Restroom Needed

His eyes scanned over to me and crinkled in amusement.

He nodded his head for me to come over and indicated an empty stool beside him. The bartender and a few other guys nearby checked me out as I approached.

"Welcome back, cocksucker." Somehow his voice carried over the loud music.

"Hey," I protested, "I'm not that."

"Sure thing," he said, in an amused tone. "You prefer another word for it?"

He glanced at his watch. "Just after midnight. Good boy to be on time. I knew you'd come back."

"You couldn't have," I retorted. "I didn't even know myself."

"Really. Then why're you here? You want lasagna, you go to an Italian place. You come here, you want dick."

Already my cock was getting hard in my pants. Frustrating to think how easily his crude words affected me.

"Okay," I admitted. "I'm curious. But I'm just testing myself. I'm only here for a drink and then I'm leaving."

"Ha," he said, "the only thing on the menu for you tonight is my fat cock, and all you'll be drinking is my sperm. Been a couple of days since I came, and I'm full up."

It was so dirty, and I felt the saliva release in my mouth. He'd said it looking straight at me. I held his gaze for a moment but looked away first.

"And you're not curious," he continued with a laugh. "You've been craving dick since you left here last week. Bet you've been watching gay blowjobs online all week."

How could he read me like that?

"You probably jacked off imagining your lips around my black cock. That's why you're here."

Why was it so erotic for him to know what was going on in me? It was like he could read my dark secrets as if they'd been written in a diary.

"How have you been imagining it--in the stall? Kneeling by the urinals? Lying on your back on the floor?"

Mostly I'd pushed those images out of my mind, but variations on them came back unbidden.

"Probably you feel some self-image conflict, yes? You have a girlfriend. You wear nice clothes. You want everyone to think you're the handsome straight guy. But the real you needs cock, and you need it in a place like this."

Fuck. The guy's like a shrink with direct access to my psyche.

"Were you thinking about the guy last time, the one who left here with sperm on his face? Or have you been obsessing about my dick and wondering just how big it gets when it's hard?"

Both, but I didn't want him to know

Unexpectedly he grabbed one of my hands and placed it on his crotch and held it there. Through the denim, my hand felt over-filled something substantial.

"Out there in the parking lot last week, when you were sitting in your car seat and your face was level with my crotch. If I'd fished my cock out and told you to suck it, would you have sucked me off right there?"

My face reddened, and I didn't say.

"Ha, your face says it all," he laughed. "We both know you would have."

He released my hand from his crotch and took a moment to scan the bar with his eyes. His voice carried over the noise as he checked out the action around us.

I stole a look at my now-empty hand. Had it really just been gripping his huge bulge a few seconds ago--in plain sight of everyone in the bar?

"You still in denial, cocksucker. If you get hard just from watching a guy sucking another, then you're a cocksucker."

His eyes came back to mine. Behind the mockery was a serious question: "So: you want to suck or not?"

I kept my face impassive. How could I respond to a direct question like that?

"You better decide soon," he said. "My balls are full. And that guy over there's been giving me looks for the last twenty minutes. If you don't want to get me off, he'll be happy to."

"I want it," I said suddenly.

"So ask me."

It was an effort to make the words come out. "I would like to suck your penis."

"Penis," he repeated, amused. "Such a clinical word. No, what you want is a dick or a cock. And it's not that you 'would like to' either. You need it, yes? So ask me properly, handsome man."

It was almost torture to have to say the words out loud. "I need to suck your cock!"

Two men further along the bar turned around, and I realized my words had come out louder than I intended.

"You need to be my cocksucker?"

"Yes."

"You want me to use your mouth tonight?"

"Yes," I confessed, and I felt my own stiffening cock emit a drop of precum into my pants.

"Say please."

"Yes, please let me." I was surprised at how genuinely I said it.

"All right." He chuckled and slapped his hand on the bar, as if sealing a deal. "You can be my cocksucker tonight."

My face still felt flush, but a calm acceptance settled over me at his words.

"But here's how I want it," he continued. "Go into the restroom. The one in the back. Take off your clothes from the waist down--your pants and underwear. But leave that nice silk shirt on. Then stand against the wall opposite the urinals and wait."

I registered his words, but it took a moment for their meaning to sink in.

"I don't care if other guys are in there," he continued. "Just ignore them and get ready for me."

* *

[Jason]

Fortunately, there were no other men in the restroom when I go there. I checked both stalls just to be sure. A hole had been cut in the wall between the stalls and someone had drawn an arrow pointing to it with the words "Insert dick here." Had that been there last week?

