Brett turns off the engine and releases a deep breathe. Cold rain beats heavily on the windshield, and without the constant breath of the defroster, the windows have already started to fog.
The interior of the car is bathed in neon red light from the sign above the storefront. It flashes “Adult Arcade” incessantly.
It’s really come to this. Brett thinks back on his last three years at college. Mediocre grades. Unlucky in love to the say the least. Now with finals looming, he was as stressed as he’d ever been.
A friend had suggested a “Night at the Arcade” to unwind. It was a common phrase around the dorms and frat houses of VSU. Even Brett, who’d never been, knew that it had become infamous as a haven for no-string-attached release.
“Booth #1”, his friend had said with a knowing wink.
Brett takes the keys from the ignition and hurries towards the door, managing to get soaked in the process. An electronic chime announces his entry.
The room is bathed in harsh fluorescent lighting and covered wall-to-wall with dingy grey, high-traffic carpeting. Brett tries not to think about what the misshapen stains are. From behind the counter a middle aged clerk gives him a smile and a nod.
“Good night for it, huh?”
“Sorry?” Brett asks, uncomfortable to say the least.
“No line.” The clerk nods towards the back of the store where a small blue corrugated plastic sign with white lettering hangs over a black doorway. The letters spell out “Arcade $20”.
Brett gives a laugh, trying to act like he belongs here.
“Oh, right.”
He debates spending some time in this room first. With hands in his coat pockets, he walks slowly down a row of magazines and plastic DVD cases. The titles shock him. *Cum Guzzlers 7*. *Ass Girls R Us*. *Just 18 Schoolgirls – 5*.
Brett’s amazed at the variety on display, and the lewdness of the covers. Girls bending over or on their knees, often naked or in panties only. Who are the girls in these movies? And did *Cum Guzzlers 1* really warrant so many sequels?
A man emerges from the Arcade, zipping up his jeans and heading to the counter. In loud discussion with the clerk, he hands over some money and says he hasn’t cum that much in years.
Brett decides it’s now or never. Using the distraction, he hurries down the next aisle and pushes past the black curtain covering the doorway to the Arcade.
He finds himself in a dark hallway extending to his right. The floor is sticky and black light provides the only illumination. A series of stalls line the left hand side, several with doors ajar.
The numbers start at 11 and decrease down the hall, so Brett has a long, sticky walk to the far end. A white number 1 glows in the black light. Below it shines a small green light.
Brett looks down the hall, sees no one, and steps inside.
The booth is spartan. Press board walls painted black. The same dingy grey carpet from the main store but with many more stains. On the far wall, a video monitor is playing a loop of pornography. At the moment, a buxom brunette is receiving an injection of at least 8-inches of dick, delivered anally. But Brett doesn’t notice, because just after closing and sliding the barrel lock shut, Brett realizes he isn’t alone.
Looking into a small compact mirror, a girl is dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a paper towel. Beside her is a small makeup bag, a trash can with crumpled paper towels and at least two more untouched rolls. She’s also completely naked.
“Oh, God. Sorry.” Brett steps back with surprise, and the girl looks up smiling.
Time seems to freeze as Brett realizes several things at once. First, she’s not here by accident. Of course this is why Booth 1 has such a reputation. The second thought is that Brett can get his cock drained by a beautiful girl for only $20, which sends a surge of blood to his manhood. And third, Brett knows her.
“Emily?”
Emily Northam, Freshman in the Poli Sci Dept at VSU. And through the University mentor program, Brett’s mentee.
“Wait, Brett? Oh My God! I can’t believe you came to see me!”
Brett’s hand is already on the barrel lock, trying to open the door. His hands have gone stupid though, and he’s mainly rattling the bolt, kicking the door and cursing.
“Wait, what are you doing? Aren’t you here to get your dick sucked?”
Brett stops moving. Turns slowly. See Emily standing naked, looking confused.
“You mean…I just thought, you know. You know me. You wouldn’t…want to.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t care about that.” She actually laughs.
“Look,” She steps closer, hands open to explain. Brett’s back is against the door. She stops, puts her hands up in defeat.
“Just listen, ok? I make a lot of money here. I mean, A LOT of money. You’re probably the tenth guy tonight, and this is the slowest night ever. And don’t think about trying to save the poor prostitute or anything. I really love doing this. An ex-boyfriend brought me here first semester, and I ended up doing kind of a group thing. It went great and the owner asked if I would make it a regular thing, split the profits. I’ve been doing it ever since. I’ve probably blown half the guys at schools. Hell, Dean Blevins? Total ass eating fetish. Licks my butthole for ten minutes and then cums on my face. 7:30, Friday Night. Like clockwork.”
