I escort her into the confines of the dimly lit cubicle, kissing her neck as she shuts and locks the door behind us. She turns to face me, and I smell the alcohol on her breath … but I’m the one who’s intoxicated. Intoxicated by her nervous laugh, by the glittering excitement in her eyes, by her willingness to take this step into the unknown.
She looks down at the circular hole – four inches or so in diameter – cut into the partition separating this cubicle from the next.
“That’s it, then,” she whispers, her eyes fixated.
I run the tip of my tongue along the side of her neck up to her ear, bite gently upon the soft lobe as my hands glide up over her belly to capture her breasts. I press my erection into the luscious swell of her behind, and I am rewarded with her gasp.
“Now you wait.”
She doesn’t have to wait long. Noises from the neighbouring booth announce the presence of a visitor. There isn’t enough light to see what’s going on next door, but then a man’s right hand reaches through the opening. The strong fingers are curled into a semi-fist, but it is a relaxed gesture, not an angry one. The forearm is hairy, heavily muscled, and a plain silver band glints at the base of the thumb. It belongs to a man who has clearly tasted life.
“What does he want?” she asks in the same whisper.
“To touch you.”
I smile reassuringly. “Wherever you want him to. Wherever you want.”
She looks at me for a few seconds longer, and then she slowly crouches down on the tiled floor. Her simple black dress has a wrap-around front, and I know from watching her getting ready that she is completely naked underneath. She hesitates, and then she draws one-half of her dress to the side, baring her left breast. The nipple is already taut, a darker pink than normal because of her mounting excitement. With a final glance up at me, she guides her breast into the stranger’s grasp.
I shiver with something that is part agony, part ecstasy, as he cups her soft flesh. His fingers flow over her, drawing inwards, upwards, towards the hard crown. He takes her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling gently upon it. Repeating the caress, he eases her forward until her breast is partially pressed through the glory hole.
She looks up at me, and smiles. “He’s kissing and licking my nipple. Now he’s sucking it. Oh!”
I swallow, sick and aroused all at once. Her mouth falls open and she gasps with real pleasure, and the sickness and the arousal intensify. My mind swirls. She sweeps her long hair back from the side of her face closest to me and tucks it behind her ear, so that I can scrutinise her expression more clearly. Her eyes close, her head goes back and she smiles contentedly. There is no doubt that – whatever this man is doing to her on the other side of the partition – she is enjoying it.
Her reaction is everything I had feared, everything I had hoped that it would be.
She remains there for what seems like minutes, and when she finally moves back and stands up, I see that her nipple is flushed red and glistening wetly. I can’t help but wonder what made the wetness.
She turns around and unfastens the belt that binds the two halves of her dress together. She slips the garment from her shoulders and lets it slide down her body to pool at her feet. I am staggered. Events are diverging from the timetable my fantasies fashioned. I know that I can stop things progressing further, but I also know that to do so would irrevocably damage the unwritten contract between us. There would be no repeat visits, no more journeys along this shadowy passageway of experience, of debauchery. Never again. So I will myself to remain silent.
It is less difficult a task than it ought to be.
The man is back. Now it’s his cock – average in length, thick, almost fully erect – that protrudes into our cubicle. A pale-hued condom is rolled all the way down the engorged shaft.
Her back to the dividing wall, she moves to meet him. In my fantasies, I envisaged her taking a stranger into her mouth, sometimes whilst I gripped her buttocks and licked her sodden cleft, other times whilst I fucked her with slow strokes, careful not to let my excitement get the better of me. I never dared to imagine her accepting the stranger into her cunt … wanting him in her cunt.
She presses her rear towards his condom-clad cock. I crouch without thinking. With her dress gone, I can see everything. I look down the line of her body as she strokes her clitoris playfully. His glans reaches out for her, desperate to have her dark wetness engulf him, sheath him.
Bastard, I think.
