The First Visit Curiosity Wins

This is about how an Indian boy become lilly in a fourin land

My name is Rohan. I’m nineteen years old, studying in a large European city, far from the conservative world I grew up in. I have warm medium-brown skin, a slim frame, soft features, and thick black hair that falls just past my ears. My body is smooth, and my ass is round and plump something that always made me feel strangely exposed whenever I caught my reflection. On the outside I was the dutiful son. Inside, I was burning with a secret that had consumed me for months.
It began with porn. Straight videos at first, until one night I clicked on something different a guy on his knees, mouth stretched around a thick cock, eyes glassy with submission. The way he looked so completely used, the wet sounds, the moment the man came down his throat… my own cock had throbbed harder than it ever had before. After that, I couldn’t stop. I watched gloryhole videos obsessively. The anonymity, the darkness, the complete surrender of being nothing more than a mouth and a hole for strangers it made my stomach twist with shame and my cock ache with need.
I started fantasising about being that person. Not in some clean, romantic way but filthy, anonymous, degraded. The idea of walking into a gloryhole club, locking myself in a booth, and letting faceless men use my mouth without ever seeing my face became an obsession I couldn’t shake. Eventually I found The Velvet Door online a discreet, members-only club with private booths and gloryholes. I told myself I was only looking. I told myself I would never actually go.
But the hunger grew louder every night.
One rainy evening I finally stopped lying to myself. My hands trembled as I showered and dressed in ordinary clothes a hoodie and jeans so no one would look twice at me. My heart hammered the entire train ride. Every stop made my stomach flip. What if someone from my college saw me? What if I lost my nerve at the last second? Yet the image of a stranger’s cock pushing through a hole kept flashing behind my eyes, making my own cock leak into my underwear. By the time I reached the club, I was already half-hard from nothing but shame and anticipation.
The entrance was hidden, almost invisible. I paid in cash with shaking fingers and received a black wristband. The bouncer barely glanced at me. “Booth 7,” he said. My legs felt unsteady as I walked down the narrow, dimly lit corridor. The air was heavy with the thick, unmistakable smell of sex sweat, musk, and dried cum. From behind closed doors came wet, rhythmic sounds and low male groans. My cock twitched violently in my jeans.
I slipped into booth 7 and locked the door behind me. It was small and private, lit with low red light. A padded bench ran along one wall. Two gloryholes were cut into the opposite walls, each covered by a sliding panel. The floor felt slightly sticky under my shoes. I sat down, breathing fast, my cock now fully hard and pressing against my zipper.
I waited, every second stretching out. My mind raced with filthy thoughts. What am I doing? A good boy from a good family, sitting in a dirty gloryhole booth waiting to suck cock like a cheap whore. The humiliation made my cock throb harder.
Then the left panel slid open.
A thick, dark cock pushed through. It was heavy, semi-hard, the fat head already glistening with a bead of precum. The shaft was veiny and warm-looking, the skin smooth and dark. It carried a strong, masculine scent musk and arousal. My mouth watered even as a wave of shame crashed over me.
I was really doing this.
My hand shook as I reached out and wrapped my fingers around it. The heat of it surprised me. It twitched against my palm, growing thicker and harder as I stroked it slowly. I leaned in and dragged my tongue across the head, tasting the salty-sweet precum for the first time. A low moan escaped me. I opened my mouth and took the head inside.
The warmth, the soft skin stretched over rigid flesh, the way it filled my mouth it was overwhelming. I sucked gently at first, swirling my tongue, then took more, bobbing my head. Thick strands of saliva ran down my chin. The man on the other side groaned and pushed forward, fucking my mouth. I gagged when it hit the back of my throat, eyes watering, but the shame only fuelled the fire between my legs. I was on my knees in a filthy booth, choking on a stranger’s cock like a desperate slut. My own cock was leaking steadily into my jeans.
He didn’t last long. He thrust deep and came, thick hot spurts flooding my mouth. The taste was strong and bitter. I swallowed on instinct, some of it spilling from the corners of my lips and dripping down my chin. The humiliation of swallowing a complete stranger’s cum hit me like a wave. I moaned around his softening cock, feeling filthy and used.
I sat back, breathing hard, face hot. I had just sucked my first real cock and swallowed the load. I felt degraded. Pathetic. And painfully aroused.
But I stayed
The right panel opened.
Another cock appeared longer, lighter in colour, already rock hard. I turned without hesitation and took it into my mouth. This time I sucked with more hunger, using my tongue, drooling messily. The man fucked my face, using me. When he came he pulled back and painted my face with thick ropes across my lips, my cheek, even into my hair. The warm cum on my skin felt degrading and intensely erotic. I licked what I could reach, tasting more of it. It already felt like a filthy bukkake multiple anonymous men marking my face and mouth.
The left panel opened again.
A third cock, the thickest yet, pushed through. I licked it all over before sucking it deep. It stretched my mouth wide and made my jaw ache, but I loved the heavy fullness. The man fucked my throat roughly, making me gag and choke, thick saliva dripping everywhere. When he came he pushed all the way in and unloaded straight down my throat. I swallowed every drop, feeling like a true cum-hungry whore.
One final cock appeared on the right.
I sucked it with total abandon, lost in the overwhelming mix of tastes, smells, and the raw feeling of being used by faceless men. It felt exactly like a degrading bukkake gangbang multiple strangers taking turns with my mouth and face. When he came I swallowed again, my own cock throbbing uncontrollably.
I couldn’t hold back any longer. I yanked my jeans open and stroked myself once, twice and came hard, shooting thick ropes into my underwear. The orgasm ripped through me, intense and shameful, triggered by everything I had just done.
I sat there panting, face sticky with cum, pants soaked with my own load. The strong taste of strangers’ cum lingered in my mouth. I felt filthy, degraded, completely used and more turned on than I had ever been.
I cleaned up as best I could with tissues, but the smell and taste stayed with me as I left the booth. The bouncer gave me a knowing look on my way out. Outside, the cold air hit my flushed face. My legs were weak. My mind was spinning with what I had become in that booth.
At home I jerked off again and again, replaying every humiliating detail the taste, the stretch, the warm loads on my face, the feeling of being nothing but a cocksucking slut for anonymous men. I was addicted. I was a desperate, eager sissy for cock.
And this was only the beginning.