Another Sunday at the Hole

I spent much of Sunday morning at the mercy of friends. When finally I got some alone time at around five-thirty, I flipped up the lid of my notebook and logged onto Manhunt. My buddy with the private gloryhole, Urlipsmypole, was online. I opened up and looked at his profile. I knew that’s all it would take. My name would appear on the list of who viewed him, and if he wanted me, he’d let me know.

It didn’t take thirty seconds for my menubar to flash that I had mailing waiting. Haven’t seen you in a while, he wrote. It had been all of three weeks, really. Let me know when we can meet again.

My reply was more direct. How about now? I wrote. I can be there in 10 minutes. All I need to do is pull on my pants.

You put yours on and I’ll take mine off, he said. See you in 10.

I love it when hookups are that simple.

The guy lives in my neighborhood; all I have to do is drive a few blocks east, head north, and cross one semi-major road to get to his house. As always, his back yard was immaculate. I wasn’t admiring his even clumps of cornflowers or his freshly-painted birdhouses, though, when I opened the latch to his gate and let myself onto his back porch. I was too busily thrusting my hands deep in my jeans to conceal the erection snaking down one pants leg. Once I’d closed the door behind me, though, my hands scrambled to loosen the buttons of my fly. I dropped my jeans below my knees, and knelt down on the pillows set before the wooden partition, dick in hand.

The hole was at face level before me, shadowed by the form in the kitchen beyond. Both that room and the porch lay in the artificial twilight of drawn shades and blinds and shutters; it was possible for me to see the outlines of forms, but little else. When the man’s dick eased out through the hole, though, I could see it well enough. I sighed, and touched it, and brought it to my mouth.

It had occurred to me on my short drive over that perhaps I could get some photos, or maybe even a video while I nursed on my buddy’s dick through the hole. Secretly, of course—I didn’t want the flash going off during the experience, giving the game away. I’d brought up my phone’s camera application while driving, and turned off the phone’s volume so there wouldn’t be any of those giveaway clicking noises.

As I began to suck my anonymous friend’s meat, angling my head so that it could accommodate its downward curve, I fished in my pocket and withdrew the device and turned it on by feel. As I still sucked, getting his rod slick with my spit and letting him enjoy the warmth of his mouth, out of the corner of my eyes I peered at the camera and tried to adjust the settings. Then I positioned my finger over what I hoped was the on-screen shutter button, pointed it in the general direction of my face, and pressed.

Then I repeated it a couple of more times, hoping something would take.

I wasn’t there with the goal only of taking photos of myself sucking dick, though; that wasn’t my primary purpose. I had a cock to please. So I put the camera back in my pocket and got back to the matter at hand. I squeezed the guy’s shaft with the palm of my right hand, took both of his nuts in my mouth and sucked on them, and then returned my attention to my buddy’s engorged, dripping cock head.

I’m not sure if the camera inspired my cocksucking, Sunday afternoon, or whether he or I were just unusually horny, but I had the man close to orgasm in almost no time flat. Usually I work him to a climax slowly, using first my mouth alone and then using my fingers, one by one, for more stimulation. Sunday, however, I didn’t need any of that. I had stuck the first joint of my left index finger into my mouth as I sucked and gotten it wet. Then I simply applied its tip to his taint, right at the area directly behind his sack. Something about the slippery stimulus right at that spot pushed my friend to the edge very closely. I heard him gasp; his started thrusting through the cutout hole and banging his hips into the plywood so that it rattled with every grind. “Oh, fuck,” I heard him say on the other side.

I slipped my finger back into my mouth and gently stroked it along the underside of his tightening nut sack, using the same motion I might to tell someone to come closer. He did come closer, and closer. His breath came in ragged pulses, and before I knew it, I felt his dick force itself forward, deeper down my mouth until the tip was lodged in my throat. Then he started to unload.

Gush after gush came, out, collecting in the back of my mouth and in my throat. I forced my windpipe to stay open, and willed myself not to choke on the volume of sperm he was pushing out. Finally, though, it subsided. I opened my mouth and my throat, collected as much of it as I could, and swallowed in one gulp. I savored the salty fluid as it went down. Then I clamped my mouth around his dick again, as I fisted myself to my own climax.

He always waits for me to finish, when I suck him. His pleasure comes first, then mine. I came noisily, my grunts and cries muffled by the cock plugging my mouth, the harsh huffs of air from my nose cooling the top of his dick. My semen went all over the floor—the pillow, the towels covering it, the stairs leading up to the kitchen, the plywood. I shuddered, and closed my eyes.

Then he withdrew, knowing I was done. “Damn!” I heard him call out in the darkness. “I needed that, boy!” I could see his lean form stride away from the partition between us, as he padded off in search of clothing. That was my cue to pull up my jeans, button up, and get the hell out.

Some of his cum was still on my lips at that point. I didn’t want to wipe it away quite yet. “Thank you,” I whispered through the hole, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me, and that he wasn’t listening. “Thank you so much.”

I don’t get to indulge that side of my desires very often. The opportunity always deserves thanks.

(For a dark video of part of the experience, please visit my Xtube page. The things I do for you guys!)