Lip Service 7

I was down on all fours facing the glory hole.

No, I was not in some stinky men's restroom. I'm

way

too civilized for that. I was on my hands and knees in an empty refrigerator box.

Let me explain.

I had stayed home from my law office to take delivery of the new refrigerator - a big stainless steel thing with French doors. After the delivery guy installed it, he started to cart away the heavy-duty cardboard shipping box when a deviant purpose for the vacant chamber popped into my head.

"Wait," I said. "Just leave it. Our kids can use it as a playhouse."

I don't have kids. I was picturing using the box as

my

playhouse.

You need some background.

My husband, Derek, and I have high libidos - a gift and a curse, believe me. We both had plenty of lovers before we got married. A dozen years into our monogamy, we confessed to each other that the leash had started to chafe. We tried "open marriage," which straight away nearly ended our relationship. Turns out, we're both far too jealous to be able to handle it. We settled upon a "virtual" polyamory; that is, we share in detail our

fantasies

of sex with others. Even that sometimes makes us crazy, but at least it leads to hot "reassurance" sex. And learning my husband's go-to erotic fantasies taught me all the ways to get him the horniest - and vice versa.

I found out Derek was super turned-on by the idea of "glory hole" sex. He would fantasize sticking his hard cock through a hole in a wall while an unknown woman on the other side sucked and stroked him off.

"There's something about the anonymity of it," he'd said. "She can't see me, and I can't see her. It's the theme of sex with a stranger, taken to the ultimate. I don't know...it thrills me to even talk about it."

When Derek learned my go-to fantasy was having sex with large black men, he bought me a big black lifelike dildo to indulge my daydreams. Fact is, I already owned an even bigger black dildo that I kept hidden so as not to bruise his male ego.

After the delivery man set down the shipping box from the dolly and left, I laid the empty box down on its side on my kitchen floor. I crawled inside on all fours with a sharp knife, and cut a circular hole in the end where my mouth was positioned. The chunk of cardboard fell free and I backed out and then dragged the box into our bedroom. This evening, Derek was bound to get a big surprise and a raging boner the minute he walked into the bedroom and saw it.

I looked at my handiwork and thought of an improvement. I reentered the box and placed a cushion where my knees would rest. Inside the box, peering through the glory-hole, I was surprised at how turned on I felt. I'd never even heard of glory-hole sex before Derek told me about his fantasy, and the idea hadn't struck me as powerfully erotic. Yet here I was now, hidden in semi-darkness, wondering what it would be like to be on the receiving end of an anonymous hard cock poked through the hole. Giving head to a nameless, faceless stranger? Feeling his foreign cock spasm as he shoots his load into my mouth. Kinky. But I was really wet.

I emerged from the box and stared at it. I knew what would feed Derek's fantasies - and now it was heating up my own imagination - so I wrote in a fat black marker above the glory hole:

FREE BLOWJOBS! A PUBLIC SERVICE

Should I take a photo and text it to Derek at his office? Ha. He might be in the middle of a teleconference. It'll rattle him. Long-term relationships need a good rattling now and then.

I aimed my cell phone camera at the box lying at the foot of our bed. But the bedroom was overly familiar, and too...domestic. Family photos. Derek's debating club trophies. A framed print of a Georgia O'Keefe flower that looked like a vulva. A shoe rack hanging on the outside of the closet door. It was not like his fantasy of shoving his cock through a glory hole in some roadside bar and having a faceless slut eat his cum.

I thought of the roof of our condo building. It's got an artificial turf area with a couple tables under umbrellas. The fake grass and tables give it the look of a public space; but really, nobody ever uses it. The glory-hole box would look a lot sexier in that spot on the roof, as if it was situated in a tiny park, "a public service" for any horny man who wandered by.

In case I ran into someone in the hallway, I tossed a blanket over the dirty words on the box. I dragged the box onto the freight elevator.

Yep, it looked way sexier out in the open on the roof. The scene made my pussy wetter. I snapped a photo. I was about to text the pic to Derek, when I thought of adding a photo from the cocksucker's point-of-view -- inside the box, with the afternoon light shining through the hole.

I crawled inside and my vision had adjusted to the dark when I heard the metal door to the roof bang shut and male voices approaching. I froze.

Oh hell! Nobody ever comes up here!

"Compressor is shot," said a deep male voice. "Gonna need a whole new unit."

"Dog, that's gonna cost a shit ton," said a second man with a lighter voice. Both men spoke in a Black Southern drawl.

"Well. We...The fuck is that?" said the first man. "That wasn't here before." He read aloud. "Free blowjobs!"

"A public service!" the second man read.

"Hey, somebody in there?" A hand banged atop the refrigerator box.

