On Suburban Nees

On Suburban Knees

My adventure, if you can call it that, began at a Starbucks on an early May Saturday morning. I sat on a tall stool with my black coffee--nothing elaborate--at the counter that overlooked the front of the store after finishing an hour run along a nearby path. It was not far from my apartment and in the middle of the main street in an affluent New York City suburb.

I was

between relationships

as they say and was content with my one bedroom a five minute walk from the station and thanks to my running and use of my building's gym, I was in pretty good shape for a guy in his late twenties.

It was a fine spring morning, and I had a slight coating of sweat and relished the thought of getting home and taking a nice long shower before figuring out what I was going to do for the day.

As I say, it was into my weekend routine. As I scrolled my phone, a woman asked if the stool to my right was taken, and when I said it wasn't, she sat down with a muffin and whatever coffee concoction she'd gotten for herself. I didn't get much of a look at her and figured I should be off in a minute or two so I wouldn't gross her out with my odor.

Before I could leave, though, she surprised me by asking if she could have a brief word.

"I have a proposition for you," she said, and I turned to study her wondering, frankly, whether she was some sort of escort working the suburbs and, I must say, she could have pulled it off. She was pretty but not too pretty. Probably early thirties, brown hair, which was in a ponytail, and leggings below a loose t-shirt. She looked to have come straight from the yoga studio across the street.

She smiled. "Not

that

sort of proposition."

"The furthest thing from my mind," I said, and she told me I was an awful liar.

"No, I'm curious about whether you're, well, curious."

"About what?"

"I've seen you come in here the last few weeks and I looked at you and thought"--she lowered her voice--"that you might be worth talking to about a little project I have going in town."

"Project?"

She glanced out front. "Look. It's a little personal. Can we take this outside?"

As we left the café, a couple left a small table in the corner of its patio, and we moved to it. I was beginning to get chilled as my sweat was drying, but she said it wouldn't take long.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a card.

"I'll cut to the chase. Would you be interested in earning a hundred dollars for an hour's work, work of the sort you might like?"

"You've completely lost me."

She leaned in closer as I tightened my grip on my cup. "Have you ever sucked a cock?"

I pulled back more in confusion than revulsion.

"What kind of question is that?"

"I mean no disrespect. It's a simple question and I assure you it's relevant to my little proposition. Pardon the expression."

I leaned back in. "I mean, it's been a while, but I did have a phase when I lived in the City after I graduated."

"Did you...like it?"

"Sometimes I did. Sometimes I didn't. It's only been women for the past few years."

"Are you straight or are you bi?"

I hadn't thought of that in a while but my memories of being with guys and the quick hook-ups I, yes, enjoyed when I would venture down to the West Village came back to me. Frankly, I fantasized about some of them when I was alone and lonely before going to bed. So for honesty's sake, I told this complete stranger that I was bi.

"Okay. And feel free to cut me off at any time. I have an intimate party once a month in my house. It's not entirely mine, but my schmuck of a husband left me about a year ago and we haven't worked out the details. But for all practical purposes it's mine. And I have a select group of people over each month to basically do whatever they want to do."

"Wait. Are you inviting me to one of your parties?"

"Not exactly. I mean. I am, but not in how you probably think."

We were now leaning close to one another, and we each looked around now and then to confirm that no one was listening. She told me that a glory hole was something she set up and she wondered if I'd service anonymous cocks for an hour or so the next Saturday.

"It won't be just you. I've installed a wall with four holes. The

servants

are next to one another. Two men. Two women. There's a sign on the other side saying which so the men know if they have a preference, although they don't always do."

She explained that we'd each be on duty for twenty-five minutes and then would have a break and then finish with another twenty-five.

"It's a nice enough room with a shower and all you'd need to be as comfortable as you want. Mouthwash and towels and such and a nice, padded runner along the base of the wall. You can wear whatever you want. They can't see you from the other side. You go in through the backdoor so no one knows who's behind the wall."

I was quite stunned.

"Look. I've seen you for a couple of weeks. I like what I see and thought I'd approach you. Just say no and I'm gone."

She reached into her bag and took out a card. It had an email address on it and nothing more.

"If you're interested, create an email account. Include Bill in the address--"

"Bill?"

"It's a random name. I don't want to know anything more. If you're interested, simply send me an email saying 'Yes' and I'll reply with the address and the time. It'll be half-an-hour before show time, which will be about nine. My male guests generally like to get that taken care of before they get into more fun. Your shift is over, you can shower or just leave through the backdoor and that's it. The money will be waiting for you in an envelope."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

She stood and put her back over her shoulder and lifted the coffee with one hand and told me I could finish the muffin.

"I hope you send me an email but if you don't that's fine too."

She turned and I watched her walk down the street until she stepped into one of the boutiques in town and then I studied the simple card she'd given me and rotated it in my hand.

****

Her house was on the eastern side of the village. She or her husband must have done very well, probably making their money in finance. It was a center hall colonial and there were three BMWs and a Tesla parked on the street in front. I'd parked on the street around the corner and walked to the driveway, which went to the side of the house to a free-standing two-car garage, with walkway to the basement steps, which I followed.

