If there are any hairless cubs in the back, please leave by nearest exit. This stuff is for older guys. You shouldn't be here (not meant in a bad way).
I am 19. Name is Skip. Too cute for a 23 year old, but I am stuck with it. I guess I'm inexperienced-you might say innocent, at least I was until that night at the Chelsea Bar in New York City.
I had graduated from Columbia U. with a degree in Computer Science. Question now is to look for a job, or go on for a doctorate. This was a new degree and would get me a better job but frankly I was sick of school. All those years since I was four years old. ENOUGH!
My family was willing to bankroll a higher degree, meanwhile I was fritting away time while my classmates landed spectacular jobs for fabulous pay.
I finished a second Martini-my limit. I was chatting with a really nice guy about my problem. He worked for a top programming company. That was important to me as a hung on his every word. Who knows, he may be just help me make the right decision.
He was really nice. Good looking too. He appealed to that little gay corner of my nature. He paid for the last drink and moved over one stool to sit right next to me. His face was so close as I gazed into his earnest expression and watched his shapely eyebrows frown in sympathy for my worries.
I liked him. I almost loved him for listening to me. Several times he reached out and grabbed my arm in encouragement when I sounded hopeless. "You have a lot of muscle there Dude." I think I blushed. I wish I could get over that silly involuntary reaction to a compliment.
"Let's have another round." I told him that I just spent my last ten and would have to toddle, er, stagger home. "Besides," I said lisping a bit, "I have to take a piss."
He looked deep into my eyes and said the strangest thing. "I'll give you $100, if you let me watch you pee."
I thought I heard wrong in my gin fog. He repeated it. "Why would you want to do that?" I asked. "Are you a fag?"
"I'm not in that life, but I have a small streak in me, just like you."
"Shit, what gave you that idea?"
"The way you sit with your leg tightly over the other one, protecting your jewels. Then there's your pink puffy lips that you pout out when you talk. Finally you are too groomed to be entirely straight, carefully shaved and wearing an expensive cologne. But most of all, it's my gardar. But don't get skittish. I'm not talking about gay sex, only urination."
"A hundred?" I slurred. "Okay, where should I do it?"
"Not here. My office is a few door from here. I have a beautiful black marble bathroom just waiting for your piss."
We weaved our way, at least, I did. As we walked, me keeping my groin muscles tight to keep from leaking, my friend introduced himself, Jason. He put his arm around my waist several times to steady me. I accepted that. It wasn't really a gay gesture.
Now I don't want to say that I am antipathetic to gays. I took it out for a blow job from a few classmates in high school and college. (No reciprocation, of course.)
Up the elevator to the top floor. I was now in agony. His office was very impressive. Super modern. Most have cost a mint. We adjourned to the bathroom. My scrotum was aching and I dribbled a bit.
"Okay, take it out and get started." He flicked a new hundred dollar bill again my cheek.
I thought this was going to be an easy and quick hundred. I would say goodbye and leave, but I forgot one thing: I was piss shy when someone was in the room. I strained and pushed, but I couldn't get a stream started. This was embarrassing and .........costly.
"I could help you a little," Jason breathed in my ear.
I gave him a mean look. "What kind of help?"
"Suppose I do it and you can stop me if you wish."
I steeled myself, not knowing what was to come. It was too bad. He made noises like air escaping. It almost worked. A few drops came out. He leaned in close to watch. "Lovely color, and it has a rich aroma."
"Come on," I said harshly. "It isn't champagne. Don't get too impressed. Besides your steam radiator sounds are not working."
"May I try more?"
"Okay, I am in terminal agony."
I jumped as he slipped a hand inside my open shirt and began a rather pleasant stroking of my nipples. I'm a sucker for this, always trying to get my dates to do it. but they look at me strangely.
As he did this I pushed hard.........nothing.
"May I continue?"
"I guess."
He opened all the buttons on my shirt and began tickling my ribs. I am not ticklish there. He saw no reaction and slid up to now damp pit and used his fingers like a gentle scratch. I almost had a heart attack. I tried to suppress hysterical laughter. I squirted a long stream, but it stopped when he stopped and the ache returned. "Nice try," I said.
"There is only one thing. Sometimes if one ejaculates it opens the muscles that control urination. May I try?"
"You're asking to jerk me off, fellow. That's not only close to a gay thing, it is a gay thing."
"No, no," Jason said in a hurt voice. "Gay sex is oral or anal and not the induction of pissing action."
I looked closely at him. He was a very good looking guy, maybe a year older than me. I noticed now that he had opened his fly and his long thin penis was stretching out.
I signed. "You can proceed but as soon as the stream starts you will stop immediately."
He took hold of my big cock of which I am inordinately proud. "A true beauty. Well shaped and, er, really hot looking." He said this in a breathless, slightly hoarse voice.
I am a sucker for admiration of my cock. I let my pants slide down below my low hanging balls to allow full access. My dick was beginning to rise even before he touched it, I guess from his admiring remarks.
His hand was warm and very smooth. At first he just held it in his cupped fingers, slightly moving. He was very gentle, too gentle for me, at the moment.
"Do it, before I change my mind. I good to go."
Jason moved a little bit but he was not of the grab and stroke fast and hard school of cock handling. Not Jason. He treated it like a fine violin. He learned each tremor I felt and played to it. It was thrilling and exasperating. Still he must know what he was doing. I was fast coming to the point that I could not stop the impending ejaculation even if my Aunt Martha were to enter the room. I began to croon in ecstasy, bucking my hips slowly. "Nice," Jason whispered in my ear, "Let the feeling overcome you, don't fight it. Let the piss burst forth like Niagara."
Suddenly it arrived, that overwhelming loss of control. My body was now boss, my brain reduced to a peanut. Now my hips were shooting wildly back and forth. I was gasping as if I had a heart attack. Justin kept encouraging me, even kissing and licking my ear. It was a nice gesture and made my cum even more powerful. Now cum I must. It was speeding at me from outer space as I spun dizzily among the stars, far from that black marble bathroom. I looked down at my cock. I had added two inches to it's length. The piss slit at the tip began to pulsate like a little mouth, then began to spit, first heavy gloppy sperm, followed by long three foot ropes of cum and then........a moment later a bright yellow stream of scalding piss. This went on for quite a while, I felt weak. I had no control of my body and then I farted. It was a loud fart, a wet fart. This was followed by a splattering emission of small turds.
Jason was in heaven. Piss, cum and then shit was his greatest turn on, they way some guys go for auto racing.
He was moaning almost as loud as me as he shot long streams of off white cum in the urinal beside me.
When I came down from this feverous experience and my eyes could focus, there was evil Jason, holding out what looked like ten one hundred dollar bills. I knew I was worth it....maybe more. I mumbled thanks, ducked into the cubical to clean up, dressed and left.
I was alone as the car sped down to the lobby. My face was hot with humiliation. A happy thought grew in my mind. This might be a possible source of extra income. The world must be full of piss and shit lovers.
End
I tried to think of this story as almost an alien encounter. It demonstrates what all of us know, you never know what you might do when dealing with a persuasive person. Jay Robert