TRUE CONFESSIONS OF a MENS' ROOM PERVERT by firstname.lastname@example.org
Chapter Four: Road Trip, Continued at California State University at Long Beach
Well. I thought the last chapter was pretty good -- standout even. Evidently I was wrong, judging by the whopping two emails I received. In much the same way that it's only fun to hang out in mens rooms if you occasionally get a facefull of goo, it's only fun writing about this stuff if people occasionally tell you they enjoy hearing about it. I'm just sayin...
So, this chapter is for the guy in Oregon who regaled me with tales of sucking all that clean-cut farmboy cock at Mizzou back in the Beaver Cleaver era (hot!).
Now let's get back to my filthy little diary. We left off with me exhausted but still horny, hard, and dripping in stall 1R. My attempt at mating with Spinner Boy had been rebuffed and I had just settled in to rub out a quick one on my own. With the image of Boots Guy's terrified performance still fresh in my mind, I didn't figure it would take long.
Two more for the road
I heard the door squeak open and immediately wondered if Boots Guy's curiosity had gotten the better of him. Silly, I know. Guys like that don't just turn up in these places every day, and when they're that freaked out about what they're doing, they tend to stay away for long periods of time. But a guy can dream.
In the meantime, I heard someone approaching and peered down through the gloryhole to see if I could get a glimpse of the footwear or anything else interesting as he came by. Soon enough, a pair of black workboots wandered by and went into 1L, where Boots Guy had been before. Though I couldn't tell from my vantage point if they were as enormous as his, I was still pretty damned excited.
This excitement wasn't to last too long, however. Leaning to one side, you could look through the crack of your door directly into the crack of the door across the way. If the occupant there was doing the same, you got eye contact.
He was and we did, but he was most definitely not Boots Guy. Nope, this time my dance partner was a slightly pudgy, mid-30's bearded guy. Huh. Not what I had been hoping for. But hey, I'm anything but prejudiced, and he was pretty eager, having stood up and opened his door so I could see the whole package, so what the heck. He was also wearing a mechanic's uniform, nametag and all, and the notion that I might be scoring some straight bone here was enticing.
I opened my door and just leaned back on the toilet with my legs spread and stroking. He sauntered right on over and pointed a very fat, sorta-longish uncut dick at my mouth. Being the agreeable type, I opened up and slurped right down on it. It didn't take long, maybe 3 minutes. He just stood there, not making a move or a sound while I went to work. I did a good job, choking as far down as I could, sticking my tongue out at the same time to hit his balls, then long strokes with my hand. Then he sort of tensed up a bit and popped about 3 volleys into my mouth. They were big, and my mouth was full. Somehow the full mouth gave me the idea that I should spit it into my hand and use it as lube to get myself off as soon as he left. Once he pulled out, though, he didn't leave. No, he just stood there looking down at me. Now, I wasn't stroking, and my mouth was pretty obviously full of his seed, so I dunno what exactly he was expecting me to do.
I gave him my best exasperated-mouth-full-what-the-fuck-do-you-want look, hoping he would take his empty nuts and scamper off to the wife and kids. Nope. He stood there for a few more seconds, and then...
"Are you gay?"
Jesus. You hang around a place like this long enough and you're gonna run into everything. And while I'm generally happy to help, I was in no mood to take this guy's anthropology survey. So I leaned forward, drooled his load into the toilet, and then said, "Dude. I gotta go." At the same time, I started pushing my stall door closed. He got the hint and split.
By now I was more pissed than horny, and I just wanted to nut so I could get the fuck out of there. I took a firm grip on my li'l soldier and started yanking, aware but ignoring the fact that as Mr. Curious was leaving someone else was coming in.
It must have been about six in the afternoon by this point, and I seriously doubted there would be any more "non cocksucking" traffic. So I just went about my business as I heard the guy approaching the stalls and heading down my way. I did give it a rest when he walked into the stall next to me, though, and I peered through the gloryhole to get a look. He was just standing there, but I could see a pair of khaki shorts, some nice tan slightly hairy legs, and a determined amount of crotch rubbing going on. After a minute, he left the stall and crossed over to 2L, where he dropped his shorts and had a seat.
