No Chance

No Chance

It's challenging to take a walk on the wild side where
the doors of the peep show theater stalls won't lock
and the walls between them have glory holes.
I mean, hey, I wanted to do something risque,
but I didn't count on having to share my act
with the shadowy figure in the next berth.
"I don't know about this, honey," my wife says.
"I'd be willing to bet we're being watched."

She'd win.

"Why don't we watch a couple of loops," I offer,
"and give things a chance to settle back down?"
It isn't long before my wife and I are laughing at the screen,
both of us hopeful that the situation will resolve itself
and we can get down to the business at hand.
Soon enough, our nosy neighbor exits
and we are left to our own devices
there in the flickering blue light.

Hot damn!

After insuring that the player never hungers for tokens,
lest we be interrupted by some other anxious patron
or patrons eager to take our place, my wife then
unzips my fly and releases my swelling cock,
plunging it into the depths of her mouth.
And though she seems willing to do some mean work on my member
(there is nothing perfunctory in her performance on this night),
I fail to properly enjoy myself and come in mere seconds.

Oh, well.

I imagined this scenario differently, I must admit.
Even so, I'm grinning and my wife is grinning
and if there's a guy in the booth beyond,
you can bet your ass he's grinning, too.
And how bad can it be with so much shameless grinning going on?
Nonetheless, it occurs to me that perhaps the anticipation was
in this case a good deal more exciting than the actual event,
that maybe I'd let myself down by peaking so quickly.

No chance.