I had been hearing the rumour for months. No one knew quite how it started. No one could say definitively that they were the first. No one seemed to really know much of anything, other than a time and a place.
I work in one of those thirty-storey office buildings that shoot out from the heart of Lagos. A friend of an acquaintance first told me the story.
There was a section on the second floor of the basement car park where it all happened. It required you to duck into a short, narrow maintenance passage that led into a storage area.
Much of the building had been completely renovated almost ten years before, and this area was said to be part of the old design that could not be reworked. In the back of the storage area, past all the clutter and mostly forgotten tools, parts and supplies was a door.
At one time, that door served as a reception for delivery vans. With the new layout moving the delivery van to a more convenient location, it became just another door. That is until it all started.
From all the rumours I had heard, it must have been going on for months. As time went on, it became harder and harder to find anyone who had not heard the rumours, and the number of men who claimed to have actually visited the area increased rapidly.
But their accounts were generally weak, the location vague, and hardly any two stories sounded similar, so I had my doubts. But the stories intrigued more than just my brain.
It happened on Wednesdays and Fridays every single week, so the stories went. It started at 5:30 and went on until it finished. Some men were regulars, some one-timers there to see if it was real, and some chickened out at the last minute, afraid of the entire ordeal.
Men would gather just inside the entrance of the storage area, and wait quietly. The men behind acted as watch for the men before them, ensuring no security guard or maintenance man came their way.
One by one, they would make their way to the back, to the single old door with the six-inch-high, one-foot wide mail slot. Like a makeshift glory hole, they would hand eight thousand Naira through the slot.
If it was accepted, and from the tales, it was never declined, they would drop their trouser and push their cocks through the opening, and let however was on the other side take care of them with the best blow job any of them had ever had.
As I said, I had my doubts. The whole thing sounded too much like a crazy urban legend: office slut blows anyone for money. No one knew who was on the other side. The room beyond was always dark, and no part of the person’s body was ever seen.
The door was always locked, too, and even though a few men had lingered around to try and catch their benefactor, there was obviously a secret way into the room that was being used. And as for the best blow job ever, well, I already had a few spectacular ones myself.
Over the few weeks that followed, I only gave thought to that old door when it was brought up. I tried to concentrate on the daily grind of a dull job.
Now that I had heard the story, however, I realised that almost every day I could overhear someone whispering excitedly about the experience. My curiosity peaked as the legend started taking on reality. I tried to continue to dismiss it, but my male drive and neglected cock started to think otherwise. The final determination was made when I was sitting in one of the building’s shops and overheard two men talking.
”I’m telling you, it was incredible.”
”Nah, you’re kidding me. No one does that.”
”Well someone sure as hell does. I’ve been there twice now. The second was even better than the first. What this chick can do with her mouth and throat, it’ll blow you away.”
”Throat?”
”Yeah, she deepthroats. The last time, the guy in front of me had a nine-inch cock. He said when he thrust forward, he could feel her nose touch his pubic area.”
”No way!”
”And the best part, after it’s all done, you can hear her swallow.”
Swallow. Despite the best blow jobs of my life, no chick had ever swallowed. That was enough for me. That same afternoon, I tracked down my acquaintance’s friend and got the details.
Standing in the noisy, dirty storage room with exposed piping and cables the following Thursday with six other men at 5:30 at night, a few things occurred to me. The legend may not have been as widespread as I had originally thought.
After all, a few thousand Naira for the best blow job ever, with no strings attached, seemed like a piece of heaven to me. Where the room should have been full of men, there were just the seven of us. But, men are men.
As crude and horny as we are, many of us are just as full of piss and wind. When push comes to shove, many look for the door out.
As I stood around in silence and waited, I also could not help but wonder if some men did not use this fantastic resource for the very reason that flashed through my head; what was on the other side of that door? Fantasy dictated it should be a gorgeous woman, but it could just easily have been a hideous woman, or worse, a man.
As I forced that possibility out of my head as I looked around and saw the other men looking at me and gesturing towards the back of the room.
