You blink.
You blink again.
You twitch, spasming upright.
You grab your head. It feels heavy. Slow. It’s hurting? But the pain is too distant. Too unimportant. Too - you just laugh!
You look down through smiling, half-shut eyes at your sweat-drenched body, every muscle tensed visible, every one feeling weak and tired and radiating a lazy joy. You’re still not supporting your own weight, slumped helpless back, held upright at the point where your cock disappears into the wall and a warm, singing feeling of impossible joy that fills you with total and utter satisfaction. A small thought shouts in the distance of your slowed mind, telling you to get ready for the next start! For a moment you worry but - no. Your cock, your unseen head feels so… incomplete.
The mouth, it isn’t holding you anymore. It feels somehow wrong without it, free but… but it felt so.... You laugh again, giddy as remembered pleasure shivers throughout your body. Your hands grab your own breasts with a giddy moan, careful not to touch your aching nipples, just firmly grasping the pleasure into your breasts, pressing it down, down your tensed stomach, all the way down until you’re carefully holding the singing base of your shaft, not daring to touch it, just wanting to hold it.
So that just happened! And now - now the tongue is gone. The lips are gone. Only the chord is holding your hard shaft. You’re still hard shaft!
HOW?!
Questions start to surface through the joy. How are you still hard? After that many, how many? You try to count and have to stop as the shivering aftershocks get too much. But after that many orgasms, how are you still hard?! Why isn’t it hurting? It is hurting, you think, maybe, you have to concentrate but you can dimly feel a soreness in your shaft, the shadow of an ache in your balls. But how did you even cum that much? And how are you STILL HARD?!
As you carefully focus on your cock, you realize with a strange kind of relief that you’re only just hard, your impossible erection only barely still there. So finally then - it’s finally realized it can’t make you cum anymore! You can’t have any more orgasms, you literally can’t!
“HA!” you thump the wall, still giddy and now enjoying the fact that the impotent creature is finally finished. It can’t do anything with your steadily waning cock, can’t make you cum when you have no cum left! Can’t do anything at all!!
And that’s when you feel it a second time - the nozzle of tauter, wetter flesh, touching your flagging tip. What, “NO!” It clenches against your opening and you feel a new jet of liquid spray straight down inside you.
Continue
You couldn’t thrust if you wanted to, and fuck you want to, your hips grinding uselessly against the wall as the lips thrust your head within them and the tongue thrusts up and down the underside of your shaft, its tip reaching all the way to your balls, licking them just where they touch your shaft and it all feels so fucking good! And then the cord starts stroking your shaft and its all over. You didn’t feel an orgasm building but you’re already having it, crying up at the ceiling, pleasure blasting down your shaft, aching and squeezing up from your balls as each burst is forced straight out of you. You’re not screaming, not speaking, don’t even know what you’re doing as you just stare open mouthed at the ceiling and try to survive.
You keep waiting for it to stop, to stop, feeling, so - it stops and leaves you breathless against the wall. But it doesn’t stop, the fading bliss flowing straight into the unbearable pleasure as the thrusting lips and tongue and chord all keep going, not stopping at all!
You stare down your arched chest, over your shaking breasts to where your spasming hips are locked against the wall. “Please!” you cry, “Please just let me rest, let me, just -” it isn’t getting it, and you can no longer speak through gritted teeth as you just try to endure the unbearable. And through it all, a sudden warmth, a goodness flowing down and around you - its the tongue, not just licking your balls but coiling round them. You cry out louder as the feelings in your cock somehow multiplies, the tongue around your balls feeling so warm and wet it tingles with an almost cold joy that shoots straight up into your cock, making everything stronger, everything better. You love it. You hate it. You scream again as the tongue’s tip flows down just under your balls and presses up straight into a spot that lifts your whole body up to heaven.
You’re standing on the balls of your feet, and are nearly lifted straight off them as it presses there again, the impossible feelings in your cock shooting up from that pressed point into your whole body. It presses again and you scream in joy. You swear your cumming, your cock exploding in pleasure, the next press shooting it up to your eyes, each and every press lifting you up and making your cry out as you thrust up into the wall. You’re not holding onto the wall, not even trying to hold yourself up, nothing matters but thrusting up, up, up with every press, you hips flagging until your hands grab your own rear and thrust you forward harder and faster, nothing matters but keeping going, keeping going, keeping… OH G-GODS!
