Theater Wives/Whores

This is a poor video of a GH girl but it's still hot.


https://www.cuckoldplace.com/files/videos/ghdanielle.wmv

Here is another video of tame girl in a theater


https://www.cuckoldplace.com/files/videos/thdanielle.wmv

Hi its not a theater wife in this vid but i think it fits the bill

It a wife at a truckstop
this wife takeing some guys, listen to all the people beeping there car horns and yelling out, i think this vid although not a theater wife is still along this topic and not a bad vid 2 boot
Enjoy
http://youcuck.com/videos/shared-wife-on-truck-stop/

OK, who ordered up a wet theater whore? Here is a very wet one! Enjoy


https://www.cuckoldplace.com/files/videos/wet_theater_blond.wmv

OOPS! I labeled and uploaded the wrong file in the last post. Here is the wet theater whore.


https://www.cuckoldplace.com/files/videos/wet_theater_blond2.wmv

The wife at the truck stop vid just proves that there are countless places with countless men ready, able and willing to fuck some other guy's wife.

I heard a few words in Spanish. Could this "Please Fuck My Wife" party have happened down Mexico way? If so, I am surprised that every male capable of breeding a female within a 50 mile radius, wasn't drawn to this bitch's scent. Or maybe they were?
A man has not lived until he watches another man fuck his wife!

dogging is my second favorite after theaters and gloryholes. thanks for the clip. here is a girl that gets him off then friggs herself off. I need to find someone who can suck like this in northeastern NC or vicinity. Anyone? Anyone?


https://www.cuckoldplace.com/files/videos/booth_girl_sucks_and_frigs.wm v

Robbie

THANKS! hot stuff. btw, what's dogging?

Dogging is going to a park or other public place to meet either prearranged sex partners or take on whoever is there. Mostly it is setup before hand in a place that will be safe from involvement from the Law.

I'm going to go in a different format for a little while. I met a woman on a yahoo group that appeared to be a regular in adult theaters and swing clubs. She was intriguing at the least! She has a sordid past, which you will soon read, that steered her in this direction. Some my find it disturbing but then some will find everyone's past sordid in some way if we strayed from the straight and narrow. Read it at your own risk of being offended and/or thrilled nut hear what she has to say before jumping to any conclusions. As for me, I have my own skeletons that aren't ready to come out so I thank her for being so frank in her autobiography. In the end, I think I learned a little better what makes ME tick in my own perverted way. Maybe you will too.

Her name is Amber and she has allowed me to share her unedited autobiography and for those that are interested, her email address. She is a frequent Sunday visitor to an adult theater and was going out to a swing club tonight with hubby. They have a swingers relationship rather than a cuckold one and for that reamister, she doesn't feel she necessarily belongs here. I disagree. She will be reading the thread as I post the segments and I'm sure she'll be interested in your comments. Who knows, maybe you all could encourage her to join if you feel she has something to contribute here. Enjoy.
36530

Amber's Biography (1)

