3rd August 2001: I’m surprised it took me nearly five months to write my first public toilet story where I was an active participant, but this story made up for the delay. It was hugely popular at the time, so much so that a few years later I wrote a follow-up story about the guy who was in the next toilet stall.
One afternoon a couple of years ago I went into the gents at the university Student Union for a piss. A lot of guys were standing around at the urinals, so I went into the only free cubicle. I get a bit shy when I’m trying to take a piss in crowded gents, what with other guys standing near me and all the noise. No matter how hard I try, sometimes I just can’t relax enough to go.
So I walked into the heavily-graffitied cubicle, closed the door and took my dick out to take a piss. While nature was taking its course, I noticed a glossy magazine lying on the floor behind the toilet. From the pictures I could see, it was obvious that it was a girlie mag. Although I’m straight, I’m not much into porno mags; but I was intrigued to see it lying there and, when I’d finished off taking a leak, I bent over to pick it up.
I stood there for a couple of minutes, flicking through the pages, with my cock still sticking out from my flies. The pictures were pretty standard – anorexic teenagers lying on their backs with their legs unflatteringly wide apart and inane expressions on their faces. A few vacuous words and lame puns alongside each one. The worst sort of cheap straight filth.
Towards the end of the mag, though, there was this story about a couple of girls travelling around Europe. I probably would have passed over it but for the fact that one of them was called Evette which was the name of my girlfriend at the time. In bold print in the middle of the page was the line: “Evette had never seen such a large manhood.” That made me smile and I considered cutting it out and sticking it on the door of her room before she got back from lectures. I started reading some of the story and found it a bit farcical. Basically, in the course of about three pages, these two girls found that they were lesbians and then abruptly rediscovered their heterosexuality having been inspired by the large cocks of a couple of farm boys.
I guess I shouldn’t really take the piss out of the story because I ended up getting a bit hard while I was reading the bit about the two girls playing around together in their tent. I read that page a couple of times, slowly jerking my half-stiffened cock. I think it was the name Evette in it that got me aroused. I kept imagining my girlfriend writhing around in a tent with this girl called Anna who I knew on my course. I kept reading the paragraphs about one girl licking the other’s tits and imagining Anna’s tongue swirling around Evette’s nipples. Caressing her round tits with her smooth fingers. I was getting quite hot thinking about this.
Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw that something moved above me.
I looked up and saw someone’s head duck down behind the partition separating the cubicles. I realised that another guy had been watching me masturbating.
Now I guess for most straight guys, that might have been regarded as an intrusion. I can imagine certain mates of mine who would have started banging on the partition and shouting abuse. Or maybe zipping themselves up and kicking in the door of that cubicle to confront the guy who’d been spying on them.
But, after I’d recovered from the surprise, I suppose I felt kind of flattered that the guy had been getting off by watching me. The fact he’d been looking at my cock made me feel more excited. I like having sex with my girlfriends outside – like out in the car, or at the beach – and this situation made me feel horny in a similar way.
I looked at the partition and noticed that a few small holes had been drilled in it. I realised that he’d seen me starting to play with my cock through one of those holes and had wanted a better look. I looked back at my cock, about six inches of it poking out through my flies. I knew he’d be discretely checking it out through one of the drill holes.
I wanted him to look over the top of the partition at me again. The idea of being spied on by another guy interested me.
I turned back to the magazine and opened it to a page with photos on it. Some tart holding her tits like udders and with an expression on her face like she’d had an electric shock. I started jerking my cock but the sight of this girl in such a lewd and artificial pose made my cock shrivel. I turned over.
Then I saw movement again. I saw the shadow of his head on the wall just above the toilet as he looked over the top of the partition. My cock started to stiffen again, entirely in response to the idea I was being watched. I licked my thumb and, holding the underside of my dick in my fingers, I wet my bell end with my thumb, gently rubbing it around the piss slit. As I did this, I held the magazine out further from my body so that he could see more of my cock. I noticed that the shadow on the wall moved as he struggled to see as much as he could.
