4th Floor Coffman

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True-ish tearoom story.

Thanks to LarryInSeattle.


I didn’t have to wait long. I hardly had time to sit down and touch my cock before he was running his finger under the stall. I’d taken a look before entering my own stall. He was an older dude but younger than I am now as I write this. I was always surprised by the number of older men who showed up even though it is a large campus. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised to see more than students hanging out, looking for hard dick. I was at an in-between stage. I supposed you could think of me as a grad student, or more accurately a post-doc. I was twenty-eight, older than some but not the oldest by far. I never thought of the older guys as ‘trolls’, perhaps because I was a bit closer to becoming one of them than the undergrads. Coffman was remodeled years ago. I have no idea where students go for cock these days. Perhaps the world has changed enough they just go back to their dorm rooms and fuck like everyone else. I no longer seek out such places. Kneeling on a cold, dirty, floor and shoving my cock under the stall was never terribly comfortable but now I’d view doing so as impractical, at best. More importantly, that part of my life is in the past. It’s still part of me. I no longer deny it, no longer hide it from my wife, but other than in memory, I’ve set it aside.

The man I’d spied through the crack in the door looked okay. I didn’t start drooling but he wasn’t super over-weight, on the bearish side but not a Wookie, and his cock looked reasonable enough. Still, when I swung off the stool to kneel on the floor, I didn’t shove my cock under the stall. I was hard already, God how I miss my twenties. I stroked myself and waited for the sideways, upside down face to appear. It did.

“Yeah, stroke that big cock.”

A talker. Not a deal breaker but not my favorite. My cock is average. I like it. It fits me and, personally, I’ve always found it nicely proportioned with regard to size of the crown, length and girth. Now, I get it, a certain fulsomeness is part of the gig in these situations. It wasn’t what he said; it was that he was already gabbing. I gravitated toward the more silent types. He struck me as too old to be a newbie but he’d taken the end stall, near the wall. That left me the middle stall. I’d have options, he would not.

“Let me suck it.” His voice was insistent, a little too much so for my taste. I decided I’d suck him. I could get my dick sucked at home. That wasn’t why I was here. I was here because there was no dick at home I could suck. I figured it to be a win-win. I get a load of cum, something I hadn’t had for months. He’d get to bust a nut and then I’d win again because he’d leave. I gestured with my fingers.

“Let me suck you first.” His voice was a bit more insistent.

I shook my head and repeated the gesture. I hated feeling like a dick but I’d discovered it was better not to be too compliant either. We were all there for similar reasons. Usual it worked out and everyone was reasonably happy. If he was as desperate for a mouthful of cum as I was, well that could prove problematic. As it was, he blinked first. The face disappeared. Naked legs, pale, dark hair, jeans bunched around ankles, and scuffed up tennis shoes replaced the face – along with his cock, which proved to be more than reasonable. It was quite nice, truth be told. I was never much for estimating size because I didn’t care. I was more likely to decline a monster cock than a smaller one. I’ve never liked to gag. In those days I was able to control my gag to an extent and today, on occasion when alone in the kitchen, I’ll deep throat a banana just to prove to myself I still can. But monster cocks, the kind you can barely get your lips around never appealed to me. So, let’s say he was six-inches, not too fat, cut. He didn’t shave or trim. His cock jutted out of a mass of dark curls. Fine by me.

I wrapped my hand around his cock and squeezed and was amazed, yet again, at how something so soft and smooth was able to hide steel. A lovely, clear, large drop of dew appeared, clinging to his piss slit. I leaned over my legs and touched the tip of my tongue to it, inhaling as I did so. I smelled soap. I cannot claim to be a connoisseur of cum. It’s not salty. I’ll never understand why people describe it that way. I always felt it left my mouth sort of dry or numb, like a wine with a lot of tannin. I craved it but I never call it delicious. At the same time, I don’t recall ever taking a load I thought tasted bad. To me cum is cum is cum. If I can’t do better than that describing cum, I’ll just say his precum tasted like cum but less so, less piquant than what I hoped would soon follow.

“That’s right suck my fat dick.”

