My first Glory Hole...success...or just dirty all over?

So, after failing to find someone at the Glory Hole I knew about, I came up with a bold plan.

Some might call it foolhardy, some might call it dangerous, but I finally decided how I could ensure that I would get to pet a penis in a hole.

The parks in my home area were ok by day, but at night tended to be places most sensible people would not want to visit. Fortunately, no one ever accused me of being sensible.

At night, many beggars will sleep in the parks, sometimes they are used by prostitutes (which may very well be why the one I had been visiting actually had a glory hole, since I am unsure if gay guys even met there), and sometimes people will even try to use the restrooms to cook meth. This is why most of them lock the bathrooms down at night, to prevent this type of activity. However, the park I had selected was not locked down at night.

I "borrowed" my dad's handgun and went down to the park. Sitting in my car, parked along the street near the restroom, I watched to see if anyone came in or went out. I watched for scary individuals. A couple times I almost completely lost my nerve, but since it seemed that, much like how the "active glory hole" was over-hyped, so too was the nighttime park activities. That helped calm me down and think about why I was here.

I did see someone sleeping on one of the benches, but he (she?) did not seem to be moving, so I assumed they had either passed out, or were asleep. Who knows, I didn't go over to check.

Trying to overcome my fear and build up my courage, I removed my panties from under my skirt, put them in my purse (remember, if you ever decide to try running around without panties, make sure you still have them so you can always find a bathroom or something to put them back on), then got out of my car and went to sit at one of the tables. I flushed slightly as I parted my legs and hiked up my skirt so that any passerby could see my pussy. It was intoxicating at first, but since it was late at night, no one ever got to take a peek at my naughties. I played with myself a little bit, helping to push down the fear and increase my lust, under the trees and softly glowing streetlights that did not completely illuminate me.

Finally I saw a man go into the bathroom. He seemed a bit unsteady. Assuming he was drunk, or a homeless park dweller, my fear rose again and I almost chickened out. I stood up, patted my purse to remind myself that I could take care of myself, and then walked over to the restroom on legs that felt more like water than flesh, blood and bones.

I stuck my head in to see if he was in a stall or at one of the urinals. I could see the top of his head over the second stall, with the sound of a steady stream of pee coming from him. So, drunk or homeless? Did it matter? What was the purpose of a glory hole if not to be anonymous?

The smell, as normal, was a little overwhelming, but by now instead of being disgusted by it, I was turned on by it. However, there was a ranker odor than normal. Perhaps the other guy was homeless and had not bathed for a while. I again almost lost my nerve then and there, but pushed myself to move on since I was, after all, already in the men's bathroom and was so desperate to try this, at least once.

I quietly opened the first stall door and slipped inside. I had read that you were suppose to stick your finger through the hole and wiggle to signal that you were ready to engage in glory hole activity. I proceeded to stick my finger through the hole and wiggle it around. It took a couple minutes before the man in the next stall even noticed.

"What the hell?"

This was not going so well. Was I doing this wrong?

I thought maybe I was suppose to move my finger back and forth, like we do when we are in high school, symbolizing sex, so I tried it.

"Who is in there!"

Hmm, again, this did not seem to be working. Then his eye appeared at the hole.

"What are you doing, get the fuck out of there!"

He stood up, trying to see me over the wall of the other stall. Since I was crouched near the hole, he was not able to see me. My throat had clamped shut, and I couldn't speak. Anyways, wouldn't that ruin the whole "could be another man, or grandma, or ..." part of the glory hole?

I took my panties out of my purse and held them up. I guess he knew it was a girl, judging by the panties and my slim arm holding them up, but I did not want him to see "me". Knowing that there is a girl in the next stall was one thing, having this person who's dick I was about to play with through a hole in the wall seeing my face was something completely different.

"What are you doing in there?"

His tone had calmed down, but he was really putting me off. It was either leave, which I really didn't want to do, since I did not want him to see me, or try to just stay against the wall, hiding, hoping he wouldn't try to climb over the wall, or get on with it. I was not sure I even wanted to get on with it, but it felt like I could not turn back now.

I tried to make my voice sound gruff, like how the girls trying to pretend to be guys do on TV. I doubt that it fooled him, but I also did not want him hearing my voice naturally. I was not even sure that I could do more than squeak, I was so scared by this point.

"You don't know what a glory hole is, idiot? Do you want me to suck your cock or not?"

I could hear him settling back on his heels, then unzip his pants. I guess he was not completely brain-dead.

His penis appeared through the hole.

"Then get on with it bitch"

I moved closer to it, and as I got closer the smell of sour sweat and cheap booze overcame me. I threw up, right there on the floor. I looked back at the penis impatiently waiting for me and thought of just running, then and there. There was no way he could catch up with me, and if he tried anything, I had the handgun in my purse.

Instead, I found a wet wipe and wiped down what I could of his penis.

"What the hell are you doing! You suck with your mouth, dumb whore!"

This really was not going well. Here I was, some drunk, reeking guy expecting me to suck him off while the floor of my stall was covered with my own puke. I heaved again, not bringing up anything since my stomach was now empty.

I slowly touched my tongue to the tip of his penis, lightly flicking it. It was too much, I couldn't do this. Instead, I started giving him a hand job. At first he protested.

"You are suppose to use your mouth, you filthy whore, not your hand."

Eventually, his protests subsided until he finally stopped protesting at all. I stroked his shaft up and down, pumping vigorously. Not wanting to do anything fancy, just jerk him off and get the hell out of there, I made short work of it. Soon he came all over my hand, leaving it all sticky. Pulling his rapidly softening penis out of the hole, he staggered out of his stall, out of the bathroom, and soon I was unable to hear him at all.

I hid there, not wanting to touch anything, wanting nothing more than a scalding hot shower to wash away his stink, his cum, his everything.

Eventually, I was able to have a more pleasant encounter.