My heart, I felt it pounding hard and fast through my entire body. Every nerve fiber in my being was overcome with the sensation. It was beating out of my chest; I even had to glance down to see if the pounding of my nerve-wracked heart could be seen. Despite more wine than any woman should drink, plus some herbal enhancements to put me in the mood, scared, nervous, and excited described the mood more accurately. I had already chickened out once, tonight I’d go through with it.

I dressed for the occasion: warm, calf-high boots, and a cozy, flannel, wrap-around, maxi-dress that showed off my figure. The dress closed with hidden buttons and tied around the front; I had all the buttons undone and wore it robe-like. I was nude beneath it, only some musk between my nude flesh and white and black flannel. My flaming red hair was done up so wildly and high that I could have easily graced a 1980s rock video, my makeup plastered on thick, obvious, and stark. I eschewed my normally slut-adjacent mien and went full-on whore.

I felt like a slut, definitely looked the part, and my boyfriend knew something was up but knew better than to ask. He also sensed my nervousness and distracted me from whatever unknown-to-him event I had in mind. He gets me. If things went right, he wouldn’t be the only one getting me. Scared, nervous, and excited began to evolve into horny excitement. I was about to test my boundaries and do something dirty, slutty, filthy, degrading, and, somehow, incredibly hot.

The entire thing began with a facial the past weekend. No, I didn’t go to the salon and get doted over by handsome, muscular men or women with soothing, healing ointments. We had had a foursome that culminated with my friend, getting pounded into oblivion by my boyfriend’s massive, thick cock, begging for him to cum on her face so my other friend and I could lick it off her. I decided that not only was I going to get facialized by him, something I’m not normally into, but I was going to up the ante and cater to his most sordid, porn-fueled fantasies.

Rather than facing the truth in the mirror, pointing the finger at my friend for "making me do this" seemed easier, one of those justifying fibs we tell ourselves. The actual truth is I wanted to do this. I have a friend that refuses to do such things; she says that it is far too degrading. I understood and agreed. To be honest, I planned it out because I wanted to try it for myself. My heart and mind were racing, but my pussy betrayed the truth. I was so horny over the idea that even masturbating ten times didn’t quench the fires.

Even when we pulled into the parking lot, my boyfriend hadn’t figured it out. “Doing some new toy shopping, are we?” he asked.

I smiled, feeling the demons of naughtiness possess me. He had no idea. “You’ll see.”

Jumping out of the SUV before it had even come to a full stop, grabbing his manly hands and pulling him into the adults-only store, I felt the mixture of green herbs and alcohol attack my inhibitions, conquering them, lifting my mood. Our destination was an adult store, a big one. I like them big. This wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill adult emporium; this one features an “adult arcade.” I had even done the research, as my google-fu is strong, and picked a place that was known to be clean, safe, and featured a public viewing room with private video booths. This place was well-known to have glory holes in the viewing booths.

Entering the establishment, I was relieved to see that it was, indeed, well-maintained, clean, and had just the perfect amount of mood lighting. No stark fluorescent light strips, only tasteful, slightly dim lighting that felt warm and inviting. A few nondescript men, some in business suits, some in blue-collar clothes, were idly shopping, looking at the sex toys, lingerie, and videos. A very cute, sexy-looking, plump, goth woman staffed the checkout counter. While thick in body, she had a smoky, sexual look about her. Just looking at her made my nipples harden. Her shiny black hair, Bela Lugosi makeup, and tattoos contrasted with my shining red hair, naturally pale and freckled skin, and soft femininity.

The men glanced our way as we entered; my blushing, laughing face and obvious enthusiasm were contagious. I opened my coat, proud that my slut-makeup and hard nipples made me look like I was cruising for action. Making sure that my dress billowed open with each step, I exaggerated my walk to show off my legs as I pulled random, alluring, wispy bits of fuck-clothes off the racks and held them up.

“Which one of these would make you want to fuck me more?” I asked a handsome man with a red power tie and perfectly styled hair.

“Um, either... both... that one,” he blubbered out.

Pulling off my coat with a proclamation of how hot it was in there, I bent over the dirty movie bin, sticking my ass way out, while I pondered Pile Driving Miss Daisy, opting instead to read the back of Whores of the Rings.

“See if you can find a dildo bigger than that monster cock of yours,” I all but yelled to Glade.

I shopped for a while, picking out a wonderfully slutty dress in deep emerald, Whores of the Rings, of course, and some fur-lined manacles. Striking up a conversation with the sexy attendant as I approached, I asked her about the adult arcade.

“Usually it’s just guys that go in there to whack off,” she smiled knowingly. She caught me checking out her magnificent breasts, a tattoo peeking out from her cleavage, and stuck them out for my pleasure.

“What about your private viewing booths?” My innocent tone was belied by me licking my lips in anticipation.

