The Arcade
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Skip & The Arcade free porn video
The following is a completely true story from my informative years. The names and places have been changed. The year, tragically, has not.
I was a fairly innocent 18-year-old when I started college in the late 1970's. I had come to terms with the fact that I was gay, although I would never have admitted that to anyone, particularly not at school. In those days you stayed in the closet as late as you possibly could.
I don't know if Skip knew I was gay or not. Skip was a very hot guy who was in several of my classes. He was only a couple of months younger than I, tall, athletic, blonde hair, very handsome. He was also completely, and tragically, straight. I had a little bit of a crush on him, although I could never tell him (or anyone else). There was also a whispered rumor, coming from several girls in our classes, that he was extremely well endowed. When I would dare to steal a glance, his basket often looked impressive, bulging out the front of his tight jeans, but of course there was no way for me to find out for myself. Although he had a fairly steady girlfriend he was never afraid to flirt with any other girl. For some strange reason, that turned me on.
Because I was attracted to him, I made sure to engage him in conversation as often as I could. He responded warmly and we found we had a lot in common. We started hanging out, having lunch, studying together. I was in heaven being in his close proximity; he never appeared to suspect a thing.
As soon as I started college I also quickly discovered, and fell in love with, the local adult bookstore. I loved being able to walk into the dark, dingy arcade, go into one of the little plywood partitioned rooms, lock the door behind me, pull my pants off and put a quarter in the slot. This was before the days of video, so a little 8mm projector in a plywood box with a plexiglass front would whir to life and I would watch a silent loop of hot couples fucking and sucking projected onto a panel that had once been painted white. This was a conservative navy town, so none of the loops at this porn store were ever gay, although I'm sure some of the sailors cruising the place were (even though I never had the guts to approach any of them -- until much later). But I loved to watch those old, scratched, poorly spliced together porn films. It really turned me on and over a few years I must have squirted gallons of cum all over the floor of every single one of those arcade booths.
One day while studying together at the school library, Skip, without looking up and apropos of nothing, suddenly said, "Hey, I was driving down Callow Avenue yesterday afternoon. I think I saw you going into that porn store that's down there. Was that you?"
Panic! I froze. Droplets of cold sweat formed on my forehead. I was caught, one of my worst fears. "Oh, no. I mean ... I was walking down Callow yesterday, yeah. I guess I must've walked by that porn store. Didn't go in though. That'd be gross."
"No. You were definitely going in," Skip looked at me in a very non-confrontational, unaccusing manner. "I was about to honk, but you went in." Fuck! Trapped! He looked contemplative for a moment. "I've always wanted to go into one of those places but I've never had the guts. What's it like in there?"
I stammered out a quick explanation about the store area being in front with its magazine racks and packaged dildos, and even managed a simple, toned down description of the arcade. I thought the topic would be done with then and there, but I quickly discovered my depiction of the place made Skip even more interested.
"Are there women there?" He bit his lower lip. "Are they hookers or easy, slutty women or what?"
I explained I had never actually seen a woman in the place. "It's a very masculine atmosphere. Basically it's guys going in there to get a piece of their own hand," I said trying to make a joke out of it all.
"Well, next time you go can I go with you?" Skip looked at me earnestly.
What the fuck?!? "Sure. I guess so," I shrugged. How could I tell him these places were not really very conducive to group activity (I wouldn't learn the truth about that for another couple of years).
About a week later, after I'd been to the porn store two or three more times alone, Skip brought up the subject again. "When are you going to head back that porn store down on Callow? I really want to find out what goes on there."
Guess he was serious about checking it out with me. All right, fine. "How about this afternoon, right after our final class?"
"Sounds perfect," Skip smiled broadly. He was excited. I could tell he was just as thrilled with this adventure as he would have been if we had been going to Disneyland.
