Date: Sat, 20 Nov 2004 17:20:47 -0800 (PST)
From: perfesser
Subject: Meeting Mike

WARNING: This story contains descriptions of sexual acts involving human
beings.  I wish to explain that this story is not true!  Further, it is
not intended to promote illegal acts against others, but to demonstrate
that people can love each other.  The sexual acts described in the story
are the results of my imagination.  I have not performed these acts, and
I do not encourage others to perform them with anyone.  If the subject of
man/boy or homosexual love between people offends you, if this material
is illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age
for such material, do not read further!  No animals were hurt in the
writing of this story.

And now...

Meeting Mike

Our son, Mike, the college student, chose to attend an institution that
is more than two hours removed from home.  I guess like many students
before him, he saw the distance as an insulation against prying eyes.
But when he needed something he'd left at home, there were sudden demands
on Daddy's time to deliver said object into his hands.  This was one of
those days, but I had come up with an alternate solution.

Since time is of essence both to father and son, I suggested we meet
half-way.  I have a somewhat flexible work schedule but time is still a
critical factor.  There was a large shopping mall about midway between
the school and our home.  Since it was close to Christmas, we could meet
there, have lunch together, exchange the item (or items) he wanted, and I
could then cruise the mall for Christmas presents (or whatever) before
returning home.  That way we'd each spend half the travel time and I
could get some "shopping" under my belt as well.

So we set the time and location to meet.  I got his list of items needed
from home.  And when the morning came, I shuffled off to the mall, giving
myself a little time to shop before we met (afterall college students
prefer sleeping in 'till almost noon; so I had some of the morning to
kill).

I got to the mall just after 10:00.  All the shops were open and I
wandered down aisle after aisle, checking over merchandise, thinking
about my Christmas list and contemplating my budget.  On one long
mallway, just across from a video arcade, the overhead sign read "Public
Restrooms."  I glanced at my watch ... hell, I had almost an hour to
spare ... so I went down the short hallway to the men's room.

It was your typical public toilet; four urinals on the side, sinks across
the way, four regular stalls and a handicapped area.  There was the
expected sounds of shuffling feet and a lid crack or two as I entered,
but then the pairs of feet (dropped trouser and underwear piled upon
shoes) were visible under a few doors.  The handicapped stall was vacant
and I slipped inside.

The extra space and guide rails gave me opportunity to bend down and
watch the activities in the rest of the room.  In a few seconds the guy
in the stall next to mine slid down on his knees and pressed his lower
body into the stall on the other side of him.  The guy on that side
apparently was stroking him off, although in another moment loud slurping
and sucking sounds filled the room.  It was either theirs or coming from
the first stalls in the row.

Two or three minutes passed with the guy next to me squirming on his
knees.  Then he grunted ... once, twice ... and heaved his butt up a
bit.  He slipped back up onto the commode and breathed a deep sigh.  I
heard paper being unrolled, he flushed, stood up and was gone.  And I
realized that I was holding my own erection.

I tapped my foot (hoping to get the attention of the guy two booths over)
but those guys were otherwise occupied.  Within ten minutes they had each
left, and I was alone in the restroom.

I sat and slowly rubbed my balls, occasionally stroking my cock.  The
restroom door opened and someone entered and stepped over to the sinks.
They ran water, splashed a bit, pulled paper toweling out of the
dispenser, and turned toward the door.  I couldn't see them, but I had
the sense they were debating ... maybe checking out the guy (me) in the
corner stall.  I tapped my toe a couple times.

He came over.  He stood outside the booth next to me, seemed to hesitate
a moment, and then he stepped inside.  He went through all the motions
... locked the door, dropped his pants (no underwear), and seemed to sit
down.  While all this was going on, my mind was taking in the little
details.  This had to be a "kid."  He was wearing tattered jeans (well,
what I could see) and sandals ... bright red, shiny sandals ... and green
socks.  Whoa!  Some Christmas spirit!  But his feet were big, man sized.
Maybe he was just a kid at heart.

After he'd settled in, I tapped my toe again, twice.  He tapped his twice
and slid his foot a little closer to mine.  I tapped again.  And he slid
his red and green foot over against my foot and tapped it again.  Hell,
you know what came next.  I stuck two fingers under the wall and slid
them a few inches ("show me yours" it said).  And he stood up and moved
to face the wall between us.

As he did that, I leaned back and tried to get a glimpse of him through
the seam along the wall.  No such luck.  But then his knees slid under
the wall and two wiry legs and a beautiful blond pubic patch slipped into
view.  The center of all that was a gorgeous, uncut eight-inch, almost
hard schlong, hanging lazily over a blond fuzzy nut sack.  He was apple
pie, ice cream and Sunday dinner all on a platter.

I began to stroke over his mast, slowly swirling my hand with the head of
his cock seated deeply in the pad of my palm.  He pressed upward a bit
with his hips.  His cock began to rise ... and lengthen.  Now almost nine
inches, the foreskin still slightly covering his glans, I began to stroke
him up and down with my closed fist.  His balls rolled slightly in the
sack.

I slipped down on my knees in front of his (glad these handicapped stalls
are more roomy than the regular ones) and leaned in to lick pre-cum off
the tip.  I squeezed a little harder and stroked back the foreskin,
exposing a shiny glans with a slight flare.  Then I licked around the
ridge and sucked it into my mouth.  From the other side of the wall came
an audible inhale ... a gasp of pleasure.

I continued to suck ... taking more and more into my throat ... backing
off from time to time and licking the tip ... working my tongue around
the glans ... sucking the foreskin into my mouth over the head of his
dick, then pressing with my lips and sliding it back and down over the
shaft as I took him deep.  I worked his balls with my thumb and rubbed
the sweet spot under them ... he was hard as wood and his cock went on
forever.

I slipped my index and middle fingers back into his butt crack and rubbed
over his asshole.  He jumped, pressing his cock into my throat to the
point of gagging me.  I sucked back and up and off, nibbling his
foreskin.  Then I leaned in and drew him as deeply as I could.  His cock
twitched, swelled ... the head almost gagging me ... and he shot volley
after volley into my mouth.  His cream was warm and thick and
salty-sweet.  There was a pronounced, "Ahrrgg," and his butt slapped the
floor, almost pulling his prick from my mouth.

But I hung on, sucking the glans, rolling my tongue under it and into the
foreskin, draining off every drop of this boy's sweet juice.  And then he
was finished.  He slipped away, pulling up his jeans and was out the door
before I could even get off the floor.  I waited, caught my breath, and
stood up.  My cock had leaked pre-cum, dribbled it down the back of my
slacks and underwear (I had pulled my pants down earlier ... remember).
Now I was soft; all my attention had been given to his pleasure.  I
tucked myself into my boxers, took a wad of toilet paper quickly to the
dampest spots on the back of my trousers, and buttoned up.

I washed my hands (really a ploy) and backed up to the hand-dryer.
Seconds before it shut off, a man came into the room, stared at me a
second and went to the urinals to piss.  I left and wandered through the
mall to the Arby's where I'd promised Mike we'd meet.

He wasn't there yet, or at least I didn't see him, so I got a cup of
coffee ... theirs is not the best ... and waited at a table near the
entrance.  Then I saw him ... my son Mike ... tall and lanky, he was
making his way toward Abry's.

He was wearing a wild ski-sweater, a knit scene of sleigh and reindeers,
all red and green.  He wore baggy, tattered jeans.  And ... my God ... he
had on green socks and red sandals!

Merry Christmas!