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Betty in the Booth

I met Betty at the carnival, where she worked a ticket booth at one of the 'thrill' rides. I was the local electrician for the carnival, so I was there when they unloaded everything from the trucks and put
the thing together. Betty's ticket booth was in place before I had finished my job. Bright red, about seven-and-a-half feet tall and with little more than three feet by three feet of space inside, the booth's ticket window was outlined by a string of little blue bulbs.

As I finished wiring the booth up, I met Betty for the first time. "Ready?" Betty questions me. Betty, about 21, is a true goddess, she standing there in her short, tight black skirt, purple blouse. If a man were to take his hands and place one above her breasts, one on her upper back and slowly slide them down to her feet, he would feel strong, firm curves, hard and perfect ass, a flat stomach, silky slender legs... "All wired," I say to her. Betty enters, flips on the booth's switch. Tame blue lights outline the window. She enters, waving her hand at somebody standing in the evening's shadows. A muscular man of about 30 walks through the shadows and into the booth, stands behind Betty. I can only see Betty's face and her breasts in
the booth's small window, her long curly blonde hair stroked back by her hands. The man closes the door behind him, forcing him up against Betty's ass. Betty stops stroking her hair, removes her blouse and bra. Her tits are pointed, her breasts resting on the little platform beneath the ticket window. "Let's see how it works, then," Betty addressing me but signaling the man pressed against her. 

In the blue light of the window, I see Betty's expression change to raw excitement as the man raises her skirt from behind, tosses her panties out the window and towards me. Her head slightly forward now,
blonde hair falling over her face, she's obviously slamming herself into the cock that's forced inside her. "Harder, deeper, up my cunt," she moans to him while looking at me. "Bitch," he says, "you never get enough cock, do you?" Betty's response is to brace herself against the booth's front and slam her ass harder into the man, forcing his cock deeper inside her. "No, never enough cock," she taunts him, she till looking right at me. "And you always have to be fucked in this little booth," he says to her. "Always," she says. 
"I like tight, hard fucks and the smell of male cum. This place provides it all," she laughs. The
force of his cock driving up her cunt shakes the little booth. The sound of his balls slapping against her firm ass echoes right out the window. She's taking all of him, her hips forcing him back against the wall of the booth so his cock can't escape from her cunt. Over 15 minutes of being fucked from behind in the little booth goes by before the man cums in her, shouting "Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!" over and over as he pumps all
he has up her cunt.

The man back in the distant shadows again, Betty says to me, "Come see the inside of my booth." I agree, not having had to enter the booth to wire it up. Betty's skirt is in place again, she still nude from the waist up. The floor of the tiny booth is coated with old cum stains. The cum stains cover the floor almost completely and are obviously deep--cum on top of cum. One gob of new cum is visible behind her. She sees me staring at the new cum, says, "I like to reach between my legs and squeeze all the cum out of their
cocks right as the men are pulling out of me, so some of their cum will fall on the floor of my booth." She tells me she likes to 'collect' cum in that way. The aroma of the cum is strong, ingrained in the booth. 

"I like the way you look at me when I'm being fucked," Betty tells me. "I'd like you to watch me getting fucked as often as you can." She doesn't want me to fuck her, though, as that would "spoil the whole
mood." 

I was at that carnival for over two hours that night, watching Betty's face as she was being fucked by eight different men. She looking out the booth's window at me each time, her face in ecstasy as their cocks were pumping cum inside her, me sitting there on a bench in front of the booth, encouraging her to "fuck that cock dry." I saw Betty go into climax at least four times. Betty told me later that she came more from enjoying me watch her get fucked than from the cocks inside her. Betty was in love with watching the watcher (me) watch, so to speak. She enjoyed watching me watch her get fucked even more than she liked those eight cocks driving up her cunt, dropping their cum on her booth's floor. I enjoyed coaching the men to "cum in her again," they complying by performing two times each for her. The floor of the ticket booth
was slippery with cum after everybody--but me--was satisfied that night. Eight men with sore cocks, drained completely of cum, Betty climaxing four times, the floor of the booth with a new coating of
cum throughout...

Outside the booth now--finally--her black skirt sweaty, soaking up cum from between her legs, her blouse back on, Betty says to me, "I really want you around here often but for turning me on with your watching only. If you fucked me it would never be the same again. Your eyes shining at me, the way your mouth turns up at one corner as the guys fuck me--your shouts of 'Fuck her. Fuck her!'--are so sensual, so spell-binding that I could cum from the sight and sound of that alone!! I usually don't fuck THAT many guys at one time, but I couldn't stop tonight, from you watching me! "I realize it must be a bit frustrating for you,
though," Betty, with slow, sultry voice says to me, "not fucking me yourself." She's right, of course, my prick rock-hard for nearly four hours now. "But you not cumming the whole time all those men were fucking me is SUCH a turn-on for me!! It's like you were sacrificing all your sexual needs to please me!! 
I LOVE that idea!!"

