Roger drove down the street, slowly, searching for a place to park. Even though there was a parking lot with quite a few empty spots, he wasn't quite ready to pull in there. Yet. He'd heard stories and rumors about "The Lot" for years – ever since he'd moved to the little beach city, but he'd never been there. It always seemed so ... unsafe ... to him. But since he'd been single – dumped by his loser boyfriend having a "mid-life crisis" at the age of 39. John had up and left Roger after nearly 5 years together, opting for a "younger model" to go with the typical red sports car.
Roger did have to admit, however, that John's new toy – Gil – was a cutie. But at 22 and still in school, Roger didn't think that John and Gil would have much in common, let alone last. They just didn't have enough in common – from what Roger knew. Gil was the typical little twenty-something club kid – his hair and clothes were always "just so" and he was always looking for the next "ever-so-trendy" and current outfit. Roger had seen Gil around town in some of the bars, before, always dressed in whatever had last graced the cover of the fashion rags.
"The Lot", however, is where Roger's attention was now. It was a notorious place for cruising; to get a quick, down-n-dirty bj in the car or maybe a quick "wham-bam, thanks, Sam" session over on the sand by the lifeguard towers. Or just a place to pick up some guy, take him back to his place – or yours – and get a little bit more going on in a slightly less public spot.
But for some, the thrill was actually in the "maybe-we'll-get-caught" aspect of doing it right there in the sand or in the car.
Roger slowed down even more, thinking he saw a space on the street just a few car lengths up. He wanted to watch The Lot from afar at first – just to see what the people were like and what the ... rules ... seemed to be. Since this was his first time there, he didn't want to unknowingly make any mistakes that would show him to be a "lot Virgin".
He pulled into the space and shut off the car. He peered out the windows at The Lot.
There were about 2 dozen cars in spots and another half dozen circling around. Some of the parked cars were side by side, parked to that the drivers could easily chat between the cars. Every once in a while, one of the circling cars would pull in next to a parked car, or a parked car would leave. Roger guessed it was a lot like "barstool roulette" where you'd sit next to somebody and if there was a connection, you'd start talking and maybe go to the next step. If no connection, you'd get up and move on to the next open guy.
He noticed when two side by side cars started up and took off, one following the other. They were probably off to somebody's home to have some good times. A few minutes later, he saw one of the circlers stop, park and get out. He stepped up to another car, made a motion with his head. Moments later, the guy in the parked car got out and followed the circler to the bathroom building a few hundred feet away.
Roger also noticed some guys on bikes, some on skates and some joggers that would stop and stretch or maybe relax on the wall between the lot and the beach. They'd get approached by others on foot or in parked cars and chat up a bit.
For Roger, it was as fascinating to watch as anything. He'd always been a people watcher and a student of human nature. He could find hours of study of the way that guys did the "mating dance" in the bars and sex clubs to be almost as enjoyable as the sex itself. Well, maybe almost was too strong. Sometimes. OK, maybe very occasionally, when there was a blue moon and the month ended in a "Y".
But still, it was something more interesting than the videos or sports playing on the bar TVs.
Roger was also interested in the guys that were there. He saw a big range of guys – from older to the barely-18 looking set; muscle gods to lazy bears, chubs, cubs, otters, twinks and more – all over the place. And all looking to get a little action. Some of the twinkie boys were in a bigger group – maybe 8 or 10 of them, surrounding one car, with music playing loud enough that Roger could hear the bass beats from his own car. Sometimes a circler would cruise by slowly, and a twink or two would go talk to him. But usually, the car would drive away and he'd see the twinkies laughing a bit after the car was gone.
Roger was also surprised at the cars he saw in The Lot. While most of them were ... typical ... average ... and decidedly "everyday" kinds of rides, he spotted a few high-end models – there was the Mercedes sedan that still had the dealership signs instead of license plates, the Lincoln SUV and some kind of Lexus sedan. Of course, there were also the old clunkers and junkers and even a few soccer-mom mini-vans, but the guys behind the wheels could never be considered "soccer-moms". There was even a small RV parked in one of the spots, with a small truck parked next to it. Roger wasn't sure, but it looked like that RV would rock back and forth every once in a while...
Roger noticed one of the other cars – a red Mustang convertible – cruise the lot. It made him look, because that was the kind of car John had bought just before he hooked up with Gil. The Mustang pulled into a space and parked. The top was down and from what Roger could see, it wasn't John or Gil, so he didn't have to worry about what would happen if they'd showed up.
After about a half an hour or people watching, Roger had enough of his courage built up to take a cruise through The Lot. He figured he'd take a cruise or two through and then, if anything was interesting, he'd take up a spot. Maybe he'd park closer to the beach so it wouldn't appear that he was only here for the quick trick. Even though that's he was there for.
He pulled his car around, drove into The Lot and began this new ... adventure.
During his first cruise through The Lot, he noticed a few more things that he couldn't see from his vantage on the street. There was only a few hundred feet of parking lot between the street and the beach, but that was enough to hide a few things. Like the more subtle rocking of the older Cadillac and the bobbing of the passenger's head in the driver's lap; or the fact that a few of the parkers and at least one of the circlers weren't wearing a shirt – and maybe not anything else, either.
