Intense Cravings: Glory Hole Rapture
Jump to Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 1: The Sultry Whisper
Marcus wiped the sweat from his brow behind the dimly lit bar of the underground speakeasy, the air thick with the haze of cheap cigars and spilled whiskey. At 24, he slung drinks for rowdy crowds five nights a week, but his real hunger gnawed deeper—untouched cravings that kept him up at night, cock throbbing against his sheets.
His phone buzzed on the sticky counter. A text from Tia, his wild coworker with the pixie cut and tattooed thighs. “Heard you spilling secrets at that rooftop bash last month. Hungry for pussy worship? Got a spot for you. No strings. 1428 Elm Street tunnels. 10 PM Friday. $20 buy-in. Clean bill mandatory.”
His pulse quickened. That party—booze flowing, bodies grinding under string lights. He’d confessed his obsession with burying his face between a woman’s cheeks, tonguing that forbidden pucker until she shattered. Tia had laughed, her eyes gleaming, then vanished into the crowd with some leather-clad stud.
Now this. A secret glory hole den in the city’s forgotten train tunnels, renovated into a den of debauchery by Lena, the queen of kink. Marcus shoved his phone away, pouring another round for the suits leering at the dancers. But his mind raced. What if it was a setup? Or heaven?
Friday night came like a fever dream. He flashed his STI-negative printout at the graffiti-covered door, slipped Lena twenty bucks. She was a vision—towering at 5’10”, raven locks cascading over fishnet-clad curves, lips painted blood-red. “Room 312, stud. She’s primed and waiting. Make it intense.”
The tunnels echoed with muffled gasps and rhythmic thumps. His boots scuffed against damp concrete, heart hammering as he twisted the knob to 312.
Chapter 2: Shadowed Temptation
The room smelled of musk and candle wax—low lights flickering off black velvet walls. There she was, through the massive glory hole carved in the dividing partition. Lower body only, Isabella’s voluptuous form thrust toward him. No sheet this time; she was bare, glorious from the start.
Tan skin glowed under the amber glow, her ass a masterpiece—plump, heart-shaped globes perched high, divided by a shadowed cleft. Long, athletic legs stretched out, feet arched with crimson-painted toes curling in anticipation. Blonde waves peeked through the hole from her upper half, but her face remained a mystery on the other side.
Marcus dropped to his knees, breath ragged. The scent hit him first—warm, earthy honey mixed with a hint of salty arousal. He traced a finger along her inner thigh, feeling the quiver ripple up to those jiggling cheeks.
“Fuck, touch me already,” came a husky voice from beyond the wall, laced with need. Not shy. Demanding.
His hands claimed her. Palms cupping those heavy mounds, kneading the firm yet yielding flesh. So soft, like heated silk over steel. He spread them slow, unveiling her treasures: a puckered rosebud, dusky pink and twitching, guarding the path to her slick, swollen folds below. Juices glistened, dripping in lazy trails down her thighs.
“You like what you see, huh?” Her tone teased, hips rocking back an inch.
“More than like. It’s fucking perfection.” Marcus leaned in, nose brushing her crack, inhaling deeply. That intense aroma flooded him—ripe peach with a tang of sweat. His cock strained against his jeans, begging for release.
A new scene burned in his mind: this wasn’t just a quick lick. He’d make her beg. Starting with her feet, those elegant arches calling to his hidden fetish. He gripped one ankle, lifting her sole to his lips. Tongue flat against the ball, lapping upward in slow drags.
“Oh shit… yeah, right there.” Her moan vibrated through the wall.
Chapter 3: Tongue’s Fierce Assault 💋
Marcus devoured her foot like a starving man—sucking toes one by one, nibbling the heel until she bucked. Salty skin, faint lavender lotion lingering. But he craved higher. Releasing her leg, he buried his face between her cheeks, nose pressing into her asshole as his tongue speared her pussy.
She tasted divine—tart nectar coating his mouth, clit throbbing under his assault. He sucked it hard, fingers parting her lips wider. Slurping sounds filled the room, wet and obscene.