I have a nice cock – at least, that’s what girls tell me. It’s about eight inches long and reasonably thick. Not all that thick, but a couple of girls have told me that thicker dicks hurt them. So I figure it’s about right.
I wondered what this guy was making of my cock. Assuming he was gay, I wondered if gay men have the same tastes in dicks as women have. I know my cock is longer than average but I wondered how he’d feel about me being uncircumcised. I’d heard one night in a conversation at a nightclub that gay men are into circumcised cocks so I wondered if he’d be disappointed by my foreskin.
I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down a bit. I tucked the waistband of my white briefs under my balls and then started jerking myself off again. I kept looking at the magazine, held out in my other hand, but I wasn’t really thinking about any of the crass photos on it. I was thinking of this guy watching me, wondering if he was wanking his own dick as he checked me out.
I wondered if he was another student or whether he might be a lecturer at the university. The idea that I might be displaying my hard cock to a guy who taught me was interesting. I kept wanting to look up at him but I didn’t want to spoil the illusion that I was oblivious to his presence.
My strokes were long and quite slow – I tried to rub as much of my eight inches as I could. Normally when I wank I make short fast jerks near the head of my cock, but this time I wanted to put on a show for this guy. I was really enjoying the feeling of my hand on my cock but only because I knew I was being watched. It was a new, previously unconsidered scenario for me and I was loving it. I kept thinking, “He doesn’t know that I know he’s there,” and the thought of that got me so excited that the head of my cock hardened enough to look shiny.
Then he spoiled that fantasy by deliberately getting my attention. He went, “Pssst!”
I looked up. I tried to look surprised but I think he knew what my game had been.
I saw that he had really nice eyes. They were a beautiful green colour. His hair, with its long floppy fringe, was auburn-brown.
He whispered, barely audible over the noise of male voices from the urinals and sinks, “Are you straight?”
He sounded Northern. Maybe Geordie, but I’m not clear about Northern accents. He was definitely a student: he looked about 19 or 20.
I said, “Yeah.”
He didn’t elaborate as to his sexual orientation. Instead he said, “Can I take a look at your mag?”
From that I guessed that he must be straight. The thought that it had been the photos in the magazine that he’d been looking at and not my dick disappointed me. I felt a bit foolish for exhibiting myself in front of another straight guy.
I passed the magazine up towards him.
He said, “No. Can I come in there and look at it…”
I stared at him.
He continued, “With you?”
I guess I just continued staring at him for a couple of seconds. Then his meaning dawned on me. I felt a mischievous smile develop on my face. It must have looked quite funny to him, because he also grinned.
I wanted to say “Yes” but I felt a bit nervous. I looked down towards the drill holes and wondered what I should do. I’d never been in a toilet cubicle with another guy before. Except, I suppose, my dad when I was small. The possibility of being caught didn’t occur to me, so it wasn’t that which scared me. I guess it was just that this was an unexpected thing to happen – a big step for me to contemplate taking.
I looked back up to him, ready to say “No”, and he flashed me a smile. Kind of to say “Please.” I thought he looked cute, like he was a bit of a softie. Maybe slightly camp but not conspicuously so. I wondered whether, if he came in and I played it totally straight, it might not be such a big deal. He could just stand next to me and watch me wanking over the magazine. It might be cool to have a gay guy drooling over my cock. The idea of it made me feel quite macho.
So I smiled back at him and whispered, “Yeah. You can come in and look at the mag.”
His head ducked down and I heard him fumbling with his trousers. After a few seconds, he flushed his loo and I heard the door to his cubicle click open. I wondered how he would get into my cubicle without it being obvious to everyone what was going on. It was mid-afternoon and the toilets were busy.
He disappeared for a minute or two. Maybe he went over to wash his hands and stuff, or maybe he went out of the toilets. Since I’m not gay, I’m not too clear on the etiquette of public toilets, so I thought he’d lost his nerve and made a run for it. I felt a bit let down.
Then I heard a tap on the door of my cubicle and saw a foot underneath the door. I supposed this must be him so I drew back the bolt. The door started opening. For a split second the thought flashed through my mind that this wasn’t him – that it was some guy desperate for a crap who was trying all the cubicle doors to find out if any were free. I wondered how I’d explain letting him into mine.
