One of these days, I'll get around to trying my hand at some original Nifty fiction, but this real-life anecdote was just too hot for me not to share. So grab your dick and follow along as I relive this afternoon's unexpected excitement...
THE TARGET SHOOTS FIRST
So there I was at the local Target, needing to take a leak. It's West Hollywood, so the place is always crawling with good-lookin' queers none too shy about checking you out. As I walk into the bathroom, this cute twentysomething steps out, and I kick myself for not getting there a minute sooner. This is my first time to use this restroom, and I'm not really sure of the setup, but it would've been nice to be standing at the urinal next to this hottie, trying to sneak a peek at his fat, undoubtedly cut dick out of the corner of my eye.
I needn't have bothered. The place is tiny and built to inhibit cruising: Two urinals, two stalls, and half a dozen sinks along the opposite wall. Some guy's already standing at the one adult-sized urinal, so I take the kiddie one beside him, but there's a shoulder-high partition between us, and I can't see shit. Besides, he's half-turned towards the corner -- clearly the type who isn't comfortable using public restrooms. Me, I love 'em. I'm a bit of an exhibitionist and love to size myself up against the dicks on either side when the opportunity presents itself. Every once in a while, it can lead to more.
Anyway, the stranger flushes and leaves without washing his hands (hate it when they do that). As the door closes, I hear a second flush, this time from the far stall. I turn my head and catch a glimpse of this hot Abercrombie kid. Tight blue T-shirt stretched across a nice broad chest -- that's about all I can make out before I realize he's checking me out in the same mirror. I whip my head back around to face the wall, embarrassed, and go back to staring at my dick.
I hear him washing his hands. Meanwhile, I'm sitting there trying my best to stay soft. It's hard enough to piss in this unreasonably low urinal without an erection to contend with. Behind me, this stud's taking an awfully long time to rinse, and now I hear him move over to the hand dryer. I'm not sure what to do. Another example of what-might-have-been if only I'd gotten here a few minutes earlier. I step away from the urinal, tuck my dick into my pants and make a rather showy job of buttoning up as I walk over to the sinks.
I can see him clearly in the mirror now. He's blond and built like a baseball player: big arms, bubble butt, weathered sports cap (the kind you buy half-tattered), that cute blue T. My dick stirs in appreciation.
As I start to wash, this older guy comes in, obviously straight, and crosses to that far stall and shuts the door. Now what? I don't dare check this kid out again, but instead look straight ahead into the mirror. Behind me, I see him cross to that tall urinal.
Now, I know he's already done his business, but the guy who just came in doesn't. Hell, he doesn't know I did either. What the hell, I think, and walk back over to that midget bowl again, unbuttoning on my way over. By the time I'm standing beside him, I've already hauled out my half-hard dick.
I turn to look at this kid beside me and catch him peering over the partition between us, checking me out. Guess it's obvious that we're both there to show off, but I'm not used to being so obvious about it, especially not when there's someone else in the bathroom. I slick my foreskin back for him to see, my head flushed a nice plum color with excitement. Back and forth goes my foreskin, hoping that he likes the show, and now it's my turn to look.
Sure enough, he's got his dick in his hand, almost all the way hard and sticking straight out from his body. He's a little shorter than me (say, six inches or so) and not quite so thick, but close enough that our dicks aren't all that dissimilar -- if you don't count the fact that he's cut, that is (I would've guessed as much, since most cornfed white guys are). To my delight, there's a little fold of loose skin that gathers around the base of his perfectly proportioned cockhead when he tugs forward. I watch him do that a few times, taking in the pliable way his cock yields under his firm grip, and then look him in the face again. He's smirking at his brazen behavior, trying to get a better view of me.
My dick is fully hard by now, and the foreskin glides easily as I stroke. He's moved close enough to the partition that he can see me clearly, and that excites me even more. I want to step back so we can both size each other up properly, but there's still the issue of that guy in the far stall. No telling what he can see if he happens to be spying through the crack in his stall door. Better not risk it. Besides, as I lean over again to check on my newfound friend's progress, I see that he's already erupted. I'm just in time to watch the last burst of cum ooze out over that smooth pink helmet-head of his dick.
"Fuck yeah," he whispers.
He stands there massaging his rubbery tool for a moment, letting the cum drip from the tip down into the basin below. I would've liked to see that first shot ricochet against the porcelain, but you can only hope for so much in a situation like this, I guess. His cockhead is nice and slimy, and so are his fingertips. He whisks away a cumdrop with his index finger and guides his softening dick into his pants.
I take one farewell look as his dick disappears forever, then turn slightly as he crosses back to the sinks so he can see me jerking my own rod. He may be done, but I'm just getting started. My erection stands almost vertically, thrust out from my dangling balls. I can tell he enjoys the view, because he's turned towards me as he washes. Screw whatever that other guy in the stall might be able to see, I think, releasing my hands and letting my quivering dick jut out directly towards him.
With one last approving smile, he wipes his hands on his baggy khakis and heads for the door. As far as I'm concerned, that was better than an orgasm. I tuck my own hard-on away. Good thing, too. Some kid's just stumbled into the bathroom, and it's better that I didn't jizz in the junior urinal the way my anonymous friend did in his.
I run my hands under the water and step back into the store, catching sight of my accomplice a few steps ahead. He's just rejoined his boyfriend, a hot latin number with a broad back and nice ass. I duck towards the water fountain, buying them a few seconds head start. I could ride back down to the parking garage in the same elevator, watching my friend squirm as he stands between his boyfriend and me (would they notice my still-bulging dick angled rather indiscreetly in my pants, I wonder?), but that'd be awkward, and I'd rather not think about the fact that he left this guy standing outside while he jerked off with me inside.
That's the problem with boyfriends. They'll screw around right under your noses. Oh, well. Guess it's time to head back home to mine.
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