Marylin's Nostalgia

Marylin strained against the wrought iron door, fighting the bitter winds of winter just outside. It finally clicked into place and she slumped against it, breathing heavily. The mostly abandoned tenement building was more or less how she remembered it, wide open rooms with high ceilings that had been cleared out long ago.

For the better half of a year she had been trying to make something work. She had no interest in settling down just yet, but a serious relationship was something that she wanted quite a bit. She'd met people at work, on campus, on social outings with friends...hell, when all else failed, she had even joined a dating site, though it didn't make her proud. He had been nice enough, and she didn't even mind that he'd wanted to take things slow. But it was frustrating when he'd gotten cold feet and broken up with her within a week.

She had kind of just wanted to get laid already. A deep, psychological and emotional connection with another human being would be wonderful, of course, but since that didn't seem like an option...

There was a place, out in the city, where people came when they wanted to be a little more...adventurous. Being out here alone wasn't exactly the safest thing in the world, but honestly, the slight crawl of dread in the pit of her stomach just made her all the more excited. And yes, Marylin would be the first to admit she was a bit strange. But then again, who wasn't these days?

(Up on the third floor there was a wall.)

She climbed the stairs now, anticipation building palpably with each step.

(A very thin wall.)

She tried to breathe evenly, telling herself that she'd be fine, that she'd done this before.

(And behind that wall was a curiously small room, made even more curious by the fact that it had only one way in. Through a padlocked trap door.)

Sweat broke out on her forehead, and her winter clothes now felt oppressively hot. She didn't take them off though.

(There was a hole in that wall, down near the floor. A clean cut circle, only a couple of inches across.)

And then she opened the door at the top of the stairs. The claustrophobic corridor stretched out before her, the threshold to that room at the end of it. She took a few shaky, hesitant steps...and then sprinted the rest of the way because the suspense could go fuck itself.

Upon throwing open that last door, most of her greater fears dissolved. Though there appeared to be no one inside, the calming, ambient noise of men chatting about their days confirmed a significant human presence. They discussed various 'the games' (as in, did you catch 'the game' last night man, it was pretty intense): your footballs, your basketballs; there was even brief mention of someone's favorite hockey team. They talked about morning commutes, about vacation plans; nieces, nephews, and of course children were brought up.

And wives.

Marylin tried not to judge them. This technically wasn't cheating, since true unfaithfulness was just as much emotional as it was physical. And here there were literal walls between you. Sometimes you just needed to escape. She could understand that.

She cleared her throat. "Um...hello?" She couldn't quite tell how many there were, although the volume they had produced collectively gave her some impression...which only became more pronounced as they quieted down to greet the newcomer.

"Uh...hey," One of them said.

"How's...it going?" An awkward second added.

"Fine, thank you," She replied courteously. "And yourselves?"

"...It must have been hell coming out in this," A man with a slightly raspy voice said.

She laughed politely. "Yeah, well, I only live a block or two down, so it wasn't that big of a deal. And it's not like I didn't come prepared." She clapped her ridiculously insulated jacket with faux pride, only to remember half a second later that no one could see her.

Another man spoke then, sounding younger and slightly more energetic: "You know it's supposed to snow all the way through to Monday, right?"

"So much for going home for the weekend, I guess," The first man replied.

"And we're gonna be getting about three feet before it's all over."

"Holy fucking shit! Three feet? And we all came out here to get blowjobs."

Everyone laughed enthusiastically then, including Marylin. It felt slightly better now that someone had acknowledged it.

"Then again, we aren't really gonna get hit until tomorrow night, so we should be fine for the time being." There was a general consensus that this was a good thing.

"So you said you live in the area, right?" A new voice this time, his was low-pitched and charismatic. Perfect for radio, she thought.

"Yeah. I didn't grow up here, but I go to Penn State as a grad student."

"Really? My little sister goes to Penn. What's your focus?"

"Psychology. It's real interesting stuff. Not sure if I'm gonna do anything with it, but I wouldn't want to study anything else, to be honest...what's your sister's name? Maybe I know her."