About 4 o'clock that afternoon he drove the two of us down to Callow Avenue. We walked into the bookstore, and every man's head in the place turned trying to get a better look at these two 18-year-old boys entering together. I took Skip straight up to the counter, explaining how to exchange dollar bills for a handful of quarters from the leering guy manning the cash register. Then we went through the ratty (formally) red curtains into the dark hallway of the arcade. 12 or 15 doors lined the makeshift wall, each door with a red or green light blazing above it.
"It's kind of creepy," Skip whispered. "It's dingy, and dirty, and it smells like -- I don't know what it smells like." It smelled like cum. "Everything's painted black, and there's holes in the walls. Wow!" Skip was getting more and more excited. "I really like it." I was slightly taken aback by his enthusiasm. "So, what do we do?"
I opened the closest door that had a green light burning above it. With a mock formal bow, I ushered him into the tiny room. I'm not sure what he had expected, but the dingy smallness of the cubicle clearly did not impress him. I showed him the box with the projector in it, and the small metal box chained to the wall. "You put the quarters in here, you sit in this chair, you watch the movie on that screen. When the movie stops, you put another quarter in. It probably takes two dollars to see the whole thing. If you ever want to see the whole thing. The box of Kleenex on the wall is pretty self-explanatory," I laughed. "When you are done with this movie, or go to another room and see a different one."
Skip was grinning ear to ear. "Totally cherry!" (In those days that meant something was very good.) "But there's only one chair." He looked around the room. "It's OK, you take the chair, I'll sit on the floor."
Before I could draw breath to stop him, Skip plopped down on the floor, leaning against the wall. I wondered if I should tell him what that mattered carpet he was sitting on was covered in and coated with. I chose to remain silent.
But I had a dilemma. How could I tell my hot young friend that this was not the kind of movie-going activity you shared with others? I decided being upfront was the best route to take. "Skip, maybe we should go into different booths."
"Geez, that's a big waste of money. We can both watch the same movie on one quarter. Put one in the machine. Let's have a look at this thing."
I sighed, shrugged and gave up. Guess I wasn't going to be jacking off to porn today. I sat down, dropping a quarter in the slot. The coin clanged as it fell into the receiving vault. The projector above my head began to purr and the single light bulb that illuminated the booth went out. On the screen the image started slowly then caught up to speed. Starting in the middle of an uninspired scene, we saw a young hairy-chested Italian man and two plain women. The saggy breasted women were engaged in giving the stud a double blowjob.
Usually this would be the kind of movie I would watch for one quarter's worth and then go find another more interesting film in another room. I preferred the movies with a higher ratio of men to women. But within 10 seconds of the film starting, Skip blew out a noiseless whistle. "Wow! This is really hot!"
I glanced over at him. His wide eyes were riveted to the screen. The bulge in his tight jeans was getting noticeably larger. I told myself I had to be careful not to get caught staring at it. My greatest hope was that when the movie was over he would stand up and I might actually be able to see the outline of his erect cock through his pants and have at least a vague idea of how big it actually was. If only I had known to dream bigger dreams.
"Are they all this good?" He had wonder in his voice.
"Oh, this one is only OK." Speaking, I had an excuse to glance over at him again. "Some of them get spectacularly hot and nasty."
"Hmm," was all he responded. He was transfixed by the three-way in front of him. He reached down and carelessly ran his hand over his bulge, rubbing it slightly, then he crossed his arms. I couldn't believe he had just done that in front of me, and apparently without any self-consciousness. I was instantly hard as a rock.
On the poorly painted panel that doubled as a screen, one of the women sat on the man's face, while the other straddled his torso, slowly lowering her pussy over his cock.
"Oh, yeah," Skip was almost inaudible. I dared not look over at him. I thought, wow, here's this guy I have a crush on with a hard-on in the midst of absolute frenzied lust. How did I luck out being in the same room with him?
The projector suddenly stopped, the bare lightbulb flashing to life again.
"Do you like this movie?" I asked Skip. "Want to try a different room?"
His voice was huskey, gravelly in a way I had never heard before. "No, I like this one."
I plunked another quarter into the metal box, and the lightbulb went out again.
The stud on the screen begin to fuck the woman while eating the other's pussy. The two women leaned into each other and begin kissing.
