Chapter 6
brENT
I didn’t truly have any intention of going to the Omega Holiday Glory Orgy today. The idea that I might stumble upon Rafe hooking up with others makes my stomach churn, and I just don’t want to see it.
It’s not like I’m unaware that he’s hooked up in the years we’ve known each other. He absolutely has. I’m not even sure how many times, but more than I’m willing to think about. The key here is that I’ve never seen it.
He’s never brought a partner back. He’s never mentioned a girlfriend. It’s always a hookup. Meaningless.
Not that I think seeing him in the middle of an orgy will be any less meaningless, but at least when I hear that he’s hooking up, I don’t have to see it, and my brain can pretend he met this girl and decided he didn’t want to get involved.
Rafe has the second shift at the door, so I studiously try not to watch the time. I know the moment that his short shift is over. That means he’s either going to join in the fun or leave the orgy. Minutes tick by slowly, and it’s only a few minutes later that I determine he’s staying there.
I’m not sure what I’m doing as I get to my feet and head downstairs in the direction of the ballroom. I’ve been to one Omega orgy in the past. My first year on campus. Before Edin and Morgan moved in and we paused the sex parties.
It was fun. My pining for Rafe wasn’t nearly as out of control, and I could enjoy the orgy. Even knowing that, I head downstairs. Maybe if I see him in an orgy, I can join in and we can fuck. That’s acceptable, right? After all, it’s an orgy.
But I imagine that he’s probably in a co-ed group and…
no, I don’t think I can do that. I mean, maybe, but probably not.
I’ll be too distracted by trying to keep girl bits away from me.
Which feels like it would be far too obvious that I’m there for Rafe since I’m not into women and have joined a co-ed orgy instead of an all-guy orgy.
My pathetic-ness knows no bounds.
I don’t know the girl at the door, but she recognizes me since she greets me by name.
Which doesn’t make this awkward in the least. I can tell by the expression she gives me that I don’t manage to play off the fact that I don’t know her convincingly.
Not that she tells me her name before I head for the locker room.
I’m bombarded with sexy sounds, as if I walked into a live porn shoot. But there are far more voices than just a single shoot going on. I strip bare and stuff everything into the locker so I’m left in only my socks.
Once I’m beyond the partition, I give my eyes a minute to take in my surroundings. I can’t see anyone except a man walking by, stroking his dick. My shoulders relax. I don’t necessarily want to see.
Co-ed parties like this are kind of weird to me. At the same time, I like that we hold them because it proves that all sexualities can co-mingle in every setting if people want to. That’s the key takeaway from these. If they want to.
I take a look at the light code board and stop to grab a bottle of water while looking at the rows that lead to glory holes. Or I can go around the perimeter and join an orgy. My body wants to find Rafe. Most of me wants to find him.
But there’s a very loud part of me that doesn’t want to see him with another person. I have a feeling I’ll never be able to unsee that. What am I doing here?
I’d feel foolish leaving now, so I make the least damning decision and head down the male-male glory hole aisle to choose a cock. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been fucked, so at the very least, maybe I’ll get a good orgasm out of this.
The green string lights framing the aisle between two short walls with a door in the center of each signal where I should go.
There are green lights strung all around, giving this section a very green vibe.
I’m reminded of the seven deadly sins for some reason, and right now, I’m walking through envy.
The first two stalls, one on each side of me, are occupied. The guy to my left is hanging onto the bar in front of him with his ass pressed to the wall. I can tell by the way his eyes are rolling back, his mouth hanging open, and his body shuddering every other second that he’s being fucked.
A thrill of arousal trickles down my spine. The guy to my left is on his knees, his mouth being fucked.
Good God. I didn’t expect this to be as hot as it is.
I find the first open stall on my left and pause to look at the cock. I’m not sure why I walk by, but the next stall I come to is empty. As I pause to examine the area, a cock slides through the hole and waits.
My tongue flickers out to lick my lips. Apparently, this is where I’m stopping. I step under the bar and stop in front of the wall to look at the cock. It’s nice. I like the cockhead. It’s perfect and smooth, kind of big but proportionate to the girth of the shaft sticking out of the hole.
There’s a cushion in front of the wall, so I drop to my knees, setting my bottle of water beside me on the floor. There’s a small shelf there with condoms and lube. In case we want to turn it around after, I suppose.
I lean forward and lick the cockhead that’s really quite ideal.
Oh, yes. I like the soft texture. Leaning back a little, I examine this work of art and try not to pretend that it’s Rafe behind the wall.
I touch his length, tracing a vein. There’s something on his cockhead, and I press my finger to it, tracing the short mark.
I’m not sure what I’m looking at. A trick of the light, maybe.
Or a… tattoo? A strange place for one, and if it is, it’s a strange little mark.
I spend a few seconds touching it, wondering if it feels different.
If it does, I think I might be imagining the difference.
I leave the mark alone and trace his pronounced mushroom top.
If I have a single weakness, it’s seeing men in tight clothing and being able to distinctly make out the crown of their cockhead. I don’t know why it’s so fucking sexy to me, but it never fails to leave me weak in the knees, breathless, and drooling. Not to mention hard.
Unsurprisingly, with the sexiness of this crown, I’m picturing Rafe again. He walks around in his underwear to and from the shower, so I often see a hint of his goods, and there’s no one with a more distinct crown than that man. He can’t possibly know how much that undoes me.
I mentally shake the image of Rafe out of my head and trace the cockhead with my tongue. Around the perimeter. Flicking under the rim and then pressing into the slit. Still unbidden, an image of what I imagine Rafe would look like as I lick his cock flashes before my eyes.
