Please don’t expect a literary masterpiece. This is just a simple fictionalised recap of our most recent erm… ‘event’. On the Eastern coast of Australia, the two major NRL states, Queensland and New South Wales have a yearly, three game battle called the State of Origin. In this series, players have to play for the state in which they were first selected to play NRL. It is a glorious excuse to drink excessively, scream obscenities at the television and wear blue for NSW or maroon for QLD.
My story includes gloryhole sex, some elements of incest and drug use. If those are not your things, then I apologies for any time you’ve wasted. Our couple’s therapist encourages me to write these accounts. She doesn’t read them, but insists the act of ordering my thoughts into a story helps sort emotions and identify areas where she may be able to help. So, enjoy. Hubby and I sure did.
The day before, I’m a mess of nerves. It’s the same every time and hubby thinks it’s very funny.
“You’ll love it. You do this every time and then it’s all I hear about for days. Besides, no pressure. Totally up to you.”
He’s a sweety but he’s not going to get in a little room and suck all those cocks.
I am.
He took me to collect firewood thinking it might engage me and stop me overthinking. It was a great idea. We have a bar under the house these days and there is a little pot belly stove down there to warm the place up so the wood is kind of necessary and the active afternoon enjoyable.
“How many coming?” I asked as I throw another piece of fallen ironbark in the ute.
He waggled his eyebrows at me in reply. “As many as you like, my queen.”
“Haha. How many, dickhead?”
“Seven or eight. Stu doesn’t know if he can make it. Oh, not including your folk.”
“Mum was keen.”
“That she was.”
“What time will they get here?”
“Dad said they’d leave around lunch time so maybe four o’clock. Your mum can help with prep and take a bit of the weight off you.”
“Hardly anything left to do. All the meat and salads are ready. I just need you to put the little camp fridge in the playroom so I can put a few fizzy things in it for Mum and I.”
The playroom… (Insert naughty giggle.) My friend Trish and her husband Doug introduced the concept to us years ago. Since then, we have made the tree-change to a small property three and a half hours inland from Brisbane. We still keep in contact with them but don’t see them very often.
So, when we bought this old Queenslander house, one of the first projects Paul took on was building in a playroom for us. It’s kind of an extension off the side of the downstairs bathroom. For whatever reason, the house has a fully appointed upstairs bathroom and s a smaller shower and toilet in a room downstairs where Paul built his bar. Our neighbour said one afternoon when visiting that this place used to be an old piggery and it was commonplace to have somewhere away from the house proper to clean up before going upstairs.
The reason Paul put the playroom next to the toilet was simple.
A gloryhole.
Just for me.
The playroom is accessed from outside the built-in downstairs and the toilet has a door opening into the bar area. We’ve since furnished the little room with some creature comforts like a little sink to wash hands etc and a small pantry to store toys, lubes, condoms and that sort of thing. The major feature of the room is a six-inch diameter hole in the sturdy chipboard panel that separates the toilet and the playroom.
It has a sliding panel that can be removed on the playroom side and a family photograph proudly hung, albeit at a strange height, that hides the hole from neighbours and visitors. This Sunday night will be our first opportunity to break in the new extension. This Sunday night Paul has invited his colleagues at the mill over for a boy’s only State of Origin party, purportedly to christen his new bar.
I’ve met most of his mates from the mill over the last three months but not all of them. For the most part, they are ordinary, hard-working labourer types ranging in age from eighteen with a couple of men who are probably Dad’s age. They are cheeky sods who are quick with a naughty but friendly flirt whenever I drop in to visit Paul.
Our kids are in their teens now and rolled their eyes at the thought of a work party. Jaden eighteen, has taken the opportunity to spend the weekend at his girlfriend’s place and his younger sister Ebony sixteen, is staying with neighbours. The closest neighbours have a daughter in her class at high school and horses, so it was a natural solution for her. She loves horses. The promise that we’d consider getting one for her was the only way to sweeten her towards the move to the country.
We stacked the firewood in the box near the little potbelly and I watched as Paul dragged the camping fridge out the door and around the side to the playroom door. I’ve found some nice little bar fridges in town that we’ll eventually install in there but there are no power points in there yet. Some led twelve-volt lights and the little fridge will run off the deep cycle battery we take camping. The little portaloo sits at one end of the space as well so fizzy drinks can be recycled if needed.
