Like this last summer, my sex life has hit a dry spell. I’m working on it, but with not a lot of luck. But I do not want this blog to wither and die, so I am posting an encounter from my youth you might enjoy. It’s not graphic, per se, but you might get an uneasy feeling about it. I don’t, but I’ve told others the story and I can see it in their eyes. Read it, but see it for what it is: sex. Nothing more. I promise.
I was still in my late teens, but strutted around enough to think I was wise to the world and experienced sexually.
Technically, I was way more experienced than most by this time, but had a lot to learn, though it would have been hard to tell that to the 19 year old me.
I was in a university hall bathroom I frequented often. By often, I mean 2-3 hours per day, each and every day. Old time restroom too. Marble partitions, six of them, one set that someone bothered to carve a gloryhole into – and done so long ago, the edges had been worn down and smooth. Getting one of those two stalls was always key to a good time there. Rarely were guys sharing stalls.
Today was not one of those days. Not only was I in a stall with the hole, but I had this big lumbering stud outside the stall, peeking through the door crack watching me slowly stroke my boner.
I stayed seated, reached up and unlatched my door. He walked in and locked us in.
I’m a tall guy. He was huge. I’m guessing 6’5” and a good 240 solid pounds. Not fat. Unkempt blonde hair and a goofy mouth. The guy seemed kind of a hick, but one who knew what he was doing – maybe a kind of disarm and conquer kind of thing.
He also had a big cock. 8”, but fat fat fat and with a threatening sized head on it, fully cut.
The guy stepped right up to me and opened his fly and let his dick stand out right towards me. It didn’t really fall out since the stiffness was helping him defy gravity. I took it in my mouth like a good boy. I sucked on it with all the years of my practice but he wanted more.
He hoisted me up by my armpits and normally when that happens a guy wants to take the throne so he can take my 8”. But not this time. He had other ideas. That idea? Ass. My ass.
The gentleman in my stall spun me around to where I was bent over the toilet. Normally, I wouldn’t have been adverse to this, but I wasn’t prepared to be fucked, physically or mentally. I couldn’t wrap my hand, let alone mind, around his cock. What was I doing?
I would say I had no choice, but I did. And I chose to stay exactly where I was. I wasn’t assertive enough to walk away and part of me wanted to be wanted this way. He used his own spit as lube, but even I knew that would never really cut it.
He positioned himself behind me and pushed and pushed and pushed until he “slipped” in.
That big head was really prying me apart and he knew it. I’m sure he had this issue with almost any guy he plugged. While not subtle, he knew what to do. Take control – or he’d walk away frustrated.
He held onto my hips and continued to push into me. I simultaneously wanted it and wanted to get off it He was much bigger, in every way and was going to get his way.
Though he was still in me, my instinct was to stand up to potentially disengage from his pud. He didn’t want that to happen. He turned me a bit towards the partition with the gloryhole and pressed me into that cold marble slab. I was pinned between his warm body and that wall. I’m sure I was blocking anything that anyone was hoping to see through that hole, but not because my dick was through it, just my body pressed against it.
His hands went flat against the divider, as did mine and he went to work.
Nothing was really said because in a room where the floor ceiling and dividers are marble and terrazzo, every word reverberates. I stayed quiet because I didn’t really want anyone else looking in or knowing what we were doing.
The joke is, anyone who might have been in there would have known anyway.
He pumped and pumped and pumped until I heard a noise catch in the back of his throat. He contained himself as much as he could to not vocalize during orgasm. The guy stayed still as he flooded my guts with his cream. I stayed pressed against the wall – oddly a little dejected but a lot horny.
Do not get me wrong, I’m not saying this was not consensual, but I’m not sure it happened the best way it could have. Liberties were taken, I didn’t have enough say into what was going on and how – not that a restroom stall is the place for negotiation.
You know I liked and have liked being, to a degree, rougher sex. It wasn’t the worst encounter, but all these years later, I still remember it. I doubt he ever gave it a second thought.
He didn’t remember me when I went back to his place one night years later where I took it like a man!