Your hands clench tightly, then fly apart, your whole breath screamed out in one moment as your whole body seems to explode out of your cock over and over, the tongue pressing straight up and sending the next explosion all the way up and out of your screaming mouth. You whole body sings and cries, white hot bliss filling everything in waves the leave your soul exploding out of your chest over and over and....
Your unseen head strikes the waiting lips and sinks straight back inside. You cry out, not a scream but a short burst of sound. You’re shaking, trying to still yourself, to breathe, and it starts licking your head again, sending that same unbearable pleasure shooting up your shaft and into your body, which panics again. Your hips thrust back, and you feel yourself pulled out of the clinging lips, which have no sooner popped free of your tensing head than the cord pulls you straight back in and your head thrusts inside again. And the tongue is waiting to lap up every bit of your shaking head.
This time your cry comes through gritted teeth as your hips flinch back, the frantic sound repeated a second later, and the second after that, and after that, each and every time your body recoils and is pulled straight back again, every time your head is sucked free then thrust back into a waiting frenzy of unbearable sensation. You can’t take it, can’t breathe, can’t, Gods the lips feel good, though! The moment they slide sharply off you, their liquid hold sinking to a point then popping free of your tip, and the moment they part as your plunged back in again, two moments amidst the torment of that madly licking tongue you just can't take! You close your eyes, focus desperately on those lips, thrust into them.
By the time your gritted teeth break into a sharp moan you’re thrusting all by yourself, the cord barely needing to pull as your hips ride back and forth through the tempest that’s just burst into a heart-lifting bliss! It feels so good, so damn good! You can barely feel them anymore, the moments when you leave and enter the lips, just feeling the ring of rising pleasure around the ridge of your head, drawing you into the swirling vortex working your head, both seeming connected to something deep inside your own body, drawing on an emptiness within you that’s quickly filling with an imminent need you’ve never known and all you can do is keep thrusting into it! Is this, what it, feels like, to “NAAAH!” you cry out as the tongue shoots down the underside of your shaft. You feel a smart where its tip struck your balls, but that isn’t what made you cry - it’s the sensation of your underside hugged by the tongue, riding the tongue, a line of liquid pleasure that sings and builds under you with each thrust forward, nowhere clearer than the last few inches of your underside which seem to be sucking all that bliss straight out of your body and into your - you cum! You don’t expect it, can’t control it, and before you’re anywhere near prepared you’re bucking and thrusting up into the hole, spasming into every burst of pleasure, the first few sharp but quickly getting longer and sweeter, your thrusts slowing as they draw out each beautiful, each, and, ev-ery...
Your head falls against the wall with a solid clunk. “Ah!” you cry, and immediately begin to laugh, the pain in your head so unimportant, so immediately forgotten as you just laugh. Quickly the movement becomes too much, your laughter shaking your oversensitive cock within the now too clear embrace of those lips, and you force yourself to stop, force your joy down, slow the spasming into gentle, slow... your lips are cooing and smiling as you hips draw out one last, slow, thrust down the tingling tongue, the end of which makes you gasp as you gently slide into the lips again, and stay smiling inside.
Gods yeah! Gods damn that wa-AAA! The tongue whips up the length of your shaft, coiling inside the lips as they clench around the base of your head, sealing you in again. The realization has only just struck when it all starts again - the tongue swirling its frenzy into your trapped head, your body fighting it, pulling back! But this time you’re not moving, your hips aren’t moving!! You fight twice as hard, pull thrice as hard, but your tired hips aren’t moving, leaving you thrashing ineffectually as your cock stays stuck right into that swirling torrent of unbearable bliss.
You’re fighting, your fists crashing against the tiles, you’re cursing and swearing and growling and your knees and arms and hips are all pulling as hard as they can! And there’s nothing you can do, not an inch of give as the tongue keeps swirling around and around your spasming head. Your eyes and mouth are gritted shut, each breath forced hissing through your teeth as your whole body rises and falls into each frantic breath. Why is it doing this, why –
“O!” Your mouth cries open as your body suddenly cringes inwards, folding down against the tiles, as behind the solid wall you feel the lips suck over the ridge of your head, then thrust forth, two moments of joy in the frenzy, then four moments as it does it again, then six, eight, twelve, the ring of flesh sliding back and forth over your ridge faster and faster! Did it learn! Did you teach it! GODS it feels even BETTER when you can't control it!