As a last-minute addition, I get my work laptop and take it downstairs to set up. Eventually we’ll install security cameras to record things like Trish and Doug do, but for now I try and position the little lappy so that it can record the action.
“Oh! Great idea, babe. See…” He grabs me around the waist and squeezes a giggle out of me. “This is why I love you. Stress less lady. Come on, come and have a couple of beers while I get the barby set up.”
His kiss is all heat and tongue and the sort of kiss that promises a lot more a little later on.
I watch him as he assembles the new barbecue. He’s a good-looking man still. He’s kept fit, actually got fitter since leaving the office and starting work out here in the mill. His arms are my favourite feature. He’s not huge but they are big and strong and a constant promise of protection and warmth to me. There’s a little fleck or two of grey above his ears these days but at least he still has all his hair. I love him.
The hardest thing to organise for tonight was the decoy. In Brisbane we just rang one of the hundreds of stripper agencies but out here those didn’t exist. Thankfully, Mum was able to find one from Brisbane who was prepared to travel so long as accommodation was supplied in a nearby town for the evening. She cost us a cool thousand dollars, but when Paul told the fellas about her, they all chipped in a hundred.
So, it was boys only tomorrow night.
By sunset, the butterflies in my tummy were starting to turn into emus and my sweet man could tell.
“You go find a stool at the bar. I’ll whip up something quick after I’ve had a shower and we’ll have a couple of games of pool, hey?”
I just nod. A few games of pool and some beers sounds like just what I need. I listen to other women whinge about their partners all the time and wonder why they even bother. Really, if your relationship is that much hard work, why do it? Mostly it just reminds me to be very grateful for the wonderful dickhead that loves me.
He just makes it easy. We still sit and talk for hours without it feeling forced. We love fishing together and camping. He always makes time for us. He’s really perceptive of my needs. It’s easy to love him. He even shares this weird fetish that’s consumed us. Sometimes I think he even gets off on it more than I do.
Trish and Doug share the same thing. They introduced us to the gloryhole thing by inviting us along to a ‘poker’ night. I’ll write about that another time. But the basics were that Doug and his mates played poker and whoever won the hand, sat the next hand out and enjoyed the use of their gloryhole.
Behind which, Trish and I who had pretended to drive off for a girl’s night out, sat and sucked dicks all night. They had a strict rule that ‘eating aint cheating’, that is sucking cocks only, no fucking allowed. One night as we lay in a sweaty cum smeared mess, Paul asked why I never fucked one of the cocks.
That led to a long, honest conversation about cheating and our relationship and ultimately Paul’s admission that he found the idea of seeing me fuck another man aroused him beyond words but could only ever happen if it was with the anonymous safety of a gloryhole. He had been cheated on by an ex and the worst part of it was other people knowing and his feeling like they thought less of him. He was most certainly not interested in being belittled but most certainly interested in me enjoying myself with another mans cock anonymously.
He said that if I could, without hurting my self-esteem, fuck a stranger at the gloryhole for him to watch, that it would satisfy that craving to know what it looked like without it feeling like a betrayal. It took a long while to feel comfortable with that idea myself. I’ll write about that later too. These days though, I am allowed to suck or fuck which ever dick comes through the hole that I want on two conditions.
He wears a rubber.
I record it for Paul.
Jesus, some of the hottest sex I’ve had over the course of our marriage has been lying in bed with my handsome hubby after a session and watching it all over again with him. He makes me tell him how each cock felt when it fucked me. He especially likes the bigger ones filling me up. There’s nothing wrong his seven-inch cock, but it’s a bit of a size kink he gets off on.
He has me tell him how many loads I swallowed or wore and how many condoms I filled and he pounds me over and over in reclamation.
I’ve spoken to a marriage counsellor about it. We went together. We weren’t having problems in our marriage but in a conversation one night we wondered if we should be worried about possible pitfalls as a result of our naughty hobby.
We worked through it over several sessions and I personally gained a lot from them. For instance, I felt quite reassured that Paul sharing me anonymously did not mean he loved me any less. Neither did it mean that he saw me as a cheap slut to meanly share because he didn’t value me. To the contrary, it seemed the act made him trust me more and brought us closer. Oh… And he has a voyeurism streak a mile wide.
Whatever… It works for us and has been wonderful for our relationship.
