“The Secret Hotel” (Part 1 – Glory Hole Awakening)
Alex had always been the kind of guy who secretly craved submission. He was 25, living in a small apartment in a big city, working freelance jobs that brought neither money nor satisfaction. In the evenings he would spend hours on chats and forums dedicated to BDSM and gay communities. He loved fantasizing about completely surrendering to someone, becoming an object of desire, with no control over the situation. Submission turned him on more than anything — the thought of being used, no names, no faces.
One evening while scrolling through Tinder and Grindr, Alex came across a profile belonging to a guy named Max. Max’s photo was mysterious: dark eyes, a confident smile, and a hint of dominance. The profile description read, “Looking for obedient guys ready for adventures. If you love to submit — message me.” Alex couldn’t resist and sent, “Hey, I love submitting. Tell me what you have in mind?”
They started chatting. Max was older, 32, and worked as a manager at a very unusual place — a private hotel on the edge of the city that looked like a regular motel from the outside but was known in certain circles as a “secret club.” Max explained that the hotel had special rooms with “glory holes” in the walls — places where any guest who wanted anonymous sex could use the person on the other side. “You seem like the perfect fit,” Max wrote. “If you’re interested, I can get you in for a trial. Good money, complete anonymity. Just submission and pleasure.”
Alex felt a rush of adrenaline. This was exactly what he had been dreaming about. They met at a café a couple of days later. Max was tall, muscular, with an authoritative gaze. He took charge right away.
“Are you ready to give yourself up completely? No questions?”
Alex nodded, heart pounding. Max laid out the rules: Alex would be a “staff member” in one of the rooms. Through the hole in the wall, any male guest wanting anonymous sex could use him. No names, no cameras, just pure submission. Pay was based on the number of “clients,” plus tips.
“It’s not for everyone,” Max said, stroking Alex’s hand, “but if you love being on the bottom, you’ll fall in love with it.”
The next day, Alex arrived at the hotel. The building looked ordinary from the outside, but inside it was a maze of dimly lit corridors with soft music. Max led him to a room: small, with warm lighting, a bed, and a wall with a round hole at waist height. “Undress and wait. Your first client is already on the way,” Max ordered. Alex obeyed, feeling excitement mix with fear. He knelt by the wall, and soon he heard footsteps on the other side.
The first time was thrilling: a hard, demanding cock appeared through the hole. Alex took it in his mouth, following the stranger’s rhythm. No words, only moans from the other side. It ended quickly, and Alex heard money being pushed through the slot — a tip. Five more came that evening. Each time was a new sensation: different sizes, different paces, but always complete anonymity. Alex felt utterly surrendered, a tool for someone else’s pleasure. By the end of the shift he was exhausted but more aroused than ever. Max was waiting in the hallway.
“Well? Did you like it?”
Alex smiled. “Yes… this is exactly what I wanted.”
From then on, Alex became a regular “employee.” He worked three evenings a week, earning more than he ever did freelancing. The money went straight to his account — $200–300 per shift, depending on the flow. But the real reward was the pleasure. He fell in love with the anonymity: not knowing who was on the other side, simply obeying, giving himself up. Sometimes Max would come by to “check,” and those encounters became personal — Max dominating, tying Alex up or making him serve. But the glory hole work was his secret addiction.
A few months passed. Alex had changed: he became more confident, happier. He even started saving for trips. “You’re my best find,” Max would say, kissing him after a shift. Alex knew it wouldn’t last forever, but for now — this was his world of submission, money, and secret pleasure. And he loved it. A lot.
____________________________________
“The Birthday Gift” (Part 2 — Public Offering)
A few weeks had passed since Alex had fully immersed himself in the hotel’s life. He had grown accustomed to the rhythm of his shifts, to the sensation of complete surrender through the wall, to the steady stream of money now flowing into his account. Max had become far more than just a manager to him—he was a true Dominant who knew every one of Alex’s weaknesses and how to wield them perfectly.
One evening, Max sent Alex a short message:
“Tomorrow is Friday. It’s going to be a special night. Wear black shorts and a white sleeveless tank top. Be at the sauna by 9:00 p.m. Don’t be late. That’s an order.”
Alex felt the familiar rush: a mixture of fear and arousal. He knew Max loved surprises, and he never asked unnecessary questions.
