Restroom Needed

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[Jason:]

It started by accident. Honest.

Close to midnight I was driving home from an out of town trip. I’d had too much coffee on the road and really needed a toilet. At the edge of town I pulled off the highway and into a bar’s parking lot. The place looked rough and badly lit but I didn’t pay much attention. I really needed to piss. I went through the front door and quickly scanned the place, noticing that it was full of men, some seated along the long bar with a mirror behind it, some on the big dance floor, some in darker booths along the far wall. I sort-of registered that there were only men in the bar, but I was mostly relieved to spot the “Restroom” sign in the back and made a beeline for it.

I entered the restroom already unzipping my pants, passing a big black guy leaning against the wall by the sinks for some reason, and went directly to a urinal. I pulled out my penis and began to piss. The relief was so intense it was almost sweet.

As my pressure eased, I noticed strange sounds coming from the stall right beside me–something like liquid slurpings and low groaning, followed by murmurs of encouragement and a long moan.

Was someone having sex in there? Even as the question formed in my mind I knew what I was hearing,

I was almost finished at the urinal, but as I realized what I was hearing the sensation of my bladder easing was replaced by the sensation of my cock swelling.

I paused. I could tuck my penis away, turn to a sink and wash my hands, and leave.

But I felt a reluctance to move and stood there immobile, my head cocked slightly toward the stall beside me, my ears straining for more sounds.

Suddenly the big guy who had been leaning against the wall was at the urinal next to mine. I glanced over as he was taking his own penis out. Some impulse of curiosity took over for a moment, and I quickly looked down at it. Just as quickly I looked away, but not before getting a sense of something substantial there.

The guy leaned toward me, his head and shoulders coming into my space, his voice quiet like we were sharing a secret as he said, “You know what you’re hearing?”

I did, but I shook my head No.

“That’s a guy getting his cock sucked.”

I knew it had to be something like that, but the crudeness of his words made my penis swell a little more. My mind made a connection, as I realized that this seemed to be a men-only bar, which meant that it probably wasn’t a woman doing the sucking.

The black guy eased away from the urinal and walked over to the stall, not bothering to tuck his cock back into his pants.

“Come over here and look.” He pulled open the stall door and looked inside. My curiosity got the better of me. I looked around the edge of stall’s partition to see a well-built man in a tight t-shirt standing there with his jeans around his ankles. Another man in a dress shirt was on his knees before him, his head bobbing up and down on the man’s cock. The sucking man’s wavy brown hair curled and shimmered over the crisp collar of his shirt, but his clean white shirt had acquired a dirty smudge along the back. I wondered what condition his dress pants would be in after kneeling on this not-too-clean bathroom floor.

I’d never seen a man actually getting his cock sucked by another man, though phantom images had occasionally floated through my mind.

The guy getting the blowjob looked up and smiled at me, his eyes filled with pleasure and mine with shock. The man sucking kept up his pace, unaware that we were watching until the guy put his hands on the sides of his head to stop him and said, “Look behind you, cocksucker. We have an audience.” The guy on his knees reluctantly let the hard cock slip away from his mouth, looked over his shoulder to see us watching and gave a moan.

I had the impression of a handsome face with saliva- and precum-smeared lips, before the face was again buried in the standing guy’s groin.

It was shocking and somehow embarrassing to see two men having sex–but I also couldn’t stop looking. Such a private act, I thought, but in this semi-public place.

The black man beside me said, “Which guy do you want to be?”

I didn’t reply, and I felt my face redden and my neck flush.

“Oh come on,” he said. “It turns you on. You can’t stop looking.”

“Yes, I can,” I said. “And I don’t want to be either.”

“Ha,” he laughed, “that’s a big fat lie. I can see the way your pants are tented out.”

I moved a hand over my crotch to hide the evidence.

“Let me guess–I’ll bet you’re a cocksucker too. I saw how you licked your lips just now. A sure sign. You want to be the guy kneeling between those legs.”

My face reddened more, and I closed my mouth, to prevent it from betraying me further.

He looked me up and down. “You’re not from this part of town, not with those clothes. But now that you’re here, you’d go right down on this bathroom floor and let a guy use your mouth, wouldn’t you?”

The thought was shocking to me.

