Bathroom Scramble

After a long winter, I'd perfected my sprint to the trains through the underground. Knit between office buildings, our subterranean shopping concourse had first provided a shelter from the snow and the cold, but as the weather improved I was still under the streets heading to my nightly commute at a fast clip. I couldn't say, give a tourist verbal directions, I just knew my way through instinct.

One particular Friday though, I found my regular path blocked with signs and construction hoarding. The detour wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't have to piss like a racehorse. The diversion had blocked my usual pitstop and left me at odds for a place to pee. I could have held it for the train, but didn't want to risk a delay with my full bladder. So I back tracked and started down a smaller hallway scanning the signs for the little bathroom guy. I hadn't really been this way before, so everything was new to me. The relief I had seeing a bathroom sign, would only be second to stepping up to that urinal I figured. Turning into a skinnier hallway though, I found myself on a much longer path than welcome. I hurriedly walked past service entries, rear shop doors and fire exits- the underground was always a maze, and the long ass hallway must have been its spine. Finally I found the door, and pushed it open with a loud metallic groan.

Pushing past a second interior door, I was a little shocked at how busy this bathroom was. I'd ignored my imminent need for a moment to notice the four men who stood scattered around at different urinals, and the pair of feet under a stall. Having not seen anyone in the underground, amongst the closing stores and random commuters, it was weird to suddenly be amongst people in such a small space. I stepped up to a urinal, unzipped and unleashed, embarrassingly letting out a sigh as I emptied myself out. It was as I began to taper off that I surreptitiously shot a glance over to the guy two urinals over and noticed that not only wasn't he peeing, but he looked to be half hard.

Now, its not my thing to stare at other mens cocks. I've spent plenty of time in change rooms to know the etiquette- the mutual not-dick-looking thing we grew up with after getting over the childish whirly birds in swim class. So I figure something must have clicked in my brain as I pissed, to notice the out of the ordinary. I was a bit slow to register, looking at his cock, figuring "this guy's a pervert" to "Isn't he scared to be caught by these other guys?" to then realizing that I was the one caught amongst the perverts. I was the odd man out.

I was not only slow to register what I'd walked into, but slow to realize that I'd stopped peeing, and was now openly staring at this strangers cock. Sensing he had an audience, he began to move his hand over it, pulling back his foreskin to show me his cock head.

I couldn't immediately understand why, but I stood there watching as if it was my polite duty. This stranger had deigned to show me his cock, masturbating for me, and it would have been rude for me to look away... right?

Without even thinking, my hand started to move on its own, finding my own cock had thickened in the time spent watching the other man. I was scared, and excited and ridiculously turned on at the same time. I was subconsciously mirroring him, so when he stepped back from the porcelain, I too leaned onto my rear foot to give him a better look. We stood there, dicks out, a slow mutual jerk off show that lasted until the guy in the stall poked his head out to watch. The spell was suddenly broken, and my face flushed red hot.

I stuffed myself into my pants, muttering a barely coherent apology. My internal monologue was a singular scream as I dashed out the door and retraced my steps, eventually finding a path to my train. Oddly enough, the entire 45 minute commute to my house, my wife, my kids, the trip back to my life - it wasn't taken up by guilt and self-shaming, but rather fantasizing about what it would have ben like if I'd dropped to me knees on that tiled floor and...

* * * *

The weekend back in the suburbs was as normal as can be. Getting woken up by the kids, dividing up chores, doing errands- just normal life shit. It wasn't until after dinner when we put the kids to bed, and I headed to the garage that I had free time to think to myself.

I was fixing the vacuum, and had it up on my workbench when my mind began to drift back to the bathroom incident. I remembered the smell of bleach, piss and mustiness. I started to read the vacuum manual before I realized I had been rubbing the front of my sweat pants against the edge of the workbench. Looking down, I marvelled at the obscene bulge I'd created, and had a quick thought.