Leaning back, I could get a good look across the way through the gloryhole. I saw a very large pair of Adidas shelltoes, the khaki shorts and boxers, some long-ass tan legs spread wide, and a fist wrapped around a skinny boner, stroking for all it was worth. I couldn't see his upper body or face, but you guys know me well enough to know that doesn't really matter a whole lot, right?
I opened my door and leaned over to the right so I could get a look at this guy. He was really young, maybe 18 or 19, and cute, wearing a plaid shirt that I'm sure his mom picked out for him. He looked up at me and smiled, so I just went ahead and stepped out of my shorts and sauntered over to his stall. He had a real purdy mouth for a Momma's Boy, and after a hard afternoon of being on my knees I was ready for a little attention down there. I walked into his stall, right up between his legs, and pointed my dick down at his mouth. He reached up and wrapped his fist around it and started stroking, which felt good, but I wanted a nice wet mouth to shoot my load into.
"Suck it," I whispered, but he just shook his head and kept stroking. Fuck. I moved back a couple steps and squatted down in front of him. Evidently, this was more like it. He stood up and moved close enough that I could wrap my lips around his cute li'l boner. After I sucked for a few minutes, he pulled it out and started stroking, moving his nuts in front of my mouth. OK, nuts are good, and these had a nice little funk coming off of them, so I went to work tonguing those guys while he flogged away above. As his movements got quicker and more urgent, I pulled away, looked up at him, and said, "Hey. Shoot in my mouth, OK?"
"Yeah. In my mouth."
I went back to his nuts, he kept stroking, and it wasn't another minute before he was ready to nut. He pointed his dick down at my mouth and asked if I was sure. In response, I wrapped my lips around his head and away he went, hammering his hips into my face like a jackhammer. Eventually he delivered a little bit of cum. Not much, but what the heck. He was having a good time, and that's what counts, right? In the meantime, I had knelt way down over his foot so that my nuts were rubbing up against his big Adidas and was stroking hard with my free hand. By the time he was finished up in my mouth, I had lost my second nut of the day on the floor between his feet.
As I stood up and headed back to my stall, the kid said, "Thanks, man." I swallowed his load down and assured him it was no problem.
OK, thus ended my first day at CSULB. Dang. What a great time. I headed out, grabbed some dinner, and went back to the hotel to crash. I was too tired to do much of anything else.
As the next day broke, I had to determine what I was going to do. I had one more day scheduled in the LA area, and on my list were UCLA, USC, Santa Monica College, and UC Irvine. I decided to break out the map over breakfast and see if I couldn't put together a plan that would hit two more campuses before the day was out. I should also mention that it was a Saturday, which of course completely changes the demographics and pace of a university tearoom.
I was already late, and walking out into the California sunshine, I was dismayed to find it pouring rain instead. After a bit of contemplation, I decided that Ben Franklin had been right with the "bird in the hand" thing, and rather than driving all over the west coast looking for tearooms I didn't know in buildings I didn't know on campuses I didn't know in cities I didn't know, with only a day left, I'd just stick with what I did know and head back to CSULB.
A smart move: CSULB day two
It was around 11:30 when I parked next to the business building and headed on in. Whereas yesterday the campus and courtyard had been full of people, today it was completely dead. Just a steady rain and not another soul in sight. There were maybe a half-dozen cars in the enormous parking lot. But the building was open, and I headed on up to the second floor to see what I could see. I actually did a few laps around the building before heading into the tearoom because I wanted my shoes to dry off and quit squeaking. This also gave me a chance to scope the place out a bit more and see if there were other tearooms around. I found a sign indicating that there was another one, but never did find it.