I was asked by a member of this group to submit my sexual autobiography. I am an old lady with
a rich sexual history, and I am one of the “regulars” at the adult theaters and sex clubs of Toronto
and in the Buffalo area. Adult theaters offer a unique type of sexual intensity that comes from the
depermisteralization and just plain sleaziness of passively submitting your biology to the darkness
while an unknown number of Earth's most desperate lurk in the void for that fleeting moment of
taboo paradise at your backside. "Wow", you say, "she sounds so philosophical about a quickie
poke in the dark". Well, yes, mystery inspires philosophy. My inspiration is a mystery that
captivated a young girl at a time when the world was changing faster than ever before. A girl
being brought up by a single parent, a have addicted hippie whose brain was too distracted to be
a lady. A girl rendered insignificant by a life void of love and emotion in a world that craved
significance. A girl left to roam her neighborhood, her mind eager to absorb the remarkable social
change of the mid 1960s in a quest to find her own significance, but unequipped to handle the
choices facing her.
And one of the choices she made was to allow her body to be used as a sex toy for an
intellectually challenged 33 year old man powerd to be a virgin through his own social ineptitude
and physical unattractiveness. An unfortunate soul filled with decades of torturous sexual torment
that could only be drained by the wrongness of the ultimate taboo. The ultimate taboo that
happened upon him in the form of a six year old girl unlike all the others, for she was void of
sense, disregarding of consequence, and absent of guidance from a lady submerged in the
depravity of have addiction. So day after day she took her biology to a place where no one would
see, no one would care, a world away from the world. A place filled with darkness where they
were guaranteed the privacy his indulgence demanded. There she laid perfectly still and
detached her mind from her body to render meaningless the physical discomfort. And, for a few
fleeting moments, she became the most important, the most powerful, the most significant entity
in the universe, as she watched her now inanimate form send this man to a paradise that cannot
be described by language.
I speak of her in third permister because it still seems so surreal to know that girl was me. Today I
am a 49 year old woman recently retired from a successful career, with a wonderful family, great
friends, and a wickedly thrilling sex life. But back then I lived to be a pedophile's wet dream come
true. A chubby, curvy, pretty, quiet six year old girl with soft flesh, silky skin, and the unique ability
to dissociate from a world I didn't understand whenever it was necessary to do so. To become an
object in which a ***d man can drain a lifetime of pent up desperation literally into my guts,
then scamper off and continue my day almost amnesic, like nothing happened.
But despite the almost comatose appearance of my physical form during those episodes, I wasn't
amnesic. I remember every millisecond of every event burned in my memory forever. And what I
remember the most was what gave me the greatest feeling of power and significance - an
inexplicable tug-of-war foisted on him by a mystery for which I had no words. I could sense that
tug-of-war in the fiber of his spirit. One part of him reached hard for that piece of paradise and
found it in every part of my being, from the simple feel of my skin and the warmth of the red
cursing under it, to the mysterious potency of the organs inside me. Even the sight of my head
cocked to the side with my eyes staring blankly into oblivion, and the availability that stare
promised him. That part of him wanted this heaven more than life itself, and ordered him to
steamroller towards it. But another part of him begged him to avoid the satiation with which it
always came. Like Ulysses tied to the mast so he would not succumb to the Sirens’ misterg he
craved to hear.
I was solely responsible for that tug-of-war, and somehow I strangely knew it. Before me, his
relief came entirely from masturbation, an act to which he was addicted, and that has but one
goal – orgasm. But masturbation doesn’t give you heaven until the very end. So for two decades
Neil conditioned his psyche to reach that goal quickly, then savor a fleeting moment of intensity.
But with me he discovered something he never thought possible – a journey to orgasm in every
way as heavenly as the orgasm itself. Unfortunately, by age 33 he was permanently conditioned
in the masturbation mindset. And so he had to fight a tug-of-war, half of him begging for the
orgasm, the other half begging to prolong the heaven that provides it. The result was a struggle, a
battle against an unseen, unknown, and unexplainable power that overwhelms his most valiant
efforts to ward it off – and that made me feel significant.
Before you play armchair psychiatrist, let me put your assumptions to rest. Yes – I was mentally ill
and still am. No normal six year old girl builds a fantasy world around having a grown man gratify
himself with her body. No normal six year old girl fascinates herself with the sights, sounds, and
sensations of a man draining his desperation inside her. And no normal six year old girl is so
awestruck by the mystery of it all that she runs to her bedroom right afterward, lays in bed,
reaches inside her and scoops out the egg-white aftermath that represents said desperation, then
rubs it into her skin until it dries to a crust. Perhaps it was the result of being born to a 16 year old
addict. Perhaps it was the defective genetics of the derelict have pusher that impregnated her. Or
perhaps it was because I was conceived on the day man crashed its first satellite into the moon.
But whatever caused it, I was born with a brain that turns curiosity into obsession and thoughts
into compulsions, and cloaks the horrors of reality with the wonderment of fantasy. It’s called
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and in 1966 it was unknown.

Amber's Biography (2)

