The Descent

by Uncle Dick Handcock

Copyright© 2019 by Uncle Dick Handcock

Erotica Sex Story: There are a lot of guys out there living lives of quiet desperation. I was one. For some of us, the roads lead to places we'd rather not go, but you take what you can get...

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma   BiSexual   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Porn Theatre   .

I have no idea why anyone would WANT this, but it’s mine.
Don’t go plagiarizing it.

Initially, I thought that this started a lot later, but on second thought ... it was a gloryhole. I was, oh, eighteen, nineteen. No, I wasn’t fascinated with cocks from age eight or anything. We’ll get into this, but I think my story is more real than stereotypical. I’m not gay — I’m bisexual, and I lean — HARD — toward women. So how come I’m a cum slut? I think the primary answer is ‘desperation.’ You decide — it’s why you’re here, after all...

I was — well, location doesn’t really matter, does it? It could be any one of hundreds of places. I was in the military, and that meant that there were probably forty guys for every woman in sight. I was young and dumb and full of cum — I know you’ve heard that one — and one day, I rode the train downtown to run some errands and had to hit a public restroom to do my business...

I don’t know about you, but I HATE to take a dump in a public bathroom. The toilet paper ALWAYS sucks, one way or another. Either it’s so slick that it picks up nothing and your ass is still funky after forty feet of it, or it is rough and tries to sandpaper your asshole off, or there are no perforations, so you have to fight with it, or ... Well, pick two, or maybe all three, or enter your own issue — I didn’t even come close to covering everything. Come on, you’ve done it, so you know. Even without the whole embarrassing ‘public’ aspect of making a stink with other people in the room, it’s just not a satisfactory experience. The first thing I worry about is having to go home after and change my underwear.

There were two stalls, with painted wooden partitions — and a hole in the thin plywood partition between me and the next stall. It’s a big hole, three or four inches in diameter. I sit way back so I’m not visible through it and eye it warily.

The guy in the next stall is doing something — and it’s not taking a dump. Those noises don’t come from that activity; I’m instinctively aware of what they DO mean, because I’d been jerking off since I was thirteen, you know? I sat there, amazed that someone would just jerk off in a public restroom...

And I got hard — no big surprise. At that age, it took NOTHING to get me hard — Hell, hard was my default condition! My dick stood right up and started waving, which was a little embarrassing.

The guy leaned up. I couldn’t see his face, but he could see my dick. It was all about angles. He didn’t want his face seen, and I for DAMN sure didn’t want MINE seen, but if he was looking at my dick, he couldn’t see my face and I couldn’t see his. He had to stop jacking to get the angle, so he would jack for a minute and then lean up and look. Then he would tap his foot. I had no idea what that meant, but it seemed to be some kind of signal.

This went on for a few minutes. I couldn’t jerk myself off — it was too embarrassing — but my cock was like stone and it wasn’t going down. He would jerk, then look for a bit, then tap his foot — and I sat there, frozen, watching what little I could see of his movements through the hole. It wasn’t much — just enough to know he moved forward and back and that his pants were down around his ankles.

Then he stuck his finger through the hole...

I nearly got up and ran. He was pointing at my dick! What did it mean? After a moment, he withdrew his finger, but he was still sitting forward to look at my hardon. After a little bit, he repeated the maneuver.

I was shaking like a leaf! What did he want? Surely...

He turned his hand over and beckoned with the finger.

‘Jeezus! He wants my dick?’ I was dumbfounded! ‘What the fuck is he gonna do with it?’ I sat there, watching the finger, bug-eyed, as it beckoned again. Then he withdrew it — and waited...

I — figuratively only — got a grip on my nuts and slowly stood and approached the hole — but stopped before sticking it through. I stood there, thinking, ‘What if he has a razor blade or something and he whacks my dick off?’ If I didn’t bleed to death, I would likely die of embarrassment and my military career would be over, at the very least! So I stood there with my cock hanging just outside the portal, sweating and shaking...

