The Virgin’s First Booth Experience

My first time. Not the one I imagined, not the one I’d once shared as a fantasy, but the raw, breathless reality of it all. It unfolded shortly after that other, almost-story, when I was twenty, a virgin, and utterly consumed by an innocent, yet potent, fascination with the female form.

The adult video store was a maze of dim lighting and hushed sounds. One section held a small theater with rows of seats, but my curiosity drew me to the video booths. They were arranged in clusters, some along the walls, others forming islands in the center of the room. Padded seats promised comfort, but the lack of doors was a startling, thrilling revelation.

You could see the screens of other guys, hear the muffled moans and gasps. Sometimes, if you dared to glance, you’d catch a glimpse of a hand moving rhythmically, a head lolling back. It was confusing, a little shocking, and undeniably, arousing.

I stood in a booth, tokens clutched in my hand, flipping through channels, searching for something to ignite the fire in my belly. A shadow fell across the doorway. A guy, tall and confident, stepped into my booth’s entrance. He glanced at the screen, then at me.

“Channel six has some fun videos,” he murmured, his voice low and even, before turning and walking away.

I was stunned, a jolt of electricity shooting through me. Fun videos? My fingers fumbled, finding the button for channel six. The screen flickered to life, showing three men in Navy uniforms, slowly, deliberately undressing each other.

A wave of revulsion, quickly followed by a strange heat, washed over me. Guys? I didn’t want to watch *guys* fucking. I could already hear the explicit sounds from the booth next to mine, the unmistakable rhythm of a man pleasuring himself. I stole a quick glance, and there he was, the guy from my doorway, now in the booth directly across, his gaze fixed on his screen, his hand working furiously. My eyes darted back to my own screen, and I hastily changed the channel.

My tokens spent, I stumbled out, blinking against the harsh afternoon sun in the parking lot. As I reached my car, I noticed the hood of the vehicle next to mine was up, a figure hunched over it. I walked closer, offering a hesitant, “Need a hand?”

He straightened, a sheepish grin on his face. “Dead battery,” he explained. “Got any cables?”

I shook my head. “No, but I could give you a ride home if you need.”

His smile widened. “Yeah, I’d appreciate that.” He closed the hood, stepping into the light. He extended a hand. “Kyle. Thanks for the ride.”

My breath hitched. It was him. The guy from the booth. A tremor of nerves shot through me. The whole interaction in the store had felt… odd. Was he hitting on me? No, no way. I wasn’t gay.

We settled into my car, and he gave me an address, a good twenty-minute drive away. During the ride, he asked about my job – delivery driver – and where I lived – La Mesa. He mentioned his condo in Hillcrest, that he lived alone. I confessed I was new to San Diego, still finding my footing, not really knowing anyone outside of work.

“Do you ever go out to clubs?” he asked.

“Not really,” I admitted. “Still figuring out what San Diego has to offer.”

He smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Oh, there’s a lot to offer, if you know where to look.”

We arrived in his neighborhood, and he directed me to park on the street. “I’ll just drop you off,” I said, already picturing my bed.

“Nonsense,” he countered. “You just drove me all this way. The least I can do is offer you a beer. I can tell you all about San Diego.”

It was still early, and honestly, I had no plans. A beer or two couldn’t hurt. “Okay,” I agreed, “a beer or two.”

He led me inside his condo. It was a cozy place: living room, kitchen, and dining area flowed together in the front, a hallway disappearing toward the back bedroom and bathroom. He grabbed two beers from the fridge, gesturing to the couch for me, then settling into an armchair across from it.

Small talk flowed easily, punctuated by the clink of refilled bottles. Eventually, he leaned forward. “Do you go to those theaters often?”

I chuckled, feeling a blush creep up my neck. “Coming from a small town, I’d never seen anything like it. Felt like a kid in a candy store.”

“Got a girlfriend?”

“No,” I mumbled.

“A virgin?”

The blush deepened. I nodded, admitting it. He rose, fetched two more beers, and this time, sat down right beside me on the couch. I scooted over, but the couch was small, offering little escape. I decided to finish my beer quickly, then make my exit. As I drained the last drops, I started to stand.

“Whoa!” My head spun, the room tilting precariously. Four beers on an empty stomach, at a stranger’s house, was definitely not my smartest move. I sank back down.

Kyle smiled, a warm, reassuring expression. “You can hang out until you’re good to drive.” His logic made perfect sense to my muddled brain.

He turned on the TV, and we watched the news drone to a close. He got up again, returning with two more beers. I think I’d completely forgotten my earlier intention to leave, accepting the cold bottle he offered as he sat down, truly next to me this time, our thighs brushing.

He picked up the remote. “Want to watch some videos?”

Unsure what kind of videos he meant, I just nodded. He pressed play, and the screen illuminated. It looked like a porno, but I wasn’t really focused. As the movie began, I felt Kyle’s arm slide around me, his body pressed against mine. He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear.

“Can I kiss you?”

