TRUE CONFESSIONS OF A MENS ROOM PERVERT CHAPTER 6 -- SEATTLE CONTINUED
TRUE CONFESSIONS OF A MENS ROOM PERVERT CHAPTER 6 -- SEATTLE CONTINUED
Well, it's nice to be back. Lots of adoring fan mail from a sea of masturbating perverts always brightens up the day and makes writing a more worthwhile endeavor. So make with the brightening, already.
In retrospect, and remembering that the University of Missouri was where I discovered and perfected the art of mensroom cocksucking, I think I have to say that the University of Washington really did take the cake as far as quality and quantity of action. I'm going to have to say the young men there were on a whole the hottest as well. I tell you this, dear reader, so you understand why we're going to devote another chapter to the rain-and-jizz-soaked boys of the Pacific Northwest before moving on. Those of you waiting impatiently for other schools will just have to wait a bit longer. But buck up, little wankers: upcoming chapters will cover the University of Kansas , UCLA, Western Washington University , De Paul University, Boston College and University, and Northeastern University . Damn...my jaw is tired just typing all those.
Now, where were we? Well, I had finished up a nice evening during Christmas break in the undergraduate library and gone home with a full belly and happy heart knowing that this school would provide me with entertainment and sustenance during the years to come. As luck would have it, I wasn't able to get back to campus for a couple weeks so by my next visit the students had returned. This was a good thing.
I headed through the cold January afternoon rain to the undergrad library again, anticipating and perfectly happy with a repeat performance of the first visit: a couple boys to shoot their clean-cut loads in my mouth rounded out with a nice funky butthole for dessert. After 40 minutes of patient waiting, I realized that it was just not to be. Two or three guys came in, pissed, and left, but no dick for me. This was a good time to explore the rest of campus.
My CFS printout listed a bunch of places here: both libraries, geology building, geography building, some other building that I don't know what it was, and a gym. I checked the other library again; bathrooms still closed. Right next door was Smith Hall, the geography building, so I figured what the heck. Basement, first, and third floors were all supposed to be good.
Smith Hall -- First Floor
Smith hall is your basic built-in-the-40's classroom building, with three floors plus a basement. The front entrance plops you right in front of the first-floor mensroom door, so that's where I started. Good move!
Upon pushing open the squeaky wooden door, I entered a large room with four sinks and a big mirror. A doorless doorway led into a second room around the corner, with three stalls (one handicapped) next to four urinals. Being an old building, the partitions were marble with wooden doors. A nice bonus is that the partition closest to the entrance went all the way to the floor, allowing complete privacy unless someone actually walked all the way in front of the stalls to see what was going on. So even though there was good visibility from the door, people were plenty bold with under-stall shenanigans. My favorite kind! At some point, someone had also taken a jigsaw to the tops of the stall doors meaning you could just look over the top to see who was sitting in each stall. I still haven't figured out if that's a good thing or not. I tend to think not.
When I arrived, the last (handicapped) stall and the center one were both occupied. I entered the first and had myself a seat. Right off the bat it was obvious that this place saw a good amount of action. There were big cloudy spots all over the tiled floor, the stall walls, and the toilet paper dispenser. In addition, there were probably five or six ¼-inch peepholes at various places in the partition on both sides, affording a great view of whoever was pissing at the urinals along with the contents of the middle stall.
Which brings us to the middle stall. I leaned down and had a look. Nothing special, just a pair of jeans, some nicely haired legs, and a pair of nondescript black shoes of some kind. I couldn't see past him to the other side, though. The guy next to me was pretty engrossed with coaxing his other partner to slide under but didn't seem to be getting much play. I attempted to get him to slide under my side but after giving me a quick once-over, he ignored me and went back to the greener grass on the other side.