He had to have known, because he was VERY slow as he reached two fingers through the hole and used them to caress the first couple of inches of my cock. He ran his fingers over everything in reach — top side, bottom, the tip of my glans — unable to put his whole hand through the hole...

... And THAT was the defining moment, in all probability. Having someone else’s fingers on my cock felt GREAT! As he withdrew his fingers, I shuffled forward trustingly — and a hot mouth engulfed my cock!

I grabbed the top of the partition, gasping, pushing my entire length through that hole and into the mouth on the other side. Soft lips rolled up and down my shaft, a hot tongue danced along the underside and I let out a whine and EXPLODED! I gushed out what seemed like a quart of cum into that mouth!

He sucked and licked and pumped his lips up and down my shaft, collecting everything I had to give, and extending my pleasure for over a minute, until I withdrew my cock, unable to stand the exquisite sensations in the aftermath of my climax. It had been AMAZING! He was clearly reluctant to release me, but I went almost immediately from joy to massive paranoia, and nearly killed myself getting my pants up and getting out of there! I didn’t EVEN want to get seen by this guy! Would he stalk me? Blackmail me? Was anyone ELSE watching? What I had just done was WRONG and I was going to be in HUGE trouble if it surfaced! But I got clear and was apparently safe, so I sat in a snack bar up the hall and watched people, looking for enemies while I slowly settled down.

Nobody cared. Nobody was interested in me. I got to thinking about it. If nothing else, the guy who cleaned that restroom knew that hole was there. Did he know what it was for? How long had it been there? Thinking back over my history in public bathrooms, I remembered several big patches in stall walls; I’d always assumed that the toilet paper holder had broken the wall somehow, and the chunk had been patched — but now there was CLEARLY another possible reason...

I’d been in restrooms where there was graffiti — and I liked to read it and got a kick out of it. But I never realized that some of that stuff was SERIOUS! That particular restroom was in good repair and there WAS no graffiti — and the partitions looked freshly painted — but the hole was there...

I waited two hours, probably, then I went back to that restroom — and alone in it, I looked at EVERYTHING, paranoid that I’d been observed by some unknown person and the trap would close on me at some point in the near future. Now, this was decades ago, and technology wasn’t what it is today, thank God — today, I’d have KNOWN I was screwed, because a camera could have been ANYWHERE.

But I found nothing...

I headed back to my place and put the whole thing away — but jerking off wasn’t as much fun anymore. Over the next week, the whole thing preyed on me, and when the weekend came, I had more than my usual errands on my mind...

In the first place, I hit SEVERAL public restrooms, looking for holes in the partitions. I had to work at not giving off creepy vibes, and was scared to death that anyone in a restroom that I checked out would guess what I was REALLY there for. Then I went to THE bathroom and settled into the stall — and sat there until it felt like I was getting hemorrhoids, waiting for someone to show up and be interested in my cock...

... And no one did, of course. I went home profoundly disappointed.

THAT preyed on me, too. How often did that guy show up? Was there more than one guy? When would he be there, and when was I wasting my time? How in the Hell would I find out, exactly? I was going to discover over time that any assignation of a sexual nature was hit-and-miss — and that when you missed, all it served to do was make you more likely to go the extra mile the next time ... I was committed when I went back the next weekend, in a hurry to see to it that the unknown cocksucker got his mouthful of seed and I got the pleasure he gave me in return!

I hit the restroom five different times, not staying if there was no one there. Nothing. I went in and sat for a while. Nothing. I went out and ate a bit and made preparations to head back on the bus, and put in one final appearance — and there was someone in the stall! In fact, there was someone in BOTH stalls! This left me in a quandary — were they doing anything? If I took a serious interest, they were going to see me through the inevitable gaps in the stall door openings and they would probably stop — at least — but curiosity was KILLING me! Was this just a couple of guys taking a dump, or was somebody getting a suck? I went out and waited a few minutes, then went back inside — and no one had gone anywhere. No one left. Wasn’t that suspicious? One stall was against the wall, so there was no way to get alongside it, but the other one offered the option of squatting and getting a look under the partition. I washed my hands and went over to the trash can, then took the risk that someone would open the door and find me there and dropped down for a look, going to my hands and knees...