OCD is caused by a physical defect in the brain, and it’s something you’re born with. However, its
initial onset is usually triggered by some emotional event, and its first manifestations are usually
obsessive thoughts pertaining to that event. In my case the event was the instinctive realization
that a man is lusting over the sight of my body. Even at age six we are all born with an instinct to
understand “flirting”. Normal girls of that age are filled with a feeling of avoidance when subjected
to the lustful leers of an adult male. But the OCD stricken brain misinterprets that emotion, and
instead of an avoidance it becomes an imperative.
Intercourse at that age is horribly uncomfortable. It feels like something has reached inside you
and is ringing out your guts like a dishrag. But that discomfort is only physical and far
overshadowed by the need to satisfy a psychological obsession. A heroin addict tolerates the
sting of the needle. An athlete pushes her body to pain and fatigue for the glory of the win.
Penetration caused Neil to ejaculate instantly, and the brief few seconds of discomfort was well
worth the feeling of power and significance my obsessions demanded. And those psychosexual
obsessions would dictate my sexuality for the rest of my life. The encounters with Neil went on for
many weeks, then suddenly ended when he was spooked by the specter of getting caught.
The rest of my younghood was uneventful, and I was growing up seemingly normally … except for
the OCD which caused me to daydream and “blank out”, in the words of friends. Puberty hit me
early and hard. At age 11 the daydreams once again became obsessions, and I developed a
compulsion to penetrate myself with objects, my favorite of which was a round plastic pencil case
about the same size as a grown man’s erect penis. Just before I turned 12 I discovered
masturbation during one of those “penetration frenzies”. I was dismayed that I could no longer
experience the discomfort I once felt. My vagina had grown and developed, and penetration no
longer felt crampy. In a fit of anger I began to pump the pencil case up and down my vaginal tube
trying to feel the discomfort that my mental illness demanded, and in the process I felt something
I never imagined possible – the approach of an orgasm.
Instinct took over, and with one hand I pumped the pencil case and with the other I massaged my
clitoris until the orgasm hit me. I’d never felt anything so wonderful before. I remember just before
it hit my body tensed up so much that my hips lifted off the bed and my legs began to quiver. The
orgasm felt like a wave of pleasure that flooded my abdomen and raced up my back. My hips
slammed back down on the bed and I heard myself cry out. My reaction was strangely
reminiscent to Neil’s, and for the first time I knew what he felt, and for the first time understood
him. I quickly became addicted to masturbation, doing so upwards of 15 times a day, every day.
And during masturbation my mind raced with fantasies. Fantasies of faceless penises frantically
fighting a tug-of-war against the awesome power of my body … and losing. My obsessions now
focused on the male orgasm, on semen, on that weird tension in the seconds before, and on that
fascinating tug-of-war. At age 11, I was a full-fledged cumslut – at least in my fantasies.

Amber's Biography (3)

The obsessive thoughts nagged me mercilessly, and at age 13 I finally acted on them, becoming
sexually active with grown men. My first was the janitor at our school. The other girls my age
fantasized of cute boys and romantic sex, but I lusted for the janitor because he was a pervert.
He leered at the girls constantly, and just had a sexually frustrated look to him. My first encounter
with him was in the basement of the school behind the boiler. My second was a priest from the
nearby grammar school. I told him I was 11 because it made him literally drool. I was a chubby
girl, somewhat overdeveloped for 13 and my vagina lubricated profusely, yet he bought it. Soon I
was making myself available to the general male population, literally anyone who looked at me
lustfully. I wore short skirts and tight sweaters to facilitate said looks. And I was brilliant in my
appearance. My hair style, manner of dress, facial expressions, and body language, involved a
strategic trade-off – pretty and sexy enough to catch their hormones, yet just sleazy enough to let
them know that I’d do it if they could get me alone. And all this mixed with a dash of phony
prepubescent innocence to activate their pedophilic tendencies, something that adds a very
exciting thrill to the sex that ensues. Encounters were mostly anonymous and always quick and
opportunistic, occurring in alleyways, parking lots, park benches, etc. I can tell you that there is no
shortage of grown men who would jump at the opportunity to fuck an 11 or 12 year old girl if they
knew they wouldn’t get caught.
Despite my psychosexual obsessions, and untreated mental illness, I nevertheless excelled at
schoolwork. In high school my IQ was measured at 145. I read everything, and wrote incessantly
(a manifestation of OCD that plagues me to this day). In high school I was on the math team, the
debate team, the computer club, the writing club, and the science club, and I was our school’s
chess champ. I taught myself to play the piano, and by the time I was a Junior I was an
accomplished jazz pianist. I was also a popular girl with a lot of friends. I even joined the
cheerleading squad. And throughout all this I had a secret second life about which I told no one. I
was an incessant masturbator, and a sexual deviant that craved semen like an addict craves
heroin. I even discovered that a mixture of Jerkins cold cream and Metamucil simulates the
consistence and texture of human semen. I would use this mixture as a lubricant for masturbation
and rub it all over my breasts and legs every night before going to relax. As a happy side effect,
the skin on my breasts and thighs felt like pure silk. And still, I never dated. Boys were always
trying to hit on me, and I never went out with a single one. The thought of having a boyfriend was
disgusting. The thought of having sex with someone I like was disgusting. I was so cold to the
flirtations of boys that there was even a rumor that I was lesbian.
We now fast forward to 1977, when I was 17 years old. I met Erno, a man in his early 40s and
one of the most fascinating people I ever knew. Erno was well read, spoke several languages,
loved Faulkner and Poe (two of my favorite authors), and he was a sex addict. Erno was gay, and
had little interest in women for himself. His day was spent hanging out at lovers lanes, hiding in
the woods and watching kids “do it”. Those woods were filled with voyeurs, all of whom were
there to look at the girls … except Erno. He was there for the other voyeurs, because “nothing
fires up a cock like watching a girl in action”, in his words. Many of the voyeurs became so
aroused at the “sight seeing” that they would accept a blowjob from Erno in lieu of jerking off.
“Teen girls put fire in a pervert’s cock”, Erno would tell me. Erno was so addicted to this behavior
that, despite his obvious intellect and talents, he was unable to hold a job. Erno and I had many
conversations where we spoke openly and intelligently about our sexual proclivities.
My life took another dramatic change when I asked Erno one question – “what do you do in the
winter?”. His eyes lit up and he began to talk gleefully. He told me he was avoiding the topic
because he wasn’t sure how I would react to it. He told me that there is a sexual venue that would
appeal to my obsessions. As Erno spoke he made a great deal of sense. He reminded me that
my obsessions were the result of a permanent defect in my brain and that they will NEVER go
away. So I could either go through life fighting with myself … or I could accept my uniqueness
and use the obsessions for fun. At that time there was a saying – “if life gives you lemons, make
lemonade”. He didn’t have to do much convincing because I’d already come to the same
conclusion.

