We enjoyed a nice, albeit late dinner and a bottle of wine. After watching only two sitcoms, Donna announced she was tired and was going to bed. She gave me my second cheek peck of the day and headed back to the bedroom. Over the last decade, I had learned this early-to-bed routine was a signal that any intimacy was off the table.

I caught up on the local news, then headed back. I brushed my teeth and stripped naked, before crawling into the sack. Donna had bought me over a dozen pairs of pajamas, but their confinement simply bugged me. Maybe it was still the wine buzz, but I moved across the midline and spooned against Donna’s bubble butt. Contrary to my wildest expectations, she nestled backward, grinding my cock against the thin lacy fabric guarding her crack. I lifted her long auburn hair and kissed her neck, making her purr like a satisfied cat.

I slid my hand down to the elastic band of her panties and pulled them down below her cheeks. Lifting her thigh allowed my now rock-hard cock to slip above her panties and into that heavenly warm spot just south of the border.

I dry-humped her slowly, back and forth until I could feel the wetness of her aroused labia on the top of my shaft. I pulled out, and my balls momentarily caught on her panty top. I moved downward, kissing her shoulders, then her left breast, and then her waist. As I reached her buttocks, she tensed; signaling there was no way she was allowing me to rim her sweet ass, let alone eat her tiny pussy.

Donna pulled away, but did roll supine; pulling her panties off in the process. Again, I would have loved to eat her tiny pink snatch, but oral sex was simply not on her menu (a topic for another chapter, perhaps). I rolled on top of her, licked my index and long fingers, and lubricated my mushroom. I rubbed my glistening cock head slowly from her hardening clit down to her taint and back, then slowly entered her. To her credit, she did rock her pelvis upward to engulf my dick like a warm taco, then wrapped her legs around my waist. We started slowly, but within minutes she picked up the pace, turning her head to the side and biting her lower lip. Experience had taught me this was her signal of impending orgasm.

I ground my pubis against her clit and growled, “Cum baby, cum.”

She almost immediately tensed, held her breath, and violently knotted up the sheet with both fists. She deeply exhaled, as I shot my load.

The truth is: despite the lack of oral sex or any creative positions or foreplay, Donna is a pretty good lay. The problem is that she for whatever reason seems to have little interest in sex for weeks or now months at a time. I’m not blaming her (well, maybe), but I need a release frequently; hence, my visits to the adult bookstore arcade.

Three days later it was Friday, I’d finished a stressful installation and I was headed home. I promise. The only thing on my mind was kicking off my steel-toed boots and grabbing a beer. But, there it was as I drove by - a trashy-looking one-story building, red neon sign proclaiming “ADULTS” and a half dozen cars in the lot. Don’t laugh, but it was like my F150 had a mind of its own. I slowed, did a U-turn, and was parked by the back door within seconds.

I exchanged a five for tokens and headed back to the arcade. Getting beyond the darkness, I was greeted by that aroma of bleach, sweat, cherry room freshener, cigarettes, and man juice. All three front hetero rooms were in use, lights illuminated above the doors. As I started toward the back, a door opened and a college-aged guy quickly exited, looking down at the floor. I assume he didn’t want to be recognized. As it turned out, his video was still playing: a kind of lame encounter between a housewife and Mr. Fixit. I switched the video to a classic portrayal of the German frau tourist getting hammered by the cabana boy’s BBC.

The time ran out after about five minutes: sooner than I had hoped, but certainly enough time for me to whip out my rod and get hard. I was getting horny and time was ticking before dinner, so I exited the front booth and walked around the corner. It was pitch black, so I didn’t even bother putting Mr. Johnson back in the barn. Two booths were in use, lights illuminated and doors locked. The farthest booth seemed to be empty: no light, door ajar, and no obvious video play.

As I opened the door, I was surprised (actually pleasantly surprised) to find a well-dressed, thirty-something clean-cut gentleman sitting on the plastic chair. I hesitated, but he smiled and motioned me in. After stepping in, I did the courteous thing and fed the video slot. I selected a film with a police officer feeding his thick veiny meat through the bars to a hungry inmate.

As I rotated back toward my booth mate, my cock was at the same level as his open mouth. Without further ado, he leaned forward and gently kissed the now purple head. Using no hands, he slowly kissed, then licked up and down the shaft; all the while looking up into my eyes. I said nothing. I did not touch his head. I did not pump or fuck his face. In fact, he never even sucked my cock, nor did either of us jack it. Instead, as he licked around the base of the mushroom, I abruptly ejaculated; covering his face with jizz.

Before I could apologize, he smiled and simply stated, “I guess you needed that.”