The sauna was located in the basement of the same hotel—a private complex with a steam room, a relaxation lounge, showers, and one small “playroom” featuring a floor-to-ceiling mirror and a soft mattress on the floor. When Alex arrived, the group was already there: six men, all between 30 and 45, all friends or acquaintances of Max. They lounged in light robes or simply towels wrapped around their waists, drinking beer, laughing, talking about football and work. The atmosphere was relaxed, yet there was a subtle undercurrent of tension—everyone knew there would be a “show” tonight.
Max met Alex at the entrance. He was wearing a black robe, his hair still damp from the steam room. He took Alex by the chin and made him look up into his eyes.
“Tonight is my friend Sergei’s birthday. He’s turning 35. I decided to give him something special. You. But not just privately—right in front of everyone. You’re going to be his gift. Completely. Understood?”
Alex nodded; his throat had gone dry. He could already feel his body responding to those words.
Max led him into the playroom. There was only the mattress, a low table with water bottles and lube, and that massive mirror. The door was left wide open. Everything happening inside would be clearly visible from the steam room and the lounge.
Max raised his voice so the others could hear.
“Guys, listen up. Tonight is Sergei’s celebration. I’ve prepared a gift for him. Here he is—my obedient boy, Alex. Sergei, he’s all yours. Do whatever you want with him.”
The group responded with approving murmurs. Someone whistled, someone raised a beer bottle in a mock toast. Sergei—tall, broad-shouldered, with a short beard and tattoos covering his shoulders—stepped forward. He gave Alex a predatory but not cruel smile.
“Thanks, Max. Excellent gift.”
Sergei pushed Alex down onto his knees right on the mattress and dropped his towel. He was already hard. Alex felt every pair of eyes in the room lock onto him—some men sat on the couch in the lounge, some stood in the doorway, some still sipped their beer, but no one looked away.
Sergei stepped closer, grabbed Alex by the hair, and slowly guided his cock into Alex’s mouth. Alex obediently parted his lips and began working his tongue, feeling Sergei swell even more inside him. Quiet comments floated around the room.
“He takes it well…”
“Max has trained him good…”
“Deeper, birthday boy…”
Sergei wasn’t in a hurry. He stood confidently in front of Alex, legs slightly apart. His cock was thick and veiny, about 18 centimeters long, fully erect, curving slightly upward, with a smooth, glistening head that throbbed with arousal. The skin was tanned, lightly shining with sweat, and at the base grew short, coarse hairs that tickled Alex’s chin when he got close.
Sergei held Alex by the hair—not roughly, but firmly—guiding his mouth. When the cock first entered, Alex tasted it: salty, with a subtle musky undertone, like a blend of clean male sweat and the precum already leaking. The scent was intense but not off-putting: warm, animalistic, mixed with traces of cigarette smoke Sergei must have had earlier, and a faint woody shower-gel note—something like sandalwood. That smell enveloped Alex, making everything feel more real, more intimate, despite the audience.
Alex wrapped his lips around the shaft, feeling how it stretched his mouth. The girth was impressive, about 5 centimeters in diameter at the base, tapering toward the head that glided perfectly over his tongue. The sensation was overwhelming—warm, pulsing, the veins like raised ridges under thin skin that Alex could feel with his lips. Sergei moved rhythmically, slowly pushing in halfway, giving Alex time to adjust, then deeper, into the throat, where Alex fought his gag reflex, focusing on breathing through his nose.
Every so often, Sergei pulled out completely—the cock slipped free with a wet sound, shiny with saliva—and Alex could take a deep breath, feeling cool air on his lips mixed with the salty aftertaste. In those moments, he looked up. He saw Sergei gazing down with a satisfied smirk, and behind him the other six men calmly watching. Some sat with beer in hand, legs crossed; some stood with arms folded. Their stares burned against Alex’s skin. He felt like an exhibit in a museum: naked, on his knees, face flushed, lips still parted, Sergei’s cock hanging in front of him, ready for the next thrust. The vulnerability, being the object of desire and casual commentary, sent shivers through him. “Look how well he takes it… Deeper, go on…”—the quiet remarks made Alex blush harder, but he didn’t stop.
