My heart raced as I made my way into the seedy shop. The fluorescent lighting was glaring, giving a stark contrast to the darkness outside.

Right in the middle of 8th avenue, sandwiched between a restaurant and a garment shop was a store whose windows were plastered with images of scantily clad women, bleached and faded from years in the sun. They served at one time as advertisements, but now mostly to shield the customers on the inside from pedestrians on the street.

I had passed by this place a hundred times on the way to work and eventually got it in my head that I needed to check it out. I’d been in porn shops before on a lark, but this time I wasn’t there to purchase smut. Almost unnoticeable among the faded advertisements was a small sign that caught my eye one day and drew me in. “Private booths inside.”

I had heard about the seedier era in New York City’s history, where the areas around Times Square were filled with prostitutes, porn shops and strip clubs. These had been phased out over the years, but a few relics of the glory days remained. Each time I passed the store by, my curiosity would peak. What happens in there now? I had grown bored of online porn and strip clubs. I needed a new thrill.

As I entered and my eyes adjusted, a weary looking man in his 40’s looked down at me from a raised cashier platform. I hurried by, somehow worried he would kick me out. I browsed the porn videos and tried to not make eye contact with the other patrons. I noticed a couple giggling as they looked over the various toys the store had on offer. I glanced up nervously, looking for any sign of the booths.

Finally, I spotted it. A large white sign said “Buddy booths” with an arrow pointing to a seemingly dark downstairs area.

I swallowed hard as I approached the stairs. I’ll either have a great time down there exploring, or be killed. I decided to roll the dice. At the bottom of the stairs I could see a dimly lit hallway with many doors to secluded rooms. I could hear loud music playing from some of them, and thought I heard faint grunts. This must be it. At this point I was so intensely nervous that I could feel a bead of sweat travel down my back. I chose a booth at random and entered.

The booth was dimly lit, but larger than it looked from the outside. There was a bench that faced a covered glass partition. A curtain separated me from the booth next door that had what I assumed was the same set up. Next to the covered glass partition was a slot like you’d see at a vending machine to insert money. A small taped hand written sign informed me that the show would start for $20.

I fumbled in my wallet and took out $20 and placed it in the slot. To my surprise there wasn’t the familiar machine sound followed by the bill smoothly disappearing into the machine. Instead a fast swipe, as if done by hand. The sheet covering the partition lifted and I could see a half naked woman on the other side. She winked at me and tossed the $20 she just took into a bag on the side of the stage.

Looking to my right and left I could see that the other rooms all faced this stage and I presumed there was another stage with another show on the other side of the hallway.

The girl was exactly what you would expect to find in a porn store basement. High-heels, overly done make up, fake tits, and tattoos. Not to say she wasn’t attractive. She looked vaguely Eastern European, was lean, and had a nice ass. While I don’t love fake tits, hers were nicely done and at least a large C cup. She was definitely someone you would fuck, but clearly had been doing this work for too many years. “Used up” is a phrase that came to mind. She danced and shook her hips for me and presumably the other guests, giving a very personal strip show.

Her ample ass was covered by white lingerie, and she slid her hands over the waist line suggestively. I sat and watched dumbly, shifting uncomfortably with my growing erection. She smiled as she watched me rub my cock through my pants and spoke for the first time.

“It’s ok baby, you can get comfortable.”

Catching her meaning, I undid my zipper and slid my jeans partially down my thighs. My cock sprung to attention and surprised her. “Oh, so big.”

I smiled, although I’m sure thats what she said to all the guests. But she was right. If I was proud of one thing, it was my dick. 10 inches when hard and as thick as a can of red bull. My dick had earned a reputation at school and brought many curious girls to my door.

I stroked for the stripper, half out of being horny and half as a way to show her I was enjoying the show. She danced and pulled her panties down, exposing her pussy to me. She seductively slid her fingers over her slit, and rubbed her tits. It was pretty hot and made the strip club stage shows seem tame by comparison.