Private Glory Hole

Private Glory Hole

I almost sucked my friend's cock at a sleepover once. And by 'almost' I mean we showed each other our penises then did nothing. Except that I wondered what it would be like for the next thirty years to taste cum.

At the gym I kept to myself except this one time when a guy, a body builder, changed in front of me and I gawked at his cock.

It was thick and long and meaty and hung low, swinging to and fro. This time I wondered what it would be like if he grabbed my head and forced his slab into my mouth.

He caught me staring but I didn't even have the sense to look away.

I was lost in thought, "Would it grow long, invading my throat slowly while he refused to let go of me?"

That strongman pulled up his underwear, then made a show of cupping his package before heading off to another part of the locker room. In my mind, instead of heading off, he stepped forward, jamming himself into me.

We did nothing, except that for the next fifteen years I wondered what it would have been like to have a man abuse my mouth.

Another time I went to an adult bookstore to fulfill my twisted longing. This was right when everyone feared AIDS and I was petrified I would catch something.

The guy in the next booth and I whispered through the hole that adjoined our booth and we agreed to swap head.

He beckoned for me to put mine through and when I did it was the most sublime blowjob, much better than the ones my stinted wife used to begrudgingly give.

It's ironic that she hates BJs since she loves receiving head herself. In fact, it's the only way she cums.

I like servicing pussy so that's ok. But you would think some turnabout would be fairplay.

In that bookstore, I emptied my load into his mouth then placed my lips at the hole ready for him to fuck my face - but he was gone.

Terrified I would be infected I decided never to go to a bookstore again - who knows who could be on the other side?

For the next two years I fantasized about being violently mouth raped by a studly man with a big cock.

Three months ago I decided what I needed was my own private glory hole. I thought about places to build one: my bathroom, my back-to-back closets, hanging a sheet in the kitchen, or my garage.

In the end I concluded that I could remake a corner of my garage where my workbench was without drawing undue attention from my wife.

On the weekends when my wife would visit her mother, I built a tiny storage room to secrete myself in.

I would have as many weekends as I needed to build and use it since we didn't have the best marriage. She was constantly complaining I wasn't manly enough despite how hard I worked to provide.

In fact, we were down to sex about twice a month only. It was boring perfunctory sex either preceded by pussy licking or sometimes followed by it. The cunni was the highlight.

No one could say I wasn't a selfless lover, which is more than I could say about Caity. She need only apply a slight downward pressure and I would respond to our signal.

In the garage I put a dick hole in the side of the tiny room and arranged for my workbench to fold against it - hiding the hole when not in use. On the inside a removable shelf covered the opening.

Imagining myself with my face to the hole - I knew I wanted to be forced to suck, to be unable to escape a phallic assault of my mouth.

Rehearsing, I put my cum hungry mouth against the lusty orifice only to discover that the edges would hurt me and cut my face.

I added perfectly face-shaped padding, then brilliantly came up with the idea to install some straps so the cocksman could pull on them holding my head tightly to the hole.

Now I just needed to get a man with a big cock to come use my glory hole.

I figured the best way to do that would be to place a personal ad and to make him think he would be coming to use a woman. It would be easy enough to say I was a woman but it would be suspicious when he never saw me.

I mulled over the dilemma for a couple days, then the solution came to me: if a woman really were on the other side of a hole to suck cock she would want to conceal her identity. But no doubt some tiny clue could be discovered: and any subtle but unexpected clue to her femininity would be interpreted as proof that she actually was a she.

First I thought the mystery man should hear the clacking of high heels beyond the wall, causing him to draw the erroneous conclusion I wanted.

Then that led me to just be more direct in my deception.

Going through a bunch of porn videos I recorded a woman's voice and with a lot of editing pieced together some dialogue. But the big trick, the pièce de résistance, would be when a recording of my own voice coming from the house would ask my wife if she were ready.

I realized that to the man whose cock I sucked it would appear that the man of the house was a cuckold, but no matter. That was preferable to him thinking that the man of the house was the cocksucker - and maybe not agreeing to use my hole.