So Saturday night before I suck and fuck a bunch of cocks, we eat meat pies and potato fries. We play pool and drink beer and laugh. We are that couple. The one that still enjoy each other’s company and still make each other laugh a lot. We are mates as well as lovers as well as parents.
Then we test out his sixty-five-inch plasma. Told you he was a size queen! It’s mounted on the wall behind the bar. We got it last week from the local shops just for Sunday night. We tested it by taking the opportunity of a child-free night to watch porn while we played pool and laughed and forgot to take ourselves seriously.
I knew it was coming. The moment porn goes on the telly, there is going to be a dick in me. I wasn’t disappointed.
“Clack. Thud. Rolllll” The black ball hit the middle pocket with confident force and rolled down the return with an ominous kind of drum roll.
He didn’t miss a beat. Those strong arms grabbed me around the waist and lifted me giggling up on the table as his rough stubble scratched my lips and his tongue invaded me as thoroughly as he was shortly going to.
My tits were free in no time and he mauled them like a hungry bear. His hands… My god they were everywhere. My breasts, my back, my butt, my crack… and suddenly I was full of him. He’d spat on his fingers, wet his cock, used his fingers to spread me open and speared into me with a time practiced efficiency that made it just a single motion.
Oh god, I love his dick. In just moments, I am shuddering as I teeter on the edge of the table. The pain of the awkward surface against my butt as he ploughs into me is forgotten with the rising orgasm. My own whore mouth drowned out the sounds of porn from the television as I rose to a glorious peak and damn…
There it was. Something about this angle and that cock and this moment just exploded through me. I felt myself squirt around him and I felt him squirt inside me as he slammed each spurt of cum into me. We don’t get it timed so perfectly all the time but more often than not this kind of thing happens. I don’t usually squirt either. We have to work hard for that, but I guess anticipation and location and fuck it…
I’m not thinking anymore as he lifts me back to my wobbly legs and kisses me gently. Cum farts out of me as I try to walk and we giggle together like maniacs at the sound.
I slept soon after, nestled in his big strong arms as he gently snored behind me. I fell asleep feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.
8=============>
The boys have all arrived and are milling around the bar enjoying some pre-game beers. The barbecue was a raging success and Mum and I wash up and stack the dishwasher. Those nervous feelings from yesterday have been completely replaced with unfettered excitement.
Earlier as I walked around chatting with Paul’s mates and playing the host, I felt that warm glow of lust rising in me. Each time I shook a hand or kissed a cheek, I knew that later I would have that man’s cock in my hand or my mouth. Every time I saw them after tonight, I would have a secret reason to smile at them in conversation.
Mum was feeling it too. She kept throwing me these cheeky looks and winking.
She’s not my real mum. The incubator, my sister Laura calls her; the incubator fucked around on Dad and he met Rainey later. They were married in less than six months and have lived some mad fairy-tale ever since. Rainey is your typical hippy-dippy looking free soul. Hers is a sad story with a happy ending that I’ll write about another time. For now, you just need to know she does not shave a single red hair off any part of herself. She grew up on a commune. She knew about me and my father and welcomed that relationship with open arms. She has always been more Mum to me than the woman who gave birth to me.
Oh, and she really, I mean REALLY, loves sex.
When I told Dad about the gloryhole thing, his first words were, “Wait till I tell Rainey. She’ll be right in on that. Oh… If that’s alright with you, bub?”
So, this evening as the commentator does all the pre-game yabbering about players and recaps and so on, she is just as excited as I am. The little pixie sized dreadlocked redhead pulls the plug from the sink, dries her hands on a towel and turns to smile up at me.
“Let’s get this party started, Maddy.”
So, we wander downstairs in our ‘going out’ dresses with handbags and phones and announce that we’re leaving to go and enjoy a girl’s night in town. We kiss our husbands goodnight and Rainey laughs when Joe, the foreman invites us both to stay for the stripper.
“You know I just might, I have been known to play both teams.”
We leave the laughter fade behind us and walk out into the darkened yard to my car. Which we promptly drive down to the nearby truckstop, park and secure, then walk back along the mowed fence line to my house in the moonlight.
By the noise coming from under the house as we sneak in the side gate, the stripper must have arrived. Usually, I like to watch the girls myself, but as I mentioned, our tech set up isn’t as advanced just yet as it was at our old place.
