Chapter Three: Road Trip, Continued at California State University at Long Beach

Thanks to everyone for the mountain of email I received after the last episode. Not that it was any big secret, but it's still nice to hear that the world is full of horny guys who think nothing of crawling through the muck on a filthy men's room floor to put the cock of a complete stranger in their mouth! That's what I'm talkin bout!

Anyway, where were we? I had just emptied my nuts into the liquid-velvet mouth of some boy in the library at ASU, and was heading back to the hotel to get some rest before heading out the next day for sunny Southern California.

Different Strokes, Different Folks

If you're humming the "Diff'rent Strokes" theme song in your head right now, just stop it. It's not going to help and you'll only be dating yourself. Or is that me?

A well-meaning friend had suggested that I go spend a few days in the California desert at one of Palm Springs' clothing-optional gay resorts. Evidently it was like a sun-soaked bathhouse without the bad music. Not exactly my scene, but hey -- I was on an adventure, no? I checked in to a place (which shall remain nameless) and wandered out by the pool to see what was up. Lucky for you, dear reader, you are to be spared details of the herd of middle-aged walrus swishing, leering and groping in their FTL briefs, bar vests, and saggy piercings. OK, now I remember why I prefer my sex to be of the anonymous fratboy variety. Thirty minutes later I was at the Wyndham and all was more or less well again.

More Like It: California State University at Long Beach

For whatever reason, I was staying in Huntington Beach the next night, so I picked the closest campus that had a decent buzz on the Internet, CSULB, to begin my LA adventure. According to what I had read, there were the ubiquitous library, and also the business building as good subjects for exploration.

It took me something like 30 minutes to figure out how to get inside the library, and once I did, I located a pretty typical 50's-era 3-holer with a layout that really didn't lend itself to much hanky-panky. The stall doors had been replaced with shower curtains (!) and the whole place was deserted. I found this odd for 2PM on a Wednesday in the middle of the semester, but what was I gonna do? Well, wait for a whole ten minutes then beat feet to the other building, that's what.



Near as I can tell, there's only one men's room here. The building is a bit odd, with a big open courtyard in the middle and classrooms and offices around the perimeter. The john is on the second floor, near the corner.

Now, I don't know who the architect of this building was, but I would be willing to put fifty bucks on the fact that whoever it was had spent a great deal of time on their knees in various men's rooms around the country. Seriously, if you passed out comment cards in every college tearoom in North America and asked people to pull the cocks out of their mouths for a minute and fill it out, you still couldn't have designed a better tearoom.

The squeaky, heavy metal door opened into a small vestibule, maybe 1M square. This was followed by yet another squeaky, heavy metal door. Even if the doors had been silent, the difference in pressure caused the whole ventilation system to change pitch when either one opened, completely eliminating the chance of a Bad Guy sneaking in. The room itself, or should I say, collection of rooms, was basically enormous. Directly in front of the entry door was a large room with maybe 20 urinals arranged around the walls. To the left was a long corridor, about 25 feet. On the corridor's left wall were six or eight sinks with mirrors, and on the right a smaller handicapped-specific room with a stall, urinal and sink. I'm pretty sure that the average clueless shitter would be just happy as can be to drop trou and do their thing right in there, without ever pushing further to find the other stalls.

Which, of course, brings us to the other stalls. At the end of the corridor, after a right turn, was yet another corridor. This one held ten stalls, arranged five on a side and facing each other. Numbers two and four on each side had the doors removed, and there were large, professionally-cut gloryholes between numbers one and two on each side. I was hard just thinking about the possibilities this place held.

When I entered, I walked all the way to the end, just to kind of survey the situation, and couldn't help but notice that the last two stalls (let's just call them 1L and 1R from here on out, OK?) were occupied. As was 2L, a doorless one, with a cute Mario Lopez-type guy just sitting there minding his own business. 3R also had an occupant. Since I have an aversion to doorless stalls, I decided to take 3L, next to Slater.

OK, listen up, people! The next few pages are likely going to seem fantastical to you -- maybe too good to be true. Please keep in mind that this episode, like all the others are completely true -- I have not made up or embellished anything. There have been times when I was maybe a bit too kind in my description of a person, but that's how I saw them at the time; the raging boner in my pants and the sheer quantity of pheromones in that room are to blame. I only say this because the afternoon in question was an absolute zoo. There was a lot more that went on that I simply don't remember clearly enough to include.