"Samantha?"

"Samantha..."

"Garcia."

"...I think she's in my Tuesday morning. How about that? She's not a close friend or anything, but I've definitely talked with her a few times."

"She tells me she likes it there. Good people...good teachers. I should think about going back to school one of these days. I kinda miss it."

Following this, the room was quiet. Most of them probably trying to come up with a topic of conversation. Perhaps there were some, like the ones who hadn't spoken yet, who were merely impatient—if they were even there at all—but she wanted to believe they were a minority. It seemed most of them wanted—she certainly did—to keep talking a little longer, to keep things civil.

She remembered the first time she had been here, when she was only sixteen. Or, at least, she had attempted to get in. It had been snowing then too.

Her best friend in High School had told her all about this place that even she had only heard of secondhand. From college kids that she knew, and from older cousins. And, of course, being a curious and hormonal young girl, Marylin had gone to discover it on her own—to try to find out what it was like to be an adult.

When she had arrived at those intimidating, double iron doors, the first thing she noticed—well, aside from the doors—was an unusually tall woman sitting on the ground in front of them, knees drawn up to her torso. And Marylin could tell that she was tall, because even sitting she was almost staring her right in the eyes. Which were open by the way, although they didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. Instead they just stared straight ahead, as if she wasn't aware of the girl's presence.

The woman had long lustrous brown hair that fell down around her thick frame, her skin lightly tanned. Around her neck she wore a lengthy, fiery crimson tie that fell to her...sizable chest. This was contrasted heavily by a fine business suit and slacks of the darkest fabric she had even seen. She had told herself that the clothing was black, but inexplicably, the borders of the material were somehow lost to her, somewhere outside the visible spectrum. It was like she was dressed in shadows.

As her younger self approached, she was nervously running through what she was going to say. Just as she opened her mouth to speak though, the woman's head snapped around and greeted her with cold brown eyes.

"You aren't old enough," Was all that she'd said, to which the young Marylin hadn't known quite how to respond to, needless to say. Flustered, she'd managed to stutter out an indignant rebuttal.

"Ex-CUSE me?! Are you discriminating against me because of my height? I'm a lot older than I look, and I don't think it's very professional of you to be turning away potential clients looking to—"

"You aren't old enough."

The woman had stood then, reaching her full height and towering above her, white powder falling in clumps from her shifting form. And something about the look in her eyes, about the tone of her voice, had made Marylin back away slowly, legs reduced to quavering mush. She walked all the way home that day, staring straight ahead.

...Of course, that didn't stop her from defiantly returning two years later. That time the woman had let her in—without a word between them—and Marylin had climbed all three flights of stairs to find no one there. She had been back since though, several times throughout her twenties, when there were lulls in her love life. Each time encountering a different, often interesting group of people.

And she was here again now. She breathed in heavily and released the air in an irregular exhalation. Her cheeks burned red. Her thighs were wet. She would never be comfortable with this part, no matter how many times she did it. And she was eternally grateful for that.

"...So. Who's first?"

The pause preceding that made her feel even more uncomfortable, if that was a thing.

"Me, I guess," The younger man spoke.

Marylin nodded and stepped forward to kneel in front of the hole. She rummaged through her thousand coat pockets, looking for the pack of condoms she had brought with her. There they were. She removed her heavy clothing soon after, having no interest of dying from heatstroke. The rest of the room's occupants fell silent, giving them some space.

"I guess you must have been waiting for a while now, huh?" She asked, opening the tiny cardboard box.

"I was here for a couple of hours," Young Guy—she was just going to call him that from now on, for lack of a better name— said. "I was actually heavily considering leaving before you showed up. Glad I didn't now."

The one really shitty thing about this place, she recalled, was the complete and total lack of any organized system. You'd have to commit to wasting half your day, banking on the remote possibility of some stranger arriving to sweep you off your feet...so to speak. Or, if you wanted to be on the giving end, you could show up to an empty room, as she knew all too well.

