Date: Thu, 5 Nov 2020 10:21:44 +0000 (UTC)
From: garogora@aol.com
Subject: Discovery in Sin City, Part 3 (Gay/Adult Youth)

A couple weeks after my encounter with Terry, my eighth grade year came to
an end. Over that summer, the occasions when I could go to my park bathroom
alone became few and far between. The occasions when I could rarely
overlapped with the presence of a man needing his cock sucked. I think I
sucked two dicks that whole summer, neither particularly impressive.

The beginning of 9th grade wasn't much better. I was at high school, and
while the high school was situated in a place that kept the park on my
route home, I was walking home with my nosy, devious sister Ivy. Ivy was
always knee-deep in trouble, but she never seemed to actually face
punishment. One of the ways she accomplished this was by gathering dirt on
me and waiting until she was about to be punished to deflect my parents'
anger onto me. For such a basic and transparent attempt at manipulation, it
worked as a strategy. So, at all costs, I could not let Ivy find out that
her little brother was the most desired cocksucker in Clark County.

My resolve was tested a week into the new school year. We cut through the
park on our way home, and having seen a figure in grey sweats walk into the
bathroom, I told Ivy I needed to stop for a pee break.

I walked straight to the back stall, brazen. If it wasn't Rick, I was about
to be mildly embarrassed. It was Rick, though, so I dropped to my knees and
started desperately worshipping his cock. He looked pleased but a little
alarmed that I hadn't at least said something before I went to town on his
throbbing meat.

"My sister's waiting outside," I explained. "I only have a minute."

It took three, mostly with him masturbating furiously while I suckled as
much precum as I could. He shot a quick load, smaller than normal but no
less sweet. I swallowed, then whispered, "I can't do this often. If I ever
have a day when I know I'll be walking home alone, I'll come in here on the
way to school and draw a dick on the wall, right here." I pointed to an
empty space.

The bathroom's brick partitions seemed to be covered in dick drawings, a
phenomenon that had been significantly rarer before I started sucking cock
there. Rick was a fan of drawing a life-size illustration of his own in
black sharpie; it was a good likeness, too. One more dick, drawn quickly in
pencil, would only be visible to someone who was looking very closely.

Rick nodded. "Then I'll swing by a little early, and if I see your drawing,
I'll wait for you."

I quickly washed my face and hands, then gargled some water. As Terry had
said that night, I didn't want to be near Ivy with cumbreath.

I did manage to find occasional excuses not to walk home with Ivy, but I
needed something reliable if I wanted regular sessions at the bathroom. It
only took a few more weeks to find that.

One day, I needed to go to the public library after school, and got
permission before leaving home that morning. Ivy didn't want to go, and my
stepmom didn't make her accompany me. When we walked to school, I told Ivy
I needed to pee - I had even downed a whole water bottle in case she
objected to stopping - and ran into the park bathroom to draw a faint dick
in pencil lines on the tan-painted bricks. I walked Ivy as far as the park
before catching my bus, which is to say I went straight to my bathroom as
soon as she was out of sight.

Rick was there, at the urinal, waiting for me, cock hard. I walked over and
gave him a quick slurp, a slightly risky move, since it was visible from
the doorway. Rick nodded to his left, towards the stalls. I took that to
mean "go to the back stall," so I obeyed.

There was a man in the first stall. I was a little mortified - what if he
had seen me get a mouthful of Rick's cock? - but I tried not to show it. He
was younger than Rick, dark-haired where Rick was sandy blond, pale where
Rick's skin was tan, and had dark body hair, too. He was handsome, far
better-looking than Rick. This made me interested to see what he kept
between his legs, but he was hiding his cock from view, and sadly doing a
great job of it. I couldn't tell if he was big or small, cut or uncut, hard
or soft. The back stall was empty, though, so I sat and waited.

Within a few seconds, Rick stepped into my stall, cock out. I was surprised
- I hadn't heard the guy in the stall leave - but I started deepthroating
Rick right away. There was a loud gasp. I looked up, Rick's rather large
cock slipping out of my mouth in a grotesquely erotic display. The handsome
man was standing on his toilet, watching us over the barrier. I looked at
Rick, reminded of our first time, then I waved for the younger man to come
over.

He was averagely hung. I kept eye contact with him while I deepthroated his
cock, burying my nose in his wiry pubes. The look on his face reminded me
of when people hear a song that makes them so happy, it brings tears to
their eyes.

