BACKPACKERS IN MARSEILLES

        I have enjoyed the stories presented here in Nifty and when I read the 
stories under the category of masturbation I was immediately reminded of an 
incident that happened to me in February of 1980. I was twenty three years 
old and still quite wet behind the ears. I was traveling in Europe with
a friend from my small home town and we had met others that were
traveling the same route. We became friends and traveling companions
with several people from all over the world: Debby and Michele, a couple
of Australians girls; Dag, a Norwegian; Clint, a Finn; and Nancy another
Canadian.
	As we traveled we had split up and regrouped as we went off to see
different things. Larry and I were in Nice and were supposed to meet up
with Dag and Clint in Nice and then the Australian girls in Peripignan,
Spain. However, the two Europeans hadn't shown up and we were supposed
to meet up with Debby and Michele, so I left my friend Larry and Nancy
in Nice to wait for them and headed to Spain, they were supposed to head
to Spain when they arrived. Luck would have it that I got into
Marseilles and there was a train strike in Spain and so I couldn't go
forward and the next train back to Nice was several hours later. For the
first time on the trip I was alone with no chaperone and my French
mediocre at the best still allowed me some movement. I walked from the
train station down to the docks, looked at boats and had lunch. 
	I went back to the train station and after checking the schedule again
decided to go to take a piss. The pissoir, a long ceramic trough, was
filled with old men and the odd traveler and I had to walk to the end of
the trough to find an open spot. When I stepped up to the trough I
gulped as most of the old men gawked in my direction. Most of them were
stroking there dicks and glancing up and down the trough. I decided to
ignore them and tried to concentrate on pissing. Slowly I allowed myself
to relax and a dribble started when another person got up in the trough
beside me, my pissing quit. I glanced to my right and noted he was about
40 with a tweed jacket on. Quite good looking I noted from my quick
glance. I shut my eyes to try and get the 
bladder draining again. I looked down and was able to see him open his
pants and haul out his uncut cock. 
	I had never really seen many other cocks before that time and an uncut
dick was a rarity in my life at that point. He pulled the skin back
slightly to expose the head and I felt his stare upon me as I stared at
his dick, actually wherever I had looked I seemed to see a dick in
someone's hand staring at me. I wanted to crawl in a hole but knew that
I had to piss and if I left then I couldn't get the courage to come back
into the pissoir again. It felt like all the eyes of the old men were
upon the two of us, I am not sure if it was my self consciousness or
what. I couldn't take my eyes off of his dick and he was watching me and
mine, I started to get hard, I couldn't stop myself, I just stood there
getting harder and harder until it was obvious to all the men down the
trough. I would be considered average in length about six and half to
seven inches long and it stuck out from my body like a flag pole. The
guy to my right started to get harder too as more of his head became
exposed and it thickened in his hand with the wedding ring on it. 
	The rustle of flesh and cloth grew louder as the pace of masturbation
along the trough increased with our little show, I couldn't do anything.
My dick felt like never before, each pulse of my heart made it seem to
get bigger and that the end would explode. I gripped my dick to try and
control it and cover it more, the guy beside me was hard as well. Not as
thick or long as mine but it appeared so elegant with that extra skin
covering the edges of his knob. He looked at me and I met his eyes,
green, his face good looking with brown hair just starting to gray above
his ears he had a brown turtle neck sweater on, slim, no belly. A signal
passed between our eyes and I came. 
        I tried to stop it, I gripped it and the pressure only forced
the come out of me faster. I blasted volley after volley onto the white
ceramic, an audible increase of sound indicated that attention from the
old men was still on us. A rush of heat hit my face as I blushed with
shock at this moment of exhibition. 
        The mans eyes had moved to my dick as it had exploded. I closed
my eyes, felt him move beside me and I opened my eyes to watch as he
stuffed his hard dick into his pants. He smiled at me and left the
pissoir.
	Weak kneed I stood there until I could piss, then I stuffed my
own dick in my pants and left. Some of the old men must have come as
well as they started to tuck themselves in and leave. It seemed that
each of the old men turned to look at me one more time, I ignored them,
lost in my thoughts of what had just happened. I had passed through some
door of my sexuality and it would never be the same.
	Your stories on masturbation definitely triggered this memory. As I
analyze my journey in life it was definitely a turning point, the memory
of my hard dick which had never felt like that before or since. What
communication we exchanged when his eyes signaled me is lost to memory.
He wanted to see me come, I know that and why he never joined me I do
not know unless it had to do with the wedding ring. The old men seemed
to enjoy it and I suppose that it was a gift of unknowing youth to the
memory of age. I hope when I am old and when I take a piss somewhere
that some youth will show himself proudly. Thanks for the forum to share
this, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did and still remember it.

HAJ