Cindy’s confession week 3

Glory Days

I came back home from summer camp with my tail on fire. I had discovered The Orgasm and that was the most important thing I could possibly imagine right then. A girl has to have her priorities, after all.

My path of discovery had admittedly been a little twisted by Linda Sue, my first love, who had taught me to touch myself under her strict supervision, while sucking on a dildo, and who had finally let me cum only when her boyfriend’s cock was erupting in my virgin mouth. The last few nights at summer camp I had explosive orgasms every night, with Linda Sue’s boyfriend’s dick cumming in my mouth every time. 

I was a little mixed up about all that. Okay, more than a little. 
I had licked Linda Sue, and loved her, in a puppy-dog fashion, so was I a lesbian? I definitely didn’t have emotional attachments to any guys… but I did have a thing for dicks. I really, really liked them. Especially when they came in my mouth during my explosive orgasms. I even kind of maybe had a taste for guy cum. So basically I had no idea what was going on, even in my own head.

At night I was up late rubbing my love button with no real success. I was getting hot and bothered, but ultimately frustrated and a little sore. I kept rubbing the magic 8-ball, and it kept saying “Answer hazy, ask again.” Nothing to suck, no orgasm. So not fair.
I was totally no-way going to try to get myself a boyfriend to suck on; I’d never had a boyfriend before, and the only guys I knew were dorks—you know, typical teenage guys; into video games and gross Internet porn with giant titty women being fucked up the butt. No thanks, but No, thanks just the same. Anyway, I didn’t want a boyfriend—I was too mixed up. All I wanted was a cock to suck on while I masturbated. 
So I opted for Plan B: get a dildo. True, I’d never had a for-real orgasm with just a dildo in my mouth, thanks to Linda Sue, but I had come awfully close a few times—also thanks to Linda Sue. It seemed worth a try. So. Off to my girl-friendly neighborhood dildo emporium, right? 
As if.
There was this run-down adult book store I’d been past, in a pretty seedy part of town, that advertised sex toys in their window (and $0.25 movies, whatever those were). It was a long walk from where I lived, but do-able. So I did it. It was a real old-school type place, the kind that there used to be a lot of, I guess, before they invented the Internet and fire and stuff. I figured I’d slip in, buy a little dildo, put it in my backpack, come home, go up to my room, put it in my mouth, and have a little suck-rub-cum party. Easy peasy, like the old folks say.
Not. I was so unprepared. It was like an avalanche of porn in there, stacked to the ceiling and totally in your face. I did see some pictures of women smiling with cum on their faces and dribbling out of their mouths, which was comforting, in a weird sort of way, but there was so much other REALLY weird shit. I was kind of freaked out. 
I looked around for a little pink dildo. There were way too many really strange dildos that all grabbed at my attention. There were monster purple ones with spiky things sticking out, super monster black ones that wouldn’t fit in my daypack, long bendy ones like two-headed snakes from some ancient dick-based mythology…
The guy behind the counter noticed me. “Backpack,” he said.
“Oh, right. Sorry, man.” I handed over my daypack. He squinted at me.
“You eighteen, girlie?”
I pulled out my Kefauver High student ID (Go, Wildcats.. yeah, whatever…), showing my 18th birthday six weeks ago. He spent half a minute doing the arithmetic, then nodded. “Okay.” 
He looked at me oddly. Just then I noticed that I was like, the only girl in the place. A bunch of older guys were trying to check me out without staring. Others were just plain staring. I was getting a little uncomfortable. But I came here to get something, damn it.
I cleared my throat. “Can I look at your dildos?”
The guy gestured around. There must have been fifty, stacked high and low, mostly huge and weird, with strange alien attachments. “Any particular kind?” he asked, not unkindly.
I took a deep breath and just spilled. After all, the guy was a professional, right? Like a bartender, sort of. “Yeah, well I want something to suck on while I masturbate,” I blurted out. “I’m not sure it will even work. I’m used to having a cock cum in my mouth to help me get off, so… what would be the most like that? I don’t have a lot of money,” I finished.
It had been quiet in a sort of furtive way in there the whole time, but suddenly it was like everyone was holding their breath. You could hear a pin drop, except for the recorded moaning and groaning coming from the video area in the back.
“What?” I said.
He looked thoughtful, which didn’t seem to be an expression his face was really used to. “You get off when a guy cums in your mouth?” he asked finally, like he was trying to set the record straight.
“Yeah, basically.”
“Okay… I think we have something that will help. Yeah. Definitely. Uh, it’s gonna take me a minute,” he gestured at the stack of clutter overflowing the display case. “Tell you what. Take some tokens,” he swept like ten dollars worth of video tokens into my hands from where they were stacked by the register. “Go sit. Watch a movie. On the house. Take booth number twelve. It says closed, but don’t worry about that. I’ll… I’ll come knock when I have something for you. Could be a while. Relax. Take a load… off.”
