Pig in Palm Springs - Part 8 - Gay Encounters, Urination
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This is part 8 of many of this story.
This series is based on true events (a culmination of multiple trips) and fictional fantasies. It will depict many different fetish themes over the subsequent chapters. If you are not interested in m/m kinky gay sex, this is not for you. If you are, get ready!
I walk a few blocks to the center of town. It's a chill vibe and the streets are somewhat quiet, typical for the off-season on a Thursday night. I decided on Hunters as my first stop and saddled up at the bar. I feel a little self-conscious dressed the way I am and smelling the way I do but still arch my back slightly knowing the yellow waistband of my jock is on display. The handsome older bartender walks over to me and I lean in to order over the loud music playing in the almost empty bar. When he walks away to make my drink I turn to survey the crowd. Not much happening and it doesn't seem like the vibe is conducive to my slutty mood. 'I'll try one more spot across the street after this drink' I think to myself, hoping to at least find someone to make out with. I sip my drink and scroll through my phone. Not much happening around me at the moment making it a good time to do some "admin work" and read through all my messages to set up some potential interactions for tomorrow or later tonight if the bars are a bust. I had scrolled to the bottom of the, about to open one of the first of many messages received since posting, when I feel someone bump into my shoulder. I turn, slightly annoyed since there was no one else sitting at the long bar, to see who was invading my space. My frustration immediately dissipates and I blush when I see the sexy man next to me. "Sorry mate," he says in a friendly tone with an accent that makes my ears perk up. And British too! "No problem," I reply with a coy smile. I let my gaze linger a little too long before focusing my attention back on my phone but am distracted by the feeling of his shoulder still grazing mine. Not sure if I should open the message, letting him potentially see that I'm actively on the hunt on the chance he's looking, or just take a shot and try talking to him. I take a sip of my drink and decide to be bold, placing my phone on the bar. I turn back towards him and see he is staring at me. I smile at him and go to speak when he leans over and whispers in my ear; "You stink great stud." I blush and smile at him, we hold our gaze and I manage to thank him softly. We're staring into each other's eyes when the bartender brings over his round of drinks and his check, breaking our moment. I watch him scribble a tip and sign his name with his big left hand while contemplating what to say to continue our interaction. I don't know why but a left-handed man turns me on. Maybe because they're uncommon, maybe because I had a crush on a left-handed boy in sixth grade, but either way it piqued my interest further. "Having a good night?" I ask as seductively as I can. "SCOTTT!!!!!" I hear someone call loudly from behind me, causing his face to snap up in reaction. "I'll be right there," he calls back, looking past me to whomever had called out to him. "Sorry" he says and winks at me. He collects the glasses in his big hands and I watch him walk off to his small group of friends, waiting for him to return with their drinks. He turns back and smiles at me before engaging with his posse. `Oh well,' I sigh and reach for my phone. I read through a few messages from prospects as I finish my drink and focus on tomorrow's possibilities. An empty glass and a few replies later I feel the urgent need to take a piss. I slide my phone into my pocket and walk to the cramped bathroom. There is a flyer for a drag show over the urinal that holds my attention while I let my stream go. Just as I finish, I feel someone standing behind me, pressing into me. "Sorry to have left you without answering your question, mate," whispers the stranger. I could feel his hot breath on my neck and it sent shivers down my spine. The deep voice is familiarly British. I fold my junk back in my jock, zip my fly, and turn with a smile so we are face-to-face only inches apart. I notice he is slightly taller than me as I look into his piercing, dark, aqua-colored eyes. He leans forward and kisses me. Shocked at first, I barely resisted as his soft lips pressed against mine in the public restroom. I feel my cock thicken as he kisses me sensually in a way that has my closed eyes seeing fireworks. He pulls away after a moment and smiles at me. "I'm here with some friends and a cousin for a wedding, they've just left for Chill bar across the way and I'm meant to meet them. Come join us?" The back of his large hand rubs my furry chest as he waits for an answer. He's so forward, aggressive and passionate. I'm about to agree when he speaks again; "Well... maybe not join us, you stink like a public toilet." Suddenly taken back, my eyes can't hide the tinge of hurt from his comment. "No, I think it's bloody hot," he explains quickly and cocks his thick brows, "My mates are just a bit prude, you know?" My face softens to a smile at his admission. "You're sexy. Come," he insists as he lifts my arm