I was scrolling late one night, dick already half-hard from boredom and horniness, when I typed "gay stories" into the search bar. Up popped the Nifty Gay Archive. One click and I was in. Rows of categories stared back at me: first time, gloryhole, anonymous, cum dump. I picked the gloryhole section and started reading.
The first story hit like a fist. Some guy described kneeling in a dirty booth, mouth open, while a thick stranger cock pushed through the hole. No names, no faces, just raw sucking and swallowing. My own cock twitched hard. I yanked it out, spit in my palm, and started stroking while I read every filthy detail. The writer talked about the taste of precum, the way the shaft throbbed on his tongue, how he gagged but kept going until the guy on the other side grunted and flooded his throat. I came fast, shooting ropes across my stomach, but I didn't close the tab. I kept reading.
Story after story pulled me deeper.
Guys getting used in parks, in restrooms, in the back of vans. The language was blunt: "he rammed his cock down my throat," "I bent over and took every inch," "he bred me and left without a word." My dick stayed stiff. I edged through three more stories, balls aching, until I couldn't take it anymore. I needed the real thing.
The archive mentioned a local cruising spot, an old highway rest area with gloryholes carved into the stalls. I drove there the next night, heart pounding, cock already leaking in my jeans. The place was dim, one flickering light outside. I walked into the men's room like I belonged there. Two stalls, a hole between them. I picked the left one, dropped my pants, and waited.
Footsteps. The door to the next stall opened and closed. A moment later a thick, veiny cock pushed through the hole, already half-hard and dark at the head. I dropped to my knees on the cold tile without thinking. No talking. I wrapped my lips around it and sucked. The taste was salty, real, nothing like the stories but exactly like them. I bobbed my head, taking more each time, letting spit run down the shaft. The guy on the other side groaned low and pushed his hips forward. His cock hit the back of my throat and I gagged but didn't pull off. I wanted it.
He fucked my face through the hole, short hard thrusts. My own cock hung untouched between my legs, dripping onto the floor. After a minute he pulled back, tapped the hole, and I knew what he wanted. I stood, turned around, and backed up. I reached behind me, spread my ass, and guided that wet cock to my hole. It burned going in, thick and relentless. I bit my lip to stay quiet while he sank balls-deep. Then he started pounding.
Every thrust slammed me against the partition. My hole stretched around him, taking the raw fucking I'd read about for hours. He didn't slow down. He used me like a hole, grunting with each drive. Pre-cum and spit made everything slick. My dick bounced with the force, leaking steadily. I reached down and jerked myself fast, matching his rhythm.
He lasted longer than I expected. When he finally came he shoved in deep and stayed there, pulsing hot cum straight into my guts. I felt every spurt. He pulled out without a word, wiped off on my ass cheek, and left. I stayed bent over, hole twitching, cum starting to leak out and run down my balls.
Another set of footsteps. A second cock appeared, longer and thinner. I didn't hesitate. I sucked it clean, then turned and offered my sloppy hole again. This one slid in easy, the first load acting like lube. He fucked me slower, almost teasing, until I was pushing back onto him, begging with my body. When he came he pulled out and shot across my lower back, marking me.
I jerked myself hard and fast after that, cum dripping from my wrecked hole, until I shot my own load all over the stall wall. Legs shaking, I cleaned up as best I could and walked out.
Back home I opened the Nifty Gay Archive again. I wrote my own story that night, raw and direct, about the rest area and the two loads I'd taken. I posted it under the gloryhole section. By morning it had dozens of comments from guys who wanted the same thing. I read every one, stroking my cock, already planning my next trip.
The archive had turned me into exactly what the stories described: a willing, cum-hungry hole. And I wasn't going back.
