No Words

I grew up before the internet, when the only porn available to teenagers were 'dirty' magazines. But one winter I was able to get into a local theater that showed adult films. Located in the poorer section of town, its marquee posted no film titles, just the letters XXX. Stepping up to the ticket window I was nervous they'd turn me away. They didn't, probably because business was slow and things were more lenient back then.

The lobby was musty and empty, its glory days as a non-adult theater long past. There was no snack bar since people didn't come here wanting popcorn.

When I entered the theater I saw about a dozen people -- a dozen men - scattered throughout the rows. Most turned their heads to see who had just entered, probably worried I was someone they knew or, even worse, a cop. I found a seat in an empty row and shrunk down.

My heart was beating fast, and I felt even more nervous now that I had made it this far. Onscreen a straight porno played; a pig-tailed blond felated an older man. It didn't take long for my nervousness to be replaced by arousal.

About 10 minutes later a man entered my row. I didn't know if he was new or someone who had just switched seats. He sat down about five seats from me and, ignoring me, stared up at the screen. I though about moving since there were plenty of other empty rows, but I didn't. I followed his lead and stared at the screen and ignored him.

A little later the man stood up. He hunched his back to not block anyone's view behind him and, still watching the screen, he slowly edged his way towards me. He took the seat next to mine, still staring up at the screen, still ignoring me. Needless to say it spooked me, but for some reason I again didn't change my seat.

For a short time we sat there quietly. My erection had subsided when he had first sat down but as the scene on the screen intensified -- there were now two blondes on their knees -- my arousal increased, and soon my erection was back. I was glad he was ignoring me as I tried to surreptitiously fix my pants. If he noticed he didn't acknowledge it.

Onscreen one of the blondes turned her attention to the other blonde. I split my attention between watching the girl-on-girl action and sneaking glances to my right at this stranger. In the dim light he looked normal, average looking, maybe in his thirties or forties. He didn't look creepy or disgusting or gay. I figured him to be just a regular Joe who, like me, felt the need to watch a little porn tonight.

But it was creepy that given all the empty seats in the theater he chose to sit right next to me. Then again, why hadn't I changed my seat? That would have been easy enough, especially when he first moved down. Now I felt somehow compelled to stay there.

And then, without speaking, without even looking at me, he reached over and placed his hand over my wrist. When I didn't protest or resist, he picked up my arm and guided my hand into his lap, placing my palm firmly over his erection. I held my breath but didn't pull away. He kept staring at the screen, not speaking, as if I wasn't even there, that only my hand was.

With his hand still on my wrist he moved my hand up and down in a slow rhythm. It was a wordless instruction which I followed, for when he removed his grip, I continued to gently massage his erection through his pants. I had never done anything like this before but I didn't doing it now. To be honest, I kind of enjoyed it.

Peering at him peripherally I noticed that he remained staring up at the screen showing, his face showing no emotion. A few minutes passed before he reached down to unbutton his pants and lower his zipper. I moved my hand but he again took my wrist and guided my hand into the open flap. I now massaged him through his underwear, feeling the full size of his penis and even a little wet spot of per-cum. He shifted in his seat but his eyes remained glued to the screen.

And me? My own erection was almost painful now. I have to admit -- this was turning me on. Me, a straight guy, was basically jacking off a stranger, and it was incredibly erotic. And the way he did it, ignoring me and yet silently controlling me, was part of the turn-on. (And maybe if he had approached me differently - if he had spoken or asked permission or intimidated me - I might have gotten scared and fled.)

It didn't take long for him once again take my wrist, this time slipping my hand under the waistband of his underwear. Now I was actually holding his cock in my hand, feeling both the warm skin and a sticky substance near the head. I needed no prodding to start again move my hand up and down, rubbing him with fingers firmly wrapped around his cock. He slid his butt down an inch in his seat and I heard him utter a quiet "mmm". I continued gentle strokes until he again took my wrist and shook it faster, indicating what he wanted.

