What I Did in a Porn Theater After Class

My name is Abril, and that afternoon I hadn’t left home looking for sex. I left with my head empty after a long day at the institute where I was studying for a postgraduate degree, the heat clinging to my skin and the urge to walk for a while before returning to my apartment. I was dressed in a way that made me feel like myself: tight pants, a soft blouse, my hair carefully arranged, and that ambiguous air that had more than once provoked double takes.

I had always liked provoking people a little, even if it was only with the way I walked. Not because I needed approval, but because it turned me on to know that someone could look at me and hesitate. Man or woman. Girl or boy. Delicate on the outside, hot on the inside.

That afternoon I passed through an old arcade connecting two downtown streets. Almost all the businesses were closing. Metal shutters came down with a crash, and the echo made the passage seem even emptier than it already was. Then I saw it.

A battered pink-and-violet neon sign, stubbornly flickering above a dark entrance: “Cinema.” I approached out of simple curiosity, or that’s what I told myself at first. But when I read the marquee and understood the kind of movies they showed there, I felt a direct jolt between my legs.

It was one of those old-fashioned porn theaters, the kind that survives like a dirty secret in the middle of the city. Two showings were about to begin. I looked down both sides of the passage. There was no one around. My heart began beating harder, not from fear, but from that nervous excitement that rises through your chest when you know you’re about to do something you don’t usually allow yourself to do.

I bought a ticket in a low voice, trying to sound calm. Behind the window, a huge older woman looked away from her television, took my money, and slid a pink ticket through the slot.

“Go upstairs to the back. The theater on the right is starting now. The other one a little later,” she said in a hoarse voice, as if selling tickets to that place were as routine as selling bread.

I thanked her and went on.

The hallway was old, almost beautiful in its own way. Worn red carpet, gold details, dark blue walls, and yellowing posters showing naked bodies in exaggerated poses. I stopped in front of one where a trans woman was swallowing a huge cock while someone held her by the hair. Just looking at it dried my mouth and heated me instantly. I felt my nipples stiffen beneath the fabric.

I climbed the stairs slowly, hearing the soft clicking of my short boots on the steps. When I reached the top, I saw both doors open and, without looking carefully, entered the wrong theater. I realized that later. At that moment I was greeted only by warm gloom, the smell of old fabric, dried semen, and cheap disinfectant, and the bluish glow of the screen.

There were few people. Very few. A thin bearded man far away, almost sunk into his seat. And another man closer to the entrance, separated from me by only a couple of rows. He was broad, gray at the temples, with the direct way of looking belonging to men who no longer beat around the bush.

I sat down, trying to seem casual, but as soon as he turned his head and fixed his eyes on me, I knew he had read me immediately. He saw my gestures, my clothes, the way I crossed my legs. And I saw him place his hand on his crotch and rub himself through his pants, slowly and shamelessly, staring at me without blinking.

I felt a crude heat pass through me. I looked at his hand. I looked at the shape beginning to show beneath the fabric. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. The lights finished going out and the screen filled the theater with flashes. My breathing changed. He undid his belt with insulting calm.

Between one scene and another in the movie, with the intermittent light barely washing over us, I saw him open his pants and pull out his cock. Thick, heavy, still only half-hard, resting on his thigh. It wasn’t beautiful in any clean sense. It was better. It was real. An adult cock, living flesh, calling to me.

I stayed still for a moment, feeling moisture run through my underwear and my own cock, small but sensitive, respond trapped against the fabric. The movie continued in front of us, moaning and panting, but I could barely hear it anymore. I heard only my blood.

Then I stood up.

I crossed the seats carefully and sat in his same row, several seats away. He smiled faintly without stopping his masturbation. The tip of his cock gleamed wetly in the reflection of the screen.

“Come closer,” he murmured.

His voice was low, deep, confident. It didn’t sound like a violent order, but like the kind of invitation I had already decided to accept even before hearing it.

I moved one seat closer. Then another. Until I was pressed against him. He smelled of cheap cologne, clean sweat, and an aroused man. He turned his seat slightly to make room for me and spread his legs wider.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, looking at my neck, my chest, my waist. “What’s your name?”

“Abril.”

“I’m Darío. Do you want to touch it?”

I didn’t answer with words. I slid my hand over his abdomen, down to the coarse hair poking out, and wrapped my fingers around his cock. It was hot and alive, hardening further at once beneath my palm. Darío let out a long sigh and leaned his head back.

