Chapter 3: Gloryhole the Revenge

My name is Erica, and last Tuesday I found a receipt in my husband Marcus's jeans pocket. It was from a hotel downtown — the kind of place you don't book for a business meeting. I didn't say anything to him. I just memorized the date on the receipt and waited. Three days later, on Friday evening, he called me from the office to say he'd be working late. Again. The same excuse he used on the date stamped on that hotel receipt.

I poured myself a glass of Merlot and called Lisa.

She showed up twenty minutes later with a second bottle, her bag slung over one shoulder, and that look on her face that meant she already knew something was wrong. Lisa and I had been best friends since college. She was the kind of woman who walked into a room and made it warmer — dark hair, quick laugh, and absolutely zero filter between her brain and her mouth.

"So," she said, kicking off her shoes and dropping onto the couch beside me. "What did he do?"

I told her everything. The receipt. The late nights. The way he'd started keeping his phone face-down on the kitchen counter. The way he'd stopped reaching for me in bed. Lisa listened, sipping her wine, and when I finished, she set her glass down hard enough to make the coffee table rattle.

"Fuck him," she said. Not angry — matter of fact. Like she was reading a weather report. "Fuck him and every lying bone in his body."

I already feel like I've lost something. Like I gave years to a man who was busy giving himself to someone else.

Lisa turned to face me, tucking one leg underneath her. Her eyes were sharp now, calculating. I'd seen that look before — right before she talked me into getting a tattoo in Cabo, right before she convinced me to quit my first job and find something better. It was the look that meant trouble, and I'd learned to trust it.

"You want to sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or do you want to get even?"

"Get even how?"

She leaned closer. "I know a place."

"What kind of place?"

"The kind of place where you walk in a woman who's been cheated on, and you walk out a woman who remembers what it feels like to be wanted by a dozen strangers who don't know your name and don't care about anything except how good you make them feel."

I stared at her. "You're serious."

"Dead serious. It's a gloryhole. Clean, private, discreet. No names, no faces, no condoms — just you and whatever you want to do. I'll be there the whole time. I'll film everything on my phone so you can send it to Marcus if you want, or keep it for yourself, or delete it. Your call."

My heart was already hammering. I could feel the wine warming my chest, loosening something that had been clenched for a week. "What exactly happens at a gloryhole?"

"Dicks come through holes in the wall. You do whatever you want with them. Suck them, fuck them, let them cum inside you — whatever you're in the mood for. There's a partition so nobody sees your face. Total anonymity."

"And you've done this before?"

She grinned. "Once. Last year, after my divorce. It was the most liberating night of my life. I left feeling like a goddess."

I took a long drink of wine. The glass was almost empty. "You said a dozen cocks."

"At least. Friday nights are busy. And Erica — you're a ten. You're blonde, you've got that body that makes men walk into poles. They're going to lose their minds."

I looked down at myself. Yoga pants, tank top, no bra. I hadn't dressed for anything except wallowing. But underneath the grief and the anger, something else was stirring. Something that felt like hunger. Marcus hadn't touched me in weeks. Maybe months, if I was being honest. The last time we'd had sex, he'd finished in four minutes and rolled over. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt desired — really desired, the way that makes your skin flush and your breath go shallow.

"Tell me more," I said.

Lisa described the place — a private club on the east side, run by a guy named Max. Older, white beard, biker type. Strict rules about cleanliness and consent. The booths were private, well-lit, comfortable. There were holes on three walls. Some men would just want oral. Some would want more. I could stop at any time.

"And after," she said, leaning in with that conspiratorial whisper, "after they've filled you up — every hole, however many times you want — I'm going to clean you with my tongue. Every drop. And I'm going to feed it back to you, mouth to mouth, so you can swallow it all."

The image hit me like a wave of heat. My thighs pressed together involuntarily. "Lisa..."

"I've wanted to taste you for years, Erica. Don't pretend you don't know that."

