Loading...The first thing that you should know about me is that my name isn’t really Betty. Even if you were one of the men that I’d… entertained on Thursday night, you probably couldn’t pick me out of a police lineup. That’s because I dress and act completely different during the day. I keep my hair pulled back and don’t wear a lot of makeup and wear neat but plain clothing, like the successful businesswoman that I am.
I wouldn’t know you, either, and we might walk past each other on Friday morning in broad daylight without a clue. And that’s just the way that I like it.
My career as Thursday Night Betty started on a Wednesday night. Some friends and I went out for drinks after work, and even though we only had a couple of martinis apiece, we still got a little silly and started talking about our sex lives. They kept talking about their bedroom romps with “bad boys”, and I would chime in once in a while with a sketchy, made-up story, but in fact I hadn’t gotten fucked in two years. A couple of them started talking about how men let the little head think for the big head, and one insisted that most straight men would let a gay man suck them off if they were desperate. I’d heard about certain restrooms in the more distant area of public parks that were frequented by gay men, but this woman said that any adult video store had booths in the back that were supposedly for previewing videos, but were really there for men to have sex in. The rest of us feigned disbelief, and before I knew it we were in her car, driving to an adult store that was a few miles from our town, near the intersection of two interstates. If we’d gone to the adult store in our town, the one that seemed to do most of its business in flavored condoms and lube and gag gifts for bachelor and bachelorette parties, then I probably wouldn’t have this story to tell.
The video store by the interstates was surprisingly clean, but definitely older than the one in our town. It had a few racks of dildoes and vibrators and the like, but there was something about them that suggested that they had been in stock for a while and that they really weren’t the reason that people came there. I noticed a rack of classic Playboy magazines next to the newer ones, and wandered over to take a look at them. My friends came over, giggling, to ask if I was checking out the “hot babes”, and I pointed out to them how the Playmates in the 70s and the 80s were more natural-looking, with non-surgically-modified breasts and all of their pubic hair, compared to the stick-thin, bottle-blonde centerfolds of today with their fake tits. The woman who had suggested this field trip in the first place noticed the door to the video preview booths, and asked the man behind the counter, who appeared to be in his early fifties and had the trim look of an ex-Marine, whether we would have to buy tokens first, and the man shrugged and said, “Only if you’re going to watch the movies.” In a group, we walked into the back of the store.
After the brightness of the front of the store, we were nearly blind as we fumbled our way around the booths. Although there had been other cars in the parking lot, the booths seemed abandoned, but soon we noticed that some of the booths had red “IN USE” signs lit up over the door. We whispered to each other, speculating as to whether the men inside were masturbating or having sex with other men. I looked around and noticed one booth that was between two others. It seemed to be relatively narrow, and I poked my head in the open door. There was a seat in the back, and a slot for tokens in the wall next to it. Peering around, I noticed that the TV screen was above the door, so that you would sit on the seat and face the door to watch videos. Then I noticed two holes, one in each side wall, opposite each other, about waist height. They were lined with some sort of smooth plastic and each was fairly large, at least ten inches in diameter. I could see the faint outlines of the seats in the booths on either side, but neither was occupied.
My friend grabbed my arm. “Come on, let’s go,” she hissed. “This place is starting to give me the creeps.”
We walked out, but the woman who had suggested the trip stopped by the clerk first. “So…”, she said casually, “what sort of clientele comes here? Gay or straight?”
The clerk didn’t seem surprised by the question. “Oh, some of each,” he said. “More couples than you might think. Thursday night is ladies’ night.”
We looked at each other, then burst out laughing. The clerk arched his eyebrow and went back to his newspaper. We beat a hasty retreat, occasionally laughing again when one of us said “ladies’ night.” We laughed all the way back to town, although I wasn’t laughing as hard as the others. I kept thinking about those two holes in the opposite walls of the narrow booth. It wasn’t until I was home and undressing for bed that I realized why the walls of the booth were so close together.
