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All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc.  In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it.  Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you.

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I rode my bicycle to and from school every day along the same five mile route.  I've been doing that for almost two years, now, ever since I was in seventh grade.  My mom wasn't very enthusiastic about me not taking the school bus, but my dad helped convince her that I would be safe and that the exercise would be good for me.  Of course on snowy days, I was stuck on the bus for its very round-about and very slow route.

About three miles from my school and a couple miles from our country house is an area that around here we call a roadside park.  Think of it as a rest area along a two lane highway.  It was a slightly wooded area set among farm fields at the side of the road.  On weekends in summer sometimes some families from town would actually go there for a picnic, although that seems a little silly to me.  There's actually a much nicer park in town.

This little park has picnic tables, a couple of grills, an old fashioned water pump and a small building with men's and women's bathroom facilities.  That much I can see as I ride past it mornings and afternoons.  See, even though I've lived close to it my whole life, I had never actually been into the park itself.

Starting when I was in fifth grade some of the other boys at my school said that it was a place where "queers" hang out.  Those boys would say it, then they would giggle about it.  I would laugh, too, of course.  That's what you have to do when you're in school.  Even though I laughed, I found myself growing more and more curious about why "queers" would hang out there.

When I started riding past it on my bike in seventh grade I had a strong urge to pull in and ride through the parking lot at least, especially in the afternoons when there would frequently be two or three cars in the parking lot, usually with what looked to be one man in each of the parked cars.  Of course, I never did.  I always knew that there would be a chance that one of the older kids with a car would drive by and recognize me or my bike in the park or, even worse, see me pull into the driveway.  I'd have some heavy explaining to do then.

For two years I had an almost daily argument with myself and, as my grandfather would say, I'd decide that "caution is the better part of valor."

Last week, all that changed, though.  See, school hasn't started yet, but summer football practice has.  Every morning we practice at the school, but I know there aren't any football players who live in this direction.  So on the second day of practice, I convinced myself that there wasn't much chance of anybody from school driving past.  Besides, I could just say that I was thirsty from practice and wanted to stop at the park to use the water pump.

In fact, I actually was very thirsty.  The first week of practice is mostly dedicated to making sure everybody is back in good physical condition.  Mostly what we do is run sprints, lift weights, push around some heavy sleds without shoulder pads and sweat.  I would hate this week except that I know that next week will be even worse.  As a freshman, my main job once we start practicing in full pads will be to serve as a tackling dummy for the older guys, the guys who will actually get into the games.

I'm a receiver.  I'm tall and fairly muscular for my age.  On the junior high team I was one of the stars, but now in high school I see how much bigger the juniors and seniors really are.  Assuming I survive, I should be good enough to shine again in a couple years.  In the meantime, well let's just say that it's a good thing my mom doesn't come to watch me get the crap beat out of me at practice.

So on Tuesday of last week I finally gave in to my curiosity.  When my bike and I reached the park, I looked for traffic and turned left into that forbidden driveway.  I headed directly for the water pump.  After a little work, the water started gushing out of the faucet and splashing at my feet.

Over and over I brought my cupped hand up to my mouth.  The water was cold, but it tasted a little metallic for some reason.  Still I was thirsty, so I drank until it felt as if my stomach was too full.  I reached into the water stream a couple more times to splash my face and scalp.

Not one car came by while I was quenching my thirst.  I started to feel as if my previous fears had been stupid.  I grabbed my bike and walked it over to the bathroom building.

I dropped the bike behind the building and then entered through the door, which was on the side, away from the road and partially blocked from the parking spaces.  After being in the bright light of the day, the inside seemed almost black, although there were some small windows placed near the ceiling at the front and back of the building.

If the windows were supposed to allow fresh air into the small building, they weren't doing a very good job of it.  The place smelled as if it hadn't been cleaned in a long time.

I walked over to the urinals, not because I needed to use one but because I saw some writing above the two side by side receptacles.  I started to read the messages on the wall.  

The writing was in various sizes and at every possible angle.  Some had faded so that I couldn't make out what they said.  Others were just dates and times.

One message said, "I want a blow job."

"I luv to suk," said another.

"I like 2 69," said a third.

Of course, I could translate the meaning of all of them except one which was offering a "rim job."  That one I still haven't figured out.  Maybe it was another spelling error, because there were plenty of guys who seemed unable to spell properly.

I had just moved from the urinals to the closest stall to continue reading when I heard a car.  It sounded as if it had turned into the park.  My heart raced.

I stretched up to my full height to look out the window.  I was right.  A car was just pulling into a parking space closest to the water pump.  It looked vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place it.

I continued peaking through the window until the door opened.  Out stepped Rich Collins.  He's a junior at my school and, furthermore, he's on the same football team that I'm on now.  In fact, he's a receiver.  It's his position that I want in a couple years.

Now my heart was really racing, almost pounding in my chest.  If I walked out of the building he would definitely seem me and recognize me.  He'd probably tell other guys on the team where he saw me.