I let Mum in the outside door to the little room and she giggles at the crudity of it.
“I like what you’ve done with the place.”
“Still a work in progress. Would you like a drink? I’ve got some of those vodka things, beer…”
I turn to find her pulling a big breath from a bubbling glass bong and laugh at her. “Vodka it is then.”
“Ta bub.” She says taking the drink and passing the bong.
“This isn’t that mad hydro?” I ask.
“Nah. My own stuff. Mostly leaf. Little bit of tobacco in it to smooth it out.”
The next forty minutes or so pass quickly as we laugh and chat and smoke and drink. Mum’s naked. I swear the moment she gets inside closed doors, her first instinct is to shed her clothes. We talk freely. Paul insulated the little room really well. So well, that the cheering and leering sounds miles away. Eventually there’s a quieter moment and I guess the stripper’s leaving.
Then the night begins.
I can hear someone in the downstairs toilet beside us. They piss loudly into the bowl and then I hear rattles and bumps and light comes through the glory hole. A face lowers to the hole and my gorgeous hubby says, “Ready ladies?”
“Ready and waiting, big boy.” Mum laughs beside me as I kiss my silly man through the hole.
“Have fun, babe. Don’t forget the lappy.”
“Oh shit, Mum.” I say as I see Paul’s cock come through the hole. He’s half hard already. “Can you…” I nod at Pauls dick. “I have to set his up.”
By the time I’ve got the laptop camera open and recording, when I move it to aim it correctly, the first thing I see on the screen is my Mum with my husband’s cock all the way down her throat. She is frantically rubbing her clit as she bobs her throat on Paul’s cock and I’m hurriedly shedding clothes and trying to get with the action.
Just in time, I kneel beside her in front of the hole and she pulls her mouth off his pulsing dick and I watch as a spurt of cum hits her face then I swallow my hubby’s cock and take the next few pumps of cum. The rest I christen the playroom with. It’s kind of fitting that it’s Pauls cum to first splash against the floor and to paint his mother-in-law and me.
“Fucking insane, Rainey. Thanks ladies. Have a great night hey. I love you both.” Paul moves from the hole and I can see him pulling his trousers up and doing up his belt.
We wash the cum from our mouths with a few sips of our drinks and smile knowingly at each other. It’s on!
I was just listening to the sounds of our next, (our first guest really, I guess), open the toilet door and start peeing in the toilet when there was a gentle knock on the playroom door that made me jolt with alarm.
“Relax bub, just Dad. It’s fucking freezing out here.”
Mum opened the door and wrapped Dad in a big naked hug, then took the little fan heater and power-board from him, dragging the extension lead inside with it.
“Thanks Daddy.” I hugged him and kissed his neck while he folded me in his arms. “Will you visit soon?”
He’s usually last. Like he needs to claim us before it all finishes for the evening.
“Later bub.” He kisses my forehead. “Rainey, I love you. You know that old girl, right?”
“Dickhead. Give me a kiss.” She tells him and giggles over to wrap him in naked legs and arms and kiss him like something from a steamy movie. “Thanks for the heater. Fucking cold in here.”
“Paul’s idea. He didn’t want Maddy’s laptop going flat. And neither did I, sweet cheeks.” He emphasises by slapping Mum playfully on the butt. “Better go… Games going alright. Don’t want to miss-”
“You could stay and give your baby that load you were telling me about, lover.” Mum teases him.
“I’ll save that one for later. You know how I like to finish things off.”
“Love you, wanker-head.” Mum tugs his beard and makes him kiss her. “Now go on. Get back in there and bloke it up a bit.”
“Love you too, Rainey. Have some fun darl.”
“Already have. You know how much I love blowing your son in laws mind.”
“He did look err… well blown.” Dad chuckles and backs out the doorway. I’m plugging the lappy in and setting up the fan heater. The little potbelly just doesn’t get through the insulation. In no time, I’m toasty warm and turning the heater down. There is also a fresh cock poking rudely through the hole and someone talking on their phone in the adjacent toilet.
“Nah, fair dinkum…”
“Some fucking stripper.”
“Yeah. Paul said.”
“Nah, no bullshit.”
“Fuck off. Oh jesus!” That was the moment I sucked his flaccid little cock into my mouth and Mum started fondling his balls. He didn’t have much to say after that. “Gotta… fuck… go… bye.”
