Date: Fri, 5 Jan 2018 23:43:30 -0700 From: Rocky Hawkins Subject: That's a Glory Hole, Kid! Title: That's a Glory Hole, Kid! Author's Note: This story is told as a fantasy, and I won't tell you that there is any truth to it. But, as narrator and protagonist, I am not really that creative. So, you can decide if I made it up or not... I love email and feedback, so let me know if you like this one! DISCLAIMER: The following content may contain detailed descriptions of sexual interactions between a minor and adult. If the laws in your place of residence or your religious beliefs make it illegal or wrong to read such, do not continue. If this type of content offends you, do not continue. Donate: Nifty operates free because there's people who donate to keep it running. Donate. It's worth the spunk. Contact me: Feedback and such to justwriting@soniq.org. ======================================================== I was told that I was gay when I was 12 years old. My older brother and I were wrestling, and he was doing some teenager high-school moves, and I wasn't ready. He got me into a locked position, holding my legs in his arms, and my head with his thighs. I was little then, and not very strong. I begged to be let go, but he wouldn't budge. I could smell the sweat of his body, and the heat from his crotch. "No way, Kyle! I ain't letting you go!" He shouted. I struggled, but I was stuck. "Come on, Mark! I'll do anything you want! Just, let me go..." He loosened up a little, "Sure, Kyle, Sure. I'll let you go. But you know what you gotta do!" I didn't mind what happened next. In fact, it's been pretty much happening every time we wrestled for the past 6 months. Mark was 16. His voice had changed, his freckles got lighter, and he was letting his ginger-red hair grow out again. Over the summer, he had grown to almost 6 feet, but he was rail thin - barely made the weight requirements. Today, he was practicing for the meet on Monday night, and he was wearing his wresting singlet. With no underwear. And he was hard as a rock. So, of course, I knew what was gonna happen. "Fine, but do we have to use the lotion? I get all sticky." I whined. "Of come on, you little homo! That's the best part!" He laughed, then let me loose. I got into position, and he hopped up to the desk to get the hand cream. Mark set the lotion to my side. I was laying on my stomach, on the floor of the bedroom we shared. He patted my butt, and I lifted up for him to pull down my basketball shorts. This part always made me hard. When I flatten back down, I could feel my own junk rub into the carpet. In an instant, 4" of hard steel between my legs. Not that anything happened. I was only 12. Mark slipped his arms out of the singlet, and slid it down. He didn't have any hair on his body, but his freckles started at his face, traced the lines of his chest, to his abs, down th the very base of his cock. I twisted my head to watch him strip. I really liked his body. I don't know why, I just did. "Stop lookin' at me, homo!" I turned away, looking at the poster of Cyndi Crawford on the wall. He was always talking to her at night. The bed would squeak, he'd whisper her name, and then he's gasp a couple times. It's the same sounds he is going to make behind me. His hand squished some lotion out of the bottle, and I felt him slide his fingers between my legs. Usually he would rub it on himself, but this time he said, "I want you wet, like a real girl..." His hands made fists as they moved to either side of me, using them to hold his body above me. I began to feel it; His 6 and half inches of uncut hardness against me. His hips pushed into mine, and I felt him slide between my legs. He backed up, then slid in again. His motions got faster as his cock sloshed and squished against my butt cheeks. His humping began to get harder, each time his pumped a little harder against me. I started to feel strange. My own dick, rubbing against the carpet with each thrust, began to make me feel funny. "Tighten your legs, fag, I need it tight like a pussy!" He demanded. I crossed my legs, making a seal between my thighs. He pushed harder, and began to fuck them, each time grazing the back side of my small balls. "Oh yeah, that's it.. tight like a fuckin' virgin..." He moaned. But I didn't really hear him. Bells, warnings, whistles, something was going on in my head. The sensations of his rubbing, and the friction of the carpet... I stopped breathing. MY