Gloryhole Swallows – Jan. 28, 2022 Pic(s)
The muffled sounds of grunts and gasps echoed from the dimly lit alleyway. A single glory hole, worn smooth by countless encounters, peeked from the brick wall. Tonight, it was Michael’s turn. He pressed his face against the slick, yielding surface, the anticipation a tight knot in his stomach. A warm, wet tongue lapped at his lips, a prelude to the storm about to break. He moaned, the sound swallowed by the darkness. The rhythmic sucking was intense, a powerful vacuum pulling him deeper into a vortex of pleasure. His breath hitched, his body arching against the rough brick. He tasted sweat and something else, something musky and exciting. The pressure intensified, the rhythm quickening. He was close, so close. A final, shuddering gasp escaped his lips as he climaxed, the feeling a wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy washing over him. He collapsed against the wall, spent but satisfied, the lingering taste of his anonymous lover a memory to savor.