It grew some. But not a hell of a lot. The smaller ones are fun though. Not so much work for the same return. In no time I pulled his spurting dick out of my mouth and aimed it all over Mum’s tits. She loves that. When he’s done and vanished and Mum’s done taking pictures of his spunk all over her, I smile and wipe my nose.
He’d taken me by surprise with his quickdraw cock and some had come out my nose.
Mum giggles and scratches a ‘1’ on my side of the hole. She loves this game. We keep a tally of who got the load. Then we compare them like silly schoolgirls competing over bullshit later. My best is over thirty in one night. That was another story that involves a football team and their fans.
Mum wasn’t there for that but Trish was.
It’s like dominos after that first one. They line up. They get their rocks off. Then they glow in the moment for a while before they come back for seconds. I’m a little hopeful tonight that the youth of this mob will make that moment a very short one. By the time the half time whistle is blown, I have blown eight cocks according to my tally and Mum has blown four. In all fairness, she gets them so damn close with her deepthroat skill and then passes them off to her cum-hungry slut of a daughter.
My favourite one arrived just after half time and said, “Hey bub. Got some loving for your old man?”
Mum smiled beside me and opened another of the lolly flavoured vodka things she likes. “Go on, bub. Blow his mind.”
Her eyes literally burned into me as she watched and pleasured herself. I sucked my half-hard Daddy until I could feel him pulsing in my mouth and hear him groaning on the other side of the wall. Then I stood and turned around.
I held the dick that brought me into the world and swiped it through my sopping twat then slowly, slowly, drove it deep inside me.
“Fucking love you, bub.” He groaned from the other side.
“Prove it, Daddy.”
His dick is a bit shorter than Pauls but just as fat. It stretches me so damn comfortably that I sometimes feel like we were made for each other and I just got greedy with Paul. I pull myself hard against the wall with the bath rails that Paul installed for this exact reason and luxuriate in my Daddy thumping into me gently.
Over and over, he thumps against me but it’s kind of cruel because the wall stops him hitting my clit and bringing me higher. Mum solves that.
She searches the pantry cupboard and smiles lovingly at me as she brings a tiny bullet vibe hard up against my clit and starts rubbing circles on me as my Daddy thump, thump, thumps away.
I can feel his head splitting me and almost pulling out but just when I think it’s gone, it’s back and pushing up inside me. I can feel my Mum rubbing gently at my back and whispering, “Shoosh bub… Just feel. Just feel…”
And then I feel.
I feel it all. It rolls over me like the waves my Daddy taught me to surf on and splashes and crashes and my gripping insides fuck him right up too. I can feel him grunt and thump every gush of hot cum into me. Over and over. And then. The best bit.
I feel my Daddy soften, satisfied. Knowing I’ve done a really good job. I know I’m good enough. I know I can be everything he needs. I know I’ve claimed this prize. He falls out of me and I squelch a little and dribble.
He’s the only man that Paul lets me bareback.
We’ll watch this later and Paul will fuck me so hard. They all love me. Mum. Daddy. Paul. The important people. They all love me so much right now. I’m good enough. I’m better than good enough. I am a good wife. I am a good daughter. I’m so… So much better than my cheating whore mother.
I didn’t notice him leave. Just Mum cuddling me warmly while she packed another cone and smiled to herself. I sort of zoned out for a while. By the time I cleared my head and my twat stopped twitching in afterglow, Mum had four more strokes to her tally and a big glob of cum dripping from the side of her ear.
The giggles got me.
We held each other for a long time and just giggled stupidly at the wild female power and joy in the room. We took pictures of our cum splashed bodies and bits of matted hair.
Then there was a cock.
It stuck through the hole like someone had taken the end of a baseball bat, sprayed some kind of enlarging and hardening magic dust on it, painted it black and put it in the hole.
“Ffffuuuuckkk.” I whispered and looked deeply at Mum, “George.”
He was the only black guy on the mill crew. He was such a skinny young fella though. The same height as me. Probably weighed less. Jesus h christ on a bicycle. Paul was going to love this.
Apparently so was Dad, Mum advised.
Before I could make coherent speech, Mum had that thing all the way down her throat. She knelt there with it embedded as far into her as she could. Her forehead was pressed against the wall and he was thrusting in and out as Mum’s eye’s bugged open and shut.