But it was him. He was taller than I’d imagined – about six feet like me. He was wearing a checked shirt and black jeans, with brown hiking boots on his feet.
As soon as he’d closed the door, he started unzipping his flies. I felt surprised by this, although I don’t know what else I was expecting – we weren’t exactly in a good venue for a conversation. He pushed his underpants and trousers down to the tops of his thighs, but his cock was obscured by the bottom of his shirt. He unbuttoned his shirt and then stood, slowly jerking his semi-erect cock in front of me. As I watched, it started to get harder.
I turned back to the magazine and continued playing with my own dick which had gone soft while I’d been wondering where he’d disappeared to. I caressed my bell end a bit, and fondled my balls. I noticed that his eyes were very much on my cock and not on the magazine. His renewed interest made my cock start to harden.
He whispered, “You’ve got a big cock.”
That nearly made me laugh. A few girls have told me that my cock is nice, long, big or whatever, but to hear a guy say that was unexpected. I think it was the fact of hearing that sentence whispered in a guy’s voice that I found so amusing. I smiled at him and kept toying with it between my thumb and forefinger. I felt it getting larger, starting to thicken out.
I took a look at his cock. It looked fully hard by now – it pointed upwards – and was about seven inches long I’d guess. I noticed that he wasn’t circumcised – so much for that theory – and that, in contrast to the lily whiteness of his foreskin, his bell end was a dark purple colour. His balls were larger than mine and seemed to be held tightly by his almost hairless scrotum. They rested on the gusset of his underpants which were stretched around the tops of his legs.
My gaze shifted upwards to his chest, only slightly revealed between the open front of his shirt. It was hairless and, like the skin of his cock, very pale. It looked quite feminine and that attracted me.
He whispered, “Your pubes are cool.”
That also made me smile. Being blond, my pubic hair is quite light. Not totally blond – more of a light gingery colour – but quite unusual if you’re used to seeing dark haired guys’ bushes.
I wrapped my hand around my now fully erect cock and started wanking in earnest. I took up quite a fast rhythm and made long strokes up and down its length. I heard him take a deep breath as I did this and then saw his hand speed up on his own cock.
Somebody switched the hand-drier on in the toilet and it made a loud noise. He said, over the top of it, “If you want I’ll suck your cock while you look at your mag.”
I was surprised by his candour and looked at him. He said, “If you want…”
I said, “I’m not gay.”
He said, “I know. You’d be looking at pictures of women. You could imagine it’s one of them on your dick.”
I didn’t tell him that I’d easily prefer his lips to one of those slutty mouths on me.
I said, “Okay.”
I put the magazine down on the toilet seat and turned to face him. He knelt down in front of me and pulled my trousers down a bit further. Then he surprised me by pulling my underpants up and over my cock and balls. He moved his hands around to the sides to pull them all the way up and then round to the back to the same over my arse. My hard cock pointed diagonally upwards in them, towards my left hip.
I looked down at him and saw him bury his face into the front of my briefs. Then he moved his face around them, sniffing them around my cock and then lower where my balls were. His hand returned to his own cock and I saw him pulling on it quickly. I felt his warm breath through the white cotton of my briefs as he worked his way around my bulge, inhaling the smell of them.
He looked up, grinning, and whispered, “You don’t mind do you?”
I shook my head.
He whispered, “Do you want to turn around, mate?”
A thought flashed through my mind. I said, quickly, “You can’t fuck me.”
He looked embarrassed. Backed off a bit. He said, “No no. Of course. I just want to do… this… but around your arse.”
Nobody had ever wanted to smell my arse before so I think I just stared at him open-mouthed. I couldn’t even imagine a girl asking to smell my arse, with or without my briefs on.
He said, “Sorry mate. I’ll just suck you.”
I shook my head quickly. I whispered, “No. You can do that.” I felt horny as hell just from the fact he’d asked me if he could do this. I was feeling glad I’d allowed him to come in to my cubicle.
