Mad, they called me. Mad. "You can't do that, Jaquie, it's public indecency!" They cried, or rather, my business partner explained to me. Very thoroughly, I might add.

"Jaq, look, I know you've been... trialling this bar thing idea for a while." Shenna said in that delightfully right, persian purr of hers. Caramel skin, luscious red lips, and such sinfully dark eyes that always played with mischief every time I caught them. Even with her abayah and hijab, she cut a frankly... succubus-worthy figure. That honestly made it hard to focus sometimes with her showing off every damn curve without showing skin. "But this is... taking it a bit far, isn't it?"

My place, the Sucker Punch, had been getting rave reviews in the right circles. The right mix of perfectly liscenced bar, classy prohibition nightclub and guaranteed discreete meetup place. And the Fetish nights... well, they were slowly starting to get to an almost legendary status. And gods, it is my place. Even if I still owe the bank like a bajillion dollars, but hey, given how much I was raking in each month, that'd get paid off eventually.

But that came to the sticking point. By design, SP had discreete rooms-for-hire. Soundproofed, perfectly accomodated, furnished and complimentary, so long as you bought a few drinks beforehand. Of course, people who catch eachother across the bar, they fancy a bit of a fling, and we accomodate. Condoms, Lube... hell, we'd even added in a whole Fantasy Suite to accomodate those who fancied something of a... well, indulgence. Sure, it was a Gloryhole spot. And it was by far our busiest suite too. And a lot of interested parties just, y'know, fatasising over using it, even if they were scared of the reality.

I mean, look at a Gloryhole from a logical standpoint. You don't know what kind of dick might be coming through one of those holes. And that certainly ties in with the mystique, right? But then there's reality. STDs, Nasty cocks, bad-smelling cum, or even just demanding jerks looking to get their two-pump-charlie licked until they bust a weak-ass nut and toddle off.

In a word, gross, unsatisfying, and weird.

So, in comes my mad idea. The fantasy of a Gloryhole, but with a guarantee. A positively gorgeous cock, guaranteed to hold on until you want to taste some gooey, positively delicious cum, from a specially selected diet. Reserve it in advance, and you get to indulge to your hearts desire. What could go wrong, right?

Especially with my little... oddity. See, I found out, through experimentation with a perfectly willing prior partner, that my spunk... well, it doesn't exactly act normally. Sure, I produce a lot, that's just kinda natural. And I tend to drool a fair bit when I get excited enough, it's just kinda... well anyway, I can make my spunk taste like different stuff, depending on how long I get to relax and... take the flavours in. It's never a complete taste change, it's still going to taste like Cum, but there can be hints, y'know? On one occasion, a request came through for Chocolate. That was... not unpleasant, munching a bar a day. And that particular customer chugged it down like a damn succubus.

Well, at least hopefully it'd get some interest. Running a new bar by yourself is... difficult to say the least. And I don't think I've ever been more pent-up.

But I put my heart and soul into that brochure. And the room itself. Comfortable, pillows and chairs. A table, too, with all the amenities you might want. Methol gel, lube, hell, even breath mints. A phone dock too, and an optional screen-feed of the other side of the wall. My side of the wall, that is, with me stood there, shaft fed through that leather-lined hole, twitching and positively drooling in anticipation. And a little, silver button, if you find yourself needing more than a little oral exercise, or hands-on assitance.

And my brochures. Turns out, taking Dick Pics really is fuckin' difficult. Especially tasteful ones, too. Exhibiting the expectations of it all. And tying my cock up with Ribbon, giving it a little bow at the tip too? Well, it was well worth it. At least in my opinion.

So, looking to make a reservation?

One dick, one hole. One lust-filled bartender at the Sucker Punch, a classy place with plenty of smut slinging.

Standard rules apply; No Kik, No chat, Messages Only. Put some effort in please, give me an idea of what you want. And maybe, I dunno, a vague idea of what you like, or who you want to play.

Oh, and this is plenty open to Femboys, other Futas, etc. Just don't expect me to be the one queued up for the hole. In case it slips your attention, I'm here to give, not recieve.

In any case, lets see some orange, and get weird with it.

(Oh, and no relation to the movie Sucker Punch. I just like the name for a Bar.)