In the quiet stillness of a college bathroom, the only sound was the muffled ticking of a clock echoing off the tiles. The stall door creaked shut behind Zach, a sophomore with a secret craving for solitude during lunch break. His heart thudded in his chest as he locked himself in, a sense of illicit excitement swirling in his stomach. He had stumbled upon this place a few weeks back and had found it an ideal spot to sit all by himself with all those budding desires he hadn't learned to understand as yet.
He pulled out his cell phone and opened his favorite browser, his thumbs flying across the screen. Images loaded, and his eyes grew wide, breathing shallow. The surge of blood to his groin was a familiar sensation now-a daily craving he could not resist. The bathroom stall was his sanctuary, where he could explore urges without fear of judgment or discovery.
The cold floor beneath his feet, he unzipped his pants, letting his hardening cock spring free. He took a deep breath, eyes glued on the screen, and began stroking himself. The feel of the hand around his shaft was almost more than he could bear; his body was responding eagerly to what was in front of him. The bathroom was empty, the sounds of the college a distant murmur, allowing him the privacy he needed for such a solitary act of pleasure.
With the phone in one hand and the other working his cock, Zach felt the pressure build. The strokes grew harder and quicker, as with each one, his need for release grew stronger. The heavy breaths got caught in his throat and sent his breathing ragged. He was so into his tiny world that he didn't even hear the bathroom door open or the steps approaching the cubicle next to him. It wasn't until he heard the metallic click of the lock that he came out of his spell, his heart pounding against the inner linings of the rib cage, like a caged bird wanting to get out.
The man's voice was gruff and surrealistically calm. "Take that tape off the wall, kid," he instructed, pointing to the spot above the toilet paper dispenser where a small strip of tape was holding something in place. The suddenness of the demand sent a shock through Zach; his eyes darted to the wall, then back to the phone clutched in his trembling hand. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. There, behind the tape, was a perfectly cut hole in the wall, no bigger than a fist.
His cock emerged from the hole before Zach could even process what was happening. Thick and veiny, precum glistened at the tip. The view was so close, so real, and it was terrifying and exhilarating. The only one present had his mind bursting with questions. His body moved quite on its own. He hesitantly wrapped his hand around the shaft of the stranger, feeling blood pulsate against his fingertips, the soft skin hot beneath his fingers. At the touch, the man sucked in a quick breath through clamped teeth-the soughing sound in which relief was deeply threaded with anticipation.
The scent of male arousal now replaced the faint odors of disinfectant and filled the small stall. Zach's own cock throbbed painfully against his stomach as he began to stroke the man's cock, tentatively at first. But it wasn't long before the stranger's soft instructions and the small noises of pleasure he was making had him with a rhythm that seemed instinctive. A hand reached over the partition, ghosting over Zach's shoulder before finding his cheek. He finally looked up; their eyes locked in one fleeting, fervent stare, irises enlarged by lust.
The stranger leaned in further into him, his cock deep inside Zach's mouth by now. It was salty, a completely alien feel that was thrillingly so. He sucked, his tongue learning this new topography while the man's cock continued to swell even further. He could feel tension rise around him, desperate need for release building between them. His own cock ached, hard in the confines of his pants, begging for attention. The man's hand tangled tighter in his hair, urging him deeper, and Zach felt the beginnings of the climax. He moaned around the intrusion, his arousal spiraling out of control. He didn't know what was happening, but he didn't want it to stop. The man's breathing became more and more irregular, his hips bucking, and then, with a low groan, he came, the hot fluid filling Zach's mouth.
Zach swallowed. The salty taste lingered in his mouth, and he had never felt so alive, so alive with fear mixed with excitement. The man's hand fell away, and Zach's own hand reached out to the wall, finding the slip of paper the stranger had left behind. He pulled it closer, his heart racing as he read the scrawled phone number. The realization that this was more than just a random encounter settled in his stomach, a thrill mixed with a hint of dread. What had he just done? What would happen if anyone found out?
