The glory hole

Every single time I go on a road trip, I inspect the service station, desperately hoping that I’ll encounter a glory hole – you know, a hole cut into the wall so someone in a cubicle or room next door can poke their dick through in the hope that the person on the other side will accept their invitation to grab it. Something about the furtive, anonymous nature of dick-through-hole cocksucking makes all of my insides clench with lust. I’ve never been lucky enough to find one, much less find one with a willing cock poking through, even in some of those awesome love hotels they have in Japan. Luckily for me glory holes exist elsewhere too, and this week’s guest blogger has been kind enough to write up his experience with one.

When this story dropped into my inbox I nearly spat out my coffee, then popped off for a frantic wank while I thought about all the hot gay sex that happens in it. Please take that as a warning that this blog is in no way safe for work, and is best read while you’re tucked up in bed with one hand down your pants and the door firmly closed.

It was very simple – I wanted a man. Any man.

I had known I was queer for a while, but had never had sex with another guy. I had gone to a cruising club once but had been too nervous to approach anyone and I left frustrated, wanking furiously when I got home as I thought of what I had seen, and what I hadn’t done.

So when I booked a holiday to Berlin, I decided I would pick one of the many cruising clubs and try again. When I arrived in the city, I didn’t hang around. Half an hour after leaving the hotel, I walked towards the club… and walked straight past it. I couldn’t go in. Three walks around the block later, my horniness overpowered my nerves and I went inside. I paid in the shop and went through an innocent looking door between racks of dildos and lube.

It was dark, and very warm. There were televisions showing films of men fucking and sucking. I wanted that. The anticipation I felt was unbearable. My heart was pounding and I shoved my hand inside my trousers and squeezed my cock. It was hot and hard against my palm.

Ok, I thought, more confidently than I felt. I made it – when does the hot gay sex happen?

The corridor stretched before me. While I waited for the hot gay sex to happen, I explored. There were rooms off to the side, some with a bed, some with just room to stand. They all had a glory hole in the wall. The doors to some of the rooms were closed, and I could hear muffled grunting and moaning coming from inside. One of the doors was ajar and I stopped and watched as a guy vigorously fucked his partner. His back glistened with sweat, and his balls slapped against the other guy’s arse as their bodies met.

I carried on. There were benches, armchairs and alcoves. There were guys walking round, and guys sitting watching the porn on the televisions, touching themselves. What was the etiquette? Should I approach them? I didn’t speak the language well enough, and they didn’t seem keen on making eye contact. Were they playing it cool? Or were they as nervous as I was?

I kept walking round looking furtively at guys I passed – at their crotches, their hands, their shoulders. Too nervous to look them in the eye. I wanted one of them to walk over, grab me, rub up against me and take me into one of the rooms. No one did, so I kept walking. I felt more desperate with every minute. My cock throbbed harder, and my balls ached painfully. My whole body was thrumming with lust. After a few more minutes, I had an idea. Surely if I go into one of the rooms, someone will notice, right? Someone will see me go in, or see that the door is closed, and go in the room next door.

Please.

So I did. And a minute or two later, so did someone else.

I closed the door behind me and with trembling hands undid my belt and my trousers, letting them fall to my ankles. I got a condom from my pocket and fumbled with it before I got it on. I spat in my hand and slowly slid it up and down my cock. Then I heard footsteps next door.

I looked through the glory hole but at first just saw shadows. Then a face appeared. I couldn’t really tell what he looked like. But I didn’t care. I could see the look in his eyes as they met mine, and as his gaze shifted to my cock. I didn’t try to say anything. What was the German for “oh god please suck me”, anyway? I just met his eye, spat in my hand again and kept stroking. He licked his lips and opened his mouth.

I shuffled forward, and pushed my cock through the hole. He took it in his hot mouth and started to massage it with his lips and tongue. He moaned, the sound muffled by my cock, but I was louder. Oh god. FINALLY. There was a man on his knees sucking my dick. A man I couldn’t see. Part of me wished that I had a proper view of what was happening, but being sucked off by an unseen, hungry mouth was driving me wild.

My excitement was such that it only took a couple of minutes of him sucking and licking my cock and tugging on my balls before I felt an orgasm start to build. I groaned more, louder, and desperately pushed my crotch against the wall, begging him to take me deeper. My knees buckled, I grunted noisily and came hard, my body shuddering against the wall and my cock twitching in his mouth. Neither of us moved until I had stopped spasming. I pulled out, drawing a line of drool from his mouth.

Still breathing heavily, I removed the condom, pulled my trousers up and buckled my belt. But I didn’t try to say anything. I didn’t want to – that would have broken the spell, and I still felt a bit overwhelmed. So I just opened the door and headed back out into the city.