“Do you want help out giving the blowjob? Get your face down in there pornhub too? A fine pair of cocksuckers you two would make, good-looking guys like you.”

“No,” I said hastily, but I felt like I was radiating heat and my clothes felt too tight for my body.

“Or are you greedy and want that cock just for you? Not that he’d share. He wants all that sperm for himself.”

It was hard to believe the words I was hearing, and even harder to believe how much I liked them. A dark liking. A urinal, a strange man hanging around, a stall with two men having sex, and being told words like cock, suck, and sperm.

“Or maybe you’d rather have a juicy black dick. Like mine.” He squeezed the shaft of his cock, which was hanging impressively outside his pants, watching my face to see my reaction. Again my eyes betrayed me and glanced down at the bulging, purplish-black head, so different from my pinkish-tan one. Even worse, I found myself staring at it, and had to stifle an impulse to lick my lips.

Where the hell were these feelings coming from?

“I thought so,” he chuckled. “A real cocksucker.”

“You’d be surprised,” he continued, placing his hand on my shoulder, “at some of the things that go on here. Most of the action is out there”–he jerked his thumb in the direction of the main bar–“guys meeting and taking each other home.” After a pause. “Or doing stuff out in the parking lot when they can’t wait.”

He looked down again at the guy on his knees. “But sometimes we get a hot one. Some guy who is so turned on and desperate that he needs to do it right here in the restroom.”

He gestured at the handsome man on his knees. “Like this guy. Every month or so he comes here. He likes to suck men off, a different man each time.”

Once a month, I thought, wondering irrationally, Does it coincide with the full moon?

The black man’s hand slipped around to my other shoulder, and he pulled me in closer to his head, again as if to share a secret. “But other guys who end up here in the restroom have different needs. Some like to lick asses. Imagine that. Some want to fuck a man in the ass–or get fucked themselves, up against the stall wall. Maybe that’s what you’d like too.” His face was very close to mine now, and for a moment I felt his cock brush against my pants as he leaned in even closer.

“And let me tell you about this one guy … we don’t see him too often. But, wow, when he’s here it’s a real party. Very nice body, and he likes to get completely naked and invite several guys to–“

That was too much for me, as indefinable feelings rushed through me, and I turned away from him, releasing my shoulder from his hand’s grasp, needing to get out of there. I jerked open the restroom door, and outside it a crowd of men was between me and the exit, but I ignored them and pushed my way though, awkwardly bending at the waist to hide my erection.

A minute later I was out in the parking lot, standing beside my car, key in my hand, trying to calm my breathing. I needed to get away from this place.

A minute later I was still standing there. Instead of getting into the car and driving away, I had half-turned back toward the bar entry and was looking at the light streaming out from around the door frame and listening to the pulse of the pounding music.

This is ridiculous, I told myself. That was just a weird moment in there. Let it go.

I looked around the parking lot, trying to see if anyone was lurking in hidden corners or the black alley between the bar and some sort of out-building with a single dim light illuminating its entry.

Besides, you could get mugged hanging around a place like this after midnight in the dark.

But I still stood there, looking towards the bar, needing to make a decision.

The white dress shirt came out a few minutes later, with his head down and his hand still wiping his mouth. His eyes briefly glanced my way but immediately turned away. Probably didn’t want to be seen coming out of a place like this. He got into a sleek car not far from mine and drove away.

I should do the same, I told myself. What if I’m seen at a place like this? Just get in the car and go.

I opened my car door but something prevented me from getting in. I looked back toward the entry to the bar.

I could go back in and just have a drink. Check it out a little. Places like this really exist. The reality of it was hitting me for the first time. They’re not just semi-mythical places you hear whispered about or make jokes about where the gays and the queers and the faggots hang out. One drink. What could it hurt?

But I knew the answer. Who are you kidding? You’re not thinking about a drink. You’re thinking about what happened in the restroom.

Decision: No. I’m not a … I’m not one of those guys who …

That’s not me, I told myself firmly, and slipped into my car.

The black man’s voice took me by surprise. “So you’re still here,” he said.

It was unnerving how a big man like him could appear close so suddenly. His one hand was on the car door, holding porno 92 it open, his other hand was resting on the roof.