Amber's Biography (4)

Erno told me about a place called the Queen Anne Theater in NJ, about 50 miles from my home.
The Queen Anne was an XXX porn theater. Now in those days there were no VCRs, no internet,
etc, so porn was relatively inaccessible and rarely indulged in by “normal” people. So the type of
men that frequented porn theaters were on the sexual fringe. They were possessed by the same
torment and desperation that infected Neil. And like Neil, they had no outlet for release. So they
took their pent up sexual *** to the Queen Anne where they would stare at the screen while
pumping their penis into the mouths of men like Erno in an attempt to simulate kind of heaven to
which they would never be privy.
The straight men that went to the Queen Anne were uncannily similar to Neil. Like Neil, they
spent their entire sex lives as masturbators. Like Neil, most of them likely never had much (if any)
sexual contact with an actual female. Like Neil, they had no desire to demonstrate sexual
prowess to another permister. These are men with a serious masturbation mindset. Men don’t
masturbate to pleasure their hand. Adult theater sex is a form of masturbation to these men. In a
“mouth pussy” (Erno’s term) these men cum fast and hard. In the near total darkness of an adult
theater, these men can’t see the “object” kneeling on the floor. All they can see are the images of
their masturbation fantasies on the screen. And the porn movies of the 70s were designed for that
exact environment. The women would speak not to the male actors, but to the audience. She
would look out of the screen right at YOU and say things like “ohhh, how does that feel in my tight
little pussy” and “no, don’t cum yet, keep feeling my pussy slide up and down along your cock”.
And the gay men loved it because, as Erno so aptly put it, nothing puts fire in a cock better than a
girl. The gays would go from one cock to another all day long. And all day long new men would
enter as the discharged men would leave. Erno estimated that on a typical weekday afternoon, he
would suck 50 cocks to completion in the hours between lunch and dinner.
Then he told me something that made me feel a lot less “crazy”. He said that there is a Saturday
afternoon crowd that is different from the weekdays. He told me he avoids Saturdays because
that crowd doesn’t need gay men. Saturdays were the unofficial “swingers” nights. “Swingers”
was a word I’d never heard before. Indeed, it was a brand new term assigned to the age old
practices encompassing wife-swapping and group sex. But there was another, less acceptable,
type of “swinging” – cuckold relationships. In 1977 there were only a few so-called swinger clubs,
and they were off limits to single men. They also discouraged the cuckold fetish because these
clubs liked to pride themselves on the libidos of their clients. Before swingers clubs opened, the
adult theaters were the gathering places for conventional swingers. On a typical Saturday night it
would be common to find 5-6 couples having their own little orgy in the back of the theater. And
they would very rarely let any of the single men join in.
However, when swingers clubs began to pop up, they attracted the conventional swingers who
preferred the more classy “couples-only” venue to the sleaziness of an adult theater, leaving the
theaters populated primarily by cuckold couples. Cuckold men are usually impotent in normal
situations with women, but become sexually aroused when other men “threaten” their position
with their wives. I put “threaten” in quotes because there is no real threat to the relationship, but it
is subconscious implied when watching another man get off on his woman. Some men with the
cuckold fetish become so sexually aroused during said activity that they can spontaneously
ejaculate without any direct stimulation to their penis. And there is no better place to appease a
cuckold fetish than an adult theater.
And that was the Saturday crowd at the Queen Anne in 1977. On a typical Saturday afternoon
there were between 2 and 4 cuckold couples They would usually congregate together to
maximize the number of single men around their wives. The gay men avoided Saturdays because
these women were prolific enough to discharge at least 80% of the crowd, especially if there were
4 or more.

