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|Party Caught (1) (bi:fetish, 1305 words)|
|Author: CatrionaM||Added: Aug 13 2013||Views/Reads: 3995/2882 [72%]||Story vote: 8.75 (16 votes)|
|A seductive stranger met in a club bathroom, a door in the mind opened, an opportunity missed, again. Entirely male-sub PoV & MM scene --- to be continued if inspiration allows.|
He was washing his hands, ready to go back to the bar and the dancefloor, his mind a little blurry with the few drinks he'd had but nowhere near drunk, when he caught in the mirror the sight of the guy at the urinal behind him. He was just about to avert his gaze, conforming to that unwritten code that forbids eye contact between male strangers standing in a semi-public place, bare cock in hand, lest a wrong impression is made, when the guy smiled at him, unmistakeably, strangely, one could say seductively if it wasn't such an absurd notion. Jack just stared for a few seconds, for some reason unable to break that mirrored gaze, then turned partially, shaking the water off his hands, his eyes drawn to the other man. The guy was standing a few metres away, there was no sound indicating he was urinating but he didn't appear to be doing his trousers up either. He turned round slightly towards Jack and it became apparent that he was slowly stroking his semi-erect cock, now noticeably filling out and hardening. Jack stood frozen, wanting to walk out and yet unable to; terrified that somebody would come in any time and catch him watching a stranger jerk off and yet acutely aware of his own cock swelling uncontrollably in his jeans. His own hand travelled automatically towards his crotch, the sudden wave of arousal almost overwhelming. He placed his hand on the outline of his erection. His cock under his fingers felt hot, hard, wanting. The other man's hand moved faster now, his hips swayed a bit and he reached with his other hand and cradled and stroked his balls. Jack pressed harder through the fabric of his trousers, curled his fingers around his dick, desperate to get it out, but still casting nervous glances at the bathroom door. The other guy was now leaning against the wall, his hips pushed outwards, his hand a blur, his eyes half closed. Jack tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry, his tongue needy, his breathing fast and ragged. He bit his lip, hard, and realised that as he did it, an inarticulate moan escaped his mouth. It took all the effort he could muster not to start beating off there and then and perhaps there weren't enough sense left in him just to walk out. He just stood there, his right hand gripping his own throbbing cock, his eyes fixed on the stranger brazenly masturbating a few feet away from him, unsure whether he wanted to be doing the same, or maybe -- just maybe -- he wanted to be standing, no, kneeling by that man, Jack's hands replacing his on that hard cock, his mouth open to take it in, to feel it rammed down his throat until he gagged, until tears streamed out of the corners of his eyes, until the thick, warm jism exploded inside him. The guy came in his hand with a low groan, then walked towards the washbasins without doing up his trousers, his softening cock untidily tucked back into his boxers. Jack removed his hand from his dick, still rock hard and throbbing, and turned round to face the mirrored wall again. Just as he reached out to wave his hand under the tap to get the water flowing -- he didn't really need to wash his hands again, but it was something to do, and they felt sweaty -- the guy stopped next to him. Jack could smell him, the mixture of woody masculine cologne, citrusy soap, sweat and cum. The hand on Jack's shoulder felt sudden and unexpected, even though he'd stood inches away. A strong grip, a slight push that forced him into a half turn. He was a good two, maybe three inches taller and looked down at Jack as he allowed himself to be manhandled like that. 'Wish you'd joined me, eh?' A neutral accent, almost sliding into mid-Atlantic. Slow, low, confident tones; playful. Satisfied. Jack shook his head even as he knew he was lying, his mouth so dry he
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