The guy in the near stall had his pants pushed all the way down and his feet spread in a way that said his knees were spread wide. The situation in the far stall was less clear. But then the guy in the near stall tapped his foot...

It was HIM! If it wasn’t, there were TWO of them! I wanted to see what was going on in those stalls SO BAD!!! I popped up and opened the bathroom door and let it close, so that the occupants of the stalls would think I was gone, then I crept closer to the partition. There was no way I could get close enough to see anything, I realized eventually. If I did, they could probably see my feet. But I was stuck in the room until someone else came in, so I could exit undetected in his shadow. I drifted VERY slowly back to the trough urinal hoping that I wouldn’t make a noise that got me detected. That got me a little visibility through the stall doors, but I, too, would be exposed, if they were looking.

They weren’t. After a few moments of silence, the guy in the near stall started jacking off — I could hear him. Then he stopped, leaned up, and tapped his foot...

All I had was tantalizing glimpses through the vertical crack in the stall door. It was enough to see him move, but not enough to see what he was doing. If I left my station and drifted closer, I WOULD get seen or heard, and I WOULD have a problem explaining what the fuck I was doing hanging around directly outside the stalls when the next guy came in to do HIS business. I had what I was going to get.

It turned out to be plenty! The guy in the end stall stood up and turned to face the partition — I could see his feet — and he shuffled to the wall and gripped the top of the partition with his hands! The next sound I heard was a groan...

I wanted to jerk off like mad! It got worse, too — I could hear the liquid sounds of the cocksucker at work and the guy hissing and gasping and saying “Yeah, suck it! Suck my cock! Your mouth is so good!” — in an intense whisper. I thought I was gonna die — or shoot in my pants, at the very least! I could just see movement in the stall — the sucker bobbing on the other guy’s cock. I couldn’t actually see it, but I could see the hint of movement and I KNEW what that movement was! I would have given big money to see what was going on, but it wasn’t an option — they’d have stopped.

I got lucky, a couple of ways. We had peace and quiet until they finished and the guy in the second stall hissed and grunted and whispered “Take it! Suck my cum, you hot-mouthed cocksucker!” and sighed and groaned in enjoyment as the guy sucking kept sucking, giving him after-care. Then I was lucky a second time, because someone came in to take a leak while the guy in the far stall was getting his pants up and preparing to exit the stall. I hadn’t even THOUGHT about what I was going to do when they found me standing silently outside the stalls! As it was, I got clear and went out and settled to watch and see who came out of the restroom.

I didn’t care who it was, and I avoided getting seen looking at faces — all I needed was a number, and the number was two! Two men exited the bathroom — which meant that the sucker was still in there! Hurriedly, I got up and headed back in, moving right to the far stall and settling on the toilet.

I was barely settled when someone else came in and tried the door! Grunting, the guy turned and left, leaving me wondering whether he wanted to use the toilet, or he wanted a blowjob. That left me nervous — but I wanted my cock sucked in the worst way!

We settled in — but it was a couple of minutes before I heard sounds. I guess that he was waiting to hear — and smell — indications that I was there to take a dump. Then the sounds started — he was jerking off. I leaned up enough to see it, but it was just to confirm things — I didn’t want him getting the wrong idea. My cock got as stiff as a board and I settled back to wait — not as far as I had previously; I wanted him to be able to see my cock without having to lean up too far.

It worked — he leaned up, but continued to jerk off. Excited, I actually touched my cock this time — not jacking it, but presenting it, more or less — moving my hand up and down it VERY slowly, and using my finger to push it down, then releasing it and letting it bob up.

That moved us forward. Confident, he tapped his foot — and I got up and without hesitation fed my cock through the hole.

It was a different guy! At the very least, it was a different technique! It was just as good — maybe better — but DEFINITELY different! There was more than one of them! I fed the guy my meat, groaning, my hands gripping the partition top as I pressed myself as deep into that hole as possible! It was great, too — the guy sucked and slavered and his mouth was hot and wet and pretty soon I lit off, dropping a BIG load in his mouth!

