Date: Sat, 11 Apr 2015 21:47:45 +1200
From: Dampies Dampis <dampies1960@gmail.com>
Subject: Scratching That Itch-1

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--------------------------------------


I was ready. My wife and 19-year-old daughter had decided the family should
go for lunch at the local famer's market and I had been horny as a
billy-goat all morning. When I showered, I had flushed my innards until the
water ran clean, and had lubed my hungry 47-year-old asshole ready for any
pleasant surprises the day might deliver. It took all my will power when I
applied the lube not to finger my hole until I came, but I disciplined
myself to only smear the necessary and leave the possibility that a helpful
stranger might scratch the ever-present itch I always had in my
hindquarters. I had Grindr on my phone and was determined to make it as
easy as possible for opportunity to find my back door should it have the
urge to knock.

I had changed my status in my Grindr profile to *"At Orchard",* and the
description to *"Have protection, already lubed"* as we set off on our
adventure. During lunch I had occasionally glanced at my phone, as much to
alleviate the annoyance that was beginning to pervade my general experience
of being married, as to see if anything interesting was in the offing. I
had all but given it up for a bad job when I saw that beautiful little blue
"1" that contrasted so enticingly with the mustard coloured scheme of the
cruising app that lit up the screen of my Galaxy Note 4. Even as I watched
it changed magically to "2". I tried to keep the delight from showing on my
face. After all it might as easily be some horny guy 134km away that merely
wanted to swop cock pics, as a more satisfying application for the position
of itch-alleviator, which I was more keen on filling. Pardon the pun.

I couldn't hide my glee when I opened the message and it simply stated,
"Meet you in the toilet." The second bubble said, "Second stall. Door
unlatched." And a picture of a marginally scruffy twenty-something year old
with a cute smile. I shot off a pic of my own so he knew who was taking up
the offer, and a moment later a "shweet I'm waiting" appeared in a new
bubble.

My wife caught the tiny smirk that stole its way onto my otherwise bored
demeanor.

"What's so funny?" she asked with a *`please share'* tone in her voice.

"Nothing, just some stupid comment by Charles on Facebook." I deliberately
used our mutual friend's name because she found him supercilious and
irritating and I knew that she wouldn't want to know what the recently
atheist intellectual was saying. True to form her eyebrows just shot into
her hairline and she snorted derisively—I knew I was safe from further
inquiry.

"I'm going to the loo," I said, kissed her on the forehead and left her and
my daughter chatting about some female shit that would have had me slitting
my wrists in five minutes flat if a cute fucker on Grindr wasn't
propositioning me. All the profile said was *"25, exploring"* which was
code for *`I will fuck anything that moves, man or woman'.*

I followed the signs that led to the toilet and lucky they were some way
from the main building. My asshole twitched in anticipation as I approached
the men's room. I was scared that I would find the room occupied by others
who needed to answer the more mundane call of nature for which the premises
were more usually reserved.

I heaved a mental sigh of relief when I saw that the room was deserted
except for a pair of boots that conspicuously poked almost all the way out
from under the door to stall number two. It was, as promised, unlatched.

When I entered and my footsteps echoed through the empty men's room, the
boots pulled back and the door inched marginally more open. Scared that I
might be observed entering an occupied stall, I hastily reversed into the
open stall and closed the door behind me. I was startled as two muscular
hands grabbed me around the chest and pulled me into a moderately muscular
chest that was waiting behind me. A scruffy, stubbly chin started to nuzzle
in my neck and I struggled to stifle my groans of delight as a warm tongue
found my ear. A husky voice breathed into it.

"I'm going to fuck you so you remember me daddy-o." The man behind me
turned me around and I was confronted by a dazzling grin below the shades
on the face of a scruffy-cheeked charmer that looked a year or two younger
than his profile stated. I didn't have a lot of opportunity to take in the
sights as he pulled me in and kissed the crap out of me. He was slightly
taller and acted the top as he hauled me closer to suck at my tongue and
ravage my lips. He had me behind the head with his right hand while he
groped at my rapidly hardening crotch with his left. He backed me into the
side of the stall, which was fortunately the last one in the line so the
wall was solid and tiled. When he had me with my back against the wall he
started humping at me with his already bulging crotch. In the meantime he
did his best to eat my face off. Fuck knows we would have alerted the whole
neighborhood that there was more than just a number two going on in the
stall if anybody had chanced to walk in at just that time.

