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Nifty - Gay - Relationships - Glory Hole Sagas - Glory Hole Sagas 1

 
Date: Sun, 1 Aug 2010 20:39:00 -0400
From: oldtimer25@gmail.com
Subject: "Glory Hole Sagas"

It Started At A Glory Hole
Chapter One

My First Glory Hole

I love glory holes. For me, they are the gateway to exciting adventures.
The first time I ever saw a glory hole was when I was a sophomore in
college. It was 1970, and I was 19 years old. At the time, I definitely
considered myself straight. I had been having sex with girls since I was
16. I had two "regular girlfriends" at the time, who both knew that I was
balling the other one, and I knew they both had other guys - which to me at
the time was a perfect situation. I had been dating both since the previous
spring. Since the beginning of that fall quarter I had become mesmerized by
this very beautiful girl in my math class with enormous knockers who always
wore tight sweaters, and I would ogle them whenever I was around her,
squirming in my seat with sexual tension. I was positive that if I even
talked to her, I'd pop a load in my pants. It wasn't JUST her perfect tits:
she was one of the most beautiful girls on campus. There was a short jock
in a varsity team jacket who seemed to feel he had a claim in her. She
seemed to be of a different opinion, but I never sat close enough to the
two of them to hear their low discussions, which for all I know was a form
of foreplay.

On the other hand, late the year before I had found myself looking closely
at the bodies, cocks and asses of the guys in the locker room, and in the
public bathrooms at our dorms. Now, I had played second string football in
high school, so I had always thought of myself as a typical straight `jock`
kind of guy. So why did I keep getting a hard on looking at guys?
Especially the older muscular, hairy guys? To say the least, I was
realizing that I was very confused about my sexual identity, and in 1970,
this was NOT a topic commonly discussed in a small college in a small,
conservative Midwestern town. Let me change that: I had been raised in an
even smaller, even more conservative town, where it was not a topic a young
man brought up at all if he did not want to get beaten up and possibly
gang-raped.

That's not to say I was a TOTAL stranger to sex with other guys. When I was
13, I had a bunch of friends who would get together for circle jerks. Pat
was the oldest boy in the group, two years older than the rest of us. He
was big and dumb and strong, and had been left back twice in elementary
school, which was why he was in our class. After awhile he introduced blow
jobs to the circle-jerk group by pressuring us to agree that the first boy
to cum would give one to the last boy left. The guys who argued against the
plan were labeled "chicken faggots", so all but one boy agreed. We ended up
"playing our game" at least once a week, often more. Usually Pat was that
last one to empty his nuts, but even he had to suck cock occasionally.

The first time we did it I lost, and had to suck Pat. I sort of liked being
the center of attention, and didn't mind the salty taste of his cum. The
second time we played the "game", Pat had to suck MY cock, which I liked
even better. "The Game" stopped when the guys in the group started dating
girls at about 16.

(Come to think of it: why was an 18 year old Pat still regularly "playing
the game" with us, even though he had been boasting about his conquests
with "pussy". for 2 years...?)

I did stay close to one friend from that group, Paul, who often spent the
night at my house. If we had a double date and didn't score, we'd "help
each other out", sucking each other off. If one of us got laid and the
other didn't, we still sucked each other. Paul and I never kissed, and we
never thought to do anything other than take turns getting a blow
job. Paul's family moved to Japan in our senior year, and we wrote to each
other a few times a year, but now he was in college in California. In 1970,
we were still sending short letters to each other, mostly about the sex we
had with women.

I had lost my virginity with a girl on my 16th birthday, in the backseat of
a car where Paul was screwing his date in the front seat. The fact that my
first heterosexual experience was within a few inches of a boy with whom I
regularly exchanged blow jobs was both confusing and exciting. I sort of
worried that Paul's presence was what made sex with my date possible, but
the next night we successfully repeated our performance while alone in her
family room. I was happy that I had a close enough relationship with my
elderly dad that I was able to tell him the details of my first two sexual
adventures when he retuned from a week long business trip. I was
particularly grateful because he was dead less than a year later, and I had
the comfort of knowing he died knowing that I was "a man", something that
had seemed very important to him.

I dated a bit during my freshman year until I found the two girls how I
ended up having my sporadic sexual relationships with. Neither allowed me
to take it for granted that a date would end in sex; and both let me know
that just as I was dating another girl, they were dating another guy. Not
being ready for a commitment, I was happy, sexually, during my freshman
year, but my sophomore year had me confused.

There were a number of specific reasons for my growing confusion.

At my small private college, we were required to take phys. ed. every
'quarter'. (The school year at our small college was divided into 3
`quarters', the fourth `summer quarter' being dedicated to an
internationally famous arts program.) That fall 'quarter' of my sophomore
year I took fencing at the suggestion of one of my freshman
phys. ed. instructors, who thought it might help my somewhat weak hand/eye
coordination.