I did know. There had been moments — drunk hugs that lasted too long, her eyes drifting to my mouth, her hand resting on my thigh at just the pressure to make me wonder. I'd always filed it away as Lisa being Lisa. But now, with my marriage in ashes and my blood buzzing with wine and rage, I didn't want to file anything away. I wanted to feel something.

"Let's go," I said.

The place was exactly what Lisa described. A converted warehouse on a quiet street. Max met us at the door — big guy, gray-streaked white beard, leather vest over a bare chest, arms covered in tattoos. He looked at Lisa with recognition, then looked at me with slow, appreciative eyes.

"New girl?" he asked.

"She's with me," Lisa said. "VIP treatment."

Max nodded. "Booth three is open. Cleanest holes in the house. I'll send the best boys her way." He paused, looking at me again. "You okay, sweetheart? First time?"

"First time," I said.

"You set the pace. Nobody does anything you don't want. You need to stop, you knock twice on the wall and my guys pull them back. Got it?"

Go it." I replied. I was relieved that he didn't seem to remember me from when I spent a few months at his old clubhouse a few years back.

He smiled, and there was something almost kind in it. "You're going to have a good night."

The booth was small but clean — padded walls, a comfortable bench, soft red lighting. Three holes, each about waist height, cut into the walls on three sides. There was a shelf with towels, lube, and bottled water. Lisa set up her phone on a small tripod in the corner, angled to catch everything.

"Arms up," she said.

I raised my arms and she pulled my tank top over my head. My breasts spilled free — full, heavy, nipples already hard from the cool air and the adrenaline. She knelt and tugged my yoga pants down, taking my thong with them. I stepped out of them and stood there completely naked, my blonde hair falling over my shoulders, my body on display for nobody and everybody.

"Jesus Christ," Lisa murmured. "You're perfect."

She handed me a silk robe. "Wear this between rounds. Drop it when you're ready."

I sat on the bench, knees together, heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. The silence lasted about thirty seconds. Then I heard footsteps on the other side of the left wall. A shadow moved across the hole.

The first cock came through.

It was average — maybe five inches, already half hard, clean and circumcised. I stared at it, frozen. Lisa crouched beside me, phone aimed, and whispered in my ear.

"Start with your hands. Get a feel for it."

I reached out and wrapped my fingers around it. The skin was warm and soft, and the moment I touched it, it hardened completely in my grip. I felt a jolt between my legs — a pulse of wet heat. I stroked slowly, feeling the ridge of the head, the vein running underneath.

"Use your mouth," Lisa said. "He's waiting."

I leaned forward and licked the tip. Salt and skin. The cock twitched against my tongue. I opened my mouth and took the head in, swirling my tongue around it, getting used to the weight and the taste. The man on the other side pushed forward slightly, asking for more. I relaxed my jaw and took him deeper, sliding my lips down the shaft until my nose pressed against the wall.

"Oh fuck," a muffled voice said from the other side.

I pulled back, then sank down again, finding a rhythm. My hand cupped his balls, squeezing gently. He was thrusting now, shallow little movements, and I could feel him getting harder, the shaft swelling against my tongue. I sucked harder, cheeks hollowing, and within a minute he groaned and his cock pulsed and hot cum flooded my mouth — thick, salty, spurting against the back of my throat. I swallowed instinctively, milking every drop, and kept sucking until he pulled back through the hole.

I sat back, wiping my mouth, and looked at Lisa. She was grinning.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I want another one."

The second cock was bigger — thick, maybe seven inches, with a slight upward curve. I didn't hesitate this time. I took it in both hands and stroked while I licked the head, teasing the slit with the tip of my tongue. The man groaned immediately. I opened wide and took him as deep as I could, feeling the curve press against the roof of my mouth, then adjusted my angle and let him slide into my throat. My eyes watered but I didn't pull back. I pressed forward until my lips hit the wall, his entire cock buried in my throat, and I swallowed around him.

"Holy shit," Lisa whispered behind the camera.

