tagLoving WivesThe Glory Hole

The Glory Hole

bySkei0©

The cock was not my husbands, that much was certain. It was black for a start, and though it was flaccid, it appeared large as it dangled, disconnected, through the circular opening cut into the wall of the discretely lit booth in which I sat. I licked my lips nervously. My husband and I had been married for nearly a decade and in that time I had never been unfaithful, what's more until recently I'd never even considered having sex with another man. Yet here I was my heart racing as my eyes examined the sleeping beast before me, transfixed. It was not that I'd never seen another man's cock before, although it was true that I hadn't seen many; but I had never before been afforded the opportunity to give a stranger's such intimate scrutiny without its owner knowing.

I bent towards it, fascination overcoming my natural inhibitions and as my face neared the smooth flesh, it seemed somehow less inanimate, alive. I pondered reaching out to it, and my fingers twitched, but though sensing my thoughts the organ pulsed and I recoiled, suddenly guilty as my sense of propriety was reasserted; but I did not retreat far. I was curious to see it grow, but I was hesitant because I was afraid of awakening it, so instead I watched and waited, breathlessly willing it to rouse of its own volition.

These were unusual circumstances for me; I was in a club with my husband, which we had visited for the first time just a few weeks previously. It was called the Glory Hole. The club had a sexual agenda with its patrons coming to enjoy a raunchy cabaret which was hosted at weekends. The main hall of the club was cavernous, a dimly lit amphitheatre with tiered rows of high backed leather sofas each with sweeping arms which discretely encircled their occupants like luxury fairground Waltzer cars, each orientated toward the central stage on which the voyeuristic action took place. All across the hall, dozens of serving staff diligently attended their guests, ferrying drinks and snacks to them and flitting gracefully through the spaces between the seating booths, unashamed of their near nakedness.

As well as the staged cabaret shows, the club was also renowned for the phenomenon from which its name was derived -- it's famous glory holes. These were specially designed rows of cubicles which were located at the rear of the hall, parallel to and sandwiched between the ladies bathrooms on one side and the men's on the other. Inside the well-appointed bathrooms, numbered toilet cubicles occupied one side of the rectangular space. Patrons entering the cubicles could be merely attending to their sanitary needs, however they might also choose to lift aside the heavy curtain at the rear of the cubicle and step into the small room beyond, a second cubicle isolated from the toilet by the heavy curtain and backing onto the correspondingly numbered glory hole located in the bathroom of the opposing sex. Dimly lit and fully enclosed, containing only a leather upholstered chaise longue in one corner and with a single hole cut into the rear wall, the glory holes encouraged the attendance of other needs.

It was in one such cubicle that I now sat. It was my second visit, the first being the week before, after my husband's convincing and after an erotic stage show and too much wine had left me feeling too aroused and too uninhibited to refuse. Perhaps at the memory of that event -- my husband's cock presenting through the hole in the wall, entering my mouth as I greedily milked it -- I felt my arousal heighten, even as I studied the stranger's cock before me. I wondered where my husband was now, he had told me to wait for him in this cubicle. I wondered whether he had been held up, or whether perhaps he had entered the wrong cubicle by mistake, in which case, perhaps a stranger was sucking him off at that very moment. Inexplicably that thought made me hornier still. I looked around. I knew already that the tiny room was empty, yet somehow the thought which I was contemplating demanded that I check. Satisfied, I focused again on the strangers cock. I half expected it to withdraw at any moment, perhaps the stranger would get bored of waiting; I half hoped he would. In the meantime however, there was no harm in doing what I needed to. I stood quietly, and hitching my dress up around my waist, I slipped my knickers down and kicked them into a corner. I sat back down onto the chaise longue and reclined with my legs parted - one stretched horizontally along the furniture and the other bent at the knee, foot resting on the ground, my fingers found my clitoris, wet already, nestled beneath my trimmed thatch of pubic hair and gently I began its slow, circuitous masturbation.

