Saturday, March 28, 2009


Had a day in Sydney mid-week. I kinda had the urge to do something stupid. That became clear when I was walking along Oxford Street. I passed a guy, 30ish, dirty-blond curls longer at the back, tanned, big hands - the kind of looks you would expect from an in-shape ARL fan. As I walked away from him I had a vivid picture in my mind of having him on the other side of a glory hole, of backing onto his dick, getting royally fucked and taking his load, no questions asked. The feeling stayed with me for the rest of the morning.

By lunchtime I couldn't hold out any longer and headed up to Signal. Not much life there, nor at the other club up the street. There were a few new faces when I went back to Signal an hour later. One guy in shorts and black t-shirt looked me over as I walked around one side of the cubicles. He wasn't pretty but it was a confident stare and he looked as if he knew what he wanted.

I took one of the middle cubicles. Blackshirt took one beside me. His dick was hard when he put it through the glory hole. He was a bit over average length but thick, and hard. I took him in my mouth. He quickly started skull-fucking me. This went on for a few minutes until throat-slime started to form.

That did it. I stood up, dropped my shorts completely, turned round and pushed the head of his dick against my arse. He didn't need persuading. Once the tip was lodged in my hole he pushed steadily until my arse relaxed and he was able to slide it all the way in. I pushed my arse back hard against the partition as he started fucking me, slowly at first then faster and harder. My mind was racing. Taking raw dick through a glory hole is extra high risk: you can't tell the guy not to come, you can't tell when he's going to come. And this was Sydney. But I wanted to keep getting dicked.

I had mentally just about adjusted to the idea I was going to have to take his load when he pulled out and whispered something through the hole. He was asking if I wanted to go to a room. I nodded yes, pulled my shorts back on and followed him along the corridor.

Turned out the guy was American rather than an Aussie. He stripped, pushed me onto my knees and had me suck my arse juice off his dick before getting me to bend over the squab so he could push his dick back into me. When I asked he said he was neg. He fucked me a few minutes from behind then put me on my back so he could do me missionary style. He was a talker, calling me a slut and stuff. His dick stayed rock hard. I could feel every stroke, especially as he lifted the tempo and started banging on every stroke. He had chosen the cubicle with a mirror ceiling so I could watch his fat dick going in and out of my arse.

Eventually he told me I was going to take his cum. A minute later he gasped and stiffened, slowed and then pulled out. I reached down, expecting all his cum would be deep inside me. Nope, there was a slug of it covering my arselips, warm and gluey. I lay there fingering myself as he dressed, slapped me on the arse and left.

I've been thinking about it a lot since. The memory of it makes me horny. Yet it seems even stupider now than it did at the time. There's a good chance any load you take through a glory hole in Signal will be poz, and I can't be confident the guy was telling the truth. After some years of being consistent about not taking loads I can see myself saying fuck it and just taking loads, accepting the risk. Which would be real stupid.

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