Now is a good time to talk about the ravages of time and corporate work schedules. During the years I had begun to lose my youthful good looks and svelte figure. I wasn't surprised to get attitude from this guy, because I was certainly no longer in the target demographic for most heauxmeaux – a quick lap around any gay bar would confirm that – so I wasn't really too offended. I mention this now because it was about this point that I began to notice the difference between the two types of guys who frequent tearooms: on one hand you have "Type A" guys who see the tearoom as an extension of the bar and spend lots of time cruising for that one perfect guy who meets all their standards. On the other hand, you have Joe Sixpack, Type Bs who are primarily interested in the sex and use completely different criteria for selecting a mate – usually heavily weighted toward proximity and willingness. This is why I prefer going when classes are in session. Nearly all of the Type As show up on weekends and make it very difficult for a dedicated cocksucker like me to get any damned work done. I don't like Type A guys, no, not at all.
Presently, I managed to get myself positioned so that I could get a look through the peephole at my neighbor and saw a 20-something guy with dark hair who looked, at least from here, a lot like Keanu Reeves (circa Bill & Ted). During the course of the next hour, several guys came and went from the third stall, but not one of them managed to hook up with Keanu. Either he wasn't interested in them, or they weren't interested. During this time I had discovered another peephole and had a nice view of Keanu's slightly-larger than average, angry red boner as he pulled and stroked it between neighbors. This peephole also afforded a perfectly-framed view of his magnificent, slightly-hairy round bubble but as he squatted down and tried to persuade whoever was on the other side to come over and play.
Finally we had a lull of 10 or 15 minutes and I was way horned up by this point. I decided to ask politely again if I could please suck Keanu's big wang. I whispered, "Dude...slide it under, OK? I'll swallow."
Those seemed to be the magic words. He whispered back, "I can come in your mouth?" and then without waiting for confirmation knelt down and slid his nice boner underneath the stall. I dropped immediately and went to work, sucking up and down with nice even long strokes and doing the usual butthole-touching routine. Keanu really seemed to enjoy the blowjob and responded by humping his cock into my mouth. After a few minutes he whispered that it was coming and shot me right in the gullet with a good-sized, very tasty load as I pushed hard on his butthole with my finger. No sooner had he finished unloading than the door banged open and someone came in. We quickly got ourselves back onto our respective toilets. Over the top of the door I could see a tall guy with a backward ball cap walk by. He took a right at the last stall and had a seat.
Poor Keanu! He'd been waiting patiently here for over an hour and finally gave in and let the pudgy guy blow him. Now as soon as he had shot his load, something hot had do go and show up! D'oh! Lucky for me, Keanu was a come-and-go kind of guy and didn't seem interested in hanging around now that he had emptied his boybag. He left his stall and strolled casually next door to see who the guy on the end was, then wandered back to the middle of the room and just leaned up against the wall like he was waiting for a bus or something. I leaned down and saw a very large pair of ragged-out, dirty white Nikes, a pair of jeans pulled all the way down, and a long-ass pair of lean lightly-haired legs spread wide along with the telltale shadow of someone pounding their pud.
I stood up and looked over the top of the door at Keanu, who just looked back at me, expressionless. I mouthed the words, "If you're not going to, I am" and then pulled up my pants, opened the door and quickly darted into the one next door.
No sooner had I shut the door than Mr. Ballcap was on his knees and shoving a long, curved dick underneath the partition. Down I went, glad to get on with it and avoid any pretense this time. This boy had a strong funk about him – maybe the strongest I have ever smelled, and I was in heaven. As I sucked and stroked with one hand, I slid my finger to his butthole with the other and he nearly hurt himself trying to skitter away. OK then. No butt-fingering. Got it. I coaxed him back into position and went back to drooling on his bone. About this time I happened to glance over and saw Keanu's feet standing right in front of my stall door. Hmm. Looking up I locked eyes with him, smirking down at me while he watched me suck the boy's long curvy cock. As Mr. Ballcap was about to come, I pulled his big tool out of my mouth and looked up into Keanu's eyes while I licked and stroked a load out of it and all over the side of my face.
