Urban Myth

I think of myself as a normal girl, which means that sometimes I want to be alone. Sometimes I want to be lost in an anonymous crowd. Sometimes I want a relationship or to be with my friends. And occasionally I feel the need to be depraved and have guilt free sex. But until now, this last urge had remained unsatisfied.

Almost a year ago I happened to see a bit of graffiti. I was in a cubicle at one of the local pubs that had live groups playing. It was more of a club really, seeing as how blokes had to pay at the door, but the booze was cheap and plentiful. And the music was loud.

I had gone with a group of friends celebrating a hen night, and it was a very good evening. I was pleased for the girl whose marriage we were celebrating, and the tinge of jealousy that there was nobody on the horizon for me was reasonably well hidden. For this evening, at least, I wasn’t feeling the lack of a man.

Eventually, I needed to pee, as my bladder was full to bursting. So I visited the ladies, and whilst I was doing the necessary, I saw this snippet of graffiti for the first time. There was nothing lurid about it. There were no graphic drawings or swear words. It was just a statement written on the inside of the door, deeply etched in the veneer, in black pen. “At the gallery, I had my turn in the barrel, and it was the best sex I ever had”

It might not sound particularly attention grabbing, and for all I know, it had been there for a while without my taking any notice of it, but for some reason, on that particular night, it registered, and more than that it intrigued me. I have to admit, that in my lonely bed that night, or to be more accurate, on my friend’s couch, I had a mild sexual fantasy about it.

I saw sailors, in bellbottoms, and striped shirts using a barrel’s bung hole for the weirdest reasons. But I was too comfortable to do much more than stroke myself a few times, and I fell asleep with my hand on my crotch.

But after that it seemed as if I saw that piece of graffiti, or something like it, almost everywhere I went. It was not always a gallery, sometimes it was an exhibition, a museum or a show, but the barrel was always mentioned. And there was always the discreet fact that it was great sex.

It was if they didn’t need to add pornographic detail. I got the impression that it was not so much an invitation, more a statement. Whoever had written it, and there were many different writing styles, when they had their turn in the barrel, it satisfied them to the extent that they felt the need to immortalise the experience. But they didn’t want to cheapen it, or encourage others. They just needed to acclaim to the world, that they were part of the exclusive club that had, had their turn in the barrel. And I envied them. I wanted the same.

But as far as I was aware there were no galleries, exhibition halls or theatres in the vicinity.

However, I discovered to my surprise that I was wrong. Where I lived was not a cultural metropolis, but there were a couple of private galleries and even a municipal exhibition hall. And it was surprising the number of buildings that regularly hosted amateur dramatic productions, or even the occasional professional touring group.

So I started attending that kind of place. I didn’t become obsessive about it, partially because a lot of the art or exhibitions I saw, I didn’t like, and frankly most of the am/dram shows were embarrassingly painful. But, mainly because I didn’t know what I was looking for.

It was a warm summer’s evening that I attended the Alhandro art gallery. I had seen other shows advertised for this place, but I had never gone before, because I knew that the exhibition would not be to my taste. This one however looked interesting.

Before the graffiti, and I was still seeing new examples of it, I knew nothing about art. But my search had taken me to places I didn’t know existed. I had even got books out of the library. So by this time, I was a discerning audience. Already the graffiti, had enhanced my life, by giving me an abiding love of some art forms.

One of the styles I particularly liked was the complicated moralistic paintings of heyromonius bosch. He painted sin, depravity, torture and repayment. And he packed so much into his paintings that you could stand in front of one for an hour and not see all it had to show.

He was just one of a group of painters that used that style, and to my shame, a couple of months ago, I had actually travelled to the city for the experience of seeing some of his paintings in real life. It sounds weak and arty to say that I lost track of time, but that’s what happened.

I went into the chamber where he and some of his peers were exhibiting at just after two, in the afternoon, and the next thing I was aware of was, it was closing time, and I had only seen three, out of the score or so, paintings on display.

That was an anecdote I never told anyone, not even my closest friends, or current boyfriend. I don’t know why I was ashamed of it, but I was.