“Oh yeah, we have four of them back there. Usually, the guys get their freak on with each other.”

“What if I felt like getting my freak on back there?”

“Be my guest,” she said. “If you need help, just scream and I’ll mace them for you.”

I paid the admission price, asked her to stow my coat and purchases, grabbed my boyfriend, and dragged him into the adult arcade. When I think of an arcade, I envision a video-game arcade; no such luck. Very dim lighting, on the dark side of the spectrum, revealed a few meager rows of theater-style seats facing a large projection screen. One lone man sat in the middle row, his hand busy on his cock. His head turned, seeing us, quickly hiding his fleshy lance from view.

I smiled at him as hungrily as I could and chose a seat near the end of the same row; my boyfriend took the end seat to the left of me. The screen showed some bleached blond woman, with both fake tits and tan, getting pounded by a guy with a decent-sized cock, doggy style, while she gulped and slurped on another thick cock. She was sexy in a brazenly slutty kind of way, and the two men had decent bodies and at least some muscle.

Under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn’t have been interested. But being in a sleazy, albeit clean, porn mini-theater made it hot. My attention split three ways, my smiling boyfriend with his arm around me, the screen, and the decent-enough-looking man a few seats to my right; my eyes became accustomed to the dimness, and I relaxed somewhat. While the movie helped, mainly the moaning, swearing bimbo getting fucked like a whore by two men, the atmosphere put my senses and libido into overdrive.

The place smelled of sanitizer, air freshener, and man-juice. The young man on my right kept looking at the screen, then at me. No longer caring about being coy, I turned to face him, my torso twisting, smiling at him, licking my lips. He turned away, bashful, finally getting the idea when I didn’t avert my eyes.

Propping my leg over the arm of the seat, my skirt fell away, revealing my nude pussy to his view. He eyed me up hungrily, stuck in his seat, too petrified to move. My hands stroked up and down my exposed thigh, played in my wetness; long strands of my fluids dripping from my fingers as I brought them to my lips and sucked the nectar off my fingers.

“Take it out,” I said to him, almost in a sexual trance.

He blanched, looked at my boyfriend, who was opening the top of my dress to expose my tits, then unzipped his fly once more. His cock was both beautiful and average, hard, with some precum leaking from the tip.

“Stroke it,” I urged. “Cum for me.”

The movie was forgotten; him staring at me, eyes roaming from my dripping cunt to my hard nipples and back. I began fingering myself, the sloshing sounds of my wet tunnel a thousand times more erotic than the movie on the screen. I moaned, fucked myself with my hand, my hips bucking against the arm of the seat.

Finally finding some backbone, he stood and closed the distance between us. He stopped, standing over me, hand pumping his length in a blur. His breath came in heaves; his hips lunged towards me. With his mouth agape, his chest heaving, his free hand reached out towards my erect, exposed nipples.

“No touching, but come for me.” My fingers were flying over my clit, my other hand had three fingers buried deep inside. My boyfriend’s fingers pulled and rubbed my nipples, first softly, then hard, just perfectly.

“I’m coming,” he moaned as he began spurting. The first stream splashed on the vacant seat beside me, hitting the cushions with a splutter. The second shot hit me in the thigh, burning hot, sticky, and runny. Stroking himself furiously, he bucked and moaned, never once taking his eyes off me.

When it was over, he pulled his pants back up, running out of the arcade.

“Look,” I said to Glade in mock despair. “His cum is all over me. I’m such a dirty whore.”

I traced the wetness with my finger, watching it run down my thigh. Some of it even got on my dress. Feeling my boyfriend’s massive hard-on assured me he was enjoying me being a public slut. Leaving the dress open, settling back into the seat, I rubbed his bulge and tried to enjoy the movie. Now a redhead woman, covered in tattoos, was berating and whipping an obviously turned-on blond.

“Reminds me of you and Sylva,” he chuckled to me.

He was right in some ways. I have a friend that is quite submissive towards me and she revels in me ordering her around. Despite my surroundings, I was overcome with warm, sensual feelings of delight. Having a boyfriend that celebrates my carnal impulses is fantastically overwhelming.

“I love you,” I said to him. The irony of saying that, in a porn theater, my tits and creamy cunt on display, another man’s cum running down my thigh, was not lost on either of us.

Before he could respond, two men, dressed nicely but casually, entered the theater. They looked around quickly, immediately taking up positions near me. I said, “hello,” to them, both of them too shy to respond. They drooled over my nude body for a few minutes, me gently stroking myself to the movie.

“Enough of this,” I said to my boyfriend. “Let’s go check out the private booths.” Not waiting for his response, I stood and sidled out of the row, making sure to give both strange men a nice jiggle show. Picking one of the center booths, waiting until Glade caught up, I pulled him inside.