Skip didn't say a word, he didn't acknowledge my presence, he didn't ask my permission, he didn't do anything. Except one thing: he undid the top of his pants, unzipped his fly, pushed down the front of his tidy-whiteys and pulled out his huge, now rock hard cock.
I gasped, desperately but clandestinely trying to catch it all out of the corner of my eye without staring. I knew I couldn't get away with turning my head and looking directly at what was happening on the floor right beside me. Jesus, was Skip really doing this?
He was. Skip raised his hips slightly and pulled his jeans down around his thighs, then began stroking his cock in earnest. I couldn't stop myself any longer and I turned my head and directly looked. His cock had to have been at least eight and a half inches long and fairly thick on top of that. He was cut, with a large, bulbous mushroom head. The vein on his cock was pronounced and I found it irresistibly sexy. His balls were quite large, and very naturally hairy, as were his pubes. (That's how we wore them in those days, untrimmed.) His hand absent-mindedly worked up and down his cock a couple of strokes, then he spit into his palm and began to jacking himself slowly.
He noticed I was watching him (how could he not?), and turned, looking inquisitively at me. "Something wrong?"
"Uh, no. No, not at all," I stammered.
"This is what we're supposed to do here, right? Beat off. That's what they want you to do, right? Aren't we supposed to beat off to this porn movie?"
"Uh, yeah. I usually do. Always, actually. I usually always do. Yeah," I was completely flummoxed.
"Thought so." His attention returned to the threesome on the screen, as his hand wrapped around his massive cock, now fervently stroking it up and down.
All right then, I thought. If you can't beat them, beat with them. I opened my pants, pulled out my own 7 inch prick and started working it. I would glance over at Skip periodically but he never seemed to notice. Or if he did notice he didn't seem to mind that I was looking. Every once in a while he would spit into his hand or lick his palm, relubeing it for his cock and then return to pounding his impressive meat. With his left hand he would cup his large balls, occasionally pulling on them.
I couldn't believe this was happening: the hot guy I'd had a secret crush on for the last month was openly jacking off right beside me. I was in ecstasy. I was not even remotely paying attention to the movie now. At least not until Skip suddenly, involuntarily whispered, "That's the way."
I looked up at the screen. The Italian stud was standing over the two women. His (not nearly as large as Skip's) cock was squirting cum onto their faces.
"Fuck, yeah," Skip whispered. I assumed we were suddenly watching one of his favorite forbidden fantasies.
The screen faded to black. Skip looked at me. "Is it over?" Before I could respond the splice in the projector clicked loudly and the movie started at the beginning again. The Italian stud, now fully dressed, was speaking to the two women in mime. Both women were wearing French maid uniforms. I rolled my eyes at the clichéd situation as the projector stopped again and the lightbulb snapped on. Now was my chance, I had an excuse to have a look at Skip's huge cock in the full light. I turned to him and took in the sight of one of the most beautiful, majestic pieces of man-meat I had ever seen.
I quickly remembered my cover reason for looking in his direction. "Should I put in another quarter?"
Even though the film was not running, Skip did not stop furiously masturbating as he looked at me. "Yeah, I want to see the beginning now." He pulled on his balls. There was a drip of precum sparkling at the piss-slit of his glorious mushroom head. With his thumb he gathered the juice and slowly smeared it in circles over the head.
I could've cum right then. But I knew better than to give myself away by doing that without the film running. I practically threw another quarter into the machine and the lightbulb extinguished.
I continued trying to grab glances at Skip's enthusiastic masturbation session which only caused me to jerk my own cock harder and harder. He clearly was getting fairly close to orgasm, his breathing was shallow and his hand was nearly a blur as it sprang up and down his long thick shaft.
On the screen the Italian stud reached into the front of one of the women's panties, feeling and fingering her pussy underneath the sheer fabric. "Oh, fuck, yes!" Skip gasped. "That's what I like. That's what I really fucking like."
"You like when they feel under their panties?" I was fascinated by what turned him on.