“Goddamn, your tongue’s intense,” she gasped, voice breaking. “Deeper, fucker. Eat that cunt like you mean it.”
He obliged, plunging in, chin slick with her gush. But his true obsession winked above— that tight star begging attention. Marcus pulled back, strings of her juice connecting his lips to her hole. He spat on her anus, watching it clench, then circled the rim with his tongue tip.
She froze, then shoved back. “Yes! Rim me, you dirty bastard. Make it nasty.”
Intense heat surged through him. He dove in, tongue probing, stretching that virgin-tight ring. The texture—rubbery, pulsing—drove him wild. He alternated: broad licks from pussy to ass, sucking her clit, then French-kissing her shithole with sloppy fervor. Her cheeks smothered him, sweat-slick and quivering.
Flashback hit mid-feast: Tia at the bar last week, whispering, “Lena’s girls come back for more. One’s got an ass that’ll ruin you.” Was this her? Or some stranger whose body was built for worship?
Her first orgasm crashed—thighs clamping his ears, asshole spasming on his tongue. “Fuuuuck! I’m cumming!” Squirt hit his chest, hot and endless. He lapped it up, grinding his bulge against the floor for friction.
New twist: A vibrator hummed from her side. She threaded it through, buzzing against his cheek. “Use it. Stuff me while you tongue.”
Marcus grinned, sliding the thick toy into her sopping pussy, twisting as he reamed her ass with abandon.
Chapter 4: Raw Depths 🔥
The tunnels pulsed with distant screams of ecstasy, but in room 312, it was war. Marcus fucked her with the vibe, high-speed relentless, while his mouth latched onto her asshole—sucking, licking, even nipping the rim until she yelped.
“Harder! Stretch my dirty hole,” she demanded, voice raw. Her tan cheeks flushed red from his grips, handprints blooming like badges.
He added fingers—two to her pussy alongside the toy, curling to hit that spongy spot. Her body convulsed, asshole dilating wide. Intense pleasure gripped him; this was beyond fantasy, primal ownership through the wall.
Sensory overload: Her musk clogged his nostrils, pussy juice smeared across his beard like war paint. Taste exploded—musky-sweet ass mingling with creamy arousal. Touch: her flesh molding to his every squeeze. Sounds: wet smacks, her guttural grunts echoing.
“Spank me! Punish this fat ass,” she growled.
Crack! His palm connected, ripple traveling through her globes. Again, harder, until they glowed. She pushed back, grinding her crack on his face, suffocating him in bliss. He bit a cheek, drawing a hiss, then soothed with laps.
Pulling the vibe free, dripping, he eyed her gape—pussy fluttering open. But no penetration for him; rules were clear. Instead, he fisted his cock free, stroking slow while tonguing deeper. Spit gathered, lubing her backdoor for his probing thumb.
“In! Finger my ass, now!”
One knuckle, then two. Tight, hot velvet milked him. She shattered again—body thrashing, squirting arcs soaking his shirt. “Holy shit, intense… don’t stop!”
New scene unfolded: Lena’s voice crackled over intercom. “Five minutes, lovers. Finish strong.”
Marcus ramped up—three fingers in pussy, tongue swirling ass, jerking furiously. Her cheeks clenched, trapping him as orgasm number three ripped through her, asshole puckering wildly.
He rose, aiming. Thick ropes painted her crack, dripping down her thighs, pooling on her rosebud. She wiggled, smearing it like lotion.
Chapter 5: Forbidden Encore
Panting, Marcus smeared his load across her cheeks, thumbing cum into her asshole. It winked greedily, sucking the digit halfway. “Mmm, mark me good,” she purred.
But he wasn’t done. The wall had a latch—semi-anonymous, Lena said. Curiosity burned. He flipped it quiet, the partition sliding an inch. Enough to glimpse her upper body: full C-cups heaving, nipples pierced, blonde mane tousled. No face yet.
“Come around,” she breathed. “I need more.”