Your hips stay stuck shaking against the wall, your cock trapped inside as tongue and lips mercilessly work every oversensitive nerve of your head, the pleasure so much more that you can take, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it! But already you can feel it, the unbearable sensations starting to curdle, a pleasure building behind them, in them, through them. You breath through your teeth, hang onto that coming feeling of goodness, focus on that, want that, and a few seconds later your head flings back as the tongue shoots down your underside again.
There's a long moment of stillness, just the warmth and the connection and the realisation that you're being held. Your body is shaking, and you realize your whole body is clenched still, holding onto your breath and your mind, unable to bring yourself to move.
It moves for you. Something clearer flicks your slit and you yelp, pulling back reflexively. Its lips stretch taut, refusing to let you go. The tendril tightens around your shaft.
You're tugged forward more deeply into that suffocating, delicious heat, your hips shaking against the tiled wall, clenching on the edge of another orgasm! The lips slowly pull back, locking at the base of your head again, sealing wetly. The other part - a thin tongue? - presses much more carefully against your tip, licks you gently this time, the tingling of the nerves drawn out in time with a long, low breath from you.
You feel your teeth resting against the wall, realize your mouth is wide open. It continues to lick, starting this time by tracing up the ridge of skin running the underside of your head, its tongue smooth you can hardly feel it until it flicks over your tip and makes your hips shake again.
You've used your hands for this many times before, but this is so much smoother than your fingertips. And the way it feels, around and over and almost in you. Like… hot chocolate? You breath out a laugh, but nod to yourself - yes, like Dutch hot chocolate, almost literally melted chocolate, so sweet, vaguely bitter but in a very good way, each long sip becoming a velvet warmth inside, spreading from your full smile all the way to your deepest core, radiating with a blissful satisfaction that invigorates and relaxes your very soul. And then, as now, you begin to relax.
The tongue slides over you, and you groan and shiver aloud as it tools over the taut skin atop of your glans, again and again, around and around. The lips pull tighter, the tongue continuing to swirl across skin almost too sensitive to take it. You find yourself panting against the cold tiles, eyes shut as you try to remember how to breathe, almost eager to forget.
Then something changes. There's a pull, a tightness, and you realise it's sucking on you, drawing you closer and further in without actually moving you. Gods, it makes you want to thrust, like you need to fill the emptiness it's drawing you into, the negative pressure ahead tugging on your tip and the ridge of your head and much deeper inside. The tongue swirls slower, clearer, back and forth, and at your base the tendril begins to stroke you again.
Your fingertips scrabble at the wall. Lips, tongue and tendril all move together, hot and pulling at you, massaging firmly up your shaft and sucking over the bare skin of your head. Your legs tremble in the beginning of another orgasm that keeps on getting larger and hotter. The suction increases, pulling the pressure forward until you can feel it building in the head of your cock, threatening to break every moment the lips pull you deeper and the tendril squeezes faster, encircling and holding you completely as your hips buck instinctually, your head dropping back, breathing out once, twice… stars fill your vision. You cum again, and the sensation floods through you, flowing out of you in blissful waves that pull at your whole body at once, focussing everything into that point of wonderful warmth that holds you safe as your vision goes white.
You’re slumped against the wall. You feel your cock pulse feebly, still cradled by whatever it is in the wall. The tongue laps once across your tip and you shudder weakly, although you can barely feel it. Your throat hurts. Did you scream? You can't remember. Well you can’t remember if you screamed, but the rest...
The lips grip you harder, tongue sliding over your head again.
A bolt of panic thrusts your hips backwards. Your left tensing half a foot from the wall, your member nearly out, nearly all visible, and far away from whatever you just felt, your hips straining to pull you further still. Your eyes are wide, your every muscle tensed, ready to fight, reacting as if you’d just been stung, or - what just happened?! Two memories rocket forth and in an instant you see them both crash together before your mind’s eye. The first is the colour green, the green of spring grass mowed the same length and criss-crossed with lines of painted white. The school oval, every detail of the ancient memory frozen in your mind by the heart-stopping strength of the sensation defining the memory, as, in punishment for being caught in a game of tickle-tag, the other child is tickling you.
His nose healed eventually, and no-one had ever tickled you again. The second memory is here, right here, a few days ago when you’d tried to keep stroking yourself while you came. It had taken so much effort to force your hand to keep going, your teeth gritted as you rode through the pleasure of nerves so sensitive it turned every touch into a shivering spasm of sensation, so close to pain but still feeling somehow good, better the longer you rode through it and into the bliss you were fighting for, so much sweeter for the effort.