He heard the man zip himself up and then leave the stall; the door swung open and shut with a swooshing sound in the tiny cubicle. Alone again, Zach could hardly believe the turn of events. His hand was trembling as he placed his cock in the gloryhole, feeling the cool air kiss his sensitive skin. The thought of another person touching him, someone who knew what he liked, who wanted him, was almost too much to handle. He stroked himself, his thoughts racing, the phone forgotten in his pocket.
As he reached his own climax, the pleasure was so intense it was almost painful. A wave of white heat washed over his vision, and he bit into his lower lip hard in an attempt to stifle the sounds of his release. The semen finally reached its end, ejecting onto the wall and the floor with a wet sound that seemed to echo within the empty bathroom. He took a moment to catch his breath, heart racing as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He knew he had to keep it all inside, not sharing with his friends, not with his parents, and not even with his therapist. It was his secret, a dirty, thrilling secret that he would hold close to his chest, a memory to replay in his mind when he was alone in his room at night, under the covers with his hand wrapped around his cock.
When the tremors finally ceased, Zach tucked himself back into his pants and flushed the evidence of his encounter away. He stepped out of the stall, his legs shaky, and washed his hands. He studied his reflection in the mirror-a flush on his cheeks, a glazed look in his eyes. He was. different. As if he crossed some invisible line, some threshold, which could never be uncrossed. As he came out of the bathroom, the slip of paper in his pocket seemed to burn a hole through his jeans-a silent promise of more encounters to come. And deep inside, a part of him was already looking forward to the next time.
Days passed, the encounter etched in his memory, a secret thrill that made his heart race every time he thought about it. The number on the paper burned a hole in his pocket, a silent beacon of his newfound desire. One evening, after his parents had gone to bed and the house was still, Zach found himself unable to resist the siren call. His hand shook with anticipation as he sent a tentative text to the mysterious number, the words seeming to burn in fire on the screen of his phone.
Moments later, a video message popped up - grainy, the lighting poor, but unmistakable: a hand large and rough wrapped around a thick cock, stroking it with an expert ease that made his mouth water. The man's face was hidden, but the sight of his cock was enough to get him hard again. He watched the video, his own hand moving to mirror the motions on the screen, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. The man in the video was watching him; he could feel it, even though he couldn't see his eyes.
It ended with a simple question: "Ready for more?" A question, yes, but somehow it sounded to him now like an order. His body seemed to be going into overdrive, stirring with an intensity that scared and excited him in equal measure. He hit reply, fingers flying across the keyboard now with the same urgency that had propelled him into the bathroom stall that fateful day. "Yes," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper in the quiet of his room.
The next day, the messages flowed more frequently and even more explicitly. This was a man who knew his liking, it would seem, with videos and images that caused his cock to throb with need. They didn't speak, not with words. There was only the silent language of desire, a give-and-take of visual cues and response that made Zach crave this stranger's touch.
And then, one day, the instructions arrived: to be in the same bathroom stall, at the same time, prepared for another meeting. Zach's feeling was one of trepidation threaded by a dark edge of fear. He knew not what this might entail, but knew he was unable to pull away. There was an attraction forbidden here, a promise of pleasure, he just couldn't deny.
He arrived at college with a knot in his stomach, the slip of paper feeling like a hot coal against his skin. Throughout the day, he was a wreck, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and images that made it impossible to focus on anything else. When lunchtime finally rolled around, he practically sprinted to the bathroom, his heart in his throat.
The stall was empty, just like before. He took a deep breath and stepped inside; the door clicked shut behind him, the sound final, like a seal on his fate. The tape was gone, the hole in the wall now a silent invitation. His hand shook as he reached for his zipper, his mind racing with what was to come. This was it-the moment he had been both dreading and craving. He pulled out his phone, ready to play his part in this twisted dance that had begun, unsure whether he would be taking another step into the dark new world or if it was all about to come crashing down around him.