The booth was small, about the square footage of a tiny broom closet. There was a viewing screen on the wall opposite the door with a bill-feeding slot and several buttons for choosing which video to view. Clean vinyl half-benches, smelling of sanitizing chemicals, were mounted on both of the black walls on either side. A roll of paper towels hung from a dowel rod above a tiny, empty wastebasket.

What surprised me, despite knowing they’d be there, were the holes on either wall. Just about at mouth level, if one were to kneel on the foam-rubber pads on the floor beneath the holes, right in the middle of the vacant space between the corner and the half-bench, a round hole, padded around the rim, roughly eight inches in diameter could be plainly seen.

My trepidation faded as I slid the latch shut, effectively locking us inside the tiny booth. I was now safe from any unwanted advances, although the men were surprisingly gentlemanly, thus far. Sliding the dress off my overheated body, grabbing one of the handy paper towels to wipe my liquid love off my thighs, leaving the stranger’s cum intact, I embraced my lover’s body, my hands snaking around to his firm ass, solely to grab his wallet.

Feeding the machine, I navigated the menu until I found a group-female masturbation movie. A collection of sexy women, all shapes and sizes, were toying each other, fingering themselves, moaning and talking filth, giving each other and themselves orgasms. It worked for me.

Paper towels now covering the bench, I sat, watched, and fingered myself to the scene before me. My own hands emulated their actions, parting my soaked velvety folds, plunging my fingers inside myself, tugging and pulling on my hard clit. At first, I tried to be quiet, lest the men a few yards away hear me through the thin door. All pretenses of modesty soon left me as my already boiling passions began to erupt into a volcano of lust.

“I’m so fucking horny,” I yelled. “I’m going to cum; watch me cum. Please let me suck your cock. Fuck my mouth, please.”

Impaling myself on my fingers, orgasm near, my furious masturbation ground to a halt as a hard cock poked though the hole in the wall. Lust still simmering, threatening to boil over, I eyed the flesh-serpent, feeling slutty and hungry. My boyfriend eyed my nude body, quivering in lust, obviously enslaved by my passions. The strange cock could be simply ignored, watched, or used to sate my burning lust.

Glancing at my shrugging boyfriend, knowing that he’d be perfectly fine with whatever I did, I stared at the anonymous cock. I felt the shame and degradation well up inside me. It didn’t seem like a man, complete with a personality for me to like or revile; it was just a random fuck-muscle, a pleasure-appendage, no longer part of a human.

Maybe slightly longer than six inches in length, circumcised, slightly thick, bobbing up and down in arousal, I didn’t feel threatened or scared, mostly amused at the thought that anyone would be horny enough to stick their cock through a hole, never knowing who might be on the other side or what they might do. What if I were a serial killer or something? I could be there, waiting in ambush with a knife or something.

Laughing at my thoughts, I grabbed even more paper towels and lined the padding on the floor. The place was clean, but it was, likewise, seedy enough that paper towels seemed to be a good idea.

“What a pretty cock,” I said to the wall. Turning to my boyfriend, I asked, “Should I?”

He shrugged and smiled. “As we agreed, anything you want, whenever. No pressure, no judgment.” So much for him saying whether he wanted me to continue.

I stared at it, noting the helmet-shaped head, the moisture seeping out.

Now or never, I thought to myself. Whatever mental barriers I had came suddenly crashing down. I realized I was kneeling in a porn booth, nude, covered in a stranger’s cum, with a strange, disembodied cock mere inches from my face.

Delicately reaching out, feeling the hot flesh in my hand, I lightly ran my fingernails over the length. A moan escaped the man attached to the phallus. Abandoning any sense of self-respect I began stroking it, tugging on it, my free hand alternating between fingering my dripping snatch and caressing his balls as I stroked.

The filthy situation consumed me, brought me closer and closer to orgasm. As if possessed, my brain no longer thinking, my body only reacting, I opened my mouth and wrapped my lips around the head. Louder, more intense moans answered my oral activity.

Plunging my mouth over the girth, pressing my lips against the black plywood wall, I felt it throb and quiver in my mouth. Pulling back, fondling his balls to the point of physical abuse, I sank my lips down the length once, twice, three more times.

He began knocking on the wall. I didn’t stop.

“That means he’s about to cum,” Glade informed me.

Pulling my lips, the breaking of the vacuum making a popping sound, my saliva running down my chin, I stroked him hard and fast, enveloping his cock with both hands. He shot his cum right at me, splattering my tits, painting my neck, warming my flesh.

I wanted... needed more. I was on the verge of losing control. The degrading dirtiness of it all had me in a frenzy. As soon as he stopped cumming, he made to pull back, sighing out his thanks. I refused to relinquish my new toy. I plunged my mouth over his deflating shaft and swirled my tongue up and down the length, greedily licking up every drop of his semen.