While I scraped the goodies into my mouth with my finger, Keanu winked at me and then split followed closely by Mr. Ballcap.
Regular readers may remember Granola Boy, my first and favorite guy from MU. He continued feeding me his dick and semen regularly over the years that I was there. Keanu became much like Granola Boy at UW. At least once a month I'd wind up sucking him off, or eating his wonderful furry butt and then sucking him off, or (on one occasion) sucking his toes before sucking him off. He would only do it when nobody else was watching, though (you know what they say about fat girls and mopeds). Nonetheless I always had a great time and I think he did as well.
OK, two nice loads from two hot boys: I was content. I still hadn't nutted myself, though, so I took advantage of the empty room to move over to the third and last stall (the handicapped one) and figured I would just rub one out there before heading home.
I wasn't three strokes into it before the door opened and someone came in and had a seat right next to me in the middle stall. This stall was also equipped with a couple peepholes, so I leaned down to see a nice pair of legs spreading followed by an eyeball looking right back at me. I played show-and-tell with this guy for a while but never really got a good look at him other than to note that he had a really, really fat cock and was wearing an obnoxious plaid oxford shirt. He motioned for me to slide under, so I did. He pulled on my dick a few times, and then lost interest, pulled up his pants and moved over to the far stall. OK then. Not interested. No problem, I'm just here to jerk off anyway.
We maintained the Mexican standoff for 10 or 15 minutes, with me sort of hanging around to see if I would at least get to see anything good while whipping out my own load. I was getting bored and was just about to finish myself off when the door opened. Heavy, determined, stomping footsteps approached the stalls and our new neighbor went directly to the middle stall, walked inside, dropped his pants, and had a seat.
I leaned down and saw an enormous pair of filthy black motorcycle boots and a filthy pair of jeans. Leaning over further, I saw a pair of longjohns that had been white at one point but were so grimy they were practically ground into the jeans, fused as one. Above that, a skinny, nearly hairless pair of pale white legs rose up. I was intrigued, to say the least. While it's safe to say I'm not hygiene-conscious, this probably would have been a bit much even for me if it hadn't been for those enormous boots. Did I mention they were enormous? Like size 15 or 16? Those of you who don't understand why that matters need to go re-read my other stories.
Peering through the peephole I saw all the signs of someone there to mess around so I decided not to play coy and just crawled down on the floor, stuck my head under the stall and had a look.
Yikes.
The neighborhood surrounding UW is full of homeless, street kids, junkies, hustlers, and all manner of weirdoes. This guy qualified for at least three of those categories. He was young, unattractive, probably early 20's, skinny, and absolutely filthy from head to toe. His hair was greasy and matted, a long nappy beard sprouting from places on his still-adolescent face, arms covered with bad tattoos, and standing straight up between his legs was the biggest cock I have ever seen to this day. Honestly...I didn't know they came this big. Fucking enormous. Nearly as big around as a beer can, and longer than two of them end-to-end. It was circumcised (bummer, though probably a good thing considering) and sported a large-ish but not enormous pair of balls in a low-hanging bag of baby-smooth skin. He had very few pubes at all.
Talk about being conflicted! Homeless Guy was young, had big feet, hung like a pony, clearly not a Type A, and ready to play. But it had been weeks since he'd washed his clothes and hair from the looks of him. OK, who am I trying to kid? Regular readers should know by now that there was, at most, a split-second of indecision before I reached up for that big fucking horsecock and pulled him right down onto the floor in front of my face. I took a tentative whiff, then another, and found him surprisingly odor-free. His cock was clean and pink, and his nutsack as well. Clearly he was either staying somewhere with access to running water or wherever he slept last had someone who hosed him off before they turned him back out on the street.
Either way, I swooped down on that giant cuntbuster of his and, much to my dismay was unable to even get the head of it in my mouth. It was just too fucking big. He just squatted there on those huge feet with my head under the partition, pressing his cock down with a grimy thumb while I licked and slurped up and down the shaft and tongued the head.