Amber's Biography (7)

As men filed up the stairs both exit signs were soon extinguished and the balcony became almost
totally lightless. As soon as the lights went out, the atmosphere filled with an excitement that I
can’t adequately describe in writing. It was like the excitement you feel on a rollercoaster when
it’s climbing that first hill. It climbs steadily and gradually, but you know something enormous is
inevitable. At this point I could feel and hear, but not see. The now countless hands that covered
every square inch of my skin had a frantic feel to them. By age 17 I’d had a lot of sex with a lot of
different men, and I’d been touched in many different ways, but there was an indescribable
hunger in those hands that was simultaneously creepy and thrilling. And fingers were probing into
my butt crack and trying to reach under me to enter my vagina, which was inaccessibly pressed
against the seat cushion.
I could feel more than one body attempting to shimmy between my legs, and I could sense the
dim light from the screen being quickly blocked out by what was now a mass of men standing in
the open space behind me. I remember feeling somewhat claustrophobic at this point, and
thought of calling it off, but the comfort of knowing one word to Erno would put an instant stop to it
encouraged me to continue. It was also clear that Erno was getting off big, as I could feel his rock
solid erection against my forehead. I felt a penis trying to probe for entrance into me, but my
vagina was covered by the seat. I began to rearrange my body, and found I had to arch my back
into a serpentine S-curve in order to lift my butt high enough for the penis to penetrate, which it
did with utmost efficacy. It was clear that this stretched out, butt high position affords a perfect
height and angle to be deeply penetrated by a standing man. The man between my legs was
pumping hard and was moaning profusely, and I could hear moans and quips all around me.
“Holy fuck”, and “god” were most common expressions of surprise and anticipation. I looked up to
see Erno’s head cocked back sucking a cock standing behind his row, the owner of which was
bent forward with his hands reaching around my torso to feel the contours of my breasts.
The penis inside me started pulsing with that familiar sensation of climax, died out, then pulled
out of me, only to be instantly replaced by another, which was in me for only a few seconds
before it started it final pulsing. That was replaced by another, then another, then another. The
penetrators were cumming very quickly, and the precession into my guts was non-stop. Although
I couldn’t see more than just outlines of people, I could sense that I was surrounded by men at
least four rows deep, and the entire space at my backside was packed. There were so many
hands clambering for my legs that I literally couldn’t move them. And on several occasions, more
than one man tried to get into fucking position at the same time. The slick feeling of semen just
seemed to appear randomly on my back, butt and legs. There was even a man trying to run his
penis along my butt crack, a sensation that started out with a lot of friction, then suddenly became
smooth and slippery. Perhaps these men felt it hopeless that they would get a turn at my
backside, or perhaps they were not capable of holding back any longer, but there were many
“jerkers”, and my skin was being continuously peppered with ejaculate.
I remember watching a Jacques Cousteau documentary on sharks in which there was a scene of
a feeding frenzy. The balcony of the Queen Anne was the sexual equivalent of a feeding frenzy.
The atmosphere was absolutely filled with orgasm, and I was not left out of that. My orgasms
were so closely spaced that they felt like one continuous orgasmic grip. And still I used my hand
on my clitoris to eek out every morsel. Erno’s chest was heaving and his head was turning from
one cock to another. I was hyperventilating and rapidly becoming emotionally exhausted.
Rollercoaster is a good analogy – it was like being on the biggest and fastest rollercoaster
imaginable.

