Hot Summer Day

Based on a real-life incident from the late 1980s, when I was in grad school.

I'd decided to stick around the University for the summer, since I really wanted to finish my dissertation and get the hell out of the decrepit East Coast city I'd called home for nearly five years. It was another stiflingly hot day, the fourth in a row over 90, so I decided to seek refuge in the air-conditioned library where I could concentrate.

I had my walkman on and was reading some boring book when I felt a boner coming on. That wasn't unusual; in those days I would beat off at least three times a day whether or not I had sex. I walked over to the men's room, but it was closed for cleaning. I decided to make my way across the plaza to the student union building, where I could also get a post-orgasm snack.

The heat outside hit me like a heavy wet towel. I moved as quickly as I could, and the sensation of the fabric of my shorts rubbing against the head of my cock made me want to get to my destination even quicker.

I opted for the quieter bathroom on the second floor. The student union building hadn't been remodeled like most of the other buildings on the campus, so air conditioning was pretty spotty, and was nonexistent in the bathrooms. I didn't care. It wouldn't take long for me to get off.

As I entered the bathroom, I was met with that unmistakable smell of piss, cigarette smoke, and a bleachy odor that didn't come from any cleaning products. Nobody else was there, so I chose the end stall, stripped off my shirt and my shorts, and sat on the toilet. I read the new graffiti on the walls, and admired the dried cum drips on the partitions. As was my habit, I scraped off some of the dried cum with my fingernail and licked it off my finger. Pity there wasn't anything fresh, or I would have licked that right off the wall. I'd done it before!

I heard the door to the bathroom open, and someone walked in. I stopped stroking myself, since I usually can't suppress a throaty moan when I came. I prayed that this guy would just be there to piss so I could get off and get the hell out of that stifling room.

No, he wasn't there to piss. He sat down in the stall next to mine and lit up a cigarette. I peeked under the partition and noticed that he was wearing dress shoes and slacks, not the typical student attire of shorts and sandals. I was still peering under the partition when he stood up and faced the wall between us. I heard "psst" coming from above me and looked up to find him poking his head over the partition. "Can you give me a hand with something?"

"Sure," I said, and I stood up, my still-hard cock jutting out before me. I heard him open the stall door, and I opened mine. He pushed it open and I found before me a very tall, handsome guy in his late twenties, with a bushy brown moustache and just a hint of five-o-clock shadow at one in the afternoon, His dress shirt was open about halfway, revealing a very furry chest. He hadn't pulled up his pants before leaving his stall, so poking between the front tails of his dress shirt was a beautiful rock-hard cock, cut, with just a hint of precum at the tip.

I sat down on the toilet again and pulled him close to me. I gingerly licked the precum from his cock, then slowly ran my tongue around the head before taking it all in my mouth.

Damn was it nice! The head was fairly fat and flared, so there was a prominent crown to catch my lips on as I moved back and forth on his dick. I pushed my face deeply into his dense bush and felt his cock fill the front part of my mouth, not quite reaching my tonsils. I grabbed his butt; his buns were surprisingly smooth considering how hairy his chest and bush were, but they fit my hands perfectly.

We were both sweating from the stifling room. We heard the door to the bathroom open, and quickly stopped what we were doing. He leaned forward so his head wouldn't be visible above the stall partitions. Fortunately, the visitor was only there to piss, and he was gone within a minute.

"Let's go somewhere a little more private," my handsome stranger said, bending over to pull up his pants and fasten his belt. He buttoned his shirt, opened the stall door, and stepped out so I could recover my t-shirt and shorts from the hook on the door. He was standing in front of the mirror when I made it out of the stall, and with a knowing look, he led the way out of the bathroom.

The second floor of the student union had a number of meeting and small seminar rooms, all of which were empty during the summer session. We found one that was unlocked and went in, closing the door behind us. I quickly stripped off my skimpy summer outfit while he unbuttoned and removed his shirt and dropped his slacks and boxers to the ground.

His erection had faded, and his cock had pretty much retreated into the thick brown bush. His balls were so hairy they were hard to see under all the fur. I started to get down on my knees, but he shook his head and silently turned me around and had me lean on the conference table. Next thing I knew I felt his bushy moustache between my asscheeks, as his tongue started circling my twitching hole. I'd never been rimmed before, and I thought I had died and gone to heaven!. He gently but insistently probed my hole with his tongue, gradually working his way pretty far in. I was entering a trance-like state.

Then, he turned me around again and took my still-hard cock in his mouth. My dick is a pretty good size, and I'd had problems with inexperienced guys going at it with too much enthusiasm and gagging, but this guy was a pro. He took my cock in to the hilt on the third stroke, held me still, and did something magical with his throat that almost made me cum right then and there. He knew better, and he resumed a steady pace, applying just enough pressure to make the sensation almost unbearable.

He grabbed my balls with one hand and carefully pulled on them. Then he gently pushed his middle finger into my still-slick asshole. Since it was the height of the AIDS crisis, my ass had been off-limits to anyone but myself. To that point I'd never had my ass penetrated by anything but my own index finger, and I didn't really like that a stranger was attempting to finger me. I flinched, but he persisted. Once I relaxed a little, he got the finger fully in my ass, which I found unexpectedly pleasurable. Then he hit my prostate and I saw stars. I nearly blacked out as I gushed load after load into his mouth. He pulled back and the last two shots hit him, one in his moustache, one on his hairy chest.

I barely noticed when he turned and spit my load of cum into the wastebasket behind him. I was still a bit woozy a minute or so later when, with a thumb and forefinger, he rubbed out a nice-sized creamy load onto the carpeted floor.

Without a word, he buttoned up his shirt, pulled up his boxers and slacks, and turned to leave. "Hold on," I said, and he turned to face me again. The glob of my cum was starting to soak through his dress shirt, and the other glob was still in his moustache. I motioned for him to wipe his upper lip and he did with a finger. He looked at the jizz on his finger, stuck it in his mouth, and cleaned it right off. As for his shirt, well, there wasn't much that could be done.

I cruised that bathroom as often as I could during my final year in school, but I never saw him again. I got lucky a few times, including getting to suck a load out of a chubby middle-aged hairy Italian custodian who'd just come to change the paper towels, but it was never like that steamy summer day.

I still beat off from time to time thinking of that guy, wishing I'd had the opportunity to explore him more, to delve into his furry pits, to search for his nipples under the hair on his chest; to eat his ass as he had eaten mine. To lay him down on that table and fuck him. To bend over the table again and have him fuck me. Gets me off every time.