I had to take a piss, and soon, or I probably wouldn't have thought to stop at the hospital to make use of their public facilities. I had been trying to get out on a day labor job, but traffic was slow and those who were looking for manual labor chose to take the illegal immigrants because they figured they could get away with paying them lower wages.
I walked away deciding that I'd try the new Employment Office that had been opened at one of the nearby homeless shelters for the purpose of hiring out day labor jobs that came in. Those jobs were rumored to be good paying and verified to not stiff you at the end of the day. I had avoided it because it took me one step closer to homelessness, something I was busting my ass off to avoid. After a series of bad relationships eventually found me on the streets, I got a room at a cheap hotel downtown and worked like a dog to keep it.
Entering at a side door of the hospital, I was relieved to see a bathroom sign just at the edge of a small waiting room that was empty of patients or personnel. I pushed my way into the small, quiet room and sidled up to the only urinal, which was located next to the only stall. The sink, topped with a clean mirror, was to my back. That's how small the room was.
As I stood at the urinal, someone else entered the bathroom. I looked in his direction and gave him a quick apologetic smile. He was a young Latino, somewhere in his twenties, with perfectly styled hair, large puppy dog brown eyes and bee stung cupid's bow lips. He was thin, but not particularly skinny, and well dressed in a white dress shirt and black slacks. His dress shoes were well-polished and shiny.
In comparison, I was wearing faded jeans and a nearly clean white t-shirt that didn't smell particularly dirty when I picked up off the floor that morning. My work boots had seen better days, but they were broken in and comfortable, and I planned on wearing them until they fell apart.
I finished my business and moved to the sink to wash my hands while the other guy went to stand in front of the urinal. At the sink, I used the mirror to catch a quick look at his ass. The way his slacks hung from it, it looked nice and round but small, which fit his frame. As I was checking him out, he turned and looked back at me over his shoulder. I could tell from the movement of his arm that he wasn't pissing.
I looked at myself in the mirror. My dark auburn hair was a mess of short curls, my face unshaven, my blue eyes starting to show my age. My body was hard with muscle from working day labor jobs, my forearms covered with a mass of freckles from exposure to the sun. To say I had a farmer's tan was an understatement. I was lucky to not be sunburned.
I considered the situation I was certain I was being presented with. Normally, I would just saunter over to him and suck him off, but I was growing tired of servicing every horned up stranger I met without getting any attention in return. Although I had had my fair share of dick over the past thirty-three years, I had only been blown three times in my life and I had only fucked two guys. One of whom was stoned and just curious about what it was like. He eventually made me stop, complaining that my cock was too big. It didn't seem all that big to me, but it did measure eight inches in length with a five and a half inch circumference. Not to brag, but it's a nice cock for a guy who can't seem to get anyone interested in it.
