Glory Holes

Decades ago, when I was a young man, I discovered the eighth wonder of the world, namely, glory holes.  

I was a sales representative in those days and had a large territory to cover. I particularly liked the smaller malls that essentially consisted of a multi supermarket chain with a handful of stores facing the supermarket tills within the enormous structure. To explain more fully, these malls had delightful toilets facilities located on either side of their entrances.

In general, these ablution areas consisted of a substantial steel urinal, two or more basins for handwashing, and several side-by-side toilet cubicles. Invariably, the last two or three stalls furthest from the entrance had glory holes in the chip wood drywalls between the stalls. The drywalls were generally over six-foot-high, with a twelve-inch clearing at the bottom. As I would come to learn, this was important for two reasons. Firstly, by standing on the toilet bowl, one could look over the top of the wall and peer into the adjoining stall. Secondly, people often stuffed the holes with a wad of toilet paper. I suppose this got done to prevent annoyance from patrons who were not interaction inclined or slightly dubious. In time, I would discern that the animated foot action from the shoes of the person in the adjoining stall, flicking side to side, was a great action indicator. After a reciprocal gesture, the wad of paper summarily disappeared.

The most befuddling thing to me was how the queens who fabricated these orifices of ecstasy did so without creating a shitload of noise. Because many of the holes were perfectly circular, I reasoned that they must have used a circular saw.

In addition to this glorious debauchery, dry or fresh cum stains usually adorned the partitions, along with a plethora of graffiti. Naturally, there were drawings of penises and pussies all over the stall. Most intriguing to me, however, were the people who left telephone numbers for hookups. The riskiness of this was mind-blowing. Many comments were humorous and often had me laughing.

On my visits, I soon found that before ten a.m. and after three p.m. was the best time to visit these toilets. Between these times, things could get too busy and be unrewarding, remembering that above all, I had a job to do, and time was, therefore, not limitless. Of the many pleasurable encounters I had, one mall stood out above all the others and I came to think of this as my lucky mall. Coincidentally, this was also the first ablution area where I got initiated into the wonder of glory hole sex. 

Prior to that, my first episode was very memorable. As I sat in the cubicle, looking at the wad of paper stuffed into the hole, a skanky-looking sneaker commenced flicking back and forth under the drywall. Purely on instinct, I reciprocated and moved my shoe close enough to touch the trainer. Magically, the wad of paper then got retracted, exposing an open glory hole. Unable to resist and with my heart beaten excitedly in my chest, I peered through the aperture. If I am to be quite honest, the man I saw did not excite me. He was a rough-looking blue-collar man, whom I estimated was at least sixty years old. What happened next, however, dispelled all my negativity, as the most awesome uncut cock slid through the glory hole.

Like a hungry slut, I got to my knees and began sucking his dick. Shortly, as if by symbiosis, I held my head still and let him skull-fuck me. With his fingertips clamping the top of the drywall, my mouth got treated to the most unbelievable pounding for a couple of minutes. As his rhythm became irregular, I prepared myself for his release. His forceful stabbing soon bore results as my mouth got coated by the most abundant spunk I had ever imbibed.

Afterward, he quickly pulled up his trousers and departed. As I again sat on the toilet bowl tugging on my dick, my tongue swirled in my mouth savouring the most delicious jizz I had ever tasted, before unloading.

I am pleased to report that I was fortunate enough to encounter this man a few more times over the next year or two.

My favourite encounter at this mall, however, was with a hunky and handsome guy, whom I have never forgotten. His name was Keith as I was to learn, and he was the sexiest man I ever engaged. Keith had a thickset hairy body, and the butchest hands, and feet, as I would later see, of any man I had ever met.

Once the glory hole routine commenced, Keith’s uncut beer can cock forced its way through the hole. Reduced to worship, I kneeled and began to show my devotion. With my lips at full stretch, my lips expanded to their maximum as the consecration was about to commence. The acrid smell of his foreskin was heavenly as his glans popped out of its confinement, and an unbelievable surge of horniness flooded my body as the pungent scent of his dickhead attacked my olfactory senses. I was quaking with lust as my tongue began lapping his powerful tang.   

As my mouth got blundered, I was in heaven. Shortly, however, he extricated his knob before I heard a whispering voice emanating from the glory hole.

“Would you like to come to my place?” the murmurs inquired after lowering my head. I gleefully answered in the affirmative.   

“Cool… Then meet me outside,” he instructed.

As I exited my stall, the sight that befell me was even more spectacular than I had imagined. Keith was magnificently chunky and butch.

“I’m living with my parents at the moment, but we and go to my place,” he assured me.

As we arrived in the car park, he told me that he lived close by, and had walked to the mall. Upon getting into my vehicle, Keith assured me that his place was safe because both his parents worked.

During our short journey, he explained that he was currently jobless, and had moved back in with his folks temporarily. The other strange revelation was that as a hobby he partook in korfball, which he explained was similar to basketball and originated from the Benelux counties. I had never heard of this before.  

When we entered his room, as he began to undress, encouraging me to follow his lead. Naked, Keith was a feast for the eyes. His thickset hairy body was like a tribute to masculinity.

Embracing me he said, “Oh, Jesus, there is nothing like raw lust.”

As he snorted with horniness, his large frame overwhelmed me on his bed. Compressed and cocooned by his powerful frame, I whimpered as his large hips ground into my crotch. As if that was not exciting enough, Keith began licking my face like a hungry puppy, before alternating between passionately kissing me as well. As his grunting escalated, his beefy arms lifted my legs in the air before I felt his ‘beer can’ cock prodding my portal. His entry was not comfortable, but more exhilarating than anything I had ever experienced before. As I got toked up on the agony my sphincter got sent into orbit, and soon I was moaning like a bitch in heat.      

The licking, kissing, and thumping, sustained me at a most magical level of ecstasy until he eventually came several minutes later. Unequivocally, I had just had the best fuck of my life.

Despite this being from an era preceding mobile phones, Keith and I stayed in touch and had a few more, memorable episodes.

Sadly, however, some other lucky queen managed to snare him, and so our trysts ended. As upsetting as that was, nonetheless, I had countless other happy experiences at glory holes before I finally got into a relationship and settled down.

Often, however, as my husband and I sit in our lounge watching television, a smile comes to my face as I recall those halcyon days. Keith, of course, always remains my favourite memory.