Fuck. The talking. It wasn’t that fat and I hadn’t suck it yet. I had the afternoon but I was desperate for cock and I wasn’t such a huge asshole as to reject him because he ran off at the mouth a little. I wrapped my lips around the head and played with the slit with my tongue as I slid my hand down his shaft. I took my mouth away, milked the shaft and rubbed my bahis firmaları hand over the precum. My hand still wasn’t slick enough to glide over his cock, so I licked my fingers and hand, then squeezed his shaft again. When I stroked him again there was an acceptable lack of friction. I stroked him a few times and then put the head of his cock back in my mouth. I pressed on the underside of his crown with my tongue, loving the way I could deflate the head and loving it even more when I released the pressure and the head swelled to fill my mouth again. I popped my lips over the ridge of his crown a few times, eliciting a few moans but, thank God, no words. My mouth followed my hand and I deep throated his cock. His hips bucked forward, smashing his pubis into my nose. Not a problem. I held him there, savoring the smell of his pubic hair and crotch, savoring the feel of a mouth, and throat, full of cock. The sound of the door opening had sent us both scrambling back to our stools.

I had a student ID. If busted, I’d be told to beat it and unless I was caught again, nothing else would happen. If the dude whose cock I’d had in my mouth was busted and he had no reason to be on campus, he’d be cited for trespassing. The bathroom door on the fourth floor of the old Coffman Union open facing a wall, for privacy. I suspect for privacy for those standing at the urinals but maybe the architect knew of the needs of young men, who knows. The wall was about four-feet long and then you turned to enter the bathroom proper, facing the row of sinks. To your right were three urinals and beyond them, the three stalls. Dude number 1 was in the stall next to the wall. I was in the middle. Neither of us could see the guy at the urinal. I heard the sound of someone taking a monstrous leak. I could see his feet as he washed his hands but he had gone to the middle sink. I couldn’t tell if he was checking out the stalls in the mirror. Before he could leave, the door opened again. Hand washer left. The easiest way to get caught was if someone came in at the same time someone else was leaving. I waited. No pissing. I bent forward. The feet at the urinal are facing the stalls not the urinal. I sit back up and wait.

It was the shish of his shorts that I heard more than his footsteps. A shadow passed my door. He was a big, tall not fat, guy, African-American, or as we said at the time, black. He looked to be an undergrad with a patchy beard. I couldn’t see much else. He paused in front of the other door. I could tell by where he was standing that he was peeking through the crack at Guy 1. I stroked, slowly, and waited. In a few minutes his eye appeared in the crack between my door and the stall support. I leaned back, giving him a good look. I was never what I’d call ripped but I pulled my tee shirt back over my head. I wasn’t fat. I wasn’t super hairy. Plus, getting my tee shirt out of the way made it easier for me to play with my nipples. More importantly, it allowed him to see my nipples being played with. I heard nothing from the other stall. I purposely stroked my cock extra hard, letting my hand smack into my leg. There was no mistaking that sound in the quiet bathroom. That’s all I did. Time for African-American student, A-AS, to declare himself. I didn’t have to wait long. He pulled the top of his athletic shorts down. There was nothing underneath except a beautiful cock, bigger than most but not stereotypically so. That was good enough for me.

I hopped back down on my knees and motioned under the stall to Guy 1. Nothing. A shy talker. Great. Or, I wondered, a racist talker.

“It’s okay. Come on,” I whispered.

He was just starting to move when we heard the door. Fucking hell. Up I went and A-AS popped into the stall next to me, the one nearest the urinals. Piss. Wash. Bye-bye. By then I was pretty amped up. I went right back to my knees and motioned. “Come on. Hurry up. It’s cool.” Behind me I hear the other stall door open. The eye at the door and the cock under the stall arrive simultaneously. Nice. I lube my hand up with spit and start working on his cock again. I deep-throat him, holding him in my throat as long as I can. I tilt my head. A-AS’s eye is glued to the crack. The doors on the stalls opened to the left, as you faced them form the stool. I was blowing the guy to my right. No problem. Without taking his cock out of my mouth or my right hand off his cock, I reached up with my left and unlatched the door. I didn’t open it. A-AS would again need to make the next move. He did. He pushed the door open and stood there, and watched me, kneeling on that cold bathroom floor, sucking dick.

I focused on the cock in my mouth, stroking and sucking. I’d deep throat it then pull back slow, sucking and pressing my tongue against the softer undershaft. At the head, for the sake of Guy 1 and A-AS, I would lick around the crown, flick the V in the crown with the tip of my tongue and then in one quick motion, deep throat him again. After a few minutes of that, I took his dick out of my mouth. I turned slightly and began to lick the left side of his cock. I put my lips on it and let them kaçak iddaa glide over the shaft. This position allowed me to watch A-AS. He stood in the doorway, stroking, but not in a serious I-want-to-cum-right-now fashion. We held each other’s eyes. I held out my left hand. He took one step into my stall and laid his cock in my open hand. I revised my estimate. Perhaps he’d not been fully hard. In my hand, his cock flirted with not just being bigger than most but verging on monstrous. My fingers barely wrapped all the way around his shaft. My thumb worked over the head. It came away slick. I took my mouth off of Guy 1’s cock long enough to put my thumb in my mouth and suck it.