At first, I alternated between him and Rick. Every time I swallowed Rick's
longer, thicker cock with no more effort than swallowing the younger man's
dick, the younger man moaned with as much pleasure as if I were sucking his
own. After I realized that, I focused on sucking Rick but stopped making
eye contact with him entirely, preferring to lock eyes with the handsome
young man while I throated Rick's cock.

Like the first time I ever saw a man naked, the image of him gaping at me
while Rick's eight-inch meat slid easily in and out of my throat is printed
on the back of my eyelids. I can see the way the dim light from above made
his green eyes glint. I can see the way his tongue darted out to moisten
his lips. I remember the fine layer of dark stubble that coated his chin
and cheeks. The soft "oh" he released when I pulled all the way off Rick's
slobbery dick to show it to him. The shuddery "aaaaah" as he watched, in
desperation, as I slowly swallowed it all back in, not stopping until my
nose was firmly pressed against Rick's wiry, trimmed pubes.

Rick was very turned on by the dynamic, and shot his load within ten
minutes. I turned my attention to the other man. I either did so at exactly
the right time, or else my lips closing around his cockhead pushed him over
the edge, because he came immediately. His cum wasn't as sweet as Rick's,
but I loved the taste anyways.

I sucked any traces of cum off of his shaft, and the man fled. Rick and I
shared a smirk, as though there was something funny about the situation. I
muttered a goodbye, then headed out, walking around the park and back to
the bus stop I needed. The bus arrived a few minutes later.

I arrived at the public library about twenty minutes and one bus change
later, and immediately called home to let them know I had arrived. The
stated purpose of the call was for safety, but I knew my stepmother too
well not to realize that it was just another task she had set in the hopes
that I'd fail it and give her a reason to ground me. The full list of those
tasks had been: Walk Ivy as far as the park. (Check.) Call as soon as I get
to the library. (Check.) Get my stepmom a book on antique jewelry. (This
was the first thing I did upon the completion of the phone call.) Finish
all homework. (Check - although, this was kind of a cheat, since I had made
sure to wrap up all of my homework during the day, at school, and would
show that finished work off as proof of this task later.) Get the books I
needed for the essay I had to write in English. (This was the first thing I
did after getting the jewelry book.) Call when I'm ready to leave, so my
stepmom can check the bus schedule and make sure I'm exactly on time. (No
check.)

I did everything except the last of these tasks within my first fifteen
minutes at the library. I wasn't expected home until dinnertime, and it was
barely three in the afternoon. I spent some time wandering the bookshelves
and finding something fun to read. I wandered around a room on the lower
level, where they sold books that had been donated or were no longer fit
for circulation. One of the romance novels caught my eye. It wasn't
anything special, just a standard trashy romance paperback. What caught my
eye was that the man on the cover looked like Terry, if Terry spent two
years growing out his hair (but still waxing his chest). It was surely a
coincidence, but the sight of the paperback got me reminiscing about the
night I had knelt in front of the couch and sucked Terry's dick while my
small fingers massaged his prostate.

I got a boner right there. I used my backpack to hide it and left the room,
making my way toward the bathrooms I had seen when I used the payphone to
call home. I had, after all, sucked two dicks today (a first for me) and I
was horny as hell.

This bathroom was nothing like my park bathroom. The urinals and stalls
weren't visible from the door; rather, they were separated from the area
with the exit and sinks by a hallway and a wall decorated with lines of
glossy white tiles alternating with glossy black ones. The rest of the
bathroom had the same tiles throughout. The stalls had a more typical
barrier: half-inch thick partitions of hard, black plastic marbled with
little decorative blobs and swirls of white. There were two urinals with no
divider between them and two stalls: a small one in next to the urinals and
beyond it, one of the larger stalls clearly meant to offer enough space to
maneuver a wheelchair. The neither was occupied, so I took the small stall.

I wasn't there long enough to do more than thoroughly lubricate my dick by
pumping out droplets of precum (my favored method of lubrication, and one
which has only become more effective with time) before someone came in. I
stayed my hand to ensure I didn't make the telltale *shick* noises of
someone stroking a well-slicked penis. The man walked up to a
urinal. Silence.

I got a little curious at this point and wondered if I could use tiny gap
between the partition and the glossy white tiles that were at my eye level
in order to catch a reflected view of his dick. No luck, until I decided to
slouch a bit and look at the reflection in the black tiles instead. I
caught a brief glimpse of his dick - or perhaps a ball? - before suddenly I
could only see the reflection of his hand blocking my view. I flinched
back, wondering if he had seen me, perhaps the shadow of my head on the
tiles, before I heard him unleash a stream of piss. He hadn't seen me. I
could only see his hand because he was right-handed. I wanted to sigh with
disappointment.