heart was pounding in ears. He started faster, and harder, each pump he pushed in with a grunt, I could feel my balls tingle more. Then, it happened. My brain burst with an explosion of stars as my little cock, previousy unaware, now overloading me with a wave of pleasure. I moaned and lifted of the carpet, shift my brother's thrusts from my thighs to my buttcheeks. "Oh. My. God...." I cried. "I"m gonna nut, dude, what are you... Geezus, did you fucking cum? You ARE a faggot!" But he didn't stop. His thrust got shallow, and he grabbed my hips. With his strong arms, he pulled me back up to all fours, and I felt the tips of his cock pound between my thighs, against my now overwhelmed ball sack. "Arghhhh," he groaned, and I felt the all-too-familar wetness that he shot every time. I knew now that it was his own cum, and that he was 'making me pregnant'. We never talked about it after it happened. He just always made me go take. shower. This time, though, as he was wiping his cock with a dirty sock, he said, "Dude, first cum? From another guy's dick? Gay." I didn't respond. I mean, I knew what gay was. And I mean, he was the one using my backside... even if he did sometimes call me Cyndi, or Sarah, or whoever he was thinking of. It was still a boy he was using. In the shower, I had some time to think. I liked what we did. I liked the way he JUST made me cum too. Maybe I am gay? It wasn't until summer break that I found out for sure. Mark had a girlfriend, and I was no longer a faceable thing to use. He was done with wrestling, and Carrie was always over. He and Carrie would make out in the basement, and a few times I heard her say things like 'no, don't put it in,' so I figured she was his new toy. I decided to go to the park, since the rain had stopped, and Mark was hogging the TV in the basement, with Carrie. Mom was in the living room watching some soaps, and I had nothing to do. I took my skateboard and decided to see what I could trick on at the park. There were always some stairs, rails, and other things to flip and jump from. I found this really cool building there, out of the way, that had a set of steps, some rails, and even a ramp! It was great. As it turns, out, it was also pretty functional. I mean, it was a bathroom. 20 minutes into my tricks, I realized I had to pee. The doors the restrooms were on the other side of where I had been playing. There were a couple cars along the block, but the place looked empty. I went inside. There was a single door in, and along the room there were just a long row of sinks. About 5 of them, I think. Then, beyond that, another door, marked 'WC'. The door made a loud scrape as it opened, and for a second I wasn't sure if it was the right way to go, but as I looked through, I saw the familiar row of white urinals, and some cubicles along the other side. These cubicles were different that I was used to; they had full doors, that went all the way to the floor! There was a bit of a shuffling noise when I came in, but looking around, there seemed to be only one man in the room. He was at the far urinal, so I stepped up, respectfully staying one away from him. Coach in school always said that a man 'need's his space'. I unzipped, and pulled out my soft cock. I was cut, unlike Mark, and I always wondered why Mom made that choice. I never asked. I began to pee, and I noticed the man next to me was not making any noise; I mean, he wasn't peeing. I casually twisted my eyes, and my head, just a little, to see what was going on. The man was holding his penis in one hand, and had his arm holding back his jacket with the other. I could see, even partially, the man wasn't peeing. IN fact, I think.. yes, he was hard! His hand made a few slow motions, up and down, up... and down. I felt my face get hot, and I had to look away. But, I couldn't. I was so curious. And, I got busted. "Like what you see, kid?" The man whispered. I stared straight at the wall. My peeing had finished, but I couldn't move. The man, shifting his weight, moved from his urinal, and stepped closer to me. We were now side by side. "It's ok little man. You can look. My kid tries to peek once in a while too." I looked up, then down at my own junk. It was getting hard. I rolled my eyes, then I couldn't help it. My head turned quick and I saw him; for real. His junk was at least 7", longer than anyone I've seen so far, and had a thick tuft of hair sticking out of the fly. He was wearing