20th July 2003: This was a hastily-written story which tells of an encounter I had in Glasgow. It’s pure sex with little else in terms of characters or plot. If this was all erotic writing was about, I’d have probably given it up after about my second story.

The Market Toilets
by Maverick

 

There’s this little market in Glasgow full of stalls selling cheap leather shoes, fake Reebok sportswear and bright yellow glittering jewellery. Right at the back, hidden by the side of a kiosk full of rows of mobile phone covers, there’s a men’s toilet.

The first time I went in there I was twenty. It was early summer and I was back in Glasgow, back at home with my parents, from university.

I think, by then, I was getting pretty comfortable about the fact I’m gay. The contrast between the few failed attempts I’d made to bring girls back to my university lodgings with some of the rather more successful nights I’d spent with other boys had kind of made that fact obvious.

 ***

The dark blue door was marked with a plastic male symbol onto which someone had drawn a set of cartoon genitals. Just in case we needed extra reassurance as to which sex the toilet was for.

The strong stench of urine hit me as soon as I walked through it.

More oppressive than that was the small space of the toilet and the fact four men were already in there.

A couple of middle-aged men in grey suits. An old guy in a brown jacket with grey hair. A youngish-looking bloke in a tracksuit.

Just standing around at the urinals, or washing their hands, or looking like they were waiting for someone.

Most of them looked over at me, like I shouldn’t be there, and I was still young enough to blush.

I hitched my backpack up on my shoulder. It was a habit I’d noticed I’d started doing whenever I felt slightly uncomfortable. I knew I was doing it but I couldn’t stop myself.

I saw that one of the cubicles was free.

I walked over and into it, relieved to get away from the stares and the glances.

The door wouldn’t lock but that wasn’t too much of an inconvenience. I only wanted a quick piss; I’d just hold it closed.

Almost as soon as I’d taken my cock out, a face appeared above me looking over the partition between our cubicles.

I looked up but the guy didn’t look at me immediately: he stared at my cock for maybe ten seconds or so.

He was wearing a black woollen hat and looked a little older than me. He had the face of guy who knew how to handle himself: confident and cunning. The silver ring piercing his left eyebrow made him look rough.

He glanced up at my face and whispered, “You up for somethin’?”

I guess my limp dick had made him wonder as to my intentions.

I hadn’t really been expecting anything but I nodded. I was always up for something with reasonably good-looking guys.

And despite – or perhaps because – of his roughness, he was reasonably good-looking.

He disappeared and, within a couple of seconds, he was pushing against the door of my cubicle.

I let him in.

My limp cock was still poking out from my fly, looking slightly ridiculous.

He came in and pushed the door behind him. He tried to lock it but, like me, found the lock was broken.

He was tall – about six foot two or three – and pretty thin. He was wearing black jeans and a black teeshirt. A faded tattoo of a dragon was on the swollen biceps of his right arm.

He said, immediately, “I like to fuck. You can fuck me if you wanna, but I’ve gotta fuck you too.”

I put my backpack down.

Until he’d said that, I hadn’t felt even vaguely aroused. I’d let him in more through curiosity than sexual attraction.

But I found his matter-of-fact tone and his straightforward approach to the prospect of us having sex unexpectedly arousing.

My cock stiffened a notch.

I said, “Okay.”

He started unbuckling his belt.

I asked, “What’s your name?”

He looked defensive. “Why?”

“I dunno… I’m interested.”

“This is quick fuck in the john. Why d’you need my name?”

I shrugged. “Okay… forget it.”

He stared at me coldly for a few seconds as if I’d proposed my hand in marriage.

Then he continued with his belt.

I unzipped my jeans and said, “I wanna fuck you first.”

He nodded, disinterestedly. “Whatever.”

His whole approach was really turning me on. He wanted to fuck me and, as long as he achieved that at some point, everything else was irrelevant.

My cock was now halfway to being hard.

I pulled down my jeans and hitched my white briefs down to follow them.

I asked, “Do you suck and stuff?”

He yanked down his jeans and then his paisley-patterned boxer shorts. “No.”

No discussion; just no.

I pushed a little further. “Are you gay?”

He looked up at me, his eyes full of distrust. His irises were dark brown; the colour of coffee beans. He said, coldly, “Do you wanna do this or do you just wanna talk all fuckin’ day?”

My cock was starting to arch upward. I noticed his was semi-hard between his white hairless legs; long and thin and with the dark red head of it slightly exposed. His balls hung down low like they were so heavy they’d stretched his scrotum.

I nodded. “Yeah. I wanna do this.”

He nodded abruptly and pushed me to one side.

Then he bent over the toilet. His cheeks were pale and had a few light pink spots scattered around his hairy arse cleft.

