From Fantasy to Reality

Hello lovely readers. Forgive the introduction, and feel free to ignore.

This is my second story. I was blown away by the positive reaction to my first, so thank you. I'm very much a novice when it comes to creative fiction, so it's been a huge boost to me. I feel very lucky to have been given so much kindness.

This story starts very different - it is actually the result of a bet, when someone bet me I couldn't write a story about a glory hole and make it romantic.

It IS very romantic, if you can read beyond chapter one, but to make it believable, I had to give the characters a start and a motivation. So I took a risk and put them all in the Romantic category.

But I hope you will fall in love with the characters as much as I did. I've written all the parts to this (which are each around the five thousand word mark) so I promise I won't keep you waiting too long for the rest.

###

It was a road she had taken many times.. The road between work and home. A half hour drive which, one day, would change her life.

Jessica used to enjoy the road home for many years. Her husband Terry and she were an "opposites attract" couple. She was shy, hard working, serious. He was laid-back, charming, visionary.

As soon as they could, they bought an old farmhouse, and the first years of their marriage were working hard to renovate it. Terry set up a YouTube channel to document his endeavours.

The mortgage and the materials - and the contractors, when Terry realised he had neither the skill nor the dedication to do much of the work - were crippling them financially, and as Terry had insisted his full time job was "building the channel", Jessica worked long hours in her financial firm. The road back home was an escape, even if there was hard work there too.

Over the years it had become a friendship rather than love. And then not even that. Terry's YouTube channel was less and less about the house and more and more about his opinions and beliefs, and he never got a big audience. And Jessica couldn't help wondering what he did all day.

She quietly suppressed her feelings of inadequacy when her husband's sex drive seemed to all but disappear. She felt unattractive, frustrated, but "marriage has its ups and downs" as her mother said. She felt a tickle of desire when men she met showed interest in her, but she was "not like that". But there were times when, neglected and frustrated, she wanted to be.

The weight of the burdens she bore were added so incrementally, that she barely noticed how heavy her life had become. She suppressed her pain at not being able to have children, and her quiet despair when her husband didn't want to adopt.

As the years wore on, it became the journey to work that she looked forward to, where she was motivated, looked up to, treated with respect, and flirted with. It was the journey home which became the depressing one, back to a man who no longer wanted her looks or her personality, who seemed to resent her success at work, who lived off her earnings but complained about the corporate world that produced the money he so freely spent.

All this was manageable. She managed it. She the worker, he the stay-at-home husband. Although she seemed to have to do all the housework.

Until the day she got a text from "a friend" - a number she didn't recognise and which no-one answered. A number that gave her some links to her husband's dating profiles on apps, and swingers websites.

The next few months were pain and grief. She kept the house, and he got a lump sum from her which would buy him a house. Her mortgage increased vastly, but she could handle it, especially without him to drain the accounts.

She had no doubt he would be fine. He had friends and his parents were rich.

But it bit into her that while he found her unattractive, he was spending his time with other women. She had kept herself faithful and bottled up so many desires and urges for his sake. If she had ever made a financial investment in the same way as she made a romantic one, her firm would have gone bust.

Their final meeting was when he decided to "have some honesty between them". And it was brutal.

"You were always miss goody-two-shoes" he said, packing his final bag. "You've turned into your prude of a mother, and a corporate slave"

"You didn't mind me slaving away as long as it got you your money."

Terry sniffed. This was a well-rehearsed argument by now. "You're always so safe. Fine. Stay safe, stay good, say boring and cold. Much good it may do you. You've no ideals Jessica, you're just living a life that you don't enjoy and you don't know why."

She thought of many things to say to him then, but she never said them. She wanted to tell him that she didn't enjoy her life because of him, because of his indifference to her. She would love to live life, but her time was spent tidying up his messes, his half-finished projects, and his free spending.

But she said none of these things. There was no point. In a way she was grateful to him. That final conversation showed her that it would be wrong to persist in the marriage. Showed her that it had been wrong for a long time.

As soon as he left the house, and the door shut for the last time, a flood of rage washed over her. So many lost years, so many needs unfulfilled, so much loneliness, so many things which she locked away. All for nothing.

And so two months before her thirty eighth birthday, Jessica was single, independent, and cripplingly lonely.

She kept busy. She had plenty of friends, she played tennis and ran, she joined a local choir, she worked hard. But the journey home was a journey into a yawning loneliness which twisted her up.

