Date: Fri, 10 Sep 2004 22:30:11 -0500
From: gloryhole JUNKIE <gloryhole_junkie@hotmail.com>
Subject: Tales from the Mall

Mr. gloryholeJunkie's Tales From the Mall

By Mr. gloryholeJUNKIE, Denizen of the Public Toilets
m_g_h_j@hotmail.com
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/GHJ_MALL_OF_MALES


Disclaimer & Warning

Firstly, if you're a kid younger than eighteen years of age and yet
determined to try sex in a public restroom (as is related in this collection
of true shopping mall tales), we know there isn't much that any author could
say to dissuade you from going out there and giving it a whirl.

After all, the author and the thousands of adult men reading (and jerking
off to) these stories were once your age ourselves ("...my son") and
therefore understand the determined drive of that big boner within your
Tommys.

Male hormones course strongly through young teens making it difficult to get
anything through to your heads (the one with the gel in it). Daily, parents
and teachers try to get you guys to do your home work, (we men would just
tell you to refrain from jerking off all day and...instead do your
homework!); try to keep you away from the "pot" (we men would simply direct
you to a different "pot" - the porcelain one in a park restroom); try to get
you to be mannerly (hey, we men would always remind you to zip up after
giving you a blowjob); try to get you not to beat up on your siblings
(instead, we men would advise you to regularly beat off some of that
adolescent tension...into a very hungry mouth).

So, we all already know its hard to keep you really young dudes from popping
a major woody every two minutes (the only time those baggy pants look good
on you guys, by the way), and doing whatever it is your teenaged cock is
determined to do.

Now, before you get totally confused, this is not to say that your decision
to offer your young physique to any man in a public restroom is encouraged
or condoned. It's just that we men know where it is you're at when that age
and that there is little to be done to keep a kid set on having sex with
strangers in public toilets from doing so. What you're "hearing" is we men
being simply pragmatic and not necessarily agreeing with such a decision or
act.

Therefore, it can only be requested or advised to young teen horndogs to
reconsider what it is their bouncing boners are urging them to do. And to
think twice about where it is that their surging testosterone is directing
them to go.

Before hopping on your bicycle or getting the 'rents to drop you off at the
mall, where you're dead set on having sex in the men's rooms next to the
food court, you are strongly urged to think a little further about what that
decision may really mean.

Do you really, really want to have a man, one who is perhaps four times your
age, pull your pants down in a restroom stall? Do you really want some much
older man, a man who might have two kids older than yourself, crouching
before you to suck your dick? Do you really want to sit on the can and
service different men's dicks as they come under that stall partition? (Some
are really, really big, kid). Do you really want to have those dicks
ejaculate into your mouth? (Yeah, kiddo, men will expect...or make you to do
that). Are you prepared to be finger-fucked by strange men as they tell you
to face the flusher where they then each - maybe three or four or five of
them - take turns sodomizing you? (Word of advice, kid, it's hard to stop a
"train" once its out of the station).

If you're reading these tales, your answer is a probable "yes".

And, sure, it all sounds "glamorous" and like an afterschool carnival of
fun. But is it? Is it REALLY? Therefore, you're asked to reconsider and
instead, as you beat off to the Internet, just shoot into the air one of
those really high arcs of cum you've been known to shoot. Then pull up your
school gym shorts, go outside and shoot some hoops with your buddies.

Now, if that request sails over your head and you scoff at it just as you
may scoff when your mom tells you to pick up your dirty socks, then you're
going to do what you're going to do. Therefore, as men who know where you're
at, we simply ask that you play your restroom games sensibly and safely -
for its not always fun without penalty. You could get caught or even catch
something - unlikely but such things have been known to happen. Just keep
that factoid in the back of your brain (next to those images of Jessica
Simpson, your algebra pop quiz and that desperate need for a first real
blowjob).

Secondly, its advised to the adult male readership, that should you come
across just such a young, horny dude in a public restroom, perhaps one
beating off at the urinals, showing off his rock hard dick needing a bj real
bad, that you shake your head at him, mutter, "tsk, tsk" (just like that)
and then say, "What would your father think if he knew his handsome young
son was in here offering his boner to any strange man?". Then go to the
sinks, still shaking your head, wash your hands and exit promptly.

Hmmm, call it a "homo hunch", but the author has the feeling many of you men
won't heed that advice. But be advised that you've been advised.

These "Mr. gloryholeJunkie's Tales from the Mall" are copyrighted to the
author and should not be re-posted, printed or published anywhere else
without the author's prior, written consent. These tales are intended
strictly for an adult male audience where the reading of such material is
allowed. All others are advised to close this window now and get back to
your Social Studies homework (...young man!).



Preface

What follows are short, true and, perhaps to some, shocking sexual accounts
from the author's young adolescence - all of which occurred in the men's
rooms of various shopping malls in the Chicagoland area.

Although wishing to relate every sexual coupling I had as a young person
(video would have been easier) in a men's room these particular short tales
relate only three particularly "vivid" moments from my rather (hugely)
promiscuous and enormously cumpiggy child and teenhood. Yeah, I was one of
those little "studlets" who had sex with thousands of men before I graduated
from high school. Therefore, these selected accounts are drawn only from
those "mall moments" which occurred between the ages of eight and thirteen
(hey, we have to set some parameters in order to whittle my adolescent mall
sexcapades down to only a few highlights, after all).

Names were never exchanged, therefore, none have been changed. In fact, if
anything, names have been assigned to various strangers (or "story
characters") merely for clarity of storytelling (after all, when describing
oneself fellating five men at a time, it gets tedious to only use the
pronoun "he". You know: "He" came in my mouth and then "he" did too and
afterwards, "he" stepped up while "he" jerked off watching as "he" kept an
eye out for security.).

The locations are all real places. None of the names of stores or malls or
streets or towns have been changed. No one's letting the "cat out of the
bag" here, after all. Why change their names when so many tens of thousands
of men (and, yeah, boys), throughout the decades also sought out (and found)
loads of cheap, easy, quick homo sex at these very same places? Its not as
if these busy men's rooms are major secrets to such men...nor to these
malls' respective Security crews.

In fact, if a man frequents or recalls any one of these restrooms, it will
usually be because he has had sex in one of them. Such men, especially those
of a certain age bracket, may even recall having sex with the kid (me)
described within these tales. If so, those readers are enthusiastically
encouraged to contact the author and share your memories openly and
graphically. It's always fun to "reminisce" with other men who actually used
the same stalls, gloryholes and teenaged t-room slut (again, me).

Okay, for the slow guys in class: Yes, sex happens in public men's rooms.
Sometimes, in some places, a lot of sex occurs in its restroom. Heck, some
locations are rather notorious for the amazing sex men can have in their
toilets.

"Sex in the turlits...why'd people do dat?" (asks dimwitted Charlie as he
picks something out of his navel).

The easy answer is "because its so damn fun!". Hearing belt buckles clunking
on the floor; seeing shoes tapping beneath the partition; feeling anonymous
dicks and scrotums as one reaches beneath the partition; fellating men of
all varieties who have some time to kill while their wives get a make over
at the Estee Lauder counter; beating off with four other guys at the
urinals; having men take turns milking and sucking your cock; shooting cum
into the butt of some guy you've never seen before...but just might run into
again later in the Housewares department...Yeah, its just FUN.

The more technical answer, though, might be that for generations, men have
gotten the extra sex, the extra libidinous thrill they crave, only by
popping by the men's room while shopping or when commuting to and from the
job. The men's room has played an especially important role in more
puritanical societies where men have had to sneak around back (cough) in
order to have the sex they really want - sex with other guys.

The "whys" of sex in a men's room is like a no-brainer, really. It's one of
the few places on the planet where guys gather openly and easily to unzip
their trousers in a public, all-male group environment. And as we all know,
where there's an unzipped man, there is a dick hanging out for the gawking
or the taking...or the sucking. It's just the way men built - all men,
straight or gay, young or old.

Anything remotely sexual will get a man in the mood for some quick sex. And
standing at a long row of urinals with a dozen other men, all unzipped and
slowly wagging their dicks, is more than remotely sexual. The men's room
obviously easily allows men to quickly squirt off a load of pent up semen
into a urinal as other dudes watch. Also, of course, it's an incredibly easy
place to get into another guy's pants. Heck, some big, thick slab of cock
hanging from the fly of the man just a few inches to your right as you stand
at the urinals - who ain't gunna reach over and give it a tug? Even straight
guys gotta give that big guy a feel.

Also, men's rooms, quite frankly (and I know that you ladies may not like to
hear this part), are one of the few places remaining in modern society where
men can go to get away from the little woman or mom or the girlfriend for a
few minutes. It's a room charged, therefore, solely in male energy. And male
energy is usually extremely sexual.

It's just this undeniable, hard-to-resist energy which appeals to most any
male who enters a true t-room. That's why you'll get straight dudes jerking
off, getting blown, shooting up sperm right along side gay dudes. It's why
married men will freely stick their meat into another guy's mouth, screw it
and feed the lucky bloke a milky meal of their breeding DNA. The very "vibe"
of the room, resonating in the loins of every guy, gives them permission to
have the quick, thrilling orgasm every guy craves.

And the author has another theory as well: If sperm is a life source, as it
is, alive and tail-wagging, when men ejaculate, their "life energy" is
actually emitted into the air of a men's john, making said john, a
verifiable "male sexual energy vortex". The life essence of hundreds,
thousands, of men shot in one rather small room, cannot help but fuel the
energies aswirl in that particular environ. That is why many men, t-room
cruisers, sense, just know, can "feel", they're in a really great men's room
the very second they enter it - or even approach its door. As an invisible
yet potent wave of "sperm vibes" pulsates and washes over them, they don't
have to be told it's a place where men come to cum.

There is also the fact that public men's rooms are just that - public. And
as such, they play host, at no cost, to all assorted types of men. And as we
guys all know, there are just a lot of horny guys out there. Add to that, a
large percentile of dudes who like thrill sex, secret sex,
need-to-shoot-a-wad sex, perv sex, hell, any sex, and you have a lot of guys
taking advantage of the "open door" policy of a public men's room. The
simple fact is that the chances of running into some guy who is up for some
fun is spiked whenever one enters a public men's room.

Also, traditionally, as is related to men needing to sneak around, the men's
room has been a married dad's best friend throughout the ages. Married men
especially have cum to rely upon such places for the oral sex (let alone,
"little thrill") they so desperately need and want. They have always been
stopping off places for fathers and assorted married men of all types and
ages. The public toilets are where "dad" could always find relief from the
tensions of his workday, marriage, home life or while on that long family
road trip.

Yup, as families packed up for the cross country road trip to DisneyLand (or
World, depending on which coast you're starting from), all that kept some
dads "sane" during the monotonous countryside, miles of driving and kids
arguing in the back seat was the promise of the public men's rooms at rest
stops along the way.

More than several million (woof!!!) fathers over the decades have blown
their seed in those places conveniently located about every 150miles (or,
yeah, about the time it takes most men to recover and ejaculate again). As
moms got the kids sodas from the vending machine or figured out the next
hundred miles on the map, dads took advantage of the cocksucker who always
manned any rest area. For decades, dads have come out of the rest area men's
room looking "relieved" and "relaxed" and ready for the next leg of the
drive. Wives think its just that he had to piss real bad...let them keep
thinking that.

Also, men's room or "t-room"*...

*(a term often mistakenly thought to be short for "toilet room" but which,
instead, is more accurately an abbreviation for when homo-hot men of yore,
in a time they could be arrested for putting another guy's cock in their
mouths, would use "secret homo code lingo" in order to arrange sexual trysts
in a restroom. Closeted, married businessmen in 1939 would say, "I'll be at
the Johnson Building Tea Room at four...will you be there? I know several
other suits are planning to attend".)

...sex plays a huge role in augmenting the sex lives of millions of
"straight"(-ish) men who, throughout the ages of societal dictates, have
been mandated to wed and produce children. For better or for worse, that
choice did not, though, diffuse their appetite for the bodies of others of
their same gender. Therefore, the men's room made it possible for
generations of married fathers who secretly (verrrrrry secretly) preferred
to feel hairy pecs, heft big scrotums in their palm, suck penises of other
men, screw musclebutt, etc...to do so, without ever calling attention to
either their actions or to their meeting places. For generations, the
arrangement worked like a well-oiled (!!!) machine, making, in fact, some
men's rooms busier and wilder than homo sex clubs, (into which, ironically,
most of these men would never have had the nerve to venture).

And why should these men have frequented riskier (...to be seen in) baths or
bookstores when the anonymity of the public toilets, on many levels, was
even greater than that in certain sex clubs. Who is going to accuse Mr.
Simon of going into the men's room at his office building, after all? Accuse
him of what? Using a public facility for a use in which others are not
supposed to be so "nosily interested" in? The only people who would know (or
should care) what Mr. Simon's in there doing...really doing... would be his
fellow t-room patrons, who are beating off with their slacks at their ankles
in there, anyway.

There has long been a "triple protection" (sort of like a tampon) in having
men's room sex. Firstly, as it usually attracts married or otherwise rather
closeted chaps, after pumping seed into your gullet, once these guys exit,
most have little vested interest in even acting as if they've ever, in their
whole lives, EVER seen you before. Heck, most times, just like you, their
wives or moms or families are only a few yards outside that door waiting for
them. They must, therefore, exit with the classic "men's room poker face"
(yeah, we guys all sorta know what that is).

Secondly, most participants in a public men's room are indeed anonymous
strangers, thereby having not much to say or reason to say much about the
other men with whom they just swapped a wad of semen. Oddly, there's a sense
of security in knowing these guys know nothing about you (except how big
your dick is, how much cum you spew or if you like to swallow nutbust or
just feed it...little things like that) and will probably never even be seen
by you again.

