Revised version copyright 2006 by the author.
I never used to believe that saying about bad things coming in threes. But when I lost my wife and my job in the same week, I began to wonder what was going to hit me next.
There's nothing like hindsight. Often after the fact you can look back and tell yourself you should have seen it coming. But I was honestly shocked when my wife fell in love with someone else and asked for a divorce. Sure, our love life hadn't been great lately, but she had never been wild about sex even when we were dating. When I said this to her the night she left, she shook her head.
"I was always crazy for you, Roy. You were the one who wasn't interested. I thought something was wrong with me. Now I know that's not true. I've met someone who loves me and who thinks I'm the hottest thing around."
No hard feelings, she added, kissing me on the cheek. Then she walked out the door and left me to pick up the pieces.
Getting laid off, though, shouldn't have come as a surprise. My company hadn't been doing well for months. The downturn that started last fall really hit us hard. Still, I didn't think my own job was in danger, even though they took me off some important projects and fired my assistants.
My wife left on a Tuesday night. When I walked into my area vice-president's office that Friday morning and saw the look on his face, I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. All of a sudden I knew that my bad week was about to get worse.
He tried to be nice about it. He offered me a generous severance package and promised to give me good references. I found out later that he had been let go himself soon after he'd given me the ax.
I came home that afternoon to an empty silent house. I carried the boxes of stuff that I had cleaned out of my office from my car to the front hallway, put them on the floor and went to the couch in the living room. For the next several hours I sat, not moving, until it was dark. Finally I went to the bedroom that my wife and I had shared until recently. Without bothering to get undressed I lay down in the middle of the king-sized bed and stared at the ceiling until I fell asleep.
I forced myself to get up and eat the next morning, but I walked around the house for the next few days in a daze. I felt as if someone had punched me in the gut. Everything I had worked for and believed in had turned to ashes. I had failed both at my job and at my marriage. What was I going to do?
My cell phone rang once in a while, filling up with messages from friends and co-workers who had heard what had happened to me and were concerned. Finally I turned it off. I didn't respond to their messages or call any of them back.
A few days later an idea came to me. It was evening and the Texas summer heat had subsided. I had walked outside and was staring at my dark blue Jeep Cherokee sitting in the driveway. It was almost new--I had bought it last year, when things were still going well--and in great shape. I could drive it anywhere I wanted. I had money in my pocket, for the time being, at least. Why not get away from this mess for a few days, a week maybe, do some thinking on the road? Maybe then I could figure out how to get on with my life.
The next morning I called and had my paper delivery suspended. That day I ran a few errands that I needed to do before leaving. In the evening I packed a few clothes and essentials in an overnight bag for my planned departure the next day.
The morning dawned bright and sunny. I walked out the door with my luggage, such as it was. Hearing it slam shut behind me gave me a hollow feeling--it was as if a whole chapter was closing in my life. As I was throwing the bag in the back of my SUV I saw my next-door neighbor leaving for work--the lucky guy still had a job. I told him I was going out of town for a few days and asked him to keep an eye on the house.
"Going on a vacation with the missus?" he asked, smiling.
"No, alone. My wife left me last week," I said. He blinked and promised to take care of things.
That was all I had to do. Soon I was driving out of Austin, heading north, armed with a sixpack of bottled water and a few roadmaps. I left the cell phone sitting on the living room table. I kept my eyes on the road and drove carefully. Other than that, I let my thoughts wander. But no revelations came to me, at least not that day.
By late afternoon I was well into the Panhandle, driving in hot, dusty and flat country. The dreary scenery matched my mood. I had to take a leak real bad--drinking all that water had caught up with me. I began looking for somewhere to stop. After some miles I saw a roadside rest stop, just a small turnoff with some picnic tables, vending machines, and rest rooms. Attempts at landscaping the area had long since succumbed to the unrelenting sun.
No one else was parked in the lot when I pulled in. I stopped in front of the men's room and hurried inside to the urinal. I barely got unzipped before releasing what felt like a gallon of pee. As the painful pressure against my bladder eased I heaved a sigh of relief.
As the stream slowed to a trickle another sensation came to my mind. It felt good holding my cock, and I realized how long it had been since I'd gotten off. Julie and I hadn't had sex for months while our marriage crumbled, and in my depressed state since she had left me I hadn't even felt like masturbating. Now for the first time in quite a while I felt horny. I gave my penis a few tentative strokes and felt it begin to swell in my hand. I hadn't heard any other cars pull up and I was quite sure I was alone at the rest stop. Still, I hesitated, uneasy about doing it out in the open.