The next man who came in, shortly after the first put his dick away without
me catching another glimpse, stood at the urinal farther away from the
stall. While he was pissing, I couldn't see his dick because of his hand,
but I got a great look at it when he shook his dick after.

Two men came in within a few seconds of each other. The first came to the
urinal nearest me and held his dick with his left hand while he pissed. It
was perfectly visible to me the whole time. To be clear: I've never been a
fan of the idea of scat or watersports. To each their own, and those of you
who are into it can have my share. But even so, I'll be damned if there
isn't something beautiful about the sight of a man getting relief. When the
man close to me finished shaking his manhood dry and stepped away, tucking
it into his boxers, I caught a glimpse of the man at the far urinal,
too. He was done pissing and started shaking his cock. It looked big. I
couldn't tell if he was cut, but I had only seen three or four uncut dicks
in my life at this point, so I wasn't exactly an expert. If I had to guess
now, I'd say he was uncut, but had so little foreskin that when his dick
was at half mast or above, he seemed to have no foreskin at all. He was at
half-mast now. I looked him up and down, licking my lips. And then we
locked eyes.

It was strange, because I was looking at a distorted reflection of him, and
he was looking at a sliver of a shadow, but I jerked away from the gap, and
the sudden lack of shadow there told him all he needed to know: I had been
watching him, and I stopped watching him when he realized I was watching
him. He waited until the other man finished washing his hands and the door
closed behind him, then he whispered, "You suck dick?"

I was silent. If I said yes, he might just kill me. If I said no, he would
probably not believe me. There was solid chance that even if I didn't get
killed, he would report me to the library security, who would call my
parents, who would beat me half to death and kick me out for being gay. I
knew they would, because I had heard them talking about how little regard
they held for faggots when they had seen an ad on TV for the charity
foundation that had been set up after Matthew Shepard had been killed, not
quite seven years ago. All I knew about the killing was that Shepard had
been gay. I wonder if my dad had known, even before I had known,
subconsciously, that I was gay, because the first time I remember hearing
about Matthew Shepard, my dad was warning me not to be a faggot, because
fags end up dead like that Shepard kid.

I was dangerously close to becoming the next Matthew Shepard, I was certain
of it.

The man took my silence, correctly, as fear. "Fuck, man," he whispered, a
note of desperation in his voice. "I *saw* you watching me. I know you were
looking, and I haven't had my cock sucked in years. You want it?"

I was shocked at this. Not as shocked as when a low, husky whisper answered
back to him, "Yeah." It came out of my mouth. It sounded so much deeper
than my real voice.

The man went into the big stall, closed the door behind him. He pulled his
pants down to his ankles and knelt. His hairy knees and thighs were
partially protruding into my stall, as was his dick. It was darker than the
white guys I typically got at my park bathroom, but I had sucked off a
couple latino guys and was willing to bet he was latino, too. His left hand
bore a golden ring on it. His cock was thick, veiny, with a little ridge of
skin on the back, just below the head. I thought for a split second: He's
married. Am I doing this? I answered: Yes. He's either the first married
guy I suck off, or the first who forgot to take his ring off first. Either
way, if we get caught, the fact that he's married is the least of our
problems.

I slipped off my toilet and tried to deepthroat his cock. The angle was
wrong for it, but he wasn't huge, so it fit. My lips opened and close
around the base of his cock as if trying to pull more of him in. Then he
started pulling out and thrusting, so I focused on covering my teeth and
let him have at it. About five minutes later, I swallowed my third load of
cum in one day. He got up, whispered, "Thanks, man," and started pulling
his pants up.

I whispered back in that low, growly voice, "No, thank *you*."

I wondered if he would have been so enthusiastic if he knew I was only
thirteen.

I resumed my seat on the toilet and went back to jerking off. By the time
the closed behind the man who had just face-fucked me, another man was
opening it and coming in. He headed for the urinal farthest from me and
started pissing. The door opened again. A second man came to the nearer
urinal and blocked my view of the first. I didn't hear the third man come
in, since he followed closely behind the second. I was leaning to check out
the dicks of the men at the urinal when he passed into the big stall,
making an obvious attempt to peek into my stall as he did so. I jerked away
from the partition and covered my hard cock. He went into the stall, closed
it behind him, and sat down after dropping trou.