Eventually, the need for air pulled her off it and she shook her head to clear it and she passed it to me with her glassy eyes and drooly lips smiling. “Fucking at least nine inches.” She whispered.
I could not do that.
The deep throat thing was not a thing for me.
I could however try and squeeze as much of that big fat black cock into my small twat as I could so that my lovely Paul could ask me questions later while he pounded me stupid about how big it felt and how hot it was and whether it hurt. So…
So, I got Mum to suck it for a moment and got a condom from the pantry.
I rolled it all the way down that fat fuck stick until I ran out of condom and still had cock to go. Then, then I smiled at Mum, put my hands on her shoulders for balance and backed up really slowly.
His groan… That was all the thanks and encouragement I needed as I centred him against my drooling opening and inched him in. It stretched me until I stung and then it plopped in and pressed on further.
The guttural moan surprised me until I knew it was mine. Then I was suddenly afraid that I’d identified myself. What if he remembered my voice later in some random moment? This all has to be… Fuck!
Mum smiled and rolled up a dry washer then gestured for me to bite on it.
“Thanks.” I whispered to her and put it in my mouth.
And then…
Just as I got him all the way in, he shot his wad. I felt him lurch and spurt into the rubber. I heard him bang on the wall and curse. I heard him laugh and flush the toilet and the rubber away and leave. I heard Mum giggling beside me.
“He’ll be back. The only real good thing about youth and inexperience is recovery time.”
The air in our little room was thick with dank weed smoke, cunt and cum. I picked up the little notebook Paul had suggested and wrote, ‘exhaust fan’ and ‘disguise voice’ under the few other ideas we’d had throughout the evening. Just as I was putting the book down, another cock pushed through the hole and an angry voice almost ruined the night.
“Fucking suck it you fucking slut. I bet you’re some fat ugly slag. Some fucking toothless crack whore, not that I care. Just start fucking sucking bitch! Come on!” There is a loud thump on the wall between us and his very average dick bobs waiting for attention.
“Fuck you.” Mum says loudly enough for him to hear. “And the horse you rode in on, you rude prick.”
It’s not like we mind a bit of dirty talk but he sounds so angry. It’s not playful dirty talk. Sometimes someone calling me a slut or whore really gets me off, but this guy is sounding mean. Mum and I share a look of disgust and I slide the little cover across almost trapping his dick in it.
“Fucking cunt! Fucking open that, cunt!” He’s really pounding on the wall and Mum looks kind of frightened. I’m starting to worry that the wall will break when he hits the little slide and shatters it. His angry fist is in our side and bits of plywood litter the floor. He grasps wildly about trying to catch one of us I guess, and we press ourselves back on the far wall as we both frantically tap at our phones.
“Bing!” [on it] I read and show Mum.
The next thing we hear above the shouting and thumping is clearly Ian, the boss of the mill. And clearly, Ian is fucking unhappy.
“Simon, you open this fucking door right now you daft cunt or you can kiss your fucking job goodbye. Open it!”
“Fuck off. She closed the fucking window the fucking cunt. She sucked everyone else. I paid my fucking hundred bucks. I want my cock sucked too!”
“Open this fucking door!”
“Fuck off!”
“Listen here you dumb fuck. You’ve drunk free beer all night, had a fucking free feed, you pitched in for the stripper, that’s fucking all. Paul paid for the beer. He paid for the fucking barby and by fucking god, the man slipped the stripper an extra thousand of his own fucking money to… To do that. And now you’ve fucking frightened her you dumb cunt! I ought to fucking…”
At least this Simon wanker has stopped pounding on the wall. Mum looks frightened and I’m just fucking angry now.
“Do you know what you’ve fucking done? Paul paid her for an hour in there. She’s been in there nearly the whole game now, fuckwit. Just because he’d slipped her some weed and a few drinks and she was fucking having fun. You’ve fucked it for all of us. Fuck. Maybe you should just stay in there. These cunts are going to fucking kill you.”
There’s a long silence. All we can hear is heavy breathing then someone pissing.
“Coming out. Watch out for the door.” He grumbles and we hear the door open and jump in shock as the door to our little room opens as well.
“You alright, ladies?” Paul asks from the doorway. “I’m so sorry. The games gone to shit. The fucking ref is… the fellas are cranky but it’s… I’ll tell them the hole’s closed.”