So anyway I had a passion for his style of painting, and the Alhandro was showing a young artist who reportedly painted in something like his style. So I was looking forward to it.

And I was not disappointed.

The artist had filled huge canvases with hundreds if not thousands of images, crowded together. It was like a montage in oils.

In one corner may be a naked woman, lying on a bed of fresh cut long stemmed flowers, but her feet would be obscured by a separate image of an owl, holding a jewel encrusted cross in it’s beak. Who in turn had its bottom half covered by a rampant penis, with a nail passing through its girth.

It sounds like a mess, but in truth, it was a powerful depiction of the artist’s dreams and nightmares. All told, he must have been a complicated person. And after looking at the first painting for almost an hour, I had an earnest desire to meet him.

He had twelve canvases on show, but I had learnt from earlier mistakes, and so took a quick tour of all of them, before returning to the one that I thought might be my favourite.

After I started looking at the second one in detail, I realised that I preferred it to the first. But after another hour when I moved on to the third, that became my favourite. This wasn’t the opening night so there were no waiters distributing drinks and canapés, but there were also no dignitaries forcing their way to the centre of attention, however there were a surprising number of people present.

Even though the gallery was devoted to his work, the centrepiece was not one of his pieces, but a giant five foot plasma screen. And it was not even switched on. I reckoned that it was used at openings for some kind of video presentation. It was not used for the hoi polloi that went on any other nights.

I had drank a few soft drinks during the day to cool myself down, and as I had come straight from work, after three hours I felt the need to pee, so before looking at the fourth, and what on a slightly closer examination looked as if it could exceed the first three, I searched out the toilets.

It was one of those ultra modern unisex places, with no urinals, just a row of hand basins, a mirror and a bank of three cubicles. The doors of the outer two were only just ajar, but the middle door was wide open, and so I entered.

Immediately in front of me, above the bowl was a sign telling me to close and lock the door. As if I needed any reminding.

I then sat and enjoyed a luxuriant piss. After wiping I noticed that the inside of the door was covered with photographs.

Each photo was behind glass, and the whole was enclosed in a frame that blended almost invisibly with the door. Under the frame was a weak light, that shone from behind the pictures. Without the light it would have been impossible to see what the pictures were of. And with the light it was so difficult that I had to get closer to see the detail.

Each picture was either of a phallus or a cunt. A lot of the cocks were erect. A couple were flaccid. One or two were spurting. Others had cum trickling down the head. Some of the twats were shaven, other had Brazilians, yet more were in their full unashamed glory. More than a couple, showed fingers holding the labia apart.

I had stood whilst pulling up my knickers to get a closer look, and I have to admit that the unexpectedness of the pornographic photo gallery, plus of course, its content was making me a bit excited.

Interspersed with the dicks and the twats were the occasional arsehole, and from the looks of them, they were of mixed sex, and most of them had been freshly invaded.

The centre piece was set to an angle and so I was forced to move, until my back was almost touching one of the partitions between cubicles, to see it face on. It was a holographic image, made up of little squares that showed a semi erect penis, but if I moved my head slightly, the image changed, the prick grew and it began ejaculating.

I had worn a short skirt and blouse to work that day, and I was still wearing them. Without much conscious volition on my part I lowered my hand, raised my skirt and started to stroke my pussy through my nylon panties. I had never masturbated in a public place before, and I don’t know if I intended to them, because as soon as my fingers found my damp crotch, I heard a noise from the cubicle behind me.

I dropped my hand, letting my skirt fall and stood away from the wall in embarrassment. When I came in, I had noticed what I thought were black circles painted on the walls, but now that I looked closer, I could see that they were actually holes, with what looked like felt curtains behind them.

As I looked, I could see the material being pulled aside. Light from the next door cubicle shone through. I could just make out shapes and shadows in the adjoining space, so I leaned closer, and put my eye to the most convenient hole.

My view was restricted by the diameter of the hole, but inches from the other side was a mouth sucking on a penis. How they had got up to the height of my eyehole, I didn’t know or care.

