Title suggestions welcome!

Discussion in 'Fictitious Stories' started by Woody110, Jun 13, 2010.

  1. Woody110

    Woody110 Active Member

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    Hi everyone. I thought I'd have a go at writing some hot fiction and testing it out on you all. It's a slow burner and this is merely part one, so please give a go and, if it makes anyone happy, I'll write more. Oh yeah - I didn't want to pigeon hole this tale with a title just yet but if anyone has any good suggestions...


    My car was in the garage for a few days last week. I was running late by the time I walked to the gym on Thursday evening, and the place had pretty much emptied out by the time the clock hands swept towards 10pm - closing time. I decided to skip my shower rather than cut my workout short. The evening cleaners were moving through the building by the time I was done, carrying mops, buckets and the rest of their equipment. They patiently moved aside as I apologetically snagged my belongings from the locker room and hotfooted it towards the doors. I shrugged my zip-up hoodie on over my vest, threw on my backpack and struck out for home.

    The late August night was already a deep dark blue. A light breeze played over the skin of my legs and across my chest, making my sweaty shorts and vest thrillingly cool. My nipples hardened immediately and I felt my balls slowly tighten inside my briefs. The muted sounds of the town at night were a calming antidote to the frenetic techno tunes of the gym.

    My route took me alongside one of the town's larger parks. It wound up uphill away from the town centre and into more residential areas. On the spur of the moment, I turned off the road and ducked through the park's main gate. Home was at least a 20 minute walk from here, but I guessed that cutting through these well-kept gardens and avenues wouldn't add more than a few extra minutes.

    The place was deserted as far as I could tell. I seemed to be the only person passing under the canopies of the large trees that filled the park; the only soul moving in and out of the pools of light cast by the infrequent street lamps. I didn't mind this at all. I don't spook easily and I don't tend to attract trouble but, even if I did, I know how to look after myself. So I was at ease as I strolled through the night.

    The path I chose arced towards the edge of the park before curving uphill towards the far exit. I liked this route. Here, the park's boundary was a wooded bank sloping down to the bypass, and beyond that was a clear panorama of the seafront and harbour. As the path drew closer to the bank, the trees around me thinned and the view opened up before me. I paused to watch the lights of distant boats bobbing on the water and enjoy the cool, clean sea breeze. Vehicles sped past on the road below, the passengers oblivious to me in my green world up above.

    After a minute or two I turned from the view and resumed the trek home. The path ahead curved gently away from the edge of the park, leading up into tree-covered slopes. Soon I was in amongst the greenery once more and the night seemed to darken around me. However, I soon noticed patches of light amongst the leaves up ahead and a thrill buzzed through me as I remembered what they were. First, on the left side of the path, the Ladies, and then further on, to the right, the Gents.

    I had visited this park many times as a youngster and used these toilets once or twice. During my teens, I had heard rumours about the things that went on here sometimes - all unsubstantiated but still secretly thrilling. It had never crossed my mind to explore the idea of finding out, but now the concept took hold of my imagination. A rapid slideshow flashed through my mind, a collage of images and yearnings from many innocent toilet trips in my past: guys meeting eyes, split-second glimpses of dicks, the sound of a zipper opening...

    My heart was suddenly running at double time. The path ahead curved right and continued to gently climb, and I followed it. The night around me subtly brightened as I passed by the Ladies but it was the cold glow of mindless convenience - the little building was silent and no doubt empty of the warmth of human life. All this only barely registered with me as my attention was firmly fixed on the Gents up ahead. Soon I was back in the dark as the Ladies fell behind and disappeared around the curve of the path. I listened closely to the night. Nothing but the surrounding sound of wind in the trees and, further off, the low hum of traffic.