My mind was in turmoil. How I had come to be here was clear enough. The catalyst had come on the night of my thirtieth birthday. We'd invited a group of friends over, enjoyed a barbecue in the late summer sun and by late evening had worked our way through several crates of wine. The conversation had been light and good humoured, but towards the evening it had taken a mildly salacious turn when somewhat drunk, the lads had begun discussing the aesthetic attributes of a well known personality. Not to be outdone, one of my more smutty friends had launched into her own appraisal of several male personalities, and unable to make her mind up as to which she would screw, she had turned to me for assistance. With all eyes on me, I had blushed, never comfortable to be the sole centre of attention, particularly on such a topic, but not wanting to appear prudish either; and I'd muttered the first thing that came to mind.

"Why settle on one?" And that was it. The group had laughed, I had smiled shyly and the topic had moved on, but a seed had been sown that would germinate over the weeks to come. At the time, I would never have imagined the impact that such a simple, throwaway attempt at humour might have, but from that day a chain of events had unfolded which had culminated in this moment.

That night, tipsy but in good spirits, my husband Dan had climbed onto me in bed and we had made love, something we had done with diminishing frequency of late. As I had laid there, his cock entering me with long, slow strokes, I had felt a familiar pleasure spread through my body as my orgasm had built. His touch, as ever was soft, tender, caressing. Like ripples on a pond, the sensations of pleasure ebbed gently, yet over time they increased in frequency until finally they merged and a single wave of bliss gripped me; a wave characterised by feelings of warmth, security, familiarity -- the gentle feelings of love. This was all expected. After ten years of marriage, our intercourse was as predictable to me as the sun rising, and no less a pleasure; but then something different had happened, something unexpected.

As my orgasm had subsided, I had opened my eyes to find my husband's gaze fixed on me, a hesitant expression on his face, and his lips parted slightly, as though preparing to give voice to thoughts that he was reluctant to share.

"What is it?" I had asked, suddenly concerned, but immediately he had shaken his head dismissively as though to say 'Nothing', and moved to kiss me. I'd then repeated myself, placing my hand against his chest and halting his advance. This time, he had seemed to consider me seriously. He had gazed at me again, his brow furrowed slightly, and when he had finally spoken his voice was quiet, nervous almost.

"It's just what you said earlier..." he'd replied and then added, when I'd looked at him confused, "you know...when we were talking about...you know...shagging other people."

"Oh God," I'd said rolling my eyes in exasperation, "I was joking honey." I'd relaxed the pressure on his chest then and moving my hand onto his shoulder, I'd pulled him towards me and kissed him, but the kiss was stiff. I'd opened my eyes again to see the same hesitation still clouding his features. "What?" I'd repeated, I was concerned again, in the whole time that I had known him Dan had never appeared jealous or paranoid that I would want to be with other men. He had to have known that I would never betray him, even if I had wanted to, which I hadn't. "You can't have taken that seriously surely?" Dan had paused for a long moment, our eyes locked together.

"I know you were joking about that," he'd replied finally, "but..." And that was when the bombshell came in a broken rush. "It's just that...well...the way you said it...the thought of it...it's...you know...hot."

My eyebrows had lifted in surprise at that. Of all the things I would not have expected my husband to say, that would have been at the very top of the list. After recovering from the shock, we had talked on for over an hour. At first, I'd been stunned and horror filled at the admission, but Dan had put my mind at rest -- reassuring me that it was only the thought which he found arousing, and finally I had relaxed. After that, Dan had proudly produced a new erection which he wanted to put to good use, suggesting that I should lie on my front and close my eyes, imagining it belonging to another man. I had been reluctant at first, but unable to see the harm I had acquiesced, although I had silently resolved only to close my eyes and pretend to go along. Yet even as he had penetrated me, I had felt oddly different and the more that I had resisted playing along with my husband's fantasy, the more active my imagination had become.

Unable to see him as he had driven his cock into me from behind, it had been all too easy to picture the hands which had gripped the flesh of my naked buttocks, as belonging to a stranger and I had been surprised to realise that I enjoyed the thought. Even the act itself had felt different; Dan's rhythm was more urgent somehow, his strokes rapid, deep, desperate almost and the familiar sensations which I associated with making love were strangely absent. The sense of familiarity was gone; the warmth was gone, replaced by something visceral, something raw, a primal yearning...excitement.