The only alternative I could think of was to just stay inside.  I moved into the stall again, locked the door behind me and dropped my pants and underwear.  I needed to look as if I were there to use the toilet for its intended purpose, just in case Rich or someone else came in.

As I pulled down my underwear, I realized for the first time that reading the stuff written on the walls had given me a hard on.  I tried to tuck it between my legs in case someone came in and looked through the cracks next to the door, but the thing just popped back up again.

I tried to quiet my breathing so that I could hear any sounds of another car or of Rich pumping the water pump handle.  I heard nothing until the squeak of the building's door alerted me that someone was coming into the bathroom.

Since I hadn't heard any other cars, I determined that the newcomer must be Rich, but except for the entrance I heard no other sounds.  No footsteps, nothing.  I stared at the door to my cubicle, fearing peering eyes through the crack.  When I didn't see any, I started rather casually looking around my stall.

That was the first that I noticed its two most prominent features.  To my right, in the wall that would also serve as the wall for the other stall as well was cut a jagged edged hole that was easily large enough to pass my fist through, although I knew that a fist wasn't its intended purpose.

On the other wall, the one that was adjacent to the urinals was another, much smaller hole.  It was probably about the size of a penny.

I chanced a glance through this smaller hole and realized that it was perfectly positioned to watch any adult at either urinal.  At that moment, I could hear faint footsteps inside the building.  I quickly diverted my eyes to the crack next to the door but I saw no movement.

Then to my left, I heard the sound of a stream of urine hitting the porcelain.  I considered my options only briefly before leaning back to the penny sized hole again.  I placed my left eye very close to the hole and closed my right eye.

I could see the bottom of a shirt that I recognized to be the same one that I had seen on Rich when he exited his car.  I could see the urine stream, too, but nothing else.  I guessed that the need to pee was the reason for Rich's untimely stop at this roadside park.  I instinctively leaned closer to the hole, hoping that I might see more.

The streaming urine came to a stop.  Then Rich pivoted ever so slightly and his cock came into my view.  I recognized it immediately, because, to be completely honest, I had glanced at it several times that day and the previous day in the shower after practice.  It was the cock that I had planned to use as a jack off fantasy that night when I went to bed.  It had come into my mind the previous night, too, as I had exploded and sprayed cum all over my chin, chest and stomach.

I had chosen that particular cock for my fantasy because it was...well it was beautiful.  Perfect in shape and form, perfectly proportioned and, most important, attached to the guy that I considered to be the best example of real masculinity in the entire high school.  I probably gave him such a high rating because in many ways he was very much a larger version of me.  Well a larger version with respect to legs, arms, shoulders, abs and so forth.  In the cock department, I suspect nobody in the high school is bigger than I am.

My cock grew to full maturity when I was thirteen.  Ever since then, it has been the topic of conversation of every guy who has ever had a chance to see it after gym class or sports practice.  I measured it and it was a thick eight and a half inches with a hard on.  Not bad for a thirteen year old.  Now, at fourteen, I've added about half an inch more.  I kind of hope it's done growing.  I don't want it to scare anybody.

Still standing at the urinal, with me watching through my peep hole, Rich gave his cock a couple shakes and just stood there.  He didn't milk it any more to get rid of more drops, and he didn't put it back into his pants.  He just stood there with his hands at his sides.  As he stood still, his penis started to grow, obviously hardening, although I didn't know why unless he was getting hard reading the wall as I had.

After a while of watching it grow to full hardness, which had gotten me even harder than I had been before, I had a sudden thought.  Could he know that I am watching him--that someone is watching him, that is?  I wondered if my eye might be visible from his side of the partition.

I quickly moved away from the hole.  I leaned as far forward as I could and still remain seated.  I became aware that from the forward most position, I would not be visible through the door's crack.  At least my face wouldn't be seen.

My realization came in the nick of time, because Rich immediately walked by my stall, lingering briefly at the door perhaps to try to peer through to see who had been watching his cock.

My heart beat even faster than before when I heard him enter the other stall and close the door.  I wasn't sure that my identity would be protected if he sat down, so I quickly sat up straight and moved as far back on my seat as I could.  It was as if I were trying to push myself into the plumbing between the toilet and the back wall.

Through the hole in the wall that separated us I could see Rich's shorts drop.  He apparently hadn't worn any underwear as I could clearly see the side of his butt and, once again, his stiff cock.  He sat.

I had no idea what to do.  Maybe I could get up and leave without him ever getting a good enough look at me to identify me.  I considered that.

On the other hand, I was no longer sure that I actually wanted to get away.  I decided to just sit still to see what he did.  He must have had the same thought, and we both sat in silence.

After a long while, probably at least five minutes, he stood, moved close to the hole where I could see his cock and balls (he must have been holding his shirt up with his other hand) and stroked in my direction, obviously performing for my entertainment.  My back was still pressed tightly against the cold water pipe that supplied the toilet, but I was able to enjoy the show.  My hand moved along my cock in rhythm with his stroking.

He then moved back to his seat.  I hated that he moved out of my sight.  I leaned forward hoping that I could watch more of his show through the hole without being seen myself.