    The lights through the leaves up ahead slowly became clearer and resolved into a row of frosted windows, set high up off the ground. As I drew nearer, the bulk of the unremarkable squat brick building came into view. It was set back from the main drag, nestled in the greenery like a forgotten relic, and was accessible by way of a narrow pathway leading back through deep planting beds. The open door, out of sight behind a privacy wall, let a cool wash of light out into the night. This illuminated nothing more than bushes and trees, and I realised there was nothing but undergrowth behind the toilets all the way to the bypass. I could see now how this place had earned a reputation as a place to cruise - it was discreet, as public places went.

    As I drew nearer to the Gents, my body was virtually thrumming with an unexpected excitement. The place had taken on new meaning. It was no longer just a small brick building tucked away in a forgotten corner of my everyday life. It was now an outpost of another world entirely, a world filled solely with men where the usual ideas of decency and decorum were not required. Anything could happen in that secret place. My dick began to stir a little, peeling away from my sweaty balls and drawing luxuriously across the fabric of my briefs.

    The little footpath leading to the Gents was just up ahead now and I chanced a glance behind me. No one. A strange mix of relief and disappointment eddied through me. From here I could no longer see the lights of the Ladies, the bypass or the harbour. All of it was hidden from me in my tree-crowded curve of the path.

    The sound of a shoe scuffing against tarmac brought my attention front and centre in a flash. A few seconds later a figure appeared up ahead, slowly strolling alone in the dark night. Downhill, in my direction. My heartbeat ratcheted up another impossible gear. I couldn't see any details in the gloom until the burning tip of a cigarette glowed brightly in the dark. The sound of a deep inhalation reached me, and then the cigarette butt was flicked expertly into the undergrowth. I read into this simple action; it seemed like something someone would do when idle time comes to an end.

    And too soon I was alongside the entrance to the little path, still twenty metres or so from the new arrival. Decision time. Saunter into the Gents to see what might happen, or just head on home and allow this silly, unbearable adrenaline rush to burn itself out on the way? My higher mind was still tumbling over itself when another part of my consciousness took over my body. I stepped onto the path and headed towards the Gents. Jeez, I thought to myself, here we go!

    The harsh glow from the door and the high windows brightened as I drew closer, darkening the nighttime woods around me. I heard the sound of a drip falling in a concealed cistern, a lonely sound in that empty space. As I reached the privacy wall and turned to head inside, I took a look back out into the night. I could see nothing now, my night vision shot, and I didn't know if I really would have company. I realised then that I hadn't hoped to see anything, but to be seen. I smiled to myself, amused by my own adjustment to these new circumstances.

    I slipped inside. The heavy aroma of piss mixed with the sharp note of urinal blocks, just like in all the Gents ever. White tiled walls reflected the harsh glare of four overhead lights while rough grey tiles on the floor absorbed it. A long white trough-style urinal lined the wall to the left; three sinks and a hand drier occupied the right. Dead ahead, the side wall of the first stall stared back at me, the tiles cracked here and there. Beyond were two more stalls. I glanced quickly down the row and saw all three doors standing open. Despite my excitement I felt a sense of familiarity - I knew this place and I had always been welcome here, both as an innocent visitor in days gone by and also now as a fully paid up member of this men-only world.

    I realised then I also had a legitimate reason to be here. I desperately needed a piss. All this preoccupation had kept me from noticing that the water I'd downed at the gym had caught up with me. I stepped up to the urinal and positioned my feet widely just back from the gutter. I hooked my left thumb under the waistband of my shorts and briefs, drawing both out and down under my junk. My dick popped forward, semi-hard, and I grabbed it with my right hand, giving it a few pleasing squeezes to help it plump up some more. The designer of these Gents had placed the door and urinal in an ideal configuration - any guy walking in is given a perfect line of sight along a row of cocks pulled out to piss, if he cared to look. I guess I'm something of a show off as this idea pleased me, and right then I wanted to be looking my best. I flipped my fingers a few times and my dick slapped meatily up and down. It's not the biggest in the world but it's a shower and it laid proudly across my hand. Satisfied, I finally began to piss. The thick stream hit the porcelain and ran down into the gutter, quickly pooling and running towards the drain.

