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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…

And then he wasn’t the only one cumming. Annette had an orgasm herself, her tight pussy spasming around her middle finger while the cock in her mouth spat out its goo. She swallowed eagerly, accepting the whole load, and continued to suck while the organ deflated slowly. She didn’t want to lose it while she was still in orgasm. She didn’t want to be alone again.

She needn’t have worried. Even as the man she’d just satisfied pulled out, Annette felt something pressing against her left hand–the one she was using to steady herself against the wall. Another male organ had been inserted through the hole on that side of the stall.

This time the cock that stared her in the face was a black one–a big black one that was already halfway hard. Annette didn’t know any black people, and was intimidated at the thought that she was kneeling in front of some huge black stranger right now. Still, he was hard and he was warm, and he wanted some of what she was giving out.

She grasped the organ without hesitation and began to stroke it. Her own orgasm was subsiding, but who was to say she couldn’t have another? She pivoted on her knees and brought this new plaything to her face, rubbing it against her cheeks and teasing it with her tongue.

She wanted more contact with this magnificent piece of a man–as much as she could get. She tugged one strap of her dress over her shoulder, yanked down her bra, and rubbed her bare right tit against the straining purple cock head. Her nipple was as erect as it was.

She did not want her mouth to remain empty. She much preferred it full. So she bent and engulfed what she could of this healthy black stud.

Only to see out of the corner of her eye that another penis–another cock–had replaced the first one in the center hole.

Annette grabbed for this smaller, white organ as well. She could only suck one man at a time, but she could hold it in her hand, get it hot and aroused.

She had trouble getting more than just the head of the black cock into her mouth. It was swelling to unbelievable proportions. She thought about all the times she had seen men and wondered what they had in their pants. She couldn’t figure how anyone could walk around with such an item as this and not have it show.

The problem of handling two penises at once–two men at once, she realized dizzily–was that she was no longer able to touch herself–not if she wanted to keep her balance. All this sucking and stroking was arousing a great need in her loins, and she could do nothing for it. She was sure she could make herself cum explosively, if only she could massage her pussy.

But the men were demanding. She forced herself down on the one and held the other tightly.

Hearing a rustling, she glanced around and saw that the hole directly behind her had been taken.

How many men are out there? She wondered.

She was still concentrating on eating the black rod to the left when the other cock, the one she was tugging on with her hand, shot off unexpectedly. She watched, fascinated, as it sprayed like a garden sprinkler, all over her arm. This was her first time seeing what male cum looked like, as it dribbled down her forearm.

At least this frees up one hand for a minute, she thought. Like a woman possessed, keeping her face locked onto her main customer, she pulled up her skirt and yanked down her panties. She rubbed her cum-coated arm into her wet crotch, and furiously fingered herself for a couple delicious minutes, bringing herself to the brink of what would have to be the greatest orgasm ever. But she couldn’t quite get over the edge, and she was forced to stop when she sensed the unserviced cocks around her getting restless.

The newest member of the get-me-off club, the one opposite the black man, was waiting for attention. She didn’t want him to lose patience and go away. She gave him a few strokes with her sticky hand.

Annette was in a drunken sexual frenzy.

Hoping the rock-hard ebony prick she had been nursing would wait for her, she released it for a moment and stood up. Working as quickly as she could, she stripped herself of her dress and underthings, leaving herself naked but for her shoes and jewelry. She pressed her body into the wall, grabbed the saliva coated rod she had been blowing moments before, and wedged it between her legs. She held it there, rubbing it against her clit again and again, hearing panting and pushing as she drove herself and the man she did not know close to cumming.

She wanted desperately to press the organ into her hole. She wanted to give it her virginity, make a woman out of herself right then and there. She arched her back and tried to swallow it with her cunt, but the angle was wrong, and she got just the head of it into her tunnel before it slipped back out. The man orgasmed during these ministrations, and his cum drenched her thighs. Panting, she let him go.

If she couldn’t have a cock deep inside her this way, she’d have to settle for the other. Turning, she prepared to select another juicy rod for her mouth.

And was stopped cold.

Sticking through the other side hole was a monster. Seven or eight inches long, and still flaccid, hanging against the wall.

She didn’t know who it belonged to, but she knew she had found the tool she needed.

It had to be hard, of course, if she was going to get it through her hymen and inside her where it belonged. She dropped down to make this happen, taking what she could of the warm snake into her mouth. It grew as she nursed it, until it stuck straight out, arching up like a huge meat hook.

Annette turned to face away. She bent deeply at the waist, raising up on her toes a little, and backing onto the now ten inch spigot.

In front of her another anonymous organ waited. She took this in her mouth as a way of stifling any screams that might come as a result of her deflowering.

The organ behind her started into her hole, stretching her, filling her. It encountered the flower of her virginity, and stopped. Annette savored the gentle pressure against that sensitive barrier. There was still several inches of cock between her cunt and the restroom wall.

She placed her hands against the wall in front of her, and she pushed.

“Oh Gawd, yesss!”

The exclamation wasn’t from her, but from the lucky fucker on the other side of the wall. Annette was breathing hard around the stiff dick in her mouth, but was otherwise quiet, only living the experience of pleasure and pain as something deep inside her tore apart, and she felt herself taken and filled.

Her eyes rolled upward with pleasure.

That’s when she saw the video camera.

There was a camera mounted at the top of the cubical, looking down.

Suddenly Annette realized–those men in the bar upstairs hadn’t been watching a porn tape. They had been watching the action going on down here.

And now they were watching her…


There weren’t so many foundry workers clustered around the television at the end of the bar anymore. Most of them had gone downstairs. One of the few remaining called over to the ladies’ table. “You girls ought to see this,” he said.

“Yeah, right,” Michelle said, knowing all about the set-up in the basement. She’d almost been talked into it once by a boyfriend, until she found out about the camera. “We really want to see some whore going down on you limp dicks.”

The man laughed. “No, really. This whore was sitting at your table a while ago.”

Michelle bolted upright. Where is Annette?

It couldn’t be Annette. Annette had gotten disgusted and gone home half an hour ago.

Hadn’t she?

But there was her coat.

“Oh my God.”

Michelle jumped up, pushed her way close to the television.

There was Annette, naked for all to see, speared like a pig on a spit, with a cock in her mouth and another behind her. Her skin, pale because she was too shy to lay out and tan, glistened with gobs and gobs of male cum. Her hair was matted and her breasts flopped this way and that…

“Oh my God…!” was all Michelle could say.


Annette couldn’t stop. She was mortified about the camera, and knew she would never live this down, but she couldn’t stop.

She was being fucked, for God’s sake. Fucked!

Nothing she’d ever felt, not even the time she snuck her sister’s vibrator and had it all the way up inside her, compared to it. It was the most satisfying, complete experience of her life, and…and…

“Oh, shit I’m going to cummm!” she squealed, pulling away from the cock in her mouth and speaking into it like a microphone. It spewed a load of thick cream just as she did, and she took it all over her face, delighting in the cum bath. The more she could get the better.

“AAAAaaaaaiiiiieee!!” she screamed. “Fuck, fuck, fuckkkmmeeeee!!”

And her glazed eyes held steady on the camera lens as her entire body spasmed and shook, and the monster-sized cock buried in her snatch from behind exploded like a fire-hose, prompting more spasming deep in her cunt, and she squeezed her own breasts and moaned and whined as the orgasm went on and on and on…

Annette didn’t stop fucking and sucking until she was completely used up and there wasn’t a cock left in the place that she hadn’t milked dry. Finally she collapsed on the floor and stayed there until Michelle came down to help her get cleaned up and take her home.


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