TRUE CONFESSIONS OF a MENS' ROOM PERVERT by firstname.lastname@example.org
Chapter One: My First Time
I first learned about tearoom sex ten years ago, during my senior year in college. Amazing how, as a sex-crazed college student with some pretty strong fetishes, the whole "frat boys screwing in the library bathroom" thing just totally escaped me. This story (and those that follow) is an actual, 100% real recollection of the people, places, and things that happened. In most cases I will leave the names of the universities and buildings intact where it doesn't seem like any harm will be done but in a couple of cases where the environment is volatile and the tearooms are still active I will disguise them a bit.
A Bit of Background
Being a horny college guy in a Midwestern town, I naturally gravitated toward the places where there was dick to be found. In Columbia, Missouri, that was a sleazy adult bookstore not far from the MU campus called The Olde Un Theatre. In the early 90's, there weren't really any other options - one gay bar that was really pathetic in that small-town-big-drama kind of way, an occasionally-active park, and the bookstore. They had a few booths with glory holes but most of the time it was hit-or-miss. A bigger attraction, at least late at night, was the parking lot across the street from said bookstore. I met many guys there over the course of a couple years and fucked a fair share. I also became familiar with the "regulars", guys who would be there night after night ready to pounce on anything with a schlong that happened by.
One of the most regular of the regulars was a completely unremarkable man: mid-40's, pudgy, bad comb-over, lots of gold jewelry and a sports car. He was basically harmless and well-tolerated by those of us who thought we were cute enough to have to tolerate someone who wasn't. One thing that stood out about him, though, were his stories. Literally every time I ran into him in that parking lot, he would bring the conversation around to his latest conquest. Usually it went something like this:
Him: Boy, I had a hot one last night.
Me: Oh yeah?
Him: Yeah! 18, blond, blue eyes, and he begged me to fuck him 3 times!
Me: Oh yeah?
Of course nobody believed him; it was just his schtick. One night though, I finally just laughed at him and said, "Why do you keep saying silly shit like that? Nobody believes you. Where the hell are you meeting horny young guys who want sex with you?" He stared at me for a minute and then said, "Well Ellis of course."
Ellis? Ellis Library on campus? He assured me that all 5 floors were veritable feasts of college boy dick. Not exactly being an academic, I hadn't spent much time in the library and in fact had never had occasion to do more than take a quick piss in the johns there.
But armed with this information, I set out to see what I could see (and suck) the following afternoon (a Monday). That day would change my life forever. No, really!
UNIVERSITY OF MISSOURI - COLUMBIA
FIRST FLOOR MENS ROOM
I can remember my hands shaking as I walked through the back doors of Ellis and up the steps to the first floor. I wasn't nervous so much as I was excited. There was a major adrenaline rush going on. Not sure where to start, I figured floor 1 would be as good as any.
I had messed around in a few park and mall mens rooms before, so I knew how the logistics worked. All I had to do was figure out where the bathroom in question was and see what was there.
In this library, each bathroom has a completely different layout. The first floor had a large room with a long jog to the right as you entered. Two or three urinals on the right and on the left around the corner, two regular and one handicapped stall. All the bathroom stalls at MU are the same type - metal dividers raised about a foot off the floor and painted a nice shiny dark blue. Privacy wasn't great but you had a second or so to straighten up before anyone entering could see what was going on.
As luck would have it, the middle stall was open so I went in, dropped my jeans, and had a seat. It took about 2 seconds to figure out how this worked. If I leaned forward just a bit, I could see the head-to-toe reflection of the guy in the next stall in the nice shiny paint. Christ, this wasn't even subtle! Mind you, I'm not talking about a mirror-quality reflection, but enough to tell the guy was white and had dark hair. And wouldn't you know, said guy was leaning back with his legs spread pulling his pud. I leaned down and looked under both stalls. Nobody on the handicapped side, and my neighbor was sporting a pair of white Nikes and some nice hairy legs.
After a couple of minutes, he stood up and moved closer to the front of the stall and I did likewise. Now we could both get a pretty good look and did just that as we both jerked off for the reflections. This guy had pulled the front of his shirt up behind his head and was showing a nicely muscled body and a bigger-than-average dick. I was already doing better than a month of bookstore conquests!
I decided to squat down and see if I could get a feel. No problem there. This guy squatted right down and we swapped hand jobs for a minute. I remember two things vividly about this experience: the guy had an abundance of foreskin, and his spit-slicked hand felt fucking fantastic on my cock. I was ready to nut right there and go home happy when someone walked in and we had to scramble to our respective seats.
The intruder made his way to the handicapped stall and I can remember my heart racing at the prospect of getting to mess with two guys at once. As soon as he was seated I leaned down to have a peek and my racing heart sank. Old Man Shoes. You know - vinyl Jaclyn Smith brand or something with Velcro straps. What a turnoff. A minute later a liver-spotted claw found its way under the stall and started groping blindly at my legs. This was not working for me, no, not at all.