We had assigned lockers in the locker room. The guy with the locker next to
mine was an older guy, Sam, who was in my fencing class. He had served in
the Army in Vietnam, and had a puckered scar on his shoulder, and another
on his hip. He was in his late 20's, muscular, and very hairy. He was about
three inches taller than my 6'1", and seemed very mature to me. He told me
that he lived off campus with his wife and baby. Sam was from Texas, and
usually dressed like a cowboy. I liked his easy drawl which made everything
he said sound sort of sexy. What fascinated me the most was Sam's big uncut
dick, which had a brown birthmark on the middle shaped like an arrowhead
pointing towards his luxurious mound of pubic hair. All my buddies and I
were cut, and I had never seen an uncut cock up close. Sam was not shy
about being naked. I often found myself sitting on the bench and Sam's fat,
foreskin covered dong would be inches from my face. I tried not to stare,
but sometimes I couldn't help myself, especially when Sam was half hard,
which seemed to be most of the time. Sam caught me at it a few times, but
just grinned and winked at me. I always blushed when that happened,
confused by the feelings I was having. All I knew was that whenever I got a
good look at Sam`s uncut hose, I had to run to the Men's Room and whack off
fast and furious!

The other person who was causing me confusion that quarter was my Creative
Writing instructor, Mr. Hamilton. This was the first year that Mr. Hamilton
was teaching, having just gotten his master's degree the previous spring
from our college, which was also where he got his undergraduate degree. He
was very handsome and even taller than Sam, with curly red hair. He always
dressed casually in baggy sweaters, open at the top to revealed a lot of
hair on what appeared to be a massive chest. The baggy clothes frustrated
the hell out of me (and a lot of the girls in the class) because you really
couldn't tell what his body looked like under his clothes. He had a beard
and bushy mustache the same bright red as his hair. I stared at that beard
and mustache so much, I often forgot to listen to the class. All I knew was
that I wanted to kiss his full lips and lick his mustache and his hairy
chest, and had to run to jerk off after every English class.

And for some reason I still though of myself as totally straight!

I preferred to think of myself as `normal", because the alternative was a
lot of nasty words like "pansy", "queer" and "faggot". During the past
summer I had read an article in a national news magazine about a group of
homosexuals who insisted on using the word "gay" instead of those words. I
found myself trying out the word "gay" in my head every time I had to jerk
off after an encounter with a hot man. This was happening more frequently
as October started. Not just Sam and Mr. Hamilton, but a number of other
older students and some of the school's support staff, such as security
guards and gardeners, would send me running to a toilet to manhandle my
overheated young man-meat.

One Wednesday morning Mr. Hamilton asked me with his killer smile to stop
by his office anytime in the afternoon to discuss my latest short story. He
told me his office was in the basement of Administration Building, one of
the college's original building, built about 100 years old as the college's
library. Many junior faculty had their offices down in that basement, and
there was also storage rooms and other mysterious spaces with
machinery. Because the building had been built to hold the weight of a lot
of books, the walls were a series of brick arches, making the place look
like a catacomb. I had never been down there before and was surprised by
the number of people, mostly men, who were making their way through the
confusing maze of unmarked corridors. I got lost a few times, and finally
found Mr. Hamilton at his desk, his office door open.

He told me that he thought I should edit and submit my latest short story
to the college's literary magazine, which usually only accepted submission
from seniors, and a rare junior, and offered to help me prepare it. The
idea of being alone with him frequently got me very excited, so I readily
agreed. We made an appointment for me to come back on Friday afternoon to
review my new draft. I left his office with a roaring hard on, and was
happy to see a Men's Room tucked away down a dead end corridor almost
directly across from Mr. Hamilton's office. I didn't walk down that hallway
- I ran.

There were three cubicles in the room, and the center one was available. I
pulled down my pants, sat on the crapper and went to work whacking on my
woody. Then I took the time to I looked around and noticed that on either
side of me were large holes at about waist height. Over the one on my right
was scrawled "For a blow job, show a hard on." I kept jerking off when an
eye appeared in the hole. It was replaced by a mouth, and a hoarse whisper
said: "Let me suck your pecker, kid." I was so turned on, I didn't think
twice, but shoved my fat 9" hard on into the waiting mouth.

This cock sucker was 100 times better than any of my old pals. Then he
reached his hand through the bottom of the hole and pulled my balls
through, and started to lick them. No one had ever done that to me, and it
drove me up the wall. I was holding on the top of the partition and banging
my hips against the hole. The mouth swallowed my entire cock, and used his
tongue and throat muscles on me to drive me crazy. Soon I was hissing: "I'm
gonna fucking cum, man!" and he sucked harder. I blasted a massive load
into his sucking mouth, and he licked every drop off.

