Chapter 4: The Gloryhole Girls

The front door felt different under my hand. Not heavier, exactly. Just final. Like the last page of a book I'd been forcing myself to finish for years.

I could hear the television before I reached the living room. Marcus was on the couch, phone in his lap, face illuminated by its glow. He looked up when I walked in, and I watched the sequence of emotions cross his face in real time — confusion, then recognition, then something that looked a lot like panic.

"You watched it," I said. Not a question.

"Erica—"

"Don't." I held up my hand. "Don't say my name like that. Don't do the voice. Don't try to manage me."

He stood up. He was still in his work clothes, tie loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked exactly like a man who had been sitting in the dark watching a video of his wife getting fucked by twelve strangers through a gloryhole, and he didn't know what to do about it.

"How could you—" he started.

"How could *I*?" I laughed. Actually laughed. "That's what you're going with? How could I?"

"I didn't — with Rebecca, it was just — it didn't mean anything."

"There it is." I nodded slowly. "It didn't mean anything. So I guess we're even, right? Because what I did tonight didn't mean anything either."

His jaw tightened. "That's different."

"Why? Because you did it behind my back for months and I did it in front of a camera in one night? Because you fucked someone I know, someone who came to our house for dinner, and I fucked people whose faces I never even saw?"

He didn't have an answer for that. He just stood there, mouth slightly open, looking like a man who had just realized that the script he'd been running in his head for the last ten years had been rewritten without his knowledge.

"I'm done, Marcus." I said it plainly, no drama, no tears. "I'm done being invisible. I'm done being the wife who waits. I'm done pretending this marriage is anything other than a habit I should have broken years ago."

"Where will you go?"

I almost smiled at that. Not *please stay*, not *I'll change*, not *let's talk about this*. Just *where will you go*. Always the logistics. Always the surface.

"Somewhere I'm wanted," I said, and turned around and walked out.

The night air hit me for the second time that evening, and this time it really did feel like a new beginning. My bag was already in the car — I'd packed it that morning, knowing somehow that I wouldn't be coming back to this house, to this life, to this man who had made me feel like furniture for a decade.

Lisa's apartment was twenty minutes away. I made it in fifteen.

She opened the door before I knocked, which meant she'd been watching from the window. She was in an oversized t-shirt and nothing else, her dark hair pulled up in a messy bun, a glass of wine already poured and waiting on the counter for me.

"How did it go?"

"He asked where I was going to go," I said, dropping my bag by the door and taking the wine. "Not how to fix it. Not what he could do. Where I was going to go."

Lisa clinked her glass against mine. "To my place. Obviously."

"Obviously."

I took a long drink and sank into her couch. My body was still sore from earlier — my thighs ached, my throat was tender, my pussy felt swollen and sensitive. But I felt alive in a way that had nothing to do with physical sensation. I felt like someone who had finally stopped apologizing for existing.

"So," Lisa said, settling in beside me and tucking her feet under her. "How do you feel?"

"Like I said at the gloryhole. Like a fucking goddess."

"You looked like one too." She grinned. "That video is art. I should win an award."

"You should." I turned to face her. "Which is why it's your turn next Friday."

Her grin faltered. "What?"

"Your turn. The gloryhole. Max. A dozen cocks. All of it."

"Erica—"

"No. Listen." I set my wine down and took her hands. "Last week you told me you'd been trying to tell me I was important for years. You showed me. In every possible way. Now it's my turn to show you."

"I don't know if I can—"

"You can. I watched you that night, Lisa. You were so turned on just from watching me that you came when you went down on me. You were practically vibrating. Imagine what it'll be like when you're the one on the bench."

She swallowed. I could see the wheels turning — the nervousness fighting with the curiosity, the desire winning slowly but surely.

"And I'll be there the whole time," I said. "I'll film everything. And when you're done — when you're covered and filled and wrecked — I'll clean you up the same way you cleaned me up. Every drop."

Her breathing had changed. I could see her nipples pressing against the thin cotton of her t-shirt. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

"Same time next Friday?" she asked quietly.