She had taken one of the condoms out from the packaging and opened the plastic wrapping carefully, realizing only then that she'd not heard the sound of a zipper, or even shifting clothes.

"So...should I just stick it through then?" He asked.

"Be my guest," She said with a bit of a smirk. "Don't let me rush you."

"I'm sorry. I'm a bit inexperienced."

"Don't worry about it," At least he wasn't any more confident than she was. "...But how inexperienced? Have you done this before?"

"No, this is my first time."

His words were frustratingly ambiguous. "So...are you a virgin?"

"I had a girlfriend a while back. We had sex once, but I didn't last very long—as you might imagine."

"Well, just try to relax, okay? Don't worry about performing and just enjoy yourself. And I mean, you can always get back in line. I can't guarantee I'll still be here later, but..." She was going over all of the things that she'd been told once. To calm both of them down. Well, except for the part about getting back in line.

With that she heard the distinctive note of a belt unbuckling, followed by the descent of a fly. Shortly after, he passed his erection through the opening. Ah. As it turned out, Young Guy was a man of average length, albeit darker than she was used to; there was a deep, rich blackness to his member that ended in a rosier, circumcised head. Skin color was certainly not a thing that mattered to her, but it was an aesthetic difference all the same, and every man in the world was distinctive in some way or another. Beautiful differences that only fueled her passion. As mentioned previously, Marylin had a certain affinity for the male genitalia.

She positioned the rubber ring around the tip of his penis, pinching the top and rolling it slowly down his head. Her mouth couldn't help but moisten a little when she saw his pre-cum smeared messily against the transparent material. Neither of them spoke a word, both too invested in the moment. She applied it delicately, not wanting to stimulate him too much so early. However, the taut latex clung to his skin at intervals and made it difficult not to. The last inch or two she needed to pull back, stretching it down to grip the base.

Her face jerked backwards, pressurized jets of white shooting towards her. Or at least it seemed that way. Volley after volley of provoked orgasm splattered harmlessly against the head of the condom and pooled, amassing to a dangling bubble of murky cream. Marylin prodded the pliant orb, lifting it with her tongue and letting it drop. She wanted very much to bite down on the fragile rubber and have it all gush out over her molars—she wanted to—but she knew better.

"...Sorry," She said finally. "I can't help but feeling that was my fault. You warned me beforehand and everything."

"No, it's fine," Young Guy replied. "It was pretty much what I was expecting."

And although she felt bad for him, she found she very much enjoyed premature ejaculation. Or at least the concept of it. Sure, it was almost never a pleasant experience for the guy, but she couldn't help but love the spontaneity of it and the rawness of its expression. She always considered it something of a compliment. It was just unfortunate that its implications were so...final.

"...Just, practice some more on your own, okay?" She stroked his limp meat with affectionate slowness. "Get a fleshlight or something."

"Sure. Um, I'm sure this is a stupid question, but do you want your condom back?"

She laughed. "Keep it, I guess. As a souvenir." She watched him withdraw and disappear from sight. Guilt nagged at her and she stopped him, before he could rejoin the others: "Wait. I'm gonna try to be back here the same time next week. Then we can try again, okay?"

"If I can manage that I'd love to join you again...ma'am."

"Maybe I'll actually get you inside my mouth next time," She said, attempting a playful tone that only kind of paid off. But before she could even really comprehend him leaving, someone else had stepped up to take his place.

"How's it going?" The guy with the charismatic voice asked.

"Not bad," She replied.

With that, Radio Man—it really was a reliable naming convention— stuck his cock through the hole. He was much shorter in stature than her last companion, though likely more difficult to fit one's lips around. His skin was a lighter, creamier brown, and it hung down past the tip of his erection. She pulled it back before she engulfed his dick in another protective sleeve; she dressed this one swiftly and painlessly, still half-expecting it to burst at the touch.

