(continuation...) All at once, those feelings, the obsession were back in full force. The combination of the ABS visit, watching the dirty porno with KK, and the sex that followed were a trigger for me. After it was all over, both KK and I were a little stoned, a little drunk, and exhausted. We ended up in bed, KK dead to the world, sleeping, me fitful, anxious, fixated on what had transpired.
Although the VHS tape is long since gone, KK and I still watch this on “Porn Night” a couple of times a year, streaming it from our digital archive.
About three months later, KK raised the ABS visit again, begging me to take her on a return trip. Before leaving, I looked for the tokens leftover from our first visit, but couldn’t find them. In the moment, I decided I’d misplaced them - putting them somewhere I’d remember, which always guarantees whatever it was will disappear forever, until some random moment when the item turns up again. I didn’t think more about it at the time.
On our second visit, we were a little more daring. KK and I went to the back of the ABS, to view videos in the booths. On that visit, the place was more crowded - it was a Wednesday night. There were many, many men there, but mostly it appeared they were gay, or bi. KK attracted a lot of attention - this time she was wearing a dress, sandals, her hair in a pony-tail. The outfit was my idea, the combination of optimism that I’d get to engage KK sexually, or even better, get her felt up, perhaps even fucked. I’d even managed to talk KK into going with nothing on under that sexy dress, no panties, no bra.
This visit was less awkward in some ways, much more awkward in others. We went to the booths after about five minutes of “ice-breaking,” browsing the video racks. There were probably a dozen men in the long hallway separating the two halves of the back room. Maybe half of them took interest in KK’s presence, the remainder were engaged with one another in various activities, for the most part groping each other’s exposed cocks.
KK was doe-eyed, enthralled at the scene. Once she sort of snapped to, we cruised the hallway, looking for an unoccupied booth, examining the garish poster on the doorway that displayed the loops that were showing in a particular booth.
The first set of loops we watched were compilations of women blowing multiple men - “blow bang” clips, finishing with cum slathered facials on the women. KK was sitting on the sticky bench, atop which I’d placed quadruple folded paper towels from the roll inside the booth - her bare bottom on the barrier, hem of her skirt raised to allow me access to her pussy. I fingered her to orgasm in the six or seven minutes we occupied the booth. KK was visibly shaken by the experience, wobbly legs, her body hot, lightly sweating, face flushed.
With her composure somewhat restored, we exited the booth, nervously prowled the hallway, looking for the next viewing opportunity. At that point, more of the men present had taken notice. I was erect, in fact painfully engorged, bulging through my jeans to the point I felt hobbled.
The next booth we visited was not necessarily by conscious choice - KK was wobbly, nervous, I was outrageously hard, almost bent over, and we were being ogled so intensely it was palpable. We entered the second booth without perusing the door poster, almost as a means of escape.
I fed tokens in to start the video. The unfolding scene was a very young, petite white woman, being plowed by a huge, muscled, black male, with what appeared to be at least a foot of thick, veiny, enormous cock. KK was gasping for air as she watched. I put my hand under the hem of her dress to administer another finger-bang, incongruously she stopped me!
Instead, KK squatted on the floor, facing me. She undid my belt, unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans as if she was racing to put out a fire. KK took my cock out of my boxers, and went to town. I was alternating between the video clip, watching the little blond getting the shit fucked out of her, and looking at KK, who was making full eye-contact while she sucked and licked my cock.
I fought to delay cumming until the clip ended, succeeding in doing so, unloading in KK’s mouth. She swallowed every drop, leaving my cock clean, wet, and shiny, followed by a lascivious lick of my cock-head. As that was happening, there were a couple of soft knocks on the video booth’s door…
Once we’d put ourselves back together, we exited the booth, me in the lead. There had to be ten, maybe more, strange men clustered around the door. One stranger was standing almost directly in front of the booth door, his cock out, in hand - he was furiously masturbating. Even in the dim light of the hallway, it was obvious he was erect. KK grabbed my hand, then I felt like she jumped or flinched - that was immediately followed by “Let’s get out of here! I wanna go!”
We made a hurried exit, neither of us looking back, rushing to the car. Once I had KK inside, she blurted out, “A man touched my butt! Right under my dress, right in front of God and everybody!”
My reaction was an immediate, painful boner. I was speechless for a few minutes, trying to focus on driving, trying to absorb the experience of the last fifteen minutes. When I was able to speak, get my wits, I said, “Are you OK?”
KK said, “I guess so… can you believe some random dude would touch me like that, put his hand under my dress? Did you see that dude jerking himself? What the Hell! Was he jerking because of us?”
After a pause, I said, “Well, yes. That’s what they’re hoping for - some sexy, hot woman to play with. They’re hoping that’s why you were there…”
The rest of the ride home was in silence. We fucked like bunnies after, exhausting ourselves, repeatedly going at it until the wee hours of the morning. We were nearly too exhausted to go to work the next day.
After that second ABS visit, things got strange, at least for me. For days, then weeks, then months, I tried every technique I could think of to coax KK into another visit. In parallel, with my obsession re-awakened, I wove in pillow-talk fantasies of her fucking another man, or men, of her cheating, sneaking around.
Some I blended together - a visit to the ABS, sometimes with me, sometimes KK going solo, engaging in acts from exhibition to being ravaged by a man, or group of men in the booths. Most often, KK responded in what I considered a positive way, receptive during pillow-talk, followed by one or more smashing, writhing, screaming orgasms. Less often, she resisted the idea in some manner, discounting it, telling me I was “such a perv,” or trying to get me to change the topic. It was always followed by some variant of “It’ll never happen…”