“Um. Yeah, okay. Sure. Um. Thanks. Thanks a lot.”
“Sure, chicka. My pleasure.”
I walked down a dark hallway in back, looking for booth twelve. There was a lot of panting and squealing coming from speakers inside little booths with doors. Some were closed, but others were open. I could see they were all set up the same: a short, chrome and not-leather stool, TV screen with a coin slot, wastebasket, and a little shelf with a box of kleenex.
The kleenex seemed like a classy touch for such a cheesy dump, but hey. What did I know?
The place smelled like sex. It smelled like cum. Guy cum. I got a tingle in my crotch. It smelled really, really good. In a really bad, dirty way. I was getting turned on.
I found booth number twelve, one down from the end. Sure enough, it said “Closed” on the door in chalk. It also said “glory hole” in day-glo orange marker. Yeah, whatever. I walked in and closed the door. It had a lock. Real privacy. I realized then that this was a place guys came to jack off watching porn. Duh. I should have figured. Hence the smell. Damn. All those dicks, shooting all that cum nearby, behind locked doors. 
So near, and yet so what?
Oh, well. I had some time to kill while I waited for my dildo. Maybe I could find a video of a girl who looked something like me, sucking cock, and imagine it WAS me, and, you know, give the old love button a twirl with an imaginary cock in my mouth. It was worth a shot. Might be better than sucking a silly dildo, come to think. I locked the door.
It took a few tokens to figure out the video menu. Those things really didn’t last long! But finally I found something promising called an oral cream pie cumpilation, which turned out to be a movie of nothing but girls sucking cock and getting their mouths cum in. It grossed me out, but it did turn me on, a little, so I dumped all the tokens in, unzipped, and decided to try something new.
It was working, a little, but not quite enough. I was getting turned on, all right, but I couldn’t get where I wanted to go. I really missed having something in my mouth. Looking at it and trying to imagine it was real seemed like a lot of work. I guess that stuff is easier for guys. They’re more visual—they see it, they believe it. Me, I need to taste it.
I heard something scratching on the wall between my booth and the one next door. It was pretty dark, but I could make out a hole the size of a doorknob in the wall, partly blocked by a sliding panel. I felt kind of guilty sliding the panel open. I probably shouldn’t be peeping on some guy jacking off, but I was curious. Maybe if I saw a real cock getting close, smelled it…
Dreams really do come true. As soon as I slid the panel aside, before I could even get my eye to the oversized peep-hole, a large, semi-erect penis pushed through the hole, practically in my face. I stared, my mouth watering, my pussy tingling. It waggled, like it wanted to play. A cock! Unsupervised! With no dorky guy attached! (Well, none visible anyway.) And it looked friendly. Inviting even.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I ventured.
I pulled the stool over to the… the Glory Hole! Well, duh… skooched down until it was at mouth level, and pulled my jeans and panties down far enough to reach my love button without too much contortion. The sight and smell of an aroused cock right in front of my face was intoxicating.
Show time. I took the proffered dong in one hand and put the other hand in my pants. The cock stirred and started to stiffen as I handled it. It felt really good, warm and firm. I slipped a digit into my slit and fingered the magic eight ball, asking the same old question—but this time I felt the response changing from ‘Answer Hazy, Ask Again’ to ‘Yes’. It felt so good.
The cock was getting hot and hard as I stroked it. A nice buzz started in my clit. Oh, yeah. I eased my mouth over the head and wrapped my lips around the shaft. Mmm. A very nice buzz. I started to suck on it.
Bingo. My clit was humming with that Old Familiar Feeling. I was back on the path that I knew led home. I began to slide my mouth up and down, moving that lovely dick in and out of my face. The hole and wall arrangement was nice. I had total control. I pulled back until just the head was in my mouth, filling it nicely, and began to contentedly lick and suck while I stirred my love button, knowing where this would lead.
The dick in my mouth unexpectedly began to leak a familiar greasy fluid. Wait! Not yet!
Too late. It began to jerk and pulse, shooting jets of hot cum into my mouth. I sucked and swallowed, using my lips and tongue to keep that cock cumming as long as possible, while I feverishly rubbed my sweet spot for release. But it was over too soon. That delicious prick I had had such high hopes for softened, slipped from my mouth, and disappeared back into the wall. What a gyp!
I was kicking myself for taking my time, enjoying the ride, while this once-in-a-lifetime gift of no-strings-attached, ready-to-suck cock just came and went, without me finishing, when I heard a distinct scratching sound on the opposite wall. I turned to look, suddenly hopeful. 
Hallelujah! Another glory hole! I slid the panel aside with two shaking hands, one hand shaking and skanky with my own pussy drool.