Amber's Biography (10) Final

But perving had one major psychological difference from adult theater sex. With adult theater sex
the men there were almost guaranteed to have a nice orgasm with another permister, either from
the cuckold wives or the gay men. But with perving, the men were there expecting to watch and
jerk off. So they were already deeply in a masturbation mindset, and anything more came as a
big shock to them. These men dragged out their voyeurism all day long. They would watch and
jerk off, but not to the point of orgasm. They kept themselves from cumming under the
anticipating that the images would get better, or another couple would come along, etc. In
psychology, we call this phenomenon “intermittent reinpowerment”, and it’s a very powerful way to
modify behavior. So for hours these men were on the verge of orgasm, and aroused to the point
of near insanity.
This offered a perfect situation for women with the cumslut fetish, especially mine. It took almost
no stimulation to set them off. So the stimulation you give them right away is pussy. And that
starts that old tug-of-war to which I was addicted as a young. Part of them is desperate for the
pussy, but the other part fight against ending heaven with an orgasm. So you bend over in front of
one and he pushes in like handling nitroglycerine. You make sure to grab his hands and stroke
them up and down your thighs just to give a little added “punch” to his fruitless battle. And as he
struggles with all his might for just another second of heaven … just one more second, you can
feel the head of his penis bloat like a balloon, you can feel the shaft elongate, you can feel the
skin tighten to a sheen inside you, you can feel his legs quivering against the back of yours, and
you can hear those little screechy sounds a man makes when he’s struggling to lift a weight
clearly too heavy for him. You lift your butt and arch your back opening your vaginal tube to allow
him to eek out one more inch, and you wait … you wait one more second … one more second.
That’s the most exciting part – those seconds you wait.
The first two squirts come out very quiet, but hit your cervix like a bullet. Then you’ll feel his body
jerk behind you and he releases his breath with a cry-like sigh. Now that there is no need to hold
back anymore he will begin to pump, frantically trying to hang on to as much of this paradise as
biology would allow. And you can feel your vaginal tube milk every drop of torment out of him.
The torment of a dozen girls that day. The girl who Frenched her boyfriend for an half hour. The
girl with the tight shorts whose eyes rolled back when she got her tits grabbed. The girl who took
her boyfriend’s penis in her mouth after looking around to make sure perverts like him weren’t
watching. The girl who lifted her skirt and let her boyfriend have a poke at paradise. All those girls
who filled him with torment all day come out inside you at that moment. And it is a GLORIOUS
sensation.
Perving was fun and exciting. At any lovers lane there are about a dozen voyeurs you can
victimize, and you can perv all afternoon. Perving, by the way, is still an exciting pastime for many
cuckold couples and gangbang girls, and is presently called “dogging”. And the best part is that
the social swinger consider dogging to be a low-life activity and stay far away. So you see, it’s still
fun and exciting. Unfortunately, many girls today are afraid of bareback sex, and there’s a lot of
thrill lost with condoms. Me? Well let’s do a quick calculation. I’ve been doing adult theater sex
and perving for 32 years. I do it almost every week, twice a week – that’s about 100 times a year.
On each episode I average about 15 men, about half of them come back for seconds later on.
That means I absorb about 22.5 cumshots per episode. Each cumshot averages about 6 mL in
volume. Thus, in my life I have absorbed into my body 32 X 100 X 22.5 X 6 = 432,000 mL or
roughly 114 gallons of semen! I’m still healthy as a horse at age 49. So will I start using condoms
now? NOPE.
I still prefer adult theaters to swingers clubs, and happily a few adult theaters are popping up.
There are two here in Toronto (where I now live), and at least one of them has a modicum of the
old time excitement. However, there is one swingers club in town that attracts the adult theater
crowd by offering a pitch black room and advertising in the sleazy free rags. They also put flyers
up at the adult theaters advertising for men to join the “gangbang”. This club offers a very hot
atmosphere for a girl like me because it attracts the right kind of penis AND the right kind of girls.
Acting on this fetish is always more exciting when you’re not the only female there. The other girls
tend to elevate the sexual fever of the crowd. On any Friday night there are about 30 men and 5-
6 women participating. In nearby Buffalo/Niagara there are two quite sleazy (this is good) adult
theaters that are unfortunately populated mostly by gay men. But there are enough straight
penises with “fire”, as my long lost friend Erno would put it, to make the trip worthwhile.

Very nice biography on her. Would love to know where she has more information.

