Let me present myself: I am a 28-year-old man from Europe currently living in Orlando, Florida. I'm a pretty good-looking guy; 6 feet, 180 pounds, and I work out often. I have lived here for 2 and a half years, and I have a good group of friends. Almost every weekend we go out to have a couple of beers and flirt with some girls. Typical guy stuff, you know.
I've been single for a month or so now, so I was really looking forward to this particular weekend-- it had been a while since I got laid. I'd struck out on my last several bar trips, but I was feeling lucky. I went out with my buddies, got a few beers as usual, and started cruising the bar. There weren't as many hot chicks around this time, and the few that were there weren't interested. So I added a couple of shots and soldiered on to the next bar on the itinerary.
Now it was 2 in the morning, and I had nothing to show for it. I was a little drunk and sick of getting shot down so many times, so I decided it was time to give up. I waved to my friends and stumbled out onto the sidewalk, looking for a cab. After a few futile minutes, I realized that I had to take a leak. My place wasn't that far away, but it was too far to walk. I still couldn't catch a cab, and now my bladder was vehemently making its situation known.
This was not my night.
The only thing I could think of was to keep walking and find a bathroom. With my luck, I'd get caught for indecent exposure if I tried to go outside. I hobbled my way down the street, looking for anything that was open, which wasn't much. Finally I spotted another bar-- somehow I'd never seen this one before. No time to wonder how I'd missed it, though. I hurried inside.
It was dark, and I narrowly avoided tripping over a table. As my eyes adjusted, I could see there were only men inside, and they seemed to be checking me out. I remember thinking that they looked too masculine to be gay, and decided that they were simply surprised to see a new face in this crappy place. I asked the bartender where the bathroom was, and he told me-- of course-- that it was customers only. I slapped down the money for a beer, took a sip, and left it on a table on my way to the bathroom.
By now I had to go so badly I thought I might piss my pants, so I took the first urinal I saw, which happened to be right next to another guy. Usually we try to keep at least a two-urinal distance away from each other, but this was an emergency. I undid my pants and let go. What a relief! It was so good that I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, I happened to glance at the guy next to me. His arm was moving. I couldn't stop myself from looking down, and yep, he was masturbating. I felt the color drain from my face and looked quickly away. I hoped I'd finish up soon; I wanted to get the hell out of here. Way too close for... comfort...
I found myself looking at him again, just for a second, and I was beginning to feel something other than discomfort. I was actually starting to feel a little turned on. But I'd never been attracted to men in my life!
"You can look if you want."
Shit. I jumped a bit at the guy's deep voice.
"No thanks," I mumbled.
By now, thank god, I was done pissing. I put my cock back in my trousers and zipped up, turning to leave. But the guy stopped me.
"Come on. Just look at it and tell me if you've seen a cock this big before." I looked back, against my better judgment, and saw he'd turned toward me.
Too embarrassed to look at his face, I had nowhere to look but down. My eyes grew wide. His cock was cut, a good 8 to 9 inches long, and thick, with a perfectly shaped red tip. I found myself hypnotized by the sight of it, of the guy's hand stroking it. My mouth was dry, my heart was beating hard in my chest and my face was on fire.
"So," he said, a smile playing on his lips, "do you like what you see?"
"Yes." Shit! "I-I mean, no."
"It's okay, we're alone in here. Just tell me what you think."
"It's... It's beautiful." I was beyond confused. Nervous butterflies filled my stomach and my own cock was hard. My brain was fighting to understand what was going on. I was straight, wasn't I? In my mind I was sure of it, but my whole body was attracted by this natural beauty.
"Do you want to touch it?"
I was about to say no, but my right hand thought otherwise. I touched it gingerly, with just the tips of my fingers and soon after he took my hand, placed it around the shaft and moved it up and down with his. I was stock still, barely breathing, watching my hand move on his cock like it wasn't a part of me... and it felt totally natural for him to abuse my hand like this.
After a few long moments, I heard him say, "Let's go in here." Together we moved into the handicapped stall, my hand never leaving his cock. After he closed the door, he let go of my hand, but I didn't stop. I continued to stroke him on my own. I knew now that I liked what I was doing, and I was starting to want more.
The next thing I knew, as if I had done it a million times I was down on my knees in front of his cock, kissing it. The taste was strong, a mix of sweat, precum and piss. Finally I put the tip in my mouth and then went farther, taking his cock in as much as I could, until I nearly gagged. I was blowing him like my life depended on it.
The guy's moans were encouraging me to go further, harder and faster. He was touching my head like he was caressing a puppy, I was his bitch; I wanted his juice in my mouth. In the back of my mind, I was freaking out at the situation-- me, the player who loves to dominate women in the bedroom, on my knees in the dirty bathroom of a dirty bar, worshiping this beautiful cock.
After a few minutes, he gripped my head with both hands and started fucking my mouth, the way I would fuck a nice little whore doggystyle. I knew he was about to cum. I had hardly finished the thought when he plunged his dick deep in my mouth, and then I f felt the first splash of hot cum against the back of my throat. Then another, and another, and I was fighting to breathe and swallow at the same time. I managed to swallow some, the rest dribbling out of my mouth and down my chin.
He let go of me, and I pulled back for a breath, trying not to cough. Then I leaned back in and licked his shaft clean like a greedy slut. When I was done I collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily.
The man gave a satisfied sigh. "I knew you were a good cocksucker," he said with a chuckle, putting his cock back in his pants. "Why don't you give me your number so I can call you the next time I need a blow?"
Mechanically, I told him my number. He tapped it into his phone and left without a word.
As I sat there, gathering my thought and trying to slow my heart rate down, the realization of what I'd done dawned on me. The heat of shame lit my face and traveled to every inch of my body, propelling me up and out of the bathroom, out of the bar and down the street, where I finally hailed a cab.
I felt sick all the way home. I thought I might throw up. Instead I brushed my teeth zealously, at least 5 times. But I could still taste the traces of that guy's cock in my mouth. I hardly slept. I almost felt like crying. What was wrong with me? I felt totally lost.
I had sex with a girl 3 days after that experience and enjoyed it as much as I had before. I hooked up with a bunch of girls, trying to reassure myself of my sexuality. And even when I had a good time, I kept flashing back to that bathroom, the man and his cock. But I didn't feel sick about it anymore. Ironically, I got laid more often in a week than I ever had...
And a week was all it took to convince me that I really had liked sucking that guy's cock. Maybe I did like men, or maybe it was just him. I still wasn't sure. And even though he had used me so callously, I found myself hoping that he would call. I wanted to play with his cock again, maybe more.
Well, guess what? He called me.
But that's another story....