The cock that came out of the wall this time was fully erect, longer and darker than I’d seen before, kind of a pale olive color, with a noticeable curve to the left. It was very clean, and very handsome. My mouth literally watered as I approached the gently bobbing head, opened wide, and let my lips engulf it. It was hot, and hard, in the way that only cocks are—soft and tender on the surface, but firm, practically rigid, inside—and almost sweet. It was way longer than my mouth was deep, so I only took it partway in. Then I let the tip slide out from my mouth and sucked the side of the shaft, sliding down from the head as far toward the base as far as I could reach, then back up. It was responsive. It liked what I was doing to it, I could tell.
I sucked it slow, savoring the texture, not letting it get ahead of me. I was developing a spectacular buzz emanating from my love button, spreading in a warm wave through my loins. My finger was starting to distinguish different features of my clit: a sensitive shaft that I had to be gentle with, a hood I could rub vigorously, and a shy tip that would get real sensitive if I tickled it tenderly, then would deliver jolts of pure joy right through me.
I was determined to climax with this cock before it was spent. I tried to focus on myself, to get there first, but my mouth wanted to taste this new cock’s excitement too much. It was like an electric circuit. The more jazzed the cock felt in my mouth, the more jazzed-up my girl parts got.
I got on my knees on the black wooden floor and used both hands to get myself off, one rubbing my clit, the other teasing my pussy lips at the rim of my opening. As the feeling built, I thrust my mouth onto that beautiful, delicious cock again and again, fucking it with my face, as deep as I could. I could feel it swelling, the skin getting tighter. I tasted the precum just as I crested the wave of pleasure coming out of my twat, and when the dam burst at last and spasms of sweet release flooded me from the center of my little universe, the cock in my mouth erupted, spurting cum like a hose, into my mouth, down my throat, spilling out onto my face, running down my chin. It was like coming home.
As I rode the wave of excruciating erotic joy, I felt for the first time that I was drawing almost as much pleasure from the cock as from my girl stuff. The cum wasn’t actually sweet, but it was heady. It was good. I was hungry for it and I sucked it up greedily.
That was the moment I truly became a cum slut, sucking and serving that anonymous cock, worshipping it with my tongue and lips, savoring the semen that I licked off the shaft and sucked from the head. I knew that from that day on, for the rest of my life, even as a toothless granny, I would want to suck cock and taste cum shooting out of it—not just to help me reach my own orgasm, but for it’s own sweet sake.
I used the kleenex to mop up the spilled semen, zipped up, and staggered out onto the street in an erotic daze, barely remembering to grab my daypack at the counter. I never went dildo shopping again, but I did visit my friendly neighborhood glory hole every chance I got for the rest of the summer.
By the last few weeks of my Magic Summer, I had a routine at the bookstore. I’d stroll in, nod at the guy behind the counter, and head down to booth twelve, daypack and all. Some of the regulars would follow me into the back, semi-discreetly—I mean, not actually shoving or tripping over each other. Guy discreet, you know?
I’d lock the door, drop trou, take a bottle of oil from my daypack and spread it on my happy parts, so I wouldn’t rub myself raw over the next hour or two, and by then there would be scratching on both walls and I’d be open up. The booth was small enough to let me use both holes at once. Both glory holes, that is. My personal love hole and my bung hole were still virginal, thank you. Only my mouth was open to the public pubis. But that hole was open wide.
I’d open both glory holes and watch in satisfaction as the first two pricks of the day came through the walls. I was familiar with most of them by now, but there was almost always at least one new cock sometime during my suck-a-thon. 
Sometimes the dicks emerged already fully erect, particularly the ones I knew well, as if they were anxiously awaiting reacquaintance with my oral pleasure palace. Others were at half mast, until I started giving them my attention. I would take one in each hand and pump them up as needed, until they were both good and stiff. I liked the heft and feel of them. I enjoyed the look of their veiny shafts and round heads, so different, yet so alike, all of them hard and wanting release.
Then I’d settle into a squat, with one hand dipping into my personal playground, and I’d alternate a while—sucking one cock while pumping the other with my free hand, going back and forth, tasting and fondling, until I started to get that good feeling from Happy Valley. 
Then I’d choose one cock to focus on and give it my undivided head, bobbing, sucking, swirling, licking, enjoying the way the pressure built as it approached orgasm. I liked to take my time with my own orgasm now. There were plenty of cocks. I’d casually keep the other cock in play with my free hand while I sucked my chosen dick, working it into a frenzy. Soon I’d feel it swell in my mouth, oozing precum.
As often as not, when the first cock boiled over and started squirting warm bursts of cum into my mouth, I’d have a little ‘gasm myself. Just a warm up. The cum all tasted different. A few guys’ tasted nasty, and I’d spit them into a kleenex, but most were okay or actually good, and I gobbled them up, sucking hard on the dicks while they came so I could get it all. 