Eyes trained at the door to the house, I stepped out of my slippers and put my thumbs in the waistband of my sweats. In one quick motion, I pulled them down along with my briefs, my cock springing out into view. I stepped out of each leg and straightened up, hastily pulling my underwear out of the sweats. I tossed them onto the bench, then stepped back into my pants. I looked down at my more obvious bulge, and returned to rubbing it against the side of the bench. At that point, I found it too distracting to read the manual, so I tossed it onto the table and looked at my crumpled up briefs. Looking at the door once again, I picked up my underwear, balling it up and pressing to my nose. Is this what we smell like? I breathed deep and tried to ignore the scent of soap and laundry detergent, looking for something...dirtier.

I moved the fabric way from my face and looked down at the disassembled vacuum cleaner. I can't fix this I reasoned, grabbing my flannel jacket and a cap. I stepped to the car as I texted my wife "Going to the depot, need anything?"

* * * *

I sped off into the night, slipping over the highway and past our closest hardware big box. I wanted to go North, where the depot was attached to the mall. I drove the extra ten minutes while the radio played '80s rock and pulled into the emptying mall parking lot. My cock had softened from the garage, but without the confines of underwear, swung visually under the ties of my sweats as I stepped out from the car.

Conscious thought left my head while I instinctually scanned my surroundings. Were there lots of people around? Where was security? Was that bathroom too busy looking? Was that one not busy enough? I saw the big orange hardware store entrance in one direction, but a bathroom sign in the opposite, so I turned and tried to appear nonchalant.

One door, then another, I strode into the bathroom and casually looked around. There was one guy at the distant urinal, so I walked up to the other end, leaving a space between us, and pulled the front of my sweats down. I urgently tried to pee while using my peripheral vision to see if the other guy reacted. But just as I started to flow, the other guy zipped up and went off to wash his hands. I continued to piss as he left, and I started to feel a bit dejected. This was dumb, I thought, Its a Saturday night in the burbs after all. I'd heard the door open and shut as the other guy left and had just started to tap the last few dribbles of piss off my dick when I felt the presence of another.

I stood there frozen, with my dick in hand as this other man stepped up to the urinal next to me. That had to be a sign right? He didn't take the far one, leaving space between us after all. I heard him release a stream into the porcelain and stole a glance. His cock was thick and brown, his pubes looked trimmed from what I could see.

But all the same, he was actively pissing. How am I to read that? He stood directly beside me, but is here to piss. I mean, I actually pissed too, and I'm here for...

Things got quiet as his stream died off, and I could see him shaking off out of the corner of my eye. Things moved incredibly slow as I could feel him just barely move his head in my direction. I had essentially been standing there the entire time he was pissing, dick in hand without releasing a drop. I had no clue how he was interpreting my presence now- either as an oddity or a signal. Moving in the tiniest of motions, I stepped back on my heel as i ran my hand over the length of my shaft. Without moving my head, I cast my eyes in his direction and could see he was now looking at my bare cock.

Take that in for a moment.

I was standing in a pubic bathroom, no underwear, pulling myself off and showing my cock to a stranger, putting myself at his mercy and interest.

Just like that, panic set off in my head and I snapped the waistband of my sweats back up and bolted from the bathroom without washing my hands. I dashed to the hardware store and lost myself in the aisles, pretending to browse while pushing my erection downwards and trying to cover up with the tails of my flannel jacket. My heart was racing as I avoided aisles with people and tried to unscramble my thoughts, which were a mix of horniness and abject fear. The minute I stumbled upon the mens room for the store, I practically ran in.

Two urinals and a handicapped stall. I stepped into the stall and closed the door, yanking my pants down and sitting on the toilet almost immediately. My cock was rock hard, blushed and veiny. I grabbed at it thinking about what I'd just done, exposing myself like that in such a risky fashion. Now I was in a public bathroom about to jerk off onto myself. I spread my legs and enjoyed the freedom as the fabric fell to my ankles. I pulled my shirt up as my face twisted into ecstasy and I furiously pulled at my dick. The first shot hit my cheek and glanced onto the wall, the second right up my t-shirt. I stifled a long deep moan as my cum continued to spurt out onto my hairy belly. I watched it pool in my belly button and spill out onto my hips in a dribbling fashion, before regaining reason and quickly grabbing wads of cheap toilet paper and beginning the clean up.

