Some itches just can't be scratched that easily.
My mind is always in turmoil at the lie I've chosen to live. It's like somewhere along the way, my life splintered in two directions, side-by-side, that I controlled simultaneously.
The weeks went on, and I resisted the temptation to visit that little hidden away toilet block that would conveniently sate such an itch.
But then the impossible happened.
Vivek, and Marianne decided we should enjoy the early summer with a barbeque in the sun.
At my local park.
At the barbecue facilities right next to that toilet block.
We went of course, and I had my back to it the entire time, though we drank a heap of beer, ate too much food, and made memories, I never once wasn't aware that it was right behind me.
And of course, after a few beers, I'd shifted so I was facing the building.
Several times between bouts of natural laughter, I'd spot a car drive into the carpark, a lone figure would get out and go to the toilet, looking around suspiciously. This happened a few times, and not just from the cars either, but from cyclists coming off the cycle path or joggers coming from the walkway.
Always out of the corner of my eye, I'd seen them look about themselves suspiciously, before entering the toilet.
We all used the toilet a few times of course, and when I went, there was not much to be seen and no new graffiti begging for someone to make a date.
A few drinks in, and we lazed about and drank, nibbling on the leftovers, and enjoying the company and the alcohol.
I watched Vivek run off to the loo, and carried on my chat, losing track of time, but always keenly aware of the 'goings on' in that toilet block.
Vivek was gone too long for a simple wee, and not probably even for a number two, but what he did when he came out of the toilet made me really think twice what I knew about him.
In the few experiences I have had with guys exiting a toilet, in which they've misbehaved, they seem to overly shake imaginary excess water off their hands.
Vivek came out of the toilet shaking his hands in this manner, far too many times, as he walked back towards us.
I did my best to ignore it, but could not ignore the man who left the block looking after him, who jumped in his car and sped off.
Vivek and his wife left shortly afterwards, and our group was a bit smaller.
I needed to go piss again.
And that's how I found myself, getting blown at a urinal, while my wife's laughter filled the air meters away from where we were.
As soon as I walked into the urinal, I saw a guy who I recognised. He was the guy who'd walked in that Wednesday morning after I'd met the jogger.
This guy was brazen; wanking at the urinal with a big cheeky grin on his face, like he knew I was up for it.
I stood at the urinal, and urinated. "I don't have time, sorry."
"We can be quick..." he whispered, with a wink towards the door, "Give me your load." He insisted.
I looked away, because I needed to finish what I was doing and not get distracted by him, but also to force myself to remember that this wasn't a risk I was willing to take.
"I can't..." I said, giving my fella a big shake.
"Come on..." he was right in front of me, and his hand was instantly on my dick, grabbing it really tight.
His hand was so warm, and so big, while his eyes begged me to let him.
I was really trapped because my dick went hard so quickly and I became conscious that it would take a while to lose the hard-on.
My pause had apparently been the moment he'd been looking for. Before I could stop him, he bobbed down and in under one second, I discovered his mouth, and his throat were hot, tight and set to make me jizz in record time.
"Fuck!" I whispered, looking towards the door with panic.
My wife's laughter came again, and also that of my friends.
He looked up at me. Big brown eyes, on a rugged middle-aged face. A man who probably had as much to lose as I did, and enjoyed this side of himself as I did. His eyes, still smiling, needing to see my enjoyment and to know that he was serving me well.
He deep-throated my dick like someone who had done so a few times before. I heard him choke on it, and almost gag, but he sucked in deeper past it.
His mouth was really hot, and soft, and his throat so deep. I could feel his tongue swirl around my dick with expertise.
It built up so quickly. But of course I'd been so horny, and to be surprised like that, and so unexpectedly by an expert mouth.
His mouth slid onto my dick, nice and deep, and I sucked in a big breath, as quietly as I could, because I was on the precipice, and I think he could tell.
A noise to my right startled me, but I realised it was someone in the cubicle too late.
Shit. I hadn't thought of that.
But I was too close, and nobody was an immediate threat from the entrance.
We needed to do this right then.
"Farrrrrrrrrk," I said with gritted teeth, and probably not that quietly, and grabbed this guy's head, because I was coming in for a landing, and he wasn't slowing down. I get it, he was hungry, but while already I nutted, and he was still trying to build me up.
Ease off pal.
As I blew my load into his throat, and felt my balls slap his chin, he upturned his face and pulled my dick out slowly. I could see his mouth was filled with it, as well as his tongue.
Happy, with a big smile, he swallowed like a good puppy and used a finger to make sure none of it was spilled.
The way he kneeled there by the urinal; you'd think it was him who'd just blown a gallon of his load.
I was done, and gave him an awkward smile, but ran for the sink, where I gave my hands a quick wash, and hurried out of the toilet, careful not to continue the suspicious tradition of shaking excess water.
Nobody noticed I'd been gone long at all. And I was the only one who noticed the tiny jizz droplet on my light-grey shorts as I sat down and picked up my drink, while my wife patted my leg and continued our conversation, I put my beer bottle on it, so the dew would seep through.
