On a Saturday night, I visited the gay club alone, intending to find an ass to fuck. After an hour, a young blond guy, with a girly voice, stood next to me.
“I’ve been staring at you all night. Are you alone,” he asked?
“Yeah, I came on my own.”
“Are you horny?” he grinned.
“I don’t come to gay clubs to drink and dance.”
“My kind of guy. Follow me.” He grabbed my hand and led me to a cubicle in the men’s toilet.
He sucked my cock hard, removed his trousers, and stroked himself. Pushing my mouth onto his seven-inch-uncut cock, I sucked his head while massaging his shaft.
“I don’t want to cum.” He passed me a condom and grinned, “You know what to do.”
He bent, holding the wall. I dropped a blob of spit on four fingers and soaked his hole before pushing a finger inside his ass.
The unwrapped condom fell on the floor. The tiny cubicle restricted my movement, which made recovering the rubber difficult. I lubed my shaft and the guy’s asshole. My tip pressed against his tight hole with resistance, so I pushed harder, and my head popped into him, shifting my foreskin back.
The guy shuddered, “Go slow.”
My knob disappeared in his dry ass. I withdrew my cock with my head inside him, dropped a line of spit straight on my shaft, and eased back into his wetter hole. Fucking faster, I continued working saliva onto my dick.
“Hurry,” he said, and I discovered he came.
I pounded him hard and came inside him. His ass was wet at once, and my cock moved with ease. The incredible sensitivity on my head allowed me to cum a second time as I continued fucking fast. I enjoyed a few soft strokes inside him before pulling out.
“My cock is dirty,” I said.
Without facing me, he exited the cubicle. “Just flush it.”
I cleaned in the basin.
The toilet guy is a lawyer and a close friend of a legal acquaintance of mine. We never spoke again, and he avoids eye contact with me.
E. L. You filthy bitch.
