Coming of Age in an Adult Theatre

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

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I recently discovered the erotic chatrooms here on Literotica. I have found it to be a small comfort in this age of Pandemic and isolation. I actually started chatting with a person that had actually read my stories and wondered if I ever planned to do any writing that detailed my flirtation with bisexuality. (Something I have mentioned from time to time in my works.)

I have never really explored this aspect of my past in my writing, and I guess inquiring minds (or at least one inquiring mind) wants to know.

So, if you are one of those people who prefers not to hear and this kind of thing -- and I know there are a lot of your out there - you have been warned. (For reference, the back button on most browsers is on either the upper left or lower left of the screen.)

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I was on my way cross country to a Southern California University where I had been given a full-boat scholarship -- so I wasn't stupid. But I was young and naïve -- especially about all things dealing with sex and sexuality.

I had all the knowledge one could get from high school sex education provided in one of the most conservative midwestern counties in the country. I had also peeked through a few of my dad's dirty magazines that he hid in the garage (all Playboys) and most recently had lost my virginity to my high school sweetheart at the tender age of 18.

(Her idea by the way. One put into her head by her older married sister. You can read about it in my story "Our Last Weeks Before College.")

But my understand of sex was incredibly vanilla, and this was a time before the internet, streaming services, and cellphones so there were few opportunities to learn more. I knew things like oral sex existed based on some cartoons I'd read in dad's magazines but didn't really think people actually did it, and I knew homosexuality existed because guys in the locker room would call each other faggot, but that was about the extent of it.

Anyway, I'd been driving west pretty much non-stop for two days and was in rural Nevada when a saw a big sign up ahead that said simply "Adult Books." It was above what was obviously once a truck stop gas station / convenience store now painted ugly green with blacked out windows. I had never been in one obviously and I was instantly intrigued. I decided to stop.

Pulling off the highway, I parked in a lot filled with perhaps 30 vehicles, about half of them semi-trucks. I put a few dollars and my drivers license in my pocket and carefully hid my wallet under the dashboard and locked up my old car, then walked to the entrance which had many, many signs saying no one under 18 was allowed inside. (I had achieved this age, so I wasn't worried.)

I expected to be carded when I entered the place and was surprised that the clerk didn't give me a second look. Not so for the other patrons, all men at least a decade older than me. They eyed me up pretty good before returning their attention to the merchandise.

And what merchandise it was.

There were four long shelving units just filled with magazines and books, all featuring cover photos that were both enticing, horny, and also a bit scary. As I walked the isles, each seemed more explicit than the last. There were split beavers, blow jobs, graphic photos of fucking and a few featuring men with two women or two women with a man.

One whole shelf promised "girl-on-girl action" which was a genre I had never even knew existed. (Lesbians were really not something I had any awareness of.)

I walked the isles in a kind of daze, not sure quite where to look next. Blondes. Brunettes. Boobs, butts and pubic hair. The magazines were all shrink wrapped shut but there were many titles on display so there were lots to look at anyway.

I took my time and finally settled on a shelf where I more closely examined the wares. There were big signs everywhere saying things like "This Isn't A Library" and "If You Open It You Own it" so I didn't dare though I really really wanted to.

While examining the covers I discovered that most of the magazines were close to $20 which was a lot of money back then. (A McDonalds hamburger was about 35 cents at the time.) While I saw many magazine that I really wanted to see the inside of, I had $5 in my pocket. It was window shopping for me and I wondered how long I would be able to do it before I was tossed from the store.

My lust turned into frustration as I went from shelf to shelf, eventually making my way to the back of the store where I saw the sign that said "Theater $6" with a few small posters showing photos obviously from the movies being shown inside. I wanted to go in there so bad but didn't have the bucks.

Then something happened that changed my life.

A big trucker type walked past me and as he approached the door, I hear the buzz that indicated he'd been given the right to go in. He looked back at me, then at the clerk at the front of the store who was actively not giving a shit. He made it plain he was holding the door open for me.