"Oh, fuck, yeah. I love it." He glanced over at me, clearly taking a long appreciative look at my cock as I stroked it, and then said in his husky voice, "Hand me a couple of those Kleenex."
I gave him a couple, which he carefully folded over, then held behind the head of his cock. He stroked faster and faster, his eyes glued to the screen. When the Italian stud shoved his hand inside the second woman's panties, Skip moaned and then exploded. Salvo after salvo of thick, viscous, ropey, cum squirted into a pool in the Kleenex. Four or five massive squirts shot into the folded tissues, nearly filling them with salty spunk.
Needless to say, at the sight and smell of Skip's cum I shot my load as well. I didn't use any Kleenex though, I never did. I just let my fountain of sperm fly through the air and splatter onto the stained and badly worn carpeting.
Catching my breath I looked over at Skip. He had clearly watched me shoot my load. Now, he wiped the head of his cock clean of remnants of his dripping sperm, neatly folded up the Kleenex and put it on the floor next to him. He stood up, then pulled up his pants and did up the fly. "How often do you do this?"
I felt a little guilty. "Two or three times a week." Mostly true. It was really more like four or five times a week.
"Wow, two or three times a week, huh?" Skip looked at the screen as the projector once again died and the lightbulb flashed on. "Well, I want to come with you when you do this again. I like this. Let's do this again tomorrow."
He waited until I had zipped up my pants, then he unlocked and opened the door and confidently walked out into the store. I followed my hung friend, however, before I left the booth I picked up the used Kleenex that was now full of his sperm. And I pocketed it. That would be fun for later when I jacked off rerunning the entire afternoon in my memory.
After that day Skip and I often went back to the arcade together. And every time we went, we always jacked off together to one of those old porn loops. Sometimes I would sit on the floor and he would take the chair, sometimes the other way around. But we always jacked off side-by-side. And he always used a folded up Kleenex to catch his large loads of cum. And as often as I could, I would take that Kleenex home with me.
By the way, his cum was always delicious.
I always love to hear from readers. If this story gets you off, or even if you just enjoyed it, please give me a shout.
I was a fairly innocent 18-year-old when I started college in the late 1970's. I had come to terms with the fact that I was gay, although I would never have admitted that to anyone, particularly not at school. In those days you stayed in the closet as late as you possibly could.
I don't know if Skip knew I was gay or not. Skip was a very hot guy who was in several of my classes. He was only a couple of months younger than I, tall, athletic, blonde hair, very handsome. He was also completely, and tragically, straight. I had a little bit of a crush on him, although I could never tell him (or anyone else). There was also a whispered rumor, coming from several girls in our classes, that he was extremely well endowed. When I would dare to steal a glance, his basket often looked impressive, bulging out the front of his tight jeans, but of course there was no way for me to find out for myself. Although he had a fairly steady girlfriend he was never afraid to flirt with any other girl. For some strange reason, that turned me on.
Because I was attracted to him, I made sure to engage him in conversation as often as I could. He responded warmly and we found we had a lot in common. We started hanging out, having lunch, studying together. I was in heaven being in his close proximity; he never appeared to suspect a thing.
As soon as I started college I also quickly discovered, and fell in love with, the local adult bookstore. I loved being able to walk into the dark, dingy arcade, go into one of the little plywood partitioned rooms, lock the door behind me, pull my pants off and put a quarter in the slot. This was before the days of video, so a little 8mm projector in a plywood box with a plexiglass front would whir to life and I would watch a silent loop of hot couples fucking and sucking projected onto a panel that had once been painted white. This was a conservative navy town, so none of the loops at this porn store were ever gay, although I'm sure some of the sailors cruising the place were (even though I never had the guts to approach any of them -- until much later). But I loved to watch those old, scratched, poorly spliced together porn films. It really turned me on and over a few years I must have squirted gallons of cum all over the floor of every single one of those arcade booths.
One day while studying together at the school library, Skip, without looking up and apropos of nothing, suddenly said, "Hey, I was driving down Callow Avenue yesterday afternoon. I think I saw you going into that porn store that's down there. Was that you?"