I fucked my throat on his cock, pulling back for air, then sinking deep again. Saliva dripped from my chin onto my breasts. He lasted longer than the first — maybe three minutes of steady, sloppy deep-throating before he grabbed the edge of the hole and shoved forward and came hard, shooting straight down my throat. I felt each pulse, each warm jet, and I swallowed it all.

Two down. I was breathing hard, lips swollen, spit and cum glistening on my chin. My pussy was soaked — I could feel it on my thighs. The robe was open, hanging off my shoulders, and I didn't bother closing it.

The third cock came through the center hole. Long, straight, thick around. I wrapped my lips around it immediately, but this time I wanted more. I turned around, backed up, and guided the cock between my legs. It slid through my wetness, catching on my entrance, and I pushed back. He filled me in one long stroke, stretching me open, and I gasped at the fullness. Raw. No condom. Just bare skin inside me, the first different cock I'd had in ten years.

"Oh god," I moaned, bracing my hands on the wall.

I fucked myself back on him, slow at first, then faster, feeling every inch slide in and out. The wall shook between us. He thrust to meet me, and the impact made my tits swing. Lisa moved around with the camera, catching my face, my body, the cock disappearing into me from behind.

"Tell me what you want," Lisa said.

"I want him to cum inside me," I said, voice ragged. "I want to feel it."

The man must have heard me because his rhythm changed — harder, faster, more desperate. I pushed back against every thrust, taking him as deep as the wall allowed, and when he finally slammed forward and held, I felt his cock jerking inside me, pumping warm cum deep into my pussy. I clenched around him, milking it, and he groaned and slowly pulled out. I felt his cum immediately start to leak, running down my inner thigh.

Lisa was there instantly, phone in one hand, the other spreading my ass to get a better shot. "Push it out for me."

I bore down and felt the cum drip from my pussy, thick and white, pooling on the bench.

The fourth cock was short but incredibly thick — I could barely get my hand around it. I sucked it eagerly, loving the stretch of my lips, the way it filled my mouth. He came fast, pulling out at the last second and spraying across my face — thick ropes of cum striping my cheeks, my lips, my closed eyes. I kept my mouth open, tongue out, and caught what I could.

"You look incredible," Lisa said, zooming in on my cum-covered face.

I wiped my eyes and licked my fingers clean. "Next."

Five through eight blurred together. A long curved cock that I deep-throated until my throat was raw, swallowing his load with my nose pressed flat against the wall. A thick one that I rode reverse cowgirl through the hole, bouncing until he creampied me so deep I could feel it pooling at my cervix. A smaller one I took in my mouth while another came through the side wall and I stroked it with my free hand until it shot across my tits. A curved beauty that I sucked until it was rigid, then turned and took in my pussy while the man on the other side whispered "you feel so fucking good" through the hole.

My pussy was overflowing. Cum leaked from me constantly, dripping down my thighs, pooling on the bench beneath me. My face was a mess — streaks of cum across my cheeks, in my hair, on my chin. My breasts were slick with it. And I was starving for more.

The ninth cock was enormous. Thick, veined, at least nine inches. It came through the center hole and I just stared at it for a moment.

"Oh my god," I said.

Lisa laughed. "That's one of Max's special recruits."

I took it in both hands, barely able to close my fingers around it, and licked from base to tip. It was too long to deep-throat completely, but I took as much as I could — six inches, seven, my throat stretching around it, tears streaming from my eyes. I pulled back gasping, strings of saliva connecting my lips to the shaft, and decided I needed this one inside me.

I backed onto it slowly. It took three tries to get the head in — I was so wet it kept sliding, but the thickness was almost too much. Finally I felt my pussy open and accept it, and I sank back inch by inch until I had all of it. I'd never felt anything like it. Stuffed. Complete. The head pressed against my cervix and I came immediately, my whole body shaking, pussy clenching and spasming around that massive cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I chanted, trembling.