As soon as I dropped my shorts and had a seat, I noticed that there was a small peephole in the wall between me and Slater. Looking I saw that he had his arm up to the elbow in the gloryhole, obviously jerking the guy off. Hot! I got down on my knees in front of the peephole and pulled my dick, just enjoying the show. Periodically, Slater would withdraw his arm and commence begging the guy to put his dick through, but he wasn't having any luck. I couldn't see the object of his obsession, but I could see that he had a titty mag in there with him! Double hot! I climbed back up on my perch after a while and leaned over to take a quick footwear inventory. Not much to see, really. Slater, the guy across from me, and the guy in 1R all had on white sneakers of some kind that I really couldn't identify because their pants were obscuring most of them. The guy with the titty mag in 1L had on some very big black work boots. Triple hot! Oops! What's this? Somehow I had missed the fact that 5R was also occupied, this one with a slacks-and-dress-shoes professor type.

I went back to watching the shenanigans next door and a minute later heard the doors squeak open and someone enter. Just a pisser. Slater didn't stop his ministrations; I guess he was familiar enough with the sound and traffic to know that he had plenty of time to straighten up should the intruder head down our way.

A few minutes later, someone else came in. This time they made a beeline for the stalls and did a walk to the end, just as I had done. He came back and stopped outside my door, so I reached up and opened it. There stood a pretty-cute, 20-ish blond guy. He was tall, curly hair, wearing a t-shirt, basketball shorts, and some pretty big, beat-up old white Nikes, and carrying a bookbag. Just my type. He smiled at me and groped himself for a minute but didn't come in. Instead, he moved on down the line, peeking into door cracks and for some reason ignoring Slater. I shut my door and sat back to wait and see what would happen. About 30 seconds later, he was back. Rather than wait for me to open the door, he dropped his shorts to the floor and knelt down outside my stall, sliding his legs and long, slender, blond-haired dick under.

What's that I always say? Oh, yeah. You don't have to ask me twice. I squatted down and reached out to stroke his thighs, which were lightly tanned and covered in curly, very light blond hair. Reaching up to fondle his nuts, I leaned forward and swooped down on his bone. It was one of those super-hard-and-smooth ones that just seem to go directly down your throat. He didn't have much smell at all, but that was OK because he was really appreciative of the job I was doing, hunching his hips forward quickly and groaning quietly.

One of my favorite things to do when I'm blowing a guy in this position is to reach under and stroke his butthole. The guy nearly always enjoys it, and I like the way it makes my finger smell, so I guess it's what you'd call a win-win. I gave him some soft strokes and also managed to reach further and wrap my hands around those big ol' Nikes (it gets me off, what can I say?). After less than a minute, he started saying "I'm gonna come I'm gonna come I'm gonna come" over and over. I guess he was trying to give me fair warning if I wanted to pull off but what with the people starving in China and all I just couldn't see wasting all that protein so I gulped it right on down.

Five seconds later, Blondie was up and outta there. How weird that he could have gone into the stall next to me to do that, but instead decided to do it out in the open. Maybe he wanted an audience? Who knows.

After maybe fifteen minutes of slap-and-tickle going on between Slater and Boots Guy everyone else had yet to make a move. I came out of my stall and took a peek in the door cracks, but really couldn't see much, and nobody seemed too interested so I returned to my stall to wait and see what might come along. It wasn't long before another guy came in and headed for the stalls. He just stood at the entrance to the stall area for a minute, so I looked under and saw a nice, well-worn pair of Asics. Booyah! I love Asics! I could also tell from his stance that he was jerking, so I opened my door and peeked out. Handsome, textbook fratboy with dark hair and an average-to-thick cut boner sticking out of the fly of his jeans. He gave me a "what's up" gesture with his chin and then went back to slowly stroking his bone.