Panic! I froze. Droplets of cold sweat formed on my forehead. I was caught, one of my worst fears. "Oh, no. I mean ... I was walking down Callow yesterday, yeah. I guess I must've walked by that porn store. Didn't go in though. That'd be gross."
"No. You were definitely going in," Skip looked at me in a very non-confrontational, unaccusing manner. "I was about to honk, but you went in." Fuck! Trapped! He looked contemplative for a moment. "I've always wanted to go into one of those places but I've never had the guts. What's it like in there?"
I stammered out a quick explanation about the store area being in front with its magazine racks and packaged dildos, and even managed a simple, toned down description of the arcade. I thought the topic would be done with then and there, but I quickly discovered my depiction of the place made Skip even more interested.
"Are there women there?" He bit his lower lip. "Are they hookers or easy, slutty women or what?"
I explained I had never actually seen a woman in the place. "It's a very masculine atmosphere. Basically it's guys going in there to get a piece of their own hand," I said trying to make a joke out of it all.
"Well, next time you go can I go with you?" Skip looked at me earnestly.
What the fuck?!? "Sure. I guess so," I shrugged. How could I tell him these places were not really very conducive to group activity (I wouldn't learn the truth about that for another couple of years).
About a week later, after I'd been to the porn store two or three more times alone, Skip brought up the subject again. "When are you going to head back that porn store down on Callow? I really want to find out what goes on there."
Guess he was serious about checking it out with me. All right, fine. "How about this afternoon, right after our final class?"
"Sounds perfect," Skip smiled broadly. He was excited. I could tell he was just as thrilled with this adventure as he would have been if we had been going to Disneyland.
About 4 o'clock that afternoon he drove the two of us down to Callow Avenue. We walked into the bookstore, and every man's head in the place turned trying to get a better look at these two 18-year-old boys entering together. I took Skip straight up to the counter, explaining how to exchange dollar bills for a handful of quarters from the leering guy manning the cash register. Then we went through the ratty (formally) red curtains into the dark hallway of the arcade. 12 or 15 doors lined the makeshift wall, each door with a red or green light blazing above it.
"It's kind of creepy," Skip whispered. "It's dingy, and dirty, and it smells like -- I don't know what it smells like." It smelled like cum. "Everything's painted black, and there's holes in the walls. Wow!" Skip was getting more and more excited. "I really like it." I was slightly taken aback by his enthusiasm. "So, what do we do?"
I opened the closest door that had a green light burning above it. With a mock formal bow, I ushered him into the tiny room. I'm not sure what he had expected, but the dingy smallness of the cubicle clearly did not impress him. I showed him the box with the projector in it, and the small metal box chained to the wall. "You put the quarters in here, you sit in this chair, you watch the movie on that screen. When the movie stops, you put another quarter in. It probably takes two dollars to see the whole thing. If you ever want to see the whole thing. The box of Kleenex on the wall is pretty self-explanatory," I laughed. "When you are done with this movie, or go to another room and see a different one."
Skip was grinning ear to ear. "Totally cherry!" (In those days that meant something was very good.) "But there's only one chair." He looked around the room. "It's OK, you take the chair, I'll sit on the floor."
Before I could draw breath to stop him, Skip plopped down on the floor, leaning against the wall. I wondered if I should tell him what that mattered carpet he was sitting on was covered in and coated with. I chose to remain silent.
But I had a dilemma. How could I tell my hot young friend that this was not the kind of movie-going activity you shared with others? I decided being upfront was the best route to take. "Skip, maybe we should go into different booths."
"Geez, that's a big waste of money. We can both watch the same movie on one quarter. Put one in the machine. Let's have a look at this thing."
I sighed, shrugged and gave up. Guess I wasn't going to be jacking off to porn today. I sat down, dropping a quarter in the slot. The coin clanged as it fell into the receiving vault. The projector above my head began to purr and the single light bulb that illuminated the booth went out. On the screen the image started slowly then caught up to speed. Starting in the middle of an uninspired scene, we saw a young hairy-chested Italian man and two plain women. The saggy breasted women were engaged in giving the stud a double blowjob.