###

"You should date, Jess" said her friend Cathy. "You're the best looking of the lot of us. Can't you see how the guys look at you?"

Jessica had known Cathy since University. And Jessica knew on some level that Cathy was right - men did look at her. She was petite with a good figure, even though she was always jealous of Cathy's cleavage. But when she looked in the mirror these days, she saw someone who used to be pretty, not someone who was pretty now. She always had that celtic far-away look in her eyes, which was good for photos, but not necessarily good for dating. And she had a complete inability to laugh at jokes that weren't funny, or tell people they were impressive when they weren't, or hide when she was bored. Dating had always been a nightmare.

"Men will shag anything. It doesn't mean I'm good looking Cathy."

Cathy laughed "Yes, but despite the fact that you give the biggest "fuck off" vibes, they still look at you. I would kill to have that body. You're a beautiful woman Jess."

Jessica sighed. "The thing is, Cathy. Terry and I hadn't had sex for years. Seriously, the last time was when I was thirty. I've... kind of got out of the habit."

"What a idiot that man was. He was a creep, you know, always letching after us."

"I know that now. I kind of wish you had told me before."

Cathy held Jessica's hand "We did babe. We tried to tell you. But you were in love, you weren't in the mood to hear it."

A tear escaped Jessica's eye. "I'm sorry. I should have listened to you."

"You're strong Jess, you will bounce back. Which is why you ought to try dating again. Get back in the game before..."

"Do you think I want to end up on the kind of dating apps that Terry was using? I'm not looking for more creeps in my life Cathy. Besides..."

Cathy saw a look in her friend's eye. She was hiding something. "Besides what Jess?"

Jessica took a deep breath. "It takes a toll on you, being... unloved. You kind of escape into your own fantasy world. And... I like it there. I'm not sure the real world might measure up."

"Well now's your chance to find out. What's stopping you?"

Jessica said nothing. The fact was, the thing that was stopping her, was her.

###

Her occasional sessions with her counsellor were sporadic, and sporadic was all Jessica could cope with. Exposing the reality of her situation sometimes helped clarify things, but it didn't change it.

"The thing is," she said, not looking at her counsellor, who rarely looked at her. "All those years of not getting any... attention, my sexual desire didn't go away. It just went into some, erm, niche feelings."

For the first time in that session, her counsellor showed interest.

"Niche feelings..."

Jessica nodded. "When your husband doesn't think you're attractive, you tend to believe him. So I guess in my fantasies I went to places where being attractive isn't the key thing."

"Such as..."

Jessica thought. This was her innermost thoughts, and she wasn't by nature a sharer.

"Like... having sex with strangers in anonymous places. Or perhaps being in charge, so.. so men do what I tell them to do. Or... men who want to... use me. Or, sometimes going back to my first time and imagining it was different, better."

"And what is it about these things that makes you feel aroused or elated?"

Jessica thought hard about this, both before she answered and also in the car on the way home.

"It was partly how wrong it might be. I've spent so much of my life being good, and that was making me feel miserable. So in my fantasies I want to be bad."

###

There was only one route to and from work. And there was only one petrol station on the way home, with a small shop where she could buy essentials. She passed it every day, and filled up once a week. All very routine.

"Pump number two?" said the young man at the counter, ringing through the milk and bread and bottle of wine she had bought in the shop.

Jessica nodded, watching the muscles that filled the arms of his t-shirt as he scanned her items. He must be new here, she didn't recognise him. The last guy was middle aged, bored and had body odour that you could smell from the door. She felt bizarrely ashamed of the meagreness of her shopping. It screamed "lonely and single".

He caught the blush in her cheek. "Long day at work?"

"They're all long days."

Will (according to his name badge) rang up the fuel and the shopping on the till. "So what do you do? Miss...?"

"Jessica. Jess. I work in finance."

"Wow, brains as well" he smiled again. His face looked like it was made to smile.

Jessica took the shopping and left.

But that night, as she cooked, her wine going down slowly, her mind went back to that young man. Cathy's words rang in her head. "Men look at you". Was this younger man showing an interest?

"Brains as well" she mused.

"Oh you are so pathetic" she said out loud to herself. "So starved of attention that a smile from a good looking boy gets you excited." She could her querulous maiden-Aunt in her voice, and she didn't like it.

