Date: Thu, 19 Feb 2004 01:27:28 -0800 (PST)
From: Mark Arbour <markarbour2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: On The Mark 11

PREFACE: I am writing this story primarily as a self-exploration tool.  I
invite you to come along for the ride, which is sometimes rocky, often
boring, and not always happy. Unfortunately, it's not always very erotic
either.  That being said, and if M/M and M/F sex doesn't upset you, read
on.  Since this is my story, please don't reproduce or publish it anywhere
without asking me first: markarbour2000@yahoo.com.


DEDICATION: This chapter, good, bad, or otherwise, is dedicated to all of
my online friends, and especially the guys in fraternity memoirs 2.
They've helped me come to know myself better than I thought possible, and
have encouraged me to continue my story.  I love you guys.  Join our group
at: fraternitymemoirs2-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

CHAPTER 11

	After the first few weeks of class I came to some pretty grim
determinations.  First of all, I was sick of school.  I didn't want to be
in class.  I didn't want to hear another lecture.  I didn't want to learn
irrelevant shit.  Second, community college sucked.  I hated this school.
I hadn't really met anyone interesting of either sex, and the prospects
were not good.  I don't consider myself to be either a snob or a racist,
but the school was located downtown, and drew a large Vietnamese/Asian
population.  They were nice people, and I got on just fine with them, but
there was this great cultural divide (and great language divide) that makes
it hard to build close friendships.  I guess I was just a big asshole in
those days.  Most of my friends had either left town or gone on to the
local state university, so I had stuff to do on the weekends.  I just
didn't have any friends on campus.

	Speaking of culture, I had changed quite a bit from that 70's high
school kid.  The 80's had come, and with it bands like Devo, the Ramones,
the Sex Pistols, etc.  I was sick of disco.  I embraced the New Wave
movement with a passion.  My look had changed to "California Preppy".  My
clothes weren't quite like "The Preppy Handbook", but similar in a West
Coast kind of way.  These were the days of "Dallas" and "Dynasty", where it
was cool to have money, or at least look like you did.  The black comb and
puka shells were retired in lieu of shirts with alligators and polo
ponies. The 18 year old Mark that started college was almost 6'3" tall.  I
had filled out a little, weighing in at about 170.  I still had my swimmers
body, and I'd gotten green contact lenses that gave me brilliant green
eyes.  I know it was cheating, but with those contacts in, I think my eyes
were my most striking feature.

       September, 1980.  I was sitting in my computer science class,
listening to an incredibly boring description of bits, bytes, etc.  Like I
said, this was the 80s, where Windows and PCs were still a novelty, so we
were being "sold" on the career benefits of learning FORTRAN and COBOL.
Wouldn't that stuff be useful now?  I wasn't listening anyway.  There were
two forces battling for attention: my constant horniness and my incredibly
upset stomach.  I'd gone out with some old high school friends the night
before, and learned once again that Jose Cuervo was NOT a friend of mine.
My upset stomach was winning.  "Blah blah blah" went the lecture.  My
stomach churned again, and I realized that it was time for a trip to the
bathroom.

       I snuck out of class in that unobtrusive way, but the professor
didn't notice me, and the other students just looked at me with envy.  I
literally ran down the hall, down the stairs, and into the bathroom.  I
charged into an empty stall, bent over the toilet, and tossed out the light
lunch I had just eaten.  Little did I know that this event, walking into
this bathroom, would forever change my life, and my sexual patterns.

	I was feeling a little better.  Puking usually does that.  But I
figured that I should hang out in the stall for a minute or two, just to
make sure that I wasn't going to emit anything else.  I stood up, pulled
down my pants, and sat on the toilet.  It was a pretty typical bathroom
stall, with walls painted dark blue with some graffiti on them.  Most of
the graffiti was gay stuff, offering to suck dicks or be sucked, with
times, dates, etc.  I'd seen that stuff before, but never really thought
about it.  Then I saw some movement off to my right and noticed a hole in
the stall wall.  It was only about 2 inches big, but I can't believe I
didn't see it before.  There was a guy in the stall next to me!  I leaned
forward and peeped through the hole, but I was trying to look so the guy in
the stall next to me wouldn't notice that I was looking.  At first all I
could see was a leg with what look like blondish-red hair.  As I moved
forward a little more, I could see that the guy had his hand between his
legs, covering up his dick.  I moved up a little so I could get a better
view, and saw he had bright red pubes.  I'd never seen anyone with red
pubic hair before.  I was hard in a nanosecond.