Closing my eyes doesn’t help. It only makes the vision clearer, but at this point, it doesn’t matter. I know I’m going to be imagining Rafe. I can’t stop myself, no matter how much I try. It’s a losing battle. He is my fantasy, and when my lover has no face, they do have a face—Rafe Holt.
I can’t hear him. I’m not sure if this feels good or if they prefer something else. My head is filled with pornographic moans and body slapping. The slick sound of lube and bodily fluids. If this guy makes noise, it’s lost.
My tongue swirls his cockhead and presses against his slit until I’m rewarded with precum.
The salty brine makes me salivate to dilute the taste, and I use both my spit and his precum to coat the head of his dick before tightening my mouth around the first inch or so of his cock and giving him a nice suck.
I imagine he moans by the way his body twitches, and I’m rewarded with more precum.
I try to wrap my hand around his cock, but the wall is in the way, so I touch the bit of his exposed dick as much as I can.
Memorizing the texture, feeling the pronounced veining.
I wish the wall were thinner. I want to touch his balls.
Maybe I’m lost in the moment or lost in my imaginings that this is Rafe because I suck him for quite a while.
Mostly just exploration, but sometimes I want to make him leak and get down to business.
When it gets to the point where my cock aches and I’m throbbing with the need to come, I pull away and lick my lips.
Will he hear me if I tell him it’s time to fuck me? Maybe I should push a condom through the hole…
“Condom,” I say, speaking as close to the hole as I can. I tug on his cock a little and try again. “Condom. I want to ride.”
He must have gotten the memo because he pulls back. His beautiful dick disappears. My gaze remains on the hole while I reach for the lube and get my ass ready to receive. That’s a nice, glorious cockhead. I bet it’s going to feel real good stretching me wide.
A shiver of anticipation races down my spine. Fuck, I’m ready. My imagination doesn’t cool it. There’s still a very clear image of Rafe behind the wall, ready to fuck me until I’m crying.
Difficult to do when the wall steals at least two inches from me. Either way, I think it’ll be good. I’m still lubing up when the cock reappears. Fuck, it’s hot. The way the condom somehow makes his mushroom top stand out has my cock dripping. Why is that so damn sexy?
Breathless, I get to my feet and kick the pillow out of the way. This is awkward as hell as I reach behind me to spread my asscheeks and guide his cockhead to my hole. I hold my breath, waiting for him to breach me.
I groan as soon as that magnificent head breaks through. My breath puffs out of me as a wave of pleasure surges forward. I try to take a breath as I begin pushing back on him. The vision of Rafe is loud in my head.
Thicker in my hole than he feels in my mouth, and he’s harder now somehow. Like he’s gone from the flexible stiffness of a candy bar to something with a steel rod beneath the fleshy surface. I groan as I sink back until my ass cheeks are pressed firmly against the wall.
“Fuck me,” I demand. There’s no way he hears me.
But then again, the cock pulls back, sliding almost entirely out of my body, before coming forward again and impaling me.
“Oh, fuck,” I groan and let go of my ass cheeks in favor of gripping the bar in front of me. I press back, making sure I can take as much of him as possible, and I think I’m the exact spitting image of the first guy I spotted when I walked down the aisle.
With every thrust, every invasion of my body, my eyes roll backward and I grunt. My body shakes with each slam into me. I need to stroke my dick, but if I let go of the bar, I might be shoved forward.
What would he feel like if I could take his entire dick? I bet he’d have me howling like a banshee. If he feels this good with only a hand-length of cock, his whole cock must be magic.
Time slips away as I sink deeper and deeper into my pre-orgasmic high. How long can I take him before losing it? How long until I spill onto the floor in front of me?
I close my eyes and see Rafe’s face. There’s no wall between us. Just his body slamming into mine over and over. His moans fill my head—not a dozen strangers’ sounds surrounding us. His hands on my hips, keeping me still—not me gripping this bar for dear life.
My hand moves over my dick while I moan and grunt my way into climax. He doesn’t stop fucking me through it. Doesn’t stop fucking me after. He continues for several more minutes until I feel his cock throb in my spent hole as he fills his condom.
Then we’re still, trying to catch our breath. Am I supposed to pull away, or is he supposed to? What’s the protocol with glory holes?
When I feel him begin to pull out, I lean forward.
A shiver races throughout my entire body, and I lean heavily into the bar once I’m free of him.
Guilt immediately floods me. What is wrong with me?
Imagining Rafe here. He’d be mortified. It’s not the cliché gay boy crushing on his straight bestie that will make him hate me, but this: sexualizing him.
You just don’t do that to your friends. It’s wrong and gross and disrespectful.
I mentally berate myself as I clean up with a paper towel. Not the rough kind you find in kitchens. These are soft. I wipe up my load from the floor and toss it into the trash bin in the corner as I pick up my water bottle and push the cushion back into place.
I’m tempted to peer into the hole. Will I even see anything because the lights are so dim and green? Maybe just a vague shape.
Getting to my feet, I decide I don’t want to see.
Whoever it is won’t be Rafe, and no matter how disgusted with myself I feel, anyone else will be a disappointment.
So I don’t look. I head back down the aisle and toward the locker room to retrieve my clothes and head to the shower and pretend that I didn’t just imagine Rafe fucking me when he comes in later.
Everything will be normal. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve imagined him when hooking up.
“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “That’s something to be proud of.”
There’s no one in the locker room when I arrive. I dress quickly and follow the instructions that lead to the exit. Presley is there, so I wave on my way out.
Time to prepare myself to face my best friend and the object of my lust and pretend I didn’t just pretend it was him fucking me through a glory hole. No big deal.