and takes a deep inhale of my ripe pit. He sighs, gives me a satisfied, pleading look, and a wide smile as he backs away through the door. Slightly confused, I leave the bathroom. He has left already and I go to close my tab. Either way, I was ready to try somewhere else. Against my better judgment, I find my legs taking me toward Chill. Slightly confused, I leave the bathroom. He has left already and I go to close my tab. Either way, I was ready to try somewhere else. Against my better judgment, I find my legs taking me toward Chill. I light up a cigarette just outside the entrance, still unsure of whether to enter or not. He is fucking hot and British accents have always turned me on but there are plenty of men to play with that take less effort. Lost in thought as I smoke, I see him approach me as he steps from the entrance. He takes the cig from my lips with two of his long thick fingers, takes a deep drag, leans forward, and blows the smoke in my face with a wicked grin and a twinkle in his eyes. He hands it back to me and nods towards the door and goes back inside without a word. This cat-and-mouse game is turning me on. I take one last drag, adjust my bulge, and head inside. I order a beer and lean against the bar as I watch the sexy stranger across the dance floor, inspecting him from head to toe. His dark brown hair is thick and tousled, freshly cut, and starting to go silver at his temples. His manicured beard is dense and contours his high cheekbones and a square jawline, it also has traces of silver peppered in with coarse dark hair at his prominent chin. He has broad shoulders and a nicely swollen chest. His tee shirt and shorts aren't revealing or well-fitted but hang on his solid frame nicely, giving me a hint of what is underneath. His exposed forearms and legs are furry, muscular, and connected to big hands and large feet in his leather flip-flops. He's standing next to a small group of girls dancing. Their presumable husbands/boyfriends sitting close by, uncomfortably straight, waiting to go while a young, femme twink, demands attention. He is doing an incredibly impressive lip sync and dance to the Beyonce remix playing. Scott, or so I presume is his name at this point, looks up and catches me staring. He gives a wicked smile, whispers something to one of the dancing girls, and walks toward me, holding eye contact the entire time. He walks past me, grabs my arm as he does, and pulls me toward the back corner. His hands wrap around my waist and I find mine around his bulging shoulders looking up at him. "So what's your name you sexy, smelly guy?" "Christian," I reply, blushing and keeping his gaze. "Christian, I'm Scott," he says as we sway together crotch to crotch. He leans down and kisses me with force. This one is more aggressive than the one in the bathroom, his tongue forcing into my mouth and wrestling mine until he pulls away abruptly. "I'll be back," he says backing away from me, back to his friends while holding my gaze. I go back to my perch and watch him from the bar as I finish my beer. I start to notice what looks like a disagreement between the drunk girls and the straight men while he and the twink stand by and watch with disinterested frustration. The twink, suddenly and dramatically animated, storms away past me to the exit. The rest of the group follows close behind, Scott at the rear of their parade. He gives me a look that seems to apologize for his unscheduled exit. I've been to enough destination weddings with mixed groups of friends and family to recognize the drama of straight men not having fun at the gay bar they dutifully followed their wives to. They always say they're "totally down" and have "no issue" joining, but it's only a matter of time before they're uncomfortable and want to leave. I order another beer, not sure whether he will return, but not ready to call it a night. I'm enjoying all the attention I'm getting from the other men in the bar checking me out from afar. I may have felt a spark from the British stud but I seem to have more options from my onlookers. I'm about halfway done with my new beer, still unapproached by fellow oggling patrons and not interested in making the effort of a first move on any of them, when I see Scott walk back in. He looks tense, his brows furrowed and glistening in beads of sweat. His eyes look angry until they soften and glimmer as they meet mine. "Now can I have a dance?" he asks, smiling warmly. I don't reply, I just grab his hand and lead him toward the dance floor. We wrap our arms around each other's bodies and pull each other close. We're grinding together, swaying to the music on the humid dance floor as we both work up a coating of sweat while grabbing, groping, and kissing hungrily for the few other patrons to see. He sneaks discrete sniffs of my pit. I lick the sweat off his neck. He holds my face and spits mouth to mouth and then eagerly shoves his tongue in. It's hot, an aggressive back and forth making us both hard. I can smell him, a mix of manly, natural scents combined with cologne and deodorant. His hand snakes into the back of my shorts, palming my cheeks, fingers running up and down my furry crack. The stranger's load from earlier is slimy again from the fresh sweat building up