You blink, and both memories linger in your view, green grass and white tiles, thrashing nerves and gritted pleasure. The closest your life could come to understanding what just happened, and what’s about to happen again, as the red cord tugs you straight back into the hole.
It feels nothing like you imagined it would. Many times you’d wondered what lips would feel like, but you'd imagined it based on feeling your own lips, on feel your lips' as their every nerve felt the comparatively rougher skin of your fingers. But now, now you can't even believe what you were feeling! It was like you’d been watching a film in black and white for so long that your brain was seeing the colours that should be there, and then all at once the film switched to true colour and suddenly you were experiencing it with an impossible vividness, everything saturated beyond reality! That’s what it feels like, when lips touched your cock for the very first time, so smooth, so soft they felt inconstant, like liquid made flesh, so wet they were almost cold yet so very warm where they parted, the warm wetness enveloping your skin more as, very slowly, the lips started to ease open. You gasp in disbelief of so many things. It felt nothing like you imagined it would, it could - and you'd never imagined it would happen like this!
Oh how you’d dreamed of this - not this but - but - you’d wanted it so badly! So many times you'd thought it may happen, would finally happen, only to have a promising conversation of suggestive tones and exciting looks all abruptly cut off with you fleeing, desperate to not have to explain an unexplainable bulge.
You’d never stopped wanting it. And now - now? Your first kiss. Your first blowjob! Two firsts you’d wanted so much you could taste it, both about to be taken. Both about to be given. Both about to be consumed by a, a - a thing in a wall!
You remember those last two, three, however many orgasms, still felt so vividly your hips start to shake with the thought, you stare ahead in dread and desire, both so strong you can barely breathe. And all you can do is wait, and feel - and there is so much to feel, as the lips slowly part, and you start to flow inside.
A shock of heat envelops you. Your forehead presses into the wall as you breathe out a high-pitched uuuuh! Velvet contact and wet friction moves over your skin as you struggle just to breathe. Some conscious part of you realizes that the wet lips seem to be exploring you, agonisingly smooth against your tip, pulsing against the ridge of your head as they first touch it, then flow over all of you, tightening around the base of your head, with you fully inside.
Instantly your whole body is tensed and fighting, half pushing against the wall, half holding it for dear life! Its touching you nothing like before, not a slow kneading that may be pleasurable, but a frantic stroking up and down your slick shaft, pumping hard and fast and most definitely good! You clenching your teeth so hard it hurts, your fingers trying to dig into the wall, your mind just trying to comprehend what you’re feeling! You've never felt anything like this before, pleasure so intense you don’t know if it's pain, if it's real? Yet your hips are thrusting into it, grinding against the wall, moving with a rhythm you feel stronger with each short, frantic thrust into the building pleasure and pressure in your abdomen, getting closer to the surface, closer to - AGAIN?!
You stop breathing, then explode against the wall, your whole body thrusting against it as all the air and sound leaves you at once and you cum again! This time you can hear yourself, and you’re screaming, shouting, broken bursts of sound as you thrust into each burst of sudden pleasure! It keeps going, keeps going, keeps going, and you think and pray its going to stop only to feel it build and break and explode all over again as another orgasm takes over and leaves you thrusting and screaming into the wall.
You’re not sure when it stops. You’re not sure if you’re even you, if you’re really the one hanging here against the wall, not even seeing what’s in front of you, not hearing what’s around you, barely even feeling your own body struggling to breathe and your limbs straining just to keep you standing. You’re just - what the - how the - WHAT the....
You can’t even think. All you can do is breathe, just breathe, knowing that somehow, you survived it. Somehow, you got through it. It’s over. But before you can smile, you feel it - what you imagined so vividly, what you wanted so badly, what you would have given anything to really, truly, feel. Deep within the wall, you feel a pair of soft, wet lips press themselves against your tip.
The pain from before had greatly lessened your erection, but as the former fades the latter returns to your disbelief.
