Public Toilet Encounter
Posted on: March 25, 2009?>
I was walking home from work through the park late one afternoon feeling extremely horny. I had not masturbated for about three days because my girlfriend’s parents were staying with us and in between working and showing them around town I had no time to myself. I took the long way home so I could stop by the public toilets in the park, to read the things written on the walls while stroking a quick load off, as I sometimes do. My girlfriend doesn’t know it but I love cock. Especially the anonymous, no-strings-attached kind I’ve now and then sought in public places known for that type of activity, I think they call it cottaging in England. As I neared the old brick building in the far corner of the park I looked around and the only person in the park was a man on the other side of the park jogging. I skirted the fence and discreetly slipped inside the male side of the toilet. I entered the second cubical and closed the door behind me. The stall was filthy and had a foul, musty smell. The floor was wet and the walls and door were covered in messages left by men seeking sex. I unbuckled my belt and let my trousers and underpants fall to the floor. Sitting on the toilet holding my erect penis I read the messages and began to stroke. The dirty, stinking atmosphere of the dark toilet cubical aroused me and instantly brought me close ...
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The Hammer
Posted on: March 25, 2009?>
The Hammer: Part IBy Mr. KinkThe bell rang for the end of another day at school. I had been daydreaming about a guy on the football team everyone loved. If you saw him you would know why. Standing at six feet and two inches, muscular, dark piercing eyes and a five o’clock shadow that always seemed to linger on his chiseled jaw, his name was Riley but everyone called him the hammer. Riley was the king of our school, he got on the honor roll every semester, quarterback of the football team and he had fucked almost all the girls in my graduating class, a real man’s man. The bell had rang but I needed to stay behind. My dick was so hard inside my jeans, I didn’t want to embarrass myself by walking out of the class room into a hallway of people with a raging boner trying to escape my pants.So I sat there as the classroom emptied and soon I was alone with my cock too hard to walk. I finally got up the courage and walked into the hallway with a jacket over my arm and I crossed my arms in front of me so as not to draw attention. I made my way to the boy’s room and into one of the stalls. Now I had some privacy. I leaned against a wall in the stall and unzipped my pants. I rubbed my meat that already had pre-cum oozing out of the tip, wiping it up ...
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Ferris Wheel
Posted on: March 25, 2009?>
Bright lights and frenzied sounds surrounded me as I handed my $3.50 to the man behind the counter. In return, I received a huge mound of pink cotton candy swirled around a thin wooden stick. I walked away from the concession stand to explore the barrage of sensory delights, taking occasional bites from the cotton candy that melted onto my tongue the very second that contact was made. The sugary sweet snack added to my heightened senses. It was the opening night of the state fair, and I planned to take full advantage of all of the flashy entertainment offered. I ambled around the fair with my cotton candy in hand, using my tickets to see the random freak show installations along the trail. Most of them involved Paleozoic creatures that had been found hidden deep in the jungles of the Amazon and Congo. These supposed prehistoric creatures didn’t seem to be any different from your everyday lizard or large snake, but I was willing to suspend reality for a while and thoroughly enjoy myself. Fairs, carnivals, and circuses have fascinated me since I was a child. I’ve never grown tired of them, despite the high number of them that I’ve attended and my increasing age. I enjoy anything that makes me feel youthful once again. Once I hit my mid-twenties, I started to feel much older. The state fair, then, was a good way for me to recapture a sense ...
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A Quiet Night In
Posted on: March 25, 2009?>
I looked over at his handsome face, his eyes squinting to read the digital cable menu. It was 7pm on a Friday night, but we weren’t going out. Mike had to be at work in the morning. So here we were, in bed with our books and remotes all settled for a quiet night in. “Do you wanna watch Scrubs?” he asked blinking tiredly at me. That’s when I noticed the bags under his eyes. My poor boyfriend was working himself to the point of exhaustion all so I could focus on getting my degree. I couldn’t help myself. I leaned over and kissed him sweetly on the lips. “So that’s a yes on Scrubs?” he said looking amused. “What ever you want is fine with me babe.” I answered as I snuggled in a little closer to him. “For once you don’t have an opinion about what we watch? What’s up?” I laughed and put my head on his shoulder. He was so warm and comfortable, lying in bed in his raggy sweatpants and threadbare t-shirt. For some reason it was all just such a turn on. “I’m just happy to be with you, I honestly don’t care what we watch tonight.” He smiled at me and put his arm around me, running his nails up and down my bare back lazily, after a minute his strokes were becoming a little harder, his hand dipping below the waist band of my pajama pants, over my ass and back up again. ...
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Got Any Quarters?
Posted on: March 25, 2009?>
I overturned the little metal band-aid tin that had been serving as my ‘secret’ coin stash only to see a stream of nickels and dimes pour out into my hand. “Goddamnit, Tim,” I mumbled angrily to myself while shuffling the coins back into their container. At the start of the semester, I figured out that my new roommate, Tim, is a compulsive change-thief. Well, I guess he isn’t a ‘thief’ exactly. Tim takes the quarters out of my change stash and replaces them with an equal value of nickels and dimes. While in his mind he feels this is a perfectly acceptable thing to do, he just doesn’t understand why I get so incensed over the unwitting transaction.”Nickels and Dimes are useless, Tim!” I shout condescendingly every time he tries to defend his actions. “The washers and dryers only take quarters, dumbass. How am I supposed to do my laundry?!” But Tim is the dumb, pretty type. Well, he’s the dumb, pretty, and terribly self-absorbed type. So getting through to him on this matter is pretty much an uphill battle that I’m just not willing to fight. Rather, I have taken to hiding my quarters in various vessels and containers about the room, hoping to keep my stash protected. But, evidently, he’s figured me out this week and found the not-so-empty Band-aid tin that I’d tucked away in my shower caddy. I finished returning the rest of the loose change into its tin and tossed it into the tattered, little, blue ...
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