My Girlfriend Feeds Me My First Gloryhole Cock

The neon outside the adult arcade smeared pink across the wet sidewalk, and Barrett kept both hands jammed in his jacket so Priya would not feel them tremble. He was twenty-two, broad through the shoulders, and he had carried this particular hunger since he was old enough to admit it to himself and no earlier: a dark booth, a hole cut in the wall, a stranger’s cock offered with no face and no name, and his own mouth closing around it. Saying it out loud to his girlfriend had felt like stepping off a roof. Priya, twenty, petite enough that the top of her head tucked under his chin, had listened on their apartment couch without blinking, then kissed the corner of his mouth and told him she wanted to be in the room when it happened.

The door buzzed them in after the attendant checked both IDs. Twenty-one and over, the sign said, and the man behind the counter was gray at the temples and bored in the way of someone who had seen every nervous couple in the city. Barrett paid for a booth in cash. Priya’s small hand found his as they walked the narrow hall, past the low thump of porn through thin partitions, past the smell of disinfectant and warm plastic. She wore a short black skirt and a thin tank top, no bra, and the cool air had already drawn her nipples tight. Every step made his pulse knock harder against his throat.

“Still want it?” she asked, quiet, close to his ear.

“Yeah.” His voice came out rough. “If you do.”

“I do.” She squeezed his fingers. “I’ve been wet about it since you told me. Lock us in.”

The booth was barely wider than a closet. A padded bench ran along one wall. A screen glowed blue and silent in the corner, some movie already running with the sound down. Two gloryholes had been cut clean through the side panels, each about waist height, the edges worn smooth by years of use. Barrett slid the bolt. The click sounded enormous. For a second neither of them moved. Then Priya turned, rose onto her toes, and kissed him like she meant to steady him with her mouth.

He kissed her back harder than he meant to. Her lips were soft and insistent, her tongue sliding against his, and the fear in his chest flipped into heat so fast he groaned into her. She laughed once, breathless, and walked him backward until his calves hit the bench. Outside, a shadow shifted past one of the holes. An eye, maybe. A presence. Barrett felt it like a hand on the back of his neck.

“They’re already looking,” Priya whispered. She was smiling. “Good. Let them.”

She peeled his jacket off his shoulders and dropped it on the bench. Her fingers worked his belt open with a confidence that made his cock jump against the denim. When she got his pants down to mid-thigh, she wrapped her small hand around him and stroked once, slow, from base to tip, spreading the slick already beading there. Barrett’s head tipped back against the wall. On the screen, bodies moved. Through the nearer gloryhole, he caught the glint of a watching eye and then the dark of it pulling back, replaced by the shape of a man shifting his weight on the other side. Adult, broad, silent. Waiting.

Priya climbed into his lap, skirt riding up, and ground her bare panties against his cock. The cotton was soaked. She kissed him deep, open-mouthed, filthy, and let her hands roam—his chest, his stomach, the sensitive skin just above his waistband—while she rocked. Barrett slid his palms up under her tank and filled them with her small breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until she whimpered into his mouth. He could feel the watchers the way he felt the bass through the wall: not seen clearly, but present, hungry, paying for the show they were putting on without a word of discussion. It made his skin prickle. It made Priya wetter. She reached between them, tugged her panties aside, and dragged the head of his cock through her folds so the strangers would see the shine of her on him.

“Look at you,” she murmured against his jaw. “Hard already, and we haven’t even started the part you came for.”

She slipped off his lap and knelt between his knees, petite and deliberate, and took him into her mouth. Barrett’s hand found her hair. She sucked him slow, cheeks hollowing, eyes lifted to his, putting on every inch of it for whoever was pressed to the holes. A low sound came from the other side of the wall—approval, or need. Priya pulled off with a wet pop, licked a stripe up his shaft, and turned her face toward the nearer gloryhole like she was inviting whatever waited there to come closer.

Barrett hauled her up and spun her so her back met his chest. He got a hand under her skirt again, two fingers sliding into her while his other hand cupped her breast and offered it to the dark. She rode his fingers and moaned without trying to be quiet. The booth smelled like her, like both of them, like the faint chemical sweetness of the arcade. An eye returned to the left hole. On the right, something else moved: a body stepping in, a belt unbuckling, the soft sound of skin and fabric.

Priya saw it first. She went still on his fingers, then smiled, wicked and fond, and nodded toward the hole.

A cock pushed through.

It was thick, flushed dark at the head, already hard, the shaft veined and heavy as it jutted into their little room. No face. No voice. Just that, offered, the rest of the man a shadow beyond the panel—an adult stranger who had paid to stand there and wait, the same as they had paid to be on this side. Barrett’s stomach dropped and then clenched with want so sharp he almost laughed. His own cock throbbed against Priya’s ass.

“Oh,” she said, soft and delighted. She reached out with her small fingers and wrapped them around the base. The stranger jerked, a muffled grunt coming through the wall. Priya stroked him once, slow, from where he emerged from the hole to the swollen head, her thumb smearing a clear drop across the slit. “He’s so hard for us.”

Barrett couldn’t look away. The cock filled her hand. She stroked again, unhurried, learning the weight of it, the way the skin moved over the rigid core. She glanced back over her shoulder, into Barrett’s eyes, and the look there was pure encouragement—no tease that would let him hide, no pressure that would let him pretend he hadn’t asked for this.

“Come closer,” she said. “I want you to see him. I want you to feel what I’m feeling.”

He shifted around her, knees on the sticky floor of the booth, heart hammering. Priya kept stroking, her free hand finding Barrett’s wrist and drawing him in until he was kneeling beside her, close enough that the heat of the stranger’s cock reached his face. She angled it toward him. The head bumped his lower lip, hot and velvet-smooth, tasting faintly of salt and skin. Barrett’s breath shook.