You have mail

Robbie,

Wow that was a great read! Really got me going. Seems like I missed the golden years, though I doubt I would have had the guts to do what she did. I'd like to know more about her too--for so long I thought I was the only one like this.

Reading her stories reminds me about the gays who were there, I'd forgotten about them. It's true that guys would mostly ignore them when women were there, but when we first came into the theater we would often see blow jobs going on. The gays must have hated me.

I've been trying to think of something else to contribute but I pretty much told all my experiences. I can tell a little more about the cocks I saw. As you can imagine, they were all shapes and sizes. One theater actually had good lighting, we liked to sit near exit signs or anything else bright so we could see that the guys' cocks didn't have any obvious sores or anything. I must say that most guys really do have pretty cocks. There weren't many I saw that turned me off. Even quite small ones can be sexy to me, though my favorites are big, black ones (I know, its such a cliche). I remember the first time I saw one of those REALLY big black ones, the kind that make you wonder if you're seeing right (fans of this site will know what I"m talking about). It was incredibly exciting to feel that guy in my hand. He was thug looking and kind of surly, which added to the excitement for me.

I remember another black guy with an absolutely enormous dick, but the odd thing was he never seemed to get completely hard. I jerked him off on a few occasions and he came, but he always seemed only semi-hard. I have to say I'd rather have a small rock-hard one than a big semi-hard one--there's no substitute for enthusiasm!

Jessica, thanks once again for sharing your experiences. you have mail!

the story reminds me that some guys will fuck anything, and I mean anything...


I suppose that this thread will soon be extolling the virtues of farm naturals......

Now me, I like a little more challange....YES!

Great post, tanks

Interesting story about Amber. A bit creepy at first but she sounds like a nympho that I'd like to meet. I still find it hard to believe that women like Jessica and Amber actually get into this kind of scene. I've just never seen any women at theaters or gholes I guess.

I've only seen a few women in them and only had the privilege to play with one that I recounted the event on another post here, https://www.cuckoldplace.com/2_49636_0.html. It is rare but oh so exciting!

Robiie,

The Paris theater in Portland OR is a great theater where every weekend many many women and couples are there to have fun.

Brentstheatertales in Yahoo groups gives you the play by play. Every time I go I am always amazed.

Someone asked about this video earlier in this post. The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!

Here's a couple of more clips:

The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!
The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!

I've never been to the Paris, I've heard good things about the effermister though, and I have played a few times at the Oregon.

Nice glory hole vid

http://www.youcuck.com/videos/black-cock-loving/

Jessicabunny, sorry it took so long, but I finally made it back to answer your question. When we planned ahead of time, my wife would always try to look nice and classy, not too slutty, and would normally wear a dress, or a skirt and blouse, generally bare-legged but sometimes with stockings, never with pantyhose. She would almost always wear sexy panties to the theaters, although if we were going to find a gloryhole she would frequently go without - she wasn't looking to get fucked in the theaters and I guess the panties gave her the illusion of being protected, as the wall between booths did at the gloryhole. Just my take on it, she said she didn't know why she usually followed that pattern, she was just more comfortable that way.

I was more boring, usually just in a shirt or t-shirt and jeans, or shorts in warm weather, the knit kind with the convenient elastic waist. I would usually go commando, as I often do, and when I wear underwear it's knit boxers. My favorite dress of hers for this activity was a soft blue-grey fabric (I think it's called shallie??sp.) with tiny white flowers on it, which had a fitted top part and a skirt which flared out over her hips and hung in soft folds, ending a couple inches above her knees. It had a low, scooped neckline which displayed a lot of cleavage - and which allowed guys to cum on her tits without her removing any clothing. We had a number of great experiences with her in that dress, and there's no telling how many loads it absorbed in the times she wore it, including several of mine.

Two experiences with that dress I'll tell about, the first at a theater:

This was in Seattle, at the theater in Everett that I mentioned earlier. We had taken seats about halfway back, me on the end of the row and her next to me. We were the only couple; all others were men, probably about 9 or 10 of them. Several were busy entertaining each other when we entered, with others watching and/or jerking off, all in the back two rows. The movie was the usual boring, vapid stuff, the entertainment was in the theater itself, and when we took our seats it didn't take long for a guy to detach himself and join us in our aisle, sitting one seat away from my wife, on her left. He soon had his hard cock out and was stroking it, exhibiting himself for my wife.