by dancing. I grab his fat dick, compressed in his tight underwear and shorts between us as his wide fingertip finds my hole and presses against it. Normally I'd be self-conscious as he pulls his hand from my gooey crack and licks his fingers clean of somebody else's cum, but he didn't seem to care when he registered what he was tasting mixed with my sweat. Once his finger is licked clean, he returns it back inside my shorts and kisses me deeply as pushes into my hole. I moan into his mouth as his finger slides into my tight ring. He holds it in place like a hook with its fresh catch and his other fingers stretch wide holding my ass in place. Our foreheads are pressed together and our eyes lock as our open mouths breathe in and out into each other's. "Who came in your hole today?" "No one did... a stranger blew his wad on it after eating my ass for less than a minute," I reply honestly with an evil twinkle in my eyes. I am reassured he's the right man to admit that too when he growls in my ear in a lustful, hungry way that tells me my earlier, slutty activities are turning him on. With his hand still down my pants he pushes me forward as his mouth slips from my ear and slides to the back of my neck. He is right behind me, directing me to the bathroom like his finger is a joystick inside me as it massages my prostate. We're in a stall and our mouths are back together. I reach for his zipper but he swats my hand away. He's now working a second finger into me. I can't help the moans escaping my mouth and grind my crotch harder into his, our solid junk crushing each other's. His free hand pulls at my fly roughly and in an instant, my jock-covered bulge is free. In another quick movement, the yellow waistband is under my nuts and he's got my cock almost fully swallowed down his throat. With two fingers working on the inside, he looks up at me with his wide, lust-filled eyes. It's too much and so good and so right, I know I won't last long. My fingers tangle in his hair, grabbing hard as he fucks my cock in and out of his mouth by the fingers in my ass. I'm about to cum and he can sense it, picking up speed and suction and applying more pressure on my pspot. I try to stifle my moans of pleasure by biting my lip. My hole clenches around his fingers deep inside me as I feel the first spurt of hot jizz pump from my piss slit down his throat. He pulls back and looks so fucking sexy down there, with my cock spraying his tongue, filling his open mouth as he strokes my spasming shaft. He is moaning in encouragement and there's delight in his eyes with every flex of my erupting dick. "Fuck" I say smiling down at him as he kisses the tip. My sensitive head slips from his lips as I shudder. He stands up and presses his lips against mine. I open my mouth as his tongue, full of my seed, forces its way into my mouth. Our tongues battle back and forth as we swap the sweet, tangy, fresh load of spunk. We break our kiss, mouths dripping with spit and cum, and we swallow at the same time while looking into each other's eyes. He smiles. His fingers gently slide from my hole while both of us pant. He sucks his fingers into his mouth, staring at me. Everything is so sensual, slutty, and intimate. I reach for his fly and he swats me away again. "Not tonight." I frown but his lips are back on mine and our hands are grasping at each other before I can protest. Suddenly, an aggressive tap on the metal stall door snaps us back to reality "Guys come on, I gotta close up!" the bartender pleads. We giggle as I tuck my softening cock away. Scott grabs my hand and we walk out past the bartender who is looking at us with a knowing, amused smirk and jealousy on his face. As soon as we step out of the now-closed bar, Scott reaches into my pocket to fish out the pack and lighter. He places one in each of our mouths. While he lights them I reach into his pocket and get his phone. I hold it at his face to unlock it and then type in my number before texting "I loved blowing you tonight!" with the kissing emoji. I send the message to myself and then show him what I wrote, making him laugh and roll his eyes. We start walking hand in hand, smoking in comfortable silence. I am leading him to my house, hoping for more fun when we get there. As we approach the front gate, he pushes me against it and kisses me passionately bringing on an encore of fireworks. "Want a nightcap?" I ask, breaking our kiss. Scott smiles, bounces his thick, dark eyebrows, and then starts backing away from me. Disappointed, I watch the British stranger disappear down the dark empty street. I sigh and turn to the gate and as soon as I punch in the code I hear my phone chime;
And kissing you Another chime, then another, and another;
And fingering you And kissing you And sniffing you And kissing you And tasting you Definitely kissing you More next time. X I have a giant smile plastered on my face as I walk into the house. I grab a bottle of water and strip, leaving a trail of clothes as I make my way to the bedroom. I slip the metal ring from my crotch and place it down on the nightstand. I flop on the bed, exhausted and giddy, with the intention of responding back to Scott but fall asleep almost instantly.
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