The thought was unbearable, a heady cocktail of fear and lust that had him on the edge of his seat. He could feel the man's eyes on him, even though he was invisible. The thought of being watched, used, sent a thrill of terror through him, yet it only made him harder. He positioned himself in front of the hole, his cock standing proud, a silent offering to the stranger beyond. He waited, his breath coming in ragged gasps, the air in the stall feeling thick with anticipation.
And then, it happened. A hot, wet mouth closed over his shaft, sucking him in with a greed that made him moan aloud. The sensation overwhelmed him, so much better than his own hand, so much more.real. He couldn't believe this was happening again, that he was letting it happen again. But he couldn't stop, the pleasure too strong. He bucked his hips, driving deeper into the anonymous mouth, hands braced on the wall to keep from falling.
The mouth worked him expertly, stranger knowing just how to coax the most exquisite sensations from his body. He could feel the man's breath upon his skin, the slight scrape of teeth against his sensitive flesh. His eyes rolled back in his head, his vision swimming with stars. The world outside the stall, the college, his life-all of it faded away, leaving only this moment of pure, carnally driven need. He was lost in it, consumed by it, and he didn't care if he was never found.
The orgasm hit him like a freight train, and his body arced, his toes curling as he shot his load into the waiting mouth. He felt the man swallow, the tightness around his cock releasing as the stranger pulled away, leaving him panting, his knees weak, and his mind hazed with both pleasure and confusion. He did not know how much more of it he could or wanted to take.
He opened his eyes, and the stall was once more empty. The only thing that told of what had just happened was the mess on the floor and the number in his pocket, a constant reminder of his secret life. He cleaned up as well as he could, his heart racing as he checked the time. He needed to get back to class, needed to act like everything was normal. But the moment he stepped out into the harsh fluorescent light, all he could think about was when he was going to return to that stall, when he was going to feel that mouth again.
The rest of the day blurred in a sort of haze as his mind played and replayed the encounter in an endless loop. The feel of the man's cock, the taste of his cum, the way his own body had responded so readily. And then, just as the final bell was about to ring, his phone buzzed in his pocket. From an unknown number, but he knew exactly who this would be. "Meet me in Mr. Richardson's classroom after college," it said. His heart skipped a beat. Was this some kind of setup? A cruel joke? Or was it the man from the bathroom, taking their encounters to the next level?
He approached the classroom with trepidation, his hand hovering over the doorknob. What if someone saw him? What if this was some sort of trap? But this need to know, this need to experience more of that forbidden thrill, was more powerful than fear. He opened the door and stepped inside; his gaze was immediately riveted to the figure sitting on the teacher's desk. It was Mr. Richardson, the normally disapproving face now twisted into a sly smile, his body completely bare.
His teacher's naked form was surreal, his cock already hard and pointing to Zach like some sort of silent accusation. He felt shocked and aroused, his own cock stirring in his pants. "You've been a good boy," Mr. Richardson said, his voice low and gravelly, "but now it's time to graduate to something more. advanced."
Zach's eyes widened as it finally dawned on him. He had always had a crush on his teacher, but this was beyond anything he had ever imagined. His heart thudded in his chest as he took in the sight before him: the muscles of Mr. Richardson's chest, the trail of hair leading down to his cock, the way his thighs were spread in unmistakable invitation.
Mr. Richardson leaned back, his hand idly stroking his shaft as he watched Zach with a predatory gaze. "Come here," he instructed in a low, commanding voice. The teenager took a shaky step forward, his hand moving to his own zipper like it was pulled by an invisible thread. He knew he should be running, screaming, but instead, his body betrayed him, moving of its own accord.
He knelt before the desk, the coolness of the floor a stark contrast to the heat of his own body. The tip of Mr. Richardson's cock was right in front of his face, and without a second thought, he leaned in and took it into his mouth. The taste was different than the stranger's-familiar and yet forbidden. He sucked hard, feeling the man's cock swell even further as he did so. The hand in his hair was firm, guiding him, pushing him to take more.
And then, something completely different happened. Mr. Richardson was clenching the grip to his hair tighter, while some warm flow splashed back to his throat, and gagging, he felt when such a hand would not slack. He swallowed it with the mouth