Watching Sean by Tyler Swift
tylerswifterotica.tumblr.com swifthomo@gmail.com
I love going to the movies with my buddy Sean. It's not just that we have the same taste in movies (although we do). The best part, no matter how good the movie is, is the second the credits are over and Sean hops up to run to the restroom. See, we've got this thing, Sean and I, about watching every credit, no matter how long they roll. I could tell you about how much work goes into making a movie, how much those people deserve the time it takes you to read their names, but that's not why you're reading this story or why I'm telling it.
So, credits roll and Sean just bolts. This is a familiar routine; we've seen hundreds of movies together. I follow right behind him. It's mostly a genuine gesture; my bladder's always about to burst, too. I follow Sean down the stairs, around the corner into the dark corridor that separates the theater from the bright hallway. The men's room is right across the hall from the theater we were in that day.
Once we're in the hallway, Sean gets his phone out, checking messages. Another ritual. He'd never do it during the movie, just like he'd never step out to take a piss, but all bets are off when the credits end. Usually he's bouncing messages back and forth to one of the girls he's dating, or his brother Ted.
In the restroom, Sean heads straight for the middle urinal in a wall of seven. I step right up to the urinal to Sean's left. If he thinks it's strange that I don't take a urinal farther away, with more privacy, he's never said anything. I know privacy's a big thing for most guys in a restroom like this, where there are no partitions between the urinals, but Sean doesn't seem to notice. Maybe he's too wrapped up in his phone, or maybe he's got nothing to be ashamed of.
See, this? This is what I'm here for. Fuck the goddamn movies. I'm here for this moment when Sean unzips his shorts, reaches into his fly with one hand, and fishes out his fat cock.
Lots of dudes piss lots of different ways. Most guys hold their junk. Some look up, some look down. These days, lots of guys look at their phones.
Sean? Pulls his dick out and lets it hang. Sean don't give a fuck.
Sean has the best dick I've ever seen in my life. Hands down. Cross my heart and swear to God. It's fat, like I said, but it's fucking big too. A good four-and-a-half, five inches hangs out of his zipper. Sean pulls it out, glances down to make sure it hovers over the urinal, then goes back to his phone. His piss comes quick and heavy, lifting his cock like a fire hose. High pressure. He doesn't look back down at it, doesn't look at the wall, doesn't look at me looking at him.
So I watch.
I've seen this dozens of times. Never gets old. Yeah, I'm pissing too, but that's a background process, because every conscious thought I've got is dedicated to absorbing the sight of his big cock.
Once upon a time, this happened without me knowing about it. In the old days I never drank soda. I sat through entire films without feeling parched. Then I waited patiently outside of the bathroom while Sean took care of his bladder. Then we went to a midnight movie, Fight Club, and I had to get a soda just to stay awake. Don't get me wrong, it's a great fucking movie. One of my favorites. But I'd worked a double that day and could barely flip burgers, let alone stay awake for a movie. By the time Jack puts the gun in his mouth and blows a bullet through his cheek, I thought I was going to die. Or my bladder was going to explode. I was out of the theater even before Sean. I was halfway through pouring the soda out through my dick when Sean sidled up beside me, whipped his dick out, and everything changed. You see, I couldn't help but look; the sound of Sean's piss in the urinal roared like a river, drowning out half the other sounds in the bathroom. Not even the hand dryer could blast away the sound of Sean relieving himself.
And that dick. That magnificent dick.
Here I am, looking at it again. He's got a big thick head, and a shaft thick enough that it doesn't look weird. He's cut, but there's a little bit of loose skin that bunches up right behind the corona, followed by the light brown circumcision scar. Five inches of heaven. His stream is heavy, clear from being well-hydrated.
I could stare all night, but then Sean's shaking himself, the last drops of piss flipping about. I don't know how he never manages to piss on the floor, the way he's not paying attention. I'd piss on my goddamn shoes.
Sean slips his phone back into his pocket and then sets about tucking his dick away. It's a two-handed job. He pulls open the flap of his zipper and then tucks himself away.
My dick's still hanging out, even though I'm done pissing. It's starting to get plump. Still, not big like Sean.
God damn, boy.
Friday night. I'm over at Sean's, watching movies. No joke. It's like it's all we do, even though it's not. Sean's texting through the movie, but it's all right. He's seen this one before, and house rules are different from theater rules.
"Who you talkin' to?" I ask him.