I turned around. My trousers were around my knees so it was difficult to turn around with any dignity. I kind of hopped around until my arse was in front of him. He immediately pressed his face into the material of my briefs, his nose and chin pushing into my cleft. I bent forwards over the toilet, supporting myself with my hands on the wall above it, to give him better access. He really pushed his way in. Again I felt the warmth of his breath on my buttocks near to where my hole was. I felt him move down to bring his nose closer to that area and heard him inhale deeply.
I found this really arousing and, taking one hand away from the wall, I pulled the front of my briefs down enough to get my cock back out and start jerking it. He pushed my hand away from my dick and started wanking it for me. His hand was skilled – he held my rod tightly and jerked my foreskin upwards and downwards quickly. I let out an involuntary moan that sounded louder than it ought to in the busy toilets.
With his other hand, he pulled the back of my underpants down so that the waistband was underneath the bottom of my buttocks. Then he pushed his face into my bum again and I felt his hot tongue pressing between my cheeks, level with my butthole. By now, I desperately wanted it in there. He kind of teased me with it, though, making his tongue dart in as far as my hole and then pulling it back and gently licking around my cleft. To encourage him, I bent further even more – my face was almost level with the toilet bowl – and opened my legs as widely as the trousers around my knees would allow me.
He pushed his tongue back into my butt crack and tenderly licked around my arse hole. It felt fantastic. I’d asked a couple of my early girlfriends to lick my arsehole out but they had both refused and seemed outraged that I would even suggested such a thing. So I’d gone a bit quiet about it with more recent girls. One girl would finger me while I screwed her, but that was as close as I got. And that was hardly ideal because she had sharp nails.
This guy got really into it though. Once he realised how much I was enjoying it he really got stuck in. I knew I had a nice round arse – I’d checked myself out in the mirror on many occasions – and it was nice that someone finally appreciated it. None of the “Ooh no that’s dirty Seb” that I’d had so often from girls. This guy really ate my hole and I loved it.
He took his hand away from my cock so that he could part my bum cheeks with both hands. He really spread them – my arsehole hurt a bit from being opened so wide. But while they were spread, he pushed his tongue right inside my hole and started licking the inside of my anus. It felt so beautiful to have his tongue in there, pushing its way into me. It felt right that he was another guy doing this to me and not one of my girlfriends. Unlike them, he wasn’t scared by the feels and tastes of a guy’s arse – those seemed to attract and excite him as he entered me with his tongue. I moaned again in pleasure and my hand returned to my cock so I could continue masturbating. I could feel the warm wetness of his mouth around my hole and the exquisite flickings of his tongue inside my anus, sending shivers up my lower back every time it darted into me.
At one point I took my hand away from my throbbing cock, so close to spewing, to push my trousers further down so that I could open my legs further. As I did so I noticed that the girlie magazine had fallen to the floor. It was lying under my foot, soggy from being ground into the piss-splattered floor. Then I opened myself up to him even more and he moved his face even closer in so that he could lick my passage deeper and deeper. He was so close to me that I could feel my heavy balls banging against his chin as I masturbated myself. So close I could feel the rapid bursts of warm air from him nose as he struggled for breathe in his excitement.
We stayed like this for about a minute I guess. Two men in what is probably the most intimate position they can get into. His tongue deep inside my arse. Licking and tasting a part of me that girls wouldn’t.
Then he raised himself up and stood behind me. Afraid he’d want to fuck me, I also stood up and turned to face him. We both stood like that for a few seconds, recovering our breath, staring at each other with hard cocks standing out from our bodies. Totally different cocks. Mine was large and curved upwards in an arc. It had prominent veins along its length and a pink head which was larger than the thickness of the stem. His was shorter but quite thick. The skin was smooth and pale and the head, much smaller than mine, was an angry dark purple. His cock pointed upwards but was straighter than mine.
I saw more differences the more I looked. His pubic hair was darker and thicker than mine. His balls didn’t dangle like mine do: they were held firmly beneath his cock in his large, round scrotum. His cock head was dry but mine was wet and oozing precum. I found these differences fascinating. I’d always thought that women would be more attractive to a straight man than another guy ever could be to a gay man because women are so different. But in looking at this cute, Northern lad with his thick straight cock, I realised that a man could also have fascinating peculiarities which would appeal sexually to another man.
