Crashing through the toilet door in the basement of the club I staggered over to one of the urinals. I was really pissed off this time. That fucking bastard Nick had done it to me again. I was so furious I could barely control the stream of piss flowing from my cock, spraying it all over the floor, my boots and down the legs of my jeans, anywhere except where it was supposed to go. Yeah, I know I was pissed out of my adolescent skull, but Nick's treatment of me had not helped.
Notwithstanding all his promises, all his solemn asseverations and all his filthy innuendoes, I found myself once more the sucker who'd fallen for yet another one of his expert jobs at cock teasing. He's so good at it, he should take it up professionally - he would make a fortune out of it! I had been hard for so long that night my genitals ached. My CKs had a sizeable dark damp stain where we had ground our crotches together on the dance floor until I was almost going crazy for sex. Then he calmly announced he was going home!
All the time we had been near enough dry fucking each other on the floor, the sod had been whispering in my ear, "I'm so hot for you babe, let's get it on." In his designer T-shirt and his perfect cargo pants he was as sweaty, as horny and as breathless as I was. Yet I knew from previous experience he was a past master at being able to turn it on and off like a fucking light switch and just say, "Not tonight, babe, I've gotta get home." Just like that! And I had fallen for it yet again. When will I ever learn?
So there I was in this small big-city club where I didn't know anyone else. I was as horny as any nineteen year old has a right to feel after his cock, balls and arse had been systematically groped and caressed for almost two hours by one of the best all time cock teasers. The fucking, sodding bastard could win Olympic gold for it! The odds were heavily stacked against anyone getting it on with me so close to closing time. Fuck, why do I always get involved with some queen who gets you believing they're right up for it, but as soon as they've gotten you all worked up and hot as hell - they go home! Alone!! Perhaps it is something to do with big city living. Sometimes I look back on my former life as a prepubescent schoolboy living in a small country town, innocently wondering why hair was suddenly sprouting in the rudest parts of my body and my dick was getting longer and thicker every time I looked in the bathroom mirror. At times I even start wishing I was back there. No, I fucking well don't! Forget I said that.
I was cooling down a bit and looking about me I noticed there were several guys loitering around in the toilet. They were rough types mostly, either straights looking for 'bovver' or gays looking for a big cock or a tight arsehole. Either way, I wasn't interested. Fuck, it was only last week I found out that this club's toilet was known all over the city as the 'fuck cottage'! That shows just how naïve us small town yokels can be. I had always thought a cottage was a small dwelling with a thatched roof, roses round the door and hens in the backyard! Coming to live and study in the big city had certainly changed my perceptions of life and opened up all kinds of possibilities. It had also opened up my legs as well, but little good that had done me. The guys I had been messing around with all seemed to be prick teasers like Nick and the most I had had from any of them was an odd quick hand job at lunchtime or a finger or two tickling my fancy in the showers at the student lodgings. They're all bastards! No, I must not get worked up again. Stay cool man.
There were four toilets in that particular club and the basement one I had blundered into had a certain reputation and notoriety amongst guys looking for sex with other guys. Well, in the mood I was in right then they could all fuck off - I just needed to get the sticky wetness out of my pants. I didn't give the rough types a second glance; I didn't want to encourage them and end up either being beaten to a pulp or the victim of a multiple rape. They all liked it harder than I was willing to put out for and I had made up my mind I'd get some solo action in Stall 2. I just had to drain this frenzy out of my balls before it made me do something daft.
I pushed into the stall, needing to clean up the mess in my briefs before the stain got so big I'd have to cover it up somehow on the way back to my lodgings. I slumped down on to the seat and rolled my jeans across my thighs, revealing the big wet patch in my CKs. Fuck, it looked as if I had pissed my pants - but it was all precum. I squeezed my fat, semi-erect nine-and-a-half inch cock and just touching it made me throb and leak some more. Where in fuck did it all come from? Realising that a moment or two of self-indulgence right then would bring me relief from all the desperate carnality, I leant into the white tiled wall and let the jeans slide down to my ankles. I rolled my briefs down from the waistband to my knees. My heavy, thick cock sprang from my light brown bush of wiry pubic hair. "Fuck," I said to myself, "that sleazeball Nick's a real tosser, missing out on some good old fashioned sex action with this." I am, of course, very proud of my nine-and-a-half by three inches cock and heavy balls to match.
I grabbed my scrotum, squeezed my balls and began stroking my cock. I smiled down at it and gobbed into my palm to lube it up, thinking I had every reason to be proud. I was coming up towards twenty and approaching the best years of any man's life. I was five-eleven, sport fit with natural blond hair and sparkling blue eyes with a hint of ice in them. Above all, I had my COCK. It would be any boy's pride and glory at nine-and-a-half inches, capable of jumping into readiness for action at the slightest provocation. Three quick strokes had it slick and hard, the foreskin pulled back from the shiny purple helmet, a dribble of clear sticky goo from my piss slit and as hot as fuck in my hand. Did I mention it was thick? Yeah, an unbelievable three-and-a-half inches in diameter embossed with throbbing veins. Fuck, I really needed some relief from that bastard Nick's teasing!