She looks me in the eye, as if daring me to say, “No!” or “Stop!” Am I being tested? Does she want me to halt things before they go any further? Time crawls through molasses as I scrutinise her face, and I realise that even if I do tell her to stop, she won’t. Not now. No more prevaricating. Ask and it shall be given you. This is going to happen, and if I find it more punishment than pleasure, so be it. For whatever a man sows, that shall he also reap. But it’s more than just that. She’s pushed herself past the constraints of the norm, and her desire is ablaze. At this point, stopping might not even be an option for her.
The stranger’s glans brushes her sex for the first time and her body quivers. Her gaze narrows fractionally.
You wanted this, her silent look reminds me.
Not this, a part of me whimpers.
Liar, the darker slice of my psyche spits back.
She eases back until her buttocks press against the smooth partition. The stranger’s cock juts between her parted thighs, a centimetre below her cunt. She reaches down and cups him from the front, pulling his shaft against her heat. She groans softly, releasing him so she can lick two fingers and transfer the wetness to the opening of her sex. She takes hold of him again, and now I can’t breathe as she guides his cockhead between her lips and into her. She gasps as he enters, her breathing rapid and shallow. She holds onto the underside of his shaft as she guides him deeper, then holds herself open as she works to get him all the way inside. Eventually, she moves her hands away, and for the first time ever I have an unobstructed view of another man embedded within the most intimate flesh she possesses.
I’ve no idea what her expression is like, because I am transfixed by the sight of the stranger’s cock insider her. I’m bewildered how we got here, seething with jealousy and betrayal, trembling with excitement.
She holds her position, allowing him to thrust. He pushes forward so far that his balls partially press through the glory hole. But the barrier between them seems to prevent him from thrusting with the vigour he surely craves. Perhaps realising this, she takes pity on her unseen lover. She begins to ease forward and then presses back along his length, enabling him to move as far forward as he can and remain stationary. I stare as she fucks the stranger, as he disappears and reappears repeatedly. She is trying to dampen her groans, but there is no mistaking the sound of her enjoyment. She is taking pleasure from a man who isn’t me. Just as I’d always told her she could. Just as I’d always feared, and hoped.
The stranger’s condom is creamy slick, glistening with her lust.
She’s moving more quickly now, and for the first time in minutes I look at her face. The booth is warm, nearly airless, and her forehead and cheeks gleam with perspiration’s first dew. Her eyes are half-closed and she is gently biting down on her bottom lip. After a moment, she realises that I am watching her, not merely the point of their coupling, and she gives me a wanton smile. Her hands reach for my face and she pulls me into a delicious kiss. Her lips are soft and warm, her tongue passionately supple. She groans into my mouth as he fucks her, as she fucks him. I cup her softly swaying breasts and let the taut nipples drag back and forth across my palms. Above the warm scent of her perfume, I can smell her arousal.
She breaks the kiss. “Stand up,” she whispers.
I do as she asks. She reaches for the waistband of my jeans, releases the thick leather belt, the button, the zip. The jeans slide down my thighs and she eases my cotton shorts down to meet them. My cock is as hard as the stranger’s, harder perhaps. She rolls my foreskin back and sees how wet with precum the glans is. Her wanton smile deepens, and then she guides me towards her mouth.
Her tongue swirls about my cockhead and then I am inside her too. Her mouth slips back and forth along my hard flesh as her cunt – beyond both my sight and my control – slips back and forth along his. We have achieved a sinful synchronicity with the stranger, a harmony beyond the most licentious of my fancies, and I both applaud and abhor its implications.
She steadies herself with a hand against my waist, and her nails claw absently at my abdomen as she is fucked harder and faster. Her mouth matches the pace of her fucking, trapping me on the same thrilling trajectory that has already captured her and her unseen lover. They drag me behind them, upwards, upwards. My flesh muffles her cries of pleasure, but I know from their crescendo that she is going to come soon.