I had squeezed myself into my smallest shape at the rear of the box away from the hole. A shadow blocked the light as the man tried to look inside.

"Can't see shit, but someone's hunkered in there," he told his coworker. "I see you, girl," he said through the hole. Thank god it was too dark for him to see me clearly.

"You like suckin' cock?" the man said and laughed. "Free public service? Well, my cock loves gettin' sucked! I ain't lyin'."

My heart was pounding. What the hell was I going to do? My first thought was to scramble out of the box, and my mind raced with what the hell to say. "Sorry, guys. Ha. It's a prank for my sister's birthday." It would only be the most embarrassing moment of my life.

I was still working up a convincing lie when a big cock came through the glory hole. I mean a BIG cock: long and fat and black. He stuffed his large balls through and his ball sack seemed the size of a softball.

My heart went into turbo-drive. I heard a rumble of male laughter on the outside. "Wake up, girl. This cock ain't gonna suck itself."

Oh my god. A potent mix of fear and desire set me trembling.

"Come on, now lil' momma," said the deep male voice. "I need your mouth on my dick."

"Yeah, me next," said his workmate. "I can't wait."

My mind was reeling from the surreal situation, but my body was willfully moving toward the cock and balls filling the glory-hole. Close up, I smelled the musk of his manhood. Not my husband's smell. Not my husband's cock. The size alone would tell me that, but there were other little hints - it was purplish black and uncircumcised. The strong male aroma got my heart thumping. And now I found myself wrapping my hand around the base of the veiny shaft and kissing the bulbous head.

Oh my god, he was big. I opened my mouth to a wide round O to draw it in. My swirling tongue brought a deep-voiced sigh and the cock swelled even bigger. My mouth was a warm, wet, soft hole for this random man to fuck and he began working it, thrusting left and right, bulging my cheeks. I felt whorish knowing he was using me only for his pleasure. I was his slut, unseen.

I kept up my sucking and stroking. I tasted a dollop of the sweetest pre-cum and a moan escaped my lips from around his cock. When he heard it, he needed to fuck me harder, rocking my head back, grunting with each thrust. I gagged and my eyes watered, but I was drunk with arousal, and I knew he was, too. I reached a hand up under his balls, grabbed them around the top and tugged them down again and again, in rhythm with his thrusting. That did it. His thighs began banging into the thick cardboard wall, shaking the whole box. "Uh. Uh. Uh. Gonna shoot my load!" He bellowed as the first jet of cum flooded my mouth. "Take it!" he boomed. With each powerful spasm his cock spurted another ribbon of cum onto my tongue. "Take it!" I couldn't believe how much cum he produced! "Take it!" I was gulping down the creamy stuff. My pussy was dripping lube and inside the enclosed space the scent of sex was a dense fog.

"Come on, dog. My turn to hit that," said the second man.

As soon as the first man pulled his still-hard cock out of the glory hole, a second cock, long and slender, poked inside. His sweat reeked of cigarettes. He came quickly and squirted a spoonful of jizz inside my mouth. He withdrew his cock from the glory hole.

"Shit, look at the time," said the deeper voice. "We gotta split. The boss is gonna chew us a new asshole."

Thank god. I was wondering how this was going to end. I couldn't exactly exit the box and introduce myself.

"Hey, you in the box," said the deep voice, and he slapped the top. "Public servant. You like suckin' cock? Tomorrow, we got a whole crew comin' to install a new AC unit. Eight guys."

"Eight cocks," said the other man, and gave a lewd laugh.

"Get back here tomorrow," said the deep voice. "You good at your job. I wanna fuck your mouth again."

The door banged shut when they left the roof. I easily fingered myself to a mind-melting orgasm, vividly recalling the smell and feel of his magnificent manhood and the pungent taste of his copious cum.

I did think about going back up on the roof, but not inside the box. Although it turned me on to imagine hiding myself behind a wall while giving head to a whole crew of anonymous workmen, I checked in with reality and decided to just add that scene to my repertoire of erotic fantasies.

No, I wanted to return to the roof to get a peek at the guy with the deep voice. What did he look like? Who was he?

In the end, I didn't go. I knew his mighty cock, his manly scent. I made him cum hard and I swallowed every drop. But we would never know each other's names or faces.

I took the refrigerator box down the elevator and out the building to the side alley. I broke it down and heaved it into a dumpster. Sorry, Derek. We can't use it for glory-hole sex because there are splats of cum on the cardboard that I won't be able to explain. But I do get it now. I really get how much it thrills you.

And from now on, if I happen to encounter a large black air-conditioning repairman with a deep voice -- who knows? He might be the mystery-man for whom I once performed a very private public service.