The hole

(John’s Perspective)

The pub was dimmer in the back. Warm, hazy, the kind of space where secrets slid off the walls.

Claire was laughing at something Marcus said. Her hand brushed his arm like it was natural. Like it had always belonged there.

John sipped his beer and tried not to notice.

Then Nia leaned in across the table.

“There’s something fun in the bathroom,” she whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Something weird.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “What kind of weird?”

Nia just grinned. “You’ll see.”

Marcus stood. “I’ll check it out.”

Nia looked at John. “Go after him. But not at the same time.”

Claire looked at John, smirking behind her glass.

John waited a beat. Then followed.

⸻

The hallway was narrow, red-lit, and quiet. The men’s room door was propped open with a brick.

John stepped inside.

Empty. One sink, two stalls.

Marcus wasn’t there.

The far stall was shut.

John paused.

Then heard something.

Soft… rhythmic… wet.

He blinked. The sound stopped.

Footsteps.

Marcus stepped out a moment later, adjusting his belt. His face gave nothing away.

He walked past John with a single look — unreadable — and exited without a word.

John’s heart pounded.

He stepped into the same stall.

That’s when he saw it.

Low on the divider wall, barely above knee height — a hole. Sanded smooth, carefully cut, like it had been there a long time.

A gloryhole.

His mouth went dry.

He stared.

Then… unzipped.

He looked around. No one. Just him.

He stepped forward.

His cock was already hard. Aching. His body moved before he could think.

He fed himself through the hole.

A pause.

Then — giggles.

Two of them.

Soft. Female.

His heart nearly exploded.

Then he felt it — a warm mouth. Hot, wet, skilled.

No warning. Just suction. Pressure. Tongue.

He gasped. Loud.

The mouth slid halfway down his shaft, then all the way. Smooth. Confident. No hesitation.

John’s knees buckled slightly. He braced against the stall.

One moan — and the mouth stopped.

He whined.

But there was no more. Just empty air.

He pulled back, dazed, still hard.

He adjusted, zipped up slowly, heart thudding in his throat.

He didn’t know who it was.

He didn’t want to know — not yet.

⸻

Back at the table, Nia was already seated, sipping from Claire’s drink.

Claire looked at John like nothing had happened. Her eyes sparkled.

Marcus returned seconds later, calm as ever.

John sat down.

Everyone was smiling.

He didn’t say a word.

His cock was still hard.

And he hadn’t cum.