I’m in the habit of masturbating before I go to sleep; it helps me relax and it’s just a nice way of ending the day. That night, though, even though I masturbated to orgasm twice, it took me forever to get to sleep. I thought that the images in my mind were sick and degrading to women, but I still couldn’t quite let go of them. I finally went to sleep, but I was tired and cranky the next day, and after I’d spent my lunch taking a short nap in my office, I started thinking about the booth again. I spent my afternoon coffee break in the office bathroom with the lock on the door, masturbating again, and when I went home I had yet another wank before I took a rare early evening nap. It was getting dark when I woke up, and I lay in bed for a while, thinking about what I was considering doing. It was a crazy idea–I could get arrested or catch some disease or even get hurt–but I couldn’t resist the thrill I felt each time I pictured myself in the booth. I finally talked myself into it by telling myself that I’d have the pepper spray in my purse, and that I could run out of there if I chickened out.
I got dressed and drove to the video store, heart pounding the entire way. My car was a dark late-model sedan without flashy emblems or bumper stickers, but I still parked in back, out of sight of the access road. I looked at myself in the mirror before I got out of the car. I’d let my hair down for once, and even combed it so that it hung in front of my face. As an added disguise, I’d put on the eyeshadow, mascara, and bright red lipstick that I usually saved for very special occasions. Anyone who knew me would still be able to recognize me, but even they would have to look twice. I was wearing a tank top without a bra underneath, and even though it was a warm night, my nipples stood out like pencil erasers underneath the cloth. I wore jogging shorts with an elastic waistband over a thong, and flip-flops on my feet; I usually never wore flip-flops outside of the house, and it wasn’t until later that I realized that, subconsciously, I’d put them on because they were easy to wash off.
I walked to the front door, hanging my head down low to hide my face even further, and went inside. The clerk looked up at me as I walked up to him, and I wondered if he’d remembered me from last night. I asked him how much the tokens were.
“Five dollars’ worth minimum, but for you, they’re on the house.” He pressed a stack of brass tokens in my hand. I blushed and walked back to the booths; the narrow booth that I had obsessed over stood empty. Feeling like my heart was going to burst out of my ribcage at any moment, I walked inside and shut and latched the door.
I stood there for a long minute, the tokens growing sweaty in one clenched fist, not daring to do anything else. I’m not sure what I expected to happen; maybe a bright light would come on in the booth and my friends’ faces would appear at each hole, yelling “Surprise!”, or maybe cops were waiting in the adjacent booths for me to do something dirty, and a badge would appear through one hole and a gun through the other. Swallowing nervously, I hung my purse on the back of the door, sat down, and slipped a few tokens in the slot.
The screen immediately lit up, showing a blonde with more makeup on than I had, bouncing up and down on a muscular man’s lap as his cock plowed into her shaved cunt. Their groans were fake-sounding and obviously dubbed in. I hit the channel changer and briefly sampled the selection of videos, which included quite a lot of gay porn, women taking it up the ass, women making love to other women, shemales fucking both men and women, and a brief shot of a lactating woman squirting her milk onto a man’s face. Then I came to one that was shot from an odd angle; the camera was underneath the woman, and she had one cock thrusting into her pussy while she took the other one in her mouth. It was so close to my mental picture that I just sat there, watching, for a few seconds with my mouth open.
Out of the corner of my eyes, through the holes in the wall, I saw men entering the booths on either side of me, and heard them shut and lock their doors. They didn’t put any tokens in, though, so although they could probably see me in the light from my TV screen, I couldn’t really see them, just the faint outline of two faces peering around the edges of the holes. It was now or never.
Still sitting, I rubbed my nipples briefly through the cloth of the tank top, then pinched them. After a few seconds of that, I grasped the hem of the tank top, then slowly raised it over my head, and peeled the shirt off. I stood up and hung the shirt on the back of the door. I looked at the TV screen, caressing my breasts and flicking my ever harder nipples.