I just stood there, stroking along with him. Presently, 1R opened and a cute 20-something boy-next-door type popped his head out to see what the commotion was. He decided to stay for the show, and stepped halfway out of his stall so everyone could see what he was up to. Another average dick, nothing special. After a minute, Fratboy started walking slowly down the row of stalls. Now it became clear that this guy was getting off on the attention and seemed to be more into his attitude than messing around. I wondered if he was actually going to do anything or just parade around for us. My question was answered when he hung a left just past my stall and stepped into Slater's.

He pointed his dick at Slater's mouth with his thumb and unceremoniously shoved it in to the hilt. With two hands on his head, he fucked him in the mouth pretty brutally. Slater was gagging and struggling for breath but didn't seem to be of a mind to stop him. Since my view was blocked by him standing in the door, I stepped up on the rim of the toilet in my stall so I could peek over. Fratboy looked up at me with an evil grin, then went back to piledriving Slater's face. From my vantage point, I could also sort-of see down through the gloryhole and was able to understand Slater's urgency before. Something very big was being flogged in there. After a couple minutes, Fratboy lurched his hips hard into Slater's face, closed his eyes, and you could just see every muscle in his body twitch as he delivered a load directly into the guy's gullet. Lucky bastard.

As Fratboy was leaving, someone else was coming in. This new person headed directly for 2R, another doorless stall directly across from Slater. Through the crack in my door, I could easily see him sitting there, pants around his ankles, legs spread, stroking a smallish boner. This guy was pretty cute, latin-y, very small -- what I would call a "spinner". If you know what I mean.

What he lacked in stature he made up for in boldness, though; he was all about showing off for Slater, me, and Boy Next Door through the gloryhole. Before long, he was standing at the gloryhole and enjoying a blowjob. This seemed to inspire Slater, who hiked up his pants and went across to join them. It was kind of comical seeing Spinner Boy trying to bend over enough to get Slater's dick in his mouth without pulling out of the glory hole. Finally he figured it out and dropped to his knees so he could slide his dick under the stall divider while he blew Slater at the same time.

Now might be a good time to mention that Slater was sporting a really, really nice penis. Slightly on the long side of average with a nice foreskin and fairly thick. It had a nice upward curve to it, and I would give it a 9.0 on the suckability scale. Spinner Boy concurred, evidently, because he really made an effort to get that thing as deep in him as he could.

While this was going on, I just stood in the door of my stall with the door open, pulling my pud and enjoying the show. I heard a creaking sound and noticed that the door in front of me, 3R was very slowly opening. I looked over and smiled at whoever was in there, trying to induce them to come out and play. Eventually he did, after first peeking his head out the door to try and see what was happening next to him (no luck). He turned out to be a tall, maybe 6' 2" Dwight Yoakam type, maybe 30, in jeans and a t-shirt. He would only look at the floor, never making eye contact. I think someone was either nervous or feeling really guilty. He also happened to have an enormous penis. I'm not good with inches, but it was one of the longer ones I have ever seen (equal to Timberlands from ASU, but not quite as thick) and easily qualified him for pornstar status.

As this was going on, Boy Next Door seemed to have finished his project because the trio was sort of separating. As Spinner Boy pulled his dick out from under the stall, Boy Next Door made a hasty exit. Slater was still hanging in there, with Spinner Boy now squatting in front of him continuing to suck. I started over for Dwight, hoping to get a chance to blow that nice big thing, but he completely freaked out and scampered back to his stall. Shit. So then I thought about moving down to 1R and taking over where Boy Next Door had left off. This train of thought was cut short by Spinner Boy pulling Slater's dick out of his mouth with a pop, looking up, and asking, "You wanna stick it in me?"

Evidently, you don't have to ask Slater twice either. He reached down and pulled the kid up by the armpits. The little fucker spun around on his own, pulled one foot out of his shorts, took a wide stance, and bent over, bracing his hands on the toilet. Slater stepped right up, drooled a big wad of spit into the kid's buttcrack, and proceeded to push his uncovered cock inside in one smooth shove. As soon as I saw that bare cockhead breach the kid's butthole I was dangerously close to losing my nut without even stroking. Talk about fucking hot. I moved across the corridor to get a better look, and Slater was nice enough to turn slightly so that I could get a nice profile shot of his fat boner sliding in and out of Spinner Boy's hole. I reached out and stroked Slater's ass, running my finger into the crack but he shook his head and said, "You're gonna make me cum."