Your eyes fly open, thoughts of teeth flooding back. No, you frantically reassure yourself, whatever you can suddenly feel touching the tip of your cock is flesh. With so many nerves singing in fear and and returning need, you can all too clearly feel what’s pressed against your very tip, and for the sake of your sanity you focus on feeling it, feeling that it’s flesh, yes, firmer flesh than the tendril but still flesh, just much firmer, and much wetter, getting wetter still. Without warning it seems to clench, press deliberately against your opening, then spray a sharp jet of liquid straight inside of you. You cry out more in shock than pain, no longer feeling whatever was touching your tip but very clearly feeling the liquid it sprayed deep inside you, its presence felt all the way down the inside of your shaft and beyond, inside your body, even in your balls! Are you feeling it right? It feels - warm - very warm, growing warmer, never breaking into hot but still burning with an almost electric charge that builds to overwhelming and keep going even faster! Your eyes fly open as you realize what’s coming just as it happens.
You've had many orgasms in your life, many and more than most, and even so you've never felt anything like this! You thought you were the expert on your own body, what it can take and how much it can feel! Yet all your experience counts for naught as, without warning, stimulation, nor the ability to even believe it, you cum, harder than you ever thought possible!
A pressure you didn't see coming bursts out of you over and over, sending waves of intense pleasure building and crashing throughout your shaking body as each muscles tenses into another peak of impossible bliss. It keeps going, reaching higher, getting stronger, until all at once it breaks and your whole body slumps against the wall, and you find yourself trying to remember how to breathe.
Time stretches out as the unbearable heights of pleasure subside, blessedly quickly at first, then slower, lingering, occasional peaks sending overwhelming shivers throughout your body as it hangs limply propped against the wall, shaking, breathing. And though there’s only the white wall in front of you, your eyes are wide open. What the FUCK was thaAAAA - the tendril starts stroking your shaft.
Instinct moves faster than thought, and before you realize it your body has thrust itself backwards to safety, recoiling with such violence its left you teetering on the edge of falling. You hover there, caught on the cusp of overbalancing, but realize the expected fall hasn't come. You feel pain, look down to see something impossible.
You've left the hole and part of it… is still attached to you? Towards one side of the hole a thin strip of darkness extends outwards, the solid black changing when it hits the light, morphing into a shock of pure red. A red… cord, less than a centimeter across, glossy smooth in the light, painful where it spirals round your shaft by which is holds you from falling. You want to stop it, step forwards and stand upright, and its in spite of the pain that you stay there staring in open-mouthed disbelief at the impossibleness before you! Until the red cord clenches, and yanks you forwards.
Your hands take the brunt of the blow, but it still hurts as you body smacks upright into the wall. You don’t know if you've been winded or if you’re just having a heart attack, as your bare chest heaves against the painfully solid tiles and your heart thumps in your ears, all while you stare wide-eyed at the white before you, waiting for any of it to make sense! Something touched - something HAS - you flinch backwards and are instantly pulled straight back against the wall, the pain in your cock making you afraid to try again. It hurts, has it hurt you, what is IT! But staying perfectly still doesn't make it hurt any more, and, and your body takes this as a sign that you’re not, that you’re NOT being eaten, just, just manhandled, and only if you move again. So, so you stay perfectly, perfectly still, try to breathe, just breathe and try to understand what the fuck is happening?!
You’re standing against the tile wall. You cock is inside the wall. Something is holding you cock. Something inside the wall is holding you cock. Something - you stop telling yourself it’s impossible and try to think what to do about it! The pain is subsiding a bit now, and you can feel that most of the pain came from being supported and pulled by only your groin, the cord - the tendril, that has spiralled itself around your shaft is still holding you, firmly, not painfully now, just.... Despite yourself your body flinches back once more, and instantly the tendril yanks you forwards again, holding you again with a firmness on the very edge of pain as echoing within the wall you hear a familiar, angry screech! The sound from before, it wasn't the pipes, but something... alive? Yes alive, you've covered that it’s alive, and it has your cock, and oh gods what the fuck!?
You force you breathing to slow down. Deeeep breaths. Deep. Slow. Now, calmly, think. It isn't doing anything, isn't… stop imagining teeth and focus on what you know! It’s still holding you, but - it’s lessening its grip again, keeping it firm but, not painful, as if it doesn't want to hurt you. It’s even - wait what?
The last few inches of tendril stay looped around the base-end of your shaft, but the rest of it has starting to... move, slowly, delicately. With a much more pleasant kind of firmness the loops move against your shaft, kneading the sore muscles and tissue, helping the pain and your terror start to subside. Now you dare to you can feel the tendril now, warm against your skin, and as the pain continues to dissipate you start to realize how very soft it is, moving against you, how wet and smooth, making your skin wetter by the second as the loops knead the pain away, glide over your skin, moving itself back and forth. And with a jarring shock you feel yourself getting harder again!