And, thirdly, "technically", its usually considered an illegal act to
deepthroat cocks in a public men's room. So even if you got a blabbermouth
coming out of the john talking about how YOU just sucked HIM...hell, it's
YOU who would be let off the hook...and by Security itself! Yeah, even
Security would have to admit that the guy must have been punched in the
cerebral cortex to have implicated himself in an act he's accusing YOU of.
It just doesn't happen (well, 99.9% of the time, at least): "Honey, that man
over there...that tall one...you know what he did? I was in the men's room
while you were buying a hat...and he comes up to me ...while I'm just
wagging my dick at the urinals...and he like lets me put my cock in his
mouth. And then he like sucks me and stuff and, man, I mean he's waaaaay
better than you...and he goes deep, like all the way to my nuts...and you
know I ain't got no small dick. And so then...he like lets me cum in his
mouth...just slurping up my goo as fast as I'm pumping it out...hell, my
fucking knees fell out from under me, hon! So, anyway, just wanted you to
know...that guy over there is like a...a ...restroom homo or somethin'! I
wonder if I should tell Customer Service or Security about him?"

And, clearly, men's rooms offer the "convenience" factor. And we know that
we guys love convenience --especially when we got a raging boner in our
trousers. Literally, a good t-room offers a greater "convenience" for sex,
and oftentimes hotter sex, than may perhaps even the sleaziest of dirty
bookstores in the area. And, men's rooms are free, they're everywhere, and
no one cards or asks questions.

Come on, we all know the reality of it: It's noon, an office guy (any
guy...maybe YOU) is walking down a busy city sidewalk, no where in the
vicinity of a XXX and a train commute away from the wife. He starts getting
a rod in his pants (yeah, you know that feeling). He was thinking about work
or some fight he had with his wife the night before or where to go for
lunch...when suddenly (maybe after passing a big-titted corporate chick in a
Talbot's suit or spotting some underwear ad on the side of a bus), he's now
walking along but, let's just say, he's aware that his slacks are getting
tighter in the "groinal region". He adjusts his suit jacket or briefcase a
bit as to try to hide the tent his dick is creating. At that very moment, he
knows - as plain as the boner in his slacks - that his "normal workday"
ain't going to be able to continue until he's freaking pumped off a load of
cum. Heck, he knows (as we guys all know) he can't be expected to contend
with his woody for the rest of the afternoon. After all, he's got clients
from Japan to meet in an hour and they need his full attention.

Picture it: It's an hour later at the Four Seasons bar: "Nocker-sucki?
-Sucki? Yeah, suuuuucki! ", he mutters, as he absent-mindedly rubs the hard
trousersnake in his suit right in front of five Japanese investors! (I don't
think so).

So, he's walking down that bustling sidewalk, no fucking XXX anywhere
around, but he darts into the entrance of the next office building (one
every block in major cities, you know). He discreetly (but with a "mission")
finds the lobby-level men's room (as have two other guys already in there).
Stepping up to a urinal, he unzips knowing he can piss and squirt some semen
onto that pink urinal cake (if he wants - after all, no cams in there...and
only a perv, or cock-friendly buddy should be looking at his dick to see if
he has a boner anyway). He stands there and knows the two other guys are
watching (he knows they're cocksuckers since no man takes THAT LONG to pee).
He's done it before so he also knows he's got what they're in there waiting
for so he steps back from his urinal and wags that rod of his. Immediately,
he's getting head from both these strangers, (oh, man, he needed that!),
blows a HUGE load of milky seed into one of their mouths (or, he's got
enough, into both), zips up and exits. Anyone looking just sees a guy who
used the men's room before exiting the revolving doors, returning to the
pavement outside...where he quickly gets lost in the crowd.

That same scenario goes on all over the city...every building...all day
long.

So convenience, is part'n'parcel of the popularity of many t-room
encounters.

Or, when a guy gets hungry for cock? Lots of cock? Heck, a cocksucker can
get bored being "limited" to frequenting only two or three or four gloryhole
bookstores in the city. But if he adds men's rooms to his repertoire? A much
huger world of dicks (and zippers) opens up to him. There are dicks to be
ogled or milked or sucked in hundreds, thousands of men's rooms around any
big city. A cocksucker wants to really "sightsee" in the city? Hit all the
men's rooms you can. Suck young dick in the campus restrooms, service suit &
tie dick in corporate hotel men's rooms, gulp down cum out of blue-collar
cocks in the subway toilets as they head home from work. After all a wealth
of horny men, even in 2004, won't go into a XXX, but they ALL go into the
men's room.

And then, to be utterly frank, (and since it particularly applies to the
true mall tales which follow), the public rest room, because it is, in fact,
open to the public and doesn't "card", is many times where a very young man
has his first "fellatic" experience.

Like it or not, wholesome or not, legal or not, its simply fact. The men's
room, traditionally, has been the easiest place for a young lad to first
experience the sensation of a warm mouth (almost always that of a much older
man) sucking down on his throbbing, energetic shaft and drinking his
freshest of youthful sperm cells out of it.

The ease of finding the head they all read about (like on the 'Net) is what
pulls these young dudes in ...and, then, after they fall back slightly,
winded and drained of cum, its also usually the blowjob they recall forever,
and which, of course, keeps 'em cumming back for a lifetime.

Yes, its true! When these hot kids put their boners between the lips of some
slightly graying man sitting on the toilet, their very first blowjob is
often their Life's best blowjob. And it's the blowjob they go in pursuit of
the rest of their lives. After all, that man is often lavishing decades of
"experience" on these lads who are, unfailingly, always a generation or two
their junior. So years later, when that young little hunk grows up and finds
himself once again pushing his pretty wife's head away from his thick,
eight-inch dick, while he again frustratedly grunts, "You can't fuckin' suck
a dick to save your life...", you better believe he's a man who is
remembering that blowjob he got years and years ago in some mall t-room.

In a related manner, it's the one and only place where a lot of very young
guys, especially if their desire is of a homosexual nature, come into actual
contact with other people -- sexually. Let's face it, even in the 21st
century, many young teenagers do not, will not or cannot share their desires
with their buddies at school (lest get labeled a "cocksucker", which,
although is exactly what they want him to be, is not a moniker he wants
chanted at Pep Rallies). And kids usually can't tell their dads (although,
as we know, many dads, no matter what they say, would soooo understand).
And, Hell, they sure can't turn to their Church - unless they want to run
the risk of getting their very first bj from a PRIEST (furchissake)!

So the men's room, historically, provides a very young dude a "safe haven"
for exploring his burgeoning fascination with all male sex; for touching,
for the first time, another person's hot, throbbing erection; for knowing,
firsthand, what it feels like, really feels like, to ejaculate into another
person's mouth; for getting his first taste of semen.

Even very young men without a proclivity for out'n'out homosexuality (shhh!)
venture in for the thrills of the men's room. Plain and simple, they learn
fast that it's the one place they know where they can go in order to screw
their seed into another actual, living, breathing person! And, where
"...Man, dude, that cocksucker in that stall...like, man...he was like
hungry for it...hungry for my nut pudding...shoulda seen him eating my
sophomore fucksauce, man...the old dude was, like, hungry for sophomore cum,
man...yeah, he was begging to suck ME, you guys...yeah, he'll probably blow
everybody...yeah, you too...yeah, even you frosh dudes!"

(Heck, when that word gets around Truman High, the "old dude" better lube up
his jaws - or he'll have 'em lubed up for him)!

Sure, what these boned up little punks (aw, they're so cute) find inside the
men's room is often incongruent with what they learn at home or at school
(forget Sunday School). Free sex? A blowjob (every teenaged guys' FAVORITE)?
And all they have to do to get one is just unzip...in a men's room? You bet
these guys come to realize that there are few other places afforded a youth
such as themselves. A place where they can get a blowjob, a guaranteed
blowjob, so easily? It's like some light bulb goes off in their minds. And
they don't even have to have "do" anything to get one? And nothing in
return? Except to provide a semen sample (cough). A blowjob without even
needing to have the nerve to ask someone out on a date? A blowjob before
you've even had your first date ...with anyone? A blowjob even when their
allowance wouldn't be enough to take a girl out to anyway? A blowjob when
they know they're too shy to even talk to a girl? A blowjob even though
they're sort of gangling (you know what they say about the "gangling" ones,
dontcha)? A blowjob even though they haven't shot up yet (well, height-wise,
at least)? A blowjob even though they're getting bad grades? And didn't take
the garbage out?

Yes, in the men's room, these guys know they don't have to do anything but
"show up" packing a boner. The rest of their t-room tour is usually
"guided".

So even very straight, junior varsity jocks will gravitate to the easy sex
available to them in the men's room. "Heck, its just a blowjob anyway", they
say to themselves, "A testosteroned kid's got the right to squirt into a
mouth sometimes, too - right?"

And then there is the related fact that Society doesn't open the doors to
XXXs (or "adult" establishments) to anyone under the age of eighteen. And,
yet, as if Nature's Comedy is at work, kids as young as eleven or twelve can
have huge dicks and ejaculate.

Not saying it's a good or noble thing; not to encourage the activity, but
just to openly state the facts: That means there are loads of very horny
youths out there struggling with boners 24/7, all looking for a place they
can enter freely for a blowjob.  Yet, for another five or six... or seven
years, many of the nation's youths are barred from XXX bookstores, theaters
or sex clubs. And yet as any rational person knows, that ruling does not
mean that these young teens' demandingly insistent erections just "go away"
(wouldn't their moms love it if they did though?). Yup, despite having no
"acceptable" place to go or "permission" to use them, millions of big, young
boners are still out there - simply struggling to hide behind schoolbooks or
under oversized t-shirts or inside baggy jeans.

Add to all this the pressure on young teens that they mustn't knock up a
girl or "make" a girl perform sexual "stuff" on them in the back of the
school bus, and well, you have millions of guys out there with rock hard
dicks, and yet having nowhere to, um, go with them.

But they do. For generations, the public toilets have been their "port in a
storm". It's not that its always "ideal", but, rather, just the way it is
(and has been for generations).

Whereas fourteen-year-old boys can't get into a XXX or perhaps aren't even
allowed to date yet (let alone get anywhere within a thousand feet of
squirting semen into a real LIVE girl), these young dudes have long
discovered the easy and convenient "relief" that the men's room offers -
especially those men's rooms located in our nation's malls.

Just as its easy for married men to go in, these lads (perhaps their own
sons, in fact) are also permitted within the pine-scented 'hallowed stalls'
of the mall toilet. Within is where millions of young kids have gotten their
first blowjob. And, once they know how to get there (without a driver's
license, that is), the mall often becomes the place where they are known to
get their daily, afterschool blowjob.

And as such, ironically, perhaps the one thing that soccer moms are most
trying to avoid in this world, is exactly what they make happen in their
attempt to prevent their sons from, shall we say, "growing up". For its in
the public men's room, more than anywhere else that you do indeed get the
married man ...and the young kid ...together...and sexually copulating.

Ironic, ain't it?

Society, especially in certain first-world cultures which have little use
for its male youth until they turn eighteen and therefore can earn money or
fight in war, often try to suppress the natural development of those youths.
Soccer moms, not quite knowing what to do with their young sons' burgeoning
sexuality and developing physiques, notoriously, go the route of keeping
their sons as boys...little boys. And yet, although they are not men or even
anywhere approaching legal age, they are, in fact, not merely "boys".

Soccer moms, on the other hand, also know that their sons are making sperm.
And knowing such a 'horrid' thing, these women proceed to confusedly warn
their boys throughout their adolescence: "... not to fuck girls...don't you
have a date tonight?...be straight...not gay...but gays are okay, too...but
did you call that Ginny from school back yet?...don't touch a girl...use
protection...I better not find a rubber in your sock drawer...I washed your
sheets again this morning...I wish you'd play more soccer...if you
masturbate, Oprah said it might help your complexion... we're out of laundry
detergent...I set a box of tissues in your room...in case you get the
sniffles...did you get the Easter card from grandma?...get ready for
pizza...you're getting taller than your dad now...what's this message, 'To
the Biggest Guy of Truman High', that someone scrawled on your notebook
mean?? ...wear a tie...you really shot up this summer... what do you mean
they still fit but you can't zip up your jeans anymore?...don't play with
your food...you're a fine young man...you got mud on the floor...you need a
WHAT for gym glass? A bigger one?? ...where's your algebra homework?...what
do you mean you're too big to wear the Shakespeare tights in your school
play? You're only 5'6"...you're not too big...oh, I see... go to the other
room and watch t.v...no, you can't watch the Spice channel..."

Yup, moms of boys that age are CONFUSED. They know their sons have muscles
developing under their Lakers jerseys, know they can ejaculate, might even
know they're better hung than their fathers...but they don't know WHAT to do
about it. They have another four or five or six years to go in raising them,
making sure they don't get hit by a truck, get good grades, don't get a girl
pregnant - actually, hoping they don't have any sort of sex at least until
college... if even then (but that's yet another saga).

Yet, "a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do". And like it or not, moms,
these youths are going to get their dicks sucked. They may tell you they
won't be home from swim practice until after five...but when practice ends
at four...its men who know where your sons spend that extra hour.

See, men and "dads" know the kid's growing up and therefore, we don't fight
the process as much as do moms. Dads also know their sons better not be
coming home from the 9th grade with a paternity suit. They also recognize
that the culture doesn't have a lot of "purposeful" activity for a randy
youngster (yeah, they also know their fourteen-year-old sons are
randy...surprise kiddo!). And most dads will be the first to admit there is
only so much SOCCER a kid can play to burn off his sexual energy (24-hour
SOCCER anyone?!").

And dads know what their sons are doing in the bathroom. They know what
they're doing up in their bedroom. They know what the kid's doing with that
computer he got for Christmas ...and his own connection to the Internet.
They know exactly what that "sweet, bleachy smell" is when they enter the
kid's room in the morning.