After a couple minutes of this, he turned around to see Mr. Preppy on his knees on the other side with his fat boner standing at attention. Homeless guy spun around while still squatting down and went down on Mr. Preppy's tool. He went slowly, taking nice long steady strokes. Evidently he knew what he was doing, because Mr. Preppy was grunting and carrying on like he was in ecstasy. Of course, this posture took away the big dick I was playing with and presented me with something even more interesting: a nice hairless ass with a perfectly round little dark-pink butthole in the middle. A cursory check revealed him to be more-or-less clean back there, nothing crusty or otherwise, and since there was no hair it was practically odor free. Practically.
You know what comes next, don't you?
I forced myself further underneath the stall partition, flat on my back, and went ahead and helped myself to a little prime boyass. Fuck, it was good. I licked up and down his smooth crack a bit, then pressed my tongue directly into his hole. It opened right up, letting me get a good part of my tongue actually up inside him. He hissed that it felt good, so I just kept darting my tongue in and out, running it around the rim, generally giving him a five-star ass-eating.
After a while, my tongue started to get tired and my jaw was cramping, so I decided to see if I could get him to turn around and let me play with that spectacular fucktool of his again. I pushed up slightly, thinking he would stand and turn around. Turn around he did, but instead of feeding me his dick, he moved back and squatted down over the drippy-wet dick of Mr. Preppy, freshly pulled from his mouth. With no hesitation at all, he positioned his wet hole over the cock and slid about halfway down in one smooth move. I think Mr. Preppy and myself let out a "fuck!" simultaneously. I slid back enough to look the kid in the face and it was clear he was whacked out on some powerful drugs. Staring at the partition wall, he proceeded to raise and lower himself on Mr. Preppy's fat cock over and over again – never able to get it all the way inside him because of the angle – for a good three or four minutes. I made a lame attempt to slide all the way underneath the partition so I could try to suck him while he did this, but there was no way I was going to fit, so I just reached up with one hand and stroked his magnificent dong while he slid up and down on the cock in his ass. It didn't take long before Mr. Preppy whispered that he was going to come. Homeless Guy kept riding, so Mr. Preppy delivered a more urgent notice – "Dude! I'm going to come right now! Get off!" Clearly, Homeless Guy was not interested in interruptusing any coitus, and he just kept up his same up-and-down pace. Within seconds, Mr. Preppy grunted loudly and I watched his nuts rise in their sack while his whole lower body spasmed and he squirted his sperm up inside Homeless Guy's butt. Hot!
It didn't take long before Mr. Preppy had yanked his deflating dick out of Homeless Guy's ass, pulled his pants up and was outta there. We were still there, Homeless Guy squatting where he was and me stroking his cock. After a few seconds, he reached down and took my hand in his grimy paw then pushed it back toward his ass. He hunched forward to give me access, and I slipped two fingers into his slimy, cum-fulled hole. With Mr. Preppy's load drooling down my hand, I shoved them in all the way and began rubbing hard against his prostate while he stroked his cock. It wasn't a minute later that I felt it swell up to what seemed like the size of a baseball and he dribbled out a small load that landed on my forearm. Sadly, this was no two-quart squirter. I pulled my slimy fingers out of his ass, scraped up his load with my clean hand and added it to the muck I already had from his ass. Wrapping this slippery hand, which was not my jerking hand by the way, around my dick, it took me less than 15 seconds to unload all over the bathroom floor.
By the time I was more or less recovered and wiped off, Homeless Guy had disappeared. As much as I would have liked to run across him again, that was the only time I saw him.
I did lots of crazy shit (and guys) at UW, and after we get through the other schools I may come back and tell about some more of them. But for now, it's off to Boston. Stay tuned! And as always, let me know what I can do to make your masturbation experience a better one. shoesucker@yahoo.com