I changed my plans slightly when I placed the ad which read: "My wife was a naughty girl. As punishment she will service your cock at a glory hole. Send replies to jon smyth at AOL.com."

After many exchanged emails I screened out the unsavory or unsafe, so that on the big day I watched my unsuspecting victim's gold car pull into the drive and I hit the button to open the garage door for him. Craig, that was his name, pulled right in, then strode the few steps to my glory hole.

What I could see of him through the hole he looked like a normal guy. Of course I chose him because he was a normal guy with a huge cock. It helped that he was an incredibly charming and persuasive man.

From my hiding place I closed the garage door behind him, then I hit the first button playing the tape of my own voice, "Are you out in the garage? Because you're supposed to be waiting."

"She" answered back, "Yes, I'm ready. But when this is over the slate is clean."

Then "she" started into her dirty monologue, "Come on Big Boy, slide your cock through the hole and do your worst."

I pressed my lipstick painted lips to the hole and waited. He said he liked the color. It was my wife's lipstick, the same she wore everyday.

A soft dickhead brushed against my lips. Oh, how I wished I could see it. Why didn't I think to make a way for me to see it?

Hurriedly I unzipped and hauled out my own expectant dick, getting ready to jerk it.

He circled my lips rubbing the large plum round and round. I just let him do what he wanted. It was electric to feel the cock squish and bend as it touched me.

After so many years I was finally about to become a cocksucker. The anticipation was driving me crazy.

It was surprising to me that it had a scent. I'd never considered that a man's cock would have a smell. Fortunately, it wasn't bad, like skin and soap, but slightly musty too.

It firmed a bit without losing its silky softness. Being less bendy he started to hold it down on the juncture where my lips met.

I was about to open my lips allowing him access, when it dawned on me that this would not be an example of me being forced like I wanted. I kept my lips shut tightly requiring him to bully himself in between them.

I heard his muffled voice, "You really have been a bad girl. Now accept your punishment." It really worked, he thought I was a woman. I had butterflies in my stomach.

The pointed spearhead tried parting my lips but failed.

He used the tip to try to pry my "unwilling" lips apart but only managed the tiniest ingress. Though it was enough for some of my wetness to mingle with the wetness from his dickhole. It was mildly sweet, but wildly erotic, leaving me unable not to massage my own dick.

Next I felt fingers loosening and pulling my lips apart. I loved the raw urgency he no doubt felt.

My slutty lips now surrounded his crown and I pulled on my stiffy, Resisting outwardly, but turned on by years of pent up sexual longing, it was everything I could do to continue the game rather than suck him in enthusiastically.

My man spoke forcefully, "Open up, whore. You know you want it." I shook my head feeling his knob hit both corners of my mouth.

I felt his fingers through the hole again, prying my jaw open. It was everything I'd hoped it would be.

He squeezed the mushroom head in, flattening my tongue. Despite all my shows of resistance I bathed his frenulum deliciously, savoring the feeling. Its round plumpness was an incredible turn on.

"Damn girl! I hear you moaning over there. But we've hardly started." Saying that, he bore down stuffing a few more inches into my surrendered orifice.

Now he began fucking back and forth several inches into my mouth. His cockskin skimmed across my tongue hotly.

His voice came through the hole again, "I need you to suck on it a bit if I'm going to get hard." Then he added, "If you don't we'll be here all day."

First I massaged it with my tongue then added suction.

He started gradually increasing the depth and I was looking forward to swallowing his cock and having it go down my throat.

His man-hairs tickled my nose and I learned his bush had a smell too. Not at all like Caity's, it was pungent and musky, like a jock strap. I inhaled deeply, imprinting the scent on my memory so I would never forget.

In his emails he said he was eight inches long so I hoped at least two inches would snake down my gullet.

As his cock grew in my mouth it firmed up nicely. Between his fucking and it's longer dimensions it reached the back of my mouth and started entering my throat.

I gagged slightly so I knew I had to try harder. And by 'try' I mean pushing my throat against the cockhead while willing my body to accept it.

He took that as an invitation, pushing back. I knew that any moment now my dream of being facefucked was to be a reality. My dick was more turned on than ever.