Finally, I let him go, feeling let down that it was over.

“You have an audience,” my boyfriend chuckled, gesturing to the hole in the other wall.

Smiling with lust, I turned to see a face, a handsome and rugged face, one of the men from the theater area, watching me. Lost in a raunchy trance, I took the two steps across the tiny booth and thrust my pussy up against the hole.

“Make me cum,” I begged the random stranger.

Fingers thrust into my wetness, none too gently. It was exactly what I wanted. If I was going to go through the effort of acting like a trashy slut, I fully expected to be treated as one. He wasted no time, inserting two rough fingers into my cunt. My wetness poured out of me, allowing him to easily fuck me with his hand.

Lost in slutty abandon, I thrust my hips into his hand so hard that the wall vibrated. He withdrew quickly, just as pleasure began to well up inside me. I stopped, knelt, and looked. He was about a foot away from the hole, licking his fingers.

“You taste sweet,” he said through the hole.

“Then lick me, you fucker; lick me; please lick me.” He smiled as I repositioned myself, giving his tongue access. Up and down, swirling over my clit, then back down, over and over, he licked me.

My boyfriend wrapped his arms around me from behind, his strength supporting me, his hands cupping and squeezing my breasts. Turning my head, I pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss. As our lips and tongues danced, snake-like, on and in each other’s mouths, I moaned out as his fingers penetrated my already-lubed ass, sending me into orgasm.

My unknown oral slave continued licking me up, lapping up my cream as it spewed out of my drenched slit. Glade held me upright, me breaking the kiss to scream out in guttural, primitive grunts and groans.

“Give me your cock,” I demanded as soon as my legs stopped shaking. Dropping to my knees with a thud, my hand reaching through the hole, I grabbed at the stranger’s crotch and pulled it towards me.

Without hesitation, I admired his cock. It was at least seven inches long, thick enough to hit all the right places, and curved sharply upwards. I didn’t bother to stroke it; I just grabbed it and sunk my slutty mouth over it.

Not to sound like I’m bragging, but my boyfriend’s cock is huge. It is longer than any cock I’ve ever seen and so thick that it has been known to scare off some women. It took me forever to be able to get it into my mouth and I have a big mouth; just ask anyone that’s ever spoken with me. By comparison, this one was impressive, but not so gargantuan that I couldn’t take it all the way down my throat.

This time, there was no teasing; my tongue did not delicately caress his shaft. My fingers did not gingerly touch it. Lust had consumed me. Plunging my mouth all the way down his length with such force that my forehead thumped against the wall, my lips jack-hammered up and down, desperate for more cum.

Slowing down just enough to tug at my boyfriend’s zipper, giving him the hint that I was crazed for cock, I began to assault the cock in my mouth with renewed earnest, seeing Glade free his pants-monster and stroke it to the sight of me on my knees, covered in cum, sucking off the stranger through the wall.

Within minutes, I was masturbating to the debauchery I had created for myself. Fingering my clit, moaning into the cock now meeting my oral thrusts, my boyfriend stroking himself to me was just too much. I began to cum, screaming with my full mouth, hips buckling in the throes of orgasm. My unseen lover pulled back, his hand stroking his fuck-stick as wave after wave of slutty pleasure ripped through my body.

Forgetting to aim his cum, he shot his load into my hair, on my chin, and over my breasts. As I came down, I knelt there, too weak from pleasure to stand, my fingers playing in his jizz, rubbing it into my nipples and cleavage.

He thanked me for his orgasm and abruptly left; the door making closing sounds as he exited.

Covered in cum, feeling like the dirtiest whore on the planet, yet ashamed of myself for loving it, I looked at my boyfriend. “Was it as good as your porn movies?”

“That was the hottest thing I ever saw,” he said to me, gently helping me to my feet. “I bow, delighted, impressed, and in awe of how wild you are, before your superior debauchery. I love it. It is an honor that you allowed me to share in your naughty adventures.” Yes, he actually talks like that.

“Take me home right now and fuck me like a dirty, skanky whore.”

“As you wish,” he smiled, helping me into my dress. I didn’t bother to tie it closed. I proudly marched out of the booth, through the arcade, now playing a video of some slutty, lucky woman getting pounded by at least a dozen men at once. Entering the main store, empty except for the hot, raven-haired, goth woman, I noted how slovenly I looked. Hair tangled and matted with sperm, makeup smeared and half-erased with spit and semen, tits glistening from being painted in jizz... I must have looked like an X-rated horror movie.

She didn’t say anything to me, but smiled broadly, obviously delighted at the slutty mess that was me. She handed me my coat and bags and winked.

I grabbed Glade and pushed him towards the door, putting on my coat.

“Come again, soon,” she smiled at me.

I fully intended to.