“You don’t have to,” she whispered, though her eyes said she knew he did. “But I want to watch you take him. I’ve wanted to watch you since you told me. Open up for me, Barrett.”

He opened.

The head slid over his tongue, thick and alive, and the sound he made was helpless. Heat. Weight. The blunt pressure of it filling his mouth in a way his own hand never had, in a way Priya’s mouth on him had only hinted at from the other side. He sealed his lips around the shaft and sank down an inch, then another, savoring the velvety drag, the pulse he could feel against his tongue. His eyes fluttered shut. Years of wanting collapsed into the simple fact of a cock in his mouth, and he loved it—loved the stretch at the corner of his lips, the way his jaw had to soften to take more, the salty leak painting his tongue.

“God,” Priya breathed. “Look at you.”

She watched with her lips parted, lust bright in her face, one small hand still wrapped around the base where Barrett’s mouth couldn’t reach, stroking in time with the bob of his head. Her other hand found his cock, hanging heavy and leaking between his thighs, and she gripped him firm and slow, pumping him while he sucked. The double sensation made his hips jerk. He hollowed his cheeks and took the stranger deeper, nose brushing Priya’s knuckles, throat fluttering around the head. A groan rolled through the wall. The cock twitched on his tongue.

“That’s it,” Priya murmured, close to his ear, filthy and sweet. “Suck him. You look so hungry. I can see how much you love it. Don’t stop. Let him feel that pretty mouth.”

Barrett didn’t want to stop. He set a rhythm, wet and eager, pulling back to tongue the slit, then sliding down again until his lips met her fingers. Spit shone on the shaft. Priya smeared it with her strokes, feeding him length, occasionally guiding the angle so the head rubbed the roof of his mouth. She kissed his temple, his cheek, never taking her eyes off the place where the stranger disappeared between his lips. Every time Barrett moaned around the cock, she squeezed his own erection harder, thumb circling the head, spreading his precum until her palm was slick.

“You’re throbbing in my hand,” she said. “You could come just from this, couldn’t you? From sucking a cock while I watch. While they watch.” She tipped her chin toward the other hole, where an eye had returned, fixed on them. “Show them. Show me.”

He sucked with growing hunger, sloppy now, devoted. Minutes stretched. His jaw ached in the best way. The stranger’s hips began to press at the wall, shallow thrusts that Barrett met by opening wider, taking what was given. Priya stroked both of them—the thick anonymous shaft and Barrett’s flushed cock—and whispered a steady stream of praise and filth against his hair. You’re so good at this. I knew you would be. Take him deeper. I want to see you swallow when he gives it to you.

The cock swelled. The rhythm broke. A choked sound came through the panel, and then it erupted—hot, sudden, thick ropes of cum pulsing straight onto Barrett’s tongue and against the back of his throat. He held still, lips sealed, and let it fill his mouth the way he had imagined for years, salty and heavy and endless, pulse after pulse until the stranger shuddered and went slack. Barrett didn’t swallow. He kept it, cheeks full, eyes wet, cock jerking in Priya’s fist.

She saw. Her smile went molten. She eased the softening cock from his lips with careful fingers, a last strand of cum bridging to his lower lip, and turned his face to hers.

“Give it to me,” she said.

He kissed her. She opened for him at once, tongue sliding in, and they shared it—messy, deep, the stranger’s cum passing between their mouths while she kept stroking Barrett’s cock and he clutched her waist like he might fall through the floor. She moaned into the kiss, swallowed some, pushed some back, licked the corner of his mouth clean, and laughed once, breathless and proud, against his teeth.

“You did it,” she said. “You tasted so good with him in your mouth. I could watch you do that forever.”

Barrett was shaking, hard as iron, mouth still flavored with salt and her. He had barely drawn a full breath when the right-hand hole darkened again. A second cock slid through—longer than the first, a little curved, the head flushed and already wet, belonging to another grown man who had been watching and waiting his turn. It bobbed in the dim blue light, insistent.

Priya’s eyes lit. She looked from the new cock to Barrett’s face, reading him, and what she found there made her beam.

“Another one,” she said. “You want him too.”

“Yes.” No hesitation left in it. “Please.”

She guided the shaft with her small hand, stroking it twice so the stranger would know they were there, then set her other hand on the back of Barrett’s head. Not forcing. Offering. Her fingers threaded into his hair, warm and sure, and she eased him forward until his lips met the new head. Barrett opened and took it, groaning at the different shape, the curve that pressed his tongue down, the fresh heat after the first. Priya’s hand stayed on him, a gentle weight, encouraging the rhythm she already knew he loved.

“There you go,” she whispered. She kissed the side of his neck, open-mouthed, while he worked the new shaft, sucking deep and eager, lost in the shared thrill of it. “God, you look so hot sucking cock. My boyfriend, on his knees, mouth full, putting on a show. Don’t you dare stop until he comes in you too.”

Barrett hollowed his cheeks and sank down, Priya’s hand riding the motion of his head, her lips trailing heat along his throat. She stroked what he couldn’t take and whispered how proud she was, how wet she was, how she was going to ride him in this booth the second he was done and make him tell her exactly how both of them had tasted. The second cock pulsed against his tongue. He sucked harder, hungry for it, for her praise, for the filthy little room and the eyes and the fact that she had brought him here and stayed. When it erupted, thick and hot, filling his mouth all over again, Priya pressed a smiling kiss to his neck and held him there, beaming with pride and arousal, her petite body curled against his side while he swallowed what she had guided him to take.