	This was a really weird feeling.  I was horny as hell.  Here, not
two feet away from me, was a guy with red pubic hair.  I'd never been in a
bathroom with a hole in the wall.  I was excited and nervous all at the
same time.  Here was a whole new world opening up before my very eyes.  I
kept looking through the hole, trying to be subtle.  I noticed that he
began moving his hand, but just slightly.  I couldn't tell if he was
playing with his cock, or just scratching his balls.  I reached down and
held my cock down just like him, thinking that maybe he was just using the
bathroom.  I didn't want to get busted and I sure as hell didn't want
anyone to think I was a "fag".

	Then I could see him lean towards the hole, looking through at my
hand covering my cock.  He leaned back a little, and started to rub his
hand back and forth...a little more deliberately, but still not enough to
look like he was jacking off.  I leaned towards the hole a little more, and
he must have seen me, because he started to stroke his cock, although still
not letting me see it.  I followed his lead, stroking my rock hard tool
discretely while peeking at him.  He leaned over towards the hole again,
then leaned back as if reclining, and moved his hand away so I could see
his cock standing fully erect, poking out from his red haired pubes and red
hair covered balls.  I figured that if he could do it, I could do it, so I
started stroking my dick, and he leaned forward again to watch me.  Through
all this body maneuvering, we managed to position ourselves so we could
stroke our cocks and watch each other.  I felt my balls tighten, and my
body tense, and knew I was getting close to Cumming, when the bathroom door
opened up and freaked me out.  We both adjusted ourselves so it would seem
like we were just going to the bathroom...not that anyone could see anything
since we were both in stalls.

Whoever came in took his time, but finally finished peeing and left the
john. After he left, I looked through the hole and the red-headed cock was
gone.  Suddenly, I noticed a red haired leg coming under the stall.  I
reached down and gently touched it, an electric thrill running through my
body and ending at the tip of my throbbing cock.  He moved forward more,
until his dick was completely under the stall.  It must have been 7 inches
long!  I wasn't really sure exactly what I was supposed to do, so I touched
it gently with my finger tips.  He moaned, so I figured that was the right
thing to do, and I got bolder and started running my fingers up and down
his shaft and through his red pubes.  It was really fun to watch his cock
throb as I stroked it.  I couldn't believe I was jacking off a complete
stranger, who was completely anonymous.  He was getting really hot, and he
took over the motion, rocking his hips, slowly fucking my hand.  I could
see his balls tense, and he let out a loud moan and started shooting.
Because he slid under the stall, his cock was aiming straight up in the
air, so when he shot his load fell back on him, landing back on those red
pubes.  He must have been saving this one up, because he shot one monster
load.  I moved my hand to my own cock, and it took about two strokes before
I shot my own wad, blowing it all over him, on top of his load.  Then he
carefully moved back under his stall, wiped off his cock, and left.  I
never saw his face.

	I sat there dazed and confused.  Here was a new world I never even
thought about: A way to have sexual encounters with other guys in a totally
anonymous way, or at least in a way that you were as anonymous as they
were.  At the same time, I was kind of freaked out by the whole thing.  I
mean, it is pretty cheap and nasty, having sex in a bathroom.  In any
event, the whole incident made me forget my upset stomach, but I had had
enough of school for the day, so I went home to rest and think about
things.  I spent the day in my room, watching TV, reading, whatever, and
then I'd think about that guy and his cock, and have to beat off again.
After I came, I'd resolve not to go back into the restroom again.  But a
few minutes later, after I recovered, I knew that I would.  A slut was
born.

	Of course, it wasn't all that simple.  First I had to torture
myself.  There was lots of guilt, and lots of confusion.  What I was doing
was undoubtedly "wrong".  Was this place unique?  Were there other places
that guys went to meet other men anonymously?  And what did it matter?  I
wasn't going to go back there anyway.  Well, maybe just once or twice.
Just to watch.  Did this mean I was certifiably gay?  And oh my God, what
if someone found out?  I had taken huge risks in the past (or so I
thought).  When Darryl was outed, it could have just as easily swelled over
and nailed me.  Maybe this was safer.  Anonymity is a wonderful thing.  No
one knows me.  I don't know them.  No connections.  No attachments.

	In the end, the excitement and the attraction was too much for my
18 year old mind to resist.  There was something decidedly euphoric, almost
like a drug, about walking into that restroom, and not knowing if I'd run
into someone who wanted to play.  I started out just going into the same
bathroom on my way to and from school.  Much of the time, no one was there.
But sometimes there was.  I started to learn the tricks of the trade.  I
noticed that you could tell the old men (affectionately called trolls) by,
among other things, their hands.  Some of the trolls would camp out there
for hours.  I pointedly avoided them.  The subtle hand movements were
almost an art, and it took some practice to know just how bold to be
without committing yourself.

	I was getting pretty lucky, or so I thought.  It seemed that about
every other day, I'd run into someone in the bathroom that was interested.
At first all I did was jack off with the other guy, watching him stroke his
dick through the two inch hole.  I loved it when they'd shoot their loads
on their chest.  That was such a rush for me.  It got to the point that I
could feel the adrenaline surge as soon as I walked into the building.  I'd
try to be coy, and not make a bee-line straight to the bathroom.  I didn't
want anyone to notice me going in and out too much.  It was all a big game.
A big erotic game.

