Gloryhole Memories

All participants are 18 or over.

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Back in the university scene of the 1980s, there were always at least one or two glory holes on any good-size campus. At my school, I first noticed one in a somewhat remote men's room on the bottom floor of the library. I had no idea what it was for. It occurred to me that it was for peeping on the person in the adjoining stall, but I didn't really understand how it was used until my worldlier roommate explained it to me in textbook terms.

"The holes in the partitions between the washroom stalls are called glory holes. They're there so you can have sex or get head from an anonymous stranger in the other stall."

I listened in wonder, not believing it could really happen, but fascinated by the idea.

Then, almost as if I hadn't realized this before, it occurred to me that the person on the other side of the partition would be a man. Using the glory hole would be gay. It was a deflating realization. After all, I liked girls, not guys.

But I found that I visited that washroom surprisingly often. Sometimes I didn't even need to relieve myself. I just couldn't resist my own curiosity. The idea of getting a free blowjob got me incredibly hot. Most of the times I visited, there was nobody there.

One day I went in there and I was not alone. I saw feet under the farthest stall. It was like I was on auto-pilot. I walked over to the centre stall, stepped inside, took down my pants and sat on the toilet. Seated, my eye was about level with the glory hole.

And there was an eye on the other side.

You couldn't see enough face to recognize anyone; it was true about the anonymity of the glory hole.

But it was a guy. I paled at the thought. Could I go through with this even for a blowjob?

Suddenly, a finger poked through the hole and I remembered what my roommate told me. That was an invitation to put my cock through the hole.

It was really happening.

My penis went rock-hard instantly. It seemed my organ didn't care whether it was a guy's or a girl's mouth that sucked it off.

I had to admit I was scared too. What if the dude on the other side bit me or had a knife ready to cut my dick off? Jesus, how would I ever explain that?

"C'mon, man, put it in the hole."

I needed no further prompting. I stood up and inserted my cock into the glory hole . For a long moment, nothing happened at all and I began to worry. Was I being rejected? Was he ready with that knife?

Then I felt a feather-light touch on my shaft. It tickled a little, but before I could think of complaining, hot, moist lips closed over my glans. A tongue began to flick across the tip of my cock. I shuddered with pleasure. Then he went straight to work. His mouth sucked in the length of my shaft and his tongue caressed the sensitive underside of my cock every inch of the way. He stopped occasionally to nibble and nuzzle my cock sensually. Then he began blowing me in earnest.

I began to thrust myself against the wall in keeping with the rhythm he established. I pumped myself into that tight mouth for all I was worth.

The slurping noises he was making on the other side of the partition became louder and mixed with moans. He was getting off on this too.

Just in time, I remembered the glory hole etiquette my roommate mentioned to me. It was good manners to rap gently on the partition when you were about to come, and so I did. I don't know if this guy didn't hear it or didn't care, but he didn't take his mouth off my cock.

I didn't mind that at all. It meant he kept pleasuring me even as I came. I convulsed in ecstasy as wave after wave of orgasm broke over me.

When I came down, I came down hard.

I immediately felt a surge of panic overtake me. I had just been blown by a guy. A guy! And what now? Would he expect me to suck him in return?

As I buckled up my pants, obviously making ready to leave, I thought my cocksucker might kick up a fuss that I wasn't going to return the favour. Instead, I heard him sigh. He made no effort to stop me. This had happened to him before.

I dashed out of the washroom and lost myself in the anonymity of the library. Despite the obvious pleasure my visit to the washroom afforded, I vowed not to go to the glory hole again.

I began dating a girl shortly after this who helped me meet my sexual needs. For a while, everything was great. But when she went down on me, I compared her talents with the expertise of the male stranger who serviced me at the glory hole. Good as she was, she was no match for him. All the same, I caught myself watching her technique, as if I was trying to take some pointers from it.

This troubled me. What did it mean? Had my experience changed me? Was I gay. Subsequently, the relationship continued and I had fantastic sex. In the short term, this greatly reinforced my confidence in my sexuality.

Yet as time wore on, I found myself thinking of the library washroom again.

One day I was studying at the library and actually needed to use the washroom. I went down five floors, telling myself the washroom in the basement was quieter than the washrooms on the busier floors.

The lies we tell ourselves.

There was no one there when I arrived. I sighed and took a seat in the farthest stall. I did my business and had just flushed when I heard the heavy door of the washroom swing wide and then shut again. Footsteps echoed across the room. My strange initial interest faded when I heard a tinkle at the urinals. Just someone taking a quick piss, I thought. Then the urinal flushed and I heard him washing at the sinks.

I wondered why I was still in my stall when I no longer had a reason to be.

Footsteps echoed again and I fully expected to hear the washroom door swing open again for the fellow to exit, but it didn't. What was he doing, just standing there? Or had he noticed my feet beneath the farthest stall?

The footsteps resumed. They ended when the man entered the stall beside mine. I sat back down on the toilet to establish my view through the glory hole. Sure enough there was an eye looking back.

Almost before I knew what I was doing, I rubbed a finger around the rim of the circular hole. I had just offered to give my first blowjob and I hadn't consciously known I intended to do any such thing when I came into this room. I still didn't know if I had the nerve or not. I reddened deeply, astonished at my curiosity.

