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Oh Glory

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Frederick dragged his fingers across his cheek, collecting the cum that striped his face (and hair) from the previous… patron. He dragged his cum-coated fingers across his tongue, the bitter salt taste flooded his taste buds and elicited a moan from him.

It was strange, he was a well-respected psychiatrist and ran his own hospital and yet… nothing compared to this: kneeling on a grungy, dim-lit bathroom floor, sucking strangers off with the only reward being a cum-coated face. The lack of commitment and intimacy was also a rather high reward, he supposed.

He dragged his fingers out of his mouth, moving back to sit on the toilet and rolling the one-ply toilet paper around his hand to clean his face for the next cock. That’s all they were to him and he enjoyed not knowing who was on the other side. It meant he was allowed to let his brain wonder, fabricating an image in his head of what the other man looked like. His ideal man.

In reality, he knew most of the men wouldn’t come close to how he imagined them and that was fine because he knew he wouldn’t come close to their imaginations either.

Two calloused fingers slipped through the hole and without hesitation he moved to kneel, taking them in his mouth and licking along the length of the man’s fingers. The finger-pads were rough against his tongue and he moaned softly around them, sucking and slurping loudly - more for the man’s benefit than his own. Frederick pulled away with a ‘pop’, nipping gently at the fingers before sitting back on his heels, wiping away the saliva dripping down his chin.

The sound of the man’s buckle and zipper filled the empty bathroom, bouncing off the walls and floors. Excitement and anticipation overtook him as he stared expectantly at the hole, waiting for the man’s pink tip to poke through, coated with pre-cum and hard. Just the mere thought of it had him growing hard, trousers growing uncomfortable.

There was something exciting about having men come undone from his tongue and mouth alone, or teasing them until they were begging him to come. There was also a pride and power thing to it too, he supposed. Whatever it was - it drove him back to the glory hole every Saturday night from eight to nine.

An almost-animalistic noise tore through him when the man’s hard cock pushed through the hole and he took it in his hand, his other hand flattening against the partition to keep himself steady. Frederick leaned down to drag his tongue across the underside of the man’s cock, licking up his pre-cum before sucking the tip into his mouth.

He dropped his hand to his crotch and pushed forward, inch-by-inch taking the man into his mouth until the tip hit the back of his throat, and he struggled not to gag. His nearly non-existent gag reflex was one point of pride for him when it came to this type of work. Though it had taken work to train himself not to gag when anything, but especially a cock, was shoved nearly down his throat.

Frederick paused and allowed himself to take in the feel of the man’s thick cock resting hot and heavy on his tongue. A hum starts up from the back of his throat and a sense of satisfaction overcomes him when the sounds of the stranger’s hand thumping against the partition fill the bathroom.

His own hand, still pressed against the partition, curled slowly into a white-knuckled fist, and his other fumbled with his belt buckle and zipper to get to his own cock. A low moan sounded from the other side of the partition as he pulled away with an over exaggerated pop and smack of his lips.

The man’s cock bumped against his mouth, smearing pre-cum across his lips, and he parted them to flick his tongue against the head. He let his jaw go slack and allowed the stranger to fuck in and out of his mouth slowly, before building up to a steady speed. Saliva dripped down his chin and his eyelids fluttered shut, his hand tightening around his own cock and beginning to pump in time with the man.

Frederick moaned around the man’s cock, the thrusts becoming erratic and almost desperate, and his own movements began to fall into an uncontrolled pattern as he came closer to the edge. The man’s bitter, salty cum coats his tongue and he pulls away, letting the stranger paint lines on his face, while he pushes himself over the edge.

The man retreated from the glory hole and Frederick heard the sliding of the lock, and the creak of the door opening and banging shut. His shoulders slumped and he pressed his forehead to the partition, listening to his own ragged breathing and the man’s footfalls as he retreated from the bathroom.