He whispered, “I want to fuck you.”
I shook my head.
He said, “I’ve got a condom.”
I said, “That’s not the problem.”
He said, “Will you fuck me then?”
I said, “I’m not gay.”
He said, “Think of a woman then.”
He said, grinning, “You’ve always wanted to. To see what it would feel like.”
I stared at him. He seemed to have read my mind. I suppose all straight guys, at some time in their lives, consider what it would be like to penetrate another guy’s arse hole. I certainly had – and on many occasions. The guy was astute enough to realise this and the way he presented it, with a cute smirk on his face, was very persuasive.
He reached down to his jeans and searched in the pocket for something. He pulled out his wallet. I thought for a second he was going to offer to pay me to fuck him but he pulled out a condom. He handed it over to me and continued fishing around in his wallet. I tore open the condom wrapper, thinking “Jesus am I really going to go through with this?”, and saw that he pulled out a sachet, about the size of a tomato sauce sachet you’d get in a cafŽ, from his wallet. He found this sachet difficult to open and had to use his teeth. He squeezed out some of the thick white liquid onto his fingers and then reached round to his arse. I finally realised that he was moistening his arsehole ready for me to fuck him. This realisation – the recognition that the guy in front of me was preparing himself to receive my cock up his rear – made me feel extremely excited and confirmed in my mind that I did really want to do this.
When he’d done lubing his hole up, he motioned for me to move towards the door in the cubicle. I did this, feeling ridiculous about the way I walked with my trousers around my ankles, and he moved over towards the toilet and bent over it. I thought, “Hey, gay guys really do bend over for it!”
He put his hands on the wall above the toilet as I’d done, and stood there showing me his buttocks. I looked at them, and especially at his cleft with a fine fuzz of hair in the lower half of it, and felt desperate to fuck him. Desperate to get my cock up there and ram it in as deep as it could go. I’d gone from experiencing an occasional suppressible interest in anal sex to being uncontrollably desperate to fuck this guy.
I unfurled the condom over my hard, aching cock. The coolness of the rubber felt good against my hot, engorged bell end. Then I walked up to him and pressed the end of my dick into his cleft. He whispered, “Lower man,” and I used my hand to guide the head downwards until I felt it brush against his hole.
I was amazed at how easily my cock slid into him. I’d tried anal sex with girls but had had to give up because it seemed impossible to get my cock into such a tight hole. But this guy’s arse seemed to suck my cock in. I just pushed against his ring and then it slipped straight into him.
He let out an “Aah!” sound as I entered him. Then he turned to look at me over his shoulder and flashed a smile at me. He looked really sweet like that. Kind of vulnerable and a bit girlie. I liked that about him. I liked the fact that it was this guy, a cute boyish kind of guy, that I was sharing my first anal fuck with rather than someone else. I suppose, in retrospect, I’m glad that I fucked his arse first rather than a girl’s arse: it seems right that I shared my first taste of this, the archetypal gay act, with another man.
I held his waist and started pushing my cock into him as far as it would go. When about two inches of it remained outside he pulled forward and pain flashed across his face. I pulled out a bit and he relaxed. I rubbed his back gently, as if to soothe him. He turned to look at me again. I whispered, “Sorry.” He smiled warmly. I saw that his face was rather beautiful: his skin was pale and made his green eyes and auburn hair look more striking. I thought, “Jeez, Seb. You’ll want this guy as your next girlfriend soon”.
I started fucking him slowly making long deliberate thrusts to loosen his arse. His insides felt hot and moist against my cock. His face was turned towards me and I could see he was breathing deeply to try to relax to accommodate my cock. I felt guilty, looking at his face, to be fucking him. He looked young and innocent – I felt like I was defiling him in some way. But then I reminded myself that this guy, despite his schoolboy charms, was obviously well practised in the art of receiving cock up his rear given the ease at which mine had slipped into him.