I rode it through my orgasm and kept going, the cum from the previous men squelching out around it with every thrust. He fucked me through the wall with long, powerful strokes, and I met every one of them. When he came, it felt like a fire hose — pulse after pulse of hot cum flooding my pussy, overflowing immediately, running down both thighs in thick streams.

I collapsed forward against the wall, gasping, that huge cock still twitching inside me. When he finally pulled out, I felt a gush of cum pour from my pussy like a faucet.

Ten and eleven came together through two adjacent holes. I alternated — sucking one while stroking the other, switching back and forth, taking turns deep-throating each until they both came within seconds of each other. One in my mouth, one across my face. I swallowed what I caught and let the rest drip onto my chest.

The twelfth cock came through and I was delirious — cum-drunk, shaking, my pussy raw and overflowing, my throat sore, my face and body absolutely coated. I took it in my mouth and sucked with everything I had left, and when he came I held it in my mouth, letting it pool on my tongue, savoring the taste before swallowing.

Then silence. No more footsteps. No more shadows at the holes.

I sat back on the bench, completely wrecked. Cum was everywhere — on my face, in my hair, on my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. My pussy was a mess, gaping and leaking, thick white cum flowing out of me in a steady stream. I felt like I'd been through a war and come out the other side reborn.

Lisa set the phone down and knelt in front of me.

"My turn," she said.

She started with my face — licking the cum from my cheeks, my chin, my closed eyes, cleaning me with long, slow strokes of her tongue. She kissed me and I opened my mouth, letting her push the collected cum onto my tongue. It was warm and salty and mixed with my own saliva, and I swallowed it all.

She moved down to my breasts, licking and sucking each one clean, gathering cum in her mouth and feeding it to me in deep, messy kisses. Her tongue traced down my stomach, collecting every drop, and she brought it to my lips again.

Then she pushed my knees apart and looked at my ruined pussy. Cum was still leaking out, a thick white pool on the bench beneath me.

"He's going to see this video and realize what he lost," Lisa said, and then she put her mouth on my pussy.

Her tongue slid inside me and I gasped. She licked and sucked, gathering the cum that the men had deposited deep inside me, her tongue probing and curling. I could feel her swallowing some, but she saved most of it — her cheeks were full when she pulled back and pressed her lips to mine.

I opened my mouth and she let it flow. Thick, warm, mixed cum from a dozen strangers poured from her tongue to mine. I swallowed, and she went back for more. Again and again, she cleaned my pussy with her mouth and fed me the results, until I'd swallowed every drop she could reach.

Then she focused on my clit — sucking, licking, circling — while three fingers curled inside me, pressing against the spot that Marcus had never bothered to find. I came so hard I screamed, my pussy clenching around her fingers, pushing out another wave of cum that she caught in her mouth and fed to me one final time.

We sat there afterward, tangled together on the bench, both of us breathing hard. Lisa kissed my forehead.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

I looked at her — my best friend, her face glistening with cum and my juices, her eyes bright with satisfaction. I looked at my own body, marked and used and satisfied in a way I hadn't felt in years. I looked at the phone, still recording, with enough footage to make Marcus's head explode.

"I feel like a fucking goddess," I said.

We got dressed, collected the phone, and walked out past Max, who gave us a nod and a smile. The night air hit my face and I felt clean in a way that had nothing to do with the cum still drying in my hair.

Lisa drove me home. In the car, I composed a text to Marcus: *Working late? So was I. Check your phone in twenty minutes. Then I'll check out of this marriage.*

I attached the video and hit send.

Lisa glanced over at me. "You know he's going to lose his mind."

"Good," I said, watching the streetlights slide past. "He spent ten years making me feel invisible. Tonight, twelve strangers made me feel like the only woman on earth. And you —" I looked at her. "You made me feel like the most important one."

She reached over and took my hand. "I've been trying to tell you that for years."

I squeezed her hand and leaned back in the seat. My phone buzzed — Marcus, already blowing up. I silenced it and dropped it in my cupholder.

"So," I said. "Same time next Friday?"

Lisa laughed. "Max is going to love you."