...--^^^--...

Stories I want to tell you

Submit

Ask Here

Ass Fucking

This is the story that was supposed to celebrate a landmark and we’ve passed already halfway to the next landmark of equal stature. 

There’s a story before this, that’s now abandoned, but parts of that story will show up as stories of their own, in their own time. When that story cycle is completed, maybe the whole story will reveal itself, maybe it’ll stay hidden. It decides for itself, I only get to write it. 

This toilet is a long narrow box, with three areas. Upon entering, the first area is the sinks, with mirrors, and hand dry blowers. Next is urinals, six in a row, no privacy walls. Then toilet stalls, four in a row.

When I entered, there were shoes in stalls one and three, and a guy at the sink. He slipped out behind me before the door even closed, leaving me with shoes, one and three. I could pick two, between the shoes; or four, at the end. I picked two, double my luck.

I pushed down my pants and sat, and as easy as it is to say that, there’s also the getting the jacket off, hanging the satchel safely, a lot of fussy little chores to keep things off the floor of a public toilet, but the plot only moves along with the becoming partially naked, and sitting, setting up the action. 

Shoes on the left, shoes in one, I’m in two, were black hipster loafers, black nylon socks, black polyester pants. Yuck.

Shoes on the right, shoes in three, I’m in two but you already know that, were canvas Airwalks, white cotton sports socks with a single thin red horizontal stripe at the cuff, beige denim jeans. Yum.

I scuffed my right foot, a movement that could have been a rearrangement for comfort, could have been a query. He moved his left foot, just the same amount. I raised my right to up, and then, down. Purposefully, no accident. He mimicked the move, exactly. I reached down and beckoned with my finger, “Come here”. 

Sometimes that beckoning is replied with a similar beckon, “No, you come here.” Sometimes that beckoning brings a naked pair of knees to the floor, under the stall wall, framing a presentation of genitals, that I begin addressing with my hand, with my mouth. But on this day, shoes in three stood, opened his door, exited his stall,and knocked on mine. This is rare and this is wonderful, for perhaps we were going to jack off in front of each other, just outside our stalls, listening intently for any approaching footsteps to drive us back behind our doors. Perhaps we were going to jack each other off, or trade blow jobs. Most ‘business’ is conducted in the stall, under the wall, and stepping out of the stall is rare, and very daring, but today was unlike any other, before, or since.

I opened my door, and stepped out. Of course, I thought about shoes in one, but if shoes in three felt safe enough to step out, I could only guess that he had history with shoes in one that gave him a sense of safety, and I was willingly stupid enough to trust that.

Shoes in three was a young man, more built than slim, but not overly so, blond, darker pubes, his features square, attractive, bright eyes, with thick lips, smiling, his dick large, cut, slightly upturned. He went to his knees and began working my junk, and I thought I was about to get a blow job, when he stood and turned, and “PRESENTED” and in that instant I realized he hadn’t been prepping me for a blow job. He had slipped a condom over my cock with a single motion, a motion that spoke of much practise, a motion of a master, and he was “PRESENTING” his ass for fucking. There is no other word to describe it. You ever watch nature documentaries, with animal porn, where the narrator describes the sexual rituals of the mating dances, tests of strength, displays of prowess, fierce fights to determine victor and vanquished, and at some point, the object of desire decides - yes, that’s the one that’ll get to fuck me, and there narrator says “Now the animal PRESENTS” - Where “PRESENTS” means: the contest is over, here’s your prize, now fuck me!

Before he was finished bending over, I realized there was a condom on my cock, and he was presenting his ass, saying, without any words, “FUCK ME!”.

I’m not into anal. Shit comes out of there. Touch my anus and I shriek and it’s a buzz kill. When I’m watching jerkoff videos, I hold my hand to hide the part where he plays with his hole. It’s not a boi-pussy, it isn’t for pounding, it’s not part of my sexual repertoire and if I have to turn in my faggot card for that, so be it. I did try it once, (story here nine paragraphs in), and did not like it at all.

But how often do you find yourself standing cock stiff, condomed, with an ass of a perfectly attractive guy “PRESENTING” to you. Like the song says “I may be dumb, but I’m not a dweeb” and I slid my dick into his ass. It slid in easily, for he was well lubed, and tho it takes us a little off topic, I have wondered, “When did he lube up?” Likely as he sat in the stall, waiting for me, or someone like me, to show up, but it could of been in his bedroom, before he set out on the adventure that brought him here. If so, there’s an image of him striding away from his house, on his way here, with his well lubed ass going “squitch squitch squitch” as he strode along.

There was a sound over my left shoulder, a sound somewhere between a moan, and the sound of the air coming out of the lungs of someone punched in the stomach. I turned to see the source of the sound, and it was shoes in one, standing on his toilet to look over the wall of his stall. 

There I was, my jeans pooled around my ankles, sliding my cock in and out of the ass of a hot guy, who was jerking himself off with small moans of pleasure timed with my thrusts, being watched by an audience. A moment of heaven my friends, and my cum began to boil over. My thrusts became less my motions, and more the demands of my body to meld into his, to deliver my load as deeply as I could reach, and as the first exquisite spasm eased, I slid back and thrust again to ride the next wave, and each that followed, till I was spent, and draped over his back, his hand now cum covered with his own pleasure. 

I squared up and, making a circle about the base of the condom, (those health class lessons with the banana and cucumbers weren’t lost on me) I pulled myself out of him - and I saw IT. A piece of shit. A small piece of shit, perhaps the size of a grain of rice, perhaps smaller, but all the same, a piece of shit on my cock, and all the reasons I’m not into anal slammed up against me. I gagged, and gagged again, and beyond the spent of freshly orgasmed, felt a light headedness bordering on fainting while the still sane portion of myself told me “It’s not on your cock, it’s on the condom on your cock.” I turned into my stall, barely aware that the blond was wiping his mess off the floor and off his hands, and using toilet paper to keep from touching it directly, gagging the whole while, I got the condom off my cock and wiped my cum off my dick. I heard the blond, and shoes in one leave before I got my pants back on.

I was finally all re-dressed, and headed for the door, and something caught my eye. There, on the wall of stall one, right in front of where shoes in one had been standing watching, was a shiny trail of ooze leading to the cum wad he had shot, still slowly moving as a drip, down the stall wall. A grin burst on my face. Liquid applause.