jeans, and I didn't see underwear. "See, not so bad," he said. "Wanna touch it? I bet you do. Go on, then," I was slightly freaking out, but I couldn't bring myself to leave. It was at that moment, I knew I was gay. Without my permission, my hand betrayed me. It reached out, leaving my own dick. It slowly crept from the side of my body, over toward the left side of the man's tight jeans. He took it, gently, and guided it to his hardness. And it was, hard. Very. "Yeah, kid. It's cool. You wanna jerk it for me? Maybe taste it?" His hand was over mine, and I could feel the veins of the shaft. He began to slide my hand up and down on it, and his fingers gripped around me. I began to move on my own as I got the hang of it, and he released my hand. He groaned a little as my small hand wrapped nicely around the shaft, and while he didn't look uncut, there was a bit of loose skin to play with. "Fuck kid, you're doing great. Make me cum man," His hips told the story as I felt him turn towards me. He guided my other hand to him, and squeezed them together as he pumped his hips. When I had the right grasp for him, he moved his hands from mine, and put them on my shoulder. He pushed on me, downward. "Get down on it, kid," He grunted. I wasn't sure what he meant, but he kept pushing. My knees buckled a little, and in no time, I was on my knees, in front of him. His head arched back, and his hands pulled my head closer. I was still pumping on him, now faster and faster, his hips grinding with each thrust. "I'm cumin, dude. Open your mouth!" He shouted. I didn't open my mouth. Jet after jet of his cum oozed out, and he muffled a moan as his own legs got shaky. He grabbed my wrists to stop me as I was still jerking him, and it must've been too much. When he stopped cumming, he pulled my hands away from his dick. He turned to the urinal, and let a long stream of piss out. I was still on my knees when I heard the squeak of a door open. From one of the cubicles, another man, maybe in his 40s, appeared. He was in a suit, and was buttoning up his pants. He saw me on my knees, my face spattered with another man's cum, and smiled. "Man, out here? I thought that was what the glory hole was for! Best be careful you don't get caught like that, son," He walked out, and I looked at the other man in front of me. I stood up, wiping the cum on my sleeve. He flushed the urinal, packed himself back into his jeans, and smiled. "He's right. That was risky. Next time, glory." I was puzzled, it must have shown. He took hold of my shoulder, and ushered me toward the cubicles. "See this one? See that hold next to the toilet paper? Yeah, ok," he stammered. "That's a glory hole. Uh, so a guy will look at ya through the hole. If he likes what he sees, he'll put his dick through the hole, and you suck it. When he's done, he pulls it out and leaves." I nodded. I didn't know what to say. This was all so interesting. "Now, if he wants YOU, then he'll put a finger in the hole, and flicking, like he's calling you to dinner? That means he wants to suck you off. Trust me. Feels great." The man left shortly there after, leaving me in the room all alone. I looked at the hole. Then I looked at the other stall. The hole was big enough, and it was at waist height. I think he was telling the truth! I left the bathroom and grabbed my board. I walked home with a lot on my mind. My own dick had been straining against my skin, pointed straight up in my Hanes briefs. Thankfully, when I got home, Mom was napping and Mark was not around. I locked the bedroom door, stripped down, and grabbed some of the lotion. My hands, sticky now, felt for my own cock, and I closed my eyes. I pictured the man today. He was a casual guy, jeans and a t-shirt. About 30, he had a great smile, and strong, rough hands. I felt my cock twitch when I thought about how he pushed me to the ground. I started to jerk harder as I thought about how he wanted me to open his mouth. Was cum good? Did it taste..? My eyes shot open as my hands hit the spot. I felt the world collide as my teen cock shot it's first string of cum. I bucked like a horse as the feeling of my hand, sticky on my junk, gripped the bone, a new goo adding to my hand. It wasn't a large amount, but it was now the second time I had cum. And all because of the man today. I was a homo. And I had to go back. ======================================================== Like it? Email me. justwriting@soniq.org