After a bit, me and my quiet shoes headed on into the tearoom. I noticed that the door had a lock. It never occurred to me that the place might be closed on weekends, and it wasn't. I walked in and headed straight for the stall area. Empty. Not a soul. I was the only person in this awesome tearoom, so I took the opportunity to explore a little bit, and get the lay of the land. I determined from graffiti and dried jizz that the last three stalls on either side seemed to be the busiest (as you would expect, I guess), with the first two just serving as overflow when things got crazy. I also discovered that the mirrors above the sinks were great for checking out what was going on in the rest of the restroom. Standing on the toilet in 5R, I could peer over the top of the stall and using the mirror, see the entire place including the handicapped stall. Cool.
I hung around for maybe 30 minutes and nobody had so much as come in to take a piss. There are few things more depressing to a horny cockhound than being in a five-star tearoom like this and there being no traffic. So, I played with my dick, moved from stall to stall trying them all out, and finally settled into 1R, with the gloryhole.
I had decided that I would wait another 20 minutes and then head over to the library if something didn't turn up when my heart leapt at the sound of the door squeaking open. "Please be cock. Please be cock. Please be cock," I was chanting under my breath as the guy walked slowly back to the stall area and parked himself right in 2R, on the other side of my gloryhole.
I could see a small pair of sneakers of some kind, jeans, and a knit shirt that told me the guy was probably from a Mexican family. He was short, with his crotch right at gloryhole level without the need to hunch down at all. As I peered through the hole, his hands went to his fly and slid the zipper down. OK, I was game. I slid off the toilet and onto my knees in front of the gloryhole, ready to get busy.
Presently, a tiny uncut dick emerged from the fly and was pressed up against the hole. Big, small, what's the difference? If the guy has the right look or attitude, I'm not going to make a fuss about how he's equipped, though this was one of the tiniest I've ever seen. I opened my mouth and dove, but only for a moment. There were a couple of other factors at work here and they were not in my favor. First, this dick had hair growing all the way up the shaft, almost to the head. Just a little odd for me. I peeled the foreskin back, thinking that would take care of the problem but it just exposed a worse one. This guy was not big on regular hygiene down there and frankly, despite what the TV commercials tell you, not everything goes better with California cheese. Teeny, hairy, dirty. Three strikes and...he's out. I got back up on the toilet and waited for him to withdraw but for the next few minutes, he stayed pressed up against the wall, wiggling the filthy little thing at me, though never saying a word.
The situation was progressing into the absurd when I heard the door open again and someone else approaching. To my surprise, the guy next to me didn't sit his ass down and wait to find out who the new person was and what they wanted. Nope, he just stayed where he was, humping the gloryhole, as the new guy walked in and headed into 1L, directly across from me.
I leaned over to peek through the door crack and could see this guy sitting there with his pants down, pretty big though limp dick being stroked, and his door held open by his knee. It took my neighbor all of about 3 seconds to decide to move across to this guy's stall and plug his little weewee right into the guy's mouth.
It turns out that I was right, the guy next to me was Mexican or South American, and very small, maybe 5' 4". He was also young and very cute. Very cute. The guy working on his dick was unremarkable, in his 40s and balding, with a plumber moustache and dressed like the assistant manager of a waterbed store or something. He was sporting a nice piece though, which was standing proud by this point. I just opened my door and sat there watching the show. This for some reason bothered Mr. Waterbed Store, who gave me a look like I was somehow invading his privacy and then moved the kid to the side so he could shut his door with them both inside. Whatever.
For the next ten minutes or so those two engaged in a variety of acrobatics, changing positions, moving around, standing, sitting, you name it. While I couldn't see what was happening it was pretty obvious they were having a hell of a time. Presently, things seemed to calm down so I opened my door a crack to see what I could. The older guy was on his knees in the stall, his feet jutting out from under the door, and the Mexican kid was nowhere to be seen. Hmm. I'm afraid curiosity got the best of me and I slipped as quietly as I could out of my stall and over to 2L to take a surreptitious peek through the gloryhole.
