Date: Sun, 19 Oct 2014 14:48:51 +0000 (UTC) From: fiveholepunch@comcast.net Subject: Happy Meal "Happy Meal" or "McDonalds - I'm Loving It" Scene: Mickey D's Time: 7 PM, just after the dinner rush Hungry, I needed a quick meal after a long and hectic day. You know the place; it's the same everywhere, a large Mickey D's. I get in line to wait for the next cashier. Off to the left something catches my eye. It is a tall, just-adolescent boy, excited as his order just came up. He literally jumped up and down a little as he turned to follow his forty-ish mother and younger sister to the dining room. Why notice? White shorts, wrinkled perfectly. Underneath, the palpable lines of white jockey shorts. Below that, the small, but orbicular buttocks of a youth on the cusp. It was there to see if you had the inclination. I picked up my order and headed to the dining area of the restaurant as far from the screaming indoor kiddy playground as possible. The endless blood curdling shrieks would've summoned the police anywhere else. I took a booth as the place was somewhat empty. After sitting, I looked about. Unintentionally, I had chosen a position near the boy and his family. They were seated in the high counter area; the boy at the end, his approximately eight or nine year old sister next, and then the mother. Divorce, obviously. The boy's position was advantageous. To me. He sat, seven feet distant, at the end of the elevated counter, slightly above my eye level, visible from head to toe at my angle of observation. His mother and sister were mere busts, blocked by the tabular structure. Still, discretion was called for. I began my feast. A sweet sip of icy Coke. The boy was clad in a loose t-shirt, socks and sneakers, all fairly standard. The shorts, as mentioned earlier, were exceptional in their revelatory intimations. I opened the cardboard box and took a bite of my "premium" sandwich. Tasty and warm, more than expected, actually. The boy was tall; near five ten was my guess. This would've deceived a casual observer, but this boy was twelve years old, no more, no less. Another bite. Glasses, passable haircut- more than average intelligence, science fiction reader probably, but ingenuously unaware; of his age exactly. Hot and salty fries, fresh from the fryer and not the limp tepidity of the heat lamp. Another sip of sugar. The sublimity available amidst suburban America every so often. The light shone from above. Illuminated before me; bare, white as alabaster, non-athletic, but delicately muscled thighs. Impossibly long and perfectly hairless; I marveled. A single fry, then greedily four. I partook again and again. I traced my way slowly upwards, reluctant to leave, as if with a moment's inattention the spell would be broken, but I was drawn by a movement. The boy's hand placed a lightly used napkin at his crotch, unconventionally tucked between his legs, squeezing them slightly to hold it in place. The soft folds of fabric above were suggestive of a bounty yet to taste. Well, up to now, this was a banquet of the senses that existed a mere evening ago. What would imagination add? Titillation, yes, but nothing more than a dessert to the main meal. I will indulge, however. The boy became aware of my attention. Propriety demanded he turn away, but I knew he would look back. I had to time my glances carefully to avoid his female dining companions. I could see puzzlement and curiosity in his face. Why was this person looking towards me unabashed? I smiled. Once again, after he and I pointedly looked anywhere but towards each other for a minute or so, I caught the boy's eye. I made a signal, below the sight of the young man's mother who was otherwise occupied with her daughter, motioning with a point of the finger towards the back of the restaurant where the men's room stood. I got up and headed back. I gave a sideways glance as I passed a foot away from the boy. He looked quickly up and then bowed his head. Would he follow? I waited in the lone walled stall at the back. The boy entered a minute later. I held the door open with my left hand and gave a beckoning motion with the fingers of my right. He came forward, nervously. "Come in," I invited. The boy stepped into the stall and I closed the door behind us. He turned about, a foot or so from my side. I knew I had to be quick. "Do you want a quick thrill?" He gulped noticeably and nodded. "Y-y-yeah ..." I wasted no time. I moved directly in front of the lad who was almost as tall as I was. I reached down to slide my left hand lightly up the back of the boy's leg. He jumped and shuddered visibly. "Oh ... Ohh!" I insinuated my hand under the high hem of his shorts and cupped the tender flesh of the boy's bottom. It was smooth as silk and taut as the flank of a fine horse. As he bowed his head, trying to incorporate this novel sensation, I could smell the "boy" in his hair. After a moment he raised his confused eyes to mine. I had a passing touch of those inner thighs as I lowered my hand from beneath the boy's shorts. "Turn around." I turned him to face the toilet and reached down to unfasten his shorts. The cotton was as I imagined it from afar, soft and worn. As I reached around to undo his snap and zipper, I could feel the soft package swelling against the back of my hand, I felt a heat within. The boy began to pant. Unzipping complete, I put my thumbs under the elastic of the boy's jockeys and slid them down to the top of his thighs. An impressive circumcised penis rose in five beats of the boy's heart. It tapered upward to a pointy pink head. Below, a near hairless, but filling sack held two rounded testicles with the heft of a young teen. I took his shoulder in my right hand and steered him the half step to the edge of the porcelain. His erection was visibly throbbing. How many strokes before he comes? Three? Five? No more than a dozen for sure. I took his cock in hand. "Innhh!" "Shhh," I whispered in the boy's ear. One long pull down. "Uhnn ... nnhh." The boy tried to stifle his lust. Another pull. The boy squirmed. Another. "Uhh ..." One more. That was it. His hips bucked forward and his cock jerked, pulsing out one, two, three spurts. I held his hot erection as the twitches slowed. I let go. "Good?" I inquired. The boy just nodded. "Wait two minutes after I leave, okay?" "Yeah." I stepped to the door of the stall and took a last look at the youth, shorts down around those thighs, penis still high. I smiled. He did, too. I could feel the sticky wetness at my cockhead as I went out the door. 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