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Paris Theater Slut Part 3

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Paris Theater Slut Part 3As written by a real hotwife:The Paris was one of the few actual porn theaters left in the country. Most are now small spaces with a mixture of novelties, kinky attire, video booths and theater rooms. Very few are old fashioned movie houses. Like the drive in movie, they are a dying breed.When I entered for the first time, at that point in my life, I was a veteran of sex in movie houses, glory holes, swingers parties, hotel parties, and a variety of other unique venues. The Paris is not a place for the timid or the uninitiated. An attractive woman is often treated as a unicorn, a mythical creature; even today, when playing in adult theaters. I was prepared to be mobbed, pawed, groped, and, in the moment, the object of every man’s sexual appetite.In the past such ravenous behavior would cause me to panic. Men closing in from all sides would incite a hyperventilating surreal separation of mind and body. Now I encourage it, now I walk naked into the wolves den. But no matter how many parties I attend or theaters I visit, that nervous anxiety one feels before the big game never dissipates. I gave up, long ago, trying to get the butterflies to leave, now I just try to get them to fly in formation.The lobby was small and sparse, a few metal chairs and round bar tables. One guy, big heavy man was expecting me, think his name was Brent. Many theaters have methods of alerting their regulars. Like shooting up a red flare, their internet flags go out like indian smoke signals. “Brent’s theater tails,” I think that was what he called his media posts. We exchanged “hellos,” he was there for the play by play commentary not the blow jobs.I had to relieve my bladder and check my makeup. The bathroom was exactly as expected, dirty, old tile missing in spots. I felt my pussy, still soaking wet from Rick’s cum. I rubbed some under each nostril. My panties were also wet and rode uncomfortably up my ass but I knew they wouldn’t be on for long. My heart was racing, my head was swimming in a sea of pleasure. I smiled as I exited the ladies room.“Are you ready?” I could tell by the tone he was getting impatient.“Do I look ok?” As if it mattered.He chuckled, “baby you are, without question, the most beautiful woman ever to set foot in the Paris theater.” “They are going to eat you up.”“Setting the bar pretty low aren’t you,” I smirked.It was a blackened cavernous place, the air was humid, smelled istanbul escort of mold, piss and cum but, happily, not shit or puke. Rows of theater seats ran in a traditional pattern down to a large stage and movie screen. In front of the stage was the infamous “arena.” This amounted to a “play platform” fronted by a few couches and backed by the stage. Men would stand up on the stage in order to get a better view of things taking place on the platform. To my right, as I walked in, was a small set of stairs leading up to a low balcony converted into a play space with chairs and what appeared to be medical exam tables. We hastily decided to start there.The landing was just two feet above the sloping aisle. Hubby led me to the last exam table and I stood in front of him, on display. Men crowded the railing, some came up on the landing…hoping for a first taste. I stood up while husband sat on the edge of the medical lounger. He lifted my top while kissing the back of my neck. I pulled my shorts deep into my wetness, as far as they would go, my pussy lips squeezed out of each side like silly putty.He smiled, looking over my shoulder and began to hum that little ditty taken from the Beach Boys song titled Kokomo. Then he began singing.“Your biscuit, your beavage,I see your cooter cleavage.”“Your coochie, your flapper,you’re showin off your snapper.”Men in the front started to chuckle, most of them were already stroking hard cocks. Some had taken off all clothing. Most were less daring but it was obvious, this was a theater used to making it’s own rules. Outside there was a large population that had no idea of the kinky things which took place within these walls. Husband took this opportunity to introduce me.“Hey guys this is candi.” They took that as a green light. Some said “hello candi,” the ones in front, pressed against the steel pipe railing, ran their hands up and down my legs, letting fingers caress my vagina.“Hi Portland!” I looked out over the crowd, seeing my new friends from the bar. They were trapped in the middle of the pack. Had to be at least a hundred horny, hungry cocks. I noticed a few other couples with smaller gatherings of boners but I was definitely the main attraction.