And even though they don't want their boys risking teen fatherhood, dads
know a guy's gotta blow off some seed once in a while (heck, which means at
those age, lots of times a day usually). That's why dads look the other way
when it comes to their sons and sex. They know their kid has quite a
distraction between his teen legs. That's why they look the other way when
they know their son is going into "hour two" in the bathroom. That's why
they let the kid look at the dirty channel...but just for a sec... before
saying, "Now, now, this is for adults only...your mother and I don't want
you looking at this channel..." Its why many dads try to leave a great j/o
mag somewhere "moderately hidden" for their kid to find (and super nice dads
make it a super hardcore magazine filled with lots of huge gangbangs and
loads of cumshots ...maybe even with a t-room scenario in it).

And its also why many dads look the other way when, deep down, they know the
real reason why their son wants yet another ride to the mall. No kid has to
be at a mall that often, especially when relying on rides from the people
who hand out his allowances. "What's the kid buying at the mall on the
pauper's allowance I give him?", a dad knows. "He's not meeting friends
there and he never has any bags when we pick him up." So, as he drops his
kid off for the fourth time that week (and its only Wednesday), all dads
already know where his son's headed in that mall. But "better he squirt his
loads into the cocksuckers in those mall toilets,", these dads figure, "than
having the kid saddled with getting a girl at school pregnant....or getting
all sexually frustrated and screaming at his siblings again."

After all, dads were all boys that age once, too. They know where they were
shooting their loads at that age too (the modern mall came into being in the
late 50s, let's not forget).

So, they know what their sons are thinking, doing, wanting to do...needing
to do.

And so do strange men.

Soccer moms see young dudes at the mall and worry they're all there to pick
up some innocent girl.

Yet, men see the same young dudes at that same mall and know what they're
wanting and could use...bad.

Maybe it's the way those little hunks keep hovering along the corridor
leading to the men's room. Maybe it's the way they, with their best buddies,
strike a "we make semen now" pose as they sip from their Orange Julius
straws. Maybe it's the way these junior studs are showing off - casually,
"accidentally, running a hand up their t-shirt, quickly exposing the
smoothest of ripped abs; their jeans fitting them subtly yet differently
(and just great) from the way they wore them to school.

One mall "chickenhawk" to another mall "chickenhawk" as they both stand at
the railing fifty-feet from the Men's Room: "Man, that blond one's really
showing off a major bulge of teen cock running down his pantleg, ain't he?"

Or perhaps its just that men know that all guys "of that age" could use a
blowjob. Whatever it is, men seem to know these guys ain't all looking to
make small talk with the girls flocking around the "SunglassHut".

And yeah, some "chickenhawks" don't even know they're "chickenhawks" until
they head to a mall or waterpark.

SIDEBAR: Take the 10-second "chickenhawk" test: Do you, even when with the
wife and kids, do the least bit of a double-take as you pass a group of
lanky young studs "hanging out" by the Hotdog-on-a-Stick counter...and
wonder which of them has a big teen dick or best ripped abs or the hottest,
most fuckable ass - or which among them could best deep-throat a man his own
dad's age?

Yup, you got your answer. (And if you go to the mall just to do that, don't
even bother with the "test").

And, yup, it's "open door" policy contributes to the mood or nature of many
men's rooms, perhaps especially those in malls. They are places sexually
charged not only by male sexuality but also, oftentimes, by the promise of
something more illicit.

Not that we condone such behaviors, of course, but that's why some older men
haunt men's rooms - they're the one place they can get it on with a young
teen, easily and without much effort. Again, that's not to say it's the
behavior of a fine gentleman but its just the realities of the world.

To this day, some older men, those that one would consider to be
"chickenhawks", loiter around mall toilets providing oral sex to any and
every young teenager who might want some (and the teenaged boy who doesn't
want a bj, remains elusive). These older men can spend their entire day
tailing every boned up high school horndog into the men's room, getting into
their pants, giving each a blowjob, and only going home after getting
perhaps a dozen or more wads of very young semen shot into their slight
potbellies.

Then there is their opposite. Other "chickenhawks" who hover around or
inside of men's rooms are men hoping to feed youngsters their first
"mancock". They're less interested -or not at all interested - in sucking
teen dick. These men are more interested in getting young guys - even little
guys - seeing (probably for the first time) what a man's erection looks
like, feels like, tastes like, and how much milk a "daddy" can shoot. These
men get off on knowing they're pumping their own much older semen down the
throat of a handsome, very young man - oftentimes as young or younger than
their own sons (or even grandsons in some cases). For some ("crazy") reason
or another, they want to see a junior varsity kid with their hairy, adult
dick stuffed into his mouth. They are the men who whisper for the kid not to
worry about meeting their parents at Macy's in five minutes as planned.
"Just relax and enjoy a man fucking your throat, kid...I got a big one,
don't I, kid?  You're learning to suck on big mancock, kid...where did you
say you go to high school?...that's it...look at that...you like that thick
meat of mine, don't you? Yeah, keep sucking it...just like that...don't
worry about it, let your parents wait in Fine China...hell, my wife and kids
are waiting for me in the Luggage department...come on, keep sucking...man,
I'm going to give you a huge fucking load...you want my cum, kid? Yeah, I
can tell you do...you're going to swallow all my cum, right? You never had a
man shoot his cum in your mouth before? No? Oh sweet...are you in for a
treat..."

And these men are not always,(in fact, usually not) "gay". Heck "gay" guys
have their baths, backrooms, bars, dates and parties to host their sexual
trysts. Instead, most of the time, it's the straight guy or a married dad
who wants to have such sex with a teen boy whose putting out in the men's
room. Yup, if sex were a game of cards, "Youth" trumps "Gender" most of the
time. Even a rather straight, strict father of four will unzip to have a
torrid, homosexual quickie with a young teen boy in the restroom.

It's the same reason why straight soldiers will gangbang a teenaged guy and
why straight jocks play around with some teen kid who wanders into the sauna
with them. Heck, even if they preferred it, these guys know they'll never
get an "opportunity" with a young teen girl anywhere near the age of this
boy who's sitting in a stall sucking off any stranger. Still, these men are
curious to "do" something with (or to) someone of "that age", if you know
what I mean.

Like the straight jocks in the sauna "wolf packing" the stray teen in the
sauna, that is indeed why you get soooooo many otherwise straight and/or
married men doing 'sex stuff' with male teens in mall toilets. Shit, their
thrill is in the fact they can zip up and walk away knowing they've now
"experienced" smooth fourteen-year-old flesh. Or walk away "dazed and
amazed" that they actually squirted a load into a freshman in high school.

And for many, these men are perhaps reliving the thrill of the early men's
room sex they had during their own adolescence. And while reliving that
thrill (for the thousandth time), they just "happen to cum upon" an
adolescent in there doing the same thing - but for the first time (t-rooming
is an on-going, cyclical process, after all).

In any event, no one in the joint is asking questions. After all, who the
fuck is going to talk about their "illicit" t-room adventures anyway...

...well, except me, your teller of these truelife tales from the mall.

My earliest experiences of a shopping "mall" were when my parents would take
me, as a baby and then as a very little kid, to the "suburban-posh" Oakbrook
Mall - an early and "alfresco-style" mall. Oakbrook had a Marshall Fields, a
huge Sears and numerous other stores assembled in a "landscaped mini city"
plan. The buildings were connected together only by large, wide eaves
("Look! We can shop and not get wet if it rains!", people would exclaim.).
There are pictures of me in a stroller by and, then a year or two later,
standing on the fountain there. Yeah, it was the days when people actually
took pictures at the mall.

Just a few years later, although there were by then several large "indoor"
malls in the suburbs, we lived in the city, in the Lincoln Park area. We'd
often go to Marshall Fields or Carson, Pirie, Scott & Co. along State Street
for most of our "normal" department store shopping. It was the mid-70s and
Water Tower Place, downtown's first "skyscraper mall" was yet to be
completed.  So, as a real little kid, I didn't have much experience with
actual "shopping malls".

But all that changed when I turned eight. In fact, it was just a day or two
after my eighth birthday that we went out to the western suburbs for a
"drive" and to do some shopping. My parents, perhaps wanting to use a
department store charge, headed to Yorktown Mall, in Lombard, where there
was a Carson, Pirie, Scott store. It was April and the weather was nice, so
the Saturday plan was to drive out to the 'burbs, eat lunch and then go to
the mall to do some shopping.

As it was just a day or so after my birthday, my parents invited me to pick
out my own special outfit in the boy's department, as one of my presents. I
knew exactly what I wanted, too. I had my eyes (and boyhood hopes) set on a
"cool" fringed vest, which was, at the time, all the rage - what with "The
Partridge Family" on t.v.. Of course, being just eight, I didn't associate
such garb with "protesting, L.S.D.-using hippies"... but my mother was fast
to point that out and flatly refused to even let me try one on. I grumped
saying, "Why's it in the Boy's department then?". But she wasn't hearing me.
In the end, I did get a tight pair of red pants (YES! RED!) and a nice
Irish-import cardigan though. No, not quite "Keith Partridge" but I will
admit that it made more sense at my parochial school the following Monday
(and, yeah, the tight RED pants I only got to wear when on special
"excursions" with my dad).

I still recall that first time walking into a "real" or "indoor" shopping
mall. At the time, it seemed enormous and noisier than I was accustomed to.
It felt as if we were entering an airport terminal rather than a place to
shop. But with it was that energy, which is very specific to suburban
shopping. Its energy, which is somehow rather sexually charged, made it
immediately "exciting" to me.

People were wandering around eating food, dashing in and out of various
stores. You'd never be on State Street downtown and see parents allowing
their kids to run off to another store down the block. And rarely while
shopping along Michigan Avenue did one see a father separate from his family
to go to a completely different store. But under one roof, at the "mall", it
seemed people shopped and moved about more confidently and therefore with
much greater freedom. And with freedom comes independence (which, funnily,
always leads to everyone just "chomping at the bit" to go their own ways).
At the mall, it was common to regularly overhear, "I'll meet you at Penneys
in an hour, hon" or "Let's all meet back here in front of Carsons at
three...let's synchronize our watches."

People often blame "a-television-in-every-bedroom" households as the cause
of so much interfamilial autonomy. But it's the mall which encouraged the
"do your own thing", "go your own way" so-called family outing.

And some of that was to the detriment of American families. And yet, I
selfishly have to admit that a lot of "naughty fun" comes when daddy can "go
his way" and kids can "do their own thing", all mixing separately with the
general public for an hour or so - and all under one roof. (My, what could
he mean...hmmmm?!).

I was one of those "highly curious" kids who always just naturally had his
antennae up looking for anything directly - or even remotely - sexual. And
my antennae were always and only directed toward full-grown men.

>From the time I was very little, from earliest memories even, I had been
taken with, in a very sexual way, men's hairy chests, big biceps and most
especially their crotches. In fact, I was a fairly serious "crotch watcher"
even when I was in kindergarten (truly was).

And I did more than "look". Before I was eight years of age, I (and my lips)
knew my way around a man's big, thick erection. I was already sucking off
men and my own dad on a regular basis since I was seven. So, by the first
and second grades, I was already completely hooked on the taste of cum. Yup,
you heard me right. In other words, I was a slutty - very slutty - little
boy, which made the "mall experience" perfect for me. The conditions were
perfect since the mall environ was very "safe", and yet, at the same time,
allowed total strangers to freely mix in all sorts of situations and places.

And for guys, a favorite highlight of any mall, was, is, and will always be,
its men's rooms.








"Mr. gloryholeJunkie's Tales From the Mall"
By Mr. gloryholeJUNKIE, Denizen of the Public Toilets
m_g_h_j@hotmail.com

Author's NOTE: All three of the following "Mr. gloryholeJunkie's Tales From
The Mall" are completely true, as things actually happened, in no particular
order and but a very small slice of events from my youth spent in t-rooms.
If you were there, you'll recognize places. And if you were there having sex
and/or recall certain specific encounters (of a sexual nature, but of
course), please feel free to share with me in graphic, yummy detail (I love
to hear from men with whom I just might have had sex)!




Yorktown Mall, Lombard, Illinois (age 8, "The Snake That Spits"):


A day or two after my eighth birthday, my parents took me to Yorktown Mall.
We made it part of a Saturday outing from the city, stopping for lunch
(where the waitress even put a candle on my slice of ice cream cake) and
then some shopping at the mall. We went to the Boy's Department at the
Carson's store there where I picked out some new clothes as one of my
birthday presents.

Afterwards, as it was only about two in the afternoon, my mom said that she
wanted to try on some hats and then wander around the Cosmetics area. We all
headed to the 'Down' escalators but stopping short at the top of them, my
dad suddenly announced, "You know, I think I'm going to run back out to the
car. I want to make sure I rolled up my window all the way. You go ahead,
hon. You know what? Then we can simply meet up later. That way you can take
your time."

My mom knew that earlier we had rolled down the windows since it had been a
nice morning. But she did admit that she recalled seeing a few April storm
clouds circling just before we'd entered the mall. So she didn't mind my dad
double-checking but was clearly a bit surprised by his suggestion they
separate for a while.

Yet she knew that was indeed what you could do, were somehow supposed to do,
when at a "mall". So she said, "Well, what time will we meet up then?
Where?"

My dad replied, "Let's give ourselves, what? An hour? Is that enough time?"

My mom said, "How about we just say we'll meet at three-thirty downstairs
here near the perfume counters." She then went to take my hand, but my dad
said, "Kev can come with me..."

My mom rolled her eyes and said, "Fine, fine. You two do your thing. I'll
see you both then in an hour and a half. It's good anyway because I'm sure
you'd get bored, Kevin."

Hardly listening to what she said, I smiled, nodded and said, "Okay by me".

But my antennae were up. While my mom and dad had been talking, I had been
watching a man, a young dad, in maybe his middle or late twenties, trim,
tall, blondish, in the Infants section which was directly across from the
escalators.

