Nate’s name lit up my phone again this morning, and I let the glow sit there in my hand until the screen went dark, the messages waiting for me to open them. I could already picture my wife catching me at the wrong moment, asking why I was smiling to myself. She had been circling me since, pressing with gentle questions about why I’d gone quiet, why I ran so much, and why I seemed to need another drink before dinner. I kept telling her I was fine, and sometimes I almost convinced myself, right up until I thought about waking in Nate’s bed with his arm thrown across me like that was standard behavior for me.
That memory returns in the mornings when I pull her close and pretend I’m not thinking about the weight of his body against mine. I try to push it away, bury it somewhere deep, but it never stays gone for long. I still take the same path through the park, but I no longer slow down for the public bathroom.
Not since that morning. Sometimes I glance at the doorway as I pass, unsure if I want him to be there. A few days ago, I spotted the young, fit guy from the shower, the one who worships cock, slipping inside. My legs slowed and my chest tightened, but I kept moving until the building was behind me.
I ran away from that feeling ridiculously conflicted.
That was until Wednesday morning.
It was early, which for some reason has a lot of traffic and always someone around. It might have something to do with the graffiti in the middle stall, the one that tells the story of a hot encounter on a Wednesday morning, and how the jogger would be there that following Wednesday. Maybe others, like me, made a mental note to turn up on Wednesdays in case.
I walked in and saw a guy at the urinal. Right away I liked this guy, but I was still feeling a bit weird, so I entered carefully, in case I bumped into Nate who seemed to frequent this place often. The guy appeared to have been exercising as he wore joggers, a tight tank top, and a cap with sunglasses. This outfit was designed to disguise him and it partially worked, but I did like what I could see.
I’d have guessed him to be in his early twenties, really fit with a bit of messy, short blond hair sticking out from under his cap and a tight, stubbled jawline. He looked at me and kind of nodded in an odd way, but then turned to the corner of the urinal as though hiding something, a behavior I’d gotten to know.
Having learned that people don’t generally stand at urinals while watching guys walk in unless they want something more than to pee, I brazenly went to the urinal and took the opposite end and got my dick out. Obviously, I urinated, but when I finished, I shook my dick a few times and watched this guy from the corner of my eye.
I expected him to do something, but he didn’t, so I assumed he was nervous or perhaps I had read him wrong.
I’m not much more experienced, so I discreetly played with my cock in my corner of the urinal, angling myself so that he could, if he really looked, see the tip of my slowly hardening cock being jerked. He must have looked, because from the corner of my eye I saw him slowly angle himself towards me, but when I glanced over, I couldn’t see his cock or his hand moving.
I started to get a little nervous, which I think was probably from this guy’s nervous rookie energy. When I looked behind, I could see the stalls were empty, which surprised me.
I considered that I had read him wrong and thought about leaving.
But then I noticed he was staring at what little he could see of my cock.
Fuck it.
I turned so he could see I was relatively hard and still, figuring that if he did nothing, I would turn and leave, even with a boner pushing through my short jogging shorts. His eyes widened as he saw me openly stroking, and his tongue darted briefly across his lips. I guessed this was one of his first times, but not likely to be his very first.
When he turned, my own eyes widened. He had a great dick. It was cut, thick, and I guessed about nine and a half inches. Not Nate big, but well above average. I finally turned to face him fully and stroked openly while licking my lips seeing his cock. Occasionally I would glance at his face, check the rest of him out, and go back to watching him jerk off.
He stroked, watched me, licked his lips, continued stroking, and angled towards me a little more.
I stepped towards him. His eyes looked alarmed, and he shrank back. This guy was so timid I knew he was going to flee in a second, and I didn’t really know how to stop him from doing that. He acted like a cornered animal I needed to free. In order to free him, I needed to approach him, but this guy didn’t want to be approached.
Fine.
We stroked.
But then he licked his lips, stepped forward while eyeing the door. That nervous energy was strangely exciting.
We stroked while he watched the door, occasionally lusting at my cock with furtive eyes, licking his lips, and returning to door duty.
The temptation to lean over and suck his dick was getting stronger. We both looked towards the door, to each other, then back at each other’s cocks, then back to the door again and repeated it.
I really wanted to suck him off, but there was something about him that made me pause. Maybe it was the way his chest was rising too fast, or the way his knuckles whitened around his shaft like he wasn’t sure whether to hold himself back or risk it. He wasn’t just nervous, he was terrified. And I don’t think it was me he was afraid of, rather himself. I had seen that look before. Hell, I had worn it myself. The part of him that wanted to run was fighting the part that wanted to let this happen, and that made me want to taste him even more.
We stood at the urinal in a Mexican stand-off while I wondered which side of him would win.
Finally, I gave the door one quick glance, then slowly bent towards his cock, expecting him to zip and run.
But he didn’t, so I leaned in further, right down until my breath reached the tip of his cock before my lips did. I could smell the sweat and soap, the faint sharpness of precum already leaking just below the slit. When I finally let my tongue touch his head, I traced along the underside and felt him shudder. This wasn’t just a tremble, but a full-body convulsion, as if he wasn’t used to being touched like this. His cock throbbed against my lips, but he didn’t back away.
That nervous energy was delicious.
I opened my mouth and sucked the tip of his cock, slowly, letting him feel my mouth close around it and slide towards the base as I wrapped him in heat.
