Date: Sun, 31 May 2015 22:20:11 -0500
From: Carlos Deleon <carlosadeleon@gmail.com>
Subject: Two Cubs

The bathroom was the only original part of the theater left. It had stood
while the facade was updated with neon lights, and the marble in the lobby
was replaced, and the staircase, re-gilded. The times had changed, but the
bathroom was the same. The sinks were tiny vanities, there was a built in
shelf where the ghost of an attendant long died might have stood. The
mirrors were built in, with little gold flecks around the edges. That
urinals were very long and thin, and not very clean. The tile was a pattern
of textured boxes and figures that caught the eye and the toilets barely
flushed.

But the stalls were big. Big enough to be fuck a cute cub couple in for the
weekend.

I met them at the party going on upstairs still. I smiled at them from
across the room, two guys who were a few years into the lifetime goal of
looking exactly like the other. I walked up to them and talked about the
folks we had in common, and the jobs we had. It was meaningless when
compared to the ways one of them came looking me up and down and the way my
hand found their shoulders, sides, bellies and ass. Little touches, each
meaningless in the flow of conversation, but when taken together,
communicating a wealth of meaning.

I excused myself, saying that I didn't know where the bathroom was, but was
sure to find it, given time and help. I walked away from them, knowing
without looking that they were just the kind of helpful cubs for this task.
I admired the staircase, with its garlands and the marble with its hearty
warm sound, and the ceiling, in all its vaunted majesties. I made sure to
find the bathroom quickly.

It was down a flight of stairs, around a corner, into an antechamber that
amplified all sounds, through a pair of doors, around a corner and into the
bathroom proper. I walked past the aging sinks and neglected urinals to the
huge stalls. Each with very little open space at the bottom, and very much
space within. I know without looking that the two sets of footsteps
featured the cubs. Their legs carry their hefty bellies and hairy chest,
and round faces, helped by a thick set of thighs, each a slightly modified
version of the other. Both of them following me into the last stall, moving
as a well-rehearsed unit. They attacked me in unison, each going for what
felt like a pre-determined nipple or ear lobe. Each moving their butts
where my hands were located, or maybe it was the other way around, my hands
finding their matching round butts by instinct.

One goes down on me. I thought it would be him. He knees and pops the
button of my fly and fishes me out. His mouth is warm and it licks me to
life. I can't see him (his lover's face fills my face with tongue and
beard), but i get the image of a big shaggy dog digging to find life. Soon,
i'm raring to go and he's attacking the full length. I'm still making out
with his lover, except now my hand has moved from jean-clad butt to cotton
waistband, and soon it will break underneath the bands to feel a lightly
furred rump. He purrs in my mouth while the other grunts around my cock. I
know where my hands are, but I see a third one gripping the back of his
head as he bobs at my crotch. The cocksucker is being helped by his lover
even as the lover's butt is being fingered.

And I'm in there pretty deep. Long thin fingers, able to combine to form
tapered probes, i'm working my thumb in to meet my pointer and middle
fingers. They combine at a point somewhere inside his hole and expanding
and contracting in series. The lover purrs and backs into my hand as the
cocksucker takes a moment to lick up the precum collecting in my foreskin.
"He's a hungry little fucker, isn't he?" I say to the lover, whose lip is
starting to show the effort of his teeth, as he bites it and purrs. This
one is a definitely a cat, working his way towards heat.

"Wait until you see my ass," he replies to me, trying to give me a wicked
smile. He doesn't succeed because my ring finger has joined the triad; a
regular foursome spreading him open enough that words are becoming hard to
form. He stops biting his lip and starts to bite my shoulder, the purr in
his throat, and his butt still pushing back.

This stall is definitely big enough for a while.