I started slowly, moving my hand up and down with the same pressure I would have liked to feel myself. The skin shifted over the thick shaft, the tip growing wetter with every stroke, and the sound of my hand sliding over him was almost as arousing as the moans in the movie.

“That’s it... yes, like that,” he murmured. “You have a delicious hand.”

I liked hearing him say it. I liked feeling watched and useful, turned into the center of his desire in the middle of that nearly empty theater. I lowered my head and kept jerking him off while watching him from the corner of my eye. On the screen, another trans woman bent over a cock. The coincidence made me smile.

“That turns you on, doesn’t it?” he said, noticing.

“Yes.”

“Me too. But right now you turn me on more.”

His words gave me the final push. I knelt between the seats, sweeping my hair to one side. I was exactly level with his crotch, my face so close to his cock that I could feel the heat coming off it. The tip was swollen and shiny. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue a little just to touch it.

Darío let out a sharp, restrained moan.

I gave him one slow lick from the base to the head, savoring the saltiness of his skin and the thick smell of aroused sex. Then I wrapped my lips around the tip and took it slowly into my mouth. It really was thick. I had to open wide to take it. I lowered myself as far as I could and felt my throat tighten.

“Fuck...” he whispered. “Don’t stop.”

I went back up and down, this time with more rhythm. My tongue worked over his frenulum, my lips tightened, and one of my hands massaged what I couldn’t fit all the way inside. I sucked him hungrily, without trying to be delicate, because I was already too hot to pretend innocence. Saliva ran down my chin and slipped onto my neck.

Darío grabbed my hair firmly, not to hurt me, but to guide me. He pushed a little when I lowered myself, and I accepted the pressure. I took him deeper. I felt the head hit the back of my throat and gagged, but I didn’t pull away. On the contrary. I breathed through my nose and let him in again.

“That’s it, swallow it,” he said, breathing faster now. “What a delicious mouth you have, Abril.”

Hearing my name like that, with his cock inside me, made me even hotter. I squeezed my thighs together. My own arousal was already painful. While I sucked him, I brought one hand to the bulge in my pants and stroked myself through the fabric. Darío noticed and let out a hoarse laugh.

“Do you want to come too, sweetheart?”

I nodded without letting go, my mouth full.

He put one hand beneath my blouse and touched my chest, my nipples stiff beneath the thin fabric. He pinched them gently at first, then more firmly. I moaned against his cock, and the vibration made him shudder.

“Do that again.”

I did. I sucked him faster, swallowing saliva, alternating long sucks with quick licks at the tip. Then I lowered myself to his balls and took them into my mouth one at a time, wet and heavy, while jerking him off with my hand. Darío spread his legs wider and began moving his hips, taking my mouth with small thrusts.

The movie continued playing in front of us, intermittently lighting my body as I leaned between the seats. It made everything dirtier, more public, more exciting. At any moment someone could turn around and see a delicate-looking trans girl swallowing a stranger’s cock in a porno theater. And instead of frightening me, the thought made me even wetter.

Darío lowered his hand to my waist, unbuttoned my pants, and opened them enough to slip his fingers inside. He found my tight underwear and pulled the fabric aside. His fingers brushed my already-hard cock, and he let out a pleased grunt.

“Well, look at that...” he said. “You’re burning up.”

He stopped guiding my hair only to jerk me off. His large hand wrapped around my cock and began moving it to the rhythm of my mouth on his. I almost went crazy. I pulled my cock from my mouth for barely a second to gasp, but he put it back between my lips.

“No, keep going. I want to feel you sucking me while I jerk you off.”

That’s what I did. I sank onto him again, letting him use me a little more. His hand moved up and down my cock with practiced confidence. Sometimes he squeezed the base, sometimes he rubbed the tip with his wet thumb, and I answered with hoarse moans, drooling all over his cock.

“You suck so well, fuck. As if you were born for this.”

The phrase was crude and perfect. I didn’t want tenderness at that moment. I wanted this. I wanted rawness. I wanted to be his cock-hungry bitch in the darkness of a run-down theater. I looked up at him, my wet lips around the head, and he understood that he could continue.

He took me by the chin and made me open my mouth wider. Then he pushed harder. He went all the way in once, twice, three times. I had to hold on to his thigh to keep my balance. My eyes burned. My throat filled with saliva. But a brutal rush ran through my entire body each time he penetrated my mouth.

His hand left my cock for a moment and moved down to my ass. He pulled the fabric aside just enough to slip his fingers between my cheeks and press. He didn’t enter me, but that direct, wet, obscene touch drew such a loud moan from me that I had to pull away for a moment to breathe.