Somebody came in, so I plunked myself down on the toilet and rearranged my stuff, pretending I’d just arrived or whatever. By the time I was settled and starting to get ready to leave, the door banged next door — my cocksucker was gone. Well, I didn’t really think I wanted to know him — and I KNEW I didn’t want him to know ME, so it wasn’t a problem. I flushed, put me back together, and went out to wash up and leave.

At that point, I was sensitized — and committed. Pussy was hard — if not impossible — to get, but if I went to the right places, I could get a blowjob. I looked for more places, but couldn’t find any; I really didn’t know where to look at that point. I turned up a few places where the graffiti was thick, but I never saw any action and there were no holes.

So, I went a couple of times a week — usually during the day on Saturday, and in the evening on Wednesday before I hit the strip bars. Strip bars took a lot of my money at that point in time — like I said, women are out in front — but I would be unhappy if I hit the bars after not finding anyone in that restroom to play with.

Then one Saturday afternoon, it happened — I got the flip side of the coin. I showed up and settled in and there was a guy in the other stall. He was jerking and I was jerking, but there was no foot-tapping or sticking a finger through the partition for either of us. We were just looking and jerking — and both of us were being REAL careful. It went on and on...

Then he got up and slid his cock through the hole! It was a black one — nice sized, not anything legendary — around the size of my own, which I was to learn over time was a bit above average. I sat looking at it for a moment, then reached out to jack it a bit. I don’t know why — curiosity, I guess. He groaned in pleasure and this feeling came over me — a realization that I was in control, here, and he was looking for me to deliver pleasure — but it was up to me...

Teasing came to mind immediately. I played with his cock rubbing it and fisting it and rolling my thumb over the tip. I knew it wasn’t enough to get him off — but it was enough to keep him from going anywhere. He let me get away with it for a couple of minutes before he pulled it back through the hole.

I figured he owed me, so I got up and stuck my cock through. He rubbed it and jacked it — and he went a step further, licking it and rolling his lips over it for a tantalizing few seconds. But then he stopped. I hung out for a few seconds and withdrew — and he slid his cock back through the hole.

So, I did it — he’d done it first, so it was no big thing, right? It was turnabouts. I opened my mouth and sucked him in. I’d give him a few seconds, like he did me, and we would move on...

... Only it didn’t happen that way. He was primed and ready, and the few seconds I gave him was enough and he let go in my mouth! His cock pumped and pulsed on my tongue and suddenly, I had a mouthful of salty, gooey cum! It didn’t take long — just a few seconds — and surprise held me in place while he finished and withdrew.

Jeezus! I had CUM in my mouth! I got up and spat it into the toilet, but the guy owed me, so I stuck my cock through the hole...

... And I learned a lesson. There is no give-and-take in such things. Once one of you gets his, you’re done! If you’re not the one who got off, then you’re the bottom guy — and you’d better like what you got, because the top guy is done and he leaves! The dude had his pants up while I was standing up in the stall and he was GONE already when I stuck my dick through that hole for mine!

Even more irritating was the fact that nobody ELSE came along to deal with me! I rushed out of the stall and washed my mouth out in the sink, horrified that I had SUCKED COCK and had CUM in my mouth, then went back to the stall and waited ... and waited ... and waited ... And when it felt like my asshole was hanging wide open and I was getting hemorrhoids, I finally got up and trudged out of there. There had been one assignation — and I’d been the sucker, not the suckee! I was NOT a happy camper!

On future trips, I was VERY careful — but that particular situation didn’t repeat itself there. And eventually, I moved on...