Usually this would be the kind of movie I would watch for one quarter's worth and then go find another more interesting film in another room. I preferred the movies with a higher ratio of men to women. But within 10 seconds of the film starting, Skip blew out a noiseless whistle. "Wow! This is really hot!"
I glanced over at him. His wide eyes were riveted to the screen. The bulge in his tight jeans was getting noticeably larger. I told myself I had to be careful not to get caught staring at it. My greatest hope was that when the movie was over he would stand up and I might actually be able to see the outline of his erect cock through his pants and have at least a vague idea of how big it actually was. If only I had known to dream bigger dreams.
"Are they all this good?" He had wonder in his voice.
"Oh, this one is only OK." Speaking, I had an excuse to glance over at him again. "Some of them get spectacularly hot and nasty."
"Hmm," was all he responded. He was transfixed by the three-way in front of him. He reached down and carelessly ran his hand over his bulge, rubbing it slightly, then he crossed his arms. I couldn't believe he had just done that in front of me, and apparently without any self-consciousness. I was instantly hard as a rock.
On the poorly painted panel that doubled as a screen, one of the women sat on the man's face, while the other straddled his torso, slowly lowering her pussy over his cock.
"Oh, yeah," Skip was almost inaudible. I dared not look over at him. I thought, wow, here's this guy I have a crush on with a hard-on in the midst of absolute frenzied lust. How did I luck out being in the same room with him?
The projector suddenly stopped, the bare lightbulb flashing to life again.
"Do you like this movie?" I asked Skip. "Want to try a different room?"
His voice was huskey, gravelly in a way I had never heard before. "No, I like this one."
I plunked another quarter into the metal box, and the lightbulb went out again.
The stud on the screen begin to fuck the woman while eating the other's pussy. The two women leaned into each other and begin kissing.
Skip didn't say a word, he didn't acknowledge my presence, he didn't ask my permission, he didn't do anything. Except one thing: he undid the top of his pants, unzipped his fly, pushed down the front of his tidy-whiteys and pulled out his huge, now rock hard cock.
I gasped, desperately but clandestinely trying to catch it all out of the corner of my eye without staring. I knew I couldn't get away with turning my head and looking directly at what was happening on the floor right beside me. Jesus, was Skip really doing this?
He was. Skip raised his hips slightly and pulled his jeans down around his thighs, then began stroking his cock in earnest. I couldn't stop myself any longer and I turned my head and directly looked. His cock had to have been at least eight and a half inches long and fairly thick on top of that. He was cut, with a large, bulbous mushroom head. The vein on his cock was pronounced and I found it irresistibly sexy. His balls were quite large, and very naturally hairy, as were his pubes. (That's how we wore them in those days, untrimmed.) His hand absent-mindedly worked up and down his cock a couple of strokes, then he spit into his palm and began to jacking himself slowly.
He noticed I was watching him (how could he not?), and turned, looking inquisitively at me. "Something wrong?"
"Uh, no. No, not at all," I stammered.
"This is what we're supposed to do here, right? Beat off. That's what they want you to do, right? Aren't we supposed to beat off to this porn movie?"
"Uh, yeah. I usually do. Always, actually. I usually always do. Yeah," I was completely flummoxed.
"Thought so." His attention returned to the threesome on the screen, as his hand wrapped around his massive cock, now fervently stroking it up and down.
All right then, I thought. If you can't beat them, beat with them. I opened my pants, pulled out my own 7 inch prick and started working it. I would glance over at Skip periodically but he never seemed to notice. Or if he did notice he didn't seem to mind that I was looking. Every once in a while he would spit into his hand or lick his palm, relubeing it for his cock and then return to pounding his impressive meat. With his left hand he would cup his large balls, occasionally pulling on them.