Without a moment's hesitation I darted into the entrance.

I will always remember that first glimpse of a moving porn movie. A blonde on her knees, naked except her black high heels. She had ruby red lipstick and a man's cock in her mouth. She was actively bobbing the first few inches of it in and out -- using her hand to help jack off the shaft as it was quite long.

I was mesmerized.

The trucker let me drink it in for a moment, then gave me the signal to follow him. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I realized that the theatre was 60 seats that looked as if it had been ripped from an older diner. Perhaps 20 men spread around the theatre.

I quickly realized that a few of them was leisurely masturbating as they watched the woman do her work. I was shocked but kept following the trucker.

He sat down and motioned for me to take a seat next to him, which I did almost without thinking.

"I'm guessing you've never been to something like this before."

I sheepishly smiled and nodded my head in agreement.

He smirked a little smirk and then we both turned out attention back to the movie.

I realized quickly that this wasn't a movie with a plot or continuing characters. A couple (or two couples) would appear on screen in various states of dress, caress, undress, then suck and fuck. Each vignette ended with a cum shot. On asses, bellies. boobs, and tongues.

I had never seen anything like this. Not even close.

I had experienced sex once and masturbated perhaps a handful of times -- only twice to completion. What I didn't know about the nasty, sticky drippy side of sex would have filled a few encyclopedias.

At some point I glanced over to my new pal and discovered that he had unzipped his pants. (I hand't heard the "zip" sound I guess because of the moaning and groaning of the girls onscreen.) His cock was just peeking out and he was playing lightly with the tip.

I couldn't help but stare at it, and he soon enough realized that I was looking. He leaned over and told me it was okay -- these places were all about jerking off to the movies, and with that he undid the top of his pants and pulled his penis out for a more complete jacking experience.

I could tell he was watching to see if this shocked me. I did not want to look but was concerned that if I moved my eyes away too quickly, I might offend the trucker. I tried hard not to show it, but honestly, I was petrified.

The trucker jacked for a bit -- showing himself off even as he thought I wanted to see it -- and finally leaned over without missing a stroke.

"Do it boy -- it's okay. Get your money's worth."

A bit of a joke as we both knew I had snuck into the movie with his help.

I had an erection -- almost painfully so -- and so the idea of doing the deed had some attraction. I also did not want to disobey the trucker. I dutifully undid my pants and fished around in my underwear, finally unveiling my young cock.

The trucker looked on in obvious approval, stroking his own cock in a display like he was showing me how. I realized with a bit of humor that my own cock was bigger than his. Much bigger. For some reason it made me happy. (Despite years of school showers and locker rooms, I don't know that I had ever compared cock sizes before. Maybe because I had never seen one erect other than my own. Not even in photos.)

I turned my attention back to the screen where a woman was on her hands and knees on the floor while a man was taking her from behind. The film switched often between her flushed face and very graphic photos of his penis plunging in and out of her very wet open cunt. She was asking -- screaming - for more and he was doing his best to give it to her. It was so hot.

Soon enough my hand went to work in a slow rhythm, and I lost the fear and embarrassment. I usually felt guilty about jerking off, but with all these men around doing it, I felt I had permission. I got into it so much that I actually forgot that there were others in the theater for a while.

At least until I felt the truckers hand reach out and take hold of my cock.

It was a momentary shock, but I didn't shy away from his attentions. Having someone else touching my cock felt amazing. Even my girlfriend had never really attempted to give me a hand job. (She had held it only briefly once while guiding it into her. I guess I had been too clumsy and she lost patience with me.)

I dropped my own hand and let him do his work. I just watched him manipulate my cock in a kind of hypnotized state. Eventually, I realized that another man was watching us and in fact standing beside us masturbating as he did so. My upbringing told me that I should have been embarrassed or shamed, but It felt so good that somehow I just didn't care.

The man was clearly staring at my cock, and the view of the trucker jerking me off was clearly exciting him more than the movie. Soon enough I found myself shocked again as he slid into the seat beside the trucker and took the truckers cock first in his hand, then very quickly into his mouth.