There was a huge 'Winnie the Pooh' tree right in the middle of what was the
Infant & Children's department and that's what had first caught my eye. But
when I saw him, my eyes immediately dropped down to his truly amazing
crotch. In fact, to this very day I recall my eyes widen as I looked at his
slacks, their yellow and blue vertical striping (hey, 1973, people!) making
his bulge just look huge - even from two hundred feet away. He was cradling
a baby and sort of rocking-pacing back and forth a little with it, as his
wife, along with a saleswoman, were apparently selecting items. He didn't
see me but I sure saw him.

"Ready to go?", my dad asked, jolting me back to reality as I watched my
mother already descending the escalator. I was about to step on but my
father said. "No, wait..."

I stopped and he walked over into the Menswear department, which was just
paces from the top of the 'Down' escalator. I quickly trailed him and he
brought me into the heart of Carson's Men's underwear section, where he
looked through the racks and winked at me once or twice as he'd point out
one of the men on a package (or the package on a man on one of the packages,
to be exact).

We then meandered aimlessly around, sort of looking through Men's dress
shirts. I asked him, "Weren't we suppose to check the windows on the car?"

And he replied, as he casually put a tie up to a shirt, "Oh, I just
remembered. I did roll it up. I just remembered." And that's all he said.

A couple of more minutes of watching my dad select ties he wasn't planning
to buy, I wondered why I hadn't gone with my mom instead since I was
virtually as bored with my dad. Well, I was never quite "bored" with my dad
but I was tired of looking at clothes - even if they did have handsome
bulging men on the packaging. My dad, sensing something from me or merely
ready to move on, asked in a very chipper voice, "Want to hit the head?"

I knew what that meant since in various places we'd find ourselves alone, he
often asked that of me. I nodded and smiled. I loved going into new
restrooms.

My dad asked the nearest salesman, in the Men's Suits section where we could
find a restroom. The very well dressed man, in his late fifties, smiled and
said they were located in the far left corner. He then went back to
refolding shirts as he watched us wander off.

With my hand in his, and remaining on the same level, my dad led me back to
where there was the department store's Beauty Salon. From there, down a long
corridor, (which made one feel as though one were on the boarding gangway to
an airplane), was the Men's Room.

My dad pushed open the outer door and immediately I pushed open a second,
inner door (great t-rooms always have a double warning system).

At first, it didn't seem as if anyone were in there. I passed the huge
mirror, which hung over the three or four sinks. Then I stepped up to one of
the two urinals, both unoccupied, which stood to the right of the sinks. I
took one and my dad took the other. I was just getting tall enough to use a
regular urinal, not just the "kiddy urinals", as long as they weren't those
which were mounted so high as to scream "ONLY 7-FOOT GIANTS PEE HERE!".

I unzipped and my dad, who always stood a pace or two back from his urinal,
unzipped and hauled out his beautiful, fat, thick, long dick. He loudly,
almost seemed to announce, "You having a nice eighth birthday, Kevin?" as
his stream of pee hit the porcelain.

"Uh ha", I replied.

"So how's it feel to be eight?", he said, again rather too loudly.

"Good", I replied, thinking it a silly question.

My dad and I didn't usually chitchat at the urinals so the whole
conversation seemed very out of character for him.

I finished peeing but knew that when my dad took me into a men's room, he
always wanted me to suck him off. Its something we'd been doing for a while
now, secretly. I looked at his cock. As his stream came to a trickling end,
he just stood there, as usual, and lovingly, slowly stroked/shook his dick a
bit. He then let it hang freely as it started to thicken and get bigger. I
looked up at him and he looked down and smiled.

I was about to reach over and put his penis in my hand when he gestured over
to the stalls. They were on the same wall next to the urinals. The sinks,
urinals and three stalls all ran along the same wall.

I truly thought he wanted me to go into a stall to suck him there, so
without even thinking, I went to the first stall and closed the door. But I
didn't lock it. For a moment or two, I wasn't even aware that someone was in
the middle stall. I pulled down my pants and underpants and sat on the bowl,
my feet not quite reaching the floor, just waiting for my daddy to open the
door and slip in.

But as I sat with my pants down, he wasn't coming over. I looked under the
partition to the urinals and could see his feet where he still stood at the
urinal. I was confused.

I sat up again and as I looked to my left, a flash of movement caught my
eye. There was a gloryhole next to the toilet paper holder. I looked through
the hole and saw a man seated, leaning back some, shirt up to his neck,
pants apparently way down at his shoes. All I could see was this headless,
nearly naked, masturbating body sitting on a toilet bowl. He had a lightly
hairy chest and stomach and was beating off so fast, his cock was literally
a blur. I recall thinking that I wished he'd slow it down so I could see his
penis better. (Slutty eight-year-old boys, you know how they are).

I leaned in again but as I would lean in, so would he - like he was trying
to also look through the gloryhole at the exact same moment each time. He
sat back once again and dropped his hands to his sides for a moment. That's
when I saw his huge cock bouncing against his stomach and reaching up far
above, several inches above, his navel. I was awestruck.

Then, without warning, certainly without asking, he stands up quickly,
almost leaps up, if you will, and sticks his handsome, extremely long,
nicely thick (but not hugely thick), dick through the gloryhole. It looked
like a long, white Giant Anaconda coming out of the wall. The man sticks it
right into my stall and into my face.

I watched it bounce and then bounce some more. Apparently as it was
"looking" for something. I knew enough about boners at that time to know
what they like and need so I opened my mouth.

The very second - maybe two seconds, but not much more - that my mouth
touched the man's cockhead, he started to squirt. And do I mean, SQUIRT!
Ropes and ropes and ropes of thick, milky, powerful squirts of his semen. It
was all so sudden, quite frankly, it was sloppy! His first squirts blasted
squarely down my throat (it was that powerful a blast). But as it
"surprised" me and as his dick was just shooting off wild like some
unattended firehose, the next ropy blasts of warm, very white "milk"
squirted all over my chin, my neck, the front of my shirt, in my hair. It
almost, quite seriously, SCARED me. I kept my mouth open, catching as much
of this penis' semen as I could, but even at the moment it happened, I knew
I'd be a mess. And I never even once touched his huge (a real nine or ten
inch) erection with either of my hands!

Then the big snake stopped spitting at me but, still continued to stick
itself into my stall (sort of "looking at me", if you know what I mean). It
was still erect and did a slower bounce as I watched it. Then slowly, really
slowly, the man pulled it back out of the hole.  I was so "distracted" by
all the thick white cum all over me that I didn't even think to look through
the hole again. I got up, pulled up my pants and opened my door where my
father was standing just outside of my stall, apparently having watched all
through the crack.

He didn't say anything but just chuckled to himself and shook his head.
Silently, he pointed to the sinks and I went to the nearest one. He stepped
up next to me and quickly ripped off a paper towel to wipe off the heaviest,
most apparent splats of semen before someone might have come in. There were
four or five very long streaks of semen, though, shot on my shirt and right
sleeve. We wiped it best we could but my dad shook his head, seemingly
letting me know he didn't think those stains would ever come out. I washed
my hands while my dad - truly - just combed the man's cum which had hit my
head some, into my hair.

I was thrilled and all ready to leave. But my dad decided to again wash his
hands...and then again before slapping on the air blower. He was interested
in better seeing whoever was in that stall that had done that to me.

As we stood before the mirror, my dad purposefully dawdling, the man who was
in the stall and who apparently had been, um, stalling, waiting for
"whomever" (us) to exit, must have finally needed to get going. First, we
heard a belt buckle clunk and then the rustling of trousers. Then another
long pause as he waited some more. Then, the flush of his toilet. Then
another long delay.

Then suddenly he came out of his stall. He walked up to far sink, making no
eye contact with us. He was even taller than my dad's 6'1". I looked at him
in the mirror as he quickly soaped his large hands and then I looked at his
pants. His yellow and blue striped pants. He never acknowledged us in the
slightest as he washed his hands. And we left while he dried his hands.

Outside, as we passed the Beauty Salon again, stood his wife with three
shopping bags and their baby in its stroller. My dad and I walked right
passed them but almost immediately, the very moment she saw her husband
re-appear, heard her say, in a rather exasperated tone, "Where have you
been? Do you know I have been wandering all over looking for you?"

Not even looking back at them, I could hear the man say in an equally
exasperated tone, "I was checking out socks and then had to go to the
bathroom...IS THAT ALRIGHT??!"


+                     +                         +                   +



Oakbrook Mall, Oakbrook, Illinois (age 13, "Chickenhawks Pick the Boner
Clean"):


In the Spring of the seventh grade, I "turned" thirteen. I was suddenly an
"official" teenager - and made loads of thick, fresh sperm to prove it.

By that age, I had received my Confirmation at Church, won a couple of
ribbons for "Scholarship", was on my junior high's football and swim
teams... and had a really big dick. Yeah, by twelve or thirteen, I pretty
much had the dick I have today - just a tad under eight inches (7.79 inches
for those into "detail").

Actually, at eleven "puberty" hit me (...hard and in the night). Maybe it
was just "nature" or maybe all the sucking my dick had received by strangers
throughout my childhood, but I "matured" down there fairly early.

By age eleven, in fact, I was one of those kids who swung meat that turned
men's heads. I recall being at a grade school swimming competition, in my
blue Speedo, and, for the first time, realizing that my bulge was drawing
more attention than my qualifying times. To be honest, I don't think I even
should have placed on my school's swim team except for the notion that my
gym teacher wanted to keep me around so he had a piece of big-dicked chicken
he could ogle from the side of the pool.

So, by the time I was thirteen, oh, I may have measured in at a centimeter
smaller than I am now as an adult, but inside my Speedo I packed a whollop
of a piece of meat - especially for a seventh grader.

And, yeah, I had a lot of fun with it (as did a whole lot of men).

My parents were going through their divorce at the time and so they thought
it best I live with my mother's sister for part of the summer. She had a
large, fairly luxurious condo in Oakbrook Terrace, which abutted Oakbrook,
Illinois. The best part of her condo was that it was located just a mile or
so from Oakbrook Mall.

My aunt was a professional woman - and no, I don't mean hooker. She worked
for a major US corporation and although based in Chicago, traveled often
throughout the week. But, still, my mom, for some reason, wanted me to spend
the two months just after school let out, June and July with Aunt Jessica.
(I returned "home" in August to stay with my dad as my mom left for London -
another long story).

So about a week after I got out of the seventh grade, my mom dropped me off
at my Aunt Jessica's. I had my own room, she had two cats and really big
television. It was great. The first night I was there, my mom stayed for
dinner where my aunt was upfront and told her that she had to go to Orlando
for three days. It was her work and that's just the way it was. My mom was
okay with it and made sure I knew how to work the locks and security codes
and reminded me endless not to accidentally burn down my aunt's complex (I
suppose I could have done it "purposefully", just not "accidentally").

I was thirteen but knew my way around condo living and being on my own so I
was rather looking forward to the freedom. In fact, I was chomping at the
bit to see my aunt drive off to O'Hare.

Two days into it, my aunt left at six in the morning for her Orlando
conference. I got up to say "bye". The second she left the condo, I had a
raging boner. I was thirteen and free for an entire seventy-two-plus hours!

And I knew Oakbrook Mall was just down Butterfield Road/22nd Street. I knew
it already but my aunt also encouraged me to use the mall if I got bored.
"You can take in a movie or grab a bite there, don't forget", she said. My
parents left me a load of cash for the summer so I knew I wanted to buy some
clothes and ...check out all of the men's rooms.

That same day she left, I knew I wanted, knew I'd have, some sex with men. I
couldn't even wait to head to the mall. I took a shower and like a caged
animal waited anxiously to go. In fact, I recall calling the Marshall Fields
there to ask when they opened. There wasn't even an answer at the
switchboard for my first two hours of frustrated calling (I had this boner I
was playing with the whole morning). Finally they answered at 10 a.m. and I
got so excited. As I pulled on a plain white t-shirt, my boner was actually
tenting my sweat shorts that were emblazoned with the name of my junior high
on them.

I didn't have a car. Couldn't have used a car if I had one. My aunt left me
the number of a cab company but I didn't want to wait an hour for a suburban
taxi to arrive. So since I had my high tops on anyway, I just hoofed it to
the Oakbrook Mall.

It was a really easy walk, except for crossing a couple of really wide
intersections. I was glad my t-shirt hung long over my crotch because I
think I had a raging hardon the entire route (hey, I was thirteen!). I'm
sure some man in a car stopped at an intersection had to have noticed. And
when I saw the mall, I think it throbbed even harder.

I had been to Oakbrook Mall before but never alone. So I wasn't exactly sure
where to go or what to do first. I did know enough, even though I had just
become thirteen, that discretion was the better part of cruising...or
valor... or something like that. So I didn't "race" to the nearest public
toilets groping my boner or anything like that. I knew to be "nonchalant" in
my approach.

And fortunately, since schools were out for the summer, it was really easy
for me to be at the mall, especially all alone. It's harder during the
school year for a kid to go unnoticed by salespersons. At 10 a.m. on a
"school day", well, a kid stands out more. He looks like he's playing
"hooky" (which, um, when considering what men have him doing in the toilets,
he sort of IS!).

But I breathed the Springtime air confidently knowing I had every "right" to
spend my day there alone at the mall.

I went into the Marshall Fields because it was the first building I came up
to after crossing the paved lakebed of a parking lot. The air conditioning
felt great after a mile's walk. I "nonchalantly" perused handbags and
scarves (maybe I was shopping for my mom - ya never know - hey, let the
saleswoman think anything she likes).

I didn't know where a men's room was so I went to the Directory next to the
escalators. I pretended to look for "Young Mens" but was scanning the list
for T-ROOM!

The store wasn't all that busy, it being early and a weekday. I
"nonchalantly" rode up the escalator and got slightly "lost" as I tried hard
not to look too obvious in my search for the men's room. I knew I had to
find it on my own "nonchalantly" and not ask an employee.

I must have gone around in a circle twice and then suddenly I saw it. I
wondered how I had missed it the first two passes. Maybe it was all the
glass and glittering of the Fine China Department that caused me to miss it.
Or maybe I wasn't expecting a men's room to be located in Fine China.