A brief commentary: We all get old. It's beginning to happen to me right now. Not old as in liver spots and vinyl shoes, but still I get sneered at today by guys who ten years ago would have dropped to their knees in a second. And you know what? I don't mind old guys in tearooms trying to get a little action. After all, what am I gonna do for that sweet, sweet, boy-booty when I'm 60? What are you? I've even been known to play a bit if the moment and attitude is right. What I have a problem with is people of any age, size, shape, or color who horn in on someone else's action and won't stay on the sidelines if their company isn't wanted. This guy happened to be old but his behavior is not unique to old guys. It seems as if some people just assume since we're violating some of the traditional rules of society by sniffing after cock in a public mens room that we may as well throw out all the rules and act like an ass. But I digress.
I slapped the interloper's hand away and waited patiently for him to leave but unfortunately he was having none of that. Finally I figured I would try to get the cute guy on the other side to squat back down and hope that if we ignored our neighbor he would go away. No sooner had we gotten down to business again than I felt a clammy hand in my crack and turned around to see this guy half-slid under the partition into my stall and groping again. This time I smacked him away a bit harder and gave him a look that left no doubt about whether or not he was invited to join in.
He slid back to his own stall but waited there, just past the partition, gawking and panting.
That was it; the moment was over. We returned to our seats and attempted to wait him out. After about 5 minutes my hunky guy with the magic hands pulled up his pants and left. No sooner had he left than gramps scampered across to the other stall and pressed his face against the corner of the partition trying to get a look at me.
I know when I'm defeated. I pulled up my pants and left, hoping to maybe catch Mr. Magic Hands but no luck.
So, the first floor was a good start. My appetite had been whetted. But I was not going to go home with an empty stomach and a full nutsack, so I took the logical next step and headed up to the second floor.
SECOND FLOOR MENS ROOM
The second floor has a similar layout to the first but is smaller and more labyrinthine. You enter into a hallway halfway between sinks on the left and urinals on the right. Around the corner past the urinals on the left were four stalls (this has since been reduced to three thanks to the ADA). Nobody was pissing or washing up at the time but when I opened the door I heard the telltale sounds of things being put away and doors being quickly shut. A minute later I took the far stall, dropped trou, and had a seat. I was happy to find a couple of eye-level peepholes in the divider and took a look. These were small peepholes and didn't afford much of a view - you had to wait and hope whoever was over there would move around enough that you could get a look at everything. The guy next to me didn't seem to be aware of the holes but did lean forward to look under his stall divider. When he did I saw a very cute youngish guy with dark hair. Classic early-90's fratboy. I leaned down to see a pair of black suede New Balance (very unique then) and jeans.
Another note: Notice how I keep talking about the shoes guys are wearing? Remember I mentioned at the beginning that I have some pretty strong fetishes? How good are you at math? For more information, check out my somewhat-related story about a straight guy and his Filas. Link at the end.
While I was leaning down, Cute Fratboy scooted off the toilet with his six-inch boner standing tall, turned, and dropped to his knees! Unfortunately, his business end was pointed the other way and as he slid his knees and cock under the partition whoever was on the other side went right to work giving a very noisy blowjob. Fratboy was definitely into it, humping the mouth that was working on him while he leaned back on his hands. He had the nicest smooth white round butt that I just wanted to dive into face first.
I climbed off the toilet and crouched down, hoping this guy would come to his senses, turn around, and feed me some of his meat. He didn't, but he did do the strangest thing - something I have not seen since: while he was kneeling, getting sucked, he leaned back - all the way back, so that we were almost face-to-face - and grinned at me. God he was cute. He motioned for me to slide my dick under and while he wasn't able to reach with his mouth he did wrap his hand around it and squeeze. Actually, he squeezed about 7 or 8 times in a row and I realized that he was unloading in the other guy's mouth. Dang. A few seconds later, he was up and outta there.
Figuring whoever had just taken care of him must have known what they were doing, I moved down to his recently-vacated stall hoping to get some of what he just had. The seat was still warm from his cute little round ass as I sat down and bent down to take a look at the guy next door. He was wearing what I used to call (still do, I guess) "band dork shoes" but I really didn't get a chance to reflect on this because he pulled up his pants and split right about then. Well, shit.
I was definitely horned up now. That last kid had been so fucking beautiful, and that mischievous grin was too much. I was pissed that he had nutted without including me! But what could I do? I decided to wait a few minutes and see if something else came along.