As my husband had pounded me violently from behind, my orgasm had come quickly, not in ripples but like waves breaking against rock, a boiling cauldron of chaotic sensations drowning out reality and subduing all thoughts of anything except the urge to submit, until with complete abandonment my body had given itself over to a cascade of ecstasy in a writhing, trembling mass even as his climax had erupted inside me. As he had lifted my head from the pillow and leaned in to kiss me, my eyes had rolled open, glazed over in the thrall of a passion which had long been forgotten and a throaty growl had escaped my lips. "I don't know who you are...but you can do that to me again."

That was how the role-playing had begun. It had started out as harmless fun and in the months which had followed, we had played out numerous scenes of casual sexual encounters between strangers, until Dan had discovered the Glory Hole, a venue which added a whole new dimension to the pretence. Before then, I'd always considered sex with another man to be disloyal and certainly the very idea that I might actually find myself sitting in a booth with a strangers cock hanging inches from my face would have been laughable -- intoxicated or not, and yet here I was in just that situation; but with my fingers buried in my pussy. I was confused. The cock before me was tantalising and as my fingers danced across my clitoris, I found my resolve weakening. Was it disloyal to want it?

I sat forward, moving along the chaise lounge until I perched, buttocks resting on the narrow end furthest from the upraised backrest. Legs astride, I held my moist cleft open with the index and ring fingers of my left hand, whilst my middle finger dipped between the soft folds and probed the tight opening of my vagina, dipping into its warm wetness to the knuckle. With my right hand, I slipped the straps of my dress off my shoulders, exposing my braless breasts and I cupped one, squeezing it gently before turning my attention to a sensitive nipple. With even closer scrutiny, I inspected the stranger's cock, which still dangled from the hole in the wall, now less than two inches from my face. Thick and dark, with the man's scrotum hidden on the other side of the hole, his prick resembled a chocolate torpedo, smooth but for two veins which ran down his impressive length to within inches of a bulbous pink head.

My heart was beating heavily, and I realised suddenly that I was holding my breath. I exhaled breathily without thinking and his cock twitched as the warm air contacted. "Shit." I cursed silently. But this time I did not retreat. His swelling prick held my gaze hypnotically and I abandoned my breast, my hand reaching out, almost of its own volition, slowly, shaking slightly as my extended fingers touched the soft flesh. The cock responded immediately. It swelled first, the thick veins pulsing as blood was forced into the stiffening member until it began to rise, slowly, but quickening as I stroked it gently. At full attention, I could finally marvel at its size. It was only inches longer than my husbands, but its girth was enormous and I was unable to fully close my fist as I wrapped my fingers about the thick shaft. With one hand, I continued to finger my pussy, but my other hand now worked the stranger's cock, gliding up and down the man's length as I slowly wanked him.

At first, I tried to justify what I was doing. It's only a massage after all, and besides, it was Dan that had sent me in here. It's not my fault that he couldn't get the right room. In fact, Dan was probably pressed up against this same wall, just a few short metres down the line getting his own cock sucked on by some blonde, or brunette for that matter - he might even have his dick buried inside her pussy by now if he was really getting lucky. Hell, he might even have set this whole thing up for all I knew. Also, what did it matter if I did have my fingers dancing a merry jig inside me, at least they were my fingers and it's not like this guy could see what was going on, but as my fingers danced and my other hand pumped his beautiful cock, I began to forget the justifications. I forgot about the glory hole and as my eyes lost focus and my pussy burned with carnal desire, my head, on autopilot, dipped forward; my lips parted and I drew the stranger's cock into my mouth sucking it in hungrily.

For what seemed a blissful eternity, my head bobbed over his prick, the thick shaft sliding easily between my lips, my red hair cascading over my shoulders, my eyes closed and my breasts hanging heavily whilst burst after burst of pleasure radiated from my swollen clitoris, and arced through my body like hot sparks, leaping from a welders torch. My orgasm loomed, threatening to explode with a force which, my lust fogged consciousness wondered if I would withstand. Yet it teetered on the edge, always imminent but always out of reach, until bliss became torment, an offer of ecstasy but with impossible terms. My fingers raced, rubbing furiously at my wanton pussy as though determination alone would bring on the flood, but my orgasm remained aloof.

