jaggedhal0 (note the 0 is a zero not an oh)
this is a fictional story based on a friend's experience and written on his behalf :)
Alan was a 16 year old lad, 5'8" tall, slim build but athletically fit, with a dark mop of hair. As he cycled home after a tiring day at school, something drew his attention to the public toilets at the base of the bridge crossing the river. Perhaps it was a sudden need for a piss. Or perhaps, after his afternoon sports, his hormones were in running in over-drive on the production line. It was never easy coping with the changing rooms, being the only gay lad as far as he was aware. So he coasted his push bike down to the toilets and chained to an iron fence opposite.
Alan strolled in nervously through the doorway marked gents. A mixture a stale urine and disinfectant filled the air. There were only three cubicles and each had green vandalised and door thick with graffiti and punched or kicked holes. The urinal was the type where you pissed up aganst a ceramic wall with guttering running in front of your feet. As he entered he found himself alone in there. He stood at the urinal about three quarters the way along with feet apart. He unfastened his belt and waistband to his badly scuffed black flannels and unzipped the fly, opening them wide so he could slide down the elasticated waist of his white boxers with is left hand, allowing the right hand easy access to his fully matured uncut cock.
Alan stood upright, spreading his feet further apart to avoid splashing his dirty trainers unneccessarily. His maroon blazer hung open with a stale aromour of teenage odour under the arms. The school badge hung sadly from his ripped breast pocket. His white shirt, covered in grime from playtime scuffles, was open at the top and decorated with a clumsily knotted maroon and white tie, which hung loosened to fit over the head without being tightened. He looked down at his cock, at the little nob of skin from which his urine would escape. He slid the skin back down his shaft a little, exposing the shiny glans of his nob head, before letting the foreskin return to it's place. He wasn't ready to relieve himself of piss yet. He was hoping he wouldn't be unaccompanied for much longer.
It wasn't too long before that hope was fullfilled. A tall broad man in his 30s came in, dressed in old black leathers. His head was shaved but he had a longish gingery beard and tattoos round his neck. A typical biker sterotype. He boldly entered and came and stood right next to Alan and likewise got his cock out. He too was uncut. It didn't take Alon long to discover this. He didn't hide the fact he was looking. So neither did he make an effort to move, to give the supposed biker a little more elbow space.
As Alan stared at the biker's cock release its flow, Alan began to piss too. "Oh yes" he gently moaned with closed eyes, as if at last he was able to relieve his bursting bladder of its burden. His eyes rolled up behind closed lids at the bliss he felt. When he open then again he allowed their focus to homeback in on the biker's cock. He noticed it had grown and become a little ridged. Alan's cock immediately began to respond likewise. Before he knew it he felt the palm of a hand planted firmly on his buttocks.
Suddenly fantasy was merging with reality. Alan became awash with nerves and guilt as alarm bells rang in his head. The hand was inside his trousers but outside his boxers. Only the thin worn fabic seperated the caress of the biker's rough palm and Alan's firm rump. It felt so good. The biker's other hand came round to Alan's front, under the last streams of golden fluid. Alan was pissing over his hand. As soon as the last drips of Alan's flow had stopped he was pulled round to face the biker and their lips met.
Alan didn't move nor did he try to resist. He was in a state of disbelief and longing. Half of him wanted to run saying enough was enough, but the other half was telling him to stay as things were only just beginning. But he also felt overpowered in the bikers firm hold and allowed himself to give in. He opened his mouth feeling the warmth and wetness of the biker's tongue inside, and responded by letting his own tongue meet his and wrestle. The beard at first looked rough, but was surprisingly soft round his face and lips. As Alan contemplated this he suddenly found himself being whisked into a cubicle.
As if there was no time to lose, the biker pulled down his leather pants and briefs, exposing the full view of his hairy manhood. But Alan didn't have a moment to allow his eyes to take it all in before the biker pulled Alan's clothes down to his ankles. Straight away the biker held a hand to Alan's chest whilst he himself croutched down and took Alan's cock deep into his mouth. The hot wet warmth brought Alan to an instand hard-on as the biker went for him with all he had without a second to spare. Alarm bells rang in Alan's head. He felt trapped. He could move or fight back. But then again he didn't want to. He held onto the back of the biker's shaved head and pushed himself deeper down his throat. It only took a brief moment before Alan felt himself goint to explode. He was too out of breath to warn the biker and had little warning himself. It all happened so quckly. Suddenly his hot cream was spurting down the biker's gullet and he took every last drop, sucking on Alan's nob like a hungry kid on a lollipop.
Alan felt a great wash of ecstacy crash through his entire body. His knees buckled beneath him, but before he could fall the biker had him in his arms. He quickly got up and turned Alan round, pushing him forward and bending him over. Before he knew it Alan felt the biker's cock pressing into his virgin arse. Alan's was n't ready for this and tried to straighten up. His hands slammed into the wall behind the bowl to prevent himself falling over. Next thing he knew a hand was plastered over his mouth and another round his waist, pulling him back onto the biker's cock. With a sudden rip roaringly painful jolt he was more than aware the full length and girth of the biker's cock was inside his tight shute.
Tears filled Alan's eyes. He wasn't ready for this. After a brief pause the biker started to pump. He was going for it. He meant business. After a few moments Alan started to feel accustomized to the biker's thrusting cock. His arse was slightly loosening up to it. As the thrusting continued Alan felt not only the biker's balls banging against his own, but an unbelievable sensation onside him as well. Could this be his g spot he had heard so much about? Either way he was in a mixture of shear pleasure and pain. He didn't think he could take much more of it. His little love shute was beginning to hurt like hell. He tried screaming behind the muffling hand. Then it was all over. The biker withdrew and was on the point of collapsing himself as if he's just run the london marathon. He was sweating like a pig and panting for air.
"Oh man" he goes, "That was awesome. You got a fucking tight arse, man" At that he was pulling up his pants and trousers. "I gotta go" he said, "meet you here again?"
Alan looked at him, tears still filling his eyes. But a big grin spread across his face. "Hell yeah" he said, "why not?"
Comments welcome