From my sitting position in the car seat, I could see only his crotch and waist and had to peer up to see his face looking down at me. I swung my feet out of the car to get a better position, but that only brought me closer to his legs with my face at level with his groin.

He gave a little laugh at that, but placed both hands on the top frame of the car, took a half step back and leaned over to talk to me.

“You know what I think?” he said.

I didn’t want to know what he thought, but he continued anyway. “I think you’ve never actually sucked a cock, but now you’re realizing that you really need to.”

I couldn’t say No.

“Yep, now you actually see a guy giving another guy a blowjob, you lay eyes on my big dick, and it’s too much for you–suddenly you know it can’t just be a secret fantasy anymore.”

How did he know what fantasies I’d had?

“And you know what else I think? You probably have a girlfriend, and you really do love her, right?”

I nodded Yes before I could stop myself. He didn’t need to know that.

“Does she know about your secret cocksucker fantasies?” and his eyes looked directly into mine as he asked. “How you want big dicks in your mouth? That you need to be on your knees before a man, while he slides his cock between your lips and over your tongue and into your throat?”

Against my will, my cock was growing hard in my pants again, and again I forced my open mouth to close. Why did those dirty words turn me on so fast?

“Never mind. We’ll talk about your girlfriend another time. Maybe she’s secretly into you being a cocksucker too.”

Another time? There was not going to be another time. This perversity was not really me. My mind rushed oddly ahead to wondering what I’d say when I got home and she asked how my trip went this time.

The man paused for a moment, considering what to say next, the faint moonlight making his dark skin seem to gleam.

“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll be back here in one week. Next Friday night. Be here at midnight.”

Finally I could force some words out of my mouth: “What make you think I want to come back here again?”

“Of course you do. So we’ll meet in the bar, and you can ask me to let you suck my cock.”

What? But I didn’t actually say that out loud.

“By then I’ll be really full of sperm and need to release. Your mouth and my cock will have a hot date.”

His hand suddenly reached down and cupped my chin and jawline, his thumb moving firmly over my lips. “You have good lips for it. Nice and full. And I recover fast, so probably I’ll use your mouth twice that night.”

I wanted to pull my head back, but in my imagination his thick thumb moving over my lips became his thick black cock moving over my lips, and that image stilled me.

“You can be my cocksucker,” he said soothingly. “Or how do they say it sometimes in this part of the country, in Spanish? Mi chupa pija.”

I knew enough Spanish for that crude phrase to connect.

Finally I pulled away from him, and said “I won’t be here. I’m not going down that road.”

“Ha,” he said. “Tell yourself what you want and go on home and think about it. Talk it over with your girlfriend, if you dare.”

“Just leave her out of this,” I said quickly, “and forget about seeing me here again. That was a weird moment in there. I admit it–something happened to me in there. But I’m not a ….” I couldn’t say the word. “That’s not me, and that’s not what I want to be. I won’t let it happen.”

He just smiled and said, “We both know what happened in there. And I know that right now your cock is hard again. And you’ve been staring at my crotch this whole time.”

Shit.

“I know what you’ll decide.”

I did too. There was no way I’d be coming back.

“See you next Friday, cocksucker,” he said and turned and walked away.

[Darius, voice recorder, Friday the 17th:]

They all show up here eventually. Which is why I love my job. Both of them, actually. Is there anything better than being a bouncer at a gay bar? The things I see. The offers I get. My pick of the guys, and knowing any night I can get off however I want.

Sure, there are differences between the two gay bars. The nice one downtown. And the not-so-nice one here at the edge of town. Different clienteles, mostly. And sometimes I do security at private parties when some rich guy wants to walk on the wild side but needs a guy like me around in case the wildness has to be tamed.

Which I like to do. A guy my size can do pretty much anything he wants, anyway. Plus, I get offers all the time.

After midnight, I typically drift back to the bathroom in the rear of the bar. By then the guys are getting needy. After hours of talking and dancing and checking each other out, things start happening. There’s a bathroom in the front too, but the best action happens in the back. So I wait for something I like to come along, and then I go for qiqitv porno it.

And what do I like? I’ve got my preferences, just like everyone. Maybe some are freakier, not just like everyone’s. Sometimes I wonder about some of the things that turn me on. Not sure what those desires say about me, but I like what I like.

