Cock Drunk Emily

Regardless my jaw is aching so I slip back to the head of him and press my lips against it. I turn sideways, still pumping my fingers into my sex, as I kiss my way down one side of him and over to the other, kissing back up to the top.

My thumb finds my clit and draws out a little more. Sliding back and forth before pressing in for a moment and then pulling back, slipping around and around in circles first and then a figure eight afterwards, each connection of the two spheres sliding over my clit which is so wet from the juices of my sex that it slips easily.

I build myself up. Turning back once more down the length this time on the underside of his shaft. Kissing his balls once I reach them and then pulling each one into my mouth and suckking. Playing my tongue against his heavy sac while my lips close over it, then kissing against it again and again until I'm almost lovingly nuzzling his body.

There is no love here, though. None from me and certainly none from him. There is just a sequence of attempts, each one adding on a brick to the pile. Like a game of jenga with the tower getting higher and higher but more unsteady with each new block placed. Knowing that in the end it will topple, that glorious release that will be celebrated instead of vilified in this case because lord it will end with what we both want and need it to end with.

It will end with what we're both looking for.

A body slides in next to me and Rachel takes my place at his head. And yes, she just stole my new toy. But I don't take it unkindly, instead when she lays her arm across my shoulders I see it almost as a kinship, the two of us coming closer as we set our minds and our bodies to the same perfect purpose.

The man on the other side of the wall clearly does the math. He feels the two mouths on him and he tries to speak but all that comes out is the shudder of a moan as he pictures in his minds eye the two young co-eds pleasuring his cock.

For a moment I let myself believe that maybe he doesn't really know who is on this side of the wall. After all that would be the case most times, in a scenario like this. In fact, not to break the illusion for anyone, but we all should know how it usually goes.

How usually this is all far more seedy. How usually you can just pretend that the mouth you want belongs to the person you want it to be. To be even the gender you want it to be, but it isn't always.

I wonder what that means for this, then. I mean Rachel might be a woman born and all, but my situation was decidedly different.

Still there is a certain kind of delight in the particulars of these circumstances. Thinking of the fact that the man might be imagining one thing is behind the wall but not knowing. Not knowing that it might be closer to the truth than he could ever believe.

Gloryholes are about fantasy, after all. And for the average man what better fantasy is there than this? Two beautiful co-eds eager to take his cock. Naked and touching themselves, each other, and him all in equal measure.

That's the dream for most men. And to have him be fantasizing about that while a little voice in the back of his head doubts it while all along it is the truth is a twisted layer of multi-faceted delight that it's enough to make me giggle with glee.

Looking up at Rachel somehow I know she's thinking the same thing, and so my giggle fit sparks off one of her own. Before long we're both half torn between indulging in our humor and giving him his pleasure, but one thing is certain.

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