Pent up weeks without masturbation combined with years of intense sexual frustration conspired to ensure that I didn’t last very long. I felt my lover’s hand once against wrap around the base of my cock. I bit down on my finger, feeling that I was getting close. My lover pulled my cock out of their mouth, flicking their tongue against the tip while they started to vigorously stroke me. I felt my partner’s lips seal around the tip of my cock as the stroking got faster and tighter.
Then it happened. I bit down so hard for a moment I thought I’d draw blood. But then, the small amount of pain I felt in my finger was completely overwhelmed. It started with my balls seizing up, sort of pulsating. Then, I felt the laser-like jet of sperm move through my urethra, so backed up and over-stimulated that it felt like it was stretching me out and moving a million miles an hour. And I felt it burst through the tip of my cock, with my shaft now pulsing as well. And with this mechanical release of my ejaculate, I also felt a debilitating (and wonderful) sense of serenity and calm. It radiated out over my body, growing from my midsection to coat my brain in a fuzzy euphoria. I leaned forward against the wall to keep from falling.
I heard a muffled noise on the other side of the stall, but my partner did not stop. The hand continued to pump on my hard cock, the lips maintained their seal, as my partner milked every last drop of my cum into their mouth. I felt the tongue, hot with my spunk, swirl around my tip and collect more and more of my sexual essence. Spurt after spurt of my sperm deposited in my lover’s mouth and the intensity of the experience brought tears to my eyes.
Finally, I’d deposited most of my seed, I felt my pace slacken and then stop. My cock still shook as the orgasm faded, but the cum stopped flowing. My balls even eased and I slipped my finger out of my mouth, breathing for the first time in nearly a minute. I felt light headed but comfortable. I couldn’t ever remember feeling so content, not since high school at least. I felt no shame or discomfort. It felt like I’d always hope sex would feel.
I heard my lover gulp through the divider and I knew they were drinking down my tremendous load of cum. My partner’s hand was still on my cock. It stayed there for a moment, and then I felt one last little surprise. My cock was rapidly softening in my lover’s hand. I felt my partner lifted the tip up one last time and felt a gentle kiss planted again the very tip of my cock. It felt lovely, almost better than the blow job. Then my partner dropped my cock. I heard the door open quickly and, whoever the person was, quickly shuffled out of the bathroom.
For a moment I stood in stunned silence. It had actually worked! I had come in with high hopes but also an almost certainty of failure. But here I was, sexually sated and completely dazed. After a few moments, I realized where I was and what I was doing. I carefully slid my cock out of the glory hole. I put my clothes back on absent-mindedly. I tried to think about the implications of what happened, but my brain wouldn’t focus. The only thing I could do was slap a silly, satisfied smile on my face.
Some long period of time after I entered the bathroom I walked back out into the pet shop. The girl was still reading a romance novel behind the counter. She didn’t even look up as I walked out. Was it her? I had no idea. She gave no indication one way or the other. I walked towards the door. I felt like I was robbing the place, like any moment someone would stop me. But then, I walked outside in the evening air and let out a deep breath. I couldn’t ever remember being so happy.
Chapter 2: A Breach in the Wall
“This won’t be a regular thing,” I told myself that night when I got home. The euphoria of the moment had worn off a bit. I couldn’t deny that what I’d done had felt amazing, but now with my mind unclouded, I could see that I’d taken a tremendous risk. I’d taken my clothes off and performed a sex act essentially in public. The anonymity I found was nice, but it was largely illusory. I could’ve been caught. I promised myself that like my other risky behaviors before, that this would not become a habit.
I told myself that, but even that first night I knew I was lying. I’d tasted something so close to perfect that I’d have to go back for a second helping. And a third. And more. But at first I held off, trying to convince myself that the risk was greater than the reward. I kept my walls up and my head down.
But, just like every other time I’d done something, within a few weeks the relief I felt was slipping away. Dan and his ilk continued to annoy me, my work remained stressful and unfulfilling, and, most of all, I felt the need to be wanted somewhere. The old tension, the desire for human contact, was coming back. About a month after my first experience at the glory hole I went back. I was almost as nervous as my first trip, but the result was just as lovely. And, as time past, I started to go more frequently and my guard got lower.
Each time I went was a good experience. It always seemed to work, even though sometimes I had to wait longer than other times. This was clearly some sort of well-known place. In fact, there were times when I’d enter and find the place occupied and have to come back later. But I would always make my way back and get my opportunity. There apparently other people who needed what I needed and wanted… well, me.
Further, each time I went convinced me of the ultimate safety of my actions. And I learned, mostly through observing my various partners, the rules of etiquette around the glory hole. I learned that this kind of interaction really wasn’t a breach of the wall I’d built around myself, but just a small outlet. I was convinced that there was no danger of being exposed and no chance that anyone would know my shameful secret. In fact, I became a stickler for the rules. If someone would speak or try to linger after we were done I would rudely re-buff them. That served to insulate me and convince me I was safe.
I learned that as the person inserting my cock, I was not supposed to signal in any way. I learned that I was always supposed to wait for the other person to leave. I learned that I was not supposed to talk to the clerk of the pet store but that I should occasionally leave a tip, especially if I left a mess. I learned that no one ever talked and that absolutely secrecy was desired by everyone. In short, I learned that this was exactly the place I’d hoped it would be. Within a few months I was going after work every other week or so (though not on any fix schedule). I found that I was so content after these experiences that it was almost a challenge to remain a hard bitch at work. I had everything I wanted: security and sensuality. I imagined that I would continue in this way forever: quietly satisfying my sexual needs but maintaining my anonymity to protect my unsavory gender.