There were two urinals side by side in the small men's room, and two wooden stalls with toilets along the same wall a bit further from the entrance. If I was going to jack off it would be safer behind a closed door. I pushed open the door of the stall nearest the urinals, lowered my trousers and sat on the toilet. The sharp smell of disinfectant hit my nostrils but somehow this only made me hornier.
My cut cock sprang straight up when it was freed, already leaking clear fluid. I began to stroke it, spreading the precum over the head and shaft, spitting into my hand and adding it for more lubrication. Damn, that felt good. It wouldn't take me long at this rate.
At that moment I heard the sound of a running motor approaching. Another car had entered the rest area and pulled up close to the restroom entrance. The driver killed the engine and in a moment I heard footsteps enter the men's room. Despite the fact that he couldn't possibly see me, I was embarrassed and stopped what I was doing.
The unknown man went to one of the urinals. As I waited for him to do his business and leave my eyes roved around the walls of the stall. In the harsh fluorescent light I saw that someone had gouged a small hole in the left wall, above the roll of toilet paper. If I looked through it I could get a view of whoever was at the urinal.
Suddenly I was consumed by curiosity. I hadn't been naked with anyone in a locker room or shower for years. I wanted to see someone else's organ, compare it with my own. I leaned forward as quietly as I could and put my eye to the peephole.
Whoever had made the hole had done it with this exact purpose in mind. I couldn't see his face, but otherwise I had a perfect view of the unknown man standing at the urinal farthest from the stall. He was wearing a striped dress shirt and khaki pants. A strong hand with sparse black hair growing on the back gripped the cock that stuck out from his fly. It was circumcised and even in its soft state it was impressive, with a healthy pink head, out of which a thick golden stream made its way into the urinal. I could hear splashing noises as it hit the rubber guard at the bottom.
My breathing was coming fast and shallow. My cock, which had softened somewhat when I stopped jerking it, was fully hard again. There was something exciting and naughty about spying on someone's private act this way. My eye was glued to the peephole, and almost without realizing it my hand began to move again on my own cock as I watched the stranger finish taking his leak.
He shook his organ once or twice and flushed. With disappointment I knew the show was over and he would leave in a moment. I hadn't cum yet and the pressure in my loins was stronger than ever. Once he left I would finish myself off and hopefully get some relief from the sexual tension built up over months.
I had taken my eye from the peephole, as twisting my body had become uncomfortable. After a moment I realized to my surprise that I had heard no further sounds, no footsteps or running water indicating the man was washing his hands. He hadn't left. In fact, he hadn't moved.
Cautiously I peered out the hole again. The unknown man was still standing in front of the urinal. His fly was unzipped and his cock was still out. It wasn't soft any more, though. It was stiff and erect as he stroked it slowly with his hairy hand.
With a shock I realized that he knew I was watching him and was putting on a show for me. I had half a mind to zip up quickly and run out the door, get away from this pervert. I couldn't move, though. It was as if my butt were glued to the toilet seat and my eye to the peephole. I took hold of my own hard cock and began to stroke it in unison with my faceless companion.
He continued to work his penis, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, now and then shaking it up and down by the root. He pulled out his hairy ball sack as well, fondling it with one hand as he masturbated with the other. I felt myself getting close and slowed my pace down, not wanting to shoot my load before him.
My anonymous partner's hand began to move faster and faster on his shaft. Soon I heard harsh gasps outside my stall. The man's body bucked back and forth. He thrust his hips toward the urinal, aiming his cock at it as white spurts shot from its head and hit the porcelain. By now I was in a fever of excitement and the sight of his ejaculation pushed me over the edge. A muffled groan of pleasure escaped my clenched jaw as I released my own load into the toilet bowl. I heard soft splashes as the semen shot from my cock and hit the water beneath.
As I caught my breath I heard the urinal being flushed,then the sound of running water and a paper towel being torn from the dispenser. Quick footsteps tapped past the stall, then I heard a motor roar to life outside. By the time I had cleaned myself up, flushed the toilet, pulled up my pants and stepped out of the stall, the man was gone. I had never seen his face.
Some time later I was back on the road, thinking about what had happened. I had always walked the straight path in life, had never had any experiences with other men. So what did that scene back at the rest stop mean? I hadn't made any real contact with the man. I wouldn't recognize him if I saw him on the street. I told myself it had been an aberration, an impulsive act caused by my horniness and recent stress.
