My Married Neighbor's Urgent Gloryhole Surrender

My Married Neighbor's Urgent Gloryhole Surrender

Derek’s steel-toed boots echoed down the concrete stairs into the basement of the apartment complex. Another Thursday night, another fight with his wife that ended with her locking the bedroom door and him with a throbbing hard-on and nowhere to put it. Six days since he’d last gotten laid. Six fucking days of blue-balled frustration while she complained about headaches and stress from her new job. He was 28, built like the construction sites he worked on—broad shoulders, thick arms, a solid chest that still turned heads—and his wife treated his cock like an afterthought.

He needed to blow off steam. Badly.

The basement bathroom was always empty this late. Most tenants used the laundry room on the other side. Derek had noticed the hole in the partition wall between the two stalls weeks ago. At first he told himself it was just some weird plumbing thing. Then one night he saw the faint light from the other side and the crude writing above it: Feed me.

Tonight the frustration won.

He stepped into the left stall, heart hammering, and locked the door. The hole was perfectly sized—smooth edges, about waist high. His cock was already straining against his work jeans. He rubbed the thick bulge once, twice, then muttered a curse under his breath and unzipped.

The moment his heavy cock sprang free, Derek felt a rush of shame and raw need. Eight thick inches, veined, uncut, the head already slick with pre-cum. Married cock. Straight cock. He gripped the base, breathed deep, and pushed his hips forward.

The fat head slipped through the gloryhole into the other stall.

For a second nothing happened. Then he felt hot breath ghost across his exposed cockhead. A low, masculine chuckle followed.

“Fuck…” Derek whispered, forehead pressed to the cold tile wall.

A wet tongue dragged slowly up the underside of his shaft, tracing every vein from balls to slit. The tongue was broad, confident. It circled his leaking head, lapped at the pre-cum like it was savoring a fine whiskey, then slid back down. Derek’s thighs trembled.

On the other side of the wall, Marcus grinned like a wolf.

He’d known who it was the second those heavy, work-roughened balls pushed through. Marcus was 32, owner of the gym two blocks away, openly gay, and had spent the last four months jerking off to the sight of Derek hauling construction materials in and out of the building in his tight Carhartt pants. The married stud had no idea how many times Marcus had watched him from the window, imagining exactly this moment.

Marcus dragged his tongue over the fat crown again, slow and obscene, letting Derek feel every ridge and taste bud. He exhaled hot breath across the wet skin until the straight man’s cock twitched violently.

“Jesus Christ,” Derek groaned, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. “Just suck it already.”

Marcus smiled against the thick shaft. “You sure, neighbor?” he murmured, voice low enough to carry through the hole but muffled enough to stay anonymous. “Once I start, I’m not stopping until I’ve drained every drop from those married balls.”

Derek’s hips jerked involuntarily. The dirty words hit him like a slap. He should have pulled back. Instead he growled, “Shut up and suck my dick.”

Marcus opened wide and swallowed him.

The heat was immediate, overwhelming. Tight throat muscles rippled around his cockhead as Marcus took him halfway in one smooth glide. Derek’s mouth fell open in a silent moan. No one had ever taken him that deep. His wife gagged at four inches. This man was swallowing six like it was nothing.

“Fuuuuck,” Derek hissed, slamming his hips forward until his pubic bone slapped the wall. The wet, filthy sounds of throat-fucking filled the small space—glucking, slurping, the obscene pop of lips pulling off only to dive back down harder.

Marcus worked him like a pro, alternating between long, sloppy strokes and tight, suctioned bobs that made Derek’s toes curl in his boots. Every time the married man got close, Marcus would pull off, blow cool air across the glistening cock, and start licking again until Derek was snarling and pounding the wall with his fist.

“Goddamn it, stop teasing,” Derek barked, voice cracking. “Suck it like you mean it. I need to cum.”

Marcus pulled off with a wet pop. His hand wrapped around the slick shaft, stroking lazily. “Been watching you for months, Derek,” he confessed, voice rough with lust. “That tight ass in your work jeans every morning. Those big construction-worker hands. I’ve jerked off thinking about draining your straight married balls dry. Fantasized about it every single night.”

Derek froze. The use of his name should have sent him running. Instead his cock surged harder in Marcus’s grip, spitting a thick rope of pre-cum that the other man immediately licked up.

“You… you’re that guy from the gym?” Derek panted.

“Yeah. And right now I’ve got your married cock down my throat. So stop pretending you don’t want this.”

Derek’s answer was a broken groan as Marcus swallowed him to the root again, nose pressed to the wall. The confession shattered the last of his resistance. He started fucking the hole in earnest—hard, desperate thrusts that made the partition rattle. His heavy balls slapped the painted wood with every snap of his hips.

Marcus took it all, throat relaxing, letting the straight stud use his face. Saliva ran down Derek’s balls and dripped onto the dirty floor. The married man was growling nonsense now—“fuck yeah,” “take it,” “gonna cum”—his voice raw and broken.

But Marcus had other plans.