No luck, though, as someone's arm was braced firmly against it, blocking any view. From here I could hear a low, rhythmic groaning, though, and just knew something good was going on in there. I quietly raised up the toilet seat, stepped up on the rim, and slowly edged closer to the stall divider so I could get a look.
As I peered over the top, I looked directly into the eyes of the young guy, though his expression didn't change and he made no indication that he knew I was there. His pants were off, laying on the floor behind the toilet and he was laying across the toilet seat on his back. His head was crammed up against the wall and his legs where being held high and wide by the older guy. This was to facilitate the long-dick fucking the kid was getting, as the guy held one tiny Brooks-clad foot in each hand, driving his cock slowly in and out of the little brown ass. Fucking hot. The young guy didn't seem to be enjoying himself particularly, and his dick had gone soft. It was so small it almost looked like there was nothing there but a bush. But he wasn't exactly trying to get away, so I figured he must just not be a very demonstrative person.
I stayed there, watching, for the next ten minutes or so as the guy proceeded to fuck his partner good and hard, shot his load in the condom, and pulled out. I stepped down at this point and went back to my stall. I have no idea if the younger guy ever got off, but I kind of doubt it. Within a couple minutes they were gone and I was by myself again.
Note: when I commented that the demographics change on Saturdays, I was talking specifically about the fact that you tend to get very few students when classes aren't in session. In my case, at least, that's the big attraction. Instead of students, the weekend seems to bring out retirees and what I call barfags.
I've mentioned before that I'm an equal-opportunity cocksucker. I draw the line, though, at people who have the wrong attitude. Old guys skulking around, leering through cracks, groping under stall dividers, wheezing at a urinal for an hour: not my idea of a good time. I much prefer them, however, to the crew that comes mincing in from the "gay neighborhood" with their bad bleach jobs and premature crows' feet. They seem to want to hold court, sneering and rolling their eyes at anyone they deem not up to their standards and generally disrupting things for those of us who just came out for a little fun. Jesus fucking Christ, don't these people have enough bars and bathhouses for that kind of thing? Do they have to do it here too? These guys seldom hook up, and if they do, they make a big production out of going off somewhere private where none of the unworthy can see.
There were plenty of these types in evidence during the day this chapter takes place, but I've decided to leave them out.
So, the tearoom is empty, the Mexican kid is full (presumably), and I'm way horned up ready to play. Luckily within a few minutes there was a flurry of activity, with several people coming in and leaving, taking pisses, entering stalls, and so on. Once things had calmed down again, I leaned over and peered underneath the stall divider to take inventory and discovered that there were two stalls occupied, 2L and 3L.
3L had a large-ish pair of Nikes and jeans, and next door were some Tevas, a pair of shorts, and a nice pale set of hairy legs. Peering out through the glory hole, I could see that the guy in 2L, the doorless stall, was leaning forward, trying to hide the fact that he was stroking a nice average dick.
Worked for me, so I stood up and opened my door, stepping out into the corridor. I figured I could just trot over, squat down, and help out Mr. Modesty with a nice friendly blowjob. He was having none of it, however. As soon as he saw me, he gave me a look like I had just insulted his mother, snapped his legs together with a sissy little toe-point, and hunched forward, pulling his shorts up to his knees as he went. OK then. Not interested. This guy was nothing special, probably mid-twenties, just sort of plain-looking. Hardly in the league of needing to act like that. At any rate, I went back to my stall and lazily pulled on my dick waiting to see if something interesting would happen.
Presently I heard someone else approaching; this time they weren't the shy, tentative footsteps of someone who knew they were up to no good, but more an authoritative stomping. Experience has taught me to associate this kind of behavior with straight guys who are just there to take a shit and likely aren't even aware of the other stuff that goes on in these places.
