Gloryhole for 2 please

“You ready girl??” Laila told exited to claire. They met again because Laila had a little surprise for them…

She led them down a narrow hallway lined with velvet curtains and soft gold lighting. Everything smelled like sandalwood and citrus—faint, clean, almost hypnotic.

Claire squeezed John’s hand. Her pulse was racing, and she didn’t try to hide it.

“Where are we?” she whispered.

“You’ll see,” Laila said. “It’s discreet. Intimate. And very, very fun.”

They stopped in front of a matte black door with a small brass emblem: Suite G. Laila pushed it open.

Inside: soft cushions, glowing floor lamps, and two curved walls that met in the center—each with a circular opening cut waist-high into the polished wood. The room was designed like a quiet, sensual puzzle.

Gloryholes. But upscale.

Claire blinked. “Wait… is this…?”

Laila grinned. “No pressure. But if you’re curious… now’s the time.”

Jason was already walking to one side. He was silent, focused. A presence more than a voice.

Laila gently touched John’s chest and led him to the opposite wall.

“Stand there,” she whispered. “Let her come to you.”

John looked to Claire. She hesitated… then nodded. Her eyes were dark with tension and need.

The men stepped behind the partition, and after a moment, two hard shafts slid through the openings.

Claire froze.

John’s cock was already half-hard—flushed, exposed, throbbing with anticipation.

But Jason’s—

Claire glanced at it, and her breath caught.

It was darker, longer. Thicker. Veiny. Slightly curved upward, pulsing with heat. She could smell him. Not in a bad way—no. It was raw, male, heady, almost dizzying. Like leather, salt, and clean sweat.

Laila dropped to her knees without hesitation and took Jason into her mouth.

Claire watched, entranced.

“You can start with John,” Laila murmured, licking her lips between strokes. “It’s always sweet at first.”

Claire nodded and moved to her husband’s side.

She kissed the tip lightly. He groaned.

Her lips parted, slow, soft. She took him fully, and John gasped from behind the wall.

It was familiar—but the setting, the anonymity, the scent of the room—it made everything feel amplified. Claire worked him gently, hands on his thighs, tongue soft and playful.

But her eyes kept darting back to Jason.

Laila was sucking him like she’d done it a hundred times. Her cheeks hollowed, her hands stroked his base. He barely moved. Just stood there—letting it happen. Owning it.

Then Laila looked to Claire and smiled.

“Want a taste?” she whispered.

Claire paused. “Of… him?”

“You’ll see why I keep coming back,” Laila said with a wink.

Claire blinked. Looked at John’s cock still glistening in front of her. Then back to Jason’s. The smell of him filled her lungs again.

She moved slowly. Nervously.

And then she leaned in.

The moment her lips touched him, she felt it—the weight, the heat, the power humming just under the surface.

She closed her eyes and drew him into her mouth.

Jason groaned.

Claire froze.

His taste—salty, clean, masculine—coated her tongue. She didn’t expect the way it numbed her lips. Or how addictive it felt almost instantly.

She pulled back, breathless, licking her lips.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

Laila giggled. “Told you.”

Claire went back for more—deeper this time. Her body responded on instinct. Her thighs rubbed together. Her mouth watered. She felt high. Drunk on him.

On the other side, John tried to breathe through the thick fog of sound and sensation. He didn’t know what she was doing anymore. The slurping, the soft moans—it had changed.

Laila turned her head and whispered to him through the partition.

“She switched.”

He froze. “What?”

“She’s tasting Jason now,” she whispered. “And she likes it.”

⸻

A few moments later, both men started to tense. Their breathing quickened. Laila’s pace increased, fast and sloppy now, her throat taking Jason easily. Claire mirrored her—hungry, flushed, moaning around his cock.

Jason’s hand tapped the wall.

Laila pulled off, mouth slick, gasping. “He’s close. Ready?”

Claire looked up at her, eyes wide, pupils blown.

Then she nodded.

Jason groaned.

Claire took him in again, both hands bracing the wall, and moaned as he came.

The first pulse filled her mouth instantly—hot, thick, and endless. She nearly choked but swallowed instinctively. Then came another, then another. She swallowed again, eyes closed.

It was intense. The taste lingered—strong, earthy, warm, like it belonged to her now.

A second later, John groaned too. Claire turned just in time to take him into her mouth again, gentle, comforting.

His was lighter, sweeter, but still overwhelming in the aftermath.

Both men stepped back behind the wall.

Claire sat back on her heels, gasping, lips swollen, mouth flushed.

Laila leaned close and kissed her cheek. “Well done.”

Claire nodded, wiping her mouth, but not all of it. She didn’t clean it completely.

⸻

Later that night, back in their villa, Claire curled up against John in bed, quiet.

She kissed him slowly—deeply—tongue searching his, lips still sticky with remnants of something he knew wasn’t only his.

He pulled back just slightly, tasted a bit of something different, something salty but sweet…

She smiled faintly. Didn’t explain.

And John didn’t ask.

But in the silence of the room, with her leg wrapped around him and her breath warm on his neck, he knew.

She hadn’t rinsed her mouth.

He smelled her breath, closes his eyes and slepr peacefully…