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His dreams realized.

I continued to message her, my hand pushed the thin material between her cheeks - my excitement built higher and higher until I was dripping inside my pants. Knowing that there were other eyes on us added more to our arousal than I had imagined. Here I was, my hand between the cheeks of my wife's ass, her hips rocking gently back and forth, the skirt swaying, stirred to the rhythm of our movement. She leaned towards me, her lips against my neck, her breath beating fast against my skin.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I whispered.

"Let's just pick a booth and go inside," she whispered back. I was all too eager to comply. We picked the one we were standing in front of, stepped inside, closed the door and locked it. Almost instantly we heard the creak of doors on either side.

The dark, like a pitch blanket, swept over us. In close quarters our senses seemed amplified. I could hear every rustle of Elizabeth's skirt. I was awash in her smell, lost in the feel of her hair against my face. The gentle creak of a bench in one of the adjoining booths seemed loud; her body pressed to mine so that I could feel the bulge in my pants press against her hip. A whisper.

"Listen..."

Again came the creaking sound, brittle and dry. Then silence.

"Take my skirt off."

I fumbled, found the catch, my heart like a hammer in my ears. I held the garment in my hands, knowing that from the waist down she was clothed only in the dark. The bench behind her accepted my offering of her skirt.

Her back to me, my hands gripped her firm, rounded hips. I could feel my cock straining against my zipper. I longed to plunge myself deep inside her, to feel her hot wetness engulf me, but that wasn't the whole of our plan. She backed against me, crushed her ass against my hips, playing, rocking back and forth until I thought I would burst. Her head tilted back - another whisper.

"I'll bet they're trying to see in here, why don't you give them a little light?"

Tokens spilled from my trembling hand, scattered across the floor with little ting-ting sounds that seemed deafening. I reaching forward, searching, found the coin slot - the light exploded outward, flickered across Elizabeth's skin like candlelight in a gentle breeze. Awed, I watched the shadows caress her ankles, up the curve of calf and the soft smooth arc of her thigh. It felt like seeing her for the first time, like she was someone else - hot and wicked, performing for the crowd. Her breasts, outlined by the light behind her, strained against her blouse like ripe and heavy fruit waiting to be picked and devoured.

I gave a passing glance to the screen, typical porn: too close, no faces, mechanical, devoid of real passion - it didn't matter. I searched the tiny space; the black walls on either side were broken by two well-worn holes in the heavily painted plywood. I ran my hands over her hot flesh, drew her close. More creaking benches in the adjoining booths. My turn to whisper.

"Can you hear them?"

She gave me a gentle squeeze.

"Yes"

Her fingers worked my zipper, tugged at the button on my pants.

"They could be watching us, you know..."

"Yes."

She worked my pants over my hips, tugged my boxers to my ankles. Her hand wrapped around me and began to pump the shaft with lazy strokes, every motion bringing more blood to swell and stretch the sensitive skin. She sank to her knees - her head turned to the left and then to the right, her dark hair grazed the tip - a thick spider web of pre-come caught in her tresses as she peered into the next booth through the glory-hole. A wicked smile played across her features and I read her lips as she mouthed the words.

They're watching...

Her lips, warm and wet, enveloped me.

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