Brett’s struggling to put it altogether. It’s a shock to his system to say the least. On one shoulder, a meek little angel is telling him to take this poor little girl home and try to make her safe. On the other, a rather randy red fellow is screaming, “She’s literally asking for it and you’re balls are blue enough for Picasso to paint with”. The erection tenting his jeans is more than enough to decide who wins.
“Honestly, I’m surprised I hadn’t seen you here before. I thought you were gay or something. All those mentorship dinners, I kept waiting for you to make a move. I would have let you fuck me for free. You know, friends and family discount. How about it? Want me to take care of you now?”
Brett can only let out an uncertain, “Yes?”
And with that, the practiced professional goes to work. She’s already unzipped his pants and pulled his cock free before he realizes she’s moved.
“Oh my,” she whispers coyly, giving Brett’s ego a much needed boost.
Her hand travels up and down, sizing him up nicely. She squeezes him in her small hand, releases and trails her fingers up and down. Smiling and keeping her gaze locked with his, she drops to her knees.
With not a moment’s hesitation, his entire shaft disappears down her throat. To say that Brett is in disbelief would be an understatement of monumental proportions. This sweet freshman just swallowed his entire cock like it was nothing, and it’s the best thing that Brett’s ever felt.
He has to lean back against the wall for support. Emily’s bright red lips slide up and down his shaft, pausing to lock behind the head and suck playfully. Gripping him by the base of his shaft, she pulls free with an audible pop.
“I bet no one has ever sucked your cock like this before have they?”
She slaps his spit slick cock against her cheeks and lips, smearing her recently fresh makeup in the process. Brett shakes his head in the universal “No, but I’m afraid to say anything for fear of ending this dream and waking up alone in bed with spermy sheets.”
Another laugh from Emily. “You’re cute.”
She dives in deep, lifting his cock above her face, stroking him roughly and finding his balls with her tongue. Emily can tell how pent up Brett is. His knees are literally shaking, and his hands in her hair are tentative and scared, as though he’ll be too rough with her.
*As if,* She thinks. At least 12 loads from the other 9 men tonight are either drying on a paper towel in the trashcan right now or still somewhere in her body. The grizzled old trucker that had spent himself in her ass had been rough. His 9-inch crooked cock had blown so deep inside her, she’d likely be leaking for hours. But this…this was almost romantic by comparison.
She pulls back again, lipstick now sufficiently smeared. “Want to fuck my throat?”
Again lacking words, Brett nods. He’d never been asked that question before, but heaven help him is he was going to look that particular gift horse in the mouth.
Emily is already in position, hands reaching around his legs to grip the backs of his thighs. He moves slowly at first, inching in and out. Then Emily’s hands tighten, and she plunges herself forward, lips sealed around the base of his shaft.
“It’s okay,” She tries to say, giving him clearance to have his way with her. Of course, Brett only hears, “Mm mmmph”.
But he takes the point anyway. His strokes aren’t so short now or so slow. He’s picking up speed. Slamming his cock entirely down the throat of this sweet, college freshman. Fucking the throat of this cum whore. Ruining this slut with his big hard cock.
Brett explodes down Emily’s throat with no more warning than a loud groan and the swelling in his shaft, but Emily recognizes the signs by now. She doesn’t have to swallow at all on the first blast because his head is already down her throat. But as he strokes himself to completion with her face, his load spills over her tongue and she greedily gulps it down.
His cock falls free as Brett gives a loud sigh. Pounds of weight have melted off his shoulders, and now he knows where to find the best blow off valve in town.
He opens his eyes to find Emily smiling, mascara blurry at the corners of her eyes and his cum dripping down her chin. A thin thread of saliva and spunk glistens from his cockhead to her bottom lip. It’s beautiful, and he wishes he could take a picture.
*Oh yeah, she’s a cum dumpster* he remembers, reaching down to fish his phone from his pocket and snap a few choice angles. Emily beams.
As he tucks himself away, he’s not sure what to say.
“Thanks, I guess. That was…fucking amazing.”
“Yeah, anytime. I’m here a few nights a week, but you’ve got my number. You know I fuck, too.”
She’s facing the back wall, reaching down for more paper towels and makeup when she says it, so she doesn’t see Brett’s eyes go wide.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
He’s going back down the hallway now, pushing past the curtain. It’s only been 15 minutes, but the rain has stopped and a few more people have come into the store. He stops at the counter to pass his $20 to the clerk, who presses some buttons on the register with a smile.
“She’s something, huh? Best pussy I’ve ever had.”
“Yeah, me too.” Brett says, never having been taught the proper social rules for this particular situation.
He sees a pair older biker types eyeing the arcade door. A balding middle-aged man in a polo and a few college frat boys look like they’re jockeying for position, too.
It’s going to be a busy night in Booth 1.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/9iwmgv/the_arcade_mf_oral_prostitution