Then Sergei slid back in—deeper—making Alex swallow him fully, tongue working along the entire length, feeling the head press against the roof of his mouth. The sensations built: mouth filled, throat stretched, saliva dripping down his chin, constant pressure sending waves of heat down Alex’s body. He moaned softly; the vibrations traveled along Sergei’s length, and Sergei sped up just a little, savoring every movement, every squeeze of Alex’s lips. Being watched turned the moment into something endless, the perfect act of submission.
After a few minutes, Sergei lifted Alex, turned him around so his back faced him, and positioned him on all fours facing the mirror. In the reflection, Alex saw his own face—flushed, lips wet—and behind him Sergei slowly applying lube. The room fell quiet; everyone watched intently.
Sergei entered with one long, smooth but confident thrust—slowly, so Alex could feel every centimeter. The wide, hot head first parted the tight ring, then the shaft followed, stretching Alex from the inside with almost tangible pressure. Alex arched sharply, spine bowing, abs tensing, and a low, trembling moan escaped his throat—not loud, but so genuine it echoed through the room, making several viewers freeze mid-sip.
Sergei paused for a second, fully buried, letting Alex adjust to the fullness. The cock was thick, hot, throbbing—Alex could feel it swelling even more, veins pressing against his inner walls. The smell of sex already hung in the air: musky, salty, mixed with lube and sweat. Sergei leaned forward slightly, chest almost touching Alex’s back, hot breath scorching his neck.
Then the real thing began.
Sergei didn’t rush, but every thrust was deep, powerful, controlled. He pulled out almost completely—only the head remained, teasingly stretching the entrance—then drove back in to the hilt with a soft slap of hips against ass. Each full plunge drew a short, broken sound from Alex—a mix of moan and whimper—his body rocking forward, knees sliding on the mattress, fingers clawing at the fabric.
The mirror opposite turned it all into live porn.
Alex saw himself—flushed face, parted mouth, sweaty hair plastered to his forehead, eyes half-closed from overwhelming sensation. He saw his own cock, hard and dripping precum, swaying in time with the thrusts, untouched, twitching with every deep internal impact. He saw Sergei behind him—broad shoulders, tense biceps, abs rippling under skin with each movement, sweat droplets running down his chest and stomach in shining trails.
Sergei gripped Alex’s hips tightly, fingers digging into flesh, leaving white marks that quickly reddened. He pulled Alex back onto himself with every thrust, forcing him to take it deeper, harder. The pace gradually built—not frantic, but intense, rhythmic like a metronome: thrust—pull—thrust—pull. Each time Sergei bottomed out, Alex felt the head hit that most sensitive spot inside, sending flashes of heat through his entire body, from tailbone to fingertips.
Alex could no longer hold back—his moans grew louder, broken, almost pleading. “Ah… yes… deeper…” slipped out in a quiet whisper, but loud enough for Sergei to smirk and growl back in a low voice, “That’s it, boy… take it all…”
The spectators were no longer just watching—they were breathing heavier. Someone set their beer aside, someone adjusted their towel to hide an obvious erection. Comments became rarer but harsher, “Look how he’s leaking…”
“Max, your gift’s gonna come hands-free…”
“Come on, Seryoga, fuck him properly…”
Sergei picked up the pace just a fraction—thrusts shorter now, but sharper, each impact resonating deep in Alex’s lower belly, making him tremble. Sweat poured down Alex’s back in streams, dripping onto the mattress. His arms buckled; he nearly collapsed chest-first onto the mat, ass raised higher, opening himself even more. Sergei leaned over him, one hand wrapping around the back of Alex’s neck—not choking, just holding, asserting control—and continued pounding deep, rhythmic, relentless.
Alex felt everything inside clench, orgasm building in waves—not from any touch to his cock, but purely from this complete, deep filling, from the knowledge that he was being used in front of everyone, that he was the center, the object, the toy. He moaned louder, almost cried out, when Sergei slammed in especially hard once more and held still, pressed tight, pulsing inside.
“Come if you want,” Sergei whispered hoarsely, not moving but continuing to press against that exact spot.
And Alex came—sudden, without warning, body shaking, cum spurting onto the mattress beneath him, inner walls clamping down so hard around Sergei’s cock that Sergei growled with pleasure. Sergei held for a few more seconds, then started moving again—fast, hard, chasing his own release.