I turned away and looked at the wall he'd said to stand against, across from the urinal I'd used a week ago. Graffiti covered most of it, crude drawings of ridiculously large phalluses mixed in with a few names and phone numbers. In red someone had written Embrace your inner fag, and low in toward the corner a wannabe philosopher had written Life sucks, and so do you.

I kicked off my shoes and pulled my pants down, tossing them into a corner. A current of air felt cool on my bare legs, and I felt it moving over my exposed cock and buttocks. I moved against the wall and stood there, looking across the way toward the urinal. Despite the unromantic surroundings, my cock was hard as the door was pushed open and the big black man walked in. I didn't even know his name yet.

He took in my half-undressed state as he crossed the restroom floor and stopped a few feet in front of me. He looked down my body. "I see your cock likes being naked in here."

Hard to deny the evidence.

"Turn around," he said. "Let me see your ass."

As I rotated, I felt the weight of his inspection. So erotically strange to be looked at that way.

"Nice ass. Good legs, muscle tone. You a runner?"

"Yes," I said, feeling irrationally pleased at his praise. "A few times a week."

"Good," he said. "So you'll have some endurance. You'll need it."

His hand grabbed me by the shoulder and turned me around to face him, simultaneously pressing me back against the wall. His face changed from mocking amusement to seriousness as he checked out the contours of my face, looking over my forehead, nose, cheeks, and then settling on my mouth. My lips were partly open and, as he stared at them, somehow felt fuller.

"Yes," he said approvingly, "that face will do very well."

Both of his hands came to my shoulders and pushed them down, and my back slid along the restroom wall until I was crouched on my haunches before him, my face exactly level with his crotch.

"Stay there," he said, releasing the pressure on my shoulders.

His hands went to his belt buckle and zipper, opening them and then pushing his pants halfway down his strong thighs. His cock popped out, deep brown and substantial.

It was already semi-erect, and his balls hung heavily below. My eyes were fixated on the huge maleness before me, taking in the swelling head, the veins along its side, the crevice where it curved down to the balls that would feed it sperm.

I wanted to lean forward and ...

"Don't touch it," he said. "Just put your head back and open your mouth."

I let my head fall back against the tile wall and let my lips fall apart, staring.

The big head approached, and my mouth watered. I couldn't believe how much I wanted to taste it.

And then he thrust forward and pushed the head of his cock firmly past my open lips and into my mouth.

I had a cock in my mouth for the first time. The smoothness of the skin was almost surprising. My tongue explored how the firm softness of the head gave way to hardness of the shaft. His sex scent was both familiar and different. And the rough intimacy of the connection was powerful--male energy seemed to flow from his strong body, now so close to my eyes, via his thick cock directly into my mouth, and from there to spread throughout my own body.

I knew he was looking down at me, though I was concentrating only on his crotch.

For what seemed like minutes he slid his cock between my lips, maybe half the way in before pulling it out again.

The sensations felt so smooth and natural... in and out ... like breathing.

"You're a born cocksucker, my pretty man," he said. "A natural."

But then breathing became more difficult as he thrust further into my mouth, the head of his cock now pushing against my throat and filling the opening of that passage.

My head could not move, trapped between the hard wall behind and the hard cock pushing in from the front. But I did not want to move--only to feel that dark shaft fill my mouth and let the dark urges take over inside of me.

His own dark urges also seemed to take over, and his thrusts became faster and deeper and his breathing became more ragged.

"Fuck yessss," he moaned, "my cock ... your lips ... god, my balls ... need to burst ... need to fill that mouth ..."

I moaned too at his words, and my hand crept between my legs to pump my own cock furiously.

"Your face ... so goddamned handsome ... such a cocksucker ... need to feed you my ..."

And then his hips gave a great jerk, his words trailed off into a long groan, and his cock seemed to both swell further and become hotter. Jets of sperm coursed into my mouth, filling it with slippery liquid and indescribable taste.

It felt like my mission to let him experience his climax, to accept his come--and I realized what I had become. In a bar full of men, in a rear restroom I was half-naked and squatting on the floor, pressed against a wall with my mouth desperately wrapped around a big man's cock.

I was a real cocksucker now. A cocksucker--and that self-awareness sent me over the edge, my own cock pulsing in time with his as I came.

Eventually his shaft came to rest, still partway inside my mouth, and my eyes slowly raised to meet his. Amusement returned to his gaze.

"Good job, my pretty," he said, looking down. "My cock likes your mouth."

I couldn't speak, for obvious reasons, but I felt strangely gratified by his words.

"And about your girlfriend," he added. "Next time bring her along. She should definitely see this side of you."

* *