    Another scuff on the path outside caused my heart to jump again and my cock twitched in my hand. I had company after all. I subtly readjusted my stance so my manhood was fully on show to the new arrival. I quickly ran through possible scenarios in my head. Would he be young and hot like some of the guys from my gym? Or someone that I didn't find attractive at all? Maybe he wouldn't find me attractive, or might be genuinely looking to take a piss and leave. That didn't really matter I realised. The thrill of showing off my manhood, even if only briefly, would be a good buzz in itself. I smiled to myself and waited to see what my options were.

    The door was suddenly filled as the man from outside slowly sauntered into view. My smile faltered as my eyes ran over him. The scuffing I'd heard had been made by his heavy boots, worn with age and loosely laced under the bunched-up hems of his jeans. These jeans also looked like they'd seen better days - old oil stains marked them and they were threadbare in places. They hung loosely around his calves but clung much more tightly to his thick thighs. A black belt with a large buckle held his jeans firmly in place around his hips and pulled the denim snuggly around his crotch, which protruted from his groin in a solid mound as if he'd shoved a fist under his waistband. He demonstrated that this was not the case as he paused in the doorway, lent against the frame and crossed his arms across his chest. His shoulders pulled against his jacket and clearly expressed his solid mesomorphic frame. The neck flared as it disappeared into his t-shirt and rose thickly to his heavy, stubbly jaw. His dark, deep-set eyes regarded me from under a heavy brow and a thick thatch of charmingly boyish hair. A wide smile broke across his face and his brows dipped in an expression which was part curiosity, part amusement and wholly intense. He muttered something to himself in a European language I did not recognise, revealing himself as one of the truck drivers who passed through town and sometimes parked up in a layby on the bypass.

    Too late, I recognised he wasn't the first one to be giving things away. I had openly apraised him up and down, lingering on his crotch and beefy arms, and my dick had quickly stiffened to a steel rod in my hand as I'd done so. My piss, still arcing from my hard on, was hitting the urinal much higher up than necessary and sending splatters every which way. All this was plainly visible to my companion. I hadn't expected him to stop in the doorway, watching me inscrutably like this. My subtler senses recognised that he was blocking the only exit. Not just blocking it but filling it.

    With a slight widening of his predatory smile, he shrugged himself away from the door and sauntered forward, closing the distance between us.
     
    #1 Woody110, Jun 13, 2010
    Last edited: Jun 13, 2010
  2. canuck_pa

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    Don't stop now, just when it promises to get interesting.
     
  3. Woody110

    Woody110 Active Member

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    I stood motionless as the guy walked towards me. His arms uncrossed and dropped to his sides, relaxed. Big hands swung in time with his slow strides as he approached. I held my breath and waited to see how close he would come. Four paces away, then three, then two.

    And then he was beside me. He did not turn to face the urinal at the last moment as I thought he might. Instead he unashamedly faced in my direction. His frame seemed as wide as the cubicle wall to my right, creating a little enclosure around me and making my public display a private show for one. His clothes smelled vaguely of smoke and cool night air. His head cocked slightly as he ran his eyes from my face, down my body to my cock and back again.

    For a thrilling heartbeat neither of us moved. The scene was silent except for the sound of my own piss, now beginning to taper off but still racing from the head of my dick. My earlier confidence was missing in action, leaving me without a clue as to how I should proceed. The protocol here was a mystery to me, as my spectator was fast realising. Any opportunity I might have had to take the lead evaporated as we both silently acknowledged my hesitancy. With a palpable sense of the upper hand being traded, my new companion broke the stalemate.

    His right hand was suddenly moving across my arse and then his fingers slipped between the backs of my thighs. Strong fingertips pushed up against my shorts and briefs, pressing both into my crack. My breath caught as the material ground against my arsehole, sensation blooming through my nerve endings there. His left hand came forwards, pushing between my own hand and my cock before curling around my shaft and sealing into a rock hard fist. His palm was rough on my soft skin. Reaching out his arms like this caused his deep chest to deepen yet further, his tee shirt folding into a vertical crease between his bunched up pecs, and the sight of his solid masculinity cranked up the pleasures down below. He pressed his fingers more firmly against my hole and constricted my dick, throttling the stream of piss. A gentle rhythm of loosening and reapplying the pressure was established, making the last of my piss shoot from me in rapid jets. He smiled at this effect, clearly toying with me. The experience was beguiling. Never before had I surrendered this bodily function to the whims of someone else, and what had been a simple act before was now unfolding into an array of exciting possibilities.