She drags my cock from her mouth. “Come with me,” she implores, her voice driven beyond a whisper as she spits out the words before she swallows me once more. “Come with him.”
But I can’t. Our synchronicity is not quite good enough.
She quivers, pressing herself backwards so that her buttocks make the partition creak against its brackets. He responds in kind. I hear his thighs thud into the laminated chipboard as he fucks with urgency. She has afforded him all the access to her he needs. She has given herself to him completely.
Her teeth rake my flesh as she sucks me hard, as she gasps and cries about my cock, as her body quivers with her climax. And then the thudding against the partition ceases, and I hear the stranger’s groan and I know that he is orgasming inside her. I am staggered by another wave of irrational excitement blended with scolding regret. The two feelings are indivisible. They feed on each other. Ouroboros. She looks up at me, sluttish hunger in her glittering eyes, and the sight of her face – make-up smeared with perspiration and raw with lust – triggers me, carries me over the edge. She swallows me greedily, her hands gripping my hips, holding me in place as she drains me of every opalescent drop, all the time with another man still inside her.
The intensity of my pleasure wanes, as it always does. Spent as well, she stands upright and steps away from the partition; I see the stranger’s cock still hangs through the glory hole, as depleted as my own. The condom has served its purpose, though, corralling his ejaculate. After a few seconds, the cock withdraws to its own side of the divide.
Within a minute, I hear the stranger’s door unlock and open. I wonder if he – whoever he is – will loiter outside in the hope of catching a glimpse of the woman who gave herself to him. I hope not. Perhaps she wants to satisfy her curiosity too. My heart quickens at the prospect. The logistics of fantasy rarely present such consternations.
She retrieves her dress from the floor and slips it back on. After she’s fastened it, smoothed it down over her body and straightened her hair, only the smudging of her make-up and the light sheen across her face hint at what has just taken place. I’ve already tucked my cock back inside my jeans and fastened them.
“All right?” she asks me.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”
She smiles. “You can if you like. It’s not necessary, though.”
I try to fathom the cipher to her words, if there even is a hidden meaning. In the end, I give up. I unlock the cubicle door and step outside, eyes questing left and right. I see no men lingering. She follows me, head held high. We work our way through the maze of corridors and back out into the night. Car headlights and neon signs and the sounds of traffic and sirens remind us that the world has gone on happily without us, has not so much as skipped a beat in our absence.
I offer her my hand. She takes it after a few seconds.
“Are you all right?” I ask her.
“I’m fine. Better than fine. What about you?”
“I’m good.” I try to keep my expression relaxed, on the contented side of neutral.
“Are you sure?”
I stop so that I can look at her. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“And was it what you wanted?”
I hesitate, only for a fraction of a second, but it may as well have been for an hour. She tries to walk away, but I stop her easily.
“It was beyond my wildest dreams,” I tell her truthfully, and then I kiss her, letting my lips say what I seem unable to.
When I stop, she’s smiling.
We walk on, headed for the car. There’s a bar around the corner from where we parked, and I figure we’ll get a drink there before we set off for home. She probably needs one. I know that I do.
Every few seconds, I sense her inquisitive gaze on the side of my face. I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead, but all I can see is her head going back and her contented smile as he suckled on her breast, her clutching his cock against her cunt and then feeding it inside herself. A garbage truck rumbles by, but what I hear is her gasp as he sucked and licked her nipple taut, her barely muffled cries of pleasure as he made her come.
My hand tightens about hers for a moment, and then I force it to relax again.
The recollections are excruciating now, almost too painful to consider, let alone confront. That doesn’t stop me, though. I’ll keep rummaging through them in my mind, even though it’s rubbing salt in the wounds … the same way you pick at a scabbed injury, or work at a loose tooth with your tongue.
My consolation is the knowledge that soon the memories won’t be painful. Quite the opposite. Soon they’ll make my pulse race and my cock hard. Soon they’ll make me yearn to do this – or perhaps something even more extravagant – all over again.