He gasped then, loud enough that I almost pulled back, but I didn’t. I kept going. I wanted to savor the sounds he made as much as his cock. I let my hand wrap around his base and his balls, guiding him into me, tasting every inch of him.
His balls were smooth and hot as I gently massaged them in my hands while I sucked him at the urinal, knowing he was alternating between watching the door and me.
I’d forgotten how good it felt to have a big, juicy length in my mouth.
As I sucked this guy, I thought of Nate and his cock. But it made me wish it had been Nate’s, a thought I had to quickly push away.
He convulsed, moved out of my mouth, and I panicked, expecting to stand up to an interruption, but it wasn’t anything like that. He just blew his load on the urinal. I was disappointed because I was hoping he had given it to me, but he came quick and without warning and left it dribbling down the trough.
Nobody had come in, but when I went to stroke and finish off, the guy fled and left me standing there with a hard-on. I stood at the urinal by myself, looking at his cum running down the trough, but felt a bit weird and lost the urge, so I went into the stall and thought I would finish over the graffiti.
As I turned around to close the stall door, Nate walked in.
I froze. It took me a second to register it was him, standing there in his running kit like this was just another morning. His eyes flicked down to my dick, still out, and then back to my face, and in that moment I didn’t know whether he was about to deck me or suck me. My heart was pounding from the way he looked at me. He didn’t speak because that look said enough. I felt like a kid who had been caught stealing.
He took a step closer and I instinctively backed up, knocking against the stall door as it swung wider behind me. His expression wasn’t angry, just unreadable. I could hear myself breathing, louder than I was used to, as if the silence between us had its own weight now. He glanced once more at my cock, then back at my face, and that’s when I knew this wasn’t going to be a conversation.
He walked to the urinal, saw the cum, stooped to get a closer look at it, then pulled out his dick and started stroking, watching me the whole time. He raised an eyebrow and flicked his tongue out to let me know he was turned on and wanted me to come to him.
Nate was an enigma I would one day work out.
With a big hand, he waved me over. That cock was enormous, especially when I compared it to the previous guy. I shuffled two steps but watched the door. If he could be that quiet coming in, then anyone else could.
“Hey,” was all he said, in that voice that warmed me and with that grin I couldn’t resist.
Impatient, with too much confidence, Nate shuffled over and in one move swooped down and brought his head down onto my shaft. His hot mouth descended on it like a vacuum, and I could have blown in a second.
The first touch of his mouth was orgasmic. I could feel the wet heat of him, the way his lips sucked me like he had done this a hundred times, but this wasn’t routine. His tongue flicked along the underside of my shaft, slow at first, savoring me like he was tasting something familiar but better this time. He took more of me, inch by inch, until the tightness of his throat met the head of my cock, and I felt him swallow around me. I could hear the wet sounds, feel the hot mouth as he worked me deeper, pulling back just enough to breathe, then sinking back down like he couldn’t get enough. His fingers curled around the base of my shaft, squeezing, controlling, guiding me where he wanted, and every time I thought I couldn’t take more, he sucked harder.
I could smell the sweat on his skin, the faint scent of whatever soap he had used that morning, mixing with the rawness of the moment. Every time his tongue swirled under the head, my knees threatened to give out. I bit my lip, fighting the release building too fast and too sharp. I wanted to tell him to slow down, to make it last, but the words wouldn’t come. I wasn’t in control anymore. My body had handed that over to Nate the moment he dropped to his knees.
He was in jogging gear too, which I thought was hot, as he took my dick into his mouth and sucked it like a pro. Up and down, with a warm mouth that squeezed my dick as he gently but perfectly sucked on it, playing with my balls while his tongue circled, and his mouth tightened.
So I gently pushed his head away and brought my head down onto his big eleven-inch dick and sucked it in the way I had recently learned seemed to work. Thankfully, Nate has a lot of foreskin, so pulling down on it and stroking him while I sucked was easy enough. I used as much saliva as I could to slobber over it and stroked it while I sucked it from head to tip. It’s a big dick and not easy to swallow, but I was able to get most of the way with my mouth, and Nate didn’t once try and force me to take more of it.
Nate didn’t seem to be too keen on blowing in someone’s mouth, so he either got bored or had enough, because he soon stopped me and pulled me into a kiss while we stood at the urinal. I was a bit shocked, given I’d left his house and not messaged him back after he had sent numerous messages to try and encourage me, but I liked kissing him, so I went along with it.
As his tongue slid against mine, I felt that sick twist in my gut. I shouldn’t have been enjoying it. I knew that. I could practically see my wife lying in bed back home, waiting for me to come back from my run, oblivious to where I really was. But none of that stopped me from pressing into him. I kissed Nate back, because in that moment I needed it. I needed the escape. I told myself it was just sex, but I knew it wasn’t. This wasn’t some random guy blowing me in a park bathroom. This was Nate. The one who held me when I didn’t know I wanted to be held. The one I ghosted because I knew the second I let him in, I wouldn’t want to let him go.
And yet, I didn’t stop. I let him press into me, our shafts locked together like we’d done it a hundred times before. Maybe this was who I really was. The thought of admitting that scared me more than the risk of getting caught.
When he pushed his dick next to mine, and it rubbed my belly and against my dick, I really liked it, especially as he was kissing me while doing it.
I guess we were too engrossed to hear the cops come in a few seconds later.
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