	About three weeks after my first encounter, I took anonymous sex to
a new level.  I was done with school for the day, and at 3pm, I didn't
expect there to be much going on in "the john".  I walked into the
building, felt the normal rush, and since there was no one there, I headed
straight to the bathroom.  I walked in and noticed someone was already
there.  All I could see was tennis shoes.  Could be an old man.  They
sometimes wore cool new sneakers...I was convinced it was a means to fool
young guys into playing with them.  The adrenaline/testosterone rush went
into overdrive.

	I went into the stall and sat down, trying to see through the hole
in a subtle way while I was pulling down my pants and cleaning off the
seat.  I got a glimpse of two almost hairless legs, huge muscular legs.
Legs the size of trees.  I noticed that the guy already had his hand in his
lap.  I leaned forward and glanced through the hole, taking in a quick
look.  This guy had blonde pubes and his shirt was pulled up so I could see
part of his abs.  This guy was Mr. Muscle.

	I noticed that he moved forward, obviously trying to get a glimpse
of my dick.  I assumed the same pose as he did, with my hand on my dick,
letting my shirt ride up a bit.  I could see by the shadow that he had
leaned back, so I leaned forward again to look, and this guy was slowly
stroking his dick.  It was about 6-7inches, and really thick.  He had
leaned back so I had a good view, and he was so beautiful I put my eye up
to the hole to get a whole-body look.  This guy had the looks and the build
of a Greek God.  I'll call him David.

	He saw me looking through the hole and smiled, and he leaned
forward to watch me stroke my dick.  I was excited to jack off with him,
but I really wanted more from David.  I wanted to run my hands over his
body.  Shit, I wanted to run my tongue over his body.  All of a sudden he
stood up, pulled up his pants, and motioned for me to follow him.  I
stuffed my hard dick into my jeans, and followed him out of "the john" and
out of the building.  His movements were so sudden.  I was really nervous.
But my hormones were in overdrive, and I threw caution to the wind.

	David started walking down the path towards the administration
building, and he stopped to wait for me.  "Hey," he said, with this killer
smile, "I know a place that's pretty quiet."  "OK" was about all that I
could manage to stammer.  We walked together, not saying anything, for
about 10 minutes, until we got to the registration building.  There was no
one working there at this time of day.  He led me upstairs to a small
bathroom with a locking door, and locked it behind us.

	David didn't say anything to me, he just started taking off his
clothes.  First he pulled off his shirt, and he did it in such a sexy way,
lifting both arms over his head and bending them, showing off his amazing
biceps and giving me a great view of his pits.  Then he dropped his pants
and boxers..out popped his plump but not hard cock.  I reached forward and
ran my hands across his chest.  I'd never seen a guy with such a
magnificent body, much less touched one.  I was tracing his pecs and his
nipples with my fingers, running my hands over his abs, tonguing his pits.
I was worshiping him, and he loved it.  I felt his hands reach down and
grab my jeans.  I was wearing 501's, and he popped the buttons open with
one quick movement.  In no time at all, he was stroking my leaking cock.
Such a strong guy, such a giant, such a God, with such a gentle touch.

	I started licking his nipples, working each one in turn.  I moved
up to his face, I wanted to kiss him, to feel him wrap his arms around me,
but he turned his face away.  Some guys just aren't into that.  So I played
it off by nuzzling his neck, licking his adam's apple.  I started moving my
mouth lower and lower.  Before I knew it, I was on my knees, staring right
at his fat, hard cock.  I licked the tip, tasting his precum.  I looked up
at him and ran my tongue over my lips to show him how good it tasted, and
got another killer smile for my efforts.  Then I slowly took his cock in my
mouth, slowly going down, and slowly coming back up.  I moved my hands up
his tree-trunk thighs and grabbed his ass.  He tensed his cheeks up for me.
What power.

	He started to thrust back and forth.  Every once in a while he'd
push too hard and gag me, then he'd grab my face with both hands and gently
stroke my cheeks, as if to apologize.  But this was a bathroom encounter,
and no time for long, slow head.  He picked up the pace, pushing his hard
cock into my mouth, and I matched his thrusts with stokes on my own cock.
I had my left hand on his thigh, and I felt it tense up, heard him moan.
He pulled his cock out of my mouth, turned sideways, and blasted his load
all over the bathroom floor.  5 seconds later, I added my wad to the mess.
We said nothing.  We both pulled up our pants, he put his shirt on, and we
walked out the door.  He gave me a friendly punch in the arm, a smile, and
strolled off in the opposite direction.  I never saw him again.