From the time he entered my row until now I was kind of in a trance, but the spell broke when I heard two men enter the theater behind us. I instantly pulled my hand away and he nonchalantly closed the flap of his pants. I held my breath as the men passed our row and found seats closer to the screen. The man next to me reopened the flap of his pants but I was sufficiently spooked. Without a word I stood up -- while first adjusting my erection -- and made my getaway.

Rather than immediately exit the theater I hit the men's room, not sure if I needed to pee or jack-off. Standing at the urinal, I undid my fly and pulled out my own cock. It was too hard to pee so I began to massage myself instead, realizing I was using some of the stranger's sticky pre-cum as lube. I had only given myself a few strokes before the door opened behind me. When I turned I saw that he had followed me in. He walked to one of the stalls and opened the door but didn't go in.

I turned my head and stared down at my erection. Now unable to either pee or masturbate, I decided it was time to get the hell out of there. I wrestled my hard-on back into my underwear and zipped up, then headed for the door. But when I neared the man he took a step backwards, blocking my path. He stood with one hand still holding the stall door. He stared at me, not menacingly but authoritatively. Of course I could have escaped, but I didn't. And when he nodded at the inside of the stall I did what he wanted me to do. Knowing I was there to finished job I had started back in the theater I stepped inside the stall and turned to face him.

He followed me in and closed the stall door behind him, forcing me to back away until I was up against the toilet. He placed his hands on my shoulders and gently nudged me down. When I was seated, he again unsnapped his pants. After undoing the zipper his pants slid down to his ankles. As he lowered his white briefs to mid-thigh level his cock was now free and about level to my face. I looked up at him, then returned my gaze to his middle-aged cock in front of me. Knowing what I had to do (or maybe what I wanted to do) I reached up and gripped his cock with my right hand. I stroked it tentatively at first, but after he arched his back a bit I picked up speed. I then placed my other hand over the head of his cock, and used my thumb to rub the tip, well aware what would feel good to him.

It didn't take long before I felt a buildup of pre-cum, and this encouraged me to hold him firmer and to stroke faster. I wanted him to cum. I wanted to be the one who was making him cum.

But then he reached down and, brushing my hands aside, took his cock into his own hands. When I looked up I saw that he was staring at me, watching me as he hurried to finish. I couldn't turn away. I just stared at the fierceness of his expression. The muscles in his face tightened and he bit hit his lower lip. Knowing it would be any second, I finally looked down and watched as globs of cum spurted into his hand, some of it spitting further and landing on my shirt, some others dripping down onto my pants leg.

He let out a few heavy breathes and took one step back. He held his hand out to me, and as he fingers opened up like a flower in bloom, I saw the wad of cum it held. Then he flicked his wrist downward and the fluid fell to the floor with a splat. He undid some toilet paper and wiped his hand.

Seeing his messy penis I grabbed some toilet paper as well. Maybe I wanted to thank him for not making me suck his cock (which I probably would done) or maybe I was just exhibiting my submissive nature, but I wanted to complete my service to him. I squeezed his cock with one hand while my other dabbed him clean. I was still cleaning him when he rolled his soiled toilet paper into a ball and tossed it in my lap. When I finished, he pulled up his underwear and pants, zipped up, and without a word opened the stall door and left me there. I watched as he walked to the sink to wash his hands. He passed the stall without looking in, then left the room, leaving me alone and dazed.

What had I just done? Was this really me? Who was I? And why was I still so turned on?

To resolve my arousal, I stood and closed the stall, then lowered my own pants. Taking my hard-on in my hands I started to masturbate. I tried to mentally envision the blondes on the porno film but all I could think of was the stranger's cock in my hands. And as I recalled him cumming in front of me, I finally felt my own orgasm building up, and my own hands filling up with cum.

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Note: This is fictional story and is Copyright (c) 2020 by MRALX99. You may not copy or use it for any commercial purpose.