I heard the clink of a belt being unbuckled and the zip of a fly. Then it was coming through the glory hole: my first cock.

It was already hard.

It was a handsome specimen. Even on this side of the hole there must have been seven inches or more. The glans was like a reddish mushroom cap; its tip was wet with a tiny dewdrop. The shaft was comparatively pale, except for the light blue vein running down the length of the penis. I leaned back appreciating this fine dick.

"Go on, man," its owner said. "Lick it."

It wasn't encouragement I needed; it was permission.

I lowered myself to my knees and faced the partition. I reached up and gently took the shaft in my hand, then I leaned in and licked the tiny bead of pre-cum off the point of his penis. I played with it with my tongue, letting my taste buds get used to what was coming. A long thin strand connected my lower lip to his cock. I shuddered with a strange pleasure.

"Come on," my customer sounded again. "Suck it!"

This was my first cock. I would not be rushed. Still holding the shaft of his dick in my right hand, I nibbled and nuzzled delicately along the length of his manhood as my cocksucker had done for me those weeks ago. After a few minutes, the man on the other side of the partition groaned audibly in appreciation, but I could hear his need in the sound.

I was ready to fulfil that need. I closed my mouth over the glans and began twisting my tongue around the super-sensitive area. I was immediately rewarded with moans from the other side of the wall. I could taste more of his pre-cum mixing up with the saliva in my mouth. It made my tongue feel slippery on his cock.

I began to swallow more of him. The pre-cum/saliva mixture lubricated my progress as I engulfed him inch by inch until I reached my choking point. Then I leaned back and began repeating the process, using my hand to jack the short length of him I couldn't quite choke down. I wasn't disappointed by that; I was new at this and it would take practice to defeat the gag reflex. I shuddered again to realize that I was pondering more practice of this illicit act.

My anonymous client didn't seem to have any complaints about my gag reflex and I began sucking him in earnest, carefully coordinating the movements of my head and my hand. My cheeks caved in as I established a true suction lock on him. My tongue caressed every inch that made it into my mouth, especially the glans. The man on the other side began breathing faster, moaning that it was good. My cock twitched when I heard his compliments.

"Yeah," he exhaled. "You're one fucking good cocksucker."

Just as I had done when I'd been in his position, the cock donor on the other side of the wall began thrusting into the glory hole with a desperate need.

Then, without the warning demanded by good manners and glory hole etiquette, he unloaded in my mouth. My eyes widened as I realized what was happening. I was taking the cum of a complete stranger in my mouth. My cock twitched with arousal while my mind wrestled with excitement and disgust.

But all the while it was happening, I never stopped sucking him. Some of his cum escaped my vacuum lock, and sperm collected on my chin, dripping to the floor in a long gossamer-thin strand. The rest rode over my taste buds and pooled in the back of my throat. I was pleasantly surprised at the taste, but I couldn't immediately decide if I would swallow it or spit it out. In the end, I swallowed because I couldn't tear myself away from the job of cleaning off the cock before me as my cocksucker had done for me.

When I was done licking and sucking him clean, I felt awkward and embarrassed. I tore some toilet paper off the roll and wiped the surplus cum off my chin and from around my lips.

In the other stall, I heard the man zip his fly and leave me in my need, just as I had left my cocksucker.

The heavy washroom door banged closed after my anonymous sperm donor.

What should I do now, I wondered.

Even as I contemplated picking myself up the cubicle floor and going home to rub one out, someone else entered the washroom. Would this be someone who might come to my relief?

Sure enough, the footsteps led straight to the cubicle beside me. A short game of patience and wills ensued as we both waited to see who would act first.

In the event, even I was astonished when my hand reached out once more as if with a mind of its own. I found myself tracing an inviting finger around the glory hole once more. My jaw dropped at my own new lust for anonymous cock.

As expected, a new cock came through. I serviced it as I had its predecessor and my mouth was once more inundated with a load of cum. This time, my client was courteous enough to knock on the wall first, so the choice to swallow his spunk was entirely mine.

And this time, when my work was done, I was rewarded. My neighbour in the next stall did zip up, but he didn't leave. After a moment of uncertainty, he told me to put it in.

I did.

He took his time, only stopping once when someone came in to use the urinals before hurrying out. When he resumed, he mixed up his moves between blowjob and handjob, but both felt good. He was blowing me when I alerted him I was going to come. I didn't mind that he didn't want to take my load in his mouth. Instead he jacked me until I blew my load across his stall.

We left the washroom a few minutes apart.

As time went by, the university maintenance department began covering the men's room glory holes in heavy plates of stainless steel. New holes popped up for a while, but before too long they too were repaired and sheathed in steel.

I returned to the library men's room from time to time to both receive and give blowjobs, almost until the day the hole was capped. It was just a purely sensual exercise. I have never found myself attracted to men in the years since, but I've also never had better head than I had in those years in that basement washroom.

I don't know if there are still glory holes out there. I'm sure there are somewhere. My time with them is done, but my memories of them never fail to fill me with excitement.