Chapter 4: Taking Drew to the Gloryhole

The afternoon sun had barely started dipping when Drew turned those big hazel eyes up at me in the living room, twisting her fingers together like she used to when she was little and wanted something she knew she shouldn’t ask for. Her voice came out small, almost swallowed by the hum of the air conditioner. “Uncle Gary ... I feel like I’m not as good at giving blowjobs as I need to be. I want to get better like that. For you.”

My cock gave an immediate heavy twitch inside my jeans just hearing the words leave her mouth. She’d come so far already, that sweet hesitant girl turning into something hungry, something that craved the stretch and the taste and the filthy approval in my eyes. I reached out, brushed my thumb along her lower lip, watched it part for me on instinct. “Yeah, baby girl. We can do that. But we’re gonna do it right this time. Real practice.”

Her breath caught. Curiosity and nerves danced together in her expression, making her cheeks flush that perfect pink I loved so much. I didn’t explain more, just took her hand, led her out to the truck, and drove us to the edge of town where that squat, windowless adult bookstore squats like it’s been there forever. The parking lot held the usual mix of beat-up sedans and work trucks, a couple motorcycles leaning against the wall. Drew squeezed my fingers tighter as we walked up. The bell above the door gave its familiar tired jingle when we pushed inside.

The smell hit her first, thick and unmistakable, rubber and vinyl and old spilled lube and decades of cigarette smoke soaked into the carpet even though nobody’s allowed to light up anymore. She pressed closer to my side, her short denim skirt riding dangerously high on those smooth thighs, the thin white crop top clinging to the gentle swell of her tits, nipples already poking through because she’d skipped the bra like I’d told her to. Heads turned. Half a dozen men, mostly in their fifties and sixties, some with gray at the temples, some carrying extra weight around the middle, some skinny and hollow-cheeked, all of them paused what they were doing to drink her in. A young, slender brunette on the arm of a man old enough to be her father, maybe her grandfather. Their eyes tracked us like predators scenting fresh meat moving through the aisles of glossy DVD covers and silicone cocks.

I kept my grip firm on her waist, guiding her past racks of lesbian gangbangs and interracial creampies, past the lingerie section where fishnet bodystockings hung like empty skins. Toward the back the lighting dimmed, red and purple neon bleeding from the signs above the arcade booths. Men lingered in the narrow hallway, some leaning against the wall scrolling phones, others standing too close to the cracked-open doors, listening to the wet rhythmic slapping and female moans leaking out. One older black guy in a faded hoodie gave us a slow once-over, lips curling into something appreciative. A skinny white kid, barely out of his teens, stared openly at Drew’s legs until I met his gaze and he dropped his eyes fast.

She didn’t say anything, but her breathing had gone shallow, little hitches every few steps. The taboo of it all was sinking in, the reality that these strangers were already imagining her mouth wrapped around them. My dick ached behind my zipper, thick and impatient.

I chose an empty booth near the end, pushed the door open, pulled her inside, and locked it. The space was tiny, barely enough room for the narrow bench bolted to one wall and the gloryhole cut at waist height, edges patched with silver duct tape that had started peeling. A single red bulb overhead gave everything a feverish glow. Drew stared at the hole, confusion creasing her brow. “Uncle Gary ... is that real? I thought they were just for porno videos, not real!”

I stepped behind her, hands settling on her hips, letting her feel how hard I already was as I pressed against her ass. “Gloryhole, sweetheart. Means men put their cocks through there. Anonymous. They don’t see your face, you don’t see theirs. They just want your mouth, your hands, whatever you’re willing to give. And you ... you get to practice without worrying who’s watching.”

Her swallow was audible. She turned her head just enough to look up at me, eyes huge and glassy. “I don’t know if I can do that ... with strangers.” My fingers tightened on her hips, thumbs stroking the bare skin where her top rode up. “You wanted to learn how to suck cock like a good girl. This is how. Start slow. Touch. Taste. Make me proud, baby. Show me how much you want to please.”

She bit her lip so hard I thought she might break the skin, then gave the tiniest nod. Almost on cue, movement on the other side of the wall, a soft metallic scrape, and then a thick pale cock pushed through the hole, already half-hard, uncut, veins standing out under the thin skin. Late forties maybe, heavy balls hanging below. Drew gasped, took a half-step back until her shoulders hit my chest.

I kept her steady. “Just touch it first. Feel how hot it is. How it jumps when you wrap your fingers around it.”

Trembling, she reached out. Small hand, pink nails, wrapped delicately around the shaft. It flexed hard in her grip, thickening instantly. She stroked once, twice, slow and curious, watching the foreskin slide back to reveal the shiny plum head, a bead of pre-cum already welling at the slit. The guy groaned low through the wall, the sound vibrating the thin partition.

“Good girl,” I whispered against her ear, my breath stirring her hair. “Now taste him. Just the tip. See what he tastes like.”

She leaned in slow, hesitant, tongue darting out to lap at that salty droplet. Her nose wrinkled at the sharpness, but she didn’t pull away. Lips parted wider, took just the head inside, warm wet heat enveloping him. She sucked gently, cheeks dipping in, tongue swirling experimental circles. The cock throbbed violently. She bobbed a little, barely an inch or two, getting used to the weight on her tongue.

He didn’t last long. A few more soft sucks and he grunted, hips jerking forward as much as the wall allowed. Hot spurts hit her tongue, thick and bitter. Drew’s eyes went wide, throat working as she swallowed on reflex, some escaping the corners of her mouth in pearly strings. When he finally pulled back, she looked up at me, lips shiny, cheeks flushed, and I nodded once. “Perfect, baby. So fucking perfect.”

The next one came through almost immediately, darker, thicker, black skin gleaming under the red light, already fully hard and leaking steadily. This time she didn’t hesitate. Dropped to her knees on the gritty floor, skirt riding up to show the white cotton panties already darkened at the crotch. She took him in both hands, stroked the length reverently, then opened wide and slid her mouth down as far as she could. Gagged when he hit the back of her throat, eyes watering instantly, but she pushed forward anyway, determined. Saliva spilled fast, dripping in shiny ropes from her chin, coating her fingers as she pumped what wouldn’t fit. The guy fucked the hole in short thrusts, grunting praise I couldn’t quite make out. Drew moaned around him, the sound vibrating straight through his shaft, one hand slipping between her own thighs to rub frantic circles over her soaked panties.