I took a minute to consider that I was getting a hand job from a middle-aged man who was getting a blow-job from another man. The very thought of what was going on triggered me. I started to cum -- my young dick pulsated in the trucker's hand.

The first shot of sperm must have rose two feet in the air. It kept coming, and quickly the truckers hand was swamped. I thought he'd be pissed but instead I got yet another shock as he leaned down and started licking the end of my dick. It was enough to almost drive me crazy.

He kept at it and soon enough I was hard yet again. (I was young.) He kept sucking at it felt very much like he was hungry for it. I like to think that my girlfriend had been having a good time when we took each other's virginity, but the passion that this man had for my cock was miles ahead of any kind of passion she and I had shared. I was quickly cumming yet again, and as I did his mouth clamped down on my cock as if to gather every bit of it.

There's a kind of trance you go into after a really good orgasm -- I'm sure we've all probably experienced it. (If not, I feel sorry for you.) I was in that trance. I wasn't aware of my surroundings. I was just trying to regain my sanity and my breath. I lost track of where I was and what was going on around me.

I didn't realize the trucker had stood up and was now standing in front of me -- or at least I didn't until his cock was in my face and he'd placed the tip of it to my mouth. I instinctively resisted, closed my mouth, and turned my head away.

He was not happy and let me know it. He grabbed my hair and pulled my face back to him.

"My turn."

I had watched several women perform oral sex on the screen in the last half hour, and so I knew what to do, but didn't want to do it. I also didn't feel like I had a choice. It didn't look painful, I feared there might be violence if I didn't play along, More than the fear I might get beaten up was the fear that my parents would get a call from the hospital telling them I had been beaten up in an adult theatre. So I opened my mouth and let him in.

He was quickly in the back of my throat and even though I was ready to suck him, he had already decided to fuck my face instead. He wasn't gentle at all and I will never be sure if his violence was borne of a need to get off or some rage that my reluctance had inspired. He lasted for just a very few minutes but it was hard on my throat and I choked more than once.

When he came, he was buried deep in my throat. I couldn't help it -- I was choking -- and when I coughed I spit him out. He continued spewing all over my face and front of my shirt. It felt so filthy and disgusting. I was just mortified. It was like someone had spit in my mouth and my face -- but had done it with the part of their body they pee with.

Or at least I told myself that, but my body betrayed me. As he grabbed me by the hair again and put himself back in my mouth until he was satiated, I realized I had a hard-on again.

A few more pumps and he went soft in my mouth, leaving himself limp on my tongue. I had a mouthful that I couldn't spit and didn't want to swallow. He looked down and I could tell he instantly understood my predicament.

"Go ahead and swallow it sissy," he said it with a taunt. Mr. Nice Trucker man had taken on a hard edge. I found myself frightened if not just a bit of a turned on.

I did as I was told as best I could, closing my mouth around him and opening my throat to swallow his load. When he was satisfied that I had followed his instructions, he slowly pulled out of my mouth and then rubbed his cock on my face a few times just to let me know who was boss.

When the trucker stepped away, I realized then that there was a small crowd of men standing around watching what was happening. All of them had their cocks out, some stroking themselves and others stroking each other.

I also realized that other than these men around me, the rest of the theatre had emptied. Innocent bystanders to what was going on had decided to make themselves scarce. The men around me were what remained and were enjoying watching what was happening to me. This, I realized, could go sideways very quick.

That was when another man stepped in front of me. This one older and larger -- I believed him to be a rancher perhaps based on his weathered appearance and clothing. His cock was bigger and thicker and framed by a wiry tuft of gray public hair. I had no illusions that I had any choice but to open my mouth and get to work.

Whereas the trucker had chosen to violate my mouth, the rancher instead chose to dominate me with vague humiliations, telling me what a good little cocksucker I was and how he knew how turned on I was sucking his dick. He did his best to cum slowly in dribbles and took several minutes to please.