I wiped jizz off the wall, off my shirt and my body, carefully inspecting my jacket for any signs of release. I crumpled up some tissue at the end of my leaking dick so I wouldn't soil the front of my sweats.I tried to get everything back to normal, before pulling my pants up, washing my hands and heading out into the store.

"We will be closing in 10 minutes, please bring your purchases up to the cashier..."

I found and bought a new vacuum, wondering if I smelled like cum to the sales guy at cash. I got in my car and drove home, showering and kissing my wife goodnight before bed.

I'd put the whole evening out of mind until I went to do laundry the next day, and found some crumpled toilet tissue in my sweatpants. With an eye to the laundry room door, I brought the tissue to my face and inhaled.

* * * *

The next few days at work were uneventful, Monday was like every other Monday, we had rain Tuesday and Wednesday, lunch on a patio with colleagues on Thursday. I'd raced the underground path system most days as I was running late and didn't want to miss my train. I was back on my routine, without having to give a thought to anything out of the ordinary.

But when it came to Friday, and that familiar sense of "here's the weekend, time to let loose" returned, so did my curiosity.

So even heading in that morning on the train, I knew what I was going to do.

By lunch I was practically counting the hours.

By 4pm, it was fait accompli. I was going to put myself in THAT situation again.

There was unspoken reasoning that all the same people would be there again, as if on schedule. It was equally ridiculous as it was possible that these men would habitually return to the same place at the same time just to get off with a stranger, but on the singular experience i'd had- I was willing to give it a shot.

By the time work finished, I'd calmly packed up and headed out, taking the elevator to the underground path system. I'd kind of regretted the shoulder bag I had to tote along with, but had grabbed the smallest one I could today for my lunch. It swung loosely as I strode through my regular route. Coming to the construction hoarding, I swallowed hard and looked around. It was nice out, so there were very few people indoors. I turned and headed towards the quiet hallway and its busy bathroom. Finally, I took the long back hallway past service entries, and pushed the heavy, noisy doors.

I was greeted with the sight of one other person, and a pair of feet under a stall.

Maybe it was a quick judgement call, or fear- but instead of taking the urinal beside the lone man, I stepped behind the wall and took up my position there. Fuck. Had I ruined my chances already? Fuck... Stick with it, I told myself. I unzipped and slipped my cock out into the open.

I felt stupid, because I didn't have to piss, so standing there with my cock out just waiting- Ugh, I felt like such an idiot. How do other guys do this, I wondered. I was starting to get super self conscious and fought the urge to bolt, while trying to peer around the wall to see what the other guy was doing. Just as I thought I'd zip back up, I heard the metallic groan of the outer door.

Fear shot through my spine and I tried my best to appear as an innocent pisser. I practically pressed my body against the urinal and stared dead ahead at the tile wall. I heard the new entrant on the other side of the wall shuffle about, before he came around and took space at the urinal beside me. Holy fuck. Was this it?

I eased away from the wall and looked to my side. I spied a stout pink cock in a wrinkled hand. There were the blurred remnants of an old tattoo on his thumb. The man was pissing, but had stood at a fair distance from the urinal, almost as an invitation to watch. My eyes moved up a dense forearm, to a blue work shirt. I moved my head slightly to look the other man in the face, realizing he had his eyes on me the entire time. He was older than me, paunchier, and his hair was thin and grey on top. He wore a serious salt and pepper moustache, and had intent in his blue eyes. I turned my body towards him with my hand under my growing cock. He looked down, and shook piss from his dick, beginning a slow massage for my benefit.

Here I was, jerking off with an older man in a public bathroom.

We stood beside each other, cocks in hand, moving our glances from face to crotch trying to size each other up. I must have looked dumbly caught up in the moment, because the older gentleman reached over with his hand to take mine and move it to his dick. As I grasped his stiff, spongy member, he took my dick and squeezed until I moaned. We'd turned our bodies to face one another, so I hadn't noticed the other guy in the bathroom sidle up alongside us with his own dick out. This guy was a short East Indian with dark skin and thick rimmed glasses, kind of reminding me of a science teacher I once had. He managed to snake his hand in between my legs to painfully grab at my balls. All of the different sensations were driving me insane, but managed to keep me from cumming. The minute I'd get close, a ball tug would pull me from the edge.

