Thursday Night Betty

I realized that I had to piss as well as expel the semen from my ass, and told him that I had to use the toilet. He grinned and said, "You can pee wherever you want; it'll just go down the drain anyway. And as for your ass..." He shrugged. "You don't have to, of course, but I wouldn't mind having my own turn."

I gave him a slow smile as I spread my feet apart a little and let my piss run down my legs. I had never gone to the bathroom in front of a man before, and it felt as dirty as all the stuff that I'd just done. Then, I bent over the sink and spread my legs. The clerk took his already-hard cock out, got a tube of lube out of his pocket, and smeared some on his cock and on my tender asshole. He very gently penetrated my rosebud and thrust slowly into me as he reached around me and first rubbed my nipples and then my clit. I had yet another orgasm as he came in my ass, and then had a sort of mini-orgasm as I squatted on the toilet and expelled a long stream of semen out of my rectum. He finished cleaning me up, then gave me a real honest-to-gosh towel to dry off with. I got dressed and walked out to the front of the store; I felt a little awkward leaving, as if I couldn't pretend to go back to a normal life after what I had done.

"Say", the clerk said, "do you think you'll be back next Thursday?"

I hesitated. I had a successful business career, which would be instantly ruined if anyone identified me. But then I thought of how much more alive I felt now, and whether I could stand to go back to my solitary life with its perfunctory masturbation. I said, "I--I think that I will."

He nodded. "I think that you'll be the star attraction of this store. I can cut you in on part of the token sales. And if you get tired of plain old fucking and sucking..." He gestured toward the toys on the wall. "We have plenty of things to play with afterward."

"OK," I said. I paused, wondering how much I wanted to reveal of myself to this man who had just cornholed me in a porn store bathroom. "I'm, uh..."

"I'll call you Betty... and you can call me, uh, call me Barney." He grinned, and I smiled back. During the week that followed, I occasionally had second thoughts about going back, but something about Barney's grin--and, frankly, his skill at assfucking--brought me back. That, and the dreams that I had almost every night, of a never-ending chain of lovers, dreams that had me waking up with my cunt twitching in the aftershock of a massive orgasm and the bed soaked with my pussy juice.

I'm now a Thursday night regular. Instead of messing with all the makeup, I wear a wig and oversized tinted glasses; I don't even take my own car, but get picked up instead by Barney's cousin, who turned out to be the big-cocked man who was the first one to fuck me. I wear a simple dress with nothing underneath, and when it's cold out I wear a long coat and fake-fur-lined boots, and put my flip-flops in the coat pocket. The men draw straws for the privilege of fucking and being sucked by me first; the first ones get to watch my little strip and masturbation show. Some of the men thrust twenties through the glory holes after they're done; at first I felt slightly insulted because I thought that they assumed I was a whore, but eventually I recognized it for what it was, a spontaneous compliment. Some nights, I've gone home with more than $300 on top of my cut of the token sales. Plus, of course, I get a nice fuck from Barney afterward, sometimes including his cousin, and once an off-duty cop came in for the post-fucking cleanup and took all of his clothes off, including his back-up gun, and had me piss and expel my ass-cum all over him. I don't think that I have to worry about being arrested.

I doubt that I could stop now even if I wanted. Sure, I could just walk away from it, but I already spend six nights a week being a boring spinster. The seventh night, though... I create anew the legend of Thursday Night Betty.