I squeezed her hands. "Same time next Friday."

---

The week crawled. I moved what was left of my life into Lisa's spare room. Marcus called seventeen times the first day, then four the second, then stopped. His lawyer called on Wednesday. I gave Lisa's apartment as my address and felt another thread snap.

Lisa was nervous all week. She covered it well — she was good at that, better than me — but I caught her pacing at midnight on Thursday, and when I found her in the kitchen at 2 a.m. drinking milk straight from the carton, I just hugged her from behind and said, "You're going to be incredible."

"What if I freeze up?"

"Then I'll be right there. And Max will be right there. And those cocks will be right there. One of them will unfreeze you. Trust me."

She laughed, and I felt the tension leave her shoulders.

Friday came. We got dressed together in her bedroom — me in a black bralette and skirt with nothing underneath, Lisa in a red teddy that barely contained her breasts and made her ass look like a work of art. I did her makeup. She did mine. We looked like trouble, and we were.

Max greeted us at the door with the same nod, but his eyes lingered on Lisa this time. "New girl?"

"My turn," Lisa said, and her voice only shook a little.

Max smiled. "Same room. Same rules. I'll send them through when you're ready."

The booth was exactly as I remembered it — the bench, the walls, the three holes at different heights. The smell of cleaner and something else, something raw and biological. Lisa stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, looking at the holes like they were portals to another dimension.

"Sit," I said, guiding her to the bench. "Just breathe. I'll film everything."

She sat. I pulled out my phone and hit record. The red light blinked, and I aimed it at Lisa's face — her dark eyes wide, her lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

The first shadow appeared at the center hole. Then the cock — long, slim, circumcised, already half hard. It came through slowly, like an offering.

Lisa stared at it.

"Whenever you're ready," I said softly.

She reached out and wrapped her hand around it. The cock twitched in her grip, and Lisa made a sound — a small, involuntary gasp that sent a jolt through my own body. She leaned forward and licked the tip, just once, testing. Then again. Then she opened her mouth and took the head inside.

I watched my best friend suck her first gloryhole cock, and it was beautiful. She was tentative at first — slow, careful strokes, one hand on the shaft while her mouth worked the tip. But I could see the moment it clicked for her. The moment her body took over and the nervousness became fuel instead of resistance. She sank deeper, taking more of him, her head bobbing with increasing confidence. Saliva dripped from her chin and she didn't wipe it away. Her free hand dropped to her own thigh, fingers pressing against the fabric of the teddy, rubbing herself through the thin material.

"That's it," I murmured, zooming in on her lips stretched around the shaft. "Take it deeper."

She did. She pushed forward until her nose touched the wall, the entire cock down her throat, and she held there for three full seconds before pulling back gasping. Strings of spit connected her mouth to the shaft. She looked at me with wild eyes.

"More," she said. "I want more."

She went back to work, fucking her own throat on his cock, and when he came — suddenly, with no warning — she gagged and pulled back just enough for the first pulse to shoot across her tongue. She kept her mouth on him, swallowing what she could, but it overflowed. Cum leaked from the corners of her lips, ran down her chin, dripped onto the red teddy. She milked him with her hand until he was empty, then pulled off and looked directly at the camera with cum on her face and fire in her eyes.

"Next," she said.

The second cock was thick and short, and Lisa rode it through the wall like she was born for this. She hiked the teddy up to her waist, spread her knees on the bench, and backed onto it with one smooth motion. I filmed from below, catching the way her pussy lips stretched around the girth, the way her ass jiggled with every impact. She reached between her legs and rubbed her clit while she rode, and she came before he did — a sharp, shaking orgasm that made her bite down on her own fist to keep from screaming.

When he finished inside her, she stayed pressed against the wall for a long moment, breathing hard. Then she pulled off and turned to me, and I could see the cum already leaking from her, running down her inner thigh in a thick white line.

"How do you feel?" I asked, echoing her question from last week.

"Like I should have been doing this years ago," she said, and grinned.