He said, “Okay. Shove a rubber on. And don’t take too long.”

I reached down to the pocket of my jeans and pulled out my wallet. I always had a couple of condoms stuffed into the back of it. I pulled one out, tore it open, and tucked my wallet back into my pocket.

When I stood up I noticed one of the middle-aged suited men was looking over the partition at me.

The guy in front of me called out curtly, “Come on. I’ve gotta get somewhere. And I wanna fuck you too…”

So I pulled the condom over my cock as quickly as I could and stepped forward to push it between his round buttocks.

He stated, “Lower.” His voice was commanding, without any pretence of affection or passion.

I took my cock in my hand and eased it downward inside his cleft. The hair inside made a course, rustling sound as my cock head slid through it. After half an inch I found a spot that was soft and yielding.

He gasped, “Yeah. That’s it.” Then, more authoritatively, “Not too fuckin’ rough, though.”

I pushed into him very slowly, all too aware from my nights with other students I’d picked up in clubs how painful anal sex could be.

But he said, impatiently, “Come on. Push it in. I’ve gotta get somewhere…”

So I pushed it in, all the way, feeling how soft and hot his insides were.

He gasped and then nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. Now fuck me. But not too fuckin’ rough.”

And I started fucking him, watching my cock slide in between his white cheeks and then out with brown smear marks on the condom.

I looked up at the guy looking over the partition, staring like he was entranced by what I was doing, and saw that his shoulder was vibrating as he masturbated himself.

The guy in front of me said, “You’re gonna let me fuck you after this. There’s no way you’re gonna piss off, okay?”

I kept sliding my cock in and out of his arse, developing a moderate rhythm.

He’d been tricked on earlier occasions, evidently. Guys who would fuck him and then fuck off. Him hopping out of the cubicle calling after them with his jeans around his ankles.

I felt bad for him. I said, to reassure him, “I like getting fucked. It’ll be cool…”

He looked over his shoulder at me, his body shaking as my cock drove in and out of his arse.

He made a half-smile. “Well hurry up then. Finish off and I’ll fuck you ’til you shit yourself…”

Then he grinned.

And, despite my mild disgust, I found I had to smile back.

The guy above us whispered, “Come on, mate, fuck him like you mean it…”

But I found I couldn’t.

Maybe it was the bizarre circumstances or the overwhelming smell of other men’s piss in there, but I just couldn’t get into it.

His arse felt good around my cock and I was hard as hell inside him, but I just couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm to fuck this guy.

I pulled out of him with a fart and a slurp.

He said, “Did you cum?”

Yeah, like I’d cum without even speeding up; without even my breathing getting slightly faster.

I shook my head. “I think I prefer getting fucked.”

He stood up from the toilet pan and turned around.

Then he pulled a bit of toilet roll from the holder and wiped his arse with it. He farted again gently.

Grinning, he said, “You’re the kind of guy I like.”

I pulled the condom from my dick. The outside of it felt slimy from the inside of his arse.

I threw the condom into the toilet bowl and he chucked in the dirty toilet paper to join it. Then he bent down to pull out a packet of his own condoms from the back pocket of his jeans.

He said, “I want you to sit on my dick. That’s how I like it.”

I nodded.

He pulled out a condom and pushed the rest of the packet back into his jeans pocket.

He added, “And you’re the one who moves, okay? I just lie there.”

I nodded again. Okay, leave me to do all the hard work.

He tore open the wrapper and rolled the condom onto his cock. He was about six or seven inches long and of average thickness. I’d taken enough cocks to know that his wouldn’t be too much of a problem.

He masturbated it with the condom on a few times, like he was getting used to the feel of it, and then sat down on the toilet seat.

I glanced up at the guy looking over the partition and was surprised to see a different face. The younger guy in the tracksuit; they were taking it in turns to watch us.

I looked back down at the guy laid out in front of me on the toilet seat. He was holding his cock upwards at a right angle to his body, ready for me to sit on it.

He said, “Really wank it with your arse.”

I said, “Okay”, but wasn’t sure I was practiced enough to do that. I’d never wanked a guy’s cock with my arse; was that different from normal anal sex?

I turned around, facing the door, and backed onto his cock. I had to hitch up my jeans slightly to stop them getting tangled with his.

Then I lowered myself onto his cock and felt the cold rubbered head of it press between my cheeks.

As it entered my arse I felt a sudden burning pain.

I pulled back and jumped away.

He called out, “Hey!”

Like I was going to make a run for it.

But I turned back to him and said, “I know you’re not into blow jobs but…”

And I knelt over his legs and put my mouth over his cock.

The taste was disgusting: rubber and the bitterness of his condom; chemicals and lubricant.