When he came, it was powerful; one deep thrust, a low groan, and hot jets filling Alex to the limit. Sergei slowly pulled out, steadying Alex by the hips so he wouldn’t collapse. His cock glistened, coated in a mix of lube, cum, and sweat. Alex remained on all fours, breathing heavily, still trembling, knees wide apart, feeling the warmth slowly leaking out of him.
The mirror showed everything mercilessly beautiful: flushed, sweaty body, red finger-marks on his hips, glistening lips, half-lidded eyes—and absolute, profound satisfaction on his face.
Sergei leaned down, ran a palm gently along Alex’s back, and said quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “Best gift ever. Thanks, Max.”
_______________________________
“The Birthday Gift” (Part 3 — Circle of Desire)
Alex was still sitting on the mattress, the towel carelessly draped over his shoulders, his breathing only just beginning to even out. In the relaxation lounge the low hum of voices continued: someone cracked open a fresh bottle, someone cracked a joke about how Sergei had “warmed up” in five minutes flat. Max stood nearby, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, watching Alex with that familiar half-smile that always meant, “I know exactly what’s going on in your head.”
Alex lifted his gaze. His eyes were shining, cheeks flushed, something hot and insistent pounding in his chest. He reached for Max, wrapped his arms around his waist, rose onto his knees and pressed his lips close to Max’s ear.
The whisper was quiet but crystal clear, “Max… I want… the others too… please… let them all…”
Max froze for a second. Then he asked softly, almost lip-to-ear, “You sure?”
Alex nodded quickly, several times.
Max straightened up and announced, “Guys. Listen up. Our boy isn’t done playing yet. He just asked me to let all of you join in. We start with two—Dima and Vlad, you’re first. Do whatever you want with him, but take your time. He says stop—everything ends immediately. Clear?”
Dima and Vlad exchanged glances and stepped forward.
Dima—stocky, muscular, 38 years old, buzz cut, heavy gaze, broad shoulders, tanned skin glistening with sauna sweat. His cock was already hard—16 cm, thick, with a prominent central vein that throbbed visibly.
Vlad—35, tattoos on his forearms (a dragon and geometric patterns), lean and athletic, dark hair, predatory smile. His cock was longer—19 cm, straight, the smooth head already gleaming with precum.
They dropped their towels at the same time. Scents mingled: Dima’s heavy musk laced with tobacco, and Vlad’s fresh, almost citrusy aroma.
At first, Dima stood in front, took Alex by the chin.
“Open that mouth, baby. Show me what you’ve got.”
Alex parted his lips, and Dima’s thick cock slid in slowly, stretching his mouth wide. The salty taste of sweat and arousal flooded his tongue. Alex worked his lips and tongue along the vein, feeling it pulse under the pressure.
Vlad dropped to his knees behind him, spread Alex’s thighs, applied lube, worked his fingers inside, stretching him open.
“Already slippery from Sergei… perfect,” Vlad murmured, then pushed in with one smooth stroke—his long shaft gliding deep, pressing right against Alex’s prostate. Alex moaned around Dima’s cock; the vibration made Dima growl.
“Yeah… just like that… take it deeper.”
They started moving in perfect sync: Dima thrusting into Alex’s mouth, Vlad into his ass. Every thrust from Vlad drove Alex forward, forcing him deeper onto Dima. The rhythm was flawless—fullness from both sides, heat, pressure, the overwhelming sensation of being completely filled.
After a couple of minutes, Dima suddenly said to Vlad, “Let’s flip him. I want to feel that ass.”
Vlad smirked. “Good call.”
They pulled out in unison. Alex let out a soft whimper at the sudden emptiness. Dima and Vlad grabbed his hips and shoulders, spun him 180 degrees—now Dima was behind, Vlad in front. Alex was skewered between them like a pig on a spit: on all fours, trapped between two powerful bodies, utterly exposed.
Dima immediately pushed into his ass—the thick cock stretched the ring even more intensely than before, the pressure borderline overwhelming, but that edge was exactly what made Alex arch and moan louder. Vlad grabbed him by the hair and guided his mouth onto his long cock:
“Now suck me while Dima pounds you.”