I guess it was me getting lost in the moment, but I'd released my grip on the first guys cock which seemed to change my role in the game. I was now a recipient, a toy. I was slightly hunched over with my eyes in slits and my mouth agape, which was enough of an invite for the older man to grab my face with his free hand and shove his tongue in my mouth. It was rough- and I could taste mint in his saliva as he probed me with his tongue. The assault on my cock and balls never slowed, so I found myself moaning into the older mans mouth. When he withdrew, my face was being pulled downward to his erection, and I swallowed it greedily.

Bent in half, sucking my first cock, I felt my pants being loosened and pulled down to my ankles, my ass exposed. Two hands pulled my cheeks apart, and I could feel the first gob of spit hit my tight pucker. The tongue that followed blew my fucking mind apart. I'd never had my asshole played with let alone licked, so every nerve ending down there exploded in pleasure. My knees buckled and I was glad that my dick had been left alone, because I would have shot loads right then and there. I furiously sucked the older man's cock as the East Indian guy licked and fingered my ass.

When my body started to give out and I lowered to my knees, the two men above me had started to unbutton my dress shirt, and then pull it off me. Naked but for my pants and underwear around my ankles, I felt the cold tile on my knees and smelled the piss from the urinals now at face level. I looked up and had two dicks in my face. I would suck one, while the other slapped me. In all the action, a stall door had opened, and a round asian man watched in relative safety while jerking his own cock.

Finally, the two men who stood over me withdrew their cocks to begin jerking off over my face. I barely had a moment to miss their taste before I started to feel their wetness. Strings of pre-cum roped across my lips before I closed my eyes to the dripping mess that glazed my face in seconds. The warm seed covered my eyes, nose and chin. I clenched my lips shut out of instinct, but could still taste cock in my mouth. When I was fully covered, there was some brief cock slapping before I felt someone wiping my eyes with what turned out to be my shirt.

The East Indian man was hurriedly tucking himself in, and heading out the door as I regained my senses. The older man stood there with his limp cock hanging out of his pants, wiping his hands off with some toilet paper. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to say something to him, but I looked around the room and found that in all the activity, two other men had come in and had been jerking off at the scene. One was a taller older white guy with glasses, the other a short bald guy with a gut. The short guy brought his thick piece over to me and I instinctively began to nurse it. Bleary eyed I could see the taller man come over and replace his friend, lifting me to the level of his cock.

Bent over, I felt someone at my ass, hands on my waist as they tried to push past my sphincter. I yelped and tried to swat him away while my mouth was full. He took that as a sign and seemed to settle for nestling his dick between my ass cheeks and humping at me. Admittedly, it actually felt good, and almost made me beg to be fucked. The three of us worked up a rhythm, and I felt a hand reach around to grab my own cock, which stiffened at the touch. We moved in unison for a few seconds, before losing coordination, and starting again. The man feeding me his cock pulled out and softly moaned as he shot across my face, mingling his seed with the drying remnants of my original benefactors. It got in my eyes and stung like hell.

The man shoved his cum covered cock in my mouth, giving me one last spurt as I unleashed my own load on the floor. The man from behind sped his handiwork up, unaware of how sensitive I was after cumming, and soon after he was shooting up the back of my asscrack, I could feel the slime on my back and over my hole. As I blindly reached around for my shirt, I could hear people moving about and zippers being done up. When I opened my eyes, everyone but the asian guy in the stall had vacated. He closed his door when I glanced over, which is when the fear hit me.

I gathered my things and darted into a handicapped stall, safely out of the open. Wad after wad of toilet paper used to clean myself up, while I examined the state of my clothes. My pants weren't in terrible shape, but my shirt was an obvious mess. My mind raced as I tried to figure a way out of my predicament. The first thing I could think of was to fish my phone out of my bag and text my wife that I'd be home late. There would have to be a greater explanation later, but in the safety of my stall, all I could do was think of how badly I wanted to get fucked.