While I waited, I passed the time reading the various graffiti on the stall walls and pulled on my dick, bringing myself just to the point of cumming a couple of times then backing off. After maybe 20 minutes nobody had come in and I was feeling the need to get on with things. One of the notes on the wall said "JESSE BASEMENT AFTERNOONS" so I figured I may as well head across the street and see what was available there.
BASEMENT MENS ROOM
Jesse is the old admin building and everyone is pretty familiar with it. I had pissed in a few bathrooms there before but didn't remember anything special. As I looked around in the basement, I couldn't find anything that even remotely resembled a bathroom.
Finally I stopped in the coffee shop/snack bar thing and casually asked if there was a bathroom nearby. The cute redhead behind the counter just kind of smirked and pointed to a door in the corner.
Well, I never. The door did have a small "MEN" sign on it but you really would never know it was there if you weren't looking for it. This place is in the corner of the basement, far away from the "normal" bathroom locations. As nonchalantly as I could, I strolled over and opened the door. It was a big, heavy, wooden affair with a knob you had to turn to get in. As it opened, it scraped the floor making a loud noise. Perfect.
The door didn't open into a bathroom; rather, it opened into an empty room about 12 by 12 feet. On the other side was another door. I crossed and opened that door, which let me into a large bathroom. In a small alcove on the left were sinks, and straight ahead a short corridor with urinals on the right and 3 stalls on the left, the last being a double-wide handicapped model.
The handicapped stall was occupied and the middle stall had had the door removed. For some reason I'm a little weird about doorless stalls so I went to the far urinal and pulled out my dick to start stroking. Slowly I turned around and tried to get a look. This turned out to be pretty easy because there's a huge gap between the door and wall of the last stall. And who did I find sitting back and stroking his big uncut boner but Mr. Magic Hands. I walked over to the stall door and he stood up and opened it, then just held his big dick by the base and wagged it at me.
Now might be a good time to describe this guy: about 5' 10", sandy brown hair, handsome. Moderately hairy body and legs with a lanky build. I would guess him to be about 22 or 23 at the time. Nice smile but he didn't use it much. Really hard ass with a nice deep (and fragrant) crack. You don't have to ask me twice. I dropped to my knees and slurped down on that big bone right quick. For the next five minutes or so the rest of the world disappeared and I just worshiped his big uncut dong and sweaty nutsack. As he started to get closer, he wrapped his hands around my head and started power-fucking my mouth. I was ready to get squirted, pulling on my own dick with my left hand while I stroked his balls with my right. We were both just about there when we heard the outer door squeak open and I scrambled over to the opposite stall, leaving the doorless middle one empty.
I sat impatiently, trying to decide if I should put in the 3 strokes it would take me to spray or try to hold it until the new guy either left or stayed to play. Within a few seconds, he entered the middle stall, dropped his pants, and had a seat. I peeked under and saw a huge pair of beat-up, paint-splattered old Nikes (I'm estimating 13s for those keeping track), jeans, and a long skinny pair of lightly haired legs. For some reason the shoes struck me as belonging to a workman who was there to shit so I sat back up and tended to my dick for a second.
I heard a shuffling sound and peered under again to see only New Guy's ass and soles, because his legs and cock were pressed under the other stall. I opened my door and peeked around to see who was getting the Magic Hands treatment, honestly expecting to see a balding, middle-aged drywall guy or something. No idea why.
What I saw instead was a young guy, maybe 19 or 20. Tall, thin, with long crazy dark hair and a cute face - total hippy, earthboy type. He was clearly enjoying the handjob and paid me no attention so I exited my stall and walked over to the other one so I could get a look at the handiwork through the crack in the door.
OK, first things first. The boy was hung. Huge. Fucking enormous. Probably 7 ½ or 8 inches long and so incredibly fat I said "fuck" out loud. Nice and straight and bone hard with a shiny, pink head, a small dark bush, and a pair of nuts the size of eggs in his hairless ballbag.
My exclamation prompted the other guy to reach up and unlatch the stall door after which he went back to work on Cockzilla with both hands. The whole thing was just hot and nasty - this handsome guy on his knees drooling spit down on the other guy's fat, fat, cuntbuster of a cock, stroking it up and around with both hands, and his cute furry butt sticking up in the air.
I decided to go on into the handicapped stall so I could spend some quality time with Mr. Magic Hands' butthole, and for the next couple of minutes tongued, licked, and sucked to my heart's content. All good things must come to an end, though, and presently Granola Boy whispered "suck it". Now, I was already surprised that my butt-buddy didn't have that amazing bone buried in his gullet from the get-go. But I was amazed when he whispered back that he didn't suck - he just wanted to stroke it.
I can appreciate the aesthetic pleasure one receives from holding something that magnificent in your hands. But turning your nose up at an offer to consume it? Sorry, that's just silly. So, I pulled my well-glazed face out of the ass in front of me, then sort of knee-walked out and in front of the open stall, then motioned for him to feed me that thing and feed me he did.