    But those were not to be explored just then. The guy's hand was gone from my arse and his eyes were back on my face. His smile was gone, replaced by a more intense look. His body shifted and he began to move away from the urinal, one hand still wrapped firmly around my dick. I had no choice but to move with him, turning on the spot as my manhood remained clamped within his fist, and then following him in an awkward sideways walk. The last of my piss oozed out of me, splattering the floor. He was unconcerned by all this as he drew me deeper into the Gents to the last toilet stall, where he stood to one side and finally relinquished my cock. His hand moved up to grip my shoulder, not roughly but decisively, and he pushed me forward into the cubicle.

    I stepped forward until the toilet bowl was directly in front of my shins, and I shrugged off my backpack. The tiled walls around me were dotted with crude graffiti and messages. Before I could focus on any single thing, I felt the big guy enter the stall behind me and his shoulder shoved me as he turned to push the door shut. I moved round to face him as he turned back to me, the two of us pressed deep into each other's personal space. Neither one of us spoke, and I wondered how much English this guy had.

    He reached up and clasped one hand to the back of my neck, then pulled me forward with a casual strength. His lips met mine in a hungry snarl and, before I realised it, his kiss was bearing down into mine, bending me back with its force. His bristly face rubbed against my skin as his tongue forced its way deep into my mouth. His free hand found my dick once more and curled tightly around it.

    My own hands came alive then. They slid up between us and pressed flat against his firm gut, which bowed out slightly to brush my own. I moved upwards until my fingers found the overhang of his chest. My hands were full of the mounds of his pectorals, his big nipples hard against my palms. I explored further, up under the collar of his jacket where the thick cords of his trapezius muscles ran into his huge shoulders. These I grabbed and squeezed tightly, as if challenging the brute strength they suggested. Sensing the insolence in this gesture, the guy pressed his body against me, flattening me to the wall. If the situation was unclear before, there was no room for misunderstanding now - he was fully in charge. My dick throbbed at this realisation.

    He broke away from the kiss but his face remained inches from mine, our eyes locked. His hands moved to my chest and slid my top off my shoulders. I let my arms fall to my sides and he shoved my top to the floor. He moved back in order to take in my upper body, revealed by my tight white vest. His brows gathered and his lips pouted as he drew an appreciative breath. The horned-up approval on his masculine face sent a fresh jolt of desire through me. He roughly grabbed my right pec, his thumb seeking my nipple and playing back and forth over it. His other hand slid under the vest at the point where it brushed my pubes. He drew it up over my stomach, revealing my lightly-haired abs. This glimpse clearly whet his appetite and he wanted more: both his hands were suddenly dragging the vest up over my body. I hurredly raised my arms and the vest was off, then dropped on the floor, already forgotten. He was instantly all over me, his mouth sucked tight to my nipple, the lower curve of a pec, my armpit. As I marvelled at the breadth of his hunkered frame, I felt fingers probe under my waistband. My shorts and briefs eased down over my arse and then dropped to my ankles.

    He slowly straightened and leaned back again, taking in my naked body. He lifted one hand to cup my balls, manipulating them roughly before taking hold of my stiff prick again. His hands were larger than mine and all but my swollen helmet was enveloped by his thick hairy fingers. He gave me one slow, luxurious stroke before both hands were on my shoulders, pushing me down. Just for the thrill of it, I resisted for a second, making him bring his strength into play. The effort made him rise slightly onto the balls of his feet, but then his weight came to bear on me and down I went.