Heart exploding, he circled to her side. The room mirrored—mirrors everywhere, reflecting infinite asses. She knelt, legs spread, cum-glazed rump arched high. Now full view: Isabella, mid-20s stunner. Piercing green eyes locked on him, lips swollen from biting them.
“Recognize the voice?” Tia stepped from shadows, smirking. Wait—no, this was Isabella, neighbor from his building. The one who’d bent over in yoga pants, ass taunting him through the laundry room.
“You?” he choked.
“Surprise, bartender boy. Tia’s intel was spot on.” She grabbed his shirt, yanking him down. “Now fuck my face while I taste myself on you.”
Marcus straddled her chest, cock sliding between her tits—soft, pillowy traps. She sucked the head, tongue delving for her own ass flavor. Crude slurps, gagging deep. “Choke me with that meat. I want it intense.”
He thrust, balls slapping her chin. Her fingers plunged her pussy, scooping cum to feed herself. Then flipped—69 on the grimy rug. His face back in paradise, tongue scooping his seed from her hole while she deepthroated him.
Dialogue flew filthy. “Your ass is my drug—gonna eat it daily.” “Promise? Stuff my shithole next time.”
Climax built rocket-fast. He flooded her throat, she squirted on his neck. Collapsed in tangle, bodies slick, tunnel air cooling their fever.
Chapter 6: Lingering Flames
They dressed slow, exchanging numbers under flickering lights. Isabella’s tan legs trembled as she stood, ass cheeks bearing his bruises like trophies. “That was no ordinary glory hole romp. Intense doesn’t cover it.”
Marcus nodded, tasting her still—peach musk etched on his soul. Outside, city rain slicked the streets, but his fire raged on. Tia texted: “Good boy. Round two next week?”
Back home, replaying every quiver, every spank echo. He stroked to the memory, cum splattering his abs. But now with a name. Isabella. His building’s siren.
Days blurred into obsession. Laundry room stare-downs turned heated—her bending lower, winking that perfect cleft through tight shorts. “Coming to the tunnels?” she’d whisper.
Next Friday, room 312 again. But no wall this time. Lena grinned, handing keys. “Private session. Own it.”
Inside, Isabella waited nude, oiled ass gleaming. “Fuck me proper. But rim first—make me cum on your face.”
He pounced, spreading cheeks wide. Tongue invasion renewed—deeper, with fists clenching globes till they purpled. She rode his snout, grinding asshole to nose. “Eat my shit, lover. Deeper!”
He did, probing miles, as she fisted her pussy to ruin. Squirt after squirt, drowning him. Then bent her over the hole, cock slamming home—not ass yet, but pussy gripping like a vice.
“Next time, my backdoor’s yours,” she vowed mid-thrust.
Orgasms layered—his balls emptying deep, her walls milking every drop. Collapse in sweat, hearts syncing.
New conflict brewed: Lena wanted video. Exposure risk. Marcus weighed it—worth the thrill? Isabella kissed him, tasting mutual sin. “We decide together.”
The tunnels called eternal, their intense bond sealed in flesh and fluid. No end, just endless hunger.
Up the dim halls, moans chased them. Marcus glanced back, Isabella’s ass swaying hypnotic. This was just beginning. 🔥
Their story simmered, raw edges sharpening with each secret meet. Tia’s parties fueled fantasies—group rims, ass trains whispered. But for now, private rapture ruled.
Weeks on, building tension peaked. Laundry tussle: her hand down his pants, jerking him while he fingered her crack. “Home. Now.”
His apartment, door slamming. She stripped, perched ass-up on his bed. “Claim it fully.”
Lube slick, cockhead nudged her rosebud. Inch by torturous inch, breaching. Tightest heaven—rippling walls hugging him.
“Pound my shithole! Make it gape!” Crude cries fueled his slams, balls slapping cheeks.
Intense finale: her anal orgasm milked him dry, creampie oozing as she pushed back. Taste test followed—him scooping, feeding her.
Entwined till dawn, bodies wrecked. “You’re mine,” she murmured.
The glory hole sparked it, but reality burned brighter. Tunnels or not, their filth was forever. 💋