He had a long slender cock, maybe 7" or so, which curved sharply upwards, or in this position back toward his stomach, and I know she enjoyed watching him masturbate. She pulled up the leg of my shorts, freeing my cock and balls, and began to lightly stroke me, soon bringing me to full erection.
At this time we had played in theaters several times, and she was more confident about signalling him to move closer, which she did by openly watching him jerk off and then and putting her hand on the seat between them, reaching out toward the far side. He took the hint and quickly moved next to her, and she immediately took his cock in hand and began to stroke him as she was me. As it always did, this sent electric shocks of excitement straight to my groin, and I put my hand on her thigh and ran it up under her dress to her pussy, finding her silky panties warm and already quite moist. I pressed them into her, stroking her sex with my fingers, and her panties soon went from moist to wet, her obvious arousal pushing me close to my own limits. I had to grab her hand to stop her stroking, or I would have cum.

The guy she was jerking off put his hand on her other leg, just above the knee, and when she moved her legs further apart he took that as a sign to proceed. I was a little surprised when she did that, and realized then just how horny she was. Usually, unless she was extremely turned on, she wouldn't let guys touch much more than her breasts. He slid his hand up to her crotch, bumping into my fingers, so I hooked her panties with two fingers and pulled the crotch aside, toward me, giving him access to her. She would have objected then, if she had any problem with it. She didn't.

By now we had two guys in the row in front of us, one standing and watching while he jerked off and the other sitting and watching over his shoulder, and another guy behind us, looking down over her shoulder, leaning between us slightly as he stroked himself, his stiff thick cock kind of between her face and mine but close to her, almost rubbing it on her cheek and in her hair.

I knew the effect all of this would be having on her, it was so dirty and illicit, and I heard her gasp as his fingers touched her pussy, and she told me later that he put a couple of fingers inside of her almost at once, sliding them out wet and slippery to stroke her hard clit. I heard him whisper "Oh yeah, that's a nice wet pussy", and I know she tried to stifle the sounds she makes as she approaches orgasm, but a few soft moans and grunts, along with heavy breathing and gasping still escaped. I realized he was about to make my wife cum right there in the theater, the first time someone other than me had done that!

When her thighs snapped shut on his hand and she groaned deep in her throat, her hips pushing up against him, I knew she'd had a good, hard orgasm, and that knowledge set me off, grabbing her hand which had just been holding on to my cock and moving it until she realized and took over herself. I came on the arm of my seat, on her leg and her dress, and the the last dribbles on my own pants, but I didn't care at that point, it had just been such an arousing scene and felt so damn good!

He came soon after, standing quickly and stepping in front of her. I think he wanted her to take it in her mouth, but she directed his spurts onto her chest, getting a good spatter on her tits and one long spurt on her neck. He also got a fair bit on her dress, not the first time it had soaked up cum. The guy behind her came moments later, his cum just running out of him rather than spurting, and it mostly fell onto her shoulder and collarbone, running down onto and between her tits and lower, under her dress. He rubbed the head of his cock against her cheek, leaving a smear of cum just in front of and below her ear, at her jawline, and a little in her hair.

The guy that had gotten her off tucked himself away and zipped up, leaning down to thank us and to kiss her forehead! I thought that was kind of weird, but nice, and then he left the theater. The guy behind patted her shoulder and moved back to the rear of the theater. The guy that had been standing in front of us took the vacant seat next to her and she got him off very quickly, with him muttering "Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh fuck!" as he came. She said he had the largest cock of the night, and wished he had gone on a little longer before cumming on her.

She did one more guy before we left, also a fairly quick handjob, and so we figured she had all or parts of five loads on her, had enjoyed one good orgasm herself, as had I, and we got to leave the theater and walk to our rental car with her dress well and obviously spattered with semen, which was kind of a game for us for awhile, going to public places with cum on her clothes. It showed well as darker wet spots on the bluish dress, another thing we liked about that garment, and we stopped and went into a convenience store to buy a few things on the way back to our hotel, where we had to walk through the lobby to get to the elevator. I know people saw her wet stains, and some may have guessed what they were, especially if they got close enough to smell the sex on her.

We started to play and touch in the elevator, still very aroused, and I was inside of her within seconds after getting into our room. Sadly, I didn't last much longer there than I had in the theater, I was much too aroused. Fortunately, I don't mind going down on her anytime, even after cumming inside of her, so we both ended up happy and completely satisfied.

I'll have to save the other story, that dress at the gloryhole, for another time. This, as always, has gotten too long!