Behind the Veil: My Sensual Evolution in the Gloryhole Sanctuary
Weeks blurred into a rhythmic cycle, each day a flurry of anonymous encounters, yet never truly overwhelming. My average clientele hovered between ten and fifteen men daily, with predictable surges during the lunch hour and another wave just after five, as they sought a swift release before returning to their step-wives. I’d grown accustomed to the amusing charade of men taking calls mid-session, their muffled apologies – “Sorry, still working late,” or “Just stopped at the market, I’ll be home soon” – delivered with a mouthful of my services. A giggle might have betrayed us all if my mouth hadn’t been otherwise occupied. Luckily, my discretion held, and true to his word, that particular client indeed came soon.
It was fascinating how much I could discern from just a penis. Regulars became identifiable by subtle markers: a distinct mole, a unique curve, or a particular girth. The satisfaction of knowing I had repeat customers was immense; it validated my efforts, proving I was doing something exquisitely right.
My expertise deepened with each encounter. Initially, I navigated purely on instinct, but after an estimated 150 unique experiences, including my loyal patrons, I had mastered the art. Only about ten men had failed to climax under my ministrations, a rare occurrence that always left me with a pang of disappointment. Not only had they paid for satisfaction, but their release was also my personal reward – a delicious taste of success. While I couldn’t always consume it all, my subtle disposal went unnoticed, masked by a theatrical gulp and a grateful “Mmm, thank you.” I also discovered the magic of a slight gag; a tiny, involuntary sound that never failed to elicit a thrilling twitch from their aroused shafts. It was a power I relished.
My control extended further. On busier days, or when my mood was less inclined, I had tricks to expedite their climax. Conversely, if a particular shaft was appealing, or if I craved a more prolonged engagement, I’d slow my rhythm, teasing their balls, drawing them to the precipice of orgasm three or four times before finally allowing their potent blast to fill my mouth. “You’re such a tease,” and “Wow, you’re a proper cock-sucker,” became my favorite accolades. If only I could set up a review platform!
My bank account swelled, my car loan rapidly diminishing. I’d splurged on a new phone and the smartwatch I’d coveted for ages, all while carefully managing my spending to avoid awkward questions about my newfound prosperity.
My arrangement with the owner was a particular perk: rent-free in exchange for a couple of weekly blowjobs. Our little game involved him sliding whimsical notes through the hole instead of money—badly drawn twenty-pound notes, or requests like “Blowjob with fries, please.” They injected a welcome dose of humor into the routine. He possessed a truly appealing dick, which he claimed was seven inches, though I’d place it closer to six. Its girth was perfectly proportionate, a delightful fit for my mouth. After a minor complaint, he always ensured it was either impeccably smooth or neatly trimmed. I usually gave him my best performance, though occasionally I’d delight in making him cum in record time. After all, he couldn’t have all the fun.
A typical afternoon was winding down, perhaps four or five clients had come and gone, when the familiar buzzer signaled another arrival. Approaching the gloryhole, I saw a hand slide through, not with the usual cash, but a folded note. “Great,” I thought, anticipating another of the owner’s playful messages. It was nearing lunchtime, a perfect way to finish before a break, and I could then flip the sign to ‘closed.’
I unfolded the paper, expecting a quip. Instead: “Amazing blowjobs, but I’ll give you £50 if you let me fuck you. Knock once for yes and twice for no.”
It wasn’t the owner’s handwriting. This was from one of the regulars. I read it three, then four times. My immediate instinct screamed no. Stepping into this world of anonymous oral pleasure was one thing; allowing penetration was an entirely different game. My sexual history was limited to two boyfriends. Yet, my heart hammered against my ribs, and a shiver of illicit excitement traced its way through me. I’d watched gloryhole porn; I knew where this led. I made my decision, raising my hand to knock once for yes, then paused, ready to knock twice for no. But my hand froze. My heart raced, my mouth went dry, yet my hand remained poised. An eternity seemed to stretch, time simultaneously standing still. Then, a fifty-pound note slid through the hole. This was my chance to simply take the standard twenty for a blowjob. But the hand that had defied my initial instruction reached out, taking all the money. As I set the cash down, a condom-clad penis appeared. It was a good size for a first, perhaps 5.5 inches, reasonably thick but not overwhelming. Thankfully, I was in a skirt. I lifted it, slid off my thong, and bent over, presenting my eager pussy to the opening. Pornography made it seem effortless, but the reality was a battle of awkward angles; I had to half-bend, half-squat, my legs burning with effort.