When he seemed to have relaxed, I started fucking him more quickly, holding onto his waist to steady him. I saw his hand reach for his own cock and he started masturbating himself. I developed a good rhythm, enjoying the tightness of his arse and the sounds it was making as my cock slid in and out.
My eye was attracted by movement above us and I looked up to see that another guy, a guy with short black hair and glasses, was peering over the partition at us. Watching me get my first taste of buttfucking. We looked at each other for a couple of seconds and I could see that his head was nodding in a very slight but very fast rhythm. I realised that he was masturbating as he watched what we were doing.
I looked back to the guy taking my cock and saw that he was panting as I fucked him. I liked that. I took my right hand off his waist and grabbed his right buttock, squeezing it roughly. He glanced up at me from his bending position, looking bright red and out of breath. His long fringe was hanging down, nearly touching the rim of the toilet bowl. I smiled at him, also out of breath. I realised that he was thrusting his arse outwards in the same rhythm as my cock was plowing into him. The guy was fucking me back!
I noticed that, on the wall in front of us amongst all the other graffiti, was a crude pen drawing of two guys fucking. One bending over while the other penetrated him. The one bending over had a large erection. Normally I wouldn’t even have noticed a drawing like that, but this time, with me standing there doing exactly what was shown, I stared at it. Then I looked at the other graffiti: scribbled references to “cock fun” and guys’ dick sizes. Brief tales written in marker about guys with other guys’ cocks in their mouths and guys with their cocks up other guys’ arses. Child-like drawings of cocks with semen spurting out of them. Feeling my cock ramming into this other guy’s arse as we stood there like that, I felt turned on by all of these crude references to men and sex. I liked the seediness of this place – the gritty maleness of it – and the fact that this was a place where guys come, maybe even the odd straight one like me, to have sex together and to watch others have sex. The drawings, the sounds of men’s voices from the urinals, and the smell of their piss all combined to produce an atmosphere of maleness where women played no part.
The guy in front of me opened his legs further so that they were on either side of the toilet bowl. I pushed into him more deeply and my rhythm increased. Glancing down , I saw that my cock was now able to get almost completely inside him. About an inch of it remained outside on my inward thrusts. I wondered how this guy’s arse could fit the other seven inches of my dick up it. His butt cleft was sweaty and the fine hairs around his arsehole had tiny drops of it on them. My own butt cleft also felt moist with sweat and the area around my hole, where his tongue had been, felt sticky.
Still looking downward, I noticed that the soggy magazine had been torn apart, trodden into the floor by his left foot. Every time he moved, his foot kicked shreds of crude female pictures further behind the toilet bowl.
My thrusts became faster and I could feel I was nearing my climax. Outside of our cubicle, there were shouts as some lads who must have been watching football in the Union bar barged into the toilets chanting football slogans. Their loud boisterous shouts filled the toilets but my rhythm didn’t abate. I recognised one of the voices as that of Kev, a guy who lived in my flat, and it appealed to me that, while he was louting it up at the urinals, I was a few feet away from in the cubicle doing something that he would regard as unspeakable.
In the midst of all of this shouting and the loud sounds of them urinating, the guy in front of me looked even more attractive. He turned to look at me again and I saw that his lips, open and moist, were soft and pink. He looked almost feminine, panting with pleasure at the movement of my cock in and out of him. I didn’t stop thinking of him as a guy – his body was shaped like a guys’ and he moved clumsily like a guy – but his softness and vulnerability, in contrast with the lads outside the cubicle door, appealed to me.
I bent over him, taking my hands from his waist and wrapping them around his chest. Through his open shirt I could feel his smooth pecs and I held his nipples between my fingers and thumbs. I like fucking women like this: from behind and with my hands on their tits. But I don’t think I thought of that then: the feelings I was getting from fucking this guy were so different that I don’t remember drawing any comparisons with straight sex throughout the whole experience. I held his chest because I liked the feel of it: the absence of tits did not seem wrong. I thrust in and out of his arse because that felt right too: he was a guy and so it seemed natural that it was his arse I wanted to fuck. His lack of a pussy just didn’t enter my head as an issue.
