Trifextra: Week Ninety-Four--TrifeXXXtra "Bookstore Whore" (Graphic)

Ha-ha! I have been focusing my attention elsewhere, lately and haven't posted here, since way back, during week 86. There's always something, but I missed you guys. Boy was I surprised to see the challenge this weekend. Surprised is far less a word than I mean, but for lack of a better, it will work.

This morning I thought, 'well, maybe I'll go check out Trifecrtawritingchallenge.com and see what's been going on over there...maybe write a mini-science-related ramble, or something'. Nope, this weekend challenge was not going to go there at all. This challenge has proved to be different. Although I did visualize robotic love-making and telescopic penis', it didn't materialize.

I've already been working on another project and had a piece suited for this weekends XXX just about completed. I changed it around a hair and it hasn't found it's way into my project yet, but here it is, none-the-less.

I feel obliged to remind the reader this IS XXX. It is graphic, descriptive and yes, this sort of grossness happens, every day of every week in a major city somewhere.


Bookstore Whore

Darkness flooded my eyes, which were, only moments ago, bright with the sun’s light. A five-dollar bill assured my satisfaction. The clear plastic-stripped curtains beckoned my entrance. It is what I desired and where I would come to find love, many, many times afterwards. For now, it was shiny and new.

A maze of small rooms, each with a door, offered a possible encounter. Several guys walked the maze in the shadows. Some of them stood in front of unoccupied rooms, waiting for a taker. Like a carnie calls out a customer in the crowd, they waited; silently calling.

It was I who was taken, I wanted to win the prize. I heard and went. 

Darkness was lighted by the gay porno’s glow, playing on the small television screen on the back wall of the cubicle. It was enough light to barely see. Each of the side walls had large grapefruit-sized holes, cut into the perfect place as to receive a willing participant’s horniness. Black smears of who-know-what’s coated the circumference of the hole. The floor was sticky with bodily fluids, as I knelt to look into the hole.

Uncomfortable swelling filled my jeans with anticipation. It wasn't a clean place and my shoe stuck to the floor. Second thoughts lost out; the original prevailed. Into the hole I peered. A guy. He saw me looking! I quickly moved out of his view. 

Hormones reigned King and again I peeked through the hole. He was rubbing himself, he knew I could see. My hardness pulsated.  He slowly, methodically and sexily unzipped his jeans, teasing me. He pulled it out, halfway hard and wiggled it; up and down, he jiggled it in front of my face. My hands became wet with sweat and my heart raced. How badly I wanted him to put it through the hole. Terribly, I wanted to gorge.

Finally, and without warning, it appeared. Veiny and meaty, it was there, in front of me, garnishing my attention. I took it, gently into my hand, licked it with my tongue and wrapped my lips around it. After only moments, the guy pulled himself from me and put his grimy and unkempt fingers through the hole. He moved his finger to and fro in motion for me to come into his room. Personal maintenance forgiven, I came.

I walked into his room and he immediately grabbed my face and pulled it to his own. He kissed me rough and grabbed a handful of my hair.

“I wanna fuck you, so bad, man,” he told me.

I fell to the floor, again taking him into my mouth. He jimmied his pants from his waist and they fell to the floor. He pulled me from my armpits up to his face and kissed me deep, fishing his tongue to catch his catch. His scruffy face left my smooth one red and angry. I didn’t care. I wanted it and so did he.

With my pants now a pile of cloth on the nasty floor, he bent me over. He spat into his hand and as a spatula to frosting, he smeared the saliva onto my quivering and begging boy hole. Not at all your average cake walk. 

I felt gross afterwards; ashamed. There’s a first time for everything, this was mine.

 

I've moved on since, now I live with the consequence. And the memory.