The situation was awkward at best; I stood nearly nude in a public restroom - butt-fucking a nearly butt-naked stranger - when our sexual reverie was interrupted by the noisy opening of the door...
My heart began to race. After a moment's hesitation, I turned toward the entry. The figure of an elderly man stood motionless. His form was darkened in the comparatively bright glare of the daylight behind him.
"Oh dear God..." he rasped, and backed away as though having witnessed the aftermath of a particularly gruesome mass murder.
My dick shriveled instantly, breaking my union with my newfound friend. I yanked up my pants, zipped and buckled up, and Mr. Furball scurried into a stall, noisily slamming the door behind him.
My shirt was across the room, near the faltering man who continued backing away. I suddenly felt very cold. Horrible noises emanated from the stall as my fuck-buddy purged and cleaned quite audibly.
"It's OK," I offered feebly, thinking the guy might have a coronary on the spot. He said nothing more, but continued to back away and through the door which had not closed fully. I watched as the man staggered through the snow to his empty car.
"He's leaving," I announce to Mr. Furball. More noises from the stall.
"Good." he gasped.
I grabbed my shirt, still damp, and sniffed it. It didn't smell very presentable. Taking it to the sink, I began to wash it aggressively. Despite the presence of both hot and cold faucets, only cold water came out. I used hand soap to wash, and rinsed thoroughly before wringing it out as tightly as possible.
Returning to the hand dryer, I turned the grille to warm both myself and the wrinkled shirt. Mr. Furball emerged from the stall and washed his hands.
"That was fun," he said, "but I guess it's time to go." "Yup," I agreed, "that was kind of what I was thinking."
He gave me a small card. "I'm Jim," he said. "Gimme a call sometime." I told him my name as I took the card. He gave me a final kiss which I returned vigorously. We explored each other's mouths for a few luxurious moments before he broke our embrace.
"Be careful out there!" he said, and turned to disappear into the still-raging snowstorm.
Left alone, the concrete building seemed colder than before. I struggled for what seemed an eternity to dry my shirt but progress was slight. The shirt was warm, though not fully dry, when I hurried into it. I just wanted to get back on the road as quickly as possible. I tucked it in and walked over to the stall to retrieve my coat as the monotone weather forecast continued to drone from above.
Panic flooded over me as the outside door opened once again. I whirled, expecting to see the old man, or the highway patrol, or some other unwanted diversion.
"Hi! Nice weather today, huh?"
I was stunned to see a tall, good-looking guy of about 30 sporting a big mustache and several days of stubble.
"Yeah, great..." I said blankly. My horniness returned quickly.
I was stunned as he calmly unzipped his pants and pulled out his long and stiffening dick. "I need this sucked off." he announced casually, and looked me in the eye knowingly. "You've been here a while;" he continued, " and your car is covered with snow. You been sucking a lot of cock today?" He stared straight into my eyes with a taunting look.
This has got to be a trap, I thought. He's a cop. This is too weird. I worked myself into my coat silently, trying to figure out a response.
"Just taking a shit," I said. I started to leave when he grabbed my arm.
"Suck me, faggot!"