The football guys started kicking the cubicle doors, chanting more football anthems. I was too close to my orgasm to care. I fucked the arse of my first male lover so quickly that my balls hurt from repeatedly banging into the top of his legs. I dimly wondered what Kev would do, seeing his straight mate Seb buttfucking another guy in a public john. But the pleasure I was getting from feeling this guy’s hole clamped around my cock as I fucked him far outweighed any worries I had about getting caught.
Holding him tightly, I felt spurts of my semen pumping into the condom I was wearing. The head of my cock felt warm and wet as my sperm spread around inside the condom. Panting into his ear, my rhythm in his backside slowed down until, closing my eyes and recovering my breath, I stopped completely.
I noticed that he was still masturbating but he was obviously close to cumming because his face was nearly purple and his eyes were tightly closed. I’d wanted him to cum with my cock inside him, but I know from experiences with girls that my cock gets really sensitive after I’ve cum and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to continue thrusting into him without feeling so much discomfort to make me go limp. So I pulled my cock out of him, hearing the satisfying slurp of his arse as it was withdrawn.
Outside of the cubicle, some of the lads seemed to be having an argument with a security guard who was telling them to get out.
I stuck two of my fingers up the guy bending over the toilet. He winced as I pushed them in as far as they could go. His insides felt hot and wet. I pulled them out a little and then pushed them back in, trying to get them in deeper. He pushed his bum backwards onto my hand trying to take as much of my fingers as he could. With my left hand I reached around him and held his balls gently. They felt larger than I’d expected and, while they were still held firm by his tight smoothly-wrinkled scrotum, I could feel them dancing around to the rhythm of his hand on his thick cock above them. Then his hole clenched in spasms around my fingers and I saw strings of white liquid splashing from his cock onto the toilet seat. His arse pumped my fingers, squeezing them, and I wished I’d held out a bit longer while I was fucking him with my cock – the rapid squeezing of his ring while he was cumming would have been worth experiencing.
He orgasmed for about twenty seconds. As he did so, he stared at the toilet bowl beneath him, open mouthed and gasping. He milked every last drop from his cock and, even when it was spent, continued jerking it and panting. Then, abruptly he stopped and looked back towards. At first he seemed to look surprised at what we’d done and then smiled at me rather sheepishly. Like he was afraid I’d be angry with him.
I’d enjoyed watching his face while he came. I thought about it for weeks afterwards. It was the first time I’d really studied a guy while he orgasmed – the few jerk-off sessions with other guys that I’d had at boarding school didn’t really give me the opportunity to stare so blatantly. I liked what I’d seen here. It was subtly different to the faces of girls I’d known as they came – less theatrical and self-aware.
After we’d silently cleaned up, I squeezed out through the door of the cubicle – hoping no-one would turn from the urinals to see him behind me – and left the toilets.
I rejected the idea of going to see Evette and headed off back to my own room. Walking through the streets, I kept thinking of the guy in the toilet. I wished I’d been less selfish during our sex. Hoped I hadn’t upset him by just walking away without saying anything.
The image of him fucking me, the offer of which I had so quickly refused in the cubicle, kept returning. I began to find myself wishing, when I wasn’t fast enough to dismiss the idea before it had got a grip on my mind, that I’d allowed him to penetrate me. The idea of this smooth, cute guy – so gentle but undeniably masculine – standing behind me, using my arse to pleasure himself, became a recurrent fascination.
Next day, when I saw Evette, I told her about the story in the magazine. I thought she would find it amusing to hear that her namesake had experienced such an adventure while on a camping holiday.
She asked what I’d been doing looking through pornography.
I found her question slightly intrusive and told her that I could look at what I liked. “But as it happened,” I said, “I saw it lying around in the gents.”
She said, “Well it doesn’t sound very funny. The girl in the story was probably exploited.”
I said, “No. The girl in the story was probably fictitious.”
She glared at me. She said, “You know, sometimes I think you should get out more. Try something new. You’re becoming so predictable.”
I stared at her. I said that I might well follow her advice.
The relationship ended about five minutes later.
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