruining it. I liked it because it was conservative enough that I could wear it to work without raising eyebrows and was slut-functional. In fact, the dress always got me compliments – if they only knew it was one of my tramp dresses!
I paired the flimsy dress with conservative Mary Janes and a crisp white cardigan, the requisite attire for my chosen profession. Underneath I chose a stretchy bra that would pull out of the way if he wanted to have my big boobs exposed and on display, but would still provide some support later in the day. Always one to plan ahead, I decided to go sans panties unbeknownst to him.
We met at our usual spot and he drove us to the theater, a rather nondescript building near the airport that looked nothing like an actual theater. I fidgeted nervously as I followed him to the entrance not really knowing what to expect inside even though he had described it to me. Once inside, he walked to the counter and paid as I stood behind him watching. The place seemed pretty empty, not surprising – what kind of pervs would be at an adult theater in the morning midweek? Oh, yeah. That would be us.
The plan was to look around, nothing more. I’m not really sure what his motivation was for inviting me, but it wasn’t to play during that visit. Maybe it was to see my reaction or maybe it was to see how big a whore I was, if I would really go. To this day, I don’t know the answer and never thought to ask the question until now, but, honestly, I didn’t care why. I was open to the experience and wanted to go, not really knowing what I was getting myself into.
He had been there before so was familiar with that layout. True to his word, he began by showing me around. First into a smaller room with a video playing on a large screen tv then down a short hallway into a bigger open room with a much larger screen, porn – larger than life, larger than I had ever seen it before, overwhelming my thoughts as I adjusted to the darkness. We stood for a moment before he had me unbutton the top of my dress and pull my tits out, large, white breasts with huge erect nipples on display. A couple of men gathered around us, men I hadn’t noticed before; where had they come from?
“See them look at your tits? Look at that one rubbing his cock,” he said to me before parading me like a prize heifer to the next room.
I have never been one to walk around naked, nor have I ever been proud of my plus-size figure. I wanted to hunch my shoulders and cross my arms. I felt a strange mix of humiliation, embarrassment, arousal, and empowerment. I felt like I should be ashamed of myself, but I wanted to be there and to be seen in a sexual way, the way those men were looking at me, to be looked at in a way my husband hadn’t looked at me in at least a decade. I wanted to be surrounded by men slowly stroking their hard dicks, unabashedly horny and openly leering at me.
We wandered into the next room, passing through it slowly, boobs shifting side to side outside of my dress as I walked behind him, before moving onto the glory hole room.
Room is an overstatement, more like a closet outfitted with a couple stalls, nearly pitch black except for a small colored light in one corner, perhaps not the best option for someone known to suffer panic attacks in claustrophobic situations. The room, so dark, so confining, I focused on breathing, then we went into a stall…even more confining, the stuff of nightmares.
Just breathe.
I wasn’t going to let a little claustrophobia and potential panic attack stop me. I wanted whatever was going to happen.
In the stall, so close to him, his fit body, his stern demeanor, always in control. Tits still exposed. Smack! The surprise slap jolted by breasts and the sound echoed in my ears, the sting radiated across my chest. Yes, thank you. Cunt juice oozed between my thighs. I was consumed by lust and wanted nothing more than to be his plaything, to be used. Eyes peeked at us from between the cracks in the door and the stall frame, watching as he hurt me in the most delicious ways, twisting my nipples, pulling, pinching, sucking, making me writhe.
Someone knocking on the door, confusion.
He was in control and I was not there to think.
Just breathe.
Insatiable desire.
He moved behind me, bent me forward and pulled up my dress, only then learning that the whore wore no panties for the tour.