I stammered, “I don’t think… I don’t think that’s what I want. I’m not gay.”

His voice was calm, almost philosophical. “How do you know if you haven’t tried it?”

Sound logic. He continued, “Just a kiss. See what you think.” He gently turned my head towards him, then leaned in, his lips soft on mine. It wasn’t bad. He tasted faintly of Budweiser, as I probably did too. He leaned in again, a slow, lingering kiss, and I felt his hand settle on my thigh.

As he pulled away, my eyes drifted to the screen. Two men in a restaurant, a waiter at their table. The waiter leaned over to place a napkin, and I saw him cup the visible bulge in one man’s pants. Kyle’s hand mimicked the gesture, cupping me in the same way. “Feels like you liked that kiss,” he murmured.

It was true. I was getting stiff.

Kyle shifted on the couch, untucking my shirt. His fingers brushed my skin as he pulled it up, exposing my belly, then my chest. He tugged it over my head, then leaned in, his lips finding my nipple. He kissed it, then gently took it between his teeth, a soft tug that made me gasp. A low moan escaped my throat. I’d never felt anything like it.

He looked up, then slowly moved to my other nipple, biting down with the same exquisite pressure. Grabbing my head, he turned it, kissing me harder this time, a deeper, more demanding press of his mouth. My hands felt useless, lost, so I instinctively brought them down to cover the undeniable bulge in my lap. Kyle reached down, his fingers firm as he moved my hands away, then began to rub my growing cock.

My belt buckle clicked open, then the top button of my pants. He pushed me back onto the couch, straddling my hips, then leaned down, tilting my head back for another searing kiss.

Suddenly, the room was filled with the explicit sounds of men fucking, loud and raw. Kyle, in his scramble, had found the TV volume control and cranked it to max. He fumbled for the remote, his eyes briefly meeting mine. On the screen, the restaurant scene had intensified. One man was on his back on the table, the taller one holding his legs high, thrusting in and out, the bottom man clinging to the table to keep from falling.

Kyle quickly turned the volume down, then turned back to me, pulling my head up to his. His tongue plunged into my mouth, a wild, seeking invasion. He caressed my head, leaning into me, grinding his hard cock against my chest. My hands, no longer covering myself, found his pants. I unzipped them, pulling them down over his hips. His cock, thick and bulging in his underwear, pressed against me, brushing up and down with each grind.

His kiss slowed, then he pulled back, looking into my eyes. “I thought you weren’t gay,” he whispered, a hint of a challenge in his voice. He stood, pulling me up from the couch with him. He stepped out of his pants, standing before me in just his shirt and underwear. Then, he dropped to his knees, finishing the job of unbuttoning my pants, pulling them and my underwear down, revealing my throbbing, growing cock.

He leaned in, his tongue darting out to lick the head, a quick, hot touch. He came up under my cock, resting it on his lips, his eyes meeting mine. “Let me show you.”

I watched his face, my own reaction a silent nod. He opened his mouth, and I felt the warm, wet engulfment as he took me in. Impulsively, perhaps mirroring the raw action on the TV behind him, I put my hands on the back of his head and pushed him deeper, further down my cock. I felt myself swell in his mouth, and he began to slide, slowly, deliciously, my dick in and out.

Wow. I’d seen it in videos, imagined it countless times, but Kyle’s warm, wet mouth, sliding up and down my dick, was beyond anything I’d ever conceived. He was a master, his head working with a practiced rhythm, his lips wrapping around the head, then back down the shaft. I felt his hand reach up, squeezing my balls, and a moan ripped from my throat as he continued to devour me.

He looked up, a sly smile on his face, licking his lips before returning to his task. I felt the familiar rush, the building pressure. I was going to cum. Too fast, I thought, this feels too good to end. I tried to pull back, but Kyle held firm, his tongue rubbing the sensitive underside. I was past the point of stopping. I moaned, pushing my dick deeper into his throat, spurting hot cum down into him. He moaned in return, burying his face in my pubic hair, desperate to keep every drop in his mouth. I felt him swallow, again and again, as I pumped a few more times.

Some cum spilled onto his lips as he finally pulled my dick out, licking it clean with a slow, deliberate sweep of his tongue. He let out a deep breath, then stood, pulling me tightly against him. His mouth found mine, his tongue probing, sharing the warm, salty taste of my own cum with me. It was primal, intimate, and a promise of more to come.

My eyes drifted to the screen. The two men in the restaurant were still at it. The tall one sat in a chair, legs together, his big cock thrust upwards, while the other faced away, guiding it into his ass, bouncing down with forceful precision. I looked back at Kyle, my own body still buzzing.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised, his voice a soft murmur against my ear. “You can have me stop any time you want.”

He spread a blanket on the couch, placing a pillow in the middle. Kyle led me to it, turning me around. He kissed me, then gently sat me down, telling me to lie back. He lifted my legs, positioning the pillow beneath me so my ass was raised, exposed. Reaching into a basket at the end of the couch, he produced a bottle and a packet of condoms. He uncapped the bottle, dribbling some slick liquid onto my exposed ass, his thumb rubbing it around my rim, then up and down the crack.