Interestingly enough, this guy marched directly into 2R next to me, and across from Li'l Miss Attitude, dropped his pants to the floor, and took a seat. A brief description is definitely in order here. From what I could see through the glory hole, this guy was on the short side, wearing a filthy pair of jeans cut off at the knee. His legs and arms were covered in tattoos, wallet attached to a big heavy chain that clanged to the floor, sporting a decent-sized pair of Vans skater shoes. For those keeping score, that was a quick rundown of major turn-ons for me as well. Keep in mind that this was in 1997, back before they were doing tattoos and chains for the little suburban kids at the Old Navy.
Those of you who are squeamish may want to skip the next few paragraphs. Suffice to say that I got my horizons expanded that day.
Well, I had no idea what this guy looked like, but I sure did like his style. And the fact that he proceeded to take a big dump right there in front of everyone didn't hurt one bit. Don't get me wrong, I'm not into...you know, that...but the unselfconscious way he just did it with Li'l Miss Attitude sitting right there in front of him seemed to me very masculine, very "fuck you!". I liked it. Pretty soon, he wiped and flushed, but didn't make any move to get up. He just sat there with his legs partly open, letting me get a nice long look at his fat uncut dick with a big fucking ring through the head (again, this was back before piercings became the new "it accessory" down at the mall). I was certainly captivated. From what I could see, there was zero interaction between this guy an Li'l Miss Attitude, so I was curious what was on the agenda.
I decided to move to my knees and get a better look next door, and when I did he leaned down and looked me right in the eye through the gloryhole. I wouldn't call him handsome, but he definitely had a look. Shaved head, probably mid-twenties, sporting a little half-goatee and a real tough-guy attitude. Dead ringer for Fred Durst. He leaned back against the wall, spread his legs, and reached down to rub his fingers across his asshole. Seconds later, he raised his fingers to his nose and took a whiff, watching me all the while. OK, this guy was a freak. He put his hand back down to his ass again, rubbed his hole good, and this time raised his hand up to the gloryhole, offering me a whiff.
Hmm. By now you know I'm a big fan of the various smells that come from a hot guy's body. Still, this was something I'd never experienced before. But the guy was hot, and I figured the direction we were heading was liable to send Li'l Miss Attitude scampering back to Orange County in tears, so I decided to just go for it and see where we wound up.
I leaned forward and he put his fingers right up to my nose. Nice, rank smell, nothing gross. Just pheromones and sweat. The way I like it. He ran his fingers over my mouth so I opened up and spent the next few minutes just sucking on his fingers.
After a couple minutes had passed, he took his hand back, stood up, and turned around in the doorway of his stall. He then proceeded to bend over, hands on his knees, exposing his ass to the area in front of the stalls (and Li'l Miss Attitude). This was getting more and more interesting, and LMA was making no moves, so I opened my door, moved over behind him, and dropped to my knees.
The guy had a really nice ass, very round, a light coating of hair. He reached back and, taking a cheek in each hand, pulled them apart to expose himself fully. I wasted zero seconds pushing my face in between his cheeks and lapping at his funky asshole. As soon as my tongue breeched his ring, he let out a low moan and pushed himself back against my face. Ah. Fred Durst was a man after my own heart.
I stayed like this for several minutes, sucking his ass, jerking my own dick, running my hands all over his hard body and big shoes. At one point, I took a quick peek over my shoulder to see what LMA was up to, but he was still staring at the floor and holding on to his shorts for dear life. Presently, I reached up and stroked Fred's pucker which garnered an immediate "oh, yeah". I decided to go ahead and file that under "encouragement" and slid a finger in. Like a glass of warm water. This was clearly not Fred's first time at the party, so I added another and was rewarded by more encouragement and that fine ass bucked back hard against my hand, with his big beautiful uncut bone bouncing and dripping between his legs. OK, I could see where this was going. I'd never done anything exactly like this before, but like I always say, when a cute guy asks for your fist in his ass, you don't argue. Or something like that.