Then his got even harder and firmer. Having never sucked a cock before I had thought it had been fully hard, but I was wrong.

The harder it got, the longer it got. And the longer it got the more it bumped my epiglottis. Naturally, the more it bumped my epiglottis, the more I gagged and coughed.

The bumping started to hurt a little. I straightened my throat which unfortunately didn't make any difference.

Really, the only thing that helped was to hold back a little. But rather than give up I just needed to persevere.

I intended to hold my face firmly against the padding, willing him to fuck me violently.

But when push came to shove anytime it touched the back of my mouth, and despite my best intentions, I pulled back.

After years of waiting to be face fucked I didn't have the backbone to withstand a little discomfort.

I'd even lost my erection.

Each time the big cock retreated I placed my lips at the hole, telling myself to persist this time. But when he drove forward I ended up cowardly pulling away. The result was that, no more than about four inches plowed into my mouth, and none of it went into my throat.

The man behind the cock grew impatient, "You're husband's ad said I was supposed to punish you, but if you keep pulling...Oh right... this wasn't your idea and you're not really loving this."

He sounded irritated, "You two should have planned for this better. He should be over there holding your head so you can't...wait, what's this?"

I felt the cords around my neck and head go from slack to taut. He'd found the straps!

I had hoped he would find the straps, and really worried when he had not found them earlier. I mean, they were pretty obvious.

He pulled fiercely, really hard! My face pressed mightily into the padding. The pressure on my forehead and cheekbones was intense. It was pretty uncomfortable but since the padding fit my face so well it was at least bearable.

The upper straps grabbed the back of my head really tightly and that was fine. The lower straps dug into my neck pinching my skin painfully. Now I wished I'd designed them better. Maybe the straps should have been padded too.

Maybe I should have limited how tightly they could hold me too.

I felt completely at his mercy now. I was a little apprehensive, but still hoped for a good throat reaming. Best of all, was that now my wimpiness couldn't stop me from following through.

Sure my contraption wasn't perfectly designed but I still felt pretty self-satisfied that it was working better than intended. Not only did the binds immobilize me, but they acted as a remedy for my unexpected faintheartedness.

Reluctance was again replaced by sexual excitement. My heartbeat raced and my hard-on came back.

I knew that any second now a cock was going to be down my throat. Two inches? Three inches? Maybe four? I slowly pulled on my stiff dick in anticipation.

Then the magic moment was upon me. He drove forward slowly yet inexorably toward his goal. I tried to count the inches as they went first past my lips then down my throat. I was too close to coming so I stopped touching my penis.

The head was already in, so call that two wonderful inches. Then the head was caressing the middle of my tongue, so another fantastic inch must have come in. He pushed further and I guessed yet a fourth exciting inch had passed my lips. Next, the crown teased my epi, meaning another measured amount must have come through and I was happily able to resist gagging.

When it started down my oral passage, that would make five or six inches past the teeth, and one in the throat. I coughed slightly but could hold it back, like you do when you need to cough at the theater.

The friction of naked cock crossing my lips was fantastic and another inch forced its way into my throat. I hadn't considered that cocks have thickness too and the massive cockhead plugged the first part of my esophagus getting stuck there momentarily. My stomach lurched slightly but I suppressed it.

It was hard to believe that after like thirty years of wanting a cock shoved down my throat it was finally happening. I had an entire cockhead in there and I couldn't chicken out.

I felt the straps loosen slightly, as he repositioned his hold on the reins, then strain again to hold me securely.

Thick man-meat stretched my lips wide while simultaneously the thick head squeezed its way further down my throat, stretching it too.

I didn't know his cock would stretch my throat, let alone that throats could stretch. I certainly didn't know that it would hurt. And fuck did it hurt!

But the long cock kept coming. Why, oh why, did I work so hard to find a man with a big cock? Maybe an average sized cock would've been fine.

Then the rest of his cock continued into my mouth pushing a full four inches down my throat.

When the base reached my lips they were stretched beyond anything I'd imagined. Later I learned that I even got a little split lip.