Like that special moment … when a guy’s need becomes overwhelming and it breaks down whatever internal defenses he has. I love that instant. When I see the change in their eyes, or that shift in their shoulders. The moment that they give in to their need. When I know I have them. Makes my dick swell.

Of course, if the guy has a handsome face, that’s a bonus. In that moment I knowing I’ll be seeing my cock slide over a face like that, and that I’ll see him open his mouth wide to take it. Love that. And knowing I’ll spurt onto his chin and over his cheeks and eyes.

Like that guy who was in earlier. New guy. Fucking handsome, almost pretty. Probably gets all the girls. But he has other needs too, and maybe it wasn’t an accident he showed up here. He seemed shocked when he realized what kind of place he was in.

But he liked it right away. That says something. I saw his eyes when he was looking at those guys in the stall. I bet he didn’t even know he licked his lips. Made me want to push him into a stall right then and there.

Maybe I’m compensating for something. I know I’m not handsome. More rugged-looking, they say. Maybe that’s why I like the pretty boys.

Anyway, who gives a shit about the psycho-babble?

I’ve got something they like. No, something they need. They look at me, and something in them says Yes. And I know I can take what I want.

A lot of them have that tension inside: they want to–but they don’t want to too. That’s fun to play with.

They need someone like me who knows what he wants and goes for it. When I want a guy to kneel, I tell him. “Kneel,” I say–just like that. Do I want some part of my body licked? “Lick me here.” Do I want him to strip, right there in the bathroom, so I can check his body out? “Get naked. Now.” Do I want to see him bend over and spread his cheeks? “Show me your ass.”

They always do what I say. Whatever I want. They like the words, and I like saying them. That’s my secret. And I like it best when they’re a little shocked at what they’re hearing. Nobody’s ever direct in life. Especially about their hidden desires. Everybody dances around the subject and hopes somehow their signals will get picked up.

But words have power. So I just say exactly what I want, and they give themselves to me. And I have lots of words. And a big cock to back them up.

So that handsome guy tonight. Couldn’t make up his mind in the parking lot. Fun to tease him. And make him wait a week. He won’t be able to think about anything else until next Friday. Always best to let them dangle a bit. Before they come back. Which they always do. The tension makes them extra needy. And when they’re extra needy … I can really do my thing.

[Jason. Friday, before midnight]

I sat in my car, engine idling a block away from the bar. I could pick out the red neon lights of the bar’s sign. Bar Robb. Funny that last week I hadn’t even noticed the place’s name. Even at this distance I could sense the throbbing beat of music emanating from the place. I had the car’s air-conditioning on but still a line of sweat trickled down my back. Exactly five minutes before midnight.

Two nights after my accidental trip to the bar restroom, I’d broken down and let my imagination take over, jacking off to my memory of what I’d seen there. Just that one time.

I thought that would get it out of my system. Just a one-time strangeness that came upon me and needed to be released. But the thoughts and memories and questions kept coming back. The guy on his knees in the stall. The big black guy with the big …

He’d said I would come back. I almost hated how smug he’d been.

Technically, I hadn’t come back. The bar was still a block away.

Did I really want to do those things? Could I actually suck a …? Did I really need to know what one felt like in my mouth? Or was this just a passing weirdness?

Those questions had tormented me for days. I’d told my girlfriend I had a quick trip out of town. Unusual for a Friday night but sometimes it happened. Said I might be back very late or have to stay overnight. That was a lie. I’d have to face that, but I couldn’t tell her what I was feeling.

How many times this week had I imagined kneeling down and undoing a man’s pants? That man’s pants. Could I really do it? And more … did I actually I want him in my mouth? To make him spurt? Did I want to think of myself as …? To be called that name–or worse?

I don’t actually have to do anything when I go in, I told myself. Correction: If I go in. I could have a snack and a couple of drinks. Soak up the atmosphere. Maybe he wouldn’t be there, and I could just hang out awhile and leave.

* * *

The noise hit me when I pulled open the door, a combination of music and voices in robust competition. I spotted him immediately, at the end of the bar. He was as big as I remembered him, again in a tight black t-shirt and jeans, wearing an earpiece and talking into his device while keeping an eye on the action.

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