The water sprays to life, striking the tiles before your feet with a hiss that steams hot in seconds, putting your shower at home to shame. Your shower at home also doesn't have such a nice, neat, white wire-shelf hanging below the nozzle, one you’d brought in especially and arrayed with choices of body lotions, moisturisers, massage oils, lubricant. The fact that this criminally obvious selection is still here is your daily proof that no-one ever comes in here but you. Except - you stare back at the strange black hole. Why?
It's weird now you came to look at it with eyes unclouded by panic, really look at it. The hole is perfectly round, a smooth window of black centering four, uncracked and unchipped tiles. You’d expect to see the tile-edges around the inside edge of the hole, a manmade strata of porcelain, grout, and wall, but all you can see is an amorphous dark that seems to stare back at you, waiting.
The steaming is starting to fill the cubicle. You move to turn the boiling water down, stop, and instead lower the shower nozzle so it sprays against the wall, letting the steam continue to fill the space and keep you warm. This is the time when you’d usually be making yourself… excited, selecting a lotion or oil with which to deliberately enjoy the shower as much as the actresses in shampoo commercials always seem to do. But between the adrenaline and then relief from before you’re already very excited, your heart still racing, breath deep and adamant. You’re even more than a little hard, as you stare at the hole, and imagine.
Now you've proven to yourself there's no real danger, it feels safe to imagine a little. In the past you’d imagined many things – someone walking in to hear you, find you, someone peeping through a window, someone behind you watching every move with wanton attention. Last time you’d even propped the cubicle door open so you could see yourself the whole time, staring into your own reflected eyes as you tried to stay upright against the wall – where the hole now is, still watching you. And good as they all were, none of those fantasies ever got your heart racing half as much as just remembering the last few minutes, now made exciting from a vantage of safety. Tapping a little into that previous fear, turning it into thrill, you imagine someone, an eye, watching from the hole.
You imagine them seeing your nude form, not all of you, just your thighs to the underside of your chest, the view cutting off tantalizingly close to your nipples. You imagine the watcher straining to see higher, only able to see the separate pale swells of the undersides of your breasts, the skin glistening in the steaming air, the smooth shapes moving slightly inwards as your fingers rise beside them, then flattened as your palms push back down into a breathy moan, coming into view as your back curves only to be obscured by your hands pressing into the soft skin. You imagine the watcher holding their breath as your hands unclasp, palms and straightened fingers drawn over the hidden nipples until only the fingertips remain to hide them, revealing the first hints of pink, as they rise back up out of view. A moment of disappointment, only to turn to thrill as the hands descend back into view, sliding easily down the glistening skin of a toned stomach, the fingertips tense with anticipation as they glide lower.
You can almost feel the desperate gaze on your body, descending with your fingertips down your chest, past your navel, inwards down the fall of your hips, closer, closer.
The first fingertips to touch your base feel almost electric. Gods you’re hard! You’re not sure if you’ve even been this hard without a cock-ring, your taut skin overwhelmingly sensitive. You bite your lip as you vividly imagine what that first, full touch will feel like in this state, how knee-weakeningly amazing it will feel when your lubed hand first meets your bare head, already tensing with the thought, straining to get harder still. You wonder if that’s even possible. You stare at the watching hole.
You imagine the watcher on the other side, no longer an eye but a finger beckoning, a lush pair of lips smiling, waiting, right there, unseen, unfelt. You know it’s impossible – you took care to prove it so – and within the safety of that knowledge you’re free to play out the fantasy and see just how far you can strain your cock before it, or you, break.
And so, anticipating that first electric touch, that first physical taste of the waiting lips, you step towards the watching hole.
Many things should worry you. The fact that the hole is the right height, the perfect height, waiting directly before your steadily advancing hips. The fact that it’s the perfect size, invitingly open with just enough room to accommodate you without fear of touching the sides, as if it were made for your tensing shaft. The way the darkness just inside the hole seems to envelop the questing tip of your cock in an almost physical way, resisting you ever so slightly and feeling warmer and wetter than the steaming air, all as if you were touching the entrance of something solid, something alive.