Two fingers probed through the hole, caressing my wet folds. Despite my nerves, a surge of excitement fueled me for this first anonymous fuck. His fingers swiftly withdrew, replaced by his cock. The opening was snug, and he struggled to find his target. I leaned back, grasped his shaft, guided it to my entrance, and slowly slid back, taking him fully into my taut, wet pussy. A soft moan escaped my lips, and I bit down, hearing his answering groan. I began to rock, slowly at first, taking him completely before retreating slightly. My legs began to ache, so once he was fully buried, I pressed my pussy against the wall as much as I could. He understood the cue, initiating a steady thrusting rhythm, moans echoing from both sides of the wall. He started gently, building speed, a challenging feat given the small hole, but the sensation was incredible. Fucked by a stranger I might have passed a dozen times on the street. His pace and power intensified, and I felt him nearing his peak. I accelerated my own rocking to meet his thrusts, and then he drove deep, his cock twitching in the condom, deep inside me.
After a few seconds, he pulled out and withdrew. I collapsed to the floor, sweating, my legs burning, but suffused with a profound sense of excitement and satisfaction radiating through my body and pussy. I grabbed my phone, texting the owner: “I need a quick break. I’ll let you know when I’m back.”
“Everything okay?” he replied.
“Yes, fine. I’ll tell you after the shop closes.”
The afternoon was relatively calm, only four more clients, but my mind was consumed by the recent encounter. After closing, I joined the owner for a cup of tea. “So… what happened earlier?” he probed.
I recounted the entire experience, watching the shock and surprise bloom across his face. “You truly are something special,” he murmured. “So, will you do it again?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so,” I replied, still tingling. “I was so nervous, but it was the most exciting thing I’ve ever done. I’m still shaking from it.” I paused. “But can we make some changes? Can we make the hole bigger and higher?”
We moved into the room to ‘measure up,’ eventually deciding on a clever solution: a small, hinged door that could open for sex and close for blowjobs, preserving complete anonymity for both services. We also created a discreet sign to hang inside: ‘Blowjob £20, Fuck £50.’ The modifications would take a few days, which was perfectly fine.
I received a message notifying me the changes were complete, asking if I could come in early to inspect everything. I arrived thirty minutes ahead of schedule and surveyed the business side of the gloryhole. From my vantage, it looked perfect, but I couldn’t open it myself. “What do you think?” the owner’s voice startled me, making me nearly jump out of my skin. “For fuck’s sake, you scared me half to death! It looks fine from this side, what about yours?”
“Looks good,” he confirmed, “but there’s only one way to be certain.” Before I could fully process his words, the new door swung open, and a familiar penis appeared, already sheathed in a condom.
“Haha, I haven’t even had my breakfast yet!” I exclaimed.
“We have to ensure it functions,” he replied, “Wouldn’t want to disappoint our patrons,” even as I was already discarding my skirt and panties. I gave his cock a playful flick before bending, presenting my bare pussy to the opening. He swiftly brought the tip of his dick to my entrance, clearly intending to tease, to rub his head along my folds. But before he could, I thrust back, taking his dick deep inside me in a single, eager motion. “Fuck!” I cried out, as he filled my tight, eager pussy. He wasn’t massive, but he was the most substantial I’d taken to date, and the sensation was divine. “So, that’s how you want to play it, is it?” he chuckled. He adjusted his stance for better balance, then began to fuck me. The last guy had started slowly, but this was an all-out assault from the very beginning! With the enlarged opening, the experience was vastly improved; I could feel his groin slapping against my ass, unhindered by the wall. The sheer excitement and anticipation of the new gloryhole, coupled with the vigorous fucking, sent my legs trembling. My orgasm hit me with a little yelp, leaving me barely enough energy to remain standing, but that clenching must have tightened my pussy around his dick, as I soon felt his balls tense, and he began to cum.
“I think it’s fair to say it works,” he panted, and I heard him pulling up his trousers, the zipper closing.
“I’d say so,” I breathlessly agreed.
“One more thing,” I added.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Black coffee, please.”
He left the room laughing as I regained my composure, sitting down to catch my breath for the day ahead.