She watched a little TV, until the bottle of wine was half finished. "Enough of that" she thought. Drink was a vice she had seen play too often in lonely people.

Lonely people. She was one of them now.

In bed, unable to sleep, her mind wandered.

Her body felt that familiar tingle, and her fingers idly touched the lower half of her tummy just above her panties.

I wonder if he's got a girlfriend. I wonder if... if he was flirting with me.

Her fingers moved a little lower.

The next few minutes were lost in a gentle slow-moving whirl of images, a few moments when she was taken out of herself, and she imagined all the things she often imagined, anonymous sex, blindfold sexual encounters, men tied to her bed, or her tied to it. Only this time the man doing it to her was young and strong and tall, like the guy at the petrol station Her fantasy made her go places she could imagine but never live out, do things she would never do and it felt delicious.

Before she knew it, her hips were lifting, her breath shuddered and she felt the wetness on her fingers. Bliss enveloped her for a short time, as she lay back in the glow of orgasm.

The warm embrace stayed with her. She wasn't a frigid bitch like her ex-husband had said. She was a sexual being, warm, and wanting.

She slept dreamlessly, and woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in days.

Going to work, then home, past the same petrol station, she wondered occasionally if that young man was there. Each night, her thoughts moved towards familiar fantasies, but now her fantasies had a focus. A muscular body like his doing dirty things to her, the danger and forbiddenness of them making them more enticing.

On the Friday, when she packed her desk to go home, she couldn't supress a slight feeling of excitement in the pit of her stomach. Her car was nearly on empty and she needed to fill up the tank.

He was there. Same smile, same welcome. He probably did this with everyone. But as she got her fuel and her shopping, his warm voice spoke.

"Jessica right?" Jessica blushed a little. His voice sounded sexy saying her name.

"Gosh I'm impressed. You must have a good memory to remember all your customers."

He looked at her in a curious way. "I don't remember all of them."

Jessica felt that tingle in the pit of her stomach coming back to distract her.

###

This quickly became her pattern. A Friday evening she would fill up, and fuel herself with a little flirting from the young man, observing his body, his smile, wondering...

It was good for her to feel that someone at least thought she was attractive, she reasoned. Even if he was just a horny young guy.

This Friday, the Friday her life changed, might have been another simple trip to the station, but there was one thing which was different this time. One small incidental thing which changed Jessica's life.

Jessica needed to use the toilet.

She had rushed out of the office and had forgotten to go to the toilet before she set off. She had drunk too much coffee at her last meeting. And her house was far away enough for her not to be able to wait.

Will took the key from its hook behind the counter. "We have to lock it these days. It was being used for, erm, stuff it shouldn't have been used for" he explained.

"Drug users?" suggested Amanda, as they walked together.

"Not that." he said simply.

It was the first time she had seen him close, as he moved towards her. He was taller than he seemed behind the counter. He was very muscular without being a bodybuilder type, really a perfect physique. She could smell his deodorant. Her body started to tingle this close to him as they walked to the door. His arm brushed hers as they walked. He was so much taller, stronger than her. He could do things to her if he wanted that she couldn't stop. He unlocked the door.

"I'll wait for you outside so I can lock up" he said. She stepped through the door, where there were two inner doors, one labelled "Gents", and the other "Ladies". Stepping through Jessica found a single toilet.

She locked the door and sat down. The cubicle was grubby and old. She noticed on her right, there was a hole in the wall, about four inches in diameter. Slowly Will's words made sense. She knew what glory holes were. As she sat to pee, her on her thighs, she wondered. Someone right there, in this cubicle, on their knees, with someone on the other side...

She finished peeing, but sat, her thoughts wild. All those years of driving past this place and there were people... just anonymous people giving into their urges. Just like she fantasised about doing but never did.

The glory hole was big enough to see the male toilets beyond. That transgressive giddiness fired her imagination. And she imagined what might happen if Will had decided to step into the Gents instead of wait outside.

And then she heard it. The sound of a door opening and a belt buckle being undone.

She looked. It was obviously him. The same jeans. The same corporate t-shirt, being pulled up from his trousers. A flat, muscular stomach. A tight pair of boxer briefs. She knew she should look away. But she didn't.

He must have known. He must know she could see him. He all but told her what this toilet was used for. He must be able to hear her breathing next door. He would probably be able to hear her heart beating right now, it was so loud.