"Suzie." He doesn't need to say anything more. Suzie's this girl he's been chatting with. Far as I know they haven't hooked up yet, but I know Sean wants to. Things must not be looking good, though, `cause Sean keeps frowning and biting his bottom lip. He's hitting the brew pretty hard, too. A bottle shy of a sixpack of empties sits at the foot of couch he's stretched out on, and another bottle rests in the nook of his crotch.
Just before the movie's climax, Sean's phone buzzes. He checks the message, the screen lighting up his face in the dark living room. He scowls and then tosses his phone on the floor. "Whatever," he says, and takes a swig of beer. He doesn't say anything for the rest of the movie.
After the credits start rolling he swings his legs off the couch, stands up and stretches. His shirt lifts and I can see the trail of dusty blonde hair that crests out of his waistband. He's wearing sweats. His dick sways back and forth, clearly visible through the grey cotton. On his way to the bathroom, his foot catches his cellphone, spinning it across the carpet and under my seat.
I drink my beer and wish that we were at the movie theater. I watch the credits.
"You gonna watch me or what?"
What? What the fuck did he just ask? My brain's playing tricks on me. Drunk, horny--
"I have to piss!" Sean's voice rings through the cheap walls of his house.
I jump off the couch and head down the hallway. "Sean, what the--"
The bathroom door's wide open. Sean's standing in front of the toilet, his sweats pulled down to his thighs, his cock hanging out. "I figured you'd wanna watch me." Drunk but sincere.
"Sean--"
"I know that you watch me. At the movie theater? You think you're that god damn sly, or that I'm god damn oblivous, but--"
"Sean--"
"Shut up, I gotta fucking piss."
And he does. His stream arcs out and splashes into the toilet. It feels wrong. Sean knows I'm looking. I can't look away. Now there's no urinal to obscure the view, no belt or jean flap to hide his cock. It's there, piss streaming out of it and splashing in the toilet.
"You can get closer if you want."
I hesitate.
"This isn't going to last forever." Sean nods at the floor next to him. "Although, frankly, it could." He burps.
I drop to my knees. His fat dick is just inches from my face. From here, the smell of his piss is unavoidable. It's not bad, not at all like a dirty bathroom. It's almost clean, like something pure is pouring out of him.
Sean focuses on his piss, his eyes locked on his stream. Then he moves, a quick twist of his hips, and I feel something warm and wet cut across my chest. He pissed on me!
Sean smirks. "What the fuck are you looking at my face for? Isn't this what you wanted?" He slaps me lightly on the cheek with his hand. His dick keeps leaking piss, a steady yellow stream splashing into the white porcelain bowl.
"You are such a fucking pervert," Sean says.
I'm torn. Do I let Sean know how much I'm into this? Do I deny it? Do I reach out and let his warm piss cover my hand? I've never been much into the idea of being pissed on, I just love watching guys piss, but now Sean's pissing for me, inches away from my face. I'm not entirely upset by the fact that Sean just pissed on my t-shirt. The dark stripe of his urine spreads across the grey cotton, leaching wider as the piss soaks in.
Sean's oblivious to me once more, like I'm not even here. Like it's just him and his cock and the toilet. His cock is beautiful, so much more amazing than I could have guessed back when I was sneaking peeks at public urinals.
I don't know if it's because I'm so much closer, or because he's so much more exposed, but it's bigger than I thought, almost like he's getting a little stiff. Like he's getting off on pissing for me. I've had pretty good looks at his junk but it's never been this plump. He's stroking it just a little, pinching it lightly between his thumb and forefingers.
Finally, after what feels like both hours and seconds at the same time, his stream starts to weaken until the piss is just trickling out. So what happens now? Where do Sean and I go from here? Maybe this is the end. Maybe Sean will be so disgusted that he just leaves and I never see him again.
I don't move a muscle, afraid to bring the entire affair to end. The last few drips fall from the tip of Sean's cock and land on the rim of the toilet. I expect him to shake himself dry and tuck his cock away but he doesn't move at all. Another drop.
What appears to be one last drop starts to form but instead of falling it just hangs there, collecting at the lowest curve of Sean's cock head.
"You going to lick it dry or what?" My heart skips a beat. I might pass out. Sean shifts his feet until his hips are turned in my direction, his cock wobbling and pointing at the ground in front of me. He's offering his cock to me. Not just a view, but--
Sean's cock is definitely plumper than it was before. Nowhere near erect but less soft than normal. He wants this.
He's into this.