It was about this time that I remembered Boots Guy in the corner with his Penthouse or whatever, probably feeling left out. So I decided to step on over to Slater's stall and get a look firsthand at what was on the other side of that hole.

Ethical question: How long does someone's "place" in a stall last? In a situation like this, where Slater had vacated the stall and was obviously otherwise engaged, had he given up his claim on the stall, or does it remain his until he leaves the tearoom or takes another stall? Was I out of line to take it?


I dropped to my knees and took a peek. From what I could see, there was a nice long pair of legs, lanky but with some muscle, lightly haired, a pair of dark blue custodian-type pants around the ankles, a matching shirt, and a very large pair of dirty hands pulling on a cock that was a twin to Dwight's down in 3R. The magazine lay on the floor between his enormous booted feet, open to a picture of...I dunno, something pink and slimy. I motioned for him to put his dick through but was ignored. So I reached my hand in and was allowed to grab his cock. It was bone hard, fat, long, and perfect. As I stroked, I turned around to see Slater bent over Spinner Boy, humping rapidly. My guess was that Slater was sperming his insides, and I think I was right.

So here I was, on my knees in this open stall. My left hand (my jacking hand, by the way) through the gloryhole taking care of Boots Guy's big boner and my right taking care of myself. Across the way, Slater pulls out of Spinner Boy's ass, which is now wet, slimy, and puffy. Damn. That sounds like lunch to me! For about three seconds I considered crawling over there and burying my face in the middle of the mess but before I could do more than think about it, the door to 3R opened and out stepped Dwight, pants open, big drippy boner cocked and ready. As Slater moved aside and pulled up his pants, Dwight stepped up behind Spinner Boy and at that moment I realized he was going to fuck him. Jesus, the thought of this tiny little 5' 6" kid's butthole impaled on that raw horsecock was so sick, wrong, and incredibly hot! Before I could stop myself, I let loose with four or five long squirts of jizz, moaning out loud "Fuck that's hot!" I'm not usually a squirter but this time I got nearly three feet on a couple of `em.

My little outburst seemed to bring Spinner Boy to his senses and he stood up and turned around, saying something to Dwight. I couldn't hear what it was but clearly the poor guy had been denied access to pussy. I guess to make up for it, Spinner Boy squatted down and quickly impaled his face on Dwight's big dong, really cramming his mouth down on the cock as far as he could go. It wasn't that far, but still. E for effort.

Some of my more astute readers may remember that I don't usually like to stick around once I nut, and my instinct at this point was to bolt. I went back into my stall and sat down, wiping up with some toilet paper and catching my breath. As I sat there, I could still see the blowjob going on in front of the stall door, and my dick was slimed up and still half-hard, so I decided to give it a few strokes and wait a bit before leaving. I opened up the door and just leaned back, stroking and watching the little guy attack that huge cock like crazy. Dwight just stood there, looking down, hands held out to his sides like he was afraid he'd get them dirty or something. After a couple minutes, he was ready and tried to pull his dick away so he could jerk off. Spinner Boy was having none of that, and wrapped his arms around his waist, holding him in place while he nutted. The struggle was kinda funny, and I was briefly jealous of him, getting goo from such a fine specimen.

OK, now was a good time to leave. Dwight went back to his stall and proceeded to wipe himself raw with toilet paper, I guess trying to remove any trace of the sin. I closed my door and went ahead and cleaned up my own sticky self, then hiked up my britches and was just about to leave when I heard Boots Guy shuffling around like he was making a move. I just figured he was going to split but I wanted to get a good look at him so I hung back in my stall. Dwight took off like a bat out of hell, and Spinner Boy was still sitting on his toilet with his legs spread wide and dick pointed at the ceiling.

After what seemed like an eternity, I heard Boots Guy's door creak open, then his heavy footsteps. I was planning on just happening to open my stall door as he walked by, but he didn't pass. Instead, he stopped right in front of his stall. I could see through the crack that Spinner Boy was really interested in whatever was going on out there, so I quickly opened my door and stuck my head out.

And there he stood.