“I want you to walk naked down to the arena area, I will be there waiting and watching for you. Take your time.” Then husband slipped off my blouse avcılar escort and white hot pants, he took off his own clothes in order to secure them in a locker near the stage. And off he went, leaving me with nothing on but soft lacy panties, long dangling earrings and black “fuck me” pumps. I was every bit of five foot eleven inches tall, very tall for most women, even in high heals. My legs were long, slender, and smooth. My tits were firm but hung low enough that they looked and felt real. My ass was a round fuzzy peach with a string of white panties separating each cheek. My pussy was tight and tingled with anticipation. I clipped my long blonde hair back into a ponytail, knowing it would only intrude and block hubby’s view. I was, if nothing else, now a veteran of wanton lust and desire.I took a deep breath, inhaled the bottle of poppers husband brought from home. The rush was instant and intense. Those who frequent dark adult theaters, glory holes, and gay bath houses know the feeling. The heart quickens, resolve disappears, the urge to get wild and nasty is overpowering. I made my way down the stairs and toward my throne.It was akin to a scene from a zombie flick. The dim aisle lights gave everyone a pale albino appearance, like cave dwellers who had just discovered, not fire, but pussy. Hands and lips were everywhere. Sliding along my ass crack, saliva on my tits, fingers dipping beyond matted pubic hair. I heard someone yell out, “hey guys back off, give her some room.”“No, it’s ok,” I grinned, “I love the attention.” That opened the flood gates wider. I felt my panties being being pulled off while someone was forcing his tongue past my sphincter, as far into my ass as possible. I spread my legs apart, a clear invitation. The guy in front of me was completely naked, even in near total darkness I could tell he was the one who bent to slip off my panties. I had a dozen more back home. These were the same panties husband fantasized me wearing every time he jerked off at home, the only kind he would let me wear whenever we went on an adventure. I was certain that pair would never see daylight again. They had to be infused with the scents of cum, ass, and pussy; now someone else’s stimulus toward masturbation.Mr. naked had a thin frame and a long narrow cock. He was tall and It slid easily into my pussy. Not an easy feat for smaller cocks. His hands reached şirinevler escort around, grabbed and spread my ass cheeks. Almost like they were a team, the rear guard stood and buried two fingers up my now lubricated asshole while he tongued my ears. I could smell my own ass on his breath. It made me want to kiss him, I leaned back, threw an arm over my shoulder, behind his head, and pulled his lips to mine. There I stood, surrounded by unleashed eager vessels of semen three rows deep, vacuous stares crowded in shoulder to shoulder. A cock in my right hand, another in my left, one in my pussy, and one pressed against my asshole. Hands on my tits, one at a time, leaving the other free to stroke his own dick.I felt his man nectar run up then immediately down my slit, at the same time another came on my ass. When Mr. naked pulled out and moved off, I knelt down in the middle of the sloping wide aisle and began sucking one cock after another, letting a mouthful of cum from one shaft grease the next. This was all foreplay for the many men who held back. Knowing the arena was the main show, sensing, hoping, that this would be one of those nights they would talk about for years. Relatively speaking, few women were brave or slutty enough to play here, but even rarer still were women who looked like I did, at the age of forty two. I was determined to make this an experience none of these men would soon forget.My knees were sore and just in time the crowd pulled me to my feet. I had cum in my hair, running down my forehead, across my lips. Cum sliding out of my pussy. The smell was now pungent and I loved it. If they made cum scented candles I would adorn my bedroom with them. Someone had stolen my small bottle of poppers many cocks ago, now it magically appeared under my nose. I was treading in ecstasy. This went on for at least half an hour before I was able to make the short distance down to the play platform, where a very eager husband waited patiently, enjoying every second of the show. I noticed his cock was also rock hard. He would get close then back off, edging, knowing his orgasm was going to be of epic proportions. It was my husband, of course, who first introduced me to amyl nitrate. As a bisexual man he had been sniffing for years, he had his own bottle.The men were such gentlemen, helping me up onto the platform by way of hands along my sloppy cunt. I stood up, way above my adoring fans. I looked around the room, finally getting a clear view of my situation.“God I love Portland cock!” I almost screamed the words. I learned long ago how to play to the crowd. These guys deserved my best effort. They laughed.“We love you Candi.” This from my new best friends. I sought them out and waved them forward.

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