Betty loved the idea that I watched her get fucked for over two hours by eight different men while not getting to fuck her myself and "sacrificing" my sexual needs in the process so much that she asked me
to leave right then and come back the next night right after the carnival closed...so we could do it all over again... I LOVED the whole concept TOO!! I realized. Back at my house that night, my prick throbbing, I
jerked off three times in 12 minutes. 

And was back at the carnival right at closing time the next night... Watching Betty's face through the window of the ticket booth, her silky blonde hair falling over her face, her tits pointed with anticipation...I
realize, this second time here, that the arrangement will be for as long as Betty desires it to be. Her eyes half-closed but intense in my direction as the men fuck her--six of them this night--hold me captive as her permanent 'watcher,' which now excites me more than if I fucked her myself. This need of mine to see her satisfied is overwhelming. On her sixth fuck partner, a tall black man who barely fits within the booth, Betty tells me that his cock is so long and wide inside her that he can only fuck her with slight movements
in the tight space. "Lift her up, brace her against the front of the booth, " I coach the black man, "so you have more room to fuck her." The black man lifts Betty up almost a foot off the floor, bracing her against the booth's front, as he rams his cock so hard and fast in Betty's cunt that she screams with pleasure. "Ahhhh, it feels like you're fucking me with a flagpole!!" she yells at him, the top of her head now level with the window's upper limit. "Don't stop, DON'T STOP," she keeps demanding of the black man. He fucks her like that for about 10 minutes before cumming in her with a load of cum so big and hot that Betty moans that "It BURNS!! It BURNS!!" After the black man leaves, I'm allowed into the booth to see all the new cum on the floor. It's so slick in there from the cum that I almost fall. I also notice that cum runs down both of Betty's legs, the black man having pumped more inside her than there was room for her to
accommodate. Betty's skirt, a red mini this night, is spotted with cum stains. Betty, standing there with
her eyes glazed from satisfaction from being fucked, cum oozing down both of her legs, her mini stained from the cum of six different men, the floor of the booth slick with what she squeezed out of their pricks
after they came in her, says in a soft voice to me, "How would you like to marry me?" "I NEED you to watch me get fucked," she says. Two weeks later, three years ago, we wed.

The bright red ticket booth is a center piece in our living room now. Not much else has changed. Betty still gets her fucking by various men in that ticket--cum booth--while I watch from the living room couch and jerk myself off under a towel so Betty does not see my cock. I asked her once, right after our marriage, if I could cut the bottom or back away from the booth so I could watch all that dick she takes sliding in and out of her cunt, but she said "No, that would destroy the mood, too," because I would be watching her cunt instead of looking her right in the eyes as she got fucked. Three years wed to Betty and I've never fucked her, never even seen her naked below the waist. Since we're married, she's fucked other men in that booth at least 400 times, though. The cum still piling up inside the booth.

As it is, I no longer desire to fuck her, the watcher in me my full personality now. My desire to please Betty my greatest need. My coaching of the men in the booth with her is exciting to me too: "Shove yourself into her," I tell the one in the booth with her now, "spread her cheeks so she can get more of you in her." He responds well to the advice I witness, as Betty moans faster and louder now, his cock obviously deeper in her. I coach Betty to move her hips side-to-side, as she's being fucked so hard and fast that she
can't respond with her own backward thrusts, the hip movement meant to provide her and the man with even more pleasure, this coaching of her another of my pleasures. Betty's face takes on the customary aura
of satisfaction as the man finally cums in her: her eyes, glazed but never leaving mine, her mouth half open, her blonde hair tossed, her tits hard, excited. "Don't take your cock out of her too fast," I tell the man who's just shot his cum up my wife's cunt. "She wants what's left over for her 'collection.'" The man just makes
an ahhh sound as Betty squeezes his cock of remaining cum as he pulls it out of her, the cum drops audibly hitting the floor of the ticket booth centered in the quiet room...

Coaching my wife on how to receive the most pleasure from other men's cocks, instructing the guys fucking her in the booth on how to get more of their pricks, their cum up her cunt...and, of course,
watching her face in the window of the ticket booth as she rides the tide of multiple orgasms from the
fucking she's getting at the time, seems to BE my sexual release these days, I think... But, than, what man would or should require more??

(c) Greg Smith 1998
All Rights Reserved