They synced up again—perfectly, as if they’d rehearsed it. When Dima drove deep into Alex’s ass, Vlad pulled almost all the way out of his mouth; when Vlad pushed into his throat, Dima withdrew. Alex rocked back and forth between them like meat on a spit: his body swaying, Dima’s cock slamming against his prostate, Vlad’s sliding over his tongue and down his throat, saliva dripping from his chin, sweat running down his back.
“Feel how we’re skewering you?” Dima rasped, slapping Alex’s ass cheek.
Alex could only moan around the cock in his mouth—his eyes screamed, “Yes… more…”
Vlad leaned in closer, gripping his hair.
“You’re so fucking hot inside… suck harder, baby, I’m close.”
The other three watched, breathing heavily. Anton was already stroking himself through his towel.
“Fuck, look how he’s bouncing between them… gorgeous.”
Roman nodded. “They’re gonna split him in half…”
The pace quickened. Dima and Vlad moved faster, but still perfectly synchronized—one thrusting in as the other pulled out, one pulling out as the other thrust in. Alex felt the orgasm building uncontrollably: his prostate burning with every slam from Dima, his throat working at its limit, his whole body trembling from sensory overload.
Suddenly Dima growled, “Coming… right now…”
Vlad answered almost at the same instant, “Me too… hold on…”
They buried themselves simultaneously—as deep as possible. Dima in his ass, Vlad in his mouth. Alex felt hot jets flooding him from both ends at once: powerful pulses inside, the salty taste flooding his mouth, throbbing heat spreading through his entire body.
That was the final trigger.
Alex came without a single touch to his own cock—sharp, convulsive, his body shaking violently, cum spurting onto the mattress beneath him, his inner muscles clamping down so hard around Dima’s cock that Dima groaned, “Oh… fuck… he’s squeezing me…”
Vlad held Alex’s head firmly, not letting him pull away until he’d finished. Dima pressed tight from behind, emptying the last drops.
They slowly withdrew. Alex collapsed chest-first onto the mattress, breathing hard, his entire body glistening with sweat, cum dripping from his chin and down the insides of his thighs. He looked completely used—and utterly satisfied.
________________________________________
“The Birthday Gift” (Part 4 – Cards, Cash, Three Cocks)
The three men didn’t waste any time. The arousal had already crossed every boundary—the air in the sauna was thick and heavy with the scent of sweat, lube, and raw male lust. Anton, Roman, and Misha exchanged glances and, without a word, decided exactly how they would take Alex in this final round.
Misha lay back on the mattress, spreading his legs wide. His cock was the biggest in the group—25 centimeters long, thick along its entire length, with a massive pulsing vein and a broad, mushroom-shaped head already glistening with precum. It looked both intimidating and mesmerizing at the same time. Misha gripped it at the base with one hand, pointing it upward, and patted his stomach.
“Come on, bring him here. We’ll sit him all the way down.”
Roman and Anton lifted Alex by the hips and shoulders—he was light, pliant, completely relaxed after everything that had already happened to him. They positioned him over Misha and slowly lowered him. The huge head pressed against his entrance, then Alex felt himself being impaled—very slowly, centimeter by centimeter. The thickness stretched his ring to its absolute limit, almost to the point of pain, but Alex only arched his back and let out a long, broken moan.
“Oh… fuck… it’s huge…”
When he was fully seated—all 25 cm buried inside—Misha wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist and yanked him down hard by the hair. Alex fell backward, landing with his back against Misha’s chest and stomach, head thrown back, mouth open from the overwhelming fullness. Now his body was completely exposed: legs spread wide, ass raised, Misha’s enormous cock deep inside, filling him to the brim.
Anton stepped between Alex’s spread legs, applied more lube to his 17-centimeter cock and to the already maximally stretched hole. He pressed the head right next to Misha’s thick shaft and began pushing in—slowly but insistently. Alex cried out—this was beyond the edge: two cocks at once in his ass, one of them gigantic. The walls trembled, gripping both shafts so tightly that the pressure sent waves of heat and overload rippling through his entire body.
“Two cocks in one hole… and one of them like a fucking log… feel how we’re splitting you in half?” Anton rasped, starting to move in short, deep thrusts, syncing perfectly with Misha from below.