But there it was. Down a short corridor, which led to a stock room
apparently. The minute I went to open the door to the men's room, I was
startled to find a man in a sport coat right behind me. Literally right
behind me - like "where did HE even come from"?!

He was so right behind me that he actually reached around and above me as he
pushed the door open, "After you", he said.

Even at the time I thought he really could have gone first or waited for me
to go first. It was almost as if we entered the doorway at the same time
(which at the time, naively, I figured was rather unnecessary).

To this day I recall his sport jacket. Even for the late 70s, it was rather
loud. Some "Bi-Centennial" red, white and blue plaid number which probably
was quite chic at that MOMENT - on a male model in GQ.

We went in together and he nearly raced to the stalls. There were three
across from four or so sinks. He took the middle stall, which had been the
only one vacant. I remember cursing him under my breath a bit as he "beat"
me to the one available stall (and the middle one at that)!

There were two urinals and a large mirror mounted alone to a wall. No one
else was in the place except for the three unknown gents in the three
stalls. I didn't know where to go or what to do so I peed at a urinal,
washed my hands, combed my hair a million times. And it became obvious none
of the three were planning to leave. But none seemed to be "doing" anything
either (judging from watching their six feet reflected in the big mirror).

So, I left!

I went down the escalators and out to the mall, which was in "outdoor" style
mall. I walked the broadly covered sidewalks, went into another store,
looked at some jewelry in a window. I was about to go into the Sears store
across the mall, which I remembered had a fun men's room. But just as I was
about to go into the Sears, two policemen went in. Again, they came out of
nowhere and happened to cross my path to the double doors. They didn't even
see me, and I have no idea if they were on a call or just on a shopping
break. But I figured it might not be the "best" time to start cruising the
bathrooms there.

So I pivoted on my heels and headed back to Marshall Fields. I figured that
since about a half an hour had passed, those three men (or at least one)
should be "done" and gone.

But I sort of resented the fact I now had to re-enter Fields and again try
to act all "nonchalant" about returning to Fine China. I mean, it might have
seemed easier if I were a forty or fifty year old man like those in the
restroom - but a thirteen-year-old kid in sweat shorts and high tops??
("Yeah, I came to look at that Lalique vase...for my mom...again.").

But the store was still rather quiet and I went completely unnoticed, which
surprised me - not even a salesperson around in the Fine China department. I
went right into the same men's room again and all three stalls were...still
occupied! "What is this???", I thought.

I pretended to pee at a urinal and then washed my hands (this is in the days
before I "learned" I could just peep into a stall and watch men masturbate,
of course - in fact, this is the day I indeed learned that little joy of
t-rooming). I looked at the reflected feet and saw they were all the same
shoes (or if not, really close). Black oxfords, brown oxfords...business dad
shoes all).

But this time, as I looked in the mirror, I saw that one man, in the stall
next to the wall, stood up and was peeking over the top of his stall. Like
who wouldn't notice a balding head rising like a periscope?

He saw me and then flushed his toilet. I heard him buckle up fast and then
he opened his door. He smiled at me and said "Hi" as he stepped up to a
sink. I nodded and quickly darted into his empty stall (before some other
middle-aged businessman beat me to the punch again).

I wiped the toilet seat with toilet paper, and then pulled down my school
sweat shorts (I didn't wear any underwear that day for "convenience"). I sat
down and almost immediately the shoe to my left started tapping. His tap was
quite deliberate- slow and obvious. I didn't know a lot about that "signal"
but figured its not what your average poo-er does.

He tapped again and again, and each time edged his foot closer to my side of
the partition. Then I knew he was a man into sex with strangers. And other
than my high tops, he didn't even know who he was cruising.

I tapped back and then he suddenly, startling me a bit, leaned forward and
looked beneath the partition! He sat back and tapped harder and then his
right black dress shoe actually bumped the side of my left sneaker. That was
no accidental toe-cramp I figured.

I leaned forward, figuring tit for tat (what's good for the hawk is good for
the chicken or whatever) and looked in at him. I saw the sport coat first -
draped over his toilet paper dispenser. Yeah, THAT sport coat. Then I looked
at him. His dress slacks were at his ankles, his legs spread really, really
wide as he smiled, almost grinned, as he beat off quite "enthusiastically".
He had his tie flipped over his shoulder and was just going hog-crazy having
t-room fun. I looked beyond his feet and saw another pair of shoes of
another man in that third stall. I could see by the shadow that that man was
also leaning forward to peep under his partition.

As I was leaning forward, I failed to notice that someone was peeping in on
me through the crack in my stall's door. I sat up quickly, sort of scared
but could see through the separation that whomever was looking was also
squeezing his crotch quite openly and liberally - clearly wanting me to see.
I looked but just couldn't tell what he looked like other than he was tall
and not fat (hey, what else is required sometimes, right?). I hadn't heard
anyone else come in. I sat there and stopped "cruising" the man in the next
stall as I tried to figure out how to negotiate what it was this other man
was doing or wanting. His head kept lifting as if trying to tell me to stand
up. "Why would he want me to stand up?", I wondered. I mean especially since
so many men wanted me to blow them.

He kept looking toward the lock of my door as he groped himself  - quite
lewdly, I must say. I thought he was sort of "interrupting" my being cruised
by the other man so, this is going to sound INCREDULOUS, but I almost wished
the man outside my stall would go away. I just wasn't clear (yet) on what he
wanted.

The sport jacket man then suddenly kneels and slides his loins under the
partition. Now I have this adult man's cock bouncing around wanting me to
touch it - or suck it - as the tall man outside my door is watching. I sat
there and sat there - leaving them both hanging when suddenly the man
outside my door (maybe the "take-charge dad" in him kicking in), says aloud
and in quite a "dad-like" open voice, "Un...lock... your... door."

Ohhhhhhhh, THAT'S what he'd wanted.

Instead, being the bad seventh-going-into-eighth grader that I was, I leaned
back, spread my young thighs wider and wagged my big boner at the man. I let
him get a good look at my big, smooth scrotum as I made it bounce some as I
jerked and showed off.

That made the man press his forehead against the metal door to look in
better. He was wildly groping himself through his slacks as he watched. I
could hear his breathing ("panting's" more like it) as he watched.

I think the sport jacket man must have wondered what was going on as he
knelt there offering his married penis to me. He got up off the meticulously
clean tiled floor and sat down on his toilet again. But he was curious and
leaned forward again. This time, he quite obviously looked beneath the
partition, his head coming almost fully under the metal separation. I let
him look too.

I sat there and let the two men watch me, a thirteen-year-old boy, a very
horny thirteen-year-old boy, openly masturbate in a men's room stall.
Personally, I was loving it. Heck, I probably wasn't even born yet when
either of these two lecherous gawkers were in their mid-thirties!!

The sport jacket man just said "Yeah!" as he watched from his rather awkward
position. I sat there and continued to slowly stroke the full length of my
"kid with man-sized boner". Precum was drooling down my shaft making the
little sounds that sound, oh, so nasty in a public toilet.

The man outside the door, forehead still pressed to the metal again said,
this time in frustrated, short breaths, "UN...LAAHH...K...YUR...DOHRR".

Of course, I didn't. Instead I sat there and spread my young, wiry thighs
wider and lifted up my t-shirt, letting the men see my smooth as a whistle
junior high six-pack. I ran my left hand across them as I milked my big dick
with my right hand.

The sport jacket man had it a little easier because he had "access" to
touching me. I saw him - or his shadow rather - switch positions where he
sat and suddenly I felt his right hand grasp my calf. And up it went. The
man wanted to feel some young teen meat.

The other man watched, quite annoyed or frustrated, I am sure, as he was
"locked" out. I watched through the crack that he was heavily pawing himself
as he took in the sight of some other man getting a feel of a horny "male
adolescent".

Sport jacket man is a pro obviously at feeling up guys from under a stall.
His hand knows EXACTLY where to go. It feels up my smooth, lithe leg and
then under my kneecap. From there it "wanders" up my inner thigh but then
"hit" the toilet bowl. He can't stretch to get to the good stuff - the kid
cock he's wanting to squeeze so bad.

So I scoot forward a little, recline very slightly where I sit, in order to
give the man better access to the "chickenhawk's pot'o'gold". He wastes no
time and his hairy mitt is on my teenage scrotum, gently though thoroughly
feeling them. His hand meanders up and up and up my shaft. Without even
seeing his expression, his arm and hand screamed "thrilled" (Marcel Marceau
would have been proud of him!).

The other man is almost slightly banging his forehead against my door. I
just sit there, my arms at my side letting him watch this other man's hand
have the "touchy-feely" experience of his life.

I pull up my t-shirt more to let the man see my nicely developing pecs. I
even make a muscle to show him my new, bulgy biceps. The whole while this
sport jacket perv is luxuriating on running his nasty hand up and down my
teen-hard cock.

The sport jacket man then begins to do that "tug" - you know, the "lemme
suck your cock tug". He's tugging on my big dick like it's a hose in his
backyard.

That's when I shifted gears. As if surprising him, I leaned forward and
pulled open the latch on the stall door. The man outside the door almost
fell in. He wasn't expecting me to do that - expecting probably that I'd
never do that.

But I did.

So this tall, good looking, slightly balding, middle-aged, professional
(lots of doctors and bankers in Oakbrook) man with a United Way pin on the
lapel of his suit jacket and gold ring on his finger, suddenly finds himself
face-to-face with a hung teenager he's about to commit "lewd" acts with in a
public toilet. Yeah, now that he was "in", he was speechless.

What I saw in front of me was the huge tent he was making - that sort so big
and so hard it was actually straining the fabric of his suit trousers. (I
didn't know that they made trouser-flys with pleats). He wanted spontaneous
"I did not plan on this happening today when I darted out of the office at
10:45 a.m. for a quickie at Fields" sex with a thirteen-year-old. And I
wanted sex with him. So this mall men's room thing worked out perfectly for
all of us.

I reached and squuuuuuezed his rock solid tenter as he leaned in and went
right for the junior high boner. He wasn't going to waste any more time. He
milked and pumped my cock some, cupped my nuts, then told me to lean back
again. I did, my erection sticking up past my navel waiting.

He unzipped and pulled out his rather impressive erection. Even as a kid I
wondered why these men's wives were so lame at taking care of such handsome
husbands. (And when you know what other kids' dads have in their pants, it
really makes peer friendships nearly impossible. LOL).

I go to reach for him again but he puts my hands to my sides and tells me,
"No, just stay like that...just like that."

So I sit there, legs spread, my boner throbbing and beating on my tight abs,
my t-shirt up above my pecs. And he's standing there beating off watching
me. Like I was some "living" exhibition - some teen stud for men to beat off
to or something.

He's masturbating, I'm watching this married middle-aged business type
masturbating as he's looking at my face, my torso, my throbbing and swaying
boner. He's like getting off big time to an adolescent kid's physique.

Sport jacket man is now standing on his toilet (unless he stood and was
seven-foot-seven) looking over the top of the partition. He's muttering
"Yeah...so beautiful...hot...", as he's now watching the other man
masturbate to my teen flesh.

The man standing in front of me steps forward a bit and says, "Kid, you're
so fucking perfect...this is so fuckin..." and with that he ejaculated and
aims his shots directly at my dick, nuts and belly button. I feel the hot
splatter of his fucksauce as it hits like splats of hot rain on my sex
organs.

But he ain't done. Immediately, he crouches and starts giving me an
incredible blowjob. He grips my slender hips as I sit there and he swallows
me whole. His throat is actually squeezing and milking me as he does the
"chickenhawk gobble".

And as he's gobbling down on my teen testicles and shaft, he's slurping up
his own semen. He's eating his own breeder protein as he's licking and
chowing down on some big-dicked junior high studlet (if I do say so myself),
who is more than likely ten years younger than his own kids.

Sport jacket man is watching and obviously masturbating from his perched
position. Again he's urging the man on, "Yeah, do that...yeah, give that boy
what he needs!"

And the man is - boy is he ever. I am leaning back watching the top of his
head as he "molests" my under-aged genitalia with his tongue and throat. I
recall thinking, "Man, if this is "molestation", they oughta bottle it and
sell it in every middle school boy's locker room!"

Now I'm going to blow and the man knows it. He can probably feel my body
growing tenser, my cock getting thicker and harder. He doesn't pull back for
a second. He keeps down there sucking and sucking deep. His rough chin is
actually slapping against my smooth nuts as he's going for the "chickenhawk
feed" inside my thirteen-year-old nuts.

I grip the man's skull as I buck into him a couple of times, letting him
know a teenager is about to shoot sperm into his mouth. He gobbles up my
stuff as fast as my young nuts can squirt up the stuff! He did not miss a
drop...not one single sperm cell!

He continues to suckle on my shaft like a man who didn't ever want to go
home. I almost had to pull his balding head off my still rock hard cock. I
think he wanted to go for a second load but I was a little nervous now. We
were in a mall john after all.

He seemed to regain his senses as he, still crouching, looked into my face
and said, "That was beautiful" and he gave me this deeply passionate, french
kiss. He then stood up and joked, "My knees ain't what they used to be." I
smiled not much understanding the mild arthritis of a married, middle aged,
chickenhawk with my semen on his breath.

He stood at my open door as now did sport jacket man who seeing his
opportunity and figured that "he was next" I guess.

Without even acknowledging me really, sport jacket man come into the stall,
gets on his  knees and picked up sucking on my boner where the other man had
left off. I suppose he figured that if the other man wasn't going to get my
second load, he would! He was ravenous in his approach. Sucking and pumping
his head up and down as he sucked himself some big jail bait boner.

The other man stood there obviously wanting to continue watching. He
readjusted his shirt and tie a bit and checked his fly, all the while
watching a second man slobber his mouth all over my teen cock and up my
stomach and chest.