“You’ll do no such bloody thing.” Mum tells him. “You can tell him that from now on they can knock and say their name and that if we hear young Simon’s voice again, that I’ll be holding scissors. He can go piss in the yard. That’ll fix the filthy bugger. Now… Shoo… We were having fun and we’re not fucking finished yet.”
“Ha. Love you Mum.”
“You better line up soon and prove it Pauly.” She winks at him and he laughs and closes the door behind him.
There’s a break of fifteen minutes or so in the traffic to our little hole in the wall. I guess they’re all navigating an awkward moment. It’s broken when a voice we recognise speaks a hell of a lot more demurely.
“Hey, I’m really sorry. Ah… Shit. I got all fired up over the fucking stupid game and then I acted like a fucking dick. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for scaring you and for being a rude cunt. Sorry, swearing… Look… Just you know… Just don’t let this ruin everything for everyone else. Um… That’s it… I just… I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, Simon.” Mum whispers loudly. “Never take your anger out on a woman again. It makes you look weak.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Then get your cock out and apologise properly, old mate.” She laughs.
“Serious? I’m like not even… I am so embarrassed, they’re all just… and he’s… soft.”
“Come on.” She reaches through the hole and waggles her fingers for him.
“Fuck, love your nails.” He says and Mum laughs as she hears his zip drop. It’s a thing we do as a little added camouflage. We dress to go out with our flashy red nails and lipstick and then when we get in here, we quickly paint them black. That way our nails are the same looking no matter which of us reaches through the hole. Later, before we leave we’ll change them back to red just for a little added insurance. We try hard not to moan and we whisper or disguise our voice but I guess they are just too happy to have their dicks sucked or we’ve just been lucky so far, but we’ve never been caught out.
I suppress a laugh when his little shrivelled cock comes through the hole. Mum frowns darkly at me and starts nuzzling at it. It grows fairly quickly into a very average and satisfactory if unspectacular dick. A sideways glance and bob of her head invite me to join in but I’m still… Not impressed at all with his behaviour anywhere near enough to offer him that.
I get a disapproving look from Mum and then she goes to town on his willy. He groans each time she hits his pubes with her nose and clearly there has been some kind of talk on etiquette as a result of his shenanigans because in short order he is knocking on the wall to announce his impending climax. One that I watch my Mum take in her mouth and only when he withdraws does she spit it on a towel.
“What did I teach you young lady?” She asks me in her annoyed Mum voice after the door closes. “His words are not a reflection of your worth. They are a reflection of a stupid misogynistic society that fed him hatred for powerful women. ‘Slut’ should be a brand you wear with pride. It means they can’t control your sexuality. ‘Whore’ should mean you know your worth and demand it.”
“Yessss Muuuummmm.” I roll my eyes and chuff at her. “I still can’t believe you sucked his cock after that disgracefull-”
“Reward growth and change and you will surround yourself with growth and change.”
“Still, you spat.”
She shrugs and pokes her tongue at me. “Pass me the billy. Men like that always leave a bad taste in my mouth.”
“Ian.” The mill manager’s voice announces. “Thank you for a great night. I’m sorry about the young fella. I hope you’re still having fun. The fella’s have passed the hat around to say sorry and maybe see if you’ll consider- ooh!”
I interrupt him by reaching through the wall and grabbing his crotch. He’s a lovely bloke. Ian has been nothing but kind to me every time I drop in to see Paul. He’s also a very fat man and I don’t think this is going to work so well for him. My hand on his belt urges him closer but there’s clearly no way his stomach is going to let his dick close enough for me to get my mouth on it.
So I unzip him and encourage him to hardness. I can feel most of his hard shaft still back in his pubic fat. If he lost weight, he’s have an impressive cock but there is only about four inches of it available to play with. Luckily, the most important couple of inches are at the end of it, where I have my hand. Mum passes me the lube when I nod at it and after quickly squirting a few pumps in my hand, I reach back through and continue my ‘happy ending’ massage of the large man’s dick.
“Oh fucking shit…” He bucks as I roll his knob in my palm. “Oh fucking… fuck, love… No one…”
And, I’m afraid the wall of the toilet copped that load. He kept thanking me over and over as he used toilet paper to clean up his mess. Mum seemed lost in her own little world when I looked across at her. She had the bong to her lips and was toying with a little g-spot vibe that Paul bought me. It’s a real fire-cracker of a thing and makes it just a bit easier to get those big squirty ones happening.