The third cock came through the side hole and Lisa took it in her mouth while I watched, filming, my own pussy getting wetter by the minute. She had natural rhythm — she knew when to speed up, when to slow down, when to use her hand, when to let her throat do the work. The man came hard, pulling out at the last second and shooting across her face — a thick rope of cum from her chin to her forehead, followed by two more across her cheeks. Lisa laughed, actually laughed, and stuck her tongue out for the final pulse, catching it on her tongue and swallowing with a theatrical gulp.

"You're a natural," I said.

"I had a good teacher," she replied, and the fourth cock came through.

This one was long and curved upward, and Lisa decided to take it in her pussy. She faced the wall this time, bent over the bench, and I watched the curved shaft slide into her from behind. The angle made her gasp — the curve pressed against her front wall with every thrust, and within thirty seconds she was shaking.

"Oh god, right there, right there, RIGHT THERE—"

She came so hard her legs buckled. I grabbed her hips to steady her and the man on the other side kept fucking, kept slamming that curved cock into her while she trembled and whimpered. When he came, he buried himself deep and held, and I watched Lisa's eyes go wide as she felt the cum pumping into her.

"Oh fuck," she whispered. "I can feel it. I can feel him cumming inside me."

He pulled out and a wave of cum followed, thick and white, pouring from her pussy onto the bench. I got it all on camera.

Cocks five through eight blurred together the way they had for me. A thick one she could barely fit in her mouth that came across her tits. A long one she deep-throated until tears ran down her cheeks, swallowing every drop. Two that came through adjacent holes — she stroked one while sucking the other, switching back and forth with growing confidence until they both came, one in her mouth and one across her back while she was bent over. A curved one she rode reverse cowgirl, and I filmed her ass bouncing against the wall, her asshole winking with every thrust, cum from the previous men squelching out around the shaft.

By the ninth cock, Lisa was a mess. Cum on her face, in her hair, on the red teddy which was now transparent with sweat and cum and spit. Her pussy was leaking constantly, thick white fluid running down both thighs. And she was insatiable.

The ninth was big — not as enormous as my ninth had been, but thick and veined and impressive. Lisa took one look at it and said, "That one's going in my ass."

I almost dropped the phone. "Lisa—"

"I've been practicing," she said, and winked at me.

She pulled a small bottle of lube from somewhere — she'd tucked it into the teddy, the sneaky genius — and coated the shaft liberally. Then she positioned herself, pressing her asshole against the tip, and slowly, inch by inch, took it inside.

The sound she made was unlike anything I'd heard from her before. Not pain, not quite pleasure — something in between that was both and neither. A raw, animal sound that made my own pussy clench. She worked herself back onto it, pausing to adjust, breathing deeply, until she had most of it inside her ass.

"Film this," she said through gritted teeth. "I want to see it later."

I got close — phone inches from the action — and watched her asshole stretch around that thick cock. She started moving, fucking herself on it through the wall, and after a minute she reached down and started rubbing her clit in fast circles.

She came with a scream that echoed in the small room, her whole body convulsing, her asshole clenching around the cock so hard that the man on the other side groaned through the wall. He came seconds later, pumping cum into her ass, and when he pulled out, cum gushed from her gaping asshole, running down over her pussy and dripping onto the bench.

"Holy shit," I said.

Lisa looked over her shoulder at me, face flushed, eyes glazed. "Holy shit," she agreed.

The tenth, eleventh, and twelfth came quickly. Lisa took them all — one in her pussy, two in her mouth, swallowing one and taking the other across her face. By the time the twelfth pulled out, she was completely wrecked. Cum everywhere — face, hair, tits, stomach, thighs, pussy, ass. The red teddy was ruined. She looked like she'd been through exactly what I'd been through a week ago, and she looked transcendent.

Then silence.

Lisa sat back on the bench, legs spread, head back against the wall, breathing hard. Cum was leaking from both her pussy and her ass, pooling on the bench beneath her. Her face was covered — thick streaks across her cheeks, in her hair, on her chin, one eyelid stuck half-closed with a glob of cum.

"My turn," I said.