I hawked a big wad of spit on his butthole and leaned back on my haunches, stroking my dick with my left hand and gradually sliding more and more of my right into Fred's fine muscular ass. Note that this didn't take a whole lot of effort or anything. By the time I had all four fingers past the knuckle, I began to realize that his earlier dump hadn't exactly gotten rid of everything. Ick. Now what do I do? I figured I could continue and try to get him off in a hurry, or I could back off. Neither of those were really ideal, but this was hardly a situation I was familiar with and god knows there's no book of etiquette published on these sorts of things.
My contemplation was cut short by the arrival of another person to the tearoom. With no decision left to make, I yanked out my hand and headed for my stall. I'm pretty sure this is one case where you don't want details. As soon as I had wiped off my hand with toilet paper, I headed to a sink and washed my hands for the next five minutes or so. As I was doing so, another guy walked in and took a seat in 3R, on the other side of Fred from where I was.
As I dried my hands, I did a quick survey and tried to decide on a plan of action. We had LMA in 2L, an unknown with big Nikes in 3L, a new guy I hadn't noticed wearing Hush Puppies or something in 4L, Fred in 2R, and this new, non-descript guy in 3R. Counting me, that was six, and that definitely makes a party. I was definitely hot for Fred, and wanted to sex him up but good, though I preferred to avoid any more encounters with his breakfast if I could help it.
So, I walked back down to Fred's stall, dropped to my knees, and motioned him to stand. He did, and plugged his nice fat uncut boner into my mouth. As I was sucking up and down, he whispered, "I'm sorry about that. But it really didn't bother me. Did it bother you?" What an odd thing to say. Following my personal rule of telling boys whatever they want to hear, I just whispered, "no," and went back to sucking. I glanced over to my right and sure enough, LMA was still frozen in time, staring at the floor. I moved closer to Fred and humped his muscular, tattooed leg while he lazily slid his nice fat dick in and out of my mouth, and pretty soon the door to 3L cracked open and a cute face peeked out. I looked up and motioned for him to come on out, and he eventually opened his stall door and just stood there.
When he came into full view, Fred's dick fell out of my mouth with an audible plop and two things shot through my mind (and I'm sure the same two things through Fred's): First, this guy was young. Second, that was one enormous penis. Now, as you know, all characters in this story are age 18 or over, so I'm confident that this guy was at least 18. But if it weren't for that fact, taking into consideration his face, complete lack of body hair, and the few wisps of pubes he had, I would have been willing to bet he had to take the bus to get there. If you know what I mean. Delayed-onset puberty notwithstanding, this cute brown-haired kid had a moderately thick, very long, uncut cock that was standing straight up in the air above a very small, very hairless, set of balls.
Fred took one look at him, then looked down at me and whispered, "I want to suck that boy's cock." Well, gee, so did I. Seeing as how he was only about two feet away, I reached over and grabbed him by the schlong and pulled him over to us. He came willingly, and as I stuck out my tongue and ran it over his head, he just stared down at me. Fred was impatient though, and he was quickly down on his knees and had engulfed the kid's entire bone in his mouth. He sucked slowly up and down in even strokes, while the kid just looked on. Not having anything handy to put in my own mouth at the moment, I reached down and began stroking Fred's still-slimy ass. He looked over at me, grinned, then released this kid's cock and stood up.
As soon as he turned around with his back to the kid, I knew what was gonna happen and believe me, I was all in favor. Fred leaned forward, hands on his knees, and I reached up and guided the kid's big wet dick to Fred's butthole. He wasn't really taking an active role, more letting me guide him. So I got just the head settled inside then stood up to watch. As soon as I stood, Fred pulled me over and leaned down to suck my dick into his mouth. At the same time, he hunched his ass back and just swallowed the kid's tool whole.