He stood up in the doorway, put his hands on his hips and looked down at that appendage sticking out like a goddamned telephone pole. Then he looked up at me and smiled the horniest, cutest smile I think I have ever seen. His eyes just sparkled and seemed to say, "come on and let's do this really nasty thing together."
I dove. It was a bit of work to get more than the head in my mouth without scraping him but I rallied and managed to get about half of him choked down. There was no way that thing would go down my throat no matter how hard I tried. And believe me, I tried. Granola Boy didn't seem to mind, though. He just stood there with a contented smile and watched me work. After a couple minutes, our friend came out of his stall and stood right next to my face, jerking off. He leaned in to kiss the owner of the tumescent marvel, who quickly turned his head about the same time Mr. Magic Hands squirted a medium-ish load all over the side of my face and the horsecock. It made a nice condiment as I licked it up and slurped it down.
As MH left, we sort of temporarily went back to our positions, I guess in case someone happened to be coming in as he was going out. Good thing, too, because someone did. It was an older black guy wearing basketball shorts, a t-shirt, and ball cap along with fairly new hightop Nikes. Luckily, he wasted no time and pulled out a boner at the urinals the minute he walked up. I peeked through the crack in my door as he stroked it for my beautiful, donkey-dicked hippy next door. After about 30 seconds nobody had made any moves so I opened my door, knelt in front of the neighboring stall, and was immediately presented with that blue-ribbon boner I had begun to crave.
Over the next ten minutes or so I continued to suck and lick the beautiful boy's beautiful cock and lave his enormous, funky-smelling nuts with spit. This boy did have a bouquet about him (another one of my power-turnons) and I'm guessing he was well into his second day without a shower. Not a problem for me: more funk, please! All this time, the other guy was standing at the urinal stroking up and down a nice fat cut cock. In my first moment of conscious pighood, I made the decision to hold off cumming while I was blowing Granola Boy and take on the other guy after GB nutted.
So, I sucked, and licked, and tongued, and gagged, and slurped, and was just a real happy camper there on my knees on the floor of the mens room. Finally, and without any warning or expression, Granola Boy erupted in my mouth with about 7 shots of sticky hippy goo. It had an extremely bitter taste (not that I minded) and I happily gulped down every bit.
When I was finished licking him clean, I let go of his dong and he smiled down at me, saying "that other guy finished already". He pointed to a puddle of jizz on the floor in front of the urinal that marked the spot where my next cock had been waiting. Disappointed, I asked him if he would stay there for a minute and he said sure. So, with my right hand wrapped around his wet, half-hard dick and my nose buried in his ripe nutsack, I stroked my way to an incredible orgasm in about 15 seconds. This was one of those rare orgasms where you can actually feel the jizz traveling up your dick and out. Amazing.
As soon as I was done, Granola Boy pulled up his pants, said he'd see me around, and headed out.
As I cleaned up in the sink, I thought to myself that this afternoon was the most intense sexual experience of my life. And I vowed to come back again real soon.
A Bit of Follow-Up
Within hours, I knew I was addicted to tearoom sex. The danger, the mystery of who was in the next stall, the ready availability, and the generally high quality of the guys just totally eclipsed the usual experience of picking up a guy in a bar and then trying to figure out how to get rid of him once you nutted. I would have many, many, many more experiences on the MU campus before I left town a few years later.
Mr. Magic Hands turned out to be a regular and a bit skittish. We hooked up a couple of times again after that, but usually he avoided me. I don't know whether he was mad that I got to gulp the goo and he didn't, or whether he was just one of those guys who don't like to get it on with the same person twice. Funny, I didn't see him for several years and then ran into him in a tearoom (several times) in Seattle not too long ago. He tried to pretend it wasn't him but the dick was a dead giveaway.
Granola Boy turned out to be my favorite memory of MU. He was a work-study in Ellis library and about once every month or so I would run into him in the 2nd floor bathroom. He didn't say much but was always ready with that big beautiful amazing boner and a mouthful of goo, followed by his conspiratorial smile. Eventually we talked a bit and I learned his name. I also discovered that he was straight but just really liked the blowjobs he got from guys. Periodically I would see him with his girlfriend (and later, their baby) on the street. A couple of years ago, I was home for Christmas and stopped into a store to pick something up and there he was. Older, hair cut and wearing the unfortunate polyester of a retail sales clerk but still smokin' hot. He saw me but didn't react and I waited about 30 minutes for him in the john but he never showed. Bummer.
So there you have the story of my first time doing it in a campus mens room. If there's interest I have plenty more to write about, from all over the US.
For those of you interested in my foot-shoe thing, you might want to take a look at another story I wrote: nifty/gay/encounters/foot-sucking-pervert
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