TRUE CONFESSIONS OF A MENS ROOM PERVERT 7 - Boston
All right kids, gather round because it's time for another episode of TRUE CONFESSIONS OF A MENS ROOM PERVERT. I know, I know...it's about fucking time. Well, what can I say? Here I am with some motivation so let's run with it. Besides, I'm way overdue with some Boston tales for a group of my most loyal fans.
Before we get our cocks out and start pulling, can we just take a second to go donate something to the people who lost their homes and livelihoods in the southern USA? They say every cloud has a silver lining but I just can't figure what it is in this case, unless it's finally the wakeup Americans need to see what a miserable lying sack of shit failure their pigfucker president is and ride him and his whole cabal straight to hell on a rail where they will spend eternity being assraped by Satan's giant spiny cock.
OK, where were we? Oh, yeah. In Boston for a conference with a bunch of free time to kill. Now, what am I going to do with a bunch of free time in the most university-laden city in the USA?
Boston College -- O'Neill Library
BC was always someplace I wanted to visit, since it was the birthplace of my college fraternity. I found myself driving by the campus one afternoon and since I had a few spare hours decided to pop in and see if there was anything that needed sucking.
O'Neill Library is one of those hideous, 80's-esque concrete monstrosities that seem to have taken over campuses all over the country. The entrance is confusing and I remember it took me a good five minutes to figure out how to get inside and access to the restrooms. But access I got. There isn't much that can stand in my way when I'm on a mission. The johns are on each floor, one above the other, right next to the stairwell. I seem to remember that they alternate men-women on each floor. CFS indicated that the basement level was where the action was, to that's where I headed.
It was a pretty generic university setup -- double entry doors, two stalls across from two urinals and sinks, metal partitions. I plopped myself down in the first stall and set out to wait. It wasn't long before I heard the outside door squeak and so I got ready.
In came a generic boy, jeans, black sneakers, and not much more that I could see. He had himself a seat and immediately started tapping his foot. I'm not much for playing these silly games so I just dropped to my knees and reached under his stall to let him know that we could get down to business. He must have been a business major because he got right down on his knees and slid a perfectly nice, generic cock underneath. I responded by crouching down and giving Generic Boy a perfectly nice generic blowjob that lasted all of about two minutes before he silently, and without warning, erupted in my mouth with a perfectly nice three-squirt load of mostly tasteless goo. Gulp. Leg-pat. Thank you very much, and off he went.
Sadly, next was not to be. I waited another hour there, hit the other bathrooms in the building briefly, and went back for another ten minutes or so but never saw another soul. Since I had a dinner engagement I figured this was a good time to split. During that and subsequent visits, I went back two or three more times but have never connected with, or even seen, anyone else there for hanky-panky other than that one time.
Boston University -- A&S Building
The next day I was finished with seminars by lunchtime so figured I would try the other eponymous institution and was walking onto campus by 2PM. My destination for the day was going to be the A&S building, which was the subject of many, many glowing reviews on CFS. I went in, headed down to the basement, and found the toilet. As I approached the door I remember feeling a little light-headed with anticipation due to so many comments from others that this place was crawling with horny butch young guys who just needed someone to relieve the pressure in their studly little nuts.
The bathroom, like the building, was old and crumbling. Lots of rusty fixtures, a high unfinished ceiling, and tons of unused space contributed to the feeling that this was an illicit place. I took a seat in one of the numerous yellow-painted stalls, the last of which had a nice view through the door crack down the long line of urinals along the wall. Nice planning! Within a couple of minutes, a scruffy hippy/skater type appeared at one of the urinals about halfway down and pulled out his peter. I couldn't help but notice that he wasn't pissing, just standing there. After a few minutes, he looked over at the stalls to see if anyone was watching him and indeed I was, leaning over to one side, legs spread, yanking on my pud for all I was worth.
Scruffy boy was sporting some baggy jeans, a pair of ubiquitous skater shoes, and a big mop of hair under a sock hat. He gave me a cute little lopsided grin and crab-walked over to the stall next to me, then went in, and dropped to his knees. Like I always say, you don't have to ask me twice! I hit the floor in record time and reached under to get me a handful of skater dick.
Hmm. We had a problem, kinda. First of all, this guy still had his pants up. His fly was undone, and his dick was out, but he resisted all attempts to get those jeans over his hips, making access really tough (especially to the best part, his funky little skater butthole). Second was that his dick was, well, really weird. It was nice and thick, but about two inches up the shaft it took a hard right turn and ended abruptly with a flat, not bell-shaped head. My first thought was industrial accident, or maybe he was just born that way. Either way, I was having a tough time resolving my desire to please the cute scruffy guy and his lopsided smile with the fact that his dick really just gave me the creeps. I felt guilty for turning my nose up at it, and in the end decided I would try to give him a good nut without using my mouth. So I wrapped my fist around the thing and lucky for me he erupted immediately. Erupt is not an exaggeration, either. Scruffy Boy shot forth six or seven huge volleys of jizz. Not far, but very, very copious. I think he must have been saving up a really long time, poor guy. He covered my hand and wrist, the leg of his jeans, and left a good-sized puddle on the floor. There was so much in my hand that I couldn't simply lick it up -- I had to more slurp it, like I was getting a drink of water. Not that I minded. Funny-looking though his dick was, this boy's goo was some good eating!
He whispered his thanks and I went to work trying to eat up all of the sperm he left me. Fair trade, I'd say! As I was sitting there using his cum to slather up my cock, I noticed that he had left a great big puddle on the floor next door. Heh. Some guys are really meticulous about cleaning that stuff up, others just leave it. Me, it depends where I am. In a place like this that's both filthy and notorious, I'd have just left it also. In this case I figured it might make a nice conversation starter for whoever happened into that stall next.