Misha held Alex by the hair with one hand, the other wrapped around his chest, pressing him even tighter against himself.
“Yeah… squeeze us… you’re so fucking tight around my huge one… take it all, boy…”
Roman stood over Alex’s thrown-back head—his heavy 20-centimeter cock hovering right above his face. He grabbed Alex by the chin, forced his mouth open wider, and slid in with one long, confident thrust—straight down the throat. Alex gagged, tears streaming down his cheeks, but he didn’t fight it. Roman began fucking his throat slowly and deeply, all the way to the base every time. In the thrown-back neck, it was clearly visible how Alex’s Adam’s apple rose and fell with each thrust: when Roman went all in, a massive bulge appeared under the skin, sliding down the throat, then rising back up as the cock retreated. The sight drove all three of them wild—they groaned at the view of 20 cm disappearing completely into Alex’s throat.
“Look at that Adam’s apple moving… he takes every inch… like he was made for this,” someone murmured quietly among the onlookers.
They fucked him like that for about ten minutes—in three cocks at once. Misha and Anton in his ass: Misha’s thick 25-centimeter monster created constant, overwhelming fullness, while Anton added friction and extra pressure, their cocks rubbing against each other inside, stretching Alex to the impossible. Roman in his throat—rhythmic, deep, holding him by the hair so his head couldn’t move. Alex rocked between them, body swaying in time, moans turning into muffled gasps and whimpers. Saliva poured down his chin in rivers, sweat streamed over his body, his ass burned from the double—and one gigantic—penetration.
Finally Roman growled, “Coming… swallow it all…”
He slammed all the way into the throat and started unloading—powerful, hot jets straight down the esophagus. Alex’s Adam’s apple jerked several times in quick succession, swallowing convulsively. Roman slowly pulled out, leaving the mouth open, strands of cum and saliva hanging from the lips.
Anton immediately took his place—he pulled out of the ass, moved to the head, and slid into the mouth, still wet and slick from everything before. Now only Misha remained in the ass—his gigantic cock continued pounding from below with powerful, deep thrusts, every time to the hilt.
Misha sensed Alex was right on the edge. His own cock throbbed inside, but he decided to bring the boy off his way. With one hand he wrapped around Alex’s hard, precum-slick cock and started stroking it—slowly at first, then faster, squeezing at the base and sliding his palm along the full length. His other hand kept gripping Alex’s hair, holding him pressed tight.
“Come for me, baby… come on… show me how you come on my huge cock,” Misha growled, speeding up his hand.
Alex trembled harder—the double penetration in his ass, Misha’s enormous cock pressing every sensitive spot, and now the strong hand jerking him off in a fast rhythm. The sensations fused into one unbearable wave. He started moaning louder, even with Anton’s cock in his mouth—muffled but desperate.
After a couple of minutes Misha felt Alex tense inside—the ass muscles began rhythmically clenching around his thick shaft, milking him, squeezing out every drop of pleasure.
“Yes… just like that… milk me with your ass… come…”
Alex came hard, convulsively—cum spurted in powerful jets across his own stomach and chest, body shaking in spasms, inner walls clamping down around Misha’s cock so tightly and rhythmically that Misha couldn’t hold back. He roared loudly, “Oh… fuck… he’s milking me… coming…”
His enormous 25-centimeter cock pulsed inside, flooding the ass with hot, abundant spurts—so much that Alex felt the warmth spreading deep, overflowing him.
At the exact same moment Anton came in his mouth—sharp, short bursts, unloading the last thick jets down his throat.
They slowly pulled out. Alex remained lying on Misha, chest heaving, mouth open, cum leaking from his ass in thick streams down his thighs, chin and neck streaked with white. His whole body trembled with fine shivers, eyes glassy, but his face was frozen in an expression of pure, animal bliss.
Misha gently stroked Alex’s side, still catching his breath.
Max approached, knelt beside them, tenderly wiped Alex’s face with a towel, leaned in and kissed his temple, then his lips—slowly, deeply.
“You took them all. Three cocks at once… and one of them the biggest. You’re incredible.”
Alex managed only a faint smile, voice barely a hoarse whisper, “…more… someday…”
Max chuckled softly, running fingers through his damp hair.
“Definitely. But now—rest. You’ve earned it more than anyone.”