She saw his thumbs hook into the waistband of his black boxers, and down they went slowly, until a thick shaft emerged. Slowly, like he was teasing her, it was revealed, large, veiny, beautiful, dangerous. She took a breath.

All those images of her fantasy orgasms were flooding back into her. Did he tell her that story about the toilets on purpose? Was he waiting for her to put her hand through the hole? Would she kneel down on the same spot that so many women had knelt down before? Did he know she could see him?

His shorts were down now, his backside was firm and beautiful. His cock thick and heavy.

Jessica leaned over a little more to see him better, and fell on the floor, her knickers tripping her up. She gasped, and embarrassed, pulled up her knickers as quickly as she could and flushed the toilet, and out of the corner of her eye saw movement in the toilet next to her. She ran out, not wanting to talk to him.

Her head was a whirl as she left.

Something had changed.

This was no longer a fantasy. It was a possibility.

###

She shook her head. "A lonely woman's imagination" she said, and scolded herself for her delusion. That poor boy just wanted to go to the toilet, and she was gawping at him. Filthy.

As she went home to her tasks her head was hot, angry and aroused. Screw her life. Screw him, with his flirty smile, his hot body, and his thick enticing dick and screw her need to be transgressive and screw her fantasies of dirty anonymous sex with a boy she knew nothing about.

She sat down, gulping a glass of wine.

She reasoned herself away from this being anything other than her imagination. He had probably been working for hours without a break. He always had a bottle of water next to him. He must have just needed to go.

But.

"He didn't pee, did he? He just stood there. And let himself be watched."

Her body was in heat, and there was no denying her desire. Her legs parted and her hands answered her need. Her orgasm was quick and so intense she wasn't sure she didn't pass out afterwards. All that was in her head was him, demanding her body, demanding her orgasm.

She came several times that night. In the shower, in her bed, in the middle of the night when she woke up to a dream so vivid she had to persuade herself it wasn't reality. It was so wrong, to want a man half her age. It was so very wrong to be aroused by him like this. She didn't even know his last name, never mind anything about him. He might be a creep like her husband, just a better looking one. And a better endowed one... She scolded herself for being shallow and cheap. And every time she told herself it was wrong, something inside her strengthened, the desire to do something no-one would expect her to do.

###

On Saturday morning she sat down on her laptop and searched for information on glory holes. She was always a natural researcher, and if she was going to think about anything like this, she wanted to know what she was getting herself into. She expected, as had happened before, that the more she read up about transgressive things, the more dangerous and more unappealing they would turn out to be. She was going to talk herself out of doing anything rash. Her eyes were opened about many things, and she was glad her internet had enough controls for her to be able to destroy the browser history she was creating.

Not that anyone was around to question it.

She had learnt enough to know that she did not want to just go to an anonymous location. That just felt far too risky. And the thought of finding some boring old desperate guy with a smelly crotch and a pot belly turned her off so much she couldn't risk it.

But wasn't she the same? Boring old and desperate?

She decided that she would go back to the petrol station. And if things happened there, she would let them happen.

She spent the rest of the day on a run, then working on the now neglected garden, trying to get the nervous energy out of her system. On Sunday she had another listless morning in the garden, looking after Terrys over ambitious and long neglected vegetable patch. And then she went swimming. Then a coffee with a friend. Nothing touched the sides of her attention. Every activity that weekend was characterised by a fear, at what might happen if she did indeed go to the petrol station.

After her coffee with her friend, whose only talk was of children and schools, a sudden dread of realisation hit her.

She was actually going to go back. Tonight. She was going to do it.

She didn't need any fuel. But she could go in to buy something.

All the way there, as she got into the car, drove down the road, she was saying to herself how disgusting she was. Wanting something so grubby, so brazen. And the thrill increased.

Her head was down when she went in. It was busy.

Will saw her. He didn't smile, but nodded and said "Hey Jessica" in his quiet way. His eyes followed her. Jessica moved round the shop. She wanted to wait until there were no other customers.

It got quieter. She took a bottle of wine and went to the counter. He didn't look up this time.

She didn't look up either.

"I could do with... I'd like to go to your toilet if possible."

There was an achingly long pause. They were both still. If she ever had doubts, she knew now that what happened on Friday had not been her imagination. She looked up at him. His eyes washed over her, her heart beating fit to burst, her body tingling all over from her hair to her toes.

"Sure." he said.

