Annette sat alone at one end of the wobbly barroom table, wondering how she had let herself get talked into coming here. She didn't like noisy drunks, and she didn't like loud music. She didn't like alcohol, and she didn't like being flirted with by drooling morons. She didn't like her sister's friends, and, though she tried not to admit it, she didn't like her sister much either. She thought the feelings were mutual.
Her mistake tonight had been in agreeing to give Michelle a ride home after work. She should have known her sister would never settle for going straight home--she always stopped somewhere to get plowed first. Sure enough, the minute she hopped into the car, Michelle had started in on her: "The girls are heading over to Pokey's," she said. "It's two for one night. What do you think? Just a quick one?"
"I'd rather not," Annette had said. "I have to be to work early."
Michelle had rolled her eyes. "You always have to be to work early. You ought to let yourself have some fun for a change. Besides, we haven't talked in ages."
So Annette had let herself be played, thinking she owed it to her sister to make the effort, and now she was stuck. She wasn't having any fun, and she certainly wasn't talking to Michelle. In fact, Michelle was ignoring her, holding court with her friends while Annette sat alone with a drink she hadn't asked for. Whatever it was they had put in her glass tasted awful, but she was drinking it because it gave her something to do.
Though they were sisters, Michelle and herself had little in common. Michelle was wild; a party girl who played men against each other and seldom slept at home on the weekend. Annette, on the other hand, lived by the rules. The only time she was away from home on the weekends was when she agreed to work extra hours at the Wal-Mart. She didn't drink (although she was tonight), and she had never dated.
Not to say that she didn't want to date, or that she never thought about sex. She really wanted to meet the man who would sweep her off her feet and make her his bride. She often fantasized about her wedding night, and what it would be like to have a man touch her in that way. She thought she would be a very sexual person, given the chance.
It wasn't her looks that kept her lonely. Annette was a classic blonde beauty, with naturally wavy hair and a long supple form. She had developed young, and was aware that men sometimes stared at her. But she wanted to be appreciated for her mind, not her body, so she tended to dress in ways that minimized her figure. Today she was wearing a modest skirt/sweater combo in red and black that was too warm for the thick smoky atmosphere of the bar.
One of the girls came back with more alcohol. Annette had already accepted a second drink on the rationale that it was two for one night--now here was a third.
What the hell,
she thought, seeing that Michelle was starting in on another pitcher of beer.
I'm not going anywhere for a while anyway.
Annette's eyes wandered as she sipped at the tall drink. At the end of the bar a raucous bunch of men--rednecks from the local foundry--were gathered around a small television set. Apparently they had put a porn tape in the VCR. The filthy, muscular men were watching some half naked woman crawl around on a dirty floor doing disgusting things. Annette turned away.
What a delightful place her sister chose to hang out at.
The sounds of the conversation Michelle was engaged in drifted to her ears as the girls talked over the country music. "It's called a gloryhole," one of them was saying. "They cut out a small hole in the side of a bathroom stall or something, and you're supposed to suck his cock off through it."
They all laughed. Annette took a swallow of her drink and sighed, finding their talk distasteful, but at the same time envying their casual regard for sex. She had never seen a man's organ, but thought that when she did it would be in her marriage bed. The moment would be intimate and solemn--not part of some cheap thrill.
If it ever happens at all
, she thought. She sometimes wondered if she would ever connect with a man.
Annette was feeling a numb tingling in her legs. She thought she had been sitting too long. She finished off her latest drink and stood carefully, wanting to find the ladies room. She was puzzled at the way the room swam when she moved, and wondered if it was the alcohol.
A sign said the restrooms were in the basement.
Not a good indication as to the cleanliness
, Annette thought. She had to steady herself as she walked down the stairs.
Actually the facilities were fine once she found them, but there was something odd about the ladies room.
Originally there had been three toilet stalls, but now there were only two. The door was off the center stall, and the toilet was missing. The drain in the floor had been capped. At the back of that stall, looking oddly out of place, another door had been cut and roughly installed.
Annette sat on a stool in one of the intact stalls and peed, curious about the anomaly. If she understood the layout of the building, the other side of that wall would be the men's room. What was the purpose...?
She straightened up her dress and came out of the stall. She glanced at the odd door again after washing her hands. She stepped close to it and listened, hearing nothing. Feeling suddenly adventurous, maybe from the strong drink, she stepped forward and quietly pushed the door open far enough to see inside.