“I want to hear you,” he murmured.

“I love sucking your cock,” I told him, no longer pretending to be embarrassed. “I love having your cock in my mouth.”

His eyes gleamed in the darkness.

“Then come back and swallow it whole.”

I went back. This time with more hunger. I took him as deep as I could, moving up and down almost furiously. One hand on his balls, my mouth open, saliva pouring over his thigh and the seat. I felt the taste of his arousal growing more intense. I could tell from his breathing that he was close.

Darío pushed my hair back and began fucking my mouth for real. His thrusts followed the broken rhythm of his panting. I let him do it, swallowing him, choking a little, pulling him out only far enough to suck the tip before sinking back down. My own cock throbbed painfully; my orgasm was already building in my belly.

“I’m going to come,” he said in a broken voice. “Don’t pull away.”

I had no intention of pulling away.

I took him deep one last time and kept my head down while his whole body tensed. I felt the first hot spurt strike the back of my throat. Then another. And another. He came violently, holding my hair tightly, shooting his cum into my mouth while moaning through clenched teeth. I swallowed what I could, and what I couldn’t ran from the corners of my mouth and stained my chin.

Darío continued releasing short spurts over my tongue and lips. When I finally pulled away, gasping, he gave me a couple of soft taps with his still-pulsing cock against my open mouth. I looked up at him, my face wet with saliva and semen, and saw a mixture of relief, desire, and surprise in his expression.

“Shit...” he said. “You suck like a pro.”

I wiped myself a little with the back of my hand, smiling faintly. But he wasn’t finished with me. His breathing was still heavy, and his hand went back down to my crotch, as if now he wanted to return the favor all the way.

“Now it’s your turn,” he murmured.

He opened my pants wider and pulled my cock out over my underwear. It was hard, shiny, and sensitive to the point of pain. He wrapped his hand around it, still wet with my own arousal, and began jerking me slowly, watching me as I remained kneeling before him.

“You have a beautiful cock,” he said. “Small, yes, but beautiful. And you’re about to come—I can tell.”

I bit my lip. His words turned me on more than I wanted to admit. He kept jerking me, slowly at first, then faster, without losing the rhythm. With his other hand he stroked my nape, my chest, my waist. It was a strange contrast: vulgar with his mouth, gentle with his hands. It drove me crazy.

I sucked his soft cock, which was beginning to regain some hardness, just the tip, by pure reflex, while he masturbated me. The whole theater seemed to shrink down to that seat, his hand, and my broken breathing.

“Come on, Abril. Come for me.”

That was enough. The orgasm rose from my belly to my chest like an electric shock. I arched, gripping the back of the seat, and came in his hand in shuddering bursts, staining my abdomen and part of my open clothing. I let out a moan louder than was prudent, but I no longer cared. Nothing mattered to me during those seconds.

Darío didn’t let go of my cock until he had milked out the last pulse. Then he adjusted my clothes with an almost intimate calm, as if that filthy scene between strangers also contained some unexpected tenderness. I was still trembling a little.

We remained silent, watching the screen without really seeing it. In the back, the bearded man was still in his seat, who knew whether unaware or simply accustomed to such things happening in that place. The theater smelled even thicker now: of freshly made sex, semen, and hot fabric.

“You came in by accident, didn’t you?” Darío asked.

I gave a low laugh.

“That’s what I want to believe.”

He smiled and stroked my cheek with his knuckles.

“Then I hope you go into the wrong theater more often.”

I pulled up my blouse, finished straightening myself, and sat beside him for another minute, trying to put my thoughts in order. Less than an hour earlier I had been walking home thinking about completely ordinary things. Now I was half-disheveled, my throat full of the taste of a mature man, my legs still weak from coming in a porn theater.

I didn’t feel used. Or sorry. I felt alive, desired, fiercely aroused by having allowed myself to cross a door I had spent far too long imagining from a distance.

When I finally stood to leave, Darío stopped me by barely touching my wrist.

“Take care, Abril.”

“You too.”

I left the theater with my pulse still racing. I went down the red stairs, crossed the hallway of obscene posters, and returned to the street as if nothing had happened. There was still some daylight outside. The city was the same. I wasn’t, not entirely.

As I walked toward my apartment, I ran my tongue over my upper lip and could still taste him. Then I smiled. I had gone in out of curiosity, yes. But I left knowing exactly why I would come back.