The blue-eyed guy from the glory hole stayed in my mind. I texted him later that night. Just “hey.”
A minute passed.
Then, “whassup.”
Nothing else. Not even an emoji.
I stared at my phone longer than I want to admit, wondering if I should send something else. I didn’t. I wasn’t going to chase him. If he wanted more, he could say so. Or not.
Who was I kidding? I liked this guy a lot. Not the usual sort I'd see at the glory hole. Don't get me wrong, some guys that go in are pretty hot. I've met with carpenters, electricians, and other types of tradesmen, often on their lunch breaks.
This blue-eyed guy? He was really hot on a level just above all else.
The next day, I waited. I actually waited. Like some desperate teenager pretending not to check their phone every five minutes while I tried to focus on work, which turned out to be a waste of time.
By the afternoon, I gave in.
“You around?”
He replied with one word. “Whassup.”
I didn’t want to play games or drag it out.
“Come over?”
There was a pause. A long one.
Then, “Glory hole again?”
My stomach tightened. Not with nerves, but with want. Maybe with some frustration. I wanted him in my bed. I wanted to see what his chest looked like. What sounds he made when I kissed down his stomach. What it felt like to fuck him without a wall between us.
What it felt like to kiss him while we rubbed our dicks together.
But I was too turned on to argue.
“Yeah,” I wrote back. “Same time?” I figured that was the smart play.
There was no response, but I already knew he’d be there.
I can’t tell you how slowly those next couple of hours dragged. Haven’t we all been there? Horny, excited, impatient, and also nursing that tiny fear that, last minute, they won’t show.
But finally, there I was. Five minutes early in that same public toilet, with that same musty air. That same buzz in my chest as I pushed the door open and made my way to the stall.
Again, it was completely empty.
He was already in the other one. I could feel it. The silence was heavier than usual. No one else around this time. Just the two of us.
The lock clicked behind me. My knees hit the cold tile floor like muscle memory.
And then I heard it.
The soft rustle of his shorts. The scrape of his zipper.
Then he slid through.
No hesitation this time. No tentative tip like the first night. Just thick and hard from the get-go. Already leaking slightly. Already glistening.
I stared at it. That familiar cock that had been in my mouth, down my throat, and now haunted my sleep. I didn’t waste time. I leaned forward and kissed the head. Slowly. Softly. Letting my lips press to it before I took him into my mouth with no theatrics.
He groaned.
That same low, masculine sound. A little louder this time. A little rawer.
My tongue worked the underside as I took more of him, inch by inch, until I couldn’t anymore. Then I backed off and did it again.
The hole was wide. Just enough to let my hands work his balls, cradle them, stroke the base of his shaft. I made it wet. Let my spit run down him, coating everything. I wanted to hear the slick noises. I wanted to make him lose composure.
He started thrusting, slow but deliberate. His cock hit the back of my throat and I forced myself to relax, to breathe, to take him. He tasted the same. Skin and heat and just a trace of sweat.
I didn’t want it to end too soon. So I eased off, pulling back until only the head was in my mouth. I swirled my tongue around it, teasing him.
That’s when he did it.
He pulled back. Not all the way. Just enough to take a beat. Then, without a word, he turned.
And I saw it.
His butt. Bare. Pressed up to the hole. Fucking perfect too. Smooth, milky, taut, like I was watching porn with some paid actor. Or an OnlyFans.
But no. This was a real guy, on the other side of a glory hole, with a fucking amazing dick and an even better ass. How lucky can you get?
I froze for half a second, just because I hadn’t expected it. Not from him. Not from someone who hadn’t even told me his name.
But fuck, it was perfect.
Tight, smooth, and shaved. Like he had prepped for this. Like he’d been planning it since last night.
In my mind, I fantasized that he had been preparing for this. That if I hadn't texted him, he would have reached out to me. And he had prepared for this today so I could do this.
I leaned in and spit through the hole, letting it drip down. Then again. My fingers followed, spreading him open gently. He flinched slightly, but didn’t pull away. In fact, he brought it towards the hole so I could circle his hole with my finger.
I used more spit. Rubbed it in with my fingers. He pushed back a little, just enough.
I knew he wanted it, or at least wanted to try it. Again, it's that subtle nuance when you just sense someone trusts you enough to give it to them. I put my tongue through the hole, but could only get it so far due to the wall. He pushed back a bit more and I was then able to get my tongue in a little bit.
He moaned.