It was like stepping through a looking glass. She was standing at the back of another converted toilet stall. This time the toilet was still in place, and she was standing behind it. The front and side walls were made of plywood which stretched from the floor to the ceiling, so she could not see beyond, into the rest of the men's room.
It was an odd set-up. There were three circular holes cut into the thin plywood walls, each about four inches in diameter, roughly three feet off the ground. One hole in the center of each side wall, and one directly in front.
She decided to look through one of the holes.
As Annette stepped forward into the stall, the door behind her swung shut. Distantly, she heard a buzzer go off, and was puzzled at that.
Suddenly Annette heard activity outside her stall. The outer door opened with a squeak, and someone entered the room. She heard heavy footfalls.
A shadow covered the hole in the front wall. Mortified that she might be heard, Annette stood perfectly still.
She heard the sound of a zipper, and held her breath as a flaccid, snake-like object slithered in through the hole, the drooped head of it flopping against the painted wall.
A penis. A large man's veined, purplish penis. She'd never seen one before, but that's what it was.
Annette swallowed as she remembered the words she'd heard spoken upstairs.
"...they cut a hole in the wall, and you're supposed to..."
Oh, Lord.
Maybe he'd just give up and go away if she stood still long enough. Whomever might be behind that wall, he couldn't reach her, couldn't see her.
In fact, she wasn't really in the presence of a man at all.
It was just her and the penis.
It must have been the alcohol, but she almost giggled.
The body pressed against the wood shifted. The fleshy tube swayed a little, like a pendulum. Annette wondered if it was warm...
Michelle would probably do it,
she thought.
Stepping closer, Annette sat gingerly on the end of the stool. Close up, the male organ looked huge. Gingerly, she picked it up and dropped it into the palm of her right hand.
Even that little contact stirred the male on the other side of the wall. She heard his intake of breath. The penis twitched and began to come alive. It started to fill out, and even lengthen. It was almost six inches long to begin with; how large was it going to get?
Her hand wrapped itself around the growing organ. It felt right to grip it, as if the act answered some need in her. She pulled on it gently, in an experimental sort of way.
Of course she wasn't going to do the rest of it...was she?
Annette's head was swimming. The heat in her blood and the alcohol were directing her actions more than common sense was. She resented the little voice in her mind that told her she was heading into trouble. It never seemed to shut up.
Leaning forward, Annette brought the organ right up to her face. She smelled the male musk and viewed the taut, rubbery texture of the head up close. It had a tiny slit at the end of it.
Annette touched the area around the little hole with her tongue.
There was a moan from behind the wall.
With just that brief contact, Annette realized, she had made a man feel good--had made him want her. The cock in her hand was at full mast now, so rigid she was able to let go of it, and it continued to stare straight at her.
She licked at it again, and liked it. She was beginning to realize why oral sex was so popular. It made her feel powerful to be able to bring a man to this state. The well-hung stranger was pressing himself into the wall, desperate for more of what she was doling out.
Annette decided she was not going to disappoint. She slid all the way forward off the stool and onto her knees. She placed her hands against the wall on either side of the gloryhole and eagerly impaled her own head on the fleshy stake that awaited her pleasure. She forced her face down onto it until the width of it stretched her lips wide and it popped into the wet cavern of her mouth.
The taste was fine. It made her mouth water. She pulled back a little and slid forward again, taking more of it this time. She bobbed her head up and down until she'd coated the organ with sufficient saliva to let it move smoothly in and out, all the way to the back of her throat. She bathed the rigid cock with her mouth, sucking at it gently as she pulled back, then plunging forward again. It was like fucking, but with her mouth. She was letting him fuck her mouth. She moved faster and faster, taking one hand free from the wall to reach under her skirt, because this act was stimulating her. She massaged her own aching sex organs through her underpants until she was wet enough to pull the crotch aside and stick her fingers in.
Annette was thoroughly aroused. She was in heat to the point that she was actually considering pulling off her panties. But the frantic thrusts against the wall of her male counterpart were demanding she focus, just to keep her mouth seated around his bucking cock.
She liked the wildness. She pursed her lips harder to give him more friction, and she rode him, all the while frantically stroking her own swollen, sticky cunt.
There is one reward for a good blow-job, and Annette earned hers now. She heard a moan, and at first she didn't know what was happening as a gush of warmth ran down her throat, causing her to quickly swallow. Was it saliva? But a second stream escaped into her mouth, and the salty taste of it let her know...
Cumming! He's cumming! Oh my God, I did it! I sucked a guy off through a gloryhole...