"Joel will service big cocked hot jock blond boys." Speaking quietly, I read aloud some more of the graffiti scattered amongst the dried cum stains. "Phone Sam if you want a good all rounder..." There was a lot of almost illegible scribbling on the wall beside me, so I read on further down. "STUD WANTS TO SUCK YOUR BIG FAT SMELLY COCK." Then my eye caught the one that intrigued me the most. "Want some water sports? Then be here Wed night from..." Hmm, it all sounded very nice. "Well, here I am, boys. Cum and get me!" I stroked my throbbing cock a bit harder a couple more times, wondering in my naivety what was meant by the reference to 'water sports'. I somehow doubted the writer was referring to water polo or water skiing!
My heart stopped beating. I froze. Somewhere a throat was being noisily cleared. From the sound of it, it had to be coming from one of the stalls either side of the one I was occupying. I had not heard anyone come in, so he must have been there the entire time I had been there. I held myself completely still (apart from my slowly pumping fist), certain my thumping heart and rasping intakes of breath could be heard. The throat was cleared again and I glimpsed an eye pressed against a large hole in the partition between my stall and the one he was in. I had not noticed this before and slowly I bent forward to look through the aperture and saw a man sitting on the seat. He appeared to be a well-toned guy about thirty-five to forty who was very slowly massaging his impressive tool. Catching sight of me watching him made him bolder and he stood up, flagrantly displaying his impressive crotch. I was a bit scared but my fist continued pumping at a slowly increasing rate. Putting his mouth against the hole, he spoke in a low voice.
"I'll help you with that, if you want."
He pulled back a little and smiled. Is this guy OK or is he some sort of pervert? Stopping halfway through a stroke, I whispered back, "Waddaya mean, help me?" What made me say a fucking stupid thing like that?
"Just open your door and I'll come in and help you get off."
Now believe me when I say I had wanked off with guys before, usually back at their place, never in a public place like this with a total stranger. Perverts do it in public toilets, don't they? Panic was about to set in. Not yet twenty, I was surely too young to be a pervert, wasn't I? I gave it barely a moment's thought before reaching out and sliding back the bolt on my door.
He smiled again as he closed and bolted the door behind him. He looked sensationally lecherous as he stood there, leaning back against the door. He was wearing a pair of skin tight faded denim jeans that seemed to have been spray-painted onto his groin. There was a dirty looking, grey-brown sweaty area around his balls and the ridge of his hard cock jutted from his balls towards his thigh. Thousands of guys wear jeans but these were something special: sexy, up-for-it horny hard man jeans. Fuck my Aunt Fanny (no, better still, fuck my cousin Robbie, he's gorgeous!) this guy looked tasty!
He had on a blue Chelsea football shirt, shiny and silky, tight enough to allow his body to display his pecs and nipples pressing against the fabric. He spread his legs wide as if he were a guardsman on parade and I noticed two shiny Army boots, battered and scuffed with long use but looking great. However, those fucking jeans grabbed most of my attention. Threadbare around the crotch and fly, generally faded and very thin, dirty where he had sweated the most. A very narrow waist, thighs that weren't too heavily muscled but straining the material just the same. I had never paid too much attention to jeans before - maybe I should have done. These bulged invitingly in front and I wondered what they looked like from behind.
I looked at him and saw a thin, tanned face with something of the appearance of a wild bird of prey about it. His hair was cropped in a Number One with long sideburns. His sharply pointed chin was decorated with an immaculately trimmed goatee. His coal black eyes sparkled and gold rings adorned each ear lobe. His thin, beak like nose had a diamond stud embedded in one nostril. He was fucking horny, the kind of guy I had only looked at and lusted after from a distance up till that moment. He leant forward and took hold of my throbbing cock. It jerked and dribbled a little clear stickiness into his palm. He made to give me a hug, but I froze and he backed off.
"Just make me shoot my load..." My voice trembled like a first time virgin.
Sensing my uneasiness, he smiled another reassuring, warm smile. He looked like a guy I might possibly grow to trust. He sank to his knees and engulfed me in a single motion. I was unprepared for such direct action and my mind and body fought for control. Through my head flashed all the lubricious tales and dire warnings I had ever heard about predatory older men taking advantage of guys scarcely out of boyhood, like me. My body, though, was not interested in these concerns. All it wanted and was screaming for was the ecstatic discharge this man was striving to provide. The physical rapidly overcame the mental and the uneven struggle did not last long.
He was good, better even than I ever thought it could be. I had had blowjobs a-plenty throughout my teenage years, but this was the best yet by a distance. An experienced mouth, not trying to dazzle with technique, just getting on with it, getting down to some basic action. He was doing everything to delight me, his tongue danced and swirled, he suctioned hard and bobbed his head from cock tip to cock root, burying his nose in my light brown pubes and swallowing my bulky cock straight down his throat. By the time he paused and pulled back to draw breath, I was focussed on only one thing; extinguishing the boiling cauldron in my balls.
"You've got a magnificent cock," he whispered, "you're going to get a lot of attention with this beaut. My guess is you're still inexperienced. Want me to go on?"
I groaned, unable to answer his question, and grabbed hold of the back of his head, pulling him towards my quivering cock. Time stood still as I rammed my distended dick into his sensitive mouth. His hands came up the back of my legs. One hand squeezed one of my arse cheeks and a finger wandered down my cleft, searching for my secret, unviolated back passage, while the other hand fondled and tugged gently on my balls. I was racing towards pure rapture and an orgasm like no other I had ever had in my brief life.
TO BE CONTINUED: Part 2 - Dressing to Look Sexy.