Next was a man who had the relaxed look of a suburban dad. It didn't take long or make demands other than the service I knew was expected. I found myself pausing to understand and appreciate how the moves the movies had taught me led to my being able to please him. I licked the thick helmet of his cock head, sucked on is balls, and generally did my best to be good and be done with it. When he finished up no one else stepped forward so I thought perhaps it was all over.

I oddly felt proud of myself, knowing that it had been a job well done. Part of me even wondered if I could do better next time. Part of me couldn't believe the thoughts I was having and was embarrassed and humiliated.

Then two men picked me up and pulled my pants down, then attempted to bend me over the back of the seating. Their intention was obvious and terrifying. I had watched a woman being anally violated on the film screen -- and it had not looked pleasant at all. Her face told me it was painful and humiliating. I did not want this.

Something visceral rose up within me and I began to fight.

I would feel better saying that I punched someone or kicked someone else or otherwise defended myself, but in honesty I just wriggled and rolled and flailed. I must have looked like a child throwing a tantrum.

I do not think I overpowered those men around me -- or even made a convincing fight -- but perhaps just woke them up to the reality of what was going on and recognition that I was no longer a willing participant.

Free of their grasp I pulled up my pants and ran from the theatre, bursting out into the main bookstore with my pants undone and my clothing wet with other men's cum. I do not remember much of those moments except that the clerk laughed at me as I dashed by him.

I ran to my car and sped off, not stopping for many miles until I saw a rest stop sign. I realized I was still shaking and perhaps not in the best condition to drive.

Since leaving the adult store, I had been irrationally paranoid that I was being followed and so I pulled my car in between two large diesel rigs to hide myself. I shut down the engine then shut myself off mentally for a while -- just went into a kind of shock. When I regained my facilities, it might have been a few minutes or a few hours later.

I realized that my clothing was crusty as was my face and my body. Exiting the car I could not wait to rid myself of the shirt I was wearing and pulled it over my head, taking a moment to wipe my face with the interior of it before I tossed it on the ground.

I opened the trunk of my car and fumbled through my suitcase, finding a set of running clothes. The thick pants and sweatshirt that were inappropriate for August in the Nevada desert but I dropped my spattered jeans and stepped into the pants without thinking twice.

I was bare chested and wearing just the track suit bottoms when I looked up to to see that one of the drivers of the trucks around me was watching me with interest, and when he caught my eye he gave me a look that implied interest and also perhaps invitation.

He crawled up into this rig but did not make any attempt to drive off. I felt like he knew what I'd been up to and was inviting me into the truck to suck his cock.

I was further traumatized and of course did not do it. But I had to admit that a small part of myself felt the desire to crawl up there with him. His truck did not move and I just sat there for more than an hour in the late afternoon heat. Finally, I started the engine and drove away.

I made my way to the university with just one stop at a gas station to clean up and add fuel, and on that long drive and on many nights in the weeks that followed once I'd reached my destination, the activities in that theatre dominated my thoughts.

Even today I think about it and ask myself questions

Had I been raped? I have chosen to decide the answer is no. I blame passion and lust. Those men were in the moment as was I, and we all bore some responsibility if things got out of hand. Perhaps my own role had more to do with my ignorance of what those places could be like and how a young man like myself might be treated, but I was not innocent bystander in it all. At least at first. It's hard to say you have been forced to do anything when you know that you had an erection during the whole sex act.

Did I enjoy it? I would have to admit that yes, I did. I will also admit that I visited a few adult theatres in Southern California seeking something similar to the atmosphere of the isolated highway adult bookstore where I discovered my first taste for men. Ultimately, I found that lightning doesn't strike twice. The bookstores I found in LA all had small stalls for movies not the small private theatres were men could be men. Some of those stalls in the bookstores offered "glory holes" that would provide me with a taste of cock if I wanted it, but none of the animal lust and opportunity to be dominated that I had experienced that day in the Nevada desert.