All these things should worry you, and in a calmer sense of mind they would. But aroused as you are, your mind gliding on the mix of reality and fantasy, your eyes half seeing and your skin half feeling every vividly imagined sensation – so that everything that should be a warning just becomes part of the fantasy, And fantasizing about an eager watcher and waiting lips, you steadily enter the hole.
The warmth inside grows with every millimeter, but still you shake as much with apprehension as anticipation. You know nothing will happen, but you can imagine something happening, every moment being the last moment before that first touch, that first lick, that first kiss opening to so much more. A small part of your mind keeps you anchored to reality, keeping your course slow and straight, constantly fearful of touching a sharp side or end, keeping every nerve constantly peaked, constantly waiting. Another part of your brain keeps telling you how stupid this is, how dangerous, how wrong, and that only fuels the excitement as you focus on not tensing, not moving, as you ease yourself ever further into the warm hole.
It just keeps going – you’re buried in almost to the base and still no end – how deep is it? You think you have an answer, as with a shock of sensation your very tip ever so lightly touches something – the solid end of the hole, not lips, just an anticlimactic end. But when you frown it's not with disappointment, but sudden confusion. Instead of sharp, gritty stone, the half-felt end feels... warm? Wet maybe? You’re imagining it, you want there to be lips there, want it so badly that you’re imagining feeling them there, insists your rational brain as it tells your hips to carefully pull back out so you can finish yourself and return to work. But your hips won’t move, frozen on the careful edge of caution and physical curiosity. Very, very carefully, you press another millimeter forward, feel the warm, wet end yield slightly, soft like flesh as your tip nudges into it. You can feel – a pulse? Your own pulse, surely. Everything, all of this is in your head, its all in your own head, you think with a disappointing certainty. Until the fleshy end moves against you.
Your shower cubicle opens before you, spacious yet snug, the fluorescent light giving a vaguely clinical cleanliness to the white floor and walls, their unified colour unbroken and unspoiled, forming a perfect whole that invites you home. At least it would, were it not for the black hole in the wall! Right before the open cubicle-door, a small, black, hole, so round it could only have been made by someone taking a power tool to your wall!
You close the cubicle door, open it again. The hole is still there, much to your annoyance. You close the door again, open it, close it, open it, slam it closed and … hesitate. Very, very slowly, very carefully, you open the door halfway, hiding your naked body behind it as you quiver with realization. The hole is in the tiled wall of the bathroom itself. Meaning it could lead - to the next room? To a camera?
The possibilities race through your mind. Suddenly the thought of being watched is the least exciting thing as you struggle just to breathe. The air seams cold and somehow heavy. You step back. The door swings closed to a loud CLANK-K-k-k! The echoes and your eyes dart around a room that's no longer yours, no longer safe! But why? Why would they... they wouldn't, your own voice of reason asserts. No-one would drill a hole in the tiled wall of a shower just to put in the most obvious spy-camera ever! But still…
A minute later the cubicle-door reopens with you hiding behind it, holding your phone before you as if it were a weapon. The hole watches, as you awkwardly dart into the cubicle and spring against the far wall, treating the hole to a loud fleshy smack, followed by a hushed but emphatic: “ow!” Feeling equal parts silly and terrified, you sidle along the wall towards the hole, and carefully lower the phone before it. You press a button - frown, press the correct button, and hear the digital click of the phone’s camera.
You hand darts back, the screen showing a picture of a watching eye, a spy camera, a... an empty black hole. Your mind sorts your fears from reality, and you see an empty black hole on the screen. But still - you frown, and mainly to make your phobias shut-up, you turn on the camera’s flash and lower the phone to take another picture. You click the button, see the flash, and hear a screech.
You hand is already back at your heaving chest. You stare at the screen, see… a black hole. You mentally kick yourself - camera’s in the wall, screeching sounds, your jumping at nothing! The screeching must have been the pipes, and the hole... okay no idea why the hell it’s there, but it’s EMPTY! A small voice at the back of your head is wondering why the flash didn’t illuminate the darkness, still showing you a pitch-black hole, but your aggressively-asserted reason shuts the voice down before it can be taken seriously.
To prove your resolve you thrust away from the wall, stand directly before the harmless hole, and defiantly stick out your tongue. Part of you swears you hear a low grumbling sound in response, and the rest of you steadfastly ignores it, as you place the phone on the small wooden bench, and turn on the shower.
Someone’s been fucking with your masturbation spot!