I was the new guy, and they were giving me the first go. I hesitated a moment and looked to the exit, but the man gestured me on. I recognized a few of them, who worked for the same company as me.
The rest no doubt worked for the other businesses that occupied the building. None of them spoke, and I somehow doubted that any of them would speak of this to me outside of this room. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward.
I tried to peer into the slot, but beyond the rim was only darkness. Whoever was in there would be completely anonymous. My acquaintance’s friend went over the routine, so at least I knew what to do. I took the money out of my pocket and passed it into the large hole. Almost immediately I felt fingers brush my own as the money was accepted. From the brief touch, I couldn’t tell for certain if they were male or female. They felt soft and supple, so that had to make them female…
I had to make a conscious effort not to look back as I undid my belt and pants. I pushed them and my boxers to my ankles in one go, allowing the tails of my shirt to cover my ass from the view of the men behind me.
Shuffling a few inches forward, I placed my hands on the wall for balance and deciding it was now or never, thrust my semi-hard cock into the hole.
A hand wrapped around my cock as quickly as it had taken the money from me, and slowly began to pump me up and down. My cock quickly stiffened to full hardness from the sheer eroticism of the moment and I tried not to moan.
I was not prepared for what happened next. I gasped out loud and nearly lost my balance as a warm, wet mouth swallowed me all the way to the hilt, my benefactor’s nose brushing my stomach. I’m not a huge man, certainly no nine inches, but at seven, and a decent girth, I had never known anyone woman to swallow me to the hilt so easily and on the first attempt.
The mouth held me there for several seconds. My knees shook as I tried to look down, to catch some glimpse of a face, but I couldn’t without falling backwards. With a wet plop, the mouth pulled completely free, only to plunge down once more.
This time, a tongue reached out and tickled my balls. I jerked, doing my best to keep my place and enjoy every sensation as the mouth, throat and tongue of the person on the other side of the door worked over my cock the way no one had ever done before.
The head began to move up and down my cock, sometimes pulling out to lick the sides of my shaft or suck at my balls, but never once using a hand to help. It was magical to me the way the throat constricted every time my cock was plunged into it, squeezing and milking as it begged for my cum. The sensations shot through my cock and into the rest of my body.
I could feel my skin burn as the electricity rushed through me.
Only for brief moments was my cock ever not completely engulfed, and those moments were as painfully sensuous as the deep-throating itself. The tongue was everywhere, tasting every part of my cock as the lips moved up and down on my shaft.
As the mouth pulled back, the tongue would slide around my cock head, swirling it rapidly before gently trying to push itself into my pisshole. The new sensation would last only a moment before I was swallowed again.
There was a rhythm to all of this that I was not completely aware of, at least not consciously, as each drawback and plunge was accompanied with delicate movements and pressures of the mouth and tongue.
My cock was aware of it, though. Each time the nose brushed my stomach, and the tongue lapped at my balls, I tightened and drew that much closer to cumming.
By now I was moaning, completely oblivious to the men behind me as the mouth demanded my entire attention. It wasn’t long before I could take no more. My balls tightened and my cock swelled. The mouth must have sensed this as it started to rapidly bob back and forth on my cock. I groaned and grabbed at the walls for support as the first blast erupted from me. I was only halfway inside, and my cum must have quickly filled the mouth.
It waited as I groaned and twitched and emptied myself, even using the lips and tongue to milk the cum from my cock as the mouth sucked. With a wet plop, the mouth pulled free, and I almost fell again when I heard the sounds of swallowing.
I don’t know what I would have paid at that moment to have watched it happen. When it was all gone, the mouth returned, warm and reassuring as it gently sucked the remaining beads from my softening cock. The tongue licked my empty balls for a final time and the mouth pulled away.
When I was certain that it would not return, I shuffled back and weakly pulled up my pants with shaking hands. I didn’t even glance at the man next in line who hurried up to the door, nor at the men, I staggered past on the way out.
Stepping back out into the parkade, I tucked in my shirt and straightened my tie, and headed for my car knowing full well I would be back.
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