I couldn't believe this was happening: the hot guy I'd had a secret crush on for the last month was openly jacking off right beside me. I was in ecstasy. I was not even remotely paying attention to the movie now. At least not until Skip suddenly, involuntarily whispered, "That's the way."
I looked up at the screen. The Italian stud was standing over the two women. His (not nearly as large as Skip's) cock was squirting cum onto their faces.
"Fuck, yeah," Skip whispered. I assumed we were suddenly watching one of his favorite forbidden fantasies.
The screen faded to black. Skip looked at me. "Is it over?" Before I could respond the splice in the projector clicked loudly and the movie started at the beginning again. The Italian stud, now fully dressed, was speaking to the two women in mime. Both women were wearing French maid uniforms. I rolled my eyes at the clichéd situation as the projector stopped again and the lightbulb snapped on. Now was my chance, I had an excuse to have a look at Skip's huge cock in the full light. I turned to him and took in the sight of one of the most beautiful, majestic pieces of man-meat I had ever seen.
I quickly remembered my cover reason for looking in his direction. "Should I put in another quarter?"
Even though the film was not running, Skip did not stop furiously masturbating as he looked at me. "Yeah, I want to see the beginning now." He pulled on his balls. There was a drip of precum sparkling at the piss-slit of his glorious mushroom head. With his thumb he gathered the juice and slowly smeared it in circles over the head.
I could've cum right then. But I knew better than to give myself away by doing that without the film running. I practically threw another quarter into the machine and the lightbulb extinguished.
I continued trying to grab glances at Skip's enthusiastic masturbation session which only caused me to jerk my own cock harder and harder. He clearly was getting fairly close to orgasm, his breathing was shallow and his hand was nearly a blur as it sprang up and down his long thick shaft.
On the screen the Italian stud reached into the front of one of the women's panties, feeling and fingering her pussy underneath the sheer fabric. "Oh, fuck, yes!" Skip gasped. "That's what I like. That's what I really fucking like."
"You like when they feel under their panties?" I was fascinated by what turned him on.
"Oh, fuck, yeah. I love it." He glanced over at me, clearly taking a long appreciative look at my cock as I stroked it, and then said in his husky voice, "Hand me a couple of those Kleenex."
I gave him a couple, which he carefully folded over, then held behind the head of his cock. He stroked faster and faster, his eyes glued to the screen. When the Italian stud shoved his hand inside the second woman's panties, Skip moaned and then exploded. Salvo after salvo of thick, viscous, ropey, cum squirted into a pool in the Kleenex. Four or five massive squirts shot into the folded tissues, nearly filling them with salty spunk.
Needless to say, at the sight and smell of Skip's cum I shot my load as well. I didn't use any Kleenex though, I never did. I just let my fountain of sperm fly through the air and splatter onto the stained and badly worn carpeting.
Catching my breath I looked over at Skip. He had clearly watched me shoot my load. Now, he wiped the head of his cock clean of remnants of his dripping sperm, neatly folded up the Kleenex and put it on the floor next to him. He stood up, then pulled up his pants and did up the fly. "How often do you do this?"
I felt a little guilty. "Two or three times a week." Mostly true. It was really more like four or five times a week.
"Wow, two or three times a week, huh?" Skip looked at the screen as the projector once again died and the lightbulb flashed on. "Well, I want to come with you when you do this again. I like this. Let's do this again tomorrow."
He waited until I had zipped up my pants, then he unlocked and opened the door and confidently walked out into the store. I followed my hung friend, however, before I left the booth I picked up the used Kleenex that was now full of his sperm. And I pocketed it. That would be fun for later when I jacked off rerunning the entire afternoon in my memory.
After that day Skip and I often went back to the arcade together. And every time we went, we always jacked off together to one of those old porn loops. Sometimes I would sit on the floor and he would take the chair, sometimes the other way around. But we always jacked off side-by-side. And he always used a folded up Kleenex to catch his large loads of cum. And as often as I could, I would take that Kleenex home with me.
By the way, his cum was always delicious.
I always love to hear from readers. If this story gets you off, or even if you just enjoyed it, please give me a shout.
Louise
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