I was fascinated by the thick cock, sliding into the open mouth. I could see the cheeks indent, as they sucked. I was not even sure if the face belonged to a woman, or a youthful man. It was incredibly erotic watching whoever it was on the other side of the wall get face-fucked, and automatically I started stroking myself again.

I could hear grunts and gasps, as the movement in the adjoining cubicle got faster. I wasn’t satisfied with touching myself through the material, so I slipped my hand beneath the material. Better to feel my wet cunny.

I was fingering myself violently but I could feel the elastic of my waistband biting into the back of my hand. The action I was watching appeared to have settled down into a rhythm, the prick travelling forwards and back in short strokes, whilst the mouth grabbed and sucked with vigour, so I estimated that I had a couple of seconds to ease my discomfort.

I was leaning at an angle to get my eye in line with the hole, therefore it was easier to turn around whilst I quickly lowered my knickers to my ankles. I was about to reposition myself to continue my voyeuristic experience, when I realised that there was a huge black erection, sticking through a hole in the wall opposite me.

Behind me, somebody was getting a blow job, and in front of me somebody had stuck his prick through into my cubicle.

It was large. Maybe the biggest I had ever seen. I could see the veins prominent on the shaft, and the reddish, pink bell end inviting me closer.

I had to lean over to get to a level with it, and as I did, it withdrew slightly before being thrust forward again. My mouth watered, and my cunt almost gushed. I couldn’t do what I was thinking about doing, But I did.

I slowly advanced towards the member, and brushed it with my lips. It jolted as if it had received an electric shock, but then it appeared to be pressed even further into my cubicle. I could see wiry, black pubic hairs pressed against the inside wall of his cubicle, through the hole. I could see the bushy folds of skin that marked the beginning of his balls.

I stuck out my tongue, and touched the stranger’s helmet. I traced a figure of eight around his hole, before trying to insert the tip of my tongue into it. The prick was so big, that I thought that I could actually feel the hollow as my tongue traced the slit in his cock end.

I allowed my tongue to slide around his knob, and by inclining my head, I could run it down his length, until it almost touched the wall. I painted the whole of his prick with my saliva as my head moved around the invasive object. I then manoeuvred myself so I was completely facing him, and withdrew my head a little way. This caused his tool to be thrust with even more force against his side of the wall.

Eventually, by scrunching my neck I positioned myself a fraction of an inch from the end of his prominence, and I started to straighten myself, allowing my lips to encircle his girth, and suck in his aching prick. But before I could take him completely into my mouth, I felt something scratch lightly against my pussy hair, and I withdrew so I could look down.

Resting against the underside of my quim, was another cock. It had been shoved through another hole. I took the black boner into my mouth again, as I considered my options.

His manhood was filling my mouth, as I moved my head gently forwards and back, but I imagined that I could feel droplets of my juices dropping from my yearning cunt onto the cock that was brushing against it, so insistently. I could feel it trying to find its way into my slit. Blindly exploring my nether regions.

I removed my head again, and looked down at the wall behind me, through my astride legs. I could see that there were two platforms a few inches above the floor that I could stand on, and make my position more convenient for access. I raised myself, and as I did I could feel the dick between my legs spring upwards.

It caressed my twat, and lightly penetrated my cunt lips. I knew that it was now possible for it to gain good entry to my eager orifice. I wiggled my backside against the cubicle wall, in what I hoped was an inviting manner, and returned my attention to the prick in front of my face.

I started to suck it again, but almost immediately stopped, as I felt something else between my legs. Beneath the cock that was trying to fuck me, whoever was in the adjoining cubicle had stuck something else through the pear shaped hole beneath his prick. It was longish and rough, I later discovered that it was a rubber dildo, with hard rubber blisters. When it was thrust through the hole, it started to perform its duty of massaging my clitoris.

Which was already swollen, and more than ready.

I jumped with ecstasy when it started to rub against me, and the prick that I was sucking was swallowed deeper into my mouth. I started pulling with my mouth, with a violence and eagerness that I didn’t knew I possessed. Taking more and more of the giant length into me. But it was awkward and not entirely satisfactory.