I turned around and bent over toward the seat. Again moving very slowly, I pulled down my shorts, then stepped out of them, and hung them on the back of the door. Again I faced the screen, although this time I moved my hand over my crotch, rubbing my cunt through my panties. The crotch of the thong was sopping wet. I stuck my hand down the front of the thong, at first cupping my hairy cunt, then curling my middle finger inwards and probing deep into my lubricated vagina. I looked down at myself, the knuckle of my middle finger pressing out against the damp cotton of the thong as I rhythmically finger-fucked myself, being watched by strangers. This was so far beyond the boundaries of my usual behavior that I felt like I was on an alien planet.
After fondling myself for a while, I took my hand out of my thong and again turned and faced the seat, this time slowly peeling off my thong. When I had lowered the thong to my ankles, I stayed there for a couple of seconds, bent over almost double, then stepped out of the underwear. I stayed bent over, though, and moved my legs a little wider than shoulder width apart. I put my hand between my legs and started finger-fucking myself again, curling my hand so that the men should be able to clearly see my glistening finger pushing in and out of my fuzzy cunt from behind.
This was a fairly uncomfortable position, so eventually I stood up and faced the screen again, rubbing my clit and wondering if I’d end up getting myself off without either man making a move. Maybe that would be for the best…
Suddenly, a man’s penis appeared through the hole to my right. It was flaccid and uncircumcised. It wasn’t really what I expected, but I thought that I’d check it out anyway, just for the heck of it. I faced the hole and bent over. The booth was so narrow that, as my face approached the hole on my right, I felt my ass nudge up against the hole on my left, now behind me. It felt like my cunt and asshole were neatly framed by the hole.
I took the cock in my hand; it felt like a fat, dry, short little worm. I stroked it a little, feeling the glans slide under the foreskin, and breathed on it a little. It twitched and started to grow beneath my fingers. There, that’s more like it, I thought. As I gently stroked the swelling cock, I could suddenly feel another man’s breath on my cunt. I guess that the fellow behind me was getting a good look.
The cock in my hand was almost completely hard now, and I could see the glistening tip of his glans through the opening in the foreskin. I gently peeled the foreskin back and saw how the head was smooth and moist, unlike the circumcised cocks that I’d seen and felt before. I remembered reading somewhere how the glans of an uncut cock was more sensitive, and so I licked my lips, then very gently kissed the tip of the cock, then probed the urethral slit with the tip of my tongue. Almost at the same time, I felt another tongue probe my own slit from behind. The unseen man’s tongue tip slid up and down my already-wet labia.
I curled my lips over my teeth, then slowly took the cockhead in my mouth. I wasn’t a big fan of fellatio, usually, but this was different. My thighs were quivering slightly with the excitement. I could feel the face of the man behind me press up against my cunt, with his nose probing my asshole, as he slid his tongue into me as far as he could. The man in front of me thrust his cock further into the glory hole, and I grasped the base of his cock so that I could regulate how deep into my mouth he went. I started bobbing my head up and down over his cock. I was afraid that he might have a smegma problem with the foreskin, but he was clean and his cock had a nice, if slightly strong, man-smell.
The man behind me moved his face away from my cunt, and I was slightly disappointed until I felt the mushroom head of his prick nudge between my sopping cunt lips. He was bigger around than the man that I was giving head to, and I gave out a satisfied grunt as he drove his thick cock into my pussy. I braced my hips against the rear glory hole, and he started thrusting, building up a fast, even rhythm. Soon I was moaning onto the cock of the man that I was sucking, and he showed his appreciation by speeding up his own tempo, the first few inches of his cock moving in and out of my mouth while my tongue swirled around the head and my fist jacked the part of his cock near the root that I couldn’t fit in my mouth. His thrusts got faster and faster, then his groin slammed up against the glory hole, and I could feel the pulsing in the underside of his cock as he shot his cum into my mouth. I had never liked the taste of semen, so even though I’d heard that men tasted different from one another, I was surprised to find out that I liked the taste of this man’s cum, and swallowed it all. I milked his cock a couple of times to get the last few drops, then he pulled out of my mouth. I thought that that was going to be it for him, but to my surprise he bent over toward the glory hole so that his face was near mine, and whispered, “That was real nice, thanks.” Then he kissed me!