I waited nervously, thinking I needed to be more cautious. As I was
considering leaving, I noticed the man's shoe tapping while he sat on the
toilet. He tapped a few times, then stopped. I watched as if it where the
most interesting thing in the world. Eventually, he tapped three times
again, then stopped. I tapped my closest foot three times. He immediately
tapped again, scooting his foot closer to the partition. I swallowed the
lump in my throat and did the same. The men at the urinal left. I didn't
watch. I waited for this man to make another move. He nudged my foot with
his, then gestured with a hand, come here. I moved my foot closer,
confused.

"Come over here," he whispered.

I got up, pulled my pants up, grabbed my backpack, and went over there. He
let me into the stall, then stared aghast when he realized I could be no
older than fourteen or fifteen. (Those were the guesses I got most
often. At thirteen, I was already shaving once a week, and this particular
day had been close to a shaving day.) His cock was still out, but rapidly
deflating. I forestalled that by getting on my knees and performing my
tried-and-true tactic to get that dick back up: deepthroating him and
making eye contact.

It worked, in that his dick started getting hard again. It failed, in that
I had to back off immediately, because he grew too much for me to keep the
whole length in my mouth. I took a good look at his cock once it was hard.

The thing is, my dick was pretty thick for my age, as Rick would proudly
tell me every time he saw it. It was perhaps above average length for a
kid, but at this point no more than five inches hard. The man in front of
me had a cock no thicker than my own, but almost twice the length. It
looked unnatural, stretched. I wanted to deepthroat it, no matter how much
of struggle that would be.

I moved next to the toilet so the man could block me from view with his
legs if anyone came in, then I tried again. I got his cock as slicked up as
I could with the slightly-mucous saliva from the back of my throat, then
tried repeatedly. He let out an audible gasp every time I did so. When I
looked into his eyes, the aghast expression was gone, replaced by awe,
admiration. I tried again and felt his dick slide past that barrier in my
throat that only Terry's cock had reached before. This man not only reached
it, he had two inches of dick left to slide into me. I pulled him closer
and accomplished my goal of taking his full length. He made eye contact as
he fucked my throat. He was about my dad's age. His hair was brown, like
mine, though starting to go grey. His eyes, about the same color as mine.

The door opened, and a voice said, "Dad, you in here?" The man busted in my
mouth, silently, caressing my head gently with one hand as he raised the
other to cover his mouth. He regained his composure as I swallowed and his
softening cock slid fully out of my mouth. There was a slight *pop* sound,
but that was mostly covered by the man saying, "Uh, yeah, be out in a sec,
Ryan."

(I want to pause here to make something clear. The boy's name wasn't Ryan,
but neither is mine. What's important is that the boy's name was the same
as mine.)

The door closed. I deepthroated the man's dick again, getting one last
taste before he put it away. He whispered, "Thanks," uncomfortably.

I smiled. "My name is Ryan, too," I whispered back, with an accompanying
wink. The man didn't know what to respond to that. He left. I locked the
stall door behind him.

It did not take me long to cum. I licked that load off my hand. My fifth of
the day. I flushed the empty toilet. More men came in as I was washing my
hands. I left the bathroom after drying them. Outside was the man I had
just sucked off with a boy about my age. They were waiting for someone to
come out of the women's room, I guessed.

The boy didn't look especially like me, but he had his father's brown hair,
in almost the same shade as mine. I nodded at the boy. He nodded back. It
was, as far as greetings go, very cool. When the other Ryan looked away, I
winked at his father. I wondered if Ryan inherited that dick.

I would never find out, but the library bathroom joined the park bathroom
in being one of my sanctuaries; almost a holy place. In years to come, I
would chuckle as I remembered thinking of it as holy, when it was, under a
certain definition, a place of worship.

The rest of my freshman year of high school passed by much more happily now
that I had another outlet for my sexual energy. I could regularly get away
from Ivy - and not get in trouble - by making trips to the library every
other week. It became a reliable way for me to see Rick, who would
eventually stretch my throat enough to reach the place that only Terry's
and Other Ryan's Dad's thinner cocks had reached. Even the handsome,
younger man made a few return trips, though I never got to suck him and
Rick together again. The library bathrooms gave me a reliable source of
dicks to look at, even on the days too slow to find any to suck.

I kept up the same pattern of fortnightly library trips over the next
summer and through the first half of my sophomore year. If I hadn't lost
count by the time I turned thirteen, I certainly would have lost it before
my 15th birthday. The fun dried up for a time, though, because that year,
my family briefly moved back east. The news wasn't all bad, though. It
quickly became known we'd return to Las Vegas at the end of the summer, and
Ivy elected to move in with our mother rather than stay with our dad and
stepmom.

I couldn't wait to return to Vegas after months away. The opportunities
were endless.