"We don't have a lot of time," I whispered. "My wife and daughter are
waiting outside in the restaurant."

"Naughty daddy! I like that," he mumbled into my mouth and sank to the
floor to undo the sweats I had worn to ensure quick access. He undid the
drawstring and rapidly pulled the soft pants and my undies down.

"Nice, next time I want you to do me," he cooed, and took my already
weeping 7 incher into his hand and pulled the foreskin back. He took a deep
sniff.

"And next time, don't wash," he instructed and took the whole thing into
his mouth to the hilt. I almost shot my load then and there so I pushed him
off and pulled him to his feet.

"Not today. Today you fuck me so get your cock out so I can put the
protection on".

I fiddled in my shirt pocket for the condom and tore it open with my teeth.
I looked downwards and took a quick breath. A thick sausage was outlined
all the way to his hipbone and I guessed it would pop its head out of the
waist of his pants if left to its own devices. The young stud didn't waste
any time and undid his bulging jeans. He wasn't wearing any underpants and
sure enough a thick uncut dick swung into view flinging a crystal rope of
precum across the floor, clearly relieved to be shot of its confinement. It
was my turn to give in to my need for cock and I sunk to my knees and
slurped the beauty into my mouth. He hissed his approval and put his hand
behind my head to guide his cock down my throat.

*"O fok,"* he said in Afrikaans and my eyes, which up to now had been
closed in enjoyment, shot open.

*"Jy's Afrikaans,"* (you're Afrikaans.) I whispered the obvious, looking up
at his ecstatic face behind the impressive boner that blocked my view. I
stood up and grabbed his head and buried my tongue down his throat. To find
a fellow Afrikaner with his cock down my gullet, in the toilet of an NZ
farming shop, was Christmas in April and I though I might just be in love.

*"Fok dis awesome; boerepiel in kiwi"* he breathed into my mouth and we did
our best to consume each other on the spot in a mutual tribal welcome.
There is nothing as beautiful as an Afrikaans man and the Afrikaans word
for cock *(piel)* is the most beautiful word in ANY language.

He pulled back and shifted his shades, which had up to now done their job
of hiding his eyes, to the top of his head into the unkempt mess that
passed for a hairstyle. Just the way I preferred it. I disliked prize
ponies and he was all boy, for sure. His eyes were a clear blue and the
impaled me in his cocky gaze.

*"Ons het nie baie tyd nie," *(we don't have much time) I repeated into his
mouth and still snogging fit to suffocate a horse, blindly tried to apply
the condom—which had up to now been waiting patiently in my hand—to his
dripping boner. He pulled my head in again and sucked painfully at my
tongue and my cock, which was doing its best to paint his half-down jeans
with precum, lurched with appreciation. He released my tongue and focused
his attention on helping me to apply the condom to his beautiful dick. He
briefly looked up and smiled into my star struck eyes.

*"Jy's fokken sexy, pappa,"* he whispered. (You're fucking sexy, daddy). *"Ek
kan nie wag om jou te spyker nie".* (I can't wait to nail you)

I pinched the tip of the condom that he was sliding down the turgid length
of his heavy cock (with difficulty I might add, as the thickness was
impressive). I looked forward to welcoming that member into the holy
sanctum of my innards. I couldn't resist and sunk to my knees again and
turned him around and bent him over forward. His ass, in front of me, was
plump and round and hairy and as I parted his cheeks, the swirl of fur
around the pink rosebud held fragrant man-musk that wafted out and made my
head spin with naked lust and caused my mouth to water. I leaned forward
and dove in to sample the delights of his ass with satisfaction. He was
generous with his bounty and relaxed his sphincter so my tongue could play
in the folds of his entrance. The bouquet of earthy flavours and smells
played havoc with my senses. But we had more important matters to attend
to. There was, before anything, the matter of an itch to scratch.

My young stud turned around and helped me to my feet. He could surely smell
his ass all over my face when he kissed me again. Then he took me by the
shoulder and swung me firmly around and placed his sheathed cock at the
portal to my anus. He fiddled briefly as he found the entrance and then
shoved hard. Good thing I'd been generous with the lube!