    My knees hit the cold tile floor either side of his boots. I looked down at my hard cock, reddened from the rough attention he'd paid it but still engorged and straining for more. My nuts dangled freely below. A cool breeze played across my sack as I slid my hands around his ankles and anchored myself to his big calves. Then I raised my eyes to the prize in front of me.

    His crotch was directly before my face. A swell of pure desire surged through me at the sight of this perfect basket. The denim strained tautly out from his hips to stretch around his package, and the button fly gaped slightly with internal pressure as it ran down and under the bulge, disappearing snuggly between his legs. My hands crept up over his big thighs, to his hips and then slowly inwards towards the prize. The denim first hugged his contours, then lost contact with his body as it pulled out to contain his junk. The material gave slightly as my fingers ran over those air spaces either side of his cock, then tautened again as I came within a hair's breadth of his manhood. I glanced up at his face. His mouth was slightly open and drawing aching, anticipatory breaths; his brows knitted in concentration; his eyes fixed firmly on his own crotch, waiting to see how his endowment would be received.

    My hands slipped away, reaching behind him to grip his meaty arse and pull his groin into my face. I pressed myself against his fly, rubbing my lips and cheeks across the hefty bulge. The two firm orbs of his balls shifted around under the denim and in front of them, amazingly still not fully hard, was the spongy mass of his cock. I tilted my head, my mouth opening to engulf his length, but the stiffness of the fly baffled me. Instead I ran my tongue over it, savouring the subtle tastes and aromas of this area - the ultimate centre of the man.

    I was possessed with the sudden need to feast my eyes on his dick. My mind span with the possibilities of what he might be sporting. I settled back on my haunches and began unbuckling his belt. He was still looking down but his eyes were on me this time. A smile broke across his face; part affection, part filth. He rubbed one big hand on the side of my face and up through my hair, making my head bob with the force of it. He truly was a big bear of a man. I tried my best to ignore this contact and keep my eyes on the buckle.

    I quickly got it undone and the belt fell open, hanging stiffly from the loops. My left hand gripped his jeans while my right hand undid the top button. To my surprise, the waistband of a pair of underpants appeared. I'd have laid money on him going commando, but I was happy to be wrong. With a quick tug, the rest if the buttons popped open and the fly eased apart as his bulge pressed forward, unrestrained. I reached inside to help free him more fully, and the first touch of my fingers on his package was electric. My hand cupped the heavy contents and eased them forward until the whole pouch was spilling from his fly.

    He was wearing white Y fronts, slightly greyed with age. His heavy nuts stretched the cotton and pulled it slightly away from his groin, revealing curls of dark hair inside. The double panel in front conspired to keep secret the details of his cock, but I could still make out the flared rim of his helmet.

    With my hands now hooked in his open jeans, I leaned in once more and pressed my face against his bulge. This time, there was no tough denim to dull the sensations that met me. His cock was a large, rubbery thing that moved and unfurled beneath the cotton; his balls big and solid against my lips.

    Without warning his hands clasped the back of my head and forced my face into his crotch. My mouth and nose pressed deep in amongst his junk. As the cotton stretched, I took a deep draw of the heavy, masculine smell which is found nowhere but here. My mouth flooded with saliva and I wetted his pouch with it while he ground against me, both of us groaning in mindless pleasure. His thick manhood, now a heavy pressure against my left cheek, twitched as it continued to engorge.

    He released me long before I wanted him to, then gently eased me back a few inches. His big hands delved into his jeans, pushing them down to the midpoint of his big thighs, then he reached up and laced his fingers behind his head. His tee shirt rose slightly to reveal part of his hairy stomach. His packed Y fronts were now completely on show to me. A big grin appeared on his face and I realised just how much he was buzzing on my adoration of his huge basket. We were playing out the scenario of what he knew to be a central truth in life - I've got a massive cock and you fucking love it.

    My own dick was as hard as rock as I hooked a finger into the waistband directly below his navel and began to pull.
     
  4. long legs

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    Very good story,will be looking for the next chapter.
     
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