The indignity of it - all you wanted, all you needed, was somewhere private and out of the way to use just once a day, maybe twice… okay three times but that only happened once! And is it too much to ask that the thirty-first story bathroom, which NO-ONE USES since the floor’s entire company folded, could remain that way - private, out of the way, and not fucked with?! Apparently it is.
And everything was going so well too. You’d been fantasizing about this all day, and then your lunch break had arrived you finally had the time to go to your private spot - your own, private, thirty-first story bathroom. Everything was going just as it should - you’d gone through your usual routine without missing a beat. One-minute to calmly walk from your desk to the lift, the picture of innocence. Two minutes to nonchalantly pace out a lap of the thirty-first floor, making sure it was indeed still abandoned. Ten-seconds to rush back to the bathroom and lock the door behind you, the echoes of the thud filling your white-tiled, private, secluded room, alone at last.
Five minutes to stand before the mirror, regarding your own smiling face. You liked to imagine you were someone else, seeing yourself from the outside, pretending the neat, shoulder-length red hair belonged to someone else, someone secretly exciting. Someone whose full lips smiled back at you, whose freckled face and excited blue eyes knew something you didn’t. You liked to watch, as your left arm came out to one side, holding your glossy red handbag at arm’s length, releasing it to a meaningful thunk. You watched as both hands rose together up your grey business blazer, undoing one button, two, the fingers tracing the red tie all the way up to the neck, loosening it out the way to nimbly find the white shirt-buttons below. One button, two, three, and then a hint of red beneath, the shirt falling apart to reveal a vibrant red bra below, the suit falling free as the shirt widened to reveal the clear cleavage and firm curves of breasts held by the red bra you pretend you were seeing for the first time.
Even more, you liked to imagine you were being watched, that the figure standing in the mirror was watching you as shirt, tie, bra and trousers all fell one after another, until you stood bare before the mirror, your freckled arms hiding your pale breasts from sight, feeling the shy frown on your face and seeing the excitement in your mirrored eyes. Your eyes descended down, all the way down to where the long groove of stomach and inward curve of hips collected to a band of red material, the thin underwear pulled tight against your hips by the obvious, growing bulge between them.
Here you could barely pretend to be the watcher, you were so caught up in being watched - in having your most intimate secret seen by another person, only a thin red piece of fabric hiding you from the undeniable sight of someone else. Slowly, as if they weren’t under your control, your hands lowered, revealing the pink of nipples already hard, the hands tracing coyly town your own sides, fingertips meeting the edges of the red fabric, pushing, the garment slowly slipping an inch, two… falling free. Leaving you standing there, bare from breasts to hard, exposed cock, everything and every part of you seen by the watcher in the mirror. The watcher, that was only you.
You tried not to be disappointed. Tried to hold onto the thrilling excitement of someone else seeing you, someone else seeing all of you, wanting all of you.
Thirty seconds to step free of your clothes, left in a pile in the middle of the floor, just in case someone walked in through the locked door - and make your way to the white-lacquered door of the shower cubicle, and step inside.
And then, you found someone had ruined everything!
It’s getting dark outside. At least, you think it is - maybe the tiny bathroom windows really are black, the frosted glass dark against the white-tile walls of the place that has becomes your prison. Or maybe, you desperately hope, maybe its just your vision finally, finally starting to black out. Maybe its all in your head. Maybe none of this is real - how could any of this, any of it be REAL - your thoughts are interrupted as you gasp out loud, feeling the slick, fleshy root that's been twisting sweet, directionless pleasure suddenly tense straight. Your eyes fly wide, as you hope against hope, only to feel the root's firm tip push itself directly into your prostate again. Not again, not again - again it starts to thrust.
Even if you had the strength, you can barely move amidst the slick, tight roots binding your arms above your head, spreading your legs out wide as in between the slick root pounds your rear forwards into the sucking flesh that envelops your cock. You’re just trying to breathe, trying to hold on, as much to your physical restraints as to your own sanity, all while your treacherous hips start thrusting again, picking up the building pace that's sending you relentlessly into yet another orgasm. Your restraints move with you, the roots creaking taut as your limbs tense inwards, your whole body coiling in closer, closer, holding for one eternal instant... then exploding outwards with your voice. There aren’t any words to describe it, no room for words, for anything other than the white hot waves of pleasure shooting out of your cock, each burst of bliss filling you all the way from your spasming toes to your smiling mouth as you scream in hopeless joy for the hundredth time.
How could any of this heaven, this hell - how could any of this be real?