He watched and smiled, almost like a dad proud to see that his kid shares
his hunky little body with lots of men in the public toilets. He watched and
groped his crotch some more. I'm sure he was getting another erection as he
watched me being serviced by another "spontaneous chickenhawk".

I groaned and groaned again as the sport jacket man got me to bust my second
nut within five minutes. I shot as much sperm into his mouth as I had into
the other man ...but any sperm, a single sperm, out of an eighth-grader
seems as though it would satisfy men in the toilets.

The sport jacket man pulls the tight grip of his lips off my very wet boner
with a loud "smacking" sound. It was almost funny and made all three of us
chuckle. Sport jacket man, sort of embarrassed...but NOT (if you know what I
mean) says, "That was GOOOOD! Teen jizz shot down my throat...good stuff!"
he slaps the top of my thighs as a "good load, stud" thanks and stands up.
His dick is thick, uncut and jutting out of his fly. I don't think he
thought for a second this little studlet he sucked off was a cocksucker
himself. He almost flinched when I grasped his daddy erection silently
offering to suck it for him. He most happily...most "thrill-ed-ly" obliged.
What he lacked in sport jacket taste, he more than made up in the taste of
his cock. I showed him how a thirteen-year-old boy could suck dad cock and
his knees gave out when he screwed past my uvula. He held my head rather
lovingly as he watched his thick cock go in and out of my clamped lips.

The other man was also surprised to see this hung, athletic, "straight"
looking young teen go for hairy man cock. Most men figure that kids that age
just don't want their married, forty-something penises in their mouth. But
they hadn't all met me (DAMN IT!)

The man who blew me first pressed into the stall again, along side sport
jacket man. His tenter was back (It's Baaaaaaaaaack!). He didn't assume
anything, just stood there along side the other man with his bulging crotch
two-inches from my left cheek. He let me decide.

And of course, I decided to grope and squeeze his tenter (as I had started
to do originally). He then quickly unzips and sticks his dadcock into my
face, its big head butting against the shaft of sport jacket man. I go back
and forth and back and forth between the two of them. The man tries to push
his cock into my mouth as I got sport jacket man in there. I open wider and
the man is trying to like "teach" me how to go about doing it. He succeeds
sort of and I have the heads of both their large penises in my mouth for
moments at time.

But its enough for them and literally within twenty-seconds of one another
the men flood my oral cavity in their paternity pudding. All this thick,
white goo cums shooting out of their cockheads and right into my "just out
of the seventh grade" mouth. I don't bat an eye as I had a bucket of
daddymilk shot into my mouth since I was a little kid. I think the fact I
didn't gag or even cough slightly as the loads of two strangers' scrotums
were unloaded into my mouth surprised them. Well, it surprised the one man -
while sport jacket man seemed lost elsewhere in his thoughts.

As they pulled out, sport jacket man waltzed back into the doorway of his
stall, acting more like he was in a sex club than a mall restroom as he
casually stuffed his dick back into his slacks and caught his breath. The
other man stood just inside my stall at the door as he tucked his big,
flaccid penis back into his suit trousers. He smiled as I leaned back on the
toilet again waiting for him to leave. He asked, "You okay?"

I nodded and said, "Sure, yeah".

"Good", he said. "Because you do that well...you're beautiful, just
beautiful."

Sport jacket man heard him and added, "He is, isn't he?"

"Fucking perfect", the other man said as his eyes scanned my torso again.
"Do me a favor", he said.

I looked at him and replied, "Sure. What?"

"Stay here as long as you can and give other men the same privilege, ok?",
he answered.

I must have given a look like I didn't quite understand.

"Share that beautiful cock of yours with other men who come in here today,
okay? You going to do that?", he asked.

"I guess", I replied.

"Don't let him get caught though", sport jacket man jumped in to say. "Don't
get caught though, kid. Thanks!", he said as he left.

"Yeah, don't get caught", the other man said. "But you have something a
whole lot of men want a piece of...give it to them, okay?"

"Sure", I said.

"Good boy", he replied with a smile. "I knew you were that kind of boy.
Fuckin' look at that dick of yours...", he said as he couldn't help but
reach in and give my boner a few more tugs. As he did, he leaned into my ear
and asked, "You going to be here again?"

I shrugged and said, "I think so."

"When? When?", he whispered into my ear as he almost nibbled at it. "I can
be here Wednesday ...same time. How 'bout you?"

It was Monday and my aunt wouldn't be back until Thursday night so I agreed.

"Gooood, gooood boy", he whispered and he reached down again to cup and heft
my smooth scrotum. "You can make loads more I bet, huh?"

I got embarrassed and shrugged.

"Oh, yeah, boys your age can shoot and keep on shooting, right?", he
whispered.

I muttered, "I dunno...I guess."

"Promise you'll give it away to other men in here", he said, "Want to
promise me?"

I nodded and he was satisfied.

He stood up tall again and wrote on a blank piece of paper he pulled out of
his suit jacket. "10:30 Wed"

He handed it to me and asked if I'd need a ride to get there.

I told him no and he said, "I can pick you up anywhere if you need one."

I shook my head.

He then told me to lean back again and lift up my shirt all the way again.
He shook his head as he took in the sight. "I might bring my Polaroid on
Wednesday. Is that okay?"

I nodded and smiled.

He then gripped his crotch again as though to say "bye" before he walked
away. I leaned and locked my door again.

I was so turned on, I started to masturbate some more. I looked down under
the partiton because I knew there had been a third man in there, a man in
brown dress shoes. And he was still in that third stall.

I sat back and then heard him get up very quietly, open his door and quickly
take the middle stall. He obviously hadn't even pulled up his slacks as he
"relocated" himself.

Immediately he kneels and pushes his hips beneath the partition. Not a word
from him, just there it was - a rock hard, very erect, very straight
six-inch cock. I leaned down and sucked him for just a couple of seconds.

Maybe he was just testing to see if I'd play with a third man (boy, some
suburban men are sweetly na‹ve), because suddenly he stands up, belt buckle
clunking on the tile and he comes out of his stall and around a bit to peep
through that same crack in my stall door. I look down the length of the door
jamb hinge line and see him masturbating as he's looking in to see "who" all
the commotion was about earlier.

"Can I come in?"", he nervously, very nervously, whispers.

I answer by unlocking my stall door.

"Oh my god", this guy whispered. "Oh my god..."

I sit there jerking my boner as I look at him jerking his. He's younger than
the other two men, maybe thirty, maybe even late-twenties. He was very
swarthy, could have been Sicilian, maybe Irani, Iraqi, maybe Greek...maybe
Pakastani...maybe...?

He's wearing a "Seaworld" sweatshirt and has very muscular, powerful legs.

And he's masturbating looking at me as he again says, "Oh my god..."

I really thought he was too nervous and that he was going to scram. Maybe a
man just in over his head, you know? I mean, sure, he was cruising for some
t-room sex with random strangers...but he wasn't necessarily expecting the
dude in the last stall to be a big-dicked thirteen-year-old. The sight of me
probably shocked him (yet ever notice how even when in "shock" that hand of
theirs keeps on moving?).

I figure he might just be collecting some "mental pictures" for later (and
LIFETIME) jerk off sessions...but he's gunna flee.

Instead, his next very nervously whispered words are (almost verbatim), "You
wanna get a motel room? I'll get a motel room for us...you wanna go to a
motel? God, this is great!"

He didn't approach me (doth mere mortal man approach the young Adonis? LOL).
He looked too sacred to approach me, in fact. Maybe it was because I was
"men's correction" bait easily half his age...or maybe because my dick was
bouncing and throbbing two inches longer than his, who knows, but he just
hovered at the door jerking off.

I waved him to come in and he shuffled over toward me, his belt buckle
clunking the entire way. I gripped his rock hard cock and I thought he'd
keel over. He was almost shuddering in pedophilic thrill. He motioned for me
to stand up.

As we stood facing each other, I lifted his Seaworld sweatshirt slightly
with one hand as I masturbated the man with my other hand. He was
extraordinarily hirsute - dark thick hair all over his pubes, all over his
taut, trim, rock solid lower abdomen and all across his stomach up to great
muscled pecs thick in chest hair.

"I can get us a motel room", he again said. "I can get one.  I have some
cash on me, I can get one for us."

I declined. I saw nothing really wrong with this mall stall for a quickie.

"Come on", he pressed. "Pleeeeease? Oh, I want to do stuff to your
body...come on..."

I again declined. I leaned down and sucked his cock. His kneecaps braced as
he shuddered some more. "Oh fuuuuuuuck, oh, my god!", he breathlessly
exclaimed as he gripped the nape of my neck. He fucked his cock into my
mouth a few times and then pulled me off.

"I can get a motel room", he said. "Or even a nice hotel room for you. I can
get us a room at the Stouffer's - its just across the parking lot."

I smiled and again shook my head as I ran both my teen hands up under his
sweatshirt to caress his rockhard and hairy stomach up to his very thick mat
of chest hair. He noticed me reading his sweatshirt and he asked, "Your
folks ever take you there?"

I shook my head.

"A kid like you would have fun there. What are you?", he whispered. "Like...
fifteen?", he asked, very tentatively fudging his guess, obviously trying
not to admit to himself he was playing with a much younger junior high dick.

"Thirteen", I said plainly as I felt up his torso and then dropped my hand
down to his rigid cock, which stuck upward at a forty-five degree angle.

"Oh my god", he again started to say, although he probably already figured
that. "You're just thirteen? Oh god...let me get us a motel room, huh?
Nobody has to know."

I again declined, "No, I better not."

"You have a big cock for thirteen", he whispered as he stroked it and stared
into my eyes. "Fucking big thirteen-year-old cock...thirteen...oh my god..."

I again leaned forward and sucked his cock. I licked his shaft, tasting a
little salty but he smelled of soap, and then down to his very hairy
scrotum. He braced his powerful, hairy, runner'' thighs as he obvious must
have been trying not to cum too quickly. I looked up and he was looking up
toward the ceiling, his mouth open and his eyes almost looking glazed over.
For a second I wondered if he was in ecstasy or going into a diabetic
seizure.

It was apparently ecstasy because he pulled back and then took me by my
arms, pulling me to my feet. He looked directly into my eyes - it was quite
intense - and then pulled me to him and kissed me, his heavy "11 a.m. 5
o'clock shadow" feeling all sexy and scratchy against my face. He started
making out with me in my stall, pressing into me, which forced my back to
press into the partition. He started making out with me like he was with his
girlfriend at a rodeo or something.

As he kissed me, his hand returned to my cock. He gripped it, as his strong
body kept me pinned to the wall. Through his open mouth kiss, he mumbled,
"You have a big cock, kid." He was aggressively milking it up and down and
then let his hand slid down to my nuts and then under, trying to poke a
finger into the crack of my smooth buttcheeks.

"Lemme get a motel room", he said. "I wanna play with your body...let you
play with mine."

I shook my head as he continued to kiss my mouth and jawline. "Aw, you don't
have to be afraid...I wouldn't hurt you or anything like that...but,
okay...", he reluctantly mumbled as he pulled up my t-shirt and lewdly felt
me up, running his hands along my chest and stomach, still keeping me pinned
to the metal partition wall.

But at least he finally seemed to get the message that this teen boy wasn't
going to any motel with him. After all, I was there to have restroom
sex...not motel sex. And to a t-roomer, no other explanation is even
necessary. And, besides, for a horny kid having sex with strangers, there's
an odd sense of "safety" in a mall men's room.

The hirsute, athletic man kinda grabbed the hair on the back of my head and
looked right into my eyes, "Those other men...before...they were sucking
you, right?"

I smiled and said, "Yeah".

"And you gave them both a load of cum, right?", he asked.

I nodded.

"Cool", he muttered. "Bet they loved that, huh?"

"I guess", I answered.

"Sucking big teenage cock...I bet they did. You like getting bjs, I
bet...kid like you has to like getting bjs, right?", he replied.

My cock, so hard it was pointing straight up and passed my navel gave this
stranger his answer. He gripped it firmly and asked, "You want another one?
You can shoot another load I bet."

I shrugged a bit, but my smile told him that I was certain I could.

"Yeah, boys your age can shoot more", he said. "You can shoot cum into
mouths all day I bet, right? Want to shoot some more in my mouth?" With
that, he squatted down and started sucking my dick. He licked just the head
as he looked up into my eyes and then suddenly went all the way down to my
nuts. From there, he started sucking like a maniac. His hands firmly gripped
my small, smooth buttcheeks. He didn't want me going anywhere apparently. He
technique was to basically slobber down on my thirteen-year-old boner. He
was all ravenous letch when it came to blowing a kid -he probably never did
that before.

He stopped sucking for a moment, my dick all shiny in this man's saliva as
it bounced against his chin. He said, "Man, you're fucking big...I never
sucked off a kid before", he said with a nervous breathlessness.

He didn't really need to tell me that - his overly enthusiastic suckjob
demonstrated that fact.

He stroked my wet cock a few times, admiring it. "I never did it with anyone
near your age", he admitted quietly. "I didn't know kids your age were so
big...", he said before putting his mouth back on my throbbing boner.

He sucked and sucked, feeling my nuts as he did so. His right hand ran up my
stomach and rubbed my hairless abs as he sucked. After just a few minutes I
felt a third delivery of semen cumming.

I gripped his thick head of hair and just let it go. I blew my junior high
babysauce into this third man. I was like in heaven, all drained and knowing
I had fed a third adult stranger within just twenty or so minutes. I sort of
felt, like he said, as if I could feed mouths all day. Nothing makes a kid
feel like the little studlet than a bunch of men hungry for his big boner
and fresh, new-to-the-planet puddin'!

He swallowed and swallowed then stood up. "Oh my god", he said, some of my
thick semen actually hanging off his lower lip, "Man, I just ate a
thirteen-year-old's cum...fucking hot." He beat off and immediately shot his
load onto the wall beside me.

