Copyright 2006 by the author.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The type of encounter described in this tale is, if not new, certainly a lot more common now. While private glory holes may have existed before the Internet, cyberspace is an ideal way to advertise them. The story is based on incidents related to me by a friend, who insists they really happened. Whether they did or not, I hope you enjoy. KN
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A man's best friend is his fuck buddy. Sure, relationships are great: but when you're in between them and horny, there's nothing like having someone you can count on for hot mutual fun, no strings attached.
I have a picture of one of my favorite fuck buddies. It's a close-up of an open mouth, nice even white teeth, a dark mustache with a hint of gray on the upper lip.
The tongue is hanging partway out, coated with thick white liquid that's foamy with air bubbles. The same stuff forms sticky strings between the upper and lower lips, and a blot of it is hanging off the mustache.
It's cum, of course. Mine.
Mark took that picture of himself, he says, just after one of our encounters, before he spit out my load, pointing the digital camera into the mirror and carefully cropping the result. He e-mailed it to me later that night, so I'd find it the next morning.
Mark's mouth is the only part I've seen of him, besides his cock.
I'll admit it, looks have always been important to me. So how did I get hooked up with someone I wouldn't recognize if I passed him on the street? It was like this. I was surfing the net one night, checking out one of my favorite cruising sites. I was scrolling down the list of guys in my town when one I hadn't seen before caught my eye.
His name was Mark, and nothing about him stood out at first. He was a little older than I like, "average" body, no face pic. There was a nice shot of his cock, seven inches uncut. But it was a sentence at the end that hooked me.
"Have a private glory hole at home."
Now I knew what glory holes were, of course-those openings cut in stalls in public men's rooms, or between peepshow booths, where men stuck their cocks through to get blow jobs. But I'd never heard of anyone having one at home.
A little icon at the bottom of the box said he was online and could chat. In a flash we were sending instant messages to each other.
"It's simple," Mark wrote. "I leave the door open. U come in, go upstairs, stick your cock through the hole, I suck u off, you leave. No strings."
"U don't want my pic?" I asked.
"Nope. Unless u have cock shot
."
He wouldn't send me his picture either, though he assured me that he was "not ugly." Looks weren't important to him, only cock. I had to admit the thought was hot, and told him so.
"Then cum on over."
Ten minutes later I was on the road, following the directions he had sent, my cock hard in my pants. I parked a little distance away and walked up the driveway to a modest duplex in a pleasant, nondescript neighborhood.
Mark had told me the door would be unlocked, and instructed me to ring the bell once before I entered. I heard the musical chime inside when I pushed the button. I turned the knob and sure enough, it was open. I stepped into the entryway to a pleasant, impeccably neat living room. I wasn't really interested in checking it out, though--I quickly headed up the stairs.
At the top, I turned and looked down the hall. At the end, where there would have been a door, I saw a plywood board filling the frame. A little bit below the middle I saw the hole that had been cut in it. Light filtered through from beyond and I saw shadowy movement on the other side.
As I watched, a finger came through the hole, beckoning. I hesitated a moment, but the lust coursing within me was too strong. I strode down the hall, unzipping as I walked. My cock sprang out of my open fly in full erection, as it had been ever since I started my drive over here. I paused before the opening, trying to quiet my loud breathing.
The finger was withdrawn. Then I saw a tip of a tongue snake through the hole. That was enough. I took one step forward and put my cock through.
"Mm, nice," a voice whispered on the other side, just before my cock was engulfed by warm, slippery pleasure. Then Mark began to slide back and forth on my steel-hard rod.
My invisible sucker knew what he was doing. He varied the pace and depth of his strokes, using plenty of spit and tongue on the head. Sometimes he held just the head in his mouth, then he took me down to the root, so that I could see his mustache hairs come through the hole. He flicked his tongue in and out of my leaking piss slit until I saw stars. Eager fingers pulled my balls out and through the hole in the plywood, and he worked on those as well, before attacking my dick again.
After a while I started to moan. My fingers clutched the doorframe, my head tilted upward, eyes closed as I savored every sensation. The erotic charge of being blown by an unseen mouth was indescribable.
Finally I couldn't take anymore and pulled back. Mark didn't want to let me go but I insisted. My cock and balls slid back into view, soaked with spit. I stood, my hard-on raging, legs trembling with fatigue from tensed thigh muscles, amazed at the effect this encounter was having on me.