I slumped to the seat, exhausted. I noticed an eye in the other hole, and
could hear the sounds of a man pounding his pud in that stall. Knowing
someone had gotten turned on watching me fuck the other man's face really
thrilled me. Then the hoarse whisper said: "Now, it's your turn to suck my
pecker, kid, right?"

I was so turned on I whispered: "OK" and a long, uncut hard on with an
arrow shaped birthmark near the base slid through the hole. I gasped. I
would know that fucking cock anywhere - it was Sam! Looking down at the
bottom of the partition, I saw the pointy toes of cowboy boots. I fell to
my knees and was able to finally explored his foreskin with my fingers and
tongue.

He whispered: "Chew on the skin, kid. That fucking turns me on." and I did
as I was told. I loved it as much as his moans told me HE loved it.

After a while, I began to suck his cock. I knew I wasn't as good a cock
sucker as Sam, and I had never sucked such a fat, long cock, but I did my
best, and got about half of the 10" cock into my mouth before I gagged. I
slobbered spit on my hand, and used it to jerk the part that I couldn't fit
in my mouth, while I tried to use my tongue the way Sam had used his on
me. I must have been doing something right, because after about five
minutes, he began to grunt and groan. His cock got harder and fatter. He
shouted "Aw, fuck! You`re such a hot fucking pecker-eater!" and filled my
mouth with his hot load. I almost drowned in the load, but managed to get
it all down my throat.

The cock disappeared, and I heard, "Thanks kid, I need that. I'm always
here this time on Wednesdays and Fridays. I'd like to do this again with
you, kid." I heard the door to his cubicle open, and heard him leave the
room. Under my cubical door, I saw the brown cowboy boots Sam always wore.

I had gotten hard again sucking Sam. I heard a whisper from the other hole:
"Let me take care of that for you, stud." Horny as hell, I moved over as
the lips opened, and filled his throat with my cock. After a short time
sucking me, he stopped to whisper; "Fuck my face, stud." He took me in to
the root, and I began to thrust in and out. Having just shot a big load,
the lucky cock sucker was getting a long session on my hard cock.

I was disappointed when the mouth left my cock, but I felt him doing
something to my hard dick, so I stood still. I felt flesh against my cock
head, and then something amazingly tight and hot enveloped my prick. I
almost shot my load in surprise. I heard the man in the next stall grunt as
the tightness worked it`s way up my cock, and he sighed when it hit the
root of my cock. I realized he had impaled his ass on my dick!

Not knowing what to do, I stood there, wallowing in the pleasure of the
tightest, hottest feeling my young cock had ever experienced. My cock was
throbbing like crazy. When I calmed down, he voice whispered: "Fuck the
shit out of me, buddy!" I pounded so hard against that wall that I ended up
with bruises on my hips for two days. I heard my partner grunting and
moaning in pleasure, and then he whispered loudly "I'm going to blow my
fucking load, man! You got me so fucking hot! Aw, shit!!! Ram it all the
way in, man!"

I did, and suddenly I felt the most remarkable sensation. His ass muscles
were spasming all around my cock. I felt like his ass would squash my prick
flat! Helpless, I hollered "Oh, damn! Your fucking ass is so hot! Here I
go! AARRRGH!!!!" as I dumped a load in the tight ass.

My cock grew soft in his ass, and slowly plopped out. I just leaned against
the wall, unable to move. I heard the man whisper: "Hey, stud, that was
great. Just what I needed. Uh... could you do me a big favor, buddy?"

"Sure, man."

"Uh... Would you mind kissing me?"

I thought for a few seconds. Why not? This man had given me the hottest sex
of my young life. "Yeah. I never kissed a guy before, but..." Then I saw
his mouth appear in the hole with an unmistakable red bushy mustache over
it. Those lips I stared at so often were under them! I had watched them
talk to me less than a half hour before just down the hall. I knelt and
kissed his lips. I groaned, and his tongue licked my lips. I pushed my
tongue in his mouth, and we dueled with our tongues for a while. I
retreated, and licked his mustache, then kissed his lips one more time.
Then I heard him leave the john.

As I pulled my pants up, I realized that I WAS probably "gay", and suddenly
I didn't mind it. Not at all. It was better than being totally confused. I
grinned to myself as I lit a cigarette. I decided that I would soon be
confronting both Mr. Hamilton and Sam, so we could have sex in a fucking
bed! I couldn't wait for Friday, when I would be seeing both of these studs
in this basement again!

But that is another story.
 
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Nifty - Gay - Relationships - Glory Hole Sagas - Glory Hole Sagas 1