I shifted positions. I kept stroking both cocks but now A-AS’s cock hovered just in front of my face. He had a deeper, richer musk than Guy 1, not at all unpleasant or rank. I didn’t try to take much of his cock in my mouth, settling at the start, with just the head. I got him nice and wet and then leaned back and stroked him. This was the first time I sucked a black dude. His cock was a rick, dark chocolate color, his sack and the head were even darker. There was a band of pinkish-white where he’d been cut. His pubes and the line of hair that ran to his belly button were jet black with much tighter curls than I’d ever seen. His balls were shaved. I did my best to suck one of them into my mouth but they were huge. He jerked and hissed, I knew I’d hurt him so I contented myself with nuzzling, kissing and licking his sack and the inside of his leg. His musk was much stronger there, not rank, just stronger. I pressed his cock against his belly and licked beneath his sack. He hadn’t shaved that far back. I stopped and plucked a hair off the tip of my tongue, kissed the front of his leg, and then returned my attention to Guy 1. Or would have if the sound of a door opening hadn’t sent us all scrambling again.

Footsteps, then nothing but quiet. It was clearly someone interested in what we were doing but whether that was because that someone was hoping to bust us or join us was not clear. I risked a look under the stall, running shoes not leather, that was a hopeful sign but proved nothing. The feet moved toward the sink. I sat back up. He stopped at the last sink, the one closest to the stalls. Through the crack I could see that although the water was running he wasn’t washing his hands. Why would he? He hadn’t take a leak. I could see his eyes in the mirror, looking at the stalls. I assumed that, though not an expert in optics, if I could see him looking this way that he could see me looking back, or at least that someone was looking back at him through the gap beside the door. Jeans and a tee shirt. Campus security didn’t usual bother to try to entrap people. They just want to keep somewhat of a lid on the activities. I scanned his waist line. Nothing bulged under his shirt, nothing that looked like Mace or cuffs. Campus security didn’t carry weapons in those days.

My horniness made me bold, stupidly so in retrospect though, on this occasion, I wasn’t punished for my foolishness.

I unlatched the door to my stall, pushed it open and stood. I shuffled to the open door, took half a step out and began to stroke my cock. Guy 2 watched in the mirror. Of course, the sound of the damn door opening sent me shuffling back and closing the door. I heard Guy 2 twist the water off and grab a handful of paper towels. I hear the bang of the trash can lid, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing as the newest interloper took a quick piss. When he finished he didn’t wash his hands. Though I’d just been kneeling on the floor, sucking anonymous cock, it bugged me that he didn’t wash his hands.

I opened the door to my stall, dropped to my knees, and waited. A-AS moved first. He stepped out of his stall, walked over, fished his cock out of his shorts and offered it to me. I started at the beginning, took the head in my mouth and then a little more. I got him wet and started stroking, long, twisting strokes. By the time Guy 1 worked up the nerve to open his door and watch, I’d been able to get about a third of that beautiful dark cock into my mouth. I turned, tonguing and kissing the right side of his cock, giving Guy 1 a nice view. I leaned past A-AS’s muscular left thigh and motioned. He hesitated but Guy 1 stepped out of his stall, jeans around his ankles.

“Hold your pants up, buddy. In case you have to get back inside quick.” He did as I suggested and then walked out of his stall and stepped in front of me, not quite close enough to touch A-AS. I stroked both of them, then sucked Guy 1. I saw him reach for A-AS, who let him take over stroking.

“Yeah, man, suck that dick. Suck it.”

I did, hoping that might shut him up. Naw.

“You like that big dick, huh? Like sucking dick?”

Well, duh. Why else would I have been there? Fuck. I ignored him and sucked him a few more times, then turned back to A-AS’s actual big dick.

“Oh, you like that big fat black cock, huh?”

