Glancing at the man standing beside me in the urinals, a sexual thrill runs up my spine. I can't help imagining that penis he is holding in his hand, has been inside many women. It has been fucking his wife, or his partner, even a prostitute. Maybe he is thinking the same about my penis. Who knows?. Sometimes I fantasize about playing with other guys cock.
I pull back the skin from the head of his cock. I pull it right back. I stroke his cock. His cock feels hot, and throbbing. He cums real fast, all over my hand. I bend down and take the head of his hot cock in my mouth and suck it clean. He smiles down on me, because no one has ever swallowed his cum. Least of all a man. I am not queer, yet my fantasy doesn't seem to mind.
I am taken back to a story that happened to me, many years ago. I had just turned eighteen. It was evening. Winter time, because it got dark early. I had just finished my cleaning job in the city, and when I walked out onto the lamp-lit street abustle with people. The cold hit me, and I needed to take an urgent piss. Luckily there was an underground toilet outside of the tall building I clean, and so bounded down the stairs, pulled out my piss-filled cock, and began to jet noisily into the urinal. It was one of those porcelain urinals from the early seventies, smelling of stale piss. It was dimly lit, the floor was tiled. Suddenly beside me appeared a young man in his early twenties, sporting a hard on in his hands. He gingerly proffered it to me. I was shocked. No one had ever offered their cock to me before. It was the most beautiful cock I had ever seen. It was plumly circumsized, bursting out of its restraining skin. It was abuzz with youthful, sexual electricity. The purple head flared up at me. The slit winked at me. Touch it, he said to me. There was no one else in the toilet. I was still pissing into the urinal. I stared at it. I was so taken aback, and I was not gay, but was tempted to squeeze the life out of that rearing beast beside me.
