Down at the University there�s this tearoom�a small men's room in the basement of the undergrad library, the best kept secret at LU. It only has two stalls and a single urinal in front of them. Not only was a 5 inch glory hole cut between the stalls, but convenient one-inch peepholes pierced the stall doors. Like the carpenters, who�d finished the toilet, were queer themselves.
Through these orifices, one could view:
There were double doors to the outside, the farthest one in dire need of lubrication�so it was the perfect setup.
Thursday night, about 10 PM, I was in the in one of the stalls. It had been a disappointing evening, so my sexual intuitiveness awakened when the outer door squeaked opened.
The guy was mid-40�s, tall and rangy, with a ruddy face, thinning blonde hair and a mustache, dressed in a checkered shirt and jeans. His blue eyes were narrowed and he looked very intent, not really handsome, but, nonetheless, exciting. And very acceptable.
He entered the stall, and I saw that he was wearing cowboy boots. He sat on the toilet; and soon the narrow toe of his boot slid close to the partition, and he tapped the floor. I responded in kind and, a square of toilet paper appeared, with black marking pen.
"Want to suck me?"
�OK,� I wrote on the same square of paper and passed it back to him.
Peering through the glory hole, I saw him pull off his cowboy boots. He yanked off his socks and stuffed them in the boots. He pulled down his jeans and hung them on the stall door. He was naked from the waist down. That was risky; but despite my nervousness, I found myself admiring the guy's daring. I was amazed when, instead of using the glory hole, he lay down on his back and stretched his long legs into my stall; and I got my first glimpse of the cock I had committed to suck.
It wasn't huge, but it had a very nice shape. My hungry lips were in his crotch in an instant. I took him all the way down to the root; his strong hands grasped the back of my head and shoved me down farther as his hips began to gyrate.
I started to gag; my eyes watered; I couldn�t breathe. When I tried to rise off his cock, his powerful grip forced me down further. Struggling for air, I panicked. His engorged dickhead jammed my air passage. I pictured myself turning blue. I imagined the headline: �Local found asphyxiated in library toilet.� In desperation, using all the strength I could muster, I rose up on my elbows, shoulders heaving, gasping for air.
I gazed warily at the treacherous organ I had attempted to devour, but which had almost devoured me. It jutted upwards, daring, mocking, still completely erect. I heard a sigh of disappointment from the other side.
"What�d yuh stop for?"
"Sorry, man. Had to breathe. You play a little rough."
"Wanna get fucked?"
"Want me to come in there? That�d be kinda risky.�
"No. Take off your pants and slide under like I did."
Nervous as I was, I liked the stud�s can-do attitude.
"Okay," I said, hardly believing what I was doing. It would be one thing if another faggot interrupted us; but if Security, or a cop, walked in�.
But his confidence and my sexual hunger got the best of me. I slipped off my Nikes and peeled down my jeans. I wasn't wearing any underwear, so all I had on was my T-shirt and athletic socks. Hanging up my pants, I sat down on the floor.
Cold tiles chilled my butt, but I hardly noticed as I stretched my legs under the stall wall. He quickly grabbed them and pulled me toward him so that my butt bumped over the tiles, and I fell backward, striking my head on the floor, as my Tee clumped up under my armpits.
Most of my body was in his stall. My partner in crime had taken off his shirt. We were naked together, about to butt-fuck in a public restroom. I felt as if I were living out what I had seen in a dozen fuck videos. I was nervous and horny, and my heart was pounding.
I saw him squeeze some white lotion from a little plastic bottle into his palm. His nails were at least a quarter inch long, but perfectly clean and manicured. Before I knew it, he stuck two thick, long-nailed fingers up my ass. Within minutes his invading fingers had coaxed an enormous amount of precum from my dick. It oozed out of my piss-slit and ran down my shaft.
He bent over and licked it up�leaving me slippery wet with a slimy mixture of precum and saliva. He worked my hole with his long nails, and sucked my precum, for what must have been 20 minutes. I was helpless, a slave to sexual bliss, trapped between his nails massaging my prostate and his lips sucking the bejesus out of my cock.
He withdrew his fingers and guided his dick in their place. Since he wasn�t particularly large, it was an easy transition. Anticipation of his hard organ filling me added to my already feverish state and sent me over the edge. For the first time in a long time, I came without touching myself. My load exploded out of my dickhead, and gobs of cum splashed across my bare stomach.
"Nice," he chuckled, as he hiked my legs on his shoulders and began to thrust in earnest with quick, powerful jabs. His breathing quickened and turned to harsh gasps that echoed off the bathroom walls. I prayed no one else was in the basement, for surely his grunts and groans could be heard well beyond the double entrance doors. His organ pulsed and throbbed as he spewed hot jizz into my hole.
He stayed in me for another 5 or 10 minutes, grinding his seed into me. Now that the deed was done, he moved to clean up. I got to my feet and dressed; but he was quicker, pulling on his clothes and leaving the stall while I was still dabbing at the cum trickling down my leg. I realized he must have shot a very full load.
I stayed in the stall, sensing he was in no mood for conversation. I rather wished I�d gotten his name�Maybe we could get together again. I peered through the peephole for a final glimpse of him. He was primping his blonde hair in the mirror above the sink.
Sensing I was watching, he glanced back at the stall. He pulled a napkin from the dispenser. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out the same black marker he�d used to write his toilet paper note, and scribbled on the napkin.
Hot ziggety! He was going to give me his name and number after all. We�d be able to keep in touch! Still tingling from the fucking I�d just received, I thought to myself I�d like nothing better.
As he turned to go, he stopped in front of my stall, dropped the napkin to the tile, and walked out. Anxiously I reached beyond the door to grasp his note which had fallen in a tiny wadded square.
Nothing there at first. I unfolded it again and again. There it was�his message. In neatly printed block letters it read:
�I have AIDS. Do you?�
And all I could think of was his long fingernails working my innards and his cum rolling down my thigh.