I turned, kissed the head of Guy 1’s cock and looked past it at him. “Relax, man. I like both your kaçak bahis cocks. Just enjoy and relax. Okay?” I went back to sucking A-AS’s cock. Dude 1 took the hint and stayed quiet. I didn’t suck AA-S for long. I wanted to get Guy 1 out of my hair. I turned back to him and sucked him for real now. I worked his cock with my mouth and hands. When he started to get excited, I put my hands on his ass cheeks and let him mouth fuck me. When he started to jizz, I pulled back and let him cum on my face and open mouth. When he was done, I sucked him until he grew soft, using the head of his dick to wipe my face off with. A-AS watched the whole thing. Guy 1 stepped back, jerked his pants all the way up, zipped and fled. I licked my lips and smiled at A-AS. He smiled back. “Dude, wouldn’t shut the fuck up.” I nodded my agreement and reached for his cock. We didn’t get very far before we were sent scurrying back to our stalls. This time A-AS takes the far stall. Classes must have let out because for about fifteen minutes there was a steady stream of business at the urinals. I took periodic breaks from stroking my dick, just enough to keep it hard, to peek under the stall. Finally, one pair of sneakers was left and they looked familiar. I bent lower. Same tee shirt. It was the hand washer, henceforth to be known as HW. The way HW had bolted earlier when the door opened made it clear he wasn’t security and, more likely than not, that he was inexperienced. Perfect. I debated subtlety versus boldness. I was too horny for subtlety. I hoped HW was as well.

I opened the door to my stall and shuffled to it. I had to exit it entirely for HW, still by the urinals, to be able to see me stroking my cock. I remember telling myself I should have worn flip flops and shorts. I could’ve been naked, stroking my, by then, painfully hard cock for this nice looking young man with a trickle of sweat running down his left sideburn. He watched. He didn’t unzip his jeans but he watched. A-AS open the door to his stall and moved to stand beside me, stroking his own dick. When I reached for it, he let me stroke him. I stroked us both; we both stared at HW, inviting him with our eyes.

He stepped closer.

I moved in front of A-AS, dropped back to my knees and began to suck his dick. Soon, I had forgotten all about HW, engrossed as I was in seeing how much of that dick I could swallow. I never gagged. I never quite got the whole thing into my gullet but most of it, enough that I’m still proud of my accomplishment. Perhaps because A-AS and I were so wrapped up in what we were doing and no longer staring at him, HW moved steadily closer. I kept sucking, pausing when I needed to catch my breath. When HW finally unzipped and pulled out his dick, I held out my hand. Nothing. I stood up. I pushed A-AS’s tee shirt up and began to suck and play with his nipples. They were tiny, or maybe they just looked that way because he was such a big dude. Tiny or not, they responded as nipples do and A-AS responded as one does whose nips are being played with. HW was stroking his cock by now. I stopped what I was doing and turned to him.

“If someone comes in, don’t try to zip up. Duck in the stall and act like you just got in there and finish unzipping and taking your pants down. Sit on the can. Don’t stand there. If it is security, do your best to look like your concentrating on taking a dump. Capisce?”

Yes, I said ‘capische’. Why I don’t know but the fact that I’ve included that embarrassing fact should convince you that I’m telling the truth, even the unflattering bits.

HW nodded and I went back to sucking A-AS’s cock. After a few sucks, I held out my left hand. This time HW put his dick in it. Yes! He was rock hard and dripping dew. A quick rub of the head was all it took to lube up his cock. I didn’t try to suck him, not then. I sucked A-AS. I stroked HW. Then, bang, door opens and we bolt back to your hidey-holes. Piss, wash, leave. As usual that afternoon, I was the first out the door. I knelt and waited. A-AS was next, then HW. I looked at HW; he hadn’t needed clairvoyance to know what I wanted.

He took a couple of steps and when I reached for his dick, he let me take it. I felt a hand on the back of my head. A-AS had joined us. He rubbed my head and neck, leaning over me to nip and suck at HW’s nipples.

I was disappointed in how quickly HW came. I was quite enjoying the taste of his cock. I was not disappointed, not in the least, at the load he deposited in my mouth and throat. God knows how long he’d been working up to this, lying in his dorm room, dreaming and wishing. I knew all about that. I also knew that as soon as the last spurt finished, if not before, he’d feel like he’d woke from a dream. He’d be filled with revulsion at what he’d just done and at himself, at me. He’d bolt, swearing he’d never do this again. Swearing he wasn’t bi or gay. Swearing he’d never, ever, do this again. I hoped I was wrong. I hoped that in the few years that separated us that things had change enough for him not to beat himself up but the fact he was here, in a public bathroom, getting his dick sucked and not in his own room made me pretty sure I was right. I was. He put his still hard dick away and hurried away, never looking at either of us. I wished him luck twenty odd years ago and I wish him luck again this very minute.

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