As the first half of his cock went down my throat the pain didn't go away. Furthermore, it came with new unexpected discomforts: my jaw ached, my tongue felt crushed, it felt like I had a sore throat from a cold, my ears popped, and my sinuses leaked.

As soon as he had it all the way in he pulled back. But the shaft was barely out of my mouth when he ran it right back down again.

It wasn't any better. My lips were still stretched, the opening to my throat was still abused, and those few inches down my esophagus still burned.

Maybe it would get better, maybe if I stopped all obstructions. So I opened my mouth as wide as it would go allowing him easy access.

Unfortunately, this time he rammed it a lot faster, so that instant when it entered my throat was more like a punch than a push.

When he bottomed out, the straps pulled incredibly tightly while the plywood separating us bowed in slightly. He must have been using all of his strength to fuck me.

My stomach spasmed like it wanted to throw up, I sputtered ineffectively around his cock, but there was nowhere for it to be thrown into.

He, thankfully, pulled back, though I was too stupid to take this opportunity to catch a breath. Then he immediately plowed me again. Same pinch, same stretch, same punch, same burn, same spasm. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

He did this easily five or six more times before the reality that one can't breath with a fat, long cock down their throat got serious. In my naivete I'd just thought you could breathe through your nose. I was sooo wrong.

Now as he kept assaulting me I had the new experience of my lungs heaving against nothing, trying to move air when there was no place to move it to.

By now my whole body was fighting this. My stomach lurched, my lungs pushed back, and it tried to cough him out to no avail.

I think he had no idea what was happening on my side of the wall.

On his side he made the sounds of a man in great sexual stimulation.

But in my little room snot was running down my face, tears were streaming from my eyes, and I felt the blood pressure in my face increase.

The runny crap from my eyes, nose, and mouth ran down, staining my blue denim shirt.

Through the hole he warned me, "You're not doing a good job. If I'm going to get off you need to suck it or I'm not going to cum." Fearfully, I knew he was right.

He never once stopped plunging his cock in and out rapidly, banging loudly on the wall with his hips and knees. And by now I had serious concerns about dying here strapped to a wall in my garage. What would my wife think of me when she found my body?

I needed him to finish fast, so I sucked as good as I could. I could tell it made it better for him.

It made it worse for me, if anything, now my lips got hammered and my tongue got cut by my teeth.

He started saying things like "Shit, now that's a good blowjob!" and "Don't stop what you're doing and I'll give you a creamy load." But after that I stopped being able to listen.

Panic didn't stop me from sucking as frantically as I could. Adrenaline fueled perspiration beaded on my face.

There was a dire possibility I was going to pass out, and not wanting to be strangled by the straps, I worked my fingers under them to hold myself up should the worst happen.

Of course any thoughts I'd had about jerking off had completely flown out the window a long time ago.

My ordeal didn't go on much longer. He drummed my throat for just a few more strokes before screaming loud enough to wake the dead.

The big cock jerked, and pulsed, and expanded even more...then it was gone.

When the straps went slack I turned from the hole, vomiting all over the floor. I hadn't had lunch and I could see his cum in the emittance. There sure was a lot. Did all men cum that much?

Gasping for air, sucking in all I could get, I wiped spit and snot and tears, and blood, and sweat, and cum from my face, not caring about the state of my shirt.

I never saw him leave or knew what he thought of his visit to my house.

Weakly climbing to my feet I symbolically nailed a two by four to the damn hole with angry hammer blows then went inside to clean up. I would never suck cock again!

After that my life returned to marvelous tedium. Work, TV, uninspired conversation with Caity, and even less inspired sex. I was happy, and would be happy, with this life for as long as I lived.

I gave up wanting to suck cock. I gave up longing for my mousy wife to adore me. Instead, I settled for a life with no pain.

A couple weeks later I pulled around the corner when the sight before me made my blood run cold. There in the driveway was the old mint '72 gold cadillac that I recognized as his car.

Entering our house I found Caity and him sitting in the living room talking. What the fuck was he doing here?

Was he exposing me? Telling her that I'd sucked his cock? I would die of embarrassment.

However, that didn't make sense because (and this dawned on me painfully slowly) he thought my wife was the one whose mouth he'd fucked through the glory hole.