A Romantic Evening with Deepthroat and A Glory Hole Part 1
By Freya Ocean
They had talked about going to a glory hole before. As usual for two inner-city, career-driven people, life gets in the way.
The last time they’d wanted to go, one of Steven’s clients had had some huge crisis that he had to deal with.
They’d had to put it off yet again. As February was approaching, with weary minds and bodies after spending the holiday season with their families in different parts of the country, they had laughed that Valentine’s Day would be a great day to go to a glory hole.
Steven had spent Christmas and New Year’s in San Diego with his dad and stepmom. He actually preferred to call her stepmonster.
While he hated living far away from his dad and siblings, he was happy that there were 2,700 miles between himself and her.
They had spent Christmas at the beach. It had been very casual compared to his corporate life in New York City. He’d video called Jackie as the sun set over the Pacific Ocean.
She’d looked like an Esikmo when she answered. She wore a big green parka with a fluffy fake fur hood. Every breath she took turned to white smoke, illuminated by the streetlights.
She had been in St. Cloud, Minnesota with her family. She playfully told him off for calling her from the beach while she was out for a walk in the snow.
She said she would blame him if her fingers fell off.
Glory hole resolutions
When they were both back in Manhattan in early January, they felt anything but rested after the holidays.
It didn’t help that January was dark and cold in the city and they both worked 60-hour weeks. They needed something to look forward to.
One rare evening at the end of January, they were both home before 8 pm. They’d opened a bottle of wine and sat together on their couch in their midtown apartment.
Neither of them was particularly fond of celebrating Valentine’s Day. All the good restaurants in the city booked up a long time in advance and they were all packed anyways.
Jackie had jokingly suggested that maybe they should go to that East Village sex club that has a glory hole. What could be more romantic for Valentine’s?
As Steven’s laughter subsided, he looked at Jackie.
Her legs were crossed, wrapped in a pair of dark green yoga pants. She’d thrown her suit in the laundry basket and jumped in the shower as soon as she’d got home.
An old Grateful Dead hoodie was paired with the yoga pants. She’d picked it up in a thrift store on Bleecker Street for $15.
Her dark brown straight, but thick, hair stopped just above her shoulders. Steven could smell her coconut shampoo from across the beige four-seater.
She took a sip of wine and stared out the window. The Midtown towers lit up the sky like diamonds around them. A few freckles dotted her pale cheeks.
Fresh out of the shower, with unbrushed hair and no makeup, was how Steven preferred her.
She was always beautiful but there was an innocence over her natural look that made him want to throw her over the kitchen counter and spank her ass with a spatula until it was crimson.
The glory hole conversation
“I think a glory hole is just what you deserve for Valentine’s Day my love,” he said. “I can’t see a better way to spend it.”
She tore her eyes from the skyline and looked at him. He still wore his suit pants and shirt. At least he had unbuttoned his shirt.
Despite working such long hours, Steven always ensured to keep fit. He made use of the gym in his office building.
Jackie could glimpse his six-pack behind his open shirt.
The crisp white fabric was tight across his broad shoulders. For a fleeting moment, she wished he would pick her up and throw her down on the coffee table.
Then she brought her mind back to the glory hole conversation.
They had a stag/vixen relationship. They weren’t married and he wasn’t her cuckold. He did love seeing other men fuck her, though.
The sluttier she was, the more turned on he was. He liked to be in control of their meets. Sometimes he’d send her out on her own to meet guys.
He’d then expect her to take photos or videos for him, or to come home to him after and tell him all about it. Often she’d come back looking disheveled and he wouldn’t let her shower.
Last time they hadn’t made it past the hallway. They had both come home at the same time, him from work and her from another man’s apartment. As soon as they’d closed the front door, he pushed her against the wall and took her hard.
Naturally, he couldn’t wait to see her take on the big dicks in a glory hole.
Romance in the East Village
Valentine’s Day arrived and they found themselves stepping out of the cab in front of a big black door. It was their first time at this particular club.
He wore a black suit and she a long black dress and high heels under her long coat.
People on the street wouldn’t have guessed where they were going. They probably assumed they were going to a fancy restaurant or a cocktail party. Rather than a cock party.
He walked slightly behind her and put his hand on her lower back as she walked up to the door. It swung open without them ringing the doorbell.
A 6’5 man with wide shoulders looked down at them briefly and then stood aside to let them pass.
The room they found themselves in was inconspicuous.
Wooden floor, dark wallpaper, a woman behind a desk who charged them the entry fee and held her hand out showing them to walk down the hallway.
A woman wearing only a black thong and shiny nipple tassels held open a pair of dark red velvet curtains for them. She smiled and welcomed them as they passed.
Behind the curtains, the place was anything but inconspicuous.
Read Part 2, here