I pressed my fingers deep between my legs, opening up my soaking hole and forcing them inside, two, then three -- forcing them into me with almost disjointed posture and then withdrawing them and plunging them in again with frantic voracity, but still my satisfaction was denied. My hunger burned, screaming to be satiated but it was too deep, my fingers not up to the job. I ached to be filled and through the stupor, a simple primordial instinct was driving me with ever growing insistence, doggedly demanding my submission to the final taboo, until at last, the final vestiges of my resistance collapsed with the realisation that it was not about love, it was not about Dan, or relationships; it was about desire, it was about need, and right now what I needed was this strangers cock to fill my sodden hole.

Decided I dipped my head onto the stranger's cock for a final time, feeling it prod at my throat, before withdrawing it slowly, deliberately, until only the tip rested between my pursed lips, long enough for my tongue to sweep around the swollen bulb, tasting the salty deposits which had dribbled from the end. Maintaining my grip with one hand, as though fearful it would disappear should I let go, I dragged the chaise lounge into position beneath the hole and clambered onto it, on all fours, head towards the upraised backrest, my arm stretched behind me, holding his shaft, guiding it towards me as I backed towards him, my bottom raised.

As I neared the wall, his cock pressed at last against my wet lips, tantalisingly close, and with a final shuffle backwards I felt the bulbous tip penetrate me, my pussy already open, willing him inside. Despite this, as I pushed back against him, his enormous girth stretched my gaping pussy further as he entered me. I moved onto him slowly, deliberately, savouring the fullness of his cock, aware that the gap between the hole in the wall and my own hole was several inches and I worried that he would not be able to enter me fully. I needn't have worried though, as my buttocks reached the wall, pressing against it, my pussy was filled to capacity and even as a contented moan escaped me, I wondered with awe how I would accommodate him, were it not for the barrier between us.

I didn't have time to marvel for long though. From the other side of the wall, the stranger had withdrawn his prick for the first time, and with a powerful thrust he drove it back into me, forcing it deeper by almost an inch. With a gasp, I arched my back, a brilliant flash blinded my vision as my breasts swayed ponderously and potent waves of gratification exploded from deep within me. Again he withdrew, and then again he thrust home, eliciting more guttural sounds from me as my arms buckled and I collapsed head first into the soft leather.

With just my slender backside raised to receive his thrusts, I steadied myself as the stranger settled into a rhythmic cycle of withdrawal and plunge, withdrawal and plunge. Over and over his thick shaft entered me, stretching me wide open, diving into my wet warmth as wave after wave of pleasure swept through me and a delirious haze of euphoric sensations promised to overwhelm me.

His pace quickened now, each thrust entering me with mechanical vigour; his delicious appendage apparently no longer driven by his own engine, but by powerful and elementary forces outside of him, but acting upon him; like a runaway locomotive on a downhill track in the relentless grip of gravity.

My climax, which before had been like the insistent waters of a swollen river building threateningly behind its dam, no longer threatened; instead, I could feel the fissures spreading through that barrier like cracks in a windshield, so violently that its collapse was imminent; the flood inevitable. With animalistic instinct, I mustered the last of my strength and prepared to meet his charge, forcing my ass flat against the wall, even as my muscles threatened to give out entirely, until with inalienable consistency the thrust came, and with it my orgasm broke.

My body, numb and vibrant at once, shuddered with the conflicting sensations as innumerable electrical pulses radiated throughout me like seismic waves, colliding and interfering with one another as my nervous system buckled beneath the sensory overload, even as burning lances of heat exploded within my womb. I cried out as the tremendous surge flooded through me; my flesh quivered and deep inside me, my convulsing vagina clamped powerfully around the strangers cock, milking the thick appendage until it too convulsed and erupted within me, the enormous head swelling and then bursting like an overripe fruit, spewing his molten seed into me and eliciting more cries of ecstasy as orgasm came on top of orgasm, ending only when the stranger withdrew his prick for the final time.

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bySkei0© 12 comments/ 114488 views/ 40 favorites

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