I wetted it as much as I could; drawing up as much spit as I could to moisten the length of it.

Then I reared back up and grinned at him. “Sorry, but it was too dry… a bit painful…”

He grinned back. “Your arse isn’t as slack as mine… I could take a fuckin’ tank and not flinch…”

I smiled genuinely.

Behind his roughness, there was warmth and humour. In different circumstances, he might even be kind of cute.

I turned around and lowered my arse back down onto his cock.

I felt it pressing into the ridge between my balls and my arsehole and moved backwards against him slightly.

This time it just slid in

He gasped as the head of his cock entered me an inch or so.

The guy above us said, “Come on, give it to him. Shove it up his fuckin’ shitter.”

I pushed my arse further onto the rough guy’s cock and he grunted. Then he grabbed my hips and pulled me right down so that my arse cheeks pressed into the tops of his thighs.

His cock was all the way inside me.

He said, “That’s it, mate. Now fuckin’ wank me with it…”

I started bobbing up and down on his cock and he gasped, “Yeah, that’s it…”

So that’s what he’d meant.

My cock had gone a little soft and jumped around like a windscreen wiper with every up and down movement I made. It was still thick and heavy, but too limp to stand up on its own.

As I was starting to get into it, I heard the guy in the next cubicle jump down from the toilet pan and say something outside.

Then the guy in a suit who’d been looking over the partition pushed the door to our cubicle open.

I guess I looked horrified and tried to close it.

He said, “Y’alright mate, we’re all okay…” His voice sounded deep and gravelly.

I kept bobbing up and down but said, “Close the fucking door…”

He pushed it open a little further and smiled. “Come on mate, it’s safe… we just wanna watch you.”

I saw that a tall guy with dark ginger hair in a black suit was standing just outside the cubicle, straining to get a look at us through the semi-open door. He said, “Fucking hell.”

The rough guy behind me snapped, “Let ’em watch us if they wanna.”

The middle-aged guy in the suit said, “One of us’ll stand near the outer door. You’ll be okay…”

I let him push the door of our cubicle fully open and saw another guy – a youngish guy in shorts who hadn’t been in here when I’d come in – take a few steps back and hold the outer door closed. He looked over at me and nodded.

I kept bobbing up and down and the other four or five guys in the toilet formed a group just outside our cubicle, staring in at us.

All their eyes went straight to my cock swinging around between my legs as I pumped up and down. Then their gaze travelled further down beneath my bobbing balls at the condom-wrapped shaft slamming in and out of my arse.

The ginger guy laughed and repeated, “Fucking hell.”

He looked up at my face and laughed again. I couldn’t help smile back. It felt kind of cool to be putting on a show for a group of men; to be showing them my cock and balls so explicitly and to be getting fucked right in front of them.

The guy behind me grabbed my hips more firmly and started pulling them down onto his cock more quickly. He said, “That’s it, mate… get a bit faster…”

I saw the bloke in the tracksuit had hitched the front of his tracksuit bottoms down and had his cock out, masturbating it as he watched us.

The others started following his lead, one by one.

Their cocks were all different shapes and sizes. The guy in the tracksuit’s was thick and short; one of the middle-aged guys had a cock which bent to the left; the tall ginger guy was built like a donkey.

The bloke in shorts who was standing at the door called out, “Hey, someone wanna take over lookout duty?” And he walked over to us, pushing his way through.

I kept riding the young guy’s cock but said, “Someone’s gotta stand near the door.”

No-one moved so I made as if to push the cubicle door closed.

Then the other of the middle-aged guys in a suit – the one who hadn’t looked over the partition – took a step backwards towards it. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it.”

The guy in the shorts unzipped them and pulled his cock out from his boxers immediately. It was pale and slim and curved upwards in an arc.

He looked at me and then looked over at the ginger guy. They exchanged knowing glances and grins, masturbating themselves quickly.

By now I was really getting into the fact these guys were watching me. My cock had grown fully hard and stood upward, no longer bobbing around, between my legs.

I loved the fact these guys were enjoying watching me, wanking their differently-shaped cocks as they stared between my legs at my arse being buggered.

I kicked the leg of my jeans from my left foot and opened my legs as wide as they could go. Then I reclined backwards against the guy on the toilet and held my balls up against the base of my cock.

Now they could really the cock that was sliding in and out of my arse. I showed it off to them, flaunted it; I wanted them to see me getting fucked.

A couple of the guys strained forwards for a better look, grinning and nodding in encouragement.

I grinned back, increasing my rhythm and taking longer strokes up and down the length of the cock beneath me. My own cock, aching with excitement, was jabbing into the air with every thrust of my hips.

The guy in shorts laughed, “You’re a dirty boy, aren’t ya!”

