What I Did in the Adult Cinema Booths

I’d been obsessed with the same idea for months. I couldn’t get it out of my head: I wanted to go into one of those adult cinemas downtown, the ones with private booths and walls punctured with holes at just the right height. Anonymous cocks poking through like gifts nobody had asked for. But I wasn’t after total anonymity. I wanted something more extreme.

I wanted to go in with Bruno and Iván, my two lovers, and let a handful of strangers take part while those two had me at their mercy. That was the fantasy. That night it stopped being one.

I’d talked to them about it for weeks, always halfway, always laughing, as if it were some game we were never actually going to play. But every time I brought it up, my pulse sped up, and they noticed. They noticed how my voice changed, how I crossed my legs under the table. Until one night Bruno set his glass on the table, looked me straight in the eye, and said that on Saturday we were doing it. No questions. And I nodded before I even thought about it.

I spent the next few days in a kind of fever. I could barely sleep. I caught myself fantasizing at work, squeezing my thighs in the car, counting the hours. I knew it was wrong, I knew what anyone who knew me would say. And precisely because of that, I wanted it even more.

I went down the stairs of that shabby basement with my heart in my throat and my cunt already soaked just from imagining what I was about to do. Bruno and Iván walked at my sides, their big bodies brushing mine at every step, their possessive hands on my waist and my ass. I was wearing a crop top that barely covered my tits, my nipples hard against the fabric. The miniskirt was so short that every stride reminded me I wasn’t wearing panties.

The smell hit me the moment I stepped off the last stair. Old sweat, dampness, stale desire. Instead of disgusting me, it made me even wetter. The screen at the back was blasting porn, moans bouncing off the sticky walls.

There were a few scattered silhouettes among the seats, lone men who didn’t look away from me as soon as I crossed the room. I felt all those eyes sliding over my bare legs, my cleavage, and instead of shrinking I straightened up even more. Let them look. That was what I’d come for. I walked between them on the arms of my two lovers as if I owned the place.

We chose the largest booth, the one in the corner. It had three perfect holes in the wall. We closed the door, but left it slightly ajar on purpose.

I want them to hear. I want them to know there’s something happening in here.

The second we stepped inside, Bruno shoved me against the filthy wall. He hiked my skirt up slowly, with that slowness he knows drives me wild, and opened my legs with his knee.

—Look how wet you already are, Carla —he said in my ear.

He pushed in two thick fingers and curved them right in, without searching, as if he knew the path by heart. I moaned loudly, biting my lip. Behind me, Iván yanked my top down and grabbed my tits, pinching my nipples until the pain turned into something else.

They worked me over between them. Bruno knelt and started eating my cunt as if he hadn’t tasted anything in days, his tongue going in and out, his mouth closing over my clit. Iván bit my neck and shoved his fingers into my mouth for me to suck. I didn’t know where to look, what to feel first.

Then the first cocks appeared through the holes in the wall.

One on the left, thick. Another on the right, longer and thinner. I took them in my hands, one in each palm, and started jerking them slowly, feeling how hard and hot they got against my skin, how they dripped over my fingers. I couldn’t see their faces. I didn’t need to.

Bruno stood up, pulled down his pants, and forced me to my knees on that filthy floor. He grabbed my hair and fucked my throat slowly, centimeter by centimeter, until I felt like I couldn’t take any more. Tears escaped on their own, saliva ran down my chin and dripped onto my tits. And all the while, I kept jerking off the two strangers.

—That’s our bitch —said Iván, positioning himself behind me—. Isn’t that right?

—Yes —I managed to answer, my mouth full.

***

Iván smeared my ass with my own wetness and pushed into me slowly, forcing his way in. Oh, God, that stretching. That burning that takes two seconds to turn into pure pleasure once it starts moving. I stayed still for a moment, not breathing, until my body gave in and took all of him.

There I was. Bruno fucking my throat in front, Iván drilling my ass from behind, and my two hands milking strangers who didn’t even know my name. The first orgasm hit me like that, without warning. I came in torrents, soaking the floor, splashing the walls, shaking between the two of them.

The anonymous men couldn’t hold out much longer. I felt the first spurts flying through the holes, landing on my face, in my hair, on my neck. I swallowed what I could. The thick salty taste filled my mouth and, far from stopping me, it lit me up even more.

They pulled me up off the floor. Bruno sat in the booth seat and made me lower myself slowly onto him. I felt every vein rubbing inside me, the pressure climbing all the way to the back. I moaned like a madwoman, clutching his shoulders, moving on him in slow circles.

Iván moved behind me again. He opened my ass once more and went in. Full double penetration. Both of them inside me at the same time, rubbing against each other through my body, every movement an electric shock climbing up my spine. I could barely speak. I could only moan and breathe in broken bursts.

I leaned toward the holes and sucked every last thing that appeared. Suddenly a huge cock came out through one of them, bigger than the others. I took it all the way down, comparing it in my head to the two filling me, feeling like the filthy queen of that little room.

Through the crack in the door I could see shadows moving. They’d come closer. They knew what was happening inside and wanted their turn, waiting for a hole to open so they could slip theirs in. That idea, being desired by people whose faces I couldn’t see, took me right to the edge again.

—Tell them you’re enjoying it —Bruno ordered, driving into me from below—. Let them hear you.

And I moaned. I moaned without holding anything back, loud, so every man in that basement would know exactly what they were doing to me. My moans bounced off the walls and mixed with the ones from the screen until I no longer knew which were mine.

***

I lost count of the orgasms. They came one after another, in waves, each one longer than the last. I came and started again before I’d even come down fully, my thighs trembling, my knees weak. The strangers kept spilling against me, their hot cum sticking to my skin, running over me everywhere, covering me like a mark that wouldn’t wash off.

The ending was slow and brutal at the same time. Bruno and Iván accelerated together, growling, sweating on top of me, their ragged breathing against my nape. I felt both of them swell at once.

Bruno exploded inside me, thick hot jets filling me until I felt the pressure overflowing and sliding down my thighs. Iván came in my ass half a second later, his cum mixing with everything else. And, as if they’d rehearsed it, the holes in the wall burst almost all at once. Cum from every direction, raining down on me, sticking to my face, my tits, my back.

I swallowed what reached my mouth. I covered myself with the rest. I bathed in it without a shred of shame.

They left me there, trembling, open, dripping everywhere, my body sticky with both dry and fresh semen. I smelled like pure sex, like basement, like night. It took me a good while to be able to stand up.

Bruno brushed my hair out of my face with a tenderness that didn’t fit what had just happened, and kissed my forehead slowly. Iván helped me readjust my top and skirt, though they were of little use by then. The two of them looked at me with a mix of pride and desire, as if I were the best thing that had ever happened to them. And in that moment, a wreck and out of strength, I felt more powerful than ever.

***

I came out of the booth unsteady on my feet, my top twisted and my skirt stuck to my skin like a second damp layer. My legs were giving out. My cunt and ass throbbed with every step down the stairs. I made it up to the street with the cold dawn air hitting my face and a smile too big for my body.

I got home an absolute mess. And that was the best part of all, the part that turns this confession into what it is: my husband was waiting up for me.

He didn’t ask me anything. He just looked me up and down, took me to bed, and licked every drop off me while I told him everything in detail. How I went in. What I felt. Every cock, every orgasm, every load. And while I narrated it to him, I moaned again, turned on all over, reliving it word for word.

—Tell me the last part again —he asked against my skin.

And I told him. As many times as he wanted.