"You wouldn't want that to drip on the floor, would y--"
I grab Sean's hips. His hipbone protrudes sharply, giving me something to hold onto. His cock waves gently from side to side, that last drop of piss threatening to fall to the floor. I open my mouth and--
"Stop," Sean says. He grabs my head in one hand, palming it like a bastketball. Stops me. This is it. This is the moment where he takes it all away. Where he tells me how much he hates me, how disgusted he is. Where everything falls apart. This is the last time I'll see Sean's cock. The last time I'll watch Sean piss. The last time we'll watch a movie together. The last time--
"Stick your fucking tongue out."
I do as I'm told.
Sean pinches his dick in his fingers and takes a step forward. He presses the head of his cock against my tongue, smearing the drop of piss.
"There you go. Get it all," he says.
It's not much, just a drop, but it tastes undeniably like piss.
"Is that what you want?" I can't answer. Sean pushes his cock against my lips. He slides his hand down to the base of his dick and bats me in the face with it. "You want this, or you just want my piss?"
"I want--"
"Be a fucking man."
I grab his cock around the base, knocking his hand free, and swallow as much of it as I can. Even soft, it fills my mouth. Well, it's not completely soft. Sean is definitely enjoying this.
"That's right," he says. "I've always told you that you need to take what you want."
I bury my nose in his pubic hair. He smells like Sean. Like sweat and funk and warm skin. The smell reminds me of all of the times we've rode skateboards or played ball or worked out. The smell of Sean's body overpowering soap and deodorant. Like sweaty pits, but so much more. Because there's also the smell of his cock, his balls. The smell of Sean honed down to perfection, filling my nose.
Sean pulls his hips back, his cock sliding out of my mouth. When he pushes it back in, the head of his dick hits the back of my throat before my nose can make it to his pubes. His cock swells, pushing my jaw open wider. He grunts a little as he fucks my mouth. His cock has grown enough for me to wrap my hand around the base and still have his cock pushing toward my esophagus.
"Take out your dick," Sean says, pulling his dick away from me. "I want to see how much you're enjoying this."
I twist open the button on my shorts, pulling the zipper open. There's a spot of wetness on my shorts, not from Sean's piss but from precum. A two-inch amoeba-like spread of wetness has soaked into my boxer briefs. I pull the waistband around my dick, letting it pop free. I'm simultaneously embarrassed by and proud of my erection. A bead of precum grows at the slit when I slowly stroke my hand along the length.
"You are such a faggot for me," Sean says. He's not mean, not taunting. He's smiling. "You should have been sucking my dick years ago."
I lean toward him, opening my mouth. He pulls his cock back. It's enormous. Full and long and thick. He bats me in the face with it.
"Jesus," I say.
He smacks me again. His cock is hard and heavy. "Is it just me, or is it all the guys?"
"I--" Sean shoves his cock back into my mouth as soon as I open it. The head feels impossibly large. He wraps a hand around my head, pulling me further onto his dick. It's not the first dick I've had in my mouth, but it feels like it.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me you were gay, dude. Did you think I would freak out? What is this, 1995?"
I groan against his cock, trying to say everything I've wanted to say for the past seven years.
"I mean, I'm not going to give up on girls or anything, and you and I will probably never get married, but we could have been taking advantage of--" His words decompose into a moan as he continues fucking my mouth. "Fringe benefits."
I'm so close to cumming, but I want to taste him. Want to taste his load. I stop stroking myself, squeezing the head of my cock to hold off my orgasm. Sean's back in his own little blowjob world, his head tilted back as he pumps in and out of my mouth.
"Shit, dude. You're really fucking good. You're going to make me cum."
I groan again.
"You want to taste it, or you want to see me cum? Want to watch me cum like you like to watch me piss?"
He doesn't actually give me a choice. He pulls his cock away, leaving my mouth with a cock-shaped hole in it. He starts jacking, his cum rushing out of him in great, thick shots that spray onto my t-shirt. While his piss cut across me in one stripe, his cum splatters in heaping Jackson Pollockian drips. With each stroke he sends another shot spinning through the air, falling against my chest like a slow, heavy rain. He shakes the last bit out, flicking his cock at me with a snap of his wrist.
His cum soaks into the fabric of my shirt, warm and wet against my skin. I can't hold back any longer. I lean forward until my forehead his resting on his hip and stroke my cock, my own eruption splashing out onto the floor between his bare feet. His deflating cock hovers inches from my mouth, my heaving breath making it sway like a mast in the wind. The air is salty with the smell of cum. My body quakes against Sean's. He runs a hand through my hair.
"You and I are going to have a lot of fun together," Sean says.
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tylerswifterotica.tumblr.com swifthomo@gmail.com