But then I was entered by the prick behind me, and I could feel the length of it sliding over my cunt lips and into my hole. I pressed backwards as it journeyed within me. The clitoral stimulation continued unabated, and I really began to enjoy it.

As if reading my mind, the man, face-fucking me, started to take the initiative, withdrawing a little and then thrusting forward. I sucked harder, and opened my mouth wider to accept more and more of it. Meantimes the cock that was fucking me was thrusting deeper and more forcibly into my cunt. It was repeatedly slamming into me, and I imagined that I could hear his balls slapping against his side of the cubicle wall.

I was breathing heavily and gasping, and was finding it difficult to close my mouth around the prick in it. Groans and gasps were escaping around the shaft, as I neared orgasm, but then I felt what I thought was a slimy stick slap my arse, through another hole.

I wasn’t being smacked, and I soon realised that it was another cock, trying to find another means of entry into my body. I felt it slide between my bum cheeks to my anus. I had never been sodomised before, but the insistence of the prick in my mouth, and the one in my cunt forced everything else out of my head apart from my own pleasure.

The cock trying to enter my back passage stopped momentarily as it pushed at the tight and resistant hole, and then with a powerful thrust it entered. It was well vaselined and greasy, and so it slid in easily.

Before I knew it I was being fucked, face-fucked and arse-fucked. And I was loving it. It was the best sex I had ever had. The three pricks had forced me around until my mouth was almost pressed against one partition, and my rear end was touching the other.

My clit was being massaged vigorously and expertly, and the two cocks to the rear were punching into me with great strength and determination. Also the prick in my mouth was moving into it with greater determination and speed.

Physically, I wasn’t suspended on the three cocks, but that’s what it felt like. All three unknown men were thrusting into me with abandon, and I could feel my orgasm rise within me. I was already gasping and groaning, but now I started panting and sighing noisily. Even my quim was making noises as my juices were compressed, and I was aware of the slurping sounds coming from there.

As the prick at my front end was thrust forward, driving its way into my mouth and throat, I was forced backwards, only to feel the cock up my arse go deeper into me, and then I would be slammed forward as the dick fucking me reached the end of its forward lunge.

I felt a bit unsteady, and so to settle myself I reached my hands out to the partition wall in front of me. Whoever had designed this cubicle had done their job well. There were two metal handles attached to the wall, which I grabbed eagerly.

I could now use my arms to throw myself into my work. I pulled forward when I felt that my mouth fucker was near the end of his thrust, I pushed back to accommodate the two behind me. After a couple of strokes we had perfected the routine, and our movements were co-ordinated. My mouth had never been penetrated so fully or so deeply. And neither had my cunt. And as I said earlier, I was an arsehole virgin.

However it was impossible to keep up this level of sensation for much longer, and all four of us felt the same, so we increased our efforts.

I was shouting through my blocked mouth, but I felt the moment when the black dick exploded. I remembered myself enough to close my lips and start to suck forcibly, as I attempted to drain the last the last drops of his cum from him. But then I felt the prick in my arse, strain deeper and further than it had achieved before. It lunged and stayed for a second, and I swear I could feel it pumping out it’s spunk inside me. But at this point, I lost it.

My control left me and I wallowed in the most glorious orgasm I had ever experienced. I felt my vagina muscles contract and grab the cock inside it, as waves of pleasure overtook me. I cunt-fucked the prick. Flexing and releasing my muscles for as long as the throes of my orgasm lasted, and then when I thought that it had passed, the prick in my quim, thrust itself forward, impaling me even harder. My mouth was actually pressed against the wooden wall, as I felt him shoot his load inside me.

Then reaction set in, and my legs began to feel weak. I had been thrusting and pulling with my arms, and they felt strained. My arsehole was tingling with satisfaction and a little discomfort. My cunt was wet, and seemingly bruised, and the motion on my clitoris was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. I could taste salty cum in my mouth and wanted to rinse, or at least spit.