The next 30 seconds went by so fast I wish I could save them and relive them again and again. Much to nobody's surprise, Fred was an A1 cocksucker with an incredible warm velvet mouth. As he laved my cock, the kid was buried all the way in his incredibly warm ass. And sure enough, the kid lost it immediately. He just whimpered, "Oh," and his hot smooth little body started spasming. Seeing that, I went ahead and shot off in Fred's mouth. As I was shooting, the kid (finally) started whamming Fred in the ass, I guess just getting the last of his nut out. As I pulled my spent dick from Fred's mouth, he wrapped his arm around my waist and yanked his own dick to a spectacular orgasm. Four hard, strong shots came out of his uncut fatty and sprayed the front of my left leg. Nice!
The kid was done and pulled his (very messy) dick out of Fred's ass. The look on his face was priceless. Fred stood up, gave me a little pat on the face and whispered "thanks." I headed back to my stall to wipe up, but decided it might be hot to keep this little souvenir on my leg so I just rubbed it in with my hand, then pulled up my shorts and split. By the time I left the stall, Fred was already gone. The kid was back in 3L wiping off furiously, and LMA was still ensconced on his lonely throne, staring at the floor.
I washed up and headed out into a now-sunny day for some lunch and to decide what to do with the rest of the day.
More of a good thing
I have to tell you, I was feeling pretty satisfied with everything that had happened so far during the day. Granted, in terms of numbers it hadn't been all that great, but the quality of the guys and the heat of the situations equaled a banner day.
So, was I going to head off and look for more fun up north in Westwood or Santa Monica? Hell no! About an hour after I had unloaded in Fred's mouth, I was entering the tearoom for the third time. Yes, my dick was sore, and yes, my nuts were empty. But I was on an adventure and this was no time to rest.
As I walked back into the stall area, I couldn't help but notice that the place had cleared out. There was one person in 2L and as I approached I was quite happy to see that it was Momma's Boy from last night with his big Adidas. He was just sitting there, elbows resting on his knees, looking bored. Since we had already been introduced I didn't see any reason to make smalltalk so I just dropped my shorts and squatted down in front of him. I figured he'd be nice enough to blast me with another load of homemade goo, just like last night.
That's where I was wrong, though. Whatever he was up for the night before, he wanted no part of it now. He just gave me a dirty look and deployed the signature CSULB Leg Snap to signal his disinterest. Whatever. It's not like I showed up at his house looking to cuddle or anything. Jeez.
I moseyed on over to 3R and took a seat. As soon as my door was shut, Momma's Boy was up and outta there. Kids. Before a few minutes had passed, someone else came in and took a seat in 2R, just next to me. From my position here in 3R, I didn't have the benefit of a gloryhole to see my new neighbor, but I was able to scope his nice, big, very sexy yellow Asics. Schwing! I do love Asics. I think it's safe to say I've also never seen a non-cute boy in a pair of them either.
I waited for a minute to let him get situated, then pulled up my shorts, yanked my dick through the fly, and opened my door to have a peek around the corner and see what was up. Dang. Another young one, probably 20, blond hair, blue eyes, cute, and very shy. He had his right hand wrapped around a respectable boner, just sort of squeezing it.
Well, you know that I have an uncontrollable reflex that kicks in anytime I see a cute boy fondling his boner. I dropped to my knees and opened my mouth, ready to chow right on down. Blondy was the third guy having no part of that today, and he promptly pulled up his shorts and walked right past me. God. It's enough to give a guy a complex.
I had a seat again, a bit disappointed, waiting to see what might transpire. Several people came and went, pissing and so on, but no action got started, Eventually things died down again and I could hear a small commotion coming from somewhere in the room. Hmm. I left my stall and crept to the end of the stall area to look around the corner. Nothing. So then I climbed up on the toilet in 5R and took a peek over the top in the mirror. Bingo! Blondy and Momma's Boy were back in the handicapped area swapping handjobs. My view wasn't enough to see their dicks, but I could tell what they were doing. I could also tell neither one of them was into it very much. Huh.