I'm pretty sure there was a divine light and a choir of angels too, but I'm a little fuzzy on that part. This man was gorgeous. Note that isn't a word I use often. And I'm not talking Joey Tribiani gorgeous. I'm talking Oh-my-dear-fucking-god-my-heart-just-stopped gorgeous.

He was tall, maybe 6' 3", with messed up, medium-length brown hair. Broad shoulders and an amazing upper body that showed clearly through his uniform (mechanic, I finally figured out). Perfect face with high cheekbones and these dark eyes that just screamed out all sorts of vaguely threatening sexual things. In his left hand he held his porno mag. In his right, he gripped his big cock as it stuck out of the fly of his uniform pants. His cock was literally throbbing -- you know how when you are super horned up and about to cum it gets all shiny and the veins stand out? His was doing that. And on his face, a look I can only describe as abject terror. Boots Guy was venturing into uncharted territory, and I was lucky enough to be here to watch.

Coming to my senses, I remembered that Spinner Boy and his cum-slicked butthole/mouth combo were closer to him than I was so I knew I had to move fast if I didn't want to lose out. I walked the three or four steps to him, dropped to my knees, and opened my mouth. He just shook his head. Fuck.

Regrouping, I moved back a bit and reached up to stroke it. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. His whole body was shivering. After a few seconds he opened his eyes and looked down at me, lost and still panicked. I said, "Squirt your sperm in my face" (I dunno why I like that term, it just sounds extra-nasty). He looked over at Spinner Boy, who had moved forward on the toilet and was now leaned back with his legs spread wide, obscenely fingering his slippery butthole. He wanted that ass reamed again but it was not gonna happen with Boots Guy. Oh, no, it was not!

I squeezed his dick harder and said it again, "Squirt your sperm in my face."


He folded his magazine in half and tucked it into the back waistband of his pants, then using his left hand he pushed my forehead back to arms' length and held it there. With his right, he started long, fast strokes on his fat tool and within seconds he rose up on his toes, fell back against the wall, and squirted me right in the kisser.

It was a nice load, four or five shots, but nothing tremendously copious or powerful. Two of them hit my tongue and I almost had another hard cum myself as I swallowed it down.

The second he was done, without even putting his dick away, Boots Guy fled -- stopping at the sink to wash his hands and put things away -- and ran out the door. Wow.

I looked over to my right and there was Spinner Boy, a huge load of jizz on the floor in front of him and a huge grin on his face. He said, "That was fucking hot."

When you're right, you're right. And Spinner Boy was on the money with this one. Of course, now I was rearing to go again, my boner was hard and sore, like it gets when you've been doing it too much. And Spinner Boy's wet puffy hole was looking mighty good to me right then. No harm in asking, right?

"Hey, I know you just came and everything, you think I could fuck you real quick?"

"Nah, dude, sorry. I gotta go." Fuck. I briefly considered begging and trying to explain that it would only take a minute, but ultimately decided to just let it go. He clearly wasn't in to it. Besides, I could probably rub one out in about five minutes on my own.

Spinner Boy pulled up his shorts without cleaning up, said later, and split. No washing of the hands or face, nothing. Cool. That boy was a grade A pig. I imagined him sitting in class later with Slater's spoo oozing out of his butthole.

I headed over to 1R in the now-empty bathroom, dropped my shorts again, and had a seat. As I leaned back and stroked, I thought about the shit that had happened today, but mostly about Boots Guy. Considering that I was already pretty close to losing another nut, I hadn't given much thought to trying to score with someone else. I was honestly exhausted, my dick was red, sticky, and sore, and I just wanted to cum and go.

So imagine my surprise and delight when the telltale squeak of the outer door signaled that someone was about to join me. Would it be a doddering professor in for a leisurely shit? A sweaty jock looking to blow away some testosterone after a hard game of basketball? Or had Boots Guy's curiosity and hormones gotten the best of him?

Stay tuned for Episode Four to find out!

To be continued...

I hope you enjoyed episode 3. By all means, if there's anything I can do to make your masturbation experience better; don't hesitate to let me know.

Important note: The latest information I have says that the business building at CSULB is no longer safe for these kinds of shenanigans. All doors have been removed and UPD are making regular checks and arrests for trespassing if you aren't a student. Enjoy the story but let this one go, guys.