Date: Wed, 26 Dec 2007 07:38:43 -0800 (PST)
From: Jack deGropier <jackdegropier@yahoo.com>
Subject: Afternoon Glory

[I leave you to work out which parts of the following story are true, and
which are the produce of my fantasy, I can tell you that some of it is
definitely true!]

From as long ago as I can remember, I have been nervous about using
public toilets. For example, I found it impossible to stand next to
another man in a crowded urinal in case, well, in case..... I guess it
all stemmed from my mother's warnings about men who were "dirty", as she
called them, men who would do bad things to boys if they could. So, I
always assumed the worst, even when I was grown to manhood myself.  And
if anyone actually spoked to me, or even LOOKED at me, in a public
toilet, my heart would start beating faster and my palms would break out
in sweat.
Worst of all for me was if I had to use a cubicle for a "sit down jog",
as my mother used to call them. The walls were always covered with
graffiti, often accompanied by drawings of huge male genitalia, all about
men seeking cocks to suck and other disgusting stuff like that. Of
course, when the urinals were crowded, I would use a cubicle anyway just
for a pee, but I always locked the door to make people think I was using
it for a more appropriate purpose. And, despite myself, I always read the
graffiti, and when I did, I would feel my cock twitching into life and
getting hard as the blood engorged it.
I never understood why that was so. After all, I looked at women a lot,
and at their breasts, and always thought about women when I wanked. Well,
almost always, though sometimes an image of those drawings of men's cocks
would come unbidden into my mind, and I would start masturbating even
more furiously. I decided it was just my personal wickedness, a sort of
inevitable depravity of one such as I who thought constantly about sex,
but whose sex life never went beyond pornography and masturbation.
Anyway, back to my fear of public toilets. One that I used regularly had
holes cut in the partitions, usually with a message written above them
saying "SUCK MY COCK" or "GIVE ME YOUR COCK". I dreaded the day when
someone would occupy the next cubicle and push his cock through one of
those hole. I suppose you don't know about these holes, you not being a
degenerate like me. They are called "glory holes". Of course, the day
came when the next cubicle to mine was occupied. I had been taken short
and was sitting on the toilet, and using the time to read the graffiti as
usual. Interesting how many men specify that they want sex with a
"schoolboy". I started to wonder what it would be like to do sex stuff
with someone really young. And then, a slip of paper pushed under the
partition with a scrawled question:. "Want me to suck your dick?"
I froze. Help! I thought. I have to get out of here! I pushed the piece
of paper back under the partition with my foot, and hoped that would be
the end of it. Embarrassingly, though, my cock had started to harden the
moment I saw the message. In no time, my cock was begging to be stroked,
but I didn't dare do anything with some predatory "dirty man" trying to
draw me into his perverted world. The piece of paper reappeared. I read
it again "Want me to suck your dick?" to which he had added. "Please." My
cock by now was completely erect and throbbing. God, I thought, what kind
of person am I, to get hard when a man offers to suck my cock for me? I
looked at the hole. At its height above the floor. I would need to stand
up. I estimated I wouldn't need to bend my knees, it was the perfect
height for me. I wondered. What if I did? Why not? Just to see. Just to
know.
"Come on, man," came a whisper from my unknown cocksucker, "you know you
want to."
I froze. How did he know that I was aroused? How COULD he know?
"If you don't like it, you can always withdraw," he said, his voice calm
and pleasant.
No! I could never do anything like that! Could I? Could I? I stood up,
thinking it was time for me to get out of there, but, just as I was about
to zip up my pants, a crazy impulse came over me. Just to see. Just to
KNOW....
I had to bend my cock down to get it through the hole, that's how aroused
I was. Immediately I felt firm fingers wrapping themselves round my
shaft, and moments later
a warm wet mouth sliding over my cockhead. A warm wet EXPERIENCED mouth.
A dedicated COCKSUCKER's mouth. As a young boy, I had had a recurring
nightmare of someone - male or female I don't know, just someone - biting
off my penis. And now, at this no-turning-back moment, the image
recurred. But I didn't need to worry. I never felt his teeth once, only
his wonderful lips and his agile tongue. I found it hard to stand still
as he did that thing, you know, working the wrapped fingers on the shaft
of my cock in a counter-rhythm to the sucking of his amazing mouth.
Then, suddenly, he withdrew from my cock. Damn! Had I done something
wrong? Had I upset him? Oh god, I didn't want him to stop when I was SO
CLOSE!
"Cum in my mouth, ok? I'll swallow you," he whispered.
And then his mouth was back again, his lips clamped over the shaft of my
cock, as he took my cock, god knows, it much have been way down his
throat by now. Yes, deep throat. I wondered what it was like to suck a
cock. That image finished me off. I felt my cock stiffen in the old
familiar way, that tightening of the ballsac, that moment when everything
goes still before the first surge builds up and fights its way from your
balls, along the narrow channel of your shaft before exploding in a glory
of manseed. But this time, unlike all the other times, my precious
manfluid would not be spilled Onan-like on the ground, but would be
swallowed and treasured by another man, one who knew its true value. The
electric tingling that always accompanies my orgasms was magnified
thousandfold as he kept his mouth working. My legs were buckling, I was
shipwrecked, I was beyond help. I was fulfilled.
To my surprise, he kept my cock in his mouth even as it detumesced, but
cleverly didn't try to suck it any more, because he knew something that
no woman knows about the state of a man's cock after he has ejaculated.
Finally my cock plopped out of his mouth and I withdrew gently. I needed
to sit down..
"Thank you," I said. It sounded stupid, but I meant it.
"Anytime, man," he said. Then the sound of his cubicle door opening and
he was gone.

That night, as I lay in my bed, my hand comforting my cock as usual, I
went over the amazing events of the day. Two things were certain now.
First, I loved having a man suck my cock. Second, I couldn't wait for the
chance to be the one to do the sucking. Mentally I began composing a
message to scrawl on toilet walls around the town: "Phone 555-3782 for
cocksuck, or meet me here any Thursday afternoon."

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