When Cindi and I lived in Chicago, we'd fly to New York City twice a year on business, and to see if we could scare up something trippy. Trippy is a word Cindi, and I used to describe a sexy experience between us, or with someone else.

Sometimes we succeeded, sometimes not, but we always had fun. We'd have diner, then walk along 42nd Street looking for a porn movie.

On one trip, we found a porn and sex show emporium advertising 'Live Sex Shows'. Naturally, we went in. The first floor, filled with peep-show booths, toys, books, and movies, looked interesting, but we wanted to see the 'live sex show'. We found a sign with an arrow pointing up a flight of stairs and the words 'Live Sex Show'. We paid the admission, climbed the stairs, and came to two rooms. The one directly ahead said 'Live Sex Show'. The one on our right said, 'Kink Room'.

"I wonder what goes on in there?" I said and pointed to the Kink Room.

"Come on," Cindi said. "We'll find out later."

I followed her into the 'live sex show' room.

There was a small stage against the far wall surrounded by four tiers of wooden seats. Most of them filled with men, their eyes locked on the well-hung black man who was trying to fuck a pretty, blonde white girl. She was doing her part, but the man was not responding. His cock hung between his muscular thighs like a limp kielbasa.

"There's two," Cindi whispered and pointed to two seats on the first tier facing the stage. As we made our way to the seats, the men's eyes shifted to Cindi in her black mini skirt, white deep, vee neck top (sans bra), and black, calf-high boots. The black performer looked over and smiled, but he still wasn't getting hard.

We sat down to watch the show. After a couple of minutes, without anything happening, Cindi started getting antsy.

"Looks like he could use a little help."

She pulled up her skirt until it barely covered the triangle of dark hair at the top of her thighs and spread her legs. An angled mirror at the back of the stage provided evidence of what Cindi was doing. Many of the men's hands covered the growing bulge in their pants. One young guy, off to our right, wasn't worried about being discreet. He had his cock out and was furiously beating off.

"Looks like you've got an admirer," I whispered and nodded toward the guy.

"Finger me," Cindi whispered.

I reached over, slipped two fingers into Cindi's gaping, wet pussy, and began finger fucking her. The young guy matched my movements stroke for stroke. He appeared ready to get off when a security guard tapped him on the shoulder and shook his head. The guy quickly tucked himself away, got up, and walked out.

I kept my fingers where they were and waited to see if the guard was going to say anything. He looked over, smiled, and returned to where he was standing. When I looked at the stage, the black performer's eyes were watching what I was doing. His was rock hard and pounding his partner like she was the last pussy he'd ever fuck. I removed my fingers, held up four, and slid them back in. It was all the black performer needed. He came in a series of body shuttering jerks, accompanied by loud moans, then fell limply onto his partner. She didn't seem pleased. She pushed him off, grabbed her towel, and stalked off the stage. The black performer shrugged his shoulders in a whatever gesture, wrapped a towel around his waist, and walked over.

"Thanks for the help," he said and shook my hand.

Cindi smiled and said, "Anytime." The performer was turning to leave but stopped when Cindi said, "Before you go, I have a question. Who can we talk to if my boyfriend and I want to put on a show?"

"The manager, but you need a SAG (Screen Actors Guild) card to perform."

"Thanks, we'll look into it. Maybe we'll see you the next time we're in the city."

"I'd like that," the man said before walking away.

We waited for the next act but decided to leave when a stripper walked on stage.

"What now?" I said.

"Let's see what's in the 'Kink Room'."

Cindi and I walked out of the porn room and into the Kink Room followed by a good portion of the audience. The Kink Room was darker than the sex theater, but about the same size. On the wall opposite the door, a movie screen, showing a B&D film, hung down from the naked rafters. Rows of wooden chairs in front of the screen were scattered helter-skelter. B&D wasn't big on Cindi's or my list of turn-ons, but we decided to stay. I was dragging two chairs to the center of the room when I glanced up. The doorway and back wall were jammed with men.

I nudged Cindi. "Check the rear wall. It looks like we got groupies."

Cindi turned and muttered, "Holy shit! What do we do now?"

"Give them a show."

Cindi reached for the zipper on my jeans. "Why don't I give you a blow job?"

I stopped her hand. "Because the security guard would probably throw us out, but I have an idea. I turned one of the chairs around and said, "Sit down."

Cindi sat facing the men with her legs spread. I knelt between them, lifted her skirt, and lowered my head. She tasted salty. I was getting into licking and kissing when she tapped me on the shoulder, pointed to her left, and said, “Look over there.”

I looked where she was pointing and saw a middle-aged man sitting in a chair holding a length of rope. He tied himself to the chair, untied himself, and repeated the procedure.

"Weird," I muttered. Then I thought, what gives me (a cuckold) the right to question what turns someone else on.

Before returning to Cindi's pussy, I checked our audience. They'd moved closer. I didn't want them to get too close, but Cindi was pleading and moaning. I forgot about our audience, lowered my head, and buried my face between Cindi's soft, wet thighs. She grabbed my head and thrust herself against my mouth. I couldn't and didn't want to move, but I was having trouble breathing. I was about to pull back when Cindi jammed her pussy against my face and let out a series of loud, penetrating moans. Silent sex was not one of Cindi's strong suits. I kept licking until she released my head and slumped against the chair. I sat back and heard loud applause.

"That was incredible," Cindi sighed.

I stood up, wiped my hand across my soaking wet beard, and waved to our audience. Cindi did the same.

When the men realized the show was over, they started drifting away. The guy with the ropes continued doing his thing as we walked past and headed down the stairs. We were on our way out when Cindi grabbed my arm and pointed to a guy going from peep-show booth to peep-show booth.

"Isn't that the guy who was playing with himself upstairs?"

"It could be, why?"

"It looks like he's having a hard time deciding."

"So?"

"I think I'll see if I can help. Okay?"

I knew how Cindi wanted to help, and I could feel the butterflies. They always appear when Cindi's doing or about to do something trippy.

"Sure, go ahead." I leaned against a booth and watched Cindi approach the guy. She talked for a couple of minutes, glanced at me with a devilish smirk, and followed the guy into the booth. I don't wear a watch, but the butterflies didn’t care, they continued fluttering until the door opened and the guy walked out. He didn't look one way or another but headed straight for the exit. Cindi came out a minute later.

I hurried over. "How did it go?"

"He didn't last long, but it was still trippy."

"So, what happened?"

"I told him, 'I saw what happened upstairs and was wondering if you still wanted to get off'? He seemed interested but apprehensive."

"What changed his mind?"

"When I told him I wasn't a hooker, just someone looking for fun."

"He said, 'Okay, but I probably won't last long'."

"That's okay. My boyfriend will take care of me when we get home." I didn't want any questions, so I reached down and grabbed his cock. His eyes went wide, and he couldn't open the door quickly enough. Before it closed, his cock was out, and he was reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a condom, slipped it on, and told me to bend over. He stepped behind me, flipped up my skirt, and plunged in. I was so wet I hardly felt him. It was over in less than a minute. He peeled off the rubber, dropped it in the wastebasket, tucked himself away, and walked out the door. Talk about feeling like a hooker. I didn't even get his name."

"Yea, but you like that."

A coy smile parted Cindi's red lips. "You're right, I do."