He pulled off completely, ignoring Derek’s frustrated snarl. “Get in here,” he ordered. “Now. Stall’s unlocked.”

Derek hesitated for three heartbeats. Then he yanked his jeans the rest of the way down, kicked them off along with his boots, and stepped out of his stall on shaky legs. He pushed open the adjacent door.

Marcus was waiting.

The gym owner was naked, muscular body gleaming under the harsh fluorescent light. Broad chest, ridged abs, thick thighs, and a massive cock—nine inches and brutally hard—curving up against his stomach. His dark eyes burned with months of pent-up hunger.

“Turn around,” Marcus said, voice low and commanding. “Bend over the toilet.”

Derek’s face burned with shame, but his cock throbbed harder than it ever had in his life. He turned, braced his hands on the tank, and bent at the waist, presenting his thick, hairy ass to the man who had just sucked him senseless.

Marcus didn’t waste time. He spat into his palm, rubbed the saliva over his bare cock, and pressed the fat head against Derek’s virgin hole.

“You want this?” he asked, giving the married man one last out.

Derek’s voice was hoarse. “Just fucking do it.”

Marcus pushed.

The first inch popped past the tight ring, making Derek grunt like he’d been punched. The stretch was intense, burning. Marcus kept going, slow but relentless, feeding inch after thick inch into the construction worker’s ass until his heavy balls rested against Derek’s.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Derek gasped, forehead pressed to his forearms. “It’s so big…”

“Relax,” Marcus growled, one hand stroking soothing circles over Derek’s lower back while the other reached around to grip his leaking cock. “You’re gonna take every inch like a good married slut.”

He started thrusting.

Deep, powerful strokes that rocked Derek forward over the toilet. The wet slap of muscle against muscle filled the bathroom. Marcus’s hips snapped forward again and again, driving his raw cock into the tightest hole he’d ever felt. Derek’s groans turned into desperate, broken moans that echoed off the tiles.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—” Derek chanted with every thrust.

Marcus leaned over him, chest pressed to Derek’s back, and whispered hot against his ear, “This is what you needed, isn’t it? Not your wife’s boring pussy. A real man wrecking your straight ass.”

He angled his hips and nailed Derek’s prostate.

The married man’s legs nearly gave out. A guttural cry tore from his throat as pleasure exploded through him. Pre-cum poured from his cock in a steady stream, coating Marcus’s stroking fist.

Marcus fucked him harder, faster, the wet sounds obscene. Then he pulled out abruptly.

“On your back,” he ordered. “Floor. Now.”

Derek didn’t argue. He dropped to the cold tile, legs spread wide like a whore. Marcus was on him instantly, shoving those thick thighs back until Derek’s knees nearly touched his chest. He lined up and slammed back inside in one brutal thrust.

Missionary. Raw. Deep.

Marcus fucked him like he was trying to break him. Long, punishing strokes that made Derek’s eyes roll back. One of Marcus’s big hands wrapped around Derek’s throat—not choking, just holding, owning. The other jerked the married man’s cock in perfect time with his thrusts.

“Look at you,” Marcus panted, sweat dripping from his brow onto Derek’s heaving chest. “Married construction stud taking cock like you were born for it. Gonna breed this hole. Fill you up with my cum while you shoot all over that wedding ring.”

Derek’s eyes widened. The words, the pressure on his throat, the relentless pounding on his prostate—it was too much. His balls drew up tight.

“I’m gonna—fuck—I’m cumming—”

His cock erupted. Thick ropes of white cum blasted across his own stomach, splattering the gold wedding band on his left hand, painting his abs, even hitting his own chin. His hole clenched violently around Marcus’s pistoning cock.

Marcus growled like an animal. His hips stuttered, buried to the hilt, and he came hands-free. Pulse after pulse of hot, thick seed flooded deep into Derek’s wrecked ass. The sensation of being bred pushed Derek into a second, smaller orgasm, milking every drop from the bigger man’s cock.

They stayed locked together, panting, sweating, trembling through the peak.

When the last spasm faded, Marcus slowly pulled out. A gush of cum followed, leaking from Derek’s ruined hole and running down the crack of his ass onto the dirty floor.

Marcus stood, towering over him, cock still half-hard and glistening. He gripped Derek by the hair and pulled him up to his knees.

“Clean it.”

Derek, dazed and ruined, opened his mouth without hesitation. He took the spent cock between his lips, sucking and licking every trace of cum and ass off the thick shaft. The taste was filthy, intoxicating. He moaned around it, eyes half-lidded.

When Marcus was satisfied, he pulled out and looked down at the wrecked married man.

Derek swallowed, licked his swollen lips, and rasped, “I’ll… I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

Marcus smirked, satisfaction burning in his eyes. “Good boy.”

Derek pulled his jeans back on with shaky hands. Cum was already leaking down the inside of his thigh, soaking into the denim. He didn’t bother wiping it away. He slipped out of the bathroom and headed upstairs to the apartment where his wife was probably already asleep.

His ass throbbed with every step. Another man’s load sloshed inside him, warm and filthy, marking him from the inside out.

And tomorrow night he’d be back for more.