After a few minutes of this, the door squeaked and everyone quickly parted. Blondy headed to the sink and from the sound of it Momma's Boy left. Moments later the new person came over and took a seat in 3L and I exited 5R and walked on down to 1R to get a look at him. In your mind's eye, imagine the guy I'm describing when I say, "Portly old Mr. Perez from the muffler shop." Got it? Good. Probably late 40's, overweight, thinning hair and walrus moustache. Wearing blue double-knit pants and a work shirt. Not even close to my idea of hot. But like I always say, one guy's Mr. Whipple is another guy's pre-Demi Ashton Kutcher. Or something like that.
Before long, Blondy, who had gotten a look at Mr. Perez, sauntered over to 2R, dropped his drawers, and took a seat right next to me. Now things were getting interesting. I heard Mr. Perez open his door, a bit of commotion, and the next thing I knew he was standing in 2R directly between Blondy's feet! I couldn't see anything good through the gloryhole, so I climbed up on the toilet and had a look over the top. There stood Mr. Perez, hands on Blondy's head, power-fucking him in the mouth with a hugely fat uncut dick. Meanwhile Blondy was chokin' his own chicken fast and furious, legs spread wide as he could get them. It wasn't long before Mr. Perez went ahead and shot right in Blondy's mouth and like a good boy he swallowed it all right down. Then, with the dick free of his mouth, he reached up and pulled Mr. Perez down into a wet sloppy kiss while he finished jerking off, shooting town into the toilet.
Who knew? I'm gonna look like Mr. Perez one day, and it's nice to know there are hot young guys out there who might appreciate me.
Well, those two split pretty quickly and here I was again with a hard red cock and no place to put it. What could I do but wait? I leaned back on the toilet and just replayed the various hot scenes I had watched and participated in during the last 24 hours while slowly playing with my dick enough to keep it interested but not enough to go anywhere.
It wasn't long before I had company again. I recognized the shoes from yesterday as belonging to Spinner Boy. He recognized me too, and took a seat in 2L across from me. As soon as he sat down he whispered that he still couldn't believe how hot Boots Guy had been yesterday. We wound up talking for a little while, and I found out quite a bit about the tearoom. He was an unapologetic regular, coming four or five times a week, and told me that it was pretty much just as hot and busy every day. I mentioned how hot it was watching him get fucked by Slater, and he just laughed and said, "Yeah, that guy fucks me in here all the time. I see him on campus and he won't even acknowledge me but he can't wait to get in my ass." I asked how often he got fucked in there, and he said there were two or three regulars he could count on to nail him pretty much every day. Dang.
We talked a little more and it turns out he was familiar with Fred, who had done some pretty freaky things in there. He also asked if I still wanted to fuck him. Well duh. The only thing was he hadn't been fucked yet today so he wanted me to eat him out a bit first. No problem there, pal!
I turned him around in his stall, bent him over, and went to work eating that smooth little booty. It wasn't long before he was wet and relaxed, so I laid him on his back on the floor in front of the stalls, raised his legs up, and drove my dick right into him. It slid in easily, not very tight but nice and warm. We fucked for probably ten minutes, with him enthusiastic the whole time. Jerking off, saying what felt good, that kind of thing. As I felt myself getting close, I asked if I could get him off too, but he said he wanted to wait. "Go ahead and do it in my ass if you want, though," he said. I did. Leaning forward with his legs over my shoulders, I gave him another half-dozen really long strokes, hitting his prostate directly with each one. I nutted right in his guts, humping like crazy. This kid was a great ride.
I pulled out, got cleaned up, and said goodbye to my buddy. I ran into him there another time, a couple years later. But for now, my road trip was coming to an end. I had two days to get to Seattle and quite a ways to go.
To be continued...
I hope you enjoyed episode 4. By all means, if there's anything I can do to make your masturbation experience better; don't hesitate to let me know. email@example.com
Please also remember that these things don't write themselves. They take a lot of work, and all I ask in return is your undying praise, adoration, dirty anecdotes, and tips on other good campuses. I still have tales to tell from University of Washington, Western Washington University, University of Kansas, Boston College, Boston University, Northeastern University, and UCLA. If you're interested in hearing them, you know what to do.
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.