Marylin sucked in air and passed the head between her lips. Her eyelids drifted closed, her mouth producing an excess of saliva before he had even made contact with her tongue. It was very similar to the reaction one had right before that precious first, virgin handful of Doritos. Contrary to popular belief, there was nothing inferior about smaller penises. She proved that in one swift motion, effortlessly sliding the rest of his plump width inside. His sensitive glans rested comfortably on the back of her tongue, glazed in lethargic drool. When you didn't have to worry about whether you could fit it all in or not, it freed up so much precious time to focus on technique. There wasn't all that much to work with, but then again, that's when you could get creative.

She withdrew him and wrapped both hands around his base, lacing her fingers over it. They covered a lot of ground on their own, but Radio Man's dripping cockhead peered beyond the thick enclosure of her hands. Pressing the flat of her tongue against it, she rotated the flesh between her hands gently to one side and then the other.

"How is she?" The one from before, 'Raspy Voice' asked. "Uh, shit, I mean, how is she doing?"

She reserved herself to short flicks of stimulation that brushed against his skin teasingly.

"Amazing," Radio Man replied, and then to her: "You have some incredible talent."

"Thanks," She managed in-between licks.

"I didn't mean any offense, miss," Raspy again. "But I'm a bit of an older guy, so I guess some of that chauvinism is just in my genes."

She didn't really mind, but she appreciated the sentiment. Her twisting and molding was much more rapid now.

"It's fine." She stiffened her tongue, making the slightest of contacts with trembling flesh.

"I call next though, alright?"

Radio Man's cum issued forth in steady, oozing sequences. It flowed forth gradually, running down the sides of the condom. She removed the spent covering, grabbing it delicately between her teeth. Once safely secured, she tossed it behind her where it landed with a wet smack. Drops of unfiltered semen fell to the floor understatedly as he withdrew, and again Marylin had to resist the urge to scoop the softening meat into her mouth and let it drain its contents...or even to clean the mess that had already been made.

She heard him unironically wish Raspy Voice luck as he went back to join the others.

"I'm sorry I'm so goddamn talkative," Her next guest muttered. "I'm sure that's not distracting or anything."

He passed his length through the gap, displaying his long, unusually slender dick that angled itself subtly downward towards the end. He wasn't cut, but the strength of his arousal pulled his foreskin back along his head. A few tufts of coarse, scraggly black hair poked through the hole back by his pelvis. He was white, and did appear considerably older than her: maybe middle aged, or a little more.

"No, of course not," She replied in protest. "I enjoy the company, I really do. Please, everyone, feel free to speak among yourselves! Feels weird when we're all just silent."

Everyone, unfortunately, did not take her up on her offer. She stared straight ahead, and her heart started up again like before, pounding against her chest.

"...You're...long," She finally acknowledged. And to reiterate, he was indeed. If what she could see was all of him, it was at least a good ten inches. If not more. Not the longest she had ever seen, but there were few others that came to mind.

"...Yeah, I guess so, huh?" He chuckled nervously. In her personal experience it was almost always the ones you least expected. In short, not the guys who were constantly bragging and building themselves up. She put a hand around his somewhat thinner base to hold him steady while she fished another condom from the box. And of course, the reliable, sturdy material stretched all the way to his crotch. If only the human body was as elastic. She took a deep breath.

"I'm gonna try to get it all," She said, projecting more confidence than she actually felt. "I won't make any promises, but..."

He was silent, awkwardness radiating from beyond the wall.

"Are you ready?" She asked.

"...Yeah."

Marylin paced herself, allowing her body to relax before attempting anything too drastic. She stroked the lower portion with her hand while it was still beyond her depth. She guided the rest of him inside her mouth, her tongue lolling, her lips open wide and lax—before they pursed around his circumference and slid back towards herself, tongue trailing the underside of his erection. The act of fellatio, for her, had always been one of ecstasy and overspilling lust. The heat, the pressure. The discomfort. She loved it all. And though she could not taste the intoxicating mix of salt, sweat and raw flesh in the name of safe sex, she could feel the warmth of his entire body against the roof of her mouth, and fill her nostrils with the pungent musk of maleness. She paused, deliberately, before allowing his cock to slip from her mouth and hang freely. She bathed it in hot breath and planted a soft kiss on its helm before resuming her former pattern.