The breath left my lungs in a whoosh, and I could barely contain my shocked
groan just as we heard the door of the rest room open and the squeak of
rubber soles disturb the silence. In alarm I looked to my right, while
trying to control my whimpers at the force with which he'd entered me and
saw that the latch on our cubicle was still not done. If the newcomer
decided he wanted to use our booth we would be caught like deer in the
headlights.

The waves of white-hot pain that radiated out of my traumatized anus had a
moment to subside as we heard the telltale sounds of a zipper being pulled
down, the fiddling and thunder of a strong stream against porcelain. All
the while my penetrator held me to his chest in a possessive bear hug. I
felt the thud of his alarmed heart against my back and his warm, wet mouth
in my neck that counteracted the droop-producing effect of his sudden
penetration and near-discovery. He reached around and forced my face
towards him to initiate a heart-stopping kiss that produced the desired
effect on my asshole, which relaxed and welcomed the virile intruder into
my grateful insides.

The squeak of the tennis shoes retreated towards the door and as we heard
it close my friend started to explore my intestines with intent. He didn't
release the firm grip he had around my chest so when he thrust, it felt as
if he was going to pop out of my mouth. I was in heaven, and let out a long
satisfied groan that was interrupted with rhythmical hiccups in time to his
pounding.

My cock was slinging ropes of precum all over the stall wall in time to his
sledgehammering, so I stepped out of my sweats to make sure that I didn't
get any on them to give away my activities later. He was clearly working up
quite a head of steam and I could tell that he was getting there fast. The
sensation of his thick, sheathed cock against the perimeter of my anus was
also doing the trick for me and combined with his perfectly aimed punches
at my prostate, I was ready to join him in a well-timed culmination on the
fuck express. Being held in his arms, pushed up against the wall with my
face turned around to meet his drooling and huffing mouth, while being
pounded with his long, thick sausage, was about the sexiest thing I had
ever experienced. At once I felt vulnerable and secured, desired and
dominated, consumed like a piece of meat and still treasured in the arms of
my violator. I was in heaven. And when he sped up his assault with
increased urgency and groaned from deep in his gut and impaled me,
literally lifting me off the floor with his explosion, the geyser that had
been building up inside of me erupted all over the tiled wall of the toilet
stall. He held me breathless against his chest in his arms and once again I
could feel his heart thumping against my back in time to my own as he
filled the condom to capacity and our mutual throbbing paid testimony to
the receding waves of pleasure that bound us together in a mute and
breathless celebration of masculine bonding.

Slowly he put me down and kissed me again passionately over my shoulder. He
bent his knees a bit and I felt him slowly slide out of me with a genuine
feeling of loss and regret.

*"Ons moet gou maak, my mense gaan wonder waar ek is,"* I whispered. (We
must hurry, my people are going to wonder where I am).

To my surprise, he went down on his knees and cleaned my flaccid cock
tenderly with his mouth, and licked up some cum that had spattered against
my leg when I shot. Then he stood up and carefully worked the condom off
his soft dick and tied the end in a knot and tossed it in the toilet.
Watching him, I had wiped my ass with some toilet paper, but because I had
cleaned so carefully, there was no mess and because of the condom, no cum.
I pulled my sweats up and with a last peck on his soft, sexy lips, slipped
out of the stall. He waited in the cubicle while I quickly washed my hands,
face and neck to make sure I didn't smell of saliva, dried my face with
some paper towel, and slipped out of the rest room.

"What took you so long, love?" my wife asked, a worried frown on her face.

"I don't know, darling, something didn't agree with me. My tummy's quite
upset."

"I hope you're not coming down with something," she said. "Your neck and
face are quite flushed..."

"Me too," I concurred, feeling the twitching of my contacting asshole in my
sweats, silently weeping for the studly *boerepiel* (Afrikaner prick) that
had so recently joined us together in a bond of carnal Afrikaner
brotherhood. Just then the object of my quickie walked out of the men's
room and out of the front door, without so much as a backward glance. I was
grateful and weirdly heartbroken.

*"Totsiens,"* I though silently to my virile young Afrikaner lover. (Until
we see each other again). But of course we would never see each other
again. All I would have to remember him by would be the emptiness in my
asshole. The itch was well and truly scratched but I became aware, as
always, of the deeper itch that was growing inside me.

That one wouldn't be so easy to appease.