I laughed back.

The old guy, standing near the back of them, said, “He knows how to take it. Christ, his fuckin’ arse is eating it…”

I looked at him and he winked. As if to say, “But I could still teach you a few tricks, lad.”

I liked the way the men kept looking at each other’s cocks, just briefly and casually, as they watched me being fucked in front of them. Like they were comparing shapes sizes, maybe wondering who I’d choose to go next if the rough guy came before I did.

I had no doubt that the ginger guy was next in line. His cock was maybe nine inches long and as a thick as his wrist. He masturbated it ponderously with his left hand, his wedding ring glinting in the overhead strip lights as he did so.

I’d never taken a nine inch cock before but, even if it meant coming back to these toilets every day of my summer vacation, I was impatient to find out what it would feel like.

The guy in the tracksuit started cumming first.

He grunted and panted and long strings of semen hung and dripped from the hand he’d put over the head of his cock to stop it squirting.

Even after he’d cum he kept staring at my arse, watching the rough guy’s cock sliding in and out of it. As if he was hypnotised by it.

I noticed that the guy in shorts kept turning to the one in the grey suit, smiling at him. I realised that the suited guy had his hand down the back of the other bloke’s shorts. He was smiling because he was being fingered by the suited guy as they both wanked.

The excitement of all this was becoming too much for me; I had to do something with my cock it was aching so bad.

I grabbed it and started masturbating quickly and tightly.

The rough guy beneath me seemed to like the fact that I’d enjoy the feel of his cock so much that I’d have to play with my own. He grabbed my hips more firmly and said, “That’s it, fuckin’ wank yoursel’ mate. Cum while I’m up your arse…”

The ginger guy strained forward and started masturbating his huge cock more quickly as he watched me beating at my smaller version while I was fucked.

He nodded and said, “Come on… go for it…”

The cock of the guy in shorts blasted an arching string of cum into the air.

He gasped, “Oh Jesus.”

The back of his shorts were beating frantically as the guy in the grey suit’s hand worked at his arse. The older bloke grinned as he watched the fruits of his labours shooting from the younger man’s cock.

I was feeling really turned on by this. Anal fingering is really my thing.

I started really ramming my arse down on the rough guy’s cock, wanting to feel it filling my bowels.

I knew my orgasm was getting close; my rectum always gets hungry when I’m about to shoot.

My hand was frantic, pumping at my cock in a blur. My balls were jumping around, bobbing up and down in the air.

I was panting and gasping, my face a snarl.

Everyone looked at my cock, knowing it was about to start pumping.

Their eyes were wide, their mouths open. They bent forwards to get a better view, eager for me to show them how much I enjoyed getting fucked; eager to see my cock spew cum like a geyser while I was sodomised in front of them.

Then my balls tingled and the liquid rushed up from them to spew from my piss-slit.

The ginger guy called out “Yeah!” as he saw my cock start spurting.

The rough guy grunted something too and started thrusting so hard that my body was lifted upward by his bucking hips.

I fell back against his chest giving the crowd an even better view of my widened arsehole being pummelled by his cock.

He put his arms around my chest and pumped his own cum into the condom deep inside my bowels.

Even as my own orgasm abated, I lifted my left leg to show the guys outside how hot his cock looked inside me.

I wanted them to see his balls on the toilet seat, his cock disappearing into my reddened arse ring above them; my balls above that; my spent cock, still oozing cum, above those.

Just then the guy near the door started saying something and the guys around the door scattered to different places around the small room.

The ginger guy made a beeline for one of the cubicles; I think the old bloke did too.

The man near the door was saying, “Sorry, mate, it’s stuck. I’m just trying to ease it open… hang on…”

I struggled to stand up and the rough guy’s cock slurped out of my arse. I banged the door of our cubicle closed just as someone came into the toilets.

Then I wiped my arse and pulled up my jeans.

The rough guy sat on the toilet recovering his breath. He pulled off his hat and his dark brown hair was wet with sweat and sticking to forehead.

Shrugging my backpack on, I looked down at him and he smiled at me.

I smiled back.

He said, “Cheers.”

I gave him a thumbs up.

And I left the cubicle.

Guys in the room grinned at me through the mirrors as I washed my hands.

The ginger guy came out of his cubicle and stood next to me washing his. He threw me a smirk and a wink.

I gave him the warmest smile I could muster.

He said, “These loos always get busy around this time of day.”

I nodded and walked to the hand dryer. “Yeah. It’s kind of the most convenient time, I guess…”

He turned off the taps and asked, “Convenient for you?”

I grinned again. “Every day. Same time.”

He smiled. “Nice one.”

And, as I was leaving, I saw that most of the other men in there were smiling too.

 

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