Broadway market in the late summer

So the summer was coming to an end. The local parks full of the litter and detritus of long afternoons in the sun, barbecues, a relaxed group get-together for the local guys and gals in my ever-trendier neighbourhood. At the peak of such an afternoon, hundreds of folks come out to play – cricket, outdoor table tennis, guitar, dancing, you name it, if it’s cool and hip enough they are at it. There’s always masses to drink, and the toilets in the park have a queue a mile long to use them, though most of the lads just find a nearby tree and let it flow. Yes, there’s nothing like cider or British beer or lager to get the bladder going. Then there are the joggers – always a few of them circling the park in their cycle shorts or their running gear, sweat running off their foreheads and into their beards… yes, beards – this is the centre of facial hair and the guys are proud of it.

I often cycle through the park: I will slow down to watch a handsome jogger approaching me, his breathing heavy and his cock slopping round in his shorts, I always meet his gaze and then make it obvious I’ve got my eye on his packet…. Often this gets a smile, sometimes a look of annoyance. Then I approach the toilets: I watch the guys in the queue – often really bursting, and unable to wait they shoot a furtive glance around and head off to the nearest tree or shrubbery – and I am there, nearby in a second. I pretend to need to fix something on my bike, kneeling down and watching the lad heave his cock out, and then relax in relief as his piss flows free, tempted always to get closer and feel that flow in my hands, on my face, in my mouth. Sometimes that gets noticed too….

But this Friday night I was meeting Will, my work mate. I’d been pretty horny all afternoon, and spent some of it on Squirt, but hadn’t had time to take advantage of my state, and work had been full-on, deadlines, e-mails, the lot. The little street with all the pubs and shops on it was full of folks. I wasn’t sure where I had agreed to meet Will, and looked around in vain. The place is so fucking hip!! Everyone was talking loudly, stridently, and though it was only 7pm it was obvious many were a bit drunk. But so many of the guys were so handsome – the area recently had filled with trendy younger people, all media types I imagined, and not badly off if the local house prices were anything to go by. The ‘look’ was pretty uniform: Long shorts, riding low around the ass, showing the tops of the briefs underneath, t-shirts or checked short sleeved shirts, a thick, groomed beard, a piercing or two – often a big ring in the ear lobe, and trainers or smarter leather shoes over short socks…. Often a nice bit of chest hair on view, and there were some seriously beautiful legs on show that evening!

‘Oi there!’ – it was Will. He was late. He smiled and came over to me and I got that big man hug he often gives me. He’s a tall guy, blue eyes, dark brown hair and, of late, stubble all over his chin. But it’s been a while since I saw him and now, yes, that stubble is a beautiful thick beard, trimmed under his chin at the neck, and as he hugged me that beard brushed my own stubbly chin. Luxuriant, full, sexy.

‘Wow Will – that’s a beard – you’re a real London man now!’

‘Yeah, couldn’t be bothered to shave… tried it out…’

He parked his fixed gear bike (yes, that trendy…) and we headed to our favourite pub on the top end of the street. It was always full, but tonight it was heaving. It was warm, and the clientele pushed up against us as we fought our way to the bar. Arms, legs, asses, crotches all in direct contact… horny. At the bar at last, we ordered eventually from the nice Ozzie girl who served us. Two pints of the cheap British cider we both love on a hot evening. It was cold, and the taste was sweet. We gulped.

Will had been hard at work. His hands covered in paint and glue, and some of it on his shorts. His hairy legs look great – cycling does you good after all, and his arms are long and veiny with nice long hands and fingers, and the tuft of curly chest hair visible at his neck was moist with sweat. He must be about 34 or so. We’ve been friends since our work brought us together a few months ago, and he wears his sexuality lightly. He likes to meet up with guys via Grindr. He is cool with the modern way of fixing a meet… He’s just a friendly handsome guy and good to hang out with. He’s also hilarious when he’s had a pint or two and gets a bit drunk. I know he will this evening…

The bar was getting busy so we tried to find a table – now I am usually unlucky in this but shortly afterwards a small round table became free, (the young couple leaving it looked as if they needed to ‘get a room’ and on top of each other as they unsteadily left. The lad said to me ‘It’s all yours boss’). We plopped down on the stools and toasted our good luck. Conversation was easy with Will - work, which we are both obsessed with and the state of the area and his plans to get a flat here….

He bought a second pint and we downed that one too. Soon I needed a piss. I headed to the toilets – two urinals and both taken by slightly unsteady looking lads. From the door I could see the streams of their man piss as they relieved themselves. I felt my cock stirring though it really needed to let my piss flow… One of the lads shook off the last drops then tucked his manhood back in his jeans and headed off. I took up the urinal next to his mate. It was not difficult to let go the piss stored inside me. I looked down, proudly, at my stream, then turned my eyes to the stream at the next urinal – the lad must have been about 25, and his piss was a solid noisy rod of gold spouting from a nice knob end; the rest of his cock invisible in his grasp. At last he finished, just as well as my own flow was slowing down because the sight of this display was turning me on. He shook his cock and I got a better look at the length – nice, thick, about 7 inches or so. He flicked the end of his cock with a finger to release the last drop, before curling his meat back into the shorts. Then he did something great – rather than washing his hands, he simply put his finger into his mouth and sucked it. Without even a glance at me he left, whistling a tune I am sure I’d heard at the local gym. I was turned on bad, but I managed to finish my piss and as a tribute to my young friend, I licked my fingers after I’d shaken off.