I was successful!  He was continuing his jacking movements while seated.  But he must have seen the top of my head or something, because he stopped.

"Show me yours," Rich whispered from the other side of the dividing wall.  It was more of a command than a request.

I thought again about just making a break for it.  Then I thought about the principle of fairness.  I had been spying on him.  I owed him.

I stood and began again to jack my cock.

"Holy crap!" he said, a little louder than his earlier whisper.  "That thing is huge."

Spurred on by his enthusiasm, I increased my speed.  I was so turned on by this time that I probably would have come if he had let me continue for another thirty seconds, but he didn't.

Instead, he said, "Stick it through so I can touch it."

I followed his instructions less out of a sense of obedience to an older guy but more because I knew that the thought of Rich Collins touching my cock would be a good jack off fantasy for months...maybe forever.  I moved very close to the wall and pushed my cock completely through the hole with plenty of room to spare.

As soon as I did that, I felt his hands begin a systematic exploration of my cock.  First he felt the tip with fingers of both hands, as if he were reading Braille.  Then he cupped his hands together and slid them up and down my cock.

I think I may have literally stopped breathing for a while.  I would never have believed that something like this could be happening.  I decided I wanted to memorize this feeling, and it was then that I realized that this big jock had the softest, most magical hands I could ever imagine.  I mean, if you looked at this guy, you would expect his hands to be hard like his muscular body was hard.  But they felt like silk or whatever is the softest, smoothest cloth you could imagine.

I had no sooner thought about the softness of his hands than they were replaced with something warm and wet and, if you can believe it, even softer.  My cock had never been in a mouth before, but I instantly knew what he was doing.  I had been looking forward to being in a mouth since I was eleven or twelve, maybe even younger. 

His tongue circled my crown, then he moved farther down my shaft until I could feel my cock head at the back of his throat.  Then he did something that I couldn't really believe happened.  He shifted his position, so that he was able to take even more of me inside him.  I felt my cock pushing into his actual throat.  I'm not kidding.  I don't know what he did but it was amazing.

My instinctive response to this amazing sensation was to flex my cock.  As soon as I did that I realized that I shouldn't have.  You know how when you flex you also grow?  Apparently the increase in size pushed Rich beyond his limits.  I felt his throat constrict as he gagged.  He moved quickly to back away from my cock until it was completely out of his mouth.

I thought to myself that my fun was certainly over after that.

"I'm sorry," I said aloud.  Only later did I worry that he might have been able to recognize my voice, although that was unlikely as we've never really talked to each other.

He must have accepted my apology, because he was almost instantly back on my cock with his tongue swirling.  He began a bobbing motion on my cock, as if he were jacking me off with his lips.  As he pulled back each time, I felt him suck lightly.  On the way back down, he would swirl his tongue.  I grew more excited than at any time in my life.  On each trip back down he would take more and more of me into him so that eventually I was just as deep as I had been when I choked him.

I felt my cum churning within me, demanding release.  

I warned him, "You better stop or I'm going to cum.  Let me do you for a while."

He didn't really take his mouth off my cock to reply.  He simply opened a little wider and said, "Next time."

I wasn't too sure what that meant, but I assumed that there would somehow be a next time and that I wasn't supposed to suck him until then.  That came as a bit of a relief.  I've never done that before, so I don't know how I'll do whenever I get a chance to do it to somebody.

He continued his movements but with seemingly greater enthusiasm, now.  It was as if he wanted me to cum in his mouth.  As soon as I actually imagined shooting my stuff into his mouth it started to happen.

I shot my first into the front part of his mouth.  I made a muffled sound louder than I expected.  I guess that sound would be spelled something like, "hummpphhhh."

As my jizz landed on Rich's tongue, he replied with, "uuhhhhmmmm."

With each shot we each seemed to take turns repeating those same sounds.

As my climax wound to a close, I weirdly thought that Rich seemed like the best friend that I've ever had.  Of course, I know that's silly, because he didn't even know who was on the other side of the wall.  However, the pleasure he gave me was greater than any I had ever experienced.

When I was clearly finished, it was as if Rich was reluctant to let go of my cock. He held it gently in his mouth, moving his tongue around it.  I started to get too sensitive, so I slowly, reluctantly pulled back.

Once I was completely out, he sat.  I watched through the hole from a position that kept him from seeing my face.  I'm sure he knew I was watching though.

He grabbed his cock with what looked like a firm grip of his fist and started pumping very rapidly.  This is no exaggeration--he came in less than thirty seconds and it may have taken even less if I had timed it.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah," he said over and over as his cum exploded from his cock.  I couldn't see where it landed, but some of it had to hit his face, and I'm pretty sure that his shirt must have been covered.

I heard him grab a wad of toilet paper from the roll, wipe himself off and stand up.  I saw him pull his pants up, and he quickly exited his stall.

As he walked out the door, he called, "Thanks man.  Let's do it again."

I waited in my cubicle until I heard his car exit the roadside park. 

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