A little more lube on his fingers, and then, slowly, a single finger slid into my ass. I winced, a sharp, unfamiliar sensation. It was the first time anything had ever been there. But Kyle was slow, his finger rocking back and forth gently, his thumb circling my asshole. After a couple of minutes, he pulled his fingers back, reaching for the condoms. I glanced at the TV again. The men had changed positions, the one being fucked now bent over the table, his partner pounding into him with increasing intensity. I looked at Kyle, a question in my eyes.

He shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. “That won’t be your experience. Not tonight.”

With the condom now a slick second skin, Kyle’s fingers returned to my opening. One slid inside, a warm, searching probe, while the other danced a teasing circle around the rim. He worked me for a few exquisite minutes, stretching and preparing, until the blunt, heavy head of his cock replaced his finger, pressing against my eager flesh.

I met his gaze, a silent question in my eyes, and offered a small, affirmative nod. I was ready. My body hummed with anticipation, aching for the full invasion.

He shifted, lifting my hips just slightly, and then, with a slow, deliberate push, he began to slide into me. It wasn’t a full plunge, just enough. A thick, insistent presence filled me, a promise of what was to come. I felt the stretch, the first delicious pressure.

I nodded again, urging him deeper. He obliged, inching further, eliciting a soft whimper from my throat. He paused, a flicker of concern in his eyes, and started to withdraw. But I wasn’t done. I shook my head, a desperate plea, and he understood, pushing back in, a little more, then a little more.

I felt the soft brush of his balls against my ass as he leaned into me, driving himself in until I was completely, gloriously full. Then, with agonizing slowness, he began to pull back, his eyes locked on mine. A long, guttural moan escaped me as his cock finally popped free, wet and glistening.

He didn’t let me go for long. Slowly, he re-entered, then shifted, spreading my legs wider. He placed one foot on each of my shoulders, using my thighs to anchor himself, his hands gripping my hips. With a firm, stable base, he began to move, a rhythmic in-and-out that quickly picked up pace.

I watched his face, taut with concentration, as he controlled every thrust, every withdrawal. He was orchestrating my pleasure, making sure I savored each moment. I had no idea of his size, but it felt like eight inches or more of hard, unyielding cock were pumping deep within me, filling me completely.

He spread my legs even wider, leaning down to whisper in my ear, his voice rough with desire.

“Your ass feels so goddamn tight.”

I smiled up at him, my own voice a breathless rasp.

“Your cock is so goddamn big.”

He answered by driving deeper, a primal grunt rumbling in his chest.

He continued to fuck me on my back for a while, the rhythm intoxicating, until he suddenly stopped. His gaze flickered to the screen above us, then back to me.

“Want to try that?” he asked, a suggestive glint in his eyes.

I looked up. The figures on the screen were in a deep, pounding doggy style. As Kyle pulled out of me, I rolled over without a second thought, dropping to my hands and knees, my ass rising invitingly into the air.

He stood over me, his magnificent dick poised above my hole. He slid in, perhaps a little quicker than intended, and I gasped, a sharp intake of breath. He started to pull back, but I instinctively pushed my ass up, keeping him buried deep. He quickly repositioned himself, settling into a rhythm that allowed him to move freely, without needing to hold me.

This felt different. Deeper. More primal. The new angle seemed to energize him, and he picked up the pace, driving into me with short, powerful bursts, then long, deep thrusts that bottomed out inside me. I felt the hot drip of his sweat on my back, heard his breathing grow ragged, sharp gasps escaping his lips.

My arms, unaccustomed to the strain, gave out beneath me, and I collapsed, face down onto the carpet. In the heat of the moment, Kyle seemed to forget this was my first time. He took my collapse as a signal, a surrender, and began to pump into me with renewed ferocity, deeper, harder, his balls slamming against my ass with each powerful stroke.

With a sudden, guttural groan, he slammed deep, a final, intense thrust. I moaned loudly in response, and he slammed again, and again, and again, each impact eliciting a groan or grunt from my raw throat. Finally, I felt his arms lock onto my shoulders, pushing my body flat to the floor. He arched his back, driving his cock to its absolute limit, a deep, primal groan tearing from his chest. Then, he stopped. His cock pulsed inside me, a vibrant, living thing, before slowly, reluctantly, beginning to pull out.

He rolled off me, onto the floor beside me. His eyes fell on my face, still pressed into the carpet, and a look of dawning realization crossed his features. He’d pushed me hard.

I felt his warm breath on my neck as he leaned over, gently wiping a bead of sweat from my temple. I rolled onto my back, looking at his glistening, naked body, still flushed from exertion. I placed a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath my palm. My gaze drifted down to his cock, now soft and drooping, a testament to the workout it had just endured.

I reached down, brushing a single drop of cum from the tip of his dick, then leaned into him, savoring the warmth of his body as we lay there, spent and sweating.

And that was my first time.