Update 2018: I’m adding new art to this very old post, and I realise that this glorious sex cinema frolic might need a bit of a content warning. It was a deeply pleasurable, intensely filthy thing, which I loved taking part in. It was also intense, as you’d imagine any event involving a slightly-nervous girl, her even-more-nervous boyfriend, and a gang of eager men with erections might be. It might not be for everyone, but if you like that sort of thing I’d like to reassure you that all of this was fully consensual, and I’m grateful to all these strangers for showing me such a sexy time!
I don’t want to shock you, but there’s a cinema in Soho that shows pornography. Actual pornography. Nothing quite as good as you’d get on the best sites, but more than you’d get in a strip show. Despite the low quality of the porn, I can tell you that these places will never be killed off by the internet.
The reason they are fun has little to do with the porn and everything to do with the stinking fetid desperate stench of angry wanking men. A stench that hangs in the air with a slightly nervewracking promise, and the remnants of which has seeped into the very upholstery.
Initially I thought the deal was that you just go in to the sex cinema, sit down, and watch the porn (or, in my case, watch the guys vigorously watching the porn). But it turns out that not only are you actually allowed to watch these guys wanking, they really really enjoy you watching it.
OK. It might not seem like a revelation to you, but to me at the time it was a lottery win. It’s the equivalent of someone saying “you know this super-hot thing that you’ve always wanted? It’s actually not only OK, but there are loads of people who will get off on you doing it.” Jackpot.
What happened in the sex cinema
I was there with a boy. A special one, who I trusted to not only look out for me and protect me, but also to push me into fucked-up things that I’d otherwise be too nervous for. The minute we walked in to the sex cinema (he in domly protective mode, me in a short skirt and on heat) we were surrounded. The seats we’d chosen were roughly in the middle, and heads turned as he sat me down and pulled my top up to show them my tits.
He stripped me to just the point where I started getting shy, then pushed my head over the back of the seat so I couldn’t see what was going on. By this point a couple of the guys had started touching me, and he batted away the ones that were obviously awful/terrifying, but checked a couple of others and let them join in.
Initially there was just a lot of touching and pulling; guys pinching my nipples and squeezing my tits like they wanted to prove it was all real. It was a bit painful, and quite scary. I started squeaking a bit as guys did things that hurt, or made me nervous, like pulling my hair or putting their hands round my throat. There were at least 3 behind me trying ever so gently to push things into my mouth.
The boy sensed I was getting nervous, so he slipped his hand between my legs and gave me something to grind against.
As I started to more visibly enjoy it, they started pressing in harder. More came closer to join us, and I kept having to push hands away as everyone was trying to reach to pinch my nipples, or get their fingers into me.
I noticed that there were a couple of guys being a bit more restrained. Well, as restrained as you can be when you’re offering your cock to a strange girl in a sex cinema, at least. One (an eager young guy, probably no older than I was at the time) was kneeling on the seats in front, pushing his cock towards me with a desperate grin, the other (about 45, looked like most of the dads I’ve ever met) was sat to my right, frantically rubbing and stopping and rubbing and stopping like coming was simultaneously his life goal and his worst nightmare.
I held both of them and rubbed while my boy fucked me with his hand, using his other hand to fend off the crowd who were getting a bit more frantic now – pushing forward, pressing the dripping heads of their cocks against me, doing anything to get close to whatever flesh would provide the quickest release.
The older guy came first – runny, drizzling buckets all over my hand and up my forearm. If I think really hard now I can still remember how it felt.
Sadly for the other guy, he missed out – as he was getting closer and started to make little squeaks and moans, a surge of three or four guys leant a bit too heavily on the row of chairs, and there was a crack. Me, the boy, and the guy who’d finished were tipped forward and almost bundled by the guys behind. One of them was undisturbed by the collapse and continued busily wanking into my hair, and two of them were trying (much harder now) to force their fingers in my mouth.
At this point we decided it was probably safer to leave. As we stepped blinking out of the cinema, with me cleaning the remnants of the first guy from one of my hands, a short guy who I didn’t recognise stepped up to say:
“Thankyou. Just thankyou.”
I remember being a bit annoyed that he thought I wanted thanking, given that I’d had most of the fun. I’d hate to think that I provided sexual release to a sexist.
This story is now available as audio porn – click ‘listen now’ above or head to the audio porn page for more. If you liked this story and are tempted to do it, I am sorry to tell you that this sex cinema has since closed down. If you find a good one, though, I hope you have fun!
UPDATE JUNE 2014: This post is so unbelievably popular, I wrote up a similarly filthy event in an Amsterdam sex booth, as well as some other thoughts on furtive dirty sex.