Back in the bar, I caught up with Will, texting away as ever, and our conversation started to head to what Grindr had in store for him. He said he was pretty much in need of some fun – and as it was Friday night he planned to have some. A third pint was on the table for each of us in no time….

He asked me what I was planning for later:

‘Work a bit then I might head out to the Club’

‘Which one?’

‘Oh, Backstreet…’

‘Sleazy fucker!’

‘Yeah, I know. Can’t help it…. And on Tuesday it’s the big night out’ I joked.

‘What’s that then?’

‘S.O.P.’ I answered.

Now I don’t know if Will knew about S.O.P. but it seemed a good time to tell him. A friendly, cruisy bar in King’s Cross, where the guys meet for watersports fun.

‘Wow… full-on’ he exclaimed.

‘Ever tried it?’ I looked straight in those blue eyes. He was a tiny bit bleary, the start of the effect of a few pints of cider. Will smiled:

‘What? S.O.P. or watersports?’

‘Well, either...’ I laughed.

‘Actually, never tried it…. Always thought it was not for me…’

‘And that’s just how I felt for ages – till a Japanese guy I met on Grindr came round and after giving me a really hard fuck, went to piss… I followed him to the bathroom and the rest is history’

‘What, you mean you just did it?’

‘Down on my knees in a flash! Yes. And his piss tasted great’

‘Jeez, I thought it was all about getting wet, not drinking’

‘You have so much to learn, Will’ I gently remarked.

He was a bit quiet for a moment. Maybe I had shocked him…. Then he smiled:

‘Well now it’s my turn to need a piss’ he said.

‘You must have masses…. You have drunk about three pints … I had to piss after two’

On the table was my empty pint glass. Will got up, but I put my hand on his shoulder and said

‘Why waste it, mate?’ I directed his gaze to the empty glass. He grinned and his eyes got even bigger.

‘You want my piss? Drink it?’ he whispered.

‘Yeah! And I’m horny for it…’

‘So what do we do…. I can’t take the glass into the loo – it’s so busy’

I took the glass and put it under the table.

‘Fucking hell!’ But Will got the idea. He was bursting. Looking around furtively, he took the glass in one hand and with the other unbuttoned his shorts. I couldn’t see under the table, but from the expression on his face – changing from apprehension to bliss and relief, I could tell he was letting it flow. Then the sound of his piss filling the pint glass got noisier, and he became self-conscious. He stopped and looked at me for encouragement. I smiled at him and then he let more go. The area we were seated in was full of cheerful relaxed people. None of them guessed what was going on under that table. Eventually, the flow stopped.

‘It’s full….’ Will said

‘So put it on the table!’

He lifted the warm, full glass and put it in front of me. If it had been a cold night steam would have been coming off it, but instead there was a full glass, a lovely amber colour, not unlike the cider we had been drinking.

‘I still need to piss’ he said

‘So use your glass’

Rolling his eyes, Will repeated the procedure under the table. This time his own glass came back nearly full. He seemed to have emptied his bladder at last.

‘Bloody hell… That’s so horny….’ He said.

‘Here goes!’ I took the glass and drank. I drank. I drank…. His piss tasted great. Real cider piss, clear, slightly sweet, manly…

Will was watching, amazement in his eyes, and I saw his hand almost unconsciously move to his crotch. Instead of doing his buttons back up, his hand went in to his briefs, pulling down the elastic, and I could tell by his movements that he was gently massaging his cock. I was getting really hard myself by now, my cock straining through my jeans.

As I got more aroused, the piss was gulped down faster. The second glass beckoned. But instead I said to Will:

‘Why don’t you try your own piss’

By now he was looking pretty crazed, and he took the glass and raised it to his face – sniffing the piss. Then all of a sudden he put it to his lips and tasted it. Immediately he stopped – he needed to get his courage up – and then he went for it. He nearly finished it but just before he did I grabbed the glass and drank the last drops.

‘Welcome to my world!’

‘Man I’m so horny’

‘Come with me’ I told him

We made our way outside – the air was still warm. I know an alleyway behind the pub, used by the landlord only, and he was evidently busy tonight. We headed down the dark space. Will’s hand was now back in his shorts. I was as horny as hell, and I went down on my knees in front of my bearded mate.

‘Suck me off…’ his speech was broken

His cock was bigger than I imagined, a beautiful thick shaft, and the knob completely exposed, though he was uncut. I put my mouth round it and he started moaning and bucking immediately.

My hands were now taking care of my own cock, which was oozing precum. I was so close…. But not as close as Will. Suddenly he started groaning, kind of loudly. I put one hand over his mouth. He started to lick my fingers, and then rammed his cock deeper than ever into my mouth. That did it… huge spurts of his sweet cum jetted onto my tongue. And at the same time, I shot a big arc of my own into the air, it landed on Wills shoes. I was almost choking, but I swallowed every drop.

We stood there panting.

A few minutes passed. Neither said anything. Then, out of nowhere Will said –

‘Every time I cum, I need to piss again… and tonight’s no exception…..’

Which is where Will had his first experience of a hungry piss addict kneeling under his tap as he let it flow into my greedy mouth. I bet there was another pint there. It washed his cum down my throat and tasted great.

We’ve not looked back since.