Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
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I was in beautiful Holland, land of tulips, and on business when the fantastical events of this story take place. My presentation had gone well and I was done early for the day, so when I passed the Escher Museum on my way back to my hotel I decided to stop in.
I wasn't too familiar with the works of Escher. I found them to be odd representations of impossible realities.
There were staircases that led back to their beginnings and walkways that turned into waterfalls, but the water didn't always flow the right way. If you haven't seen his drawings before now would be a good time to stop reading to take a quick look. My tale will make more sense if you do.
I had spent about a half hour perusing the confusing hallways of the old building that at times seemed like it was itself one of his prints adorning the walls. I hadn't yet had lunch so I made my way to the cafeteria in the basement for a bite.
After lunch I needed to use the restroom. Wandering around the lower levels of the maze-like structure I finally found one. Then upon exiting I discovered I was lost.
I wasn't too concerned. It was a public building after all. I was bound to eventually find a way out.
Turning a corner I found a newer looking display. This one was a mod sculpture of sorts. It looked like a big white free-standing melamine wall. It was about six feet long and maybe seven feet tall with two rows of holes. The first row of holes was slightly lower than waist high and the upper row was placed so that if one crouched about four inches lower you could see right through into the other side of the room.
I was intrigued. Somehow, when I looked through the hole the shadows didn't seem right so I had to take a closer look.
Maybe it wasn't the shadows. Maybe it was the lighting, I don't know. Anyway, I started to explore the piece. I looked through each of the holes. Yep, something was wrong on the other side. Then I walked around it and peered through the other way only to notice the same effect.
Next, I stuck my hand through one of the holes. It didn't feel off in any way. I stuck it through another. This time I was startled to find that someone was on the other side and they were also poking their hand through the wall.
I called through a hole but he didn't answer. Walking around the wall I caught a glimpse of his heel just as he came over to the side I just left.
Again, I spoke into a hole, only to be met with another silent response. I looked through an upper hole again, then waved my hand on the other side. He was waving to me as well but through a lower hole.
I waved again. So did he. I looked through the hole he had been at but the trickster had moved to a new hole. I waved in that lower hole and he waved back through an upper hole.
Slowly a strange thought began to dawn on me. I experimented to test my hypothesis. Putting one finger through a hole I saw my antagonist copy my move. I wiggled my fingers and so did he. I beckoned him to the center hole by crooking my finger but he was beckoning me to a lower hole.
I dashed over to catch him at the upper center hole with success - of sorts. Before me I saw the zipper of his pants. I looked up to see if he was peeking over the wall but he was not.
I looked again, moving closer to the hole. He also moved closer. Testing my hypothesis again I broke a social norm by reaching through the hole and touching the front of his pants.
Below I felt my own pants being touched. I watched him touch me, noticing the exact shade of my gray suit, then looked back to compare. We had on the same suit. My dawning realization took form and I knew that he was me reaching through the wall to wave at and touch me. The wall itself was another impossible Escher.
My mind reeled. I was staring at my own crotch, inches from my face, but displaced from a lower hole on my side of the wall to an upper hole on that side.
A strange thought seized my imagination then. Casually, in the past, I had considered sucking my own penis (It's not gay if it's your own.) but had put it out of my mind when I could't reach.
I squeezed and rubbed myself through the wall, simultaneously on both sides. My penis grew erect on both sides as well. I had just unzipped and was seeing my own hard dick for the first time from an inferior perspective. I could only do this because I had the reassurance that this appendage was mine and not some dirty dicked stranger's. I had touched it a million times before. With some uncertainty, I had tasted little dabs of my cum a few times before too. Just then an accusing cough from behind me caused me to jump in alarm.
I turned to see that I had been caught by a uniformed employee of the museum. I zipped up quickly, greatly embarrassed, and worried about the repercussions; in a foreign land no less, while on a job. Would I be arrested...and then fired?
The intimidating man spoke, "About once a year we catch someone doing that. I work nights. I've done it a lot too." His last comment relieved some of my fear. "Come with me." We went to an office where I filled out some forms: Name, address, length of stay, etc.
Returning my I.D. to me he said, "You can't visit this museum or wall again." Then he paused and seemed to size me up, "But if you want, a wall can visit you. A better wall." I looked at his face. He flashed a friendly disarming smile. My shame left me and I nodded.