I always felt a little sad to see them pull back into the wall, soft and flaccid, but I also got a little feeling of satisfaction, of accomplishment.
Man, it was nice to have another cock in my hand, already set to go, especially if I was building toward a big climax. I could fill my mouth and start sucking another dick with no delay, fresh sperm still on my tastebuds, keeping my female mojo going uninterrupted until I clenched and came. Nine times out of ten, when I came, the cock in my mouth would erupt too, no matter how long or short a suck I had given it. Girl power!
I’d usually squat there, masturbating and swallowing cum—most familiar, some strange—for about an hour, sometimes two, until I had about four girl-gasms under my belt, at least two of them big ones. Then I’d zip up and take off, a spring in my step, fresh pussy drool in my panties, cum in my tummy, and a big smile on my face.
I particularly remember my next-to-last visit. There were a couple of regulars hanging around outside when I walked up, just waiting to see if I’d drop by, I think. (I was coming there pretty often by then.) We never spoke, never made eye contact. But they sure checked out my ass and my bouncy little titties! 
They mainly wanted to see if I was a real girl, I think. Why it mattered, I’m not really sure. You put your dick through a hole in the wall and it gets sucked. Who cares who’s doing the sucking? I guess maybe it’s the principle of the thing. Or something. Anyway…
I walked down to booth twelve, my heart already skipping a beat, locked the door, stretched, and pulled my pants and panties down, feeling a little moist and tingly Down Under. I took my time—olive oil, or coconut oil? Coconut stayed slippery longer, but olive oil had a warm sensual texture. Hmm. I spread my clit and pussy lips with olive oil, then spread out a little bandana on the floor to soak up the drippage, and slid the first glory hole open for business.
It was magic that day. First thing, the sweetest pink dick popped out of the wall, already pulsing with excitement. I took the round shaft in my hand and squeezed it. It swelled in pleasure. I popped the reddening head into my mouth and sucked, running my tongue over the slit. I tasted that slippery foreshadowing precum right away, the perfect accompaniment to olive oil. 
I dipped my pussy finger into my mouth, mixing the olive oil and precum, tasting them together, running my finger around the cock head in my mouth, then returned my finger to my swollen clit, where I felt their mingled fluid textures sliding over me together. The dick in my mouth swelled impossibly, then gently splashed cum right onto my tongue, just like that. 
I shuddered with a small girl-gasm of my own at the sudden surprising taste. I didn’t let the cock slip from my mouth and out of my hand right away. I gripped it tight, sucking gently and licking all around the head, affectionately. It rippled and shot a little more come inside my mouth, as if to say thanks.
I opened the other glory hole, already a little breathless, only to meet my old friend, the long olive cock with the left hand curve—the first glory hole cock I had cum on. We had a happy reunion. I had been practicing for weeks now, and I was able to take the whole length of that long, handsome dong into my mouth, suppressing my gag reflex, and open my throat. I felt my throat muscles contract around the rim of his helmet as I swallowed. 
I rocked back and forth, that long cock down my throat, my fingers flashing over my oiled clit, for several minutes, taking it out only to breathe. We came together massively. I almost fell over, and the man attached to the cock must have done the same—his weenie popped back through the hole with an audible plop, and I heard low, deep laughter from the other side of the wall.
I sucked seven cocks that day, and had four breathtaking orgasms.
On this particular visit, I went on sucking cock and eating cum for a while—even after zipping up Miss Happy Pants—just for the pleasure of it: feeling them tremble, grow suddenly bigger in my mouth, then explode, pulsing with excitement, heat, and cum.
Eventually I closed up shop, waited for the scratching on the walls to stop, and split. I was in a good mood, loose and happy, content, feeling like I’d eaten a little too much yogurt, but ready for a cup of dark roast coffee and something for dessert. I had a pastry at a little cafe in the chi-chi district that was gradually eating away the seedy part of town. I felt like I owned this part of the city: Queen Cindy the First of the Olde Raunch District. I so ruled.
My final visit to the bookstore a few days later was sad and different. There were a bunch of cop cars out front and lots of flashing lights. I didn’t go in. I walked past and made myself scarce for a while, and when I came back, the sign just said CLOSED. 
It never reopened. After a while I stopped going by. I poked into the few other, surviving smut stores, the last two nearby and a couple by the edge of town, but none of them had anything like my Glory Hole. It was the last of its kind, I guess.
Like summer break, my glory days were over. It was time to leave my ‘rent’s house and start a new chapter in my life, anyway. I had confidence now that I would find other cocks to suck, somewhere. They were out there, just waiting for Cindy’s Special Mouth. I couldn’t wait to taste them.
And I was still a virgin! Time to fix that, soon, I thought.


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