I wanted to cum there and then. This was more than just hot. This was a fantasy fulfilled.
My cock was already hard, painfully so. I stroked it once, twice, then guided the tip toward the hole.
The angle wasn’t perfect. It never is with these setups. But I made it work. Pressed the head against him and felt him push back.
I won't lie, it didn’t go in straight away. In fact, it was the longest period in which my dick pushed against a guy's hole without entering.
Eventually, after what felt like back-aching hours, he finally relaxed enough and let me in.
The first inch took effort. He exhaled loudly on the other side, and I stopped, just holding there. Letting him breathe. Letting him adjust.
But fuck me. It was like sliding your dick into a tight hole filled with warm honey. So smooth and so hot. The head of my dick wanted to jizz already.
Then another inch.
His body clenched and relaxed again, like he was willing himself to take it. I did all I could not to nut inside him right then.
I heard him whisper, "Don't cum in me, okay?"
I nodded, then said, "Of course," wishing he hadn't said that but knowing I'd respect it.
Then I slid all the way in. It was like he was able to relax fully. I couldn’t believe it. I was inside him. Through a hole in a wall. Raw. Bare. Deep.
I gripped the edge of the stall and started to move. Slowly. Carefully. Inch by inch. I could feel his heat, the way his body pulsed around me. I could hear him grunt, not in pain, but in effort. And what sounded like ecstasy.
I didn’t go fast. I wasn’t trying to wreck him. I wasn’t trying to cum. That was the hard part. Not shooting my load in his butt.
I could feel every bit of his ass. I pushed through the hole deeper and felt the way he squeezed me tight.
We fucked. Through the wall and through that glory hole. The only thing better would have been if I could see him.
Then, after a few minutes, he pulled away.
I pulled my dick through and used some paper to clean it off a bit while peeking through. He seemed to be checking that he hadn’t made a mess.
I knew I was big. Perhaps too big for someone with little to no experience. But I didn’t care. That short, unbelievable moment where I fucked a stranger through a glory hole was already seared into me. I’d be masturbating over that for quite some time.
He didn’t say anything.
Just slid his cock back through.
It was slick now. From spit, sweat, and precum. He was rock hard. Flushed a deep shade of red. Veins raised.
I dropped to my knees and devoured him.
No warm-up this time. No teasing. I took him all the way in one go and let my throat do the rest. My lips slammed against the stall and stayed there.
He moaned loud. Not caring who heard, though the block was still really quiet.
I felt his legs tremble, and his thighs clenched. His cock twitched, so I played with his balls, rolling them in my hands and teasing the base of his cock.
I kept going.
One hand on his balls, the other wrapped around what I couldn’t swallow. I sucked him like he owed me something. Like I was punishing him for not coming to my bed.
And then I felt it.
That same pulse.
That same heat.
I didn’t stop.
He came in thick, hot ropes. Right down my throat. I swallowed, gagged slightly, but didn’t pull off. I stayed with him through it. Every spasm. Every groan. I felt it shoot. Then slow. Then finally soften.
I let him slip out, slowly.
His breathing was ragged on the other side. He didn’t say anything. Just heavy, hot breaths against tile and air.
I was so fucking hard it hurt.
I stroked myself. Fast. Desperate. Needing the release.
Then I saw it again.
His fingers.
Reaching through the hole. Wet and sticky from my spit and his own cum.
He didn’t even ask this time. Just wrapped them around my shaft and started stroking.
Fast. Messy. Focused.
I moaned, louder than I meant to, while my body lurched forward as I came all over his hand. It hit the wall. His wrist. Maybe even the floor.
He kept going, milking the last few drops out of me. Then I felt his mouth on it. Toward the end, he sucked the remainder. For some reason, it made me shoot even longer. It felt like a double-jizz.
Then silence again.
We both just breathed.
Eventually, I stood. Cleaned up. Wiped the floor out of habit. Washed my hands and left.
He wasn’t outside this time.
No text. No message.
Just a ghost with a perfect cock and an ass I was dying to bury myself in properly next time.
If there was a next time.
I got home. I showered and flopped on my couch, with a remote in one hand and a beer in the other. I knew I’d probably jerk off soon thinking about him.
Then I got a text.
“Thanks. Fancy another round in your bed?”
My heart leapt, and I think I responded even before he’d finished sending the message.
“Yeah. When?”
“Now.”
Shall we do a Part Three? Let me know if you're enjoying it.
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