He drove around the lot – taking more notice of the red Mustang and the driver. He had dark hair and wore a full beard and mustache. He looked to be maybe in his 30s, and his face was rugged and attractive. He was wearing a t-shirt and was taking hits from a water bottle. Roger didn't want to appear to be staring and he continued driving slowly by.
He could see ahead that the new Mercedes sedan was stopped behind the group of twinkie boys, and two of them were leaning in to the open windows. Obviously, they were impressed by the big Benz and by the driver. He could hear more of their techno dance music and saw that two of them were on the front of the car, making out. He drove on by, catching a glimpse of the driver of the Benz. Decided older and he looked well maintained – so he had to be a GWM – Guy With Money, as they said in "Kiss Me, Guido".
Roger reached the end of the row and turned to head back up the next aisle. There were a few more parked cars here, and he caught a few glances as he cruised past. He pulled to the end of the aisle and turned back into the first, completing his circuit. He slowed past the red Mustang again, catching another glimpse of the driver and feeling at least a little more intrigued.
But, suddenly, as nature often does, he got "a call" and realized he had to hit the bathroom down at the far end. So he cruised on down, pulled into a spot and parked. He got out and walked across the sand to the bathroom structure. He stepped into the bathroom and stopped.
He was a bit ... shocked ... to hear the loud moaning coming from one of the stall areas. Since the building was all hard surfaces – concrete floor, brick walls, stainless steel walls and toilets and sinks, there was nothing to muffle the noise. And since the stalls had no doors, he could catch a glimpse of the one guy every few seconds, as he backed up to ram his cock into the guy he was fucking in the toilet. There was another guy standing just beyond them, rubbing his very hard dick through his very snug and thin shorts. This other guy glanced at Roger, but then returned to watching the show.
Roger was a bit put off by the sex happening right there in the open. He'd been to sex clubs and bath-houses before, so he was used to the concepts of 'public sex' – but this was just a step above. I mean, you had to present your ID and often pay a fee to get into the sex clubs, and everybody that was there did the same. Here, anybody could just walk right in and see what was going on.
But then he noticed that his dick was starting to harden up. So maybe part of the thrill was that they could be seen by anybody at anytime.
He quickly stepped up to the urinal and pulled his stiffening cock out and let fly. He kept hearing the guys in the stall going at it and even the watcher seemed to be getting more into it, as he started breathing hard and groaning some. Roger concentrated on his own dick and draining it and tried to block out the sounds and mental images in his head.
He could easily see the two guys in the stall in his head. Of course, having only glimpsed one of the guys, he had no idea of what they looked like, but that didn't stop his mind from imagining two of his favorite porn stars – Colton Ford and Zak Spears – from taking center stage in his head. Just like if he was standing on the set of a porn shoot, his head immersed in the scene.
In his head, the graffiti on the concrete walls was more artistic and less rushed – more like a painting in an art gallery. One of the images showed a guy sucking the cock of another guy.
And the lettering was more finished. The steel fixtures were polished and gleaming, not grungy and dented, as in real life. And the stall walls were further apart and the glory holes were nicely finished. In Roger's head, all porn shoots were big-budget spectaculars with impeccable sets and lighting.
The one wall of the stall that was blocking his view in real life was replaced by no wall in the porn of his mind. His view of Zak and Colton was clear and unobstructed. It was great seeing those two studs in action, their firm and furry bodies gliding against each other, lips meeting and tongues darting in and out of their mouths. And then, of course, there were glorious asses and hard cocks, all mingled together in a blissful orgy of sex that his mind kept in constant motion.
Of course, these thoughts were certainly not helping with the real reason he'd come into the bathroom. Roger focused again on the urinal and finishing up. As he shook the last drops off his dick, he glanced over his shoulder. The watcher was had pulled his dick out of his shorts and was yanking and pulling with gusto.
His breathing was fast, shallow and filled with grunts. He was close. His body stiffened and he leaned back against the wall and stroked a few more times and then shuddered and let fly a load of cum, splattering against the stall wall and even some on the back of the guys in the stall.
Roger turned and watched the scene, his cock still hardening in his clothes. In his head, Zak and Colton took up their positions again, going for broke and working hard for his enjoyment.
The watcher's cock drained of his cum, leaving puddles on the floor. He opened his eyes, looked at Roger and smiled. Roger smiled back. Watcher licked some cum off of his fingers and put his cock back in his shorts. With a wink at Roger, he turned and left the room through the other door. Of course, the two guys were still grunting and rutting in the stall, and Roger couldn't decide if he should stay and watch or turn and go.
After a minute, he decided to head back out to his car. He didn't want to stand in the bathroom and jack his own cock watching the two guys; he wanted to feel another man's touch.
Roger walked back to his car and was passed by another couple of guys heading to the bathroom. He wondered how the current activities in the bathroom would change with the new additions.