He left the booth, and I could see another man enter almost immediately. I thought that I could see yet another man out in the corridor, and I wondered if there was a line. The new man shut the door, and I could see him drop his pants almost immediately. He had just stepped up to the glory hole when I reached through, surprising myself with my boldness, and grasped his cock, sucking it to hardness while I moaned softly due to the continued fucking from behind. My new partner fucked my face for a while, then withdrew, bent over, and whispered, “Can I fuck you in the pussy?”
I thought about it for a second, then pulled my ass away from the rear glory hole. I turned around, bent over, and grasped the large cock, still glistening with my cunt juice. I stretched my mouth wide open and took him in. I liked the taste of my own cunt on his cock, and I guess that he liked the feel of my mouth just fine, because soon he was gently rocking his hips as I gingerly accomodated his big cockhead. My new partner, instead of penetrating me right away, stroked my pussy lips and massaged my very swollen clit, and I soon had a mind-blowing orgasm. The big-cock man showed his appreciation of my impromptu hum-job by shooting his cum deep into my mouth, and he had such a big load that I couldn’t swallow it all and a little dribble ran out of my mouth. Another man came into his booth just as soon as he left, and the man behind me started fucking me, and soon I was getting it from both ends again.
I lost track of how many men I sucked and fucked. I got cut and uncut cocks, thick and thin, black, white, and brown, and even though their booths were dark I could tell that some were blondes and redheads. I had no idea how old they were or whether or not they had wedding rings on. At first, I tried to have all the men finish in my mouth, but soon I got carried away and a man shot his load in my pussy. The man that came after him didn’t seem to mind the sloppy seconds, but the man after him stuck his cock in for a few seconds, then withdrew and put a couple of fingers in me. He took them out, coated with cum, and as he stuck his prick back into my cunt, he probed my asshole with his slippery fingers. This was something new for me, and I rocked my ass back against the hole and pushed out with my ass a little so that first one finger, then two, then three were sawing in and out of my rosebud. After a few minutes of that, he pulled out of my cunt again, and then I felt the head of his cock pressing against my asshole. I pushed out again, and he popped his cockhead in. It hurt a little at first, but then I loosened up and enjoyed being buttfucked while I whacked off my clit with one hand. My asshole was so tight around his cock that I could feel the pulsing of his cum when he shot his load into my rectum. My ass was loose after that, and I took cocks into my ass as well as my cunt, getting loads in all three holes.
In the back of my mind, I was starting to wonder if I’d be there all night, although after I was done I figured out that I was in there for less than an hour and a half. It just seemed to go on and on, and I thought that maybe some men were coming back for seconds, or they were calling their friends and telling them that there was free head, pussy and ass at the video store, and to make excuses to their wives and girlfriends and sneak out of the house. Then I had one last guy grunt as he shot into my ass, then pull out, and there were no more men.
I stood up, feeling a little stunned. Cum from who knew how many men ran down my thighs, and I was glad that I wore flip-flops instead of socks and my good sneakers. I burped, and tasted semen on my own breath. My asshole spasmed, and I realized that there was a mother load of jism in my rectum that had only one way out. It suddenly occurred to me that I had nothing to clean up with before I put my clothes back on, and that not only would I have to walk out of the store with cum running down my legs, but that I would get it on my car seat. God help me if I was stopped by the cops; they’d probably just assume that I was a whore and run me in. Then someone tapped on my door and I jumped a little.
“Are you OK?”, a voice asked, and I knew that it was the clerk. My first impulse was to ask him to go away, but I knew that he knew exactly what I’d been doing all this time. I cracked the door open.
“Yeah, I guess, but I forgot to bring anything to clean up with. Do you have some paper towels that I could have?”
He gestured toward the back of the video booth area. “I can do better than that. There’s a bathroom back there that you can wash up in before you put your clothes on. Don’t worry about anyone seeing you; they’re all gone.”
