[Inspired by real events, and real individuals, it’s still largely ‘fictional’ as far as people, times, and places. But I dedicate it particularly to swallow4u! Enjoy!]

Dean and I had first come across one another through a web-site dedicated to networking glory holes all across the country, and we’d almost met up twice, but each time he had to cancel for various reasons (the first time had been a bad winter storm). He’d had to cancel two other times after that, and I began to get a little frustrated it. After that we hadn’t been in contact at all, and I figured that nothing was ever really going to ‘come of it’ (pun intended, of course), and then one morning, from out of the blue, I found an email notice saying that someone had contacted me through that glory hole networking site; and when I opened it, it was from Dean!

He started out by apologizing for not having been in contact for so long, but, that things had changed in his life over the intervening ten months, or so, and he was hoping I was still interested in getting together with him for some glory hole fun. I felt a thrill start to course through my groin area as I read those last words—and I sent him a reply stating that I was ‘very interested’ in that!

The next step was to find a day and a time to meet up. He lived in a small town almost exactly an hours drive south of where I lived. I didn’t really like small towns like the one lived in (too many rednecks, etc.), but I really wanted a blow job, and, as my father used to say: ‘A stiff dick has no conscience.’ What my father had been referring to was pussy, and he would have been less than thrilled to know that his only son had grown up to be something of a fag (or, at least that’s likely how he would have defined me), but the comment was certainly very true; and the idea of Dean sucking my cock (and swallowing my load of cum) did indeed make my cock stiff!

He told me that he had a new job, and that getting together like that would be complicated by his hours. But, once every other weekend (either Saturday, or Sunday), he’d be home. So we worked the best time for him, and that was that.

The Saturday I drove down there was a cold, but bright and sunny, late January. The further south I drove, the more excited and antsy I became; but that was really part of what I loved about glory hole experiences—the initial uncertainty and nervous excitement; and that day proved to be no different from the others I’d known in that regard!

Google Maps led me right to the very street and house where Dean lived. He’d said in our last exchange that I’d know the right house because of several big, full-dress Harley’s, would be in the front drive way; and as I got closer, sure enough, I saw the bikes setting there, leaning on their kick-stands, and gleaming in the Winter sunlight.