It’s always been beautiful watching her sexual expression. She carries scars from her childhood experience but has butterflied into this powerful full woman.
And then there are more cocks. And more cocks and more… I’m kneeling with my jaw aching and my tummy and tits looking like a badly iced cup cake. There are streaks of cum all over us and Mum is busy taking pictures as I bob on this cock with my mascara running and my hair a matted mess. When this last cock fills my mouth, I open it wide for the camera and jack him while I show Mum his mess in my mouth.
The noise changes outside. The television is silent and Paul says something to the fellas. Music starts and voices chat over it.
And then we’re both sitting back against the wall with the little slide closed, giggling like naughty schoolgirls as we finish our last drinks, paint our nails red and listen to the cars drive off. There are still voices in the bar, but the party is winding down now that the game is over. We’re arguing about our tallies. Mum still thinks that George doesn’t count because he was only inside me for about two seconds. I think that Simon doesn’t count because he was a jerk.
Either way, I have fourteen loads sprayed on me, pumped in me or swallowed Dad and George and one other I can’t identify but needed to use to get myself off, were the only cocks I fucked. It’s all about the power of the blowjob for me. Haha, with the occasional fuck thrown in. Mum has almost twenty. She sort of stopped counting after George got his third wind and actually lasted more than a few minutes inside her. We dab at ourselves with a warm wet washer from the sink and try to reassemble our pretty dresses, hair and make up but it’s hopeless.
Despite the fact we had deliberately worn very little make up, we still look like a pair of stoned, half-drunk floozies who’ve unashamedly made sluts of themselves. And maybe that’s a good thing. They’re supposed to believe we’ve been out for a messy girl’s night with some ladies up the road. I’m not sure the crusty jizz sticking to Mum’s hairy legs is really hidden by the stockings and I’m sure I’ve missed a wad or two while cleaning up.
We walk silently down to the truck stop. Not so much for stealth but I’m recapping the night and looking forward to getting Pauly alone when the others leave. And Mum? I don’t know what she’s thinking but she has a delicious smirk on her face. The sort of self-satisfied smirk all women should wear.
In the car are our handbags and we douse ourselves with perfumes to cover the smell of cunt and cum. Mum uses the mirror on the visor to fix her lippy and I use my phone. I probably shouldn’t drive but it’s only a few hundred metres to home and the highway is deserted. When we pull in there are only a few cars left and the noise in the bar is that of games of pool and quiet deconstruction of the game.
Not a word is spoken of the glory hole girl as Ian kisses my cheek and shakes Mum’s hand. George is waiting for his turn at pool and nursing a rum while his lift, Larry, takes his shot. He nods and smiles a sincerely polite, “Gidday Missus.” The fellas are sort of throwing each other sideways secret glances. It’s hilarious; like they are trying to hide what they’ve been up to from us.
Ian and Paul are talking work. Dad is nursing a beer and listening to one of the men I don’t know talk about the stupid ‘six again’ rule and discuss his theories on sports betting ruining the game. It’s all a little conspiratorial for my understanding.
Mum and I get beers from the fridge and answer the polite questions of how our evening was with polite queries of our own. And finally, finally, they all leave. Ian kisses my cheek like I wasn’t just tugging his chubby dick. George nods shyly and says, “Night Missus” like he hadn’t put that monster of his in both Mum and I earlier. Larry shakes my hand and tells me what a great husband I have, like I need reminding.
And finally! Paul and I goodnight Mum and Dad and watch them walk to their caravan. As soon as their door closes and the interior lights go on, Paul throws me back on that same pool table to tear off my soaked knickers and suck my clit through two orgasms before pounding me into the green felt.
We didn’t even get around to watching the footage from the laptop.
We made a strange stain on the felt that I can’t seem to get out. That happens when your husband tries to fuck you hard enough to reclaim you after you’ve taken fourteen loads at a glory hole.
Queensland lost. The score was something – twelve.
But I don’t care, full time score for me was seventeen loads to me. Paul scored those last three. There was a penalty my way for Paul attempting to play the back field. I just wasn’t in the mood. Maybe we can do that through the week.
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