I thought about it for a few moments, then decided that I might as well, and gathering up my clothes and purse I walked out of the glory hole booth. If I had felt like a slut walking in, wearing my short shorts and braless halter, I felt like the Whore of Babylon, walking across the room wearing only flip-flops and with semen running down my face, chest, and legs. But the clerk acted as if he were escorting the Queen as he motioned me into the bathroom. I was relieved to see that there was not only a drain in the bathroom floor, but also a hose attachment on the sink’s faucet. He shut the door, turned on the water and tested the temperature, then had me stand in the middle of the room. I held my hair up, no longer caring if he recognized me or not, as he gently washed me off. When he got to my cunt, he adjusted the spray to a slow pulse and directed it toward my clit, giving me a quick and powerful orgasm.
I realized that I had to piss as well as expel the semen from my ass, and told him that I had to use the toilet. He grinned and said, “You can pee wherever you want; it’ll just go down the drain anyway. And as for your ass…” He shrugged. “You don’t have to, of course, but I wouldn’t mind having my own turn.”
I gave him a slow smile as I spread my feet apart a little and let my piss run down my legs. I had never gone to the bathroom in front of a man before, and it felt as dirty as all the stuff that I’d just done. Then, I bent over the sink and spread my legs. The clerk took his already-hard cock out, got a tube of lube out of his pocket, and smeared some on his cock and on my tender asshole. He very gently penetrated my rosebud and thrust slowly into me as he reached around me and first rubbed my nipples and then my clit. I had yet another orgasm as he came in my ass, and then had a sort of mini-orgasm as I squatted on the toilet and expelled a long stream of semen out of my rectum. He finished cleaning me up, then gave me a real honest-to-gosh towel to dry off with. I got dressed and walked out to the front of the store; I felt a little awkward leaving, as if I couldn’t pretend to go back to a normal life after what I had done.
“Say”, the clerk said, “do you think you’ll be back next Thursday?”
I hesitated. I had a successful business career, which would be instantly ruined if anyone identified me. But then I thought of how much more alive I felt now, and whether I could stand to go back to my solitary life with its perfunctory masturbation. I said, “I–I think that I will.”
He nodded. “I think that you’ll be the star attraction of this store. I can cut you in on part of the token sales. And if you get tired of plain old fucking and sucking…” He gestured toward the toys on the wall. “We have plenty of things to play with afterward.”
“OK,” I said. I paused, wondering how much I wanted to reveal of myself to this man who had just cornholed me in a porn store bathroom. “I’m, uh…”
“I’ll call you Betty… and you can call me, uh, call me Barney.” He grinned, and I smiled back. During the week that followed, I occasionally had second thoughts about going back, but something about Barney’s grin–and, frankly, his skill at assfucking–brought me back. That, and the dreams that I had almost every night, of a never-ending chain of lovers, dreams that had me waking up with my cunt twitching in the aftershock of a massive orgasm and the bed soaked with my pussy juice.
I’m now a Thursday night regular. Instead of messing with all the makeup, I wear a wig and oversized tinted glasses; I don’t even take my own car, but get picked up instead by Barney’s cousin, who turned out to be the big-cocked man who was the first one to fuck me. I wear a simple dress with nothing underneath, and when it’s cold out I wear a long coat and fake-fur-lined boots, and put my flip-flops in the coat pocket. The men draw straws for the privilege of fucking and being sucked by me first; the first ones get to watch my little strip and masturbation show. Some of the men thrust twenties through the glory holes after they’re done; at first I felt slightly insulted because I thought that they assumed I was a whore, but eventually I recognized it for what it was, a spontaneous compliment. Some nights, I’ve gone home with more than $300 on top of my cut of the token sales. Plus, of course, I get a nice fuck from Barney afterward, sometimes including his cousin, and once an off-duty cop came in for the post-fucking cleanup and took all of his clothes off, including his back-up gun, and had me piss and expel my ass-cum all over him. I don’t think that I have to worry about being arrested.
I doubt that I could stop now even if I wanted. Sure, I could just walk away from it, but I already spend six nights a week being a boring spinster. The seventh night, though… I create anew the legend of Thursday Night Betty.