Silently they went with the key to the back of the shop; Silently he turned the key and let her in. Silently they went into their separate cubicles.

Jessica sat down, her eyes fixed on the little hole in the wall.

He walked into her field of vision in that dimly lit, grubby toilet, for a dimly lit, grubby encounter. The same slow pull of his shirt revealing his perfect skin, flat stomach and the gentle curve of his abs. The same unbuckling of his belt, the clinking of it as he pulled the buttons apart on his jeans. The same slide down of his jeans, revealing his muscular thighs. And the same thumbs in the boxers, slowly moving down to bring into the open a thick member which made Jessica gasp quietly to herself.

He was fully hard, painfully hard, veins straining. "I did this" she thought. "I made him like this."

Her hand trembling, she put two fingers through the hole and withdrew them.

Nothing happened. He didn't move. She did it again.

Nothing. Maybe he just wants me to see him." She thought. "Maybe that's his thing. Maybe he likes being watched." Jessica felt a sob rising up within her. It had taken so much courage to get here.

She put her fingers through again, palm upright this time, and made a beckoning action. Finally he got it. And slowly, his body turned, and that fine, beautiful thick cock and those heavy balls, tightened in anticipation, moved towards the hole.

Into her world came this beautiful piece of manhood, into her space, his thick dick, wet with need, twitching and ready.

She had imagined this, forbidden and slutty and wrong and just Not Her. And the thought excited her so much that she was in a daze. She was about to become one of those women that did things that made people gossip. People who were talked about with sentences beginning "You'll never guess"... She knelt down on the dirty floor. She wondered if people in the shop would see her dirty knees when she walked out and guess what she had been doing.

Her fingers touched him, and his dick twitched. She heard a gasp through the wall. His was so much bigger than her husband, bigger than anyone she had been with. And so in need of her.

She stroked so gently with her fingertips that she could see his dick swelling, and she was worried he might come too soon. She wanted to feel his orgasm, taste it. She moved closer to the wall. Her knees must be visible to him under the divider. This dirty floor that had seen so many women do this terrible thing. Her breath was on his head as she moved closer. Her tongue moved to lick him gently. Again he made a gasp, that shuddering breath sound, a sound that she recognised in herself on those lonely nights in bed. Her lips found him, not wanting to give him the pain of too much anticipation, and his body pushed against the wall, desperate for her mouth. The gentle noises that were coming from him made her feel powerful.

She was mesmerised by the feeling. Without the rest of him there all she could concentrate on was his dick. She relaxed her jaw, and moved up and down, up and down, his breath getting visibly louder with each stroke and movement of his shaft. She moved at her own pace, not his. No hand to push her like her husband used to, no words to tell her to go faster. She was in charge of his orgasm.

She was locked into the slow movement, eyes closed, enjoying him, when her heard him bump against the wall "Jessica" he whispered throatily.

She sucked a little harder, pushed her head nearer to the wall. She silently begged him not to pull away. Her tongue moved against the underside of his shaft and his defences broke. She could feel his head swelling, so she pulled back a little until his head was in the middle of her tongue. And then pulse upon pulse as his orgasm hit him. His seed pumped into her mouth as her ears were full of his moans or pure pleasure from the other side of the wall.

She swallowed once, twice, three times. Still he was pulsing his come into her mouth. It was warm, salty and primal. She had not come. She had not even touched herself. But she felt a completeness that she had not felt for a long time, something she could not name but felt.

As he softened, she pulled away. Adrenalin was flooding through her now. She moved quickly, wanting to leave before he recovered. She was on her feet before he even withdrew into his side of the wall. She exited the toilet and the shop and had gone to her car, and was off. She hadn't even picked up the bottle of wine she had bought.

Jessica ate nothing that night. The taste of him was in her mouth and she wanted it to stay there. She was churning inside as she showered, flashes of what had happened moving in her head, the outrageous danger of it, becoming all the more arousing as she remembered every moment. She lay down to the most delicious orgasm, the knowledge that something from his body was inside hers, something she had taken, coaxed out of him, bringing a feeling she didn't understand but could feel all through her.

Her work colleagues noticed something about her that week. She was perhaps a little lighter. She even laughed occasionally. Her secretary Jenna even dared to ask if she was seeing someone. She smiled but said no. But on Friday Jenna looked in before she left the office and said "It's good to see you back." That was all, but they both knew what she meant. Jessica was beginning to feel whole again.