Steps led down to a basement, and a white ribbon had been wrapped around the post of the cast iron gate around the steps. They were well-lit, and I was soon inside the small room at the bottom. It was only a small part of the basement, but there was enough room for four folded chairs that were opened and against the wall. A shower was off to one side, and a stack of plush towels was on a small table by its side. A toilet was discretely in a corner.

One woman was there when I arrived, and she sat on one of those chairs scrolling her phone. She looked up at me.

"First time?"

"Yes. You?"

"I've been here a few times. It's fun. I guess I have a kinky streak."

"I guess I do too, though it's been a while since I, well, you know."

She chuckled and said I should be fine after two or three.

"You should put on a smock"--she nodded to the four hanging on hooks along the wall--"cause it can get messy. It's best if you take it however the giver wants you to."

"I don't know if I can swallow or deep throat."

"You can spit it out." I saw there were bowls next to each of the four holes.

"And if you gag, you gag. These guys aren't assholes and they're happy enough just being able to come without a lot of drama."

"Thanks," I said. "I'm--"

She interrupted me. "No real names."

I'd almost fucked up. "Okay. I'm Bill."

"Shirley."

I sat in the chair beside her and she returned to her phone just as a second guy came in. She leaned to me and whispered that she'd seen him before. He was mid-forties and looked to be in pretty good shape.

While I waited for him to get settled, I studied the wall. As I said, it had four holes at the proper height. A nice long runner ran along the bottom of the wall, which looked like it would make things easy on the knees.

There was a digital clock on the wall, and the guy who came in, who introduced himself as "Tommy," said it was synced with the one on the other side and an alarm would go off when we got to twenty-five minutes, "Although you have to finish what you're doing when it goes off. It's like in football when you get the snap off before time expires. But you get the extra time on the other end."

The clock said 8:35 when a second woman rushed in.

"Sorry I'm late." She introduced herself as "Alice," and she knew the other two. We settled in to wait.

At about 8:50, our hostess appeared. And she set us up, boy/girl, boy/girl. And after making sure we were ready, she told us to enjoy ourselves and was gone.

At 9:00, we each took our positions, just as we heard people, men and women, coming down to the basement.

I was in position three, between the two ladies. I'd come in wearing your basic suburban street wear of jeans and a polo over trainers, but I decided to go shirtless. That way I figured I didn't have need to wear that parka. Both Shirley and Alice were down to their bras, and Tommy had taken his shirt off.

It wasn't long before each of the holes had a cock in it. It had been a while, but I kissed the tip first off and it suddenly came back to me. To either side I heard the squishing of blowjobs and my peripheral vision saw the bobbing front and back of Alice and Shirley going to town, each making it clear that they were not doing this for the money alone.

My confidence grew and I drew more and more of the short but thick dick into my mouth, allowing my tongue to have free rein over it and then being bold enough to dip down to suckle one and then another of the balls that had been presented to me.

I heard the wall bang above Alice's cock and a guy say with urgency "in your mouth, in your mouth." I was too busy working on my own cock to see what she did but I heard an "I'm cumming" and then quiet for twenty or thirty seconds before I made out Alice pulling away from the wall. Her subject thanked her, and she lifted the bowl beside her and spit his come into it.

She then took the water bottle she had and rinsed her mouth out before spitting that too into the bowl.

She didn't have long, so far as I could tell, before another cock was through her hole and she was on it, which happened to be when much the same was happening to my left with Shirley.

I hardly noticed any of this as I was entranced by the wonderful dick I was ramming in and out of my mouth until I was strangely satisfied by hearing my wall being banged upon and then, with my subject saying nothing, had him burst into my mouth. It was too much and I swallowed the first streams and discovered I liked it and so swallowed the rest. When he was spent, I licked the cock and especially the remnants of his cum at the tip until he withdrew it back through the hole with a "god that was great."

I had not expected to react as I did. I enjoyed it. It had been years, but it had all come back to me and I savored the idea that I had another man's, a stranger's, cum sitting in my belly and could not wait for the next one.

And so it went, progressing so well that I almost regretted having to take a break. But I did and in the end I'd gotten five guys off with just my mouth. I'd swallowed the cum of four strangers while a fifth's had splattered over my face. I was strangely pleased by knowing that there was cum in my stomach.

I didn't keep track, but I think we'd each gotten five or six cocks off. About five minutes after time was up, our hostess appeared again. The room was a bit of a mess and we were each emptying a second or third water bottle as we sat in the chairs.

"I must say," she told us. "That went very well. Thank you all." She looked at me. "I got several compliments about you. Do you want to be a regular?"

I said I did. After she'd gone, I decided to forego a shower. I said goodbye to my companions and headed to my car. As I reached it, I checked my email. There was one from my hostess.

"If you'd like, next time you can be on the other side of the wall if you'd like." I imagined Shirley kissing my tip and tonguing my shaft.

"I think I'd like that," I emailed back and I began to take care of the hard-on that that image had given me.