Gloryhole Studio New York – Clean White Wall & Golden Booth: His Thick Daddy Cock Slides Through, I Suck Him Dry, Shoot My Load All Over It & Lick Every Drop Until He Pumps a Massive Load Down My Thro
- 10 minutes ago
- 4 min read
It was a humid Thursday afternoon in New York City, the kind where the subway air feels thick and sticky. I headed straight to the Gloryhole Studio in Manhattan – one of those discreet, well-kept spots in the West Village that gay guys whisper about. Paid the entry fee, grabbed the key for booth #9, and walked down the dimly lit hallway. The faint smell of bleach, poppers, and fresh cum hit me immediately. Perfect.
The setup was exactly as advertised online: On the giver’s side (the “top” booth), everything was spotless white – bright, clinical white walls that made every cock look even thicker and harder when it came sliding through the perfectly round gloryhole. No graffiti, no stains, just clean, inviting white canvas waiting for action.
On my side – the sucker’s booth – it was all luxurious metallic gold: shimmering gold walls reflecting the warm LED lights from above and below, full-length mirrors on both sides so you could watch yourself working, black tiled floor easy to wipe down. A soft padded kneeling cushion waited right in front of the hole. I locked the door, stripped down to nothing but my socks, dropped to my knees and waited. My cock was already leaking, throbbing in anticipation.
Less than ninety seconds later – a soft knock from the other side, zipper sound, and then it appeared.
Through the clean white wall pushed a massive, veiny daddy cock – easily 8 inches, thick as a beer can, slight upward curve, dark red swollen head already shiny with pre-cum. No foreskin left, fully retracted, thick ridges of veins pulsing under the skin. Heavy balls hung low and he pushed them right up to the hole too. From the other side came deep, gravelly breathing – definitely an older guy, maybe mid-40s or 50s, real man, real need.
I started slow. Tongue flat against the underside, dragging from balls all the way up to the slit. Salty, musky, pure man taste. He jerked hard upward instantly. I wrapped my lips around the head, sucked gently, swirled my tongue around the sensitive ridge. Then deeper. Inch by inch until my nose almost kissed the white wall. The gold booth lights bounced off his wet shaft – looked straight out of hardcore porn.
“Fuck yeah… take it all, boy… choke on that dick,” a low, commanding voice growled through the partition.
I obeyed. Sucked harder, let spit run down the shaft, jerked him with my hand while relaxing my throat. My own cock was dripping nonstop onto the floor, aching. I stroked myself in rhythm with his slow thrusts – he started fucking my face gently, hips rocking forward.
The whole scene was driving me insane: his fat cock emerging from that pristine white wall like it owned the place, me kneeling in the golden glow, watching in the mirror as my cheeks hollowed out, spit strings hanging from my chin. I was way past the edge.
With a muffled groan I pulled off just enough, jerked myself frantically – and exploded. Thick white ropes shot out, splattering right across his shaft. Heavy strands landed on the swollen head, ran down the veins, dripped over his balls. My cum glistened bright against his dark skin, slowly sliding toward the white wall behind.
“Clean that shit up. Every fucking drop. Now,” came the instant order.
I dove back in. Tongue flat, licking my own warm load off his cock, tasting myself mixed with his leaking pre-cum. Sucked the head clean, traced every vein, even licked his balls until they were spotless again. The mix of flavors – my cum, his musk, his pre – was filthy and intoxicating.
That pushed him over.
Suddenly a strong hand reached through the hole, grabbed the back of my neck – firm, dominant, not rough – and pulled me all the way down. Balls-deep. I gagged hard, eyes watering, but held it. He thrust once, twice deep – and then he erupted.
First blast was massive: hot, thick, shot straight down my throat. I swallowed desperately but it overflowed instantly. Second and third blasts filled my mouth completely, cum spilling from the corners, dripping down my chin onto my chest and the golden floor. He kept pumping – six, seven powerful spurts, each one accompanied by a deep, animal grunt. Cum everywhere: coating my tongue, running down my neck, pooling on my chest. I swallowed what I could, milked the last drops with my lips.
When he finally finished, he let go. His cock twitched a few more times, leaking tiny after-drops. I licked him tenderly clean, sucked the slit until he was soft and sensitive, then he slowly pulled back through the white wall.
A quiet “Good boy” drifted through, then silence.
I stayed on my knees another minute, breathing heavy, mouth and chest covered in his load, tasting him and me together, the golden light making every sticky trail shine. The white wall opposite was empty again – waiting for the next anonymous daddy cock to slide through.
New York Gloryhole Studio had delivered. And I was already planning my next visit.
End.