I waited a good 10 or 15 minutes and while a couple guys came in to piss, and a couple others came in and peered through the door crack (I hate that!) and went about their business, I didn't see much action. Finally during a lull, the door opened and in walked a young guy who couldn't have been more than 18. If I were a betting man, I'd have guessed 15 or 16. He was tallish, and to be honest looked like a band dork. No-name jeans hiked up a little too high, oxford shirt, and some off-brand sneakers with white socks. He was also pretty cute, with brown hair and a nice round butt. He made his way up to the urinals but didn't pull out his dick, then looked over at my stall. As soon as he saw me there, he walked right over and pushed lightly on the door. Hmm. This isn't your typical tearoom behavior. Even the most aggressive guys (including myself) would sniff around a bit to make sure they're not about to be entrapped. Either this guy was completely inexperienced or in some serious need! Being the neighborly sort, I decided to invite him in and see if he would like some refreshments or to have his cute round boy-ass licked.
No sooner was the latch undone than he stepped right in and pulled his zipper down. After some fishing around in there he decided to just undo the pants completely and within seconds his jeans and underwear (white JC Penny high-rise briefs) were around his ankles and a really nice thick cock was pointed at my mouth. I knew what to do from here, oh yes I did!
I buried that dick in my gullet and went to work sucking, stroking his good-sized nuts, and playing with his hard round butt while he gently thrust his tool into and out of my mouth over and over. I looked up a couple of times but he was clearly trying to avoid any kind of eye contact. Presently someone else came in and he failed to respect standard bathroom pervert protocol by either skipping to another stall or at least crouching behind the toilet in mine. Nope, he just kept plugging my mouth while whoever it was walked by and parked themselves outside the stall, trying to peek at what was going on through the crack. I couldn't get a good look, so I opened the door a crack and saw a guy who though youngish, really didn't do anything for me. He had that "face like a roadmap" thing that seems to be all the rage with 20-something heauxmeaux these days so I just shut the door and went back to the nice clean-cut dick on the Band Dork.
Before long, we had Meth Boy and two or three others gathered around the stall door gawking at us through the crack and I was getting a wee bit uncomfortable. The Band Dork just kept up with the blowjob though, either not caring or unaware that he should care. I suspect this may have been his first time, and he just figured that's how it went in these places.
The Band Dork was really enjoying my finger in his crack and before long he bent down and retrieved a small bottle of lotion from his pocket, opened it, and shook out a pretty-good-sized blob onto the head of my hard cock while I was still seated on the toilet. Then he turned around between my legs and sat right down, lowering his fanny and lining it up with my twitching dick. He slid right down on it and it popped in with absolutely no resistance. Now, I don't want to go impugning this poor kid's reputation but this was like fucking a glass of warm water. It may well have been his first time at the party but he'd been doing plenty of practicing, no doubt.
He leaned forward and started sliding up and down, hands on his knees, not touching his own dick. I just kept my hands on his cute round ass and marveled at the sight of my shiny dick going in and out of his body. Even though it wasn't tight, it was still warm and wet and slippery and within a couple minutes, and in spite of the gaggle of gawkers waiting outside, I was ready to nut. I whispered that I was going to shoot to give him the chance to get up but before he moved, I heard a loud commotion from above and looked up to see two guys staring down at us from over the top of the stall divider. He looked up at the same time and yelped out, "FUCK! Will you go away?" The two heads retracted but the others stayed put outside the door. My randy Band Dork stood up, pulling my dick out of his ass, and started pulling up his pants. I whispered, "Do you want to go someplace else?" and he nodded nervously so I pulled up my pants as well and we opened the door and walked past the gathered crowd. Interesting that two or three of them were hot guys that I would not have hesitated to suck off but they were being such intrusive trolls I didn't have any interest.
My young companion and I made our way out of the bathroom and into the hallway, him still not having made any eye contact. Once outside I asked him where we should go. No answer. I asked him what his name was. After a couple seconds, he croaked out, "No." Then he bolted out a side door at full speed and went running up the sidewalk.
OK then. Now you know why I think this may have been his first time.
I did a 180 and went back into the bathroom, my still-hard-and-slippery cock thinking it might be an opportune time to reconsider my dislike for the other guys in there. Two had disappeared, but two were still there in adjacent stalls. I went into the next one and attempted to get something started by kneeling down, but the little troll just ignored me. Fucker. I sat back on the toilet and waited. Five, ten, then fifteen minutes passed without a sound or movement from either of these other two. Great. What's good for the goose and all that, so I stood up on the toilet and peered over the divider at the guy next to me. Nice looking, maybe late 20's, red hair (big turn on), nice big Adidas shelltoes. He was sitting back on the toilet with his legs spread and his eyes closed, resting his head on the back wall and slowly stroking a really impressive fat piece of meat.
This was working just fine for me, so I grabbed my handle and started pumping, sort of getting off on the fact that this guy was oblivious to my watching him. After a couple minutes I was ready to nut again and I let out a little grunt followed by the unmistakable splatter of semen on tile floor. He leaned forward and looked down at the floor to see my puddle of jizz there and then leaned further, looking underneath, trying to figure out where it came from. Finally he looked up and saw me still there leering down at him, breathing hard. He nearly swallowed his teeth. I mean to tell you, this boy was taken totally by surprise. He leaned forward, covering himself and started muttering under his breath. I just hiked up my pants and headed out.
I went back to the same building on a subsequent Boston trip, but it was closed to the public and required a student ID to even get inside. Bummer.
Stay tuned for the next episode, where we'll make a visit to Northeastern University and fuck another homeless guy. And as always, if I can do anything to improve your masturbation experience, don't hesitate to let me know! email@example.com