The next few years were pretty miserable. Girls were few and far between and in the new places I went to, there didn’t seem to be any gloryholes anywhere. I chased down a woman for a while, but an unfortunate incident pissed her off and we stopped dating; it wasn’t MY fault that her daughter started coming on to me! I didn’t encourage it or take advantage AT ALL, but the facts were enough. A buddy introduced me to his sister-in-law, but that crashed. I dated one girl who was absolutely beautiful all over — except for her nose. I didn’t care, but she was traumatized and couldn’t get over it. She was ALSO a dead lay — and that and her ongoing self-pity killed us. There were other silly and short incidents, like the chick who gave me the clap TWICE and then wondered why I wouldn’t see her again ... It seemed like I was only attractive to women ten years older than me, but I took what I could get and stayed in there, swinging ... But it wasn’t enough. It was SELDOM enough. I dated the woman with the daughter for several months before we broke up, and it usually went like this: I picked her up Friday night and we went clubbing — then back to my place to fuck. We would fuck and sleep ALL DAY Saturday, then go clubbing Saturday night — after which we went BACK to my place and fucked and slept and laid around until Sunday afternoon — when I took her home. That period was about the only time I was happy at that posting — except toward the tail end of things, when I SOMEHOW got tied up with a married chick. That’s another tale — suffice it to say it wasn’t my idea and I tried to do the right thing, but she was VERY determined and VERY persuasive! Generally, though, for most of a three-year period, my balls were always full and I had no place to empty them except Rosy Palm and her four sisters.

Then I was moved — and things ACTUALLY GOT WORSE!

The new posting was ten, twelve, fourteen-hour days, and if you didn’t have your quota — and we NEVER did — it was weekends, too. The boss was a two-fisted drinker and he would drag us to the bar up the street — one of those places where EVERYONE was a two-fisted drinker and there was no entertainment — you just sat and talked and drank until you couldn’t anymore. I’m amazed that such places are allowed to exist, frankly, but I’ve seen more than one. Women don’t even come in. I couldn’t date — I had no time and no energy and the few hours I wasn’t working, I was either doing the basic chores you have to do to live — laundry and such — drunk, or asleep. But the nearby city had ... fleshpots.

It had adult video stores. It even had a couple of adult theaters — real theaters — old ones in disrepair that had been showplaces in their heyday, back before television, when everybody went to the movies to see the show and the news or war propaganda or whatever depending upon when it was. At that point, they were shadows of their former selves, but people moved in those shadows...

The video stores had peep booths, of course — but there was something ‘social’ about the theaters. They were exciting. There was stuff going on that was more exciting than what happened on the screen. You positioned yourself as best you could to watch it, rather than the video, lots of times, and you waited for one of THEM to come see you...

I went looking for the occasional couple — hoping that couple included a theater slut. They were few and far between — and cherished by everybody. They made their own rules — and maybe you only got to watch her and her boyfriend go at it, but maybe you got to touch — maybe you even got a blowjob, or jerked off, or the chance to rub a titty or diddle her clit. Whatever you got, even if it was only an eyeful, you were grateful for — theater sluts were living proof that not all of the women out there were frozen things that didn’t do sex. They validated women — and they validated you, too, in the process. Looks meant NOTHING if the woman was willing to DO anything — she could weigh five hundred pounds and STILL get all the attention she desired, from as many males as she was willing to deal with.

But theater sluts were few and far between; on a normal night, you dealt with the other denizens. Guys in a theater tend to be one of three or four flavors. Either they’re desperate, like I was, or they’re gay — or maybe a transvestite or a cross-dresser, which was usually what you had if you stumbled upon a ‘woman’ alone in a seat — or they were a fourth group, old guys who couldn’t get it up and sucked dick just to have sex of some type. I didn’t get it — I thought they were just gays — but they’re something different...

The back of the theater was where the wilder ones usually were, so I would avoid the back at that time and take a seat up a ways, looking for a couple. In the darkness lit by only the flickering of the screen, things were hard to make out from above and behind — and you could discover that a ‘couple’ was two guys. When you did, you shifted to another seat. There was always a lot of movement. Eventually, someone moved in on you and you and he were the couple — or nothing happened and you went home frustrated.

One of the local theaters seemed dead until I discovered that the action was in the balcony. You weren’t supposed to BE in the balcony — it was roped off and supposedly unsafe — but that’s where the theater sluts went, so, once I’d discovered that, it was where I went.

Again, I’m NOT gay — but circumstances led me slowly toward being a bisexual. Desperation and blue balls can lead a guy to do a lot of things...

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