I set the phone down on the bench, propped against the wall, still recording. Then I knelt in front of Lisa and started with her face.

I licked the cum from her left cheek first — long, slow strokes, gathering it on my tongue. Then the right. Then her chin, her forehead, the cum stuck to her eyelid. She opened her eyes and looked at me, and I pressed my mouth to hers. She opened immediately, and I pushed the collected cum onto her tongue. It was warm and salty, mixed with the faint taste of her skin, and she swallowed it with a soft moan.

I moved down to her breasts, pulling the soaked teddy down to expose them. I licked and sucked each one clean — cum pooled in the valley between them, and I gathered it carefully and brought it to her lips. She took it, swallowed, and kissed me deep, her tongue pushing into my mouth, searching for more.

I worked down her stomach, licking the cum from her skin, collecting every drop. The teddy was ruined, so I pulled it off entirely and tossed it aside. Lisa sat naked on the bench, legs spread, cum leaking from both holes, and I knelt between her thighs.

"His is going to see this video," I said, mirroring her words from last week, "and realize he never deserved you."

Then I put my mouth on her pussy.

The taste was overwhelming — cum and her own juices mixed together, warm and thick and abundant. I pushed my tongue inside her and felt the cum flow onto it, a steady stream from deep inside. I licked and sucked, probing with my tongue, curling it to reach the deposits the men had left at her depths. Lisa gasped and grabbed my head, pulling me closer.

I pulled back with my mouth full and pressed my lips to hers. She opened wide and I let the cum flow — thick, warm, mixed cum from a dozen strangers pouring from my tongue to hers. She swallowed and moaned, and I went back for more.

Again and again, I cleaned her pussy with my mouth and fed her the results. Each time, the kiss got messier — cum on our lips, our chins, our cheeks. Lisa was trembling, her thighs squeezing my head, her fingers in my hair.

Then I found her clit. I sucked it into my mouth and pushed three fingers inside her, curling them against her front wall. She was so wet that my fingers slid in effortlessly, and I fucked her with them while I worked her clit with my tongue.

She came hard — harder than I'd seen her come before. Her pussy clamped around my fingers and a fresh wave of cum pushed out, which I caught in my mouth. I pulled my fingers out and pressed my lips to her pussy, sucking gently, gathering every last drop.

Then I moved up and kissed her one final time, pushing all of it into her mouth — the cum from her pussy, the taste of her orgasm, everything. She swallowed and kept kissing me, her hands on my face, her breathing ragged.

We sat there tangled together on the bench, both of us sticky and satisfied, the phone still blinking its red light in the corner.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

Lisa looked at me — her best friend, her face glistening with cum and her own juices, her eyes bright with the same satisfaction I'd felt a week ago.

"Like a fucking goddess," she said.

We laughed, and I held her, and the phone recorded all of it.

Getting dressed was a production. Lisa's teddy was unsalvageable, so she wore my skirt with nothing underneath and I went bottomless in my jeans. We looked like exactly what we were — two women who had spent the evening being worshipped in a booth at the back of a biker bar.

Max nodded as we passed. "Same time next Friday?"

Lisa and I looked at each other.

"We might need a bigger room," I said.

Max's beard split into a grin. "I'll see what I can do."

The night air hit us and Lisa took a deep breath. "I need to ask you something."

"Anything."

"Next week — when it's my turn again — can we both go at the same time? Side by side?"

I looked at her. "You mean—"

"I mean I had the best night of my life in there, but the whole time I was thinking about how much better it would be if you were next to me. If I could hear you, see you, touch you while it's happening."

My pussy, still sensitive, throbbed at the thought. "Lisa, are you asking me to share a gloryhole booth with you?"

"I'm asking you to share everything with you."

I took her hand. "Same time next Friday. Side by side. And Max is going to need a lot more than twelve cocks."

Lisa squeezed my hand and smiled. "He's going to need a waiting list."

We drove home with the windows down, the night air cold on our faces, the taste of a dozen strangers still on our tongues, and the certain knowledge that next Friday was only seven days away.