Dan had never visited, let lone cruised, the small men's room in the forested park. Remote, down a long dirt path darkened by pines, the building was made of granite boulders, separate from the women's facilities, looking dank and maybe dirty.

So, when he slipped inside, he was surprised to see a handsome, brown-haired businessman, dressed in khaki pants and a red-striped button-down shirt, washing his hands at the sink--and, at the urinals, an older athletic-coach type, with a husky build and graying crewcut, beside a younger Asian man in purple jogging shorts. Even more surprising, the stalls of the three toilets had no doors, and, sitting on the pot--bare, in public--were two good-looking boys in their twenties, a young Italian with a sharp, clean-shaven face and muscular thighs, and a lithe black guy with a lantern jaw and a shaved head--both with their pants lowered to their ankles.

It's bare-bottom time, Dan thought. "Do you...?" he asked The Businessman, indicating the toilet. "No, you go ahead, son," he replied. Blushing but horny, Dan took down his pants and briefs and sat his bare bottom on the warm toilet seat. The Businessman stood directly opposite his stall, as if this view were the price for giving up his place for the pot.  

Three bare bums, Dan thought: three brothers and three dads.

Dan knew he was a catch--six feet tall, tow-headed, all college-lacrosse muscle. The boys sat in silence as the dads waited patiently. The Coach and The Jogger filed back and forth in front of the stalls and looked down between the legs of the seated boys. The dads were listening for a fart, to see if any of the boys were going to do their grunts. The wind blew through the high open windows, stirring the stale air, and The Businessman lit a cigarette, which seemed to challenge the three boys' rectums, assert his Dad-authority.

At last, The Black Guy cut a fart. The Italian snickered.

"All talk, no action," The Businessman said.

The Coach edged toward The Italian's stall. "You think everything is funny, huh?" he sneered. "Stand up!" He yanked The Italian out of his stall, marched him across the room, and bent him, quivering, over one of the sinks. He rolled up his undershirt. With The Jogger and The Businessman grinning, he gave the boy a bare-bottom spanking so that the swats echoed off the tile and stone of the men's room, and, incredibly, the boy burst into tears, but his dad kept spanking his squirming, stinging bottom.

"No, please, no!"  

The Black Guy had come out of his stall to watch the Italian getting his spanking, so now Dan saw his bare bottom too--it was hard but slightly concave, cocoa-dusky and completely smooth. The Black Guy was rock-hard.  

"Your turn now," The Businessman told Dan, and he bent him over a sink on the adjoining wall, and, jamming his cigarette into his mouth, unbuckled and unzippered his pants and peeled down his briefs. From his shirt pocket, he uncapped a tube of KY and squeezed a ribbon of the lube onto his finger, massaging it onto his huge erect cock and rubbing it deep into Dan's rectum.

Some spanking! "I've never...," Dan all but pleaded.

"You will today." As the other men all watched, The Businessman thrust his cock into Dan's open bottom, while holding and guiding his captured hips. Dan's bum had never felt so bare--or so full and taken and dominated and yet masculine.

"Don't stick it all the way in." Dan's voice was hoarse.

The Businessman laughed. "It is all the way in."

Dan bent lower so his bottom would cooperate.

The thrusts intensified. Dan could smell The Businessman's lime aftershave and the cigarette he still clenched between his lips. Looking behind him, he saw that both The Italian and The Black Guy had been mounted by their respective dads, The Coach and The Jogger, and were taking it up the bum along with him. The Coach's wide white behind clenched as he plowed The Italian, who kept whimpering, and The Jogger's sweaty jockstrap had slithered below his hairy crack, down his taut calves toward the floor.

Three boys, three college bums, getting it rectally, Dan thought. His dong was hard against the cold porcelain sink. The thrusting continued, the men's breathing intensified, time sped up and stood still. Dan was thrilled but a bit nauseous: what if some cop walked in?!

"I'm so fuckin' close!" The Coach all but shouted. "Let's time it." Then the Coach groaned and gasped and Dan felt his dad shoot his huge load--liquidy, sticky, man-to-man--into his bare bottom, and The Black Guy thrashed as The Jogger pinned him against a urinal so that every last drop of his cum went pumping up the boy's rectum.  

Dan's anus tightened as he squirted cum in thick white lariats all over the sink and even onto the metal mirror above it. His crack felt wide, tingling, exhausted. "How's the little bummie? How's the little fanny?" The Businessman nibbled his ear, kissed his neck, and, after slowly extracting his cock, spanked his bare bottom six or seven hard, reddening times as The Italian and The Coach nodded with approval.

The Black Guy startled Dan when he said to The Businessman and The Jogger, "So, Rich, Alex, same time next week?"

The Italian, wiping the floor, said, "Drew, that's my call."  





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