He shuddered sort of with his eyes shut as he ejaculated. Then, after he
finished, he hardly said goodbye as he shuffled back to his stall, pulled up
his pants and left in a big hurry.

I closed my stall door again and read a very dirty "graffiti" discreetly
written on the backside of the stainless steel toilet paper holder. It was
some businessman's pen writing about how he wanted to find three men who'd
fuck his wife. I sat there slowly stroking waiting for another stranger to
come in.

What amazed me was that I spent four hours in that restroom without one real
interruption or anyone noticing. I had sex with six more men and left. I was
nervous when it came to exiting, of course (you just NEVER quite know). But
as I left the men's room, again, no one was even around. One older woman was
looking at crystal candlesticks in the Fine China department and that was
about it.

I "nonchalantly" made my way to the escalator, went down, left the store
(Big-dicked slut kid has left the building!") and hightailed it across the
expansive parking lot.

And you bet, I was back every day. Even "expanded" my sex turf to include
the two t-rooms at Sears. It was a very (re)productive summer vacation. To
this day, I'm a "big shopper".



+                  +                    +                      +

Oakbrook Mall, Oakbrook, Illinois (age 10, "Doing the Lawn Mower Dads")

It's understandable that many men who will drill a big, whopping gloryhole
between two stalls in a public rest room are expecting, (or not even giving
it much thought), that it's only "users" will be other men like themselves
looking for anonymous quickies. Most men, when punching out a hole for
cocks, hardly consider the "broader community" as they prep a t-room for
heavy blowjob service. And, let's be reasonable, their "notion", that
they're making themselves an exclusive "man hole", only works if one is
drilling that gloryhole at a 'hard hats-only' construction site or maybe
within the inner sanctums of the U. S. Senate Building.

But its rather "charmingly naive" of those men who think (or aren't
thinking), when they're drilling a gloryhole at, say, a shopping mall (and
at a SEARS store at that!), that it will only be like-minded adult men who
will "happen upon" the newly created buddy suck hole they've provided to the
community.

But, of course, as we guys all know, they'd be wrong. Every guy, big or
lil', able to go into that public men's room will come (so to speak) across
that gloryhole!

Yup, I was just ten-years-old when I discovered (and used) the gloryhole
(and a rather large one at that) which was so-thoughtfully created by some
man between two stalls in the Men's Room on the lower level at the SEARS
store in Oakbrook Mall.

It was in the very large men's room located on the store's "basement" or
"ground" level (as the Sears was erected on a hill, it had different levels
from which one could enter).

The "basement" was basically, how shall we say, the "rugged, manly level" of
the Sears store. Yeah, there's nothing really "glamorous" about any level at
a Sears but the basement level was definitely not "chick territory" (well,
maybe some dykes liked it).

Whereas, the upper levels offered clothing, women's accessories, baths
linens and furniture (where yet another great t-room existed...for another
time), the basement level was, to the best of my recollection, sprawling and
charged with masculine energy. Testosterone coursed through such sections
as...Paint, Hardware (and that didn't include the trade in the t-room), bbq
grills, exercise bikes, major appliances, camping equipment  & sporting
goods (always brings out the big lugs), lawn mowers...and aluminum siding.
Yes, you guessed it, the very second that a "family" came into the store,
'mom and the kids' went up a level while dad remained on the basement level.
Or, if they entered from the first floor, the first thing a dad did was to
ride the escalator down to the "manly-man level".

My dad had a work-related thing "he had to do" in the western suburb of
Hinsdale, a neighboring town to Oakbrook. As it was obviously a good excuse
to get me out of the city for an afternoon, he asked if I wanted to come
along. My mom had to work at the bookstore so she couldn't go but I, of
course, jumped at the chance to spend an entire day with my daddy. We left
early, stopped and ate a late breakfast at McDonalds (hamburgers and sodas
before ten a.m. - especially special because its something my mother would
never, ever have allowed).

It was a beautiful Saturday morning in late Spring. And so, when we got to
Hinsdale, I just sat in the car in the driveway of some big house while my
dad ran in for just five or ten minutes. He needed to drop off some
photographs and 8mm movies. When he returned to the car and was buckling up,
he smiled and asked if I wanted to do a little shopping. He said that he
wanted to look for a new barbecue grill for the terrace. Since we were so
close, he said, we might as well see what they had at the Sears at Oakbrook
Mall.

A short drive later, we were parked in the sea of cars outside the lower
level of Sears. We walked in and the first thing I noticed, still recall to
this day, was the fact it seemed like only men were shopping. And as it was
the basement level, my recollection is most probably 99% correct.

I wandered about with my dad as we first looked through camping gear. My dad
squeezed my hand and said, "I want to take to camping one of these days." We
then weaved through Outdoor Play equipment and then came upon circular saws.

I had no interest in any of it really except for the, (what seemed to me at
the time, at least), handsome daddies all around. As my dad looked at a
Kenmore drill, I was definitely busy crotch-watching. Although they would
not make it to "GQ", there is still something about a suburban dad in plaid
polyester slacks. What men lost in quality, they sure as hell gained in
bulge appeal.

As I was looking at all the men, I spotted some sloppy kid eating what
looked to be caramel corn from a bag. It smelled like caramel corn, at
least. She caught my eye because she was so fat and piggy-looking munching
on the confection like it were cud. Her entire mouth was sticky with brown
goo. I remember thinking it looked like this six-year-old girl had been
eating out her mother's ass or something. She caught me looking at her and
shouted, "Daaaadeeeeee, daaaaaaaaadeeeeeeeeee, a little boy is luukin' at
me, daaaaaaaadeeeeeeee." I continued to look at her because she looked even
stranger as she talked with her mouth full of sweet gloppy gook.

Her father turned around from whatever he'd been doing and although not
handsome, he was rugged and built - really built - like a former college
football player, six-five, all muscle and buzz cut. He was a side of adult
man daddy, for sure! He wore a polo-style shirt and I could see his chest
hairs poking out at top. And he donned these beige "sans-a-belt" type slacks
where his prominent "double-take" crotch looked like it weighed in at
sixteen pounds. He had to have noticed me staring directly between his legs.
He looked at his "ample" piglette and said in an annoyed way, "Mindy, you
want to take this daughter of ours upstairs? She's getting bored down here
by the way she's starting to act."

As he got into a small spat with his wife, with two other kids in tow, I
turned and looked at some other crotches. One man was testing a weight
bench. On his back, as the salesman showed him where the barbells rested,
all I did was to take the opportunity to ogle the man's plump and vulnerably
exposed basket as he laid there with his legs spread. Even at ten, I could
pretty much tell you what a man had in his pants - something about the way a
man's slacks fit him told me a lot.

My dad then took my hand and led me over to the BBQ Grills area, which was
located right next to, and almost intermingled with, the Lawn Mowers area.
Between the two sections, I found myself (most happily) within a "backyard
living" pack of men - most of them suburban dad types over thirty (as would
only be expected).

I openly stared at one very fit, very good-looking man with slightly graying
hair, who kept looking back at me as he flipped switches on a riding lawn
mower. I looked at him and he looked at me...and I looked at him...and he
looked at me and I looked at him...and he looked at his wife...and I looked
at him...and he looked at me...and he looked at his wife and looked at me
again...and I looked at him...

I looked at him as he sat on the riding lawn mower while his wife was
looking at a different one with the salesman. I stared right at the bulge
between the man's spread legs. He noticed and looked down quickly as if
wondering if he had forgotten to zip up or something. When he realized he
was zipped up, it became apparent to him that he knew what he had on his
hands as this little ten-year-old was, obviously, had to be, cruising him
(an amazing discovery when you're a forty-eight-year-old married man, I
imagine).

He got slightly flustered or embarrassed or needlessly scared he might be
caught showing off his crotch to a little boy so he climbed off the machine
and joined his wife, but periodically kept an eye on me.

My dad opened the lid of a third grill. Now I was getting bored and suddenly
had to pee really bad. Well, at least I lied that I had to pee. My dad must
have known about the men's room on the basement level because when I said "I
haveta go...", he immediately pointed to the exact corner where the
restrooms were located. "You go on, I don't have to go", is all he said.
"I'll be here when you get back." Then he continued to look at big BBQ
grills.

Unlike others my age, perhaps, I wasn't the least bit intimidated to "find"
the restroom by myself. In fact, I rather liked going on "adventures" as a
little boy. And quite frankly, some sense of sexual curiosity sent that very
particular wave of adrenaline throughout my small body as I headed to the
farthest corner in the very back of the store. I recall passing "Awings"
(the sort you could buy for your windows and patios).

>From there, the restrooms were down a long hallway. The Ladies Lounge was
closest (I recall wondering why they got a 'Lounge' when we only got a
'Room' when in fact with all the sex in men's rooms, its we would could
really use a lounge). Past the Ladies Lounge was a banque of public
telephones (which always had men on them because, as I later learned, making
a real or even a fake call was the best guise as men hovered around cruising
the men's room). And allllll the way at the very end of the corridor, a dead
end, was the door to the Men's Room.

It was only about noon when I pushed open the heavy door. A stall to one's
right blocked any immediate view into the room. There were perhaps eight
stalls in a row and only two or three urinals all the way into the room. The
urinals were opposite the last two stalls.

I was a little nervous about using a urinal since some were still a bit too
high for me. But at a quick glance it appeared that they were all occupied
anyway (as it was, only two men were at the three urinals. But they were
such big men, not fat, just big, that I couldn't see that one was free until
I went into the urinal at the farthest end opposite them).

I was already sucking off men, strangers, by that age so I had some skill at
negotiating a public restroom. But despite my "precocious experience", I
still, being just ten-years-old, didn't always know exactly what to expect
when in a sexual situation with a new stranger. I didn't always know what
the man wanted, or how forceful he might be or how big some man's cock might
be as he stepped up in front of me to unzip.

But I did know enough as not to take the stall closest to the door. I always
knew how to put myself in the middle of sex.

In fact, when I approached the end stall, I noticed the two men at the
urinals give a very quick look over their shoulders as they stood there
"pissing". In retrospect, we all know what they must have been wondering.
Even if, when it would be quiet, they were standing at the urinals showing
off their dicks to whomever was in an opposite stall, these two men had to
think it more than 'a bit out of the ordinary' that a little kid my age
would have selected to go into one of those particular "cruising" stalls.

As soon as I entered the stall, I spotted this very large hole (could not
have missed it) which had been roughly punched into the metal partition. The
gloryhole was so obvious and large, it was like a window looking directly
into the adjacent stall. How such a hole could remain undetected by
management was beyond me but it remained there for years!
It looked, literally, like someone had used a mini grenade to make it - like
a bomb had blasted through the metal. The edges were then very lovingly
smoothed but I thought it so odd that in a store selling so many excellent
drill bits, that men were reduced to army artillery in order to make
themselves a blowjob hole.

As I had already come to love gloryholes (I was a gloryhole junkie by
seven), I smiled to myself since I was a little boy who loved meeting new
strangers (I know it sounds silly but its true) and closed the door. The
door had a slide lock on it but it kept sliding open. The door remained
closed, only falling open a half an inch, but the lock itself just wouldn't
stay in place. It wasn't any wonder that the man in the next stall had taken
the one he did.

As I stood there, I took some toilet paper to wipe off the seat (my parents
had taught me to be hygienic when around strange, masturbating men). As I
wiped the toilet seat of drops of pee and splats of sperm, I could quite
easily see the man in the next stall peering through the large, six-inch
diameter gloryhole. I couldn't tell much about him except he looked nice
enough.

He looked even more boldly when I started to unbutton my pants. I didn't
really have to pee so I just stood there facing the bowl.  I was always,
from little up, utterly fascinated with public men's rooms. I don't quite
know why, but at the same time, I do know why.

I stood there and let my navy blue pants drop down to my ankles. For some
reason, maybe because I was proud of them - or proud I could bulge some too
in them - I remember wanting to let the man see my brand new "Batman and
Robin" underpants. My mom had just found them at a store downtown and I
thought they were so cool, I'd wear them while I'd watch re-runs on t.v.! In
retrospect, it must have been a rather nasty underpants designer who would
create this pair of white jockey shorts for boys which had a colorful Adam
West and Burt Ward racing across its fly and the words, "WHAM! BAM!" printed
boldly across the butt.

Then I just stood there -all the while, the man seemed to press his eye even
closer to the gloryhole. Very cautiously, nervously even, the man ran the
fingers of his left hand around the perimeter of the large gloryhole. I
remember they were the fingers of his left hand because I could see his
wedding ring. He most likely had no expectation of me doing anything or even
understanding his signal. He must have presumed I was just some little kid
who wandered into the "wrong" stall. Or, maybe, he, like a lot of men,
thought its some kid who is curious but being so young would never "do"
anything (or even know what to "do"). But he understandably "had" to give it
a try. I'm sure most readers would understand that much.

When he saw I had an actual boner in my Batman underpants, he took his
opportunity, He looked in at me more boldly, his face actually coming
through the large gloryhole as his fingers continued to trace the contour of
the hole. He looked nice, rather handsome in a man in his early-50s sort of
way. I stood there not quite sure what move to make but he made it for me.
He started blowing at me, blowing on my little tented bulge. Blowing like he
was trying to whistle or blow bubbles at me or something.

I just stood there as I enjoyed this silly bathroom game. The man blew at me
a couple of more times and then started to lick his lips. He licked and
licked and I almost wondered if he too had eaten the caramel corn sold
outside. I was more used to sucking penises through a gloryhole so I knew
but wasn't really sure what the man wanted me to do. Most men wanted men to
suck them but this man wasn't sending quite that signal.

So I just stood there some more, and pulled up my new t-shirt. It was one of
a series of kid's t- shirt my mom got as a promotional for a children's
collection of classics being promoted at the bookstore. I wore the one for
Robert Louis Stevenson's "Kidnapped", the illustration on the front showing
a big, rough pirate "manhandling" a little boy (yeah, I guess I mighta been
sending out some signals myself that day, as I look back).

At that same time, I noticed that there was a shadow outside my door. No one
came in but this shadow hovered just outside. I turned slightly to look and
could see it was one of the two men who had been standing at the urinals.
The other man seemingly had left. I looked down the crack in the doorjamb
and saw that the man was zipped up and wiping his hands on a paper towel as
he peeped in. He must have been curious as to what I was doing in there but
wanted to have "safe" excuses if someone else walked in (or I was just
peeing and started to scream at some man peeping in on me...like I would
have done that!).

He didn't really do anything but peep and wipe and wipe and wipe and wipe
his hands. While I was twisted to look at the shadowy figure, I felt
something on my bulge. It felt good but startled me for just a second. I
looked down and saw that the man in the next booth had reached his hand, and
his arm almost to his elbow, through the gloryhole. He was gently "fondling"
my little tenter. Very slowly, very gently, but very deliberately he
caressed every centimeter of my boner through the cotton. I was so horny
from this stranger's molestation, that my boner "warped" Batman and made
Robin jump around!

The gloryhole was large enough that the man's arm came through and yet I
could still plainly see his bright hazel eyes fixed on my bulge. I just
stood there enjoying every second of it. The man reached up then and ran his
large hand softly across my smooth tummy and up to my smooth chest. His open
hand was as big as my chest it seemed!

As I stood there, the shadowy man slowly, cautiously, opened the door. I
turned back to smile at him and he just gave me this very nervous, very
strange little smile in return as he kept one foot outside the stall in case
he needed a speedy exit. I turned my body slightly so he could better see
the man fondling me through the gloryhole. The shadowy man was the big
linebacker daddy who had the piglette of a daughter. He didn't do anything
or touch me but I looked down and saw his bulge was huge within his
sans-a-belt slacks. (No hiding in stretchy polyester, that's for sure!).

He just watched, not even groping himself as he did so. He must have been
amazed and shocked to witness the actual men's room molestation of a little
boy, we can probably be certain of that much.

Since he apparently wasn't going to do much more than watch, collecting
imagery for later, perhaps, I took the first move and placed my small hand
on where his hard daddy erection made which looked like an iron pipe had
been stuffed down his trousers leg.

Just reflexively, he jumped back half a step at my touch. I could tell,
almost certify that this was a father who had never had a little boy - ever
- feel his crotch, let alone his rock hard erection. I didn't let go though,
and he took a breath stepping closer to me again. He leaned backwards a
little to look out at the restroom, making sure no one was around as he let
me feel him up thoroughly.

Even though he was keeping watch on the rest of the room, he let his hand
sort of "accidentally" graze my butt through my underpants. His touch became
more insistent and soon I had two men feeling me up - one fondling my tenter
in front; the other cupping and groping my tiny butt. At one point, the
ex-linebacker daddy behind me reached down and slipped his large, rough hand
between my legs, running the back of his hand along my nuts. Then the two
men's hands touched and they both began to lewdly massage my little bulge,
simultaneously rubbing and squeezing the "action" figures of Batman and
Robin. I just swooned. Want to make an ten-year-old boy "swoon", do that to
him with some of your buddies!

The man through the gloryhole then pulled down the front of my jockey
shorts, exposing my nice-sized pricklet (I hate that word, its
so...so..."Internet pedo", you know? But it's a word perverts understand, so
there it is). His fingers gently milked me and then ran under my small nuts.
The ex-linebacker dad ran his hand around to my front and took the
opportunity to stroke my boner a few times. He leaned down over me the way a
teacher leans over a student when helping them figure out which is more like
a 'DOG' - the 'HOUSE'?, the 'CAT'? or the 'WOLF'?

The man in the other stall then tugged and pulled me closer to the large
gloryhole, I shifted and was facing the wall. In a flash, he sucked my
...pricklet...into his wet mouth. He must have been in ecstasy - never
figuring he'd be sucking someone so young that day as he went to Sears to
buy a garden hose or something. His sucking power actually kept me at the
hole, but the other man, cupping my butt, was pressing me into the wall,
keeping me from pulling away. He was actually helping this other man in his
fellating of me. The ex-linebacker daddy reached his big hand into the back
of my underpants and openly groped and squeezed my small smooth buttocks. He
ran a thick middle finger down along my butt crack as his weight kept me
from moving. It didn't take long for me to lose control. I started to have a
dull aching-heaving sensation in my small nutsac and I knew I was having a
dry orgasm within the other man's furiously sucking mouth.

I had to pull out of the mouth since it felt like he didn't want to let go
of his suction on me. I tugged back but couldn't move. The man kept licking
and sucking up and down my ten-year-old genitals before I pulled back with
more force and the man behind me finally got the hint. He let me step back
away from the hole but I was facing the flusher and he took his opportunity.

The ex-linebacker dad shoved his middle finger into my butthole. It hurt but
I bent forward to let him do whatever he wanted to me. His finger went into
me to his palm. Then it seemed he didn't know what to do. The man in the
other stall was still watching and he whispered, "Fuck him...let me see you
fuck him."

Perhaps it was hearing those words that made the ex-linebacker daddy realize
what he was poised to do. Perhaps actually hearing the words "fuck him",
rattled him a bit as he had to face the fact that that would be, indeed, the
next logical thing to do to this little guy in the public toilets. And
perhaps he would have unzipped and fucked his thick cock deeply into
me...had the man through the gloryhole not whispered those words.

But instead, the ex-linebacker daddy withdrew his finger and then his hand
and looked again out to the sinks. He didn't run but he didn't do anything
else to me. He just stood in the opening to my stall.

The man in the other stall though stood up and soon a very long,
perfectly-shaped erection came through the gloryhole. Around the glorious
penis was brown hair with some gray in it (my favorite kind when I was
ten!). I think the other man was shocked when he looked again and saw me
sucking on the precum dripping cockhead of the disembodied boner. I slurped
up the sweet juice as it ran down the man's shaft.

That did the trick or sent the signal...fully...to the ex-linebacker daddy.
As fast as an over-zealous teenager's first time at Miss Ellie's House of
Lovin', the man unzipped his polyester slacks and hauled out a second adult
dad cock for me to suck. I turned to face the wall, which allowed the second
man to step closer as I sucked the big penis through the gloryhole.

The ex-linebacker daddy had a cock that suited his man-sized frame. It was,
let's just say, not a "kid-friendly" piece of meat. It was thick as a man's
wrist, veiny, uncut and a solid seven incher. He hefted out his nuts and
they were like the size of a hairy Texas grapefruit. A big, breeding MAN was
poking his boner at my smooth cheek as I sucked the other man's penis. I
went back and forth when suddenly the ex-linebacker man started to jerk off
furiously. He bumped his cockhead into the side of my mouth, apparently
telling me to take my lips off the other man and put his in instead.

And good thing I did. Next thing I knew, he pumped a load of milky seed into
my mouth which to this day I can still taste. He held his breath as to
stifle a moan as he ejaculated in this little boy in the Sears bathroom. He
had to thinking, "My kids are pigging on junk food and meanwhile this one's
eating my adult cum...somethin' wrong with that!"

Without a word or even acknowledging me, he stepped back and stuffed his
cock back into his sans-a-belt slacks. He didn't even close my stall door or
wash his hands or anything as he exited. He was "outta there" as they say. I
couldn't reach to close the stall door because as I was sucking, the other
man, realizing I was taking loads, lost his and squirted volley after volley
of copious amounts of very thick, semi-sweet semen into my mouth.

As he pulled his big penis out of the hole, I turned and closed my door. And
just in time because a second later someone else came in and stood at the
urinals. The man in the next stall looked through the hole and then gave me
the "thumbs up" sign before he exited. "THUMBS UP" sign to an ten-year-old
swallowing cum in a Sears men's room....and who was still gulping down his!

The man left his stall and I pulled my underpants down all the way and sat
on the toilet, which was a little tall for me - my shoes barely scraped
along the tiled floor! While I was doing that, I missed the fact that
whoever had been at the urinal dashed over to the empty stall beside me. It
had to have been almost at the exact same time the other man who had sucked
me left because as I looked through the crack in the door, I could see him
still standing at the sinks looking back at the stalls through the large
mirrors.

I sat there a moment and whoever was in the stall now didn't sit down. He
stood there rubbing his crotch for me to see. I tried to look up through the
hole but had to lean to far so all I could see was up to his chest. He was
fit and nicely dressed. But that's all I could really say about him. Oh, and
he was massaging his bulge with his left hand, remembered because of yet
another wedding ring.

I sat there, too young to use all the tricks of gloryholing yet. I doubt I
could have "tapped foot" even if I'd wanted to. And I still didn't quite
understand the purpose of ringing the hole with a finger. I mean, even at
ten, I didn't think that was any subtler or any less "risky" that just
putting your open mouth up to the gloryhole. Let's face it, if a man wants
head, he'll put it through. And if he's not interested, I'm sure he'll have
a problem with someone "just" ringing a giant hole in the wall!

So I did what came naturally to me and pressed my whole face to the large
hole, closed my eyes and opened my mouth as wide as I could. I figured that
would send a signal.

And sure enough, next thing I felt was a very thick, hot erection being
shoved into my small, already sperm-lined mouth. The man's cock was very
hard, like steel, and my tongue could feel its powerful vascularity as it
traced thick veins along the long shaft.

He did a few quick, determined pumps, then a slow removal from my mouth. I
looked into the hole wondering if I wasn't sucking him right. It was the
handsome older man from the Lawn Mower department! He stood there with his
trousers down as he looked directly at the gloryhole. He had to have seen me
looking since our eyes met. He smiled and wagged his very big cock at me
several times.

The man who had just been in that same stall had gone to the sinks but had
not left the restroom. Instead he was at the handsome man's door peeping in
on him and then on me. I guess he must have wanted to see a third man screw
and shoot cum into a little kid's mouth in a Sears t-room (or somethin')!

The man in the stall was aware of the other man's presence but as it must
have been apparent to him that he was also into this "very special t-room
circumstance", he didn't mind having the audience. In fact, I watched as he
stepped aside a bit to allow the other man to see exactly what he'd be
feeding the little gloryhole boy next. He wagged his big cock and the man
outside the stalls mumbled, "Give 'im that big thing...go on...lemme
see...lemme see him suck it."

The handsome graying man needed no further prompting and stepped up to the
wall and fucked his erection through the hole and back into my mouth. I
could feel his weight pressing on the opposite side of the metal wall, he
was so determined to feed me every millimeter of his dad-equipment.

As it was real life and not a movie, he thrust and throbbed into my mouth
and throat only few more times before he began pumping out wad after wad of
seed into me. I tried to remain calm in my breathing as I took a deep breath
even with this man's rod shoved into my small throat. I was getting good at
being a real cumpig for adults.

He pumped and fed sperm to me as the other man squeezed his own crotch again
watching the entire thing from his ringside seat.

The handsome man pulled back and wiped his cock off with some toilet paper.
I watched him as he did that and then slowly, almost as though he didn't
want to, pull up his trousers again. He packed away his daddy breeding straw
and zipped, giving his crotch a firm, "satisfied" pat as he knew I was
looking. I looked up and he looked down and winked. I looked some more since
he still wasn't leaving. He then reached into his back pocket and fished for
something. I was curious and so I watched. So did the man peeping in.

The handsome man pulled out a five-dollar bill (which was more than it
sounds like today), folded it a few times (to the size of a stick of
bubblegum) and slipped it through the gloryhole. I didn't know what he was
doing. I didn't know to take it even as he wagged it under my nose. It
wasn't until the other man, in a very licentiously bemused tone, whispered,
"He wants to say thanks, kid...take it, you're worth it."

I took the money and smiled. The man in the stall bent to the hole and
whispered, "You keep that up and you'll be rich some day!". He then left the
stall.

Oh, but that wasn't it. Just like the Sears catalogue, this experience went
on. The man who had been watching and who I had already sucked went back
into the empty stall, shut the door and unzipped. Apparently, watching had
made his cock need another sperm-letting. He put it through the hole and I
sucked him for the second time in ten minutes! He was rock hard and fucked
my mouth to the point where the metal partition was almost rattling as he
bucked his hips against it. I stayed with his cock through and he blew a
second load into my childish mouth. He then whipped it out of the hole,
quickly buckled up and flew out of the men's room.

At first I didn't know why he was so abrupt. But only a second after he
left, I heard what he must have heard a moment before. A mop bucket on
wheels. I sat on my potty and wondered. Maybe the janitor would want a
blowjob.

But instead I heard a lady's voice say, "CLEANING! Anyone in here?"

I got scared so I hopped to my feet, pulled up my pants and left the stall.

This large woman holding a mop cart stood at the open entrance door.
Obviously, she could see me in the mirror when I went up to a sink because
she very gently said, "Anyone else in her, honey?"

I squirted soap on my hands as I shook my head looking at her reflection in
the mirror.

"When you're done, honey, I'm closing it here for just a few minutes then",
she said.

I rinsed and wiped my hands and waltzed right past her, thinking her a cow
of woman to interrupt the fun.

I went back to the barbecue grills where I saw my dad standing. He smiled as
I approached. "Well, that took long enough", he said. "Get lost in there?"

I said no and giggled.

We didn't buy anything but as we rode up the escalator to the Boy's
Department we stood literally two steps down from Mr. Older Handsome and his
wife! He must have been sweating. We looked at some clothing but again
bought nothing. As we were going to leave, I saw the man and his wife again
in the Bath Dept. looking at soaps. I went up and looked at some, too. My
dad was perplexed. I said I wanted to buy my mom some since she couldn't
come. My dad didn't think they were worth it but then I said, "I have my own
money". That's when the handsome older man turned beet red and grabbed his
wife's elbow, escorting out of the department.


Mr. gloryholeJunkie's Tales From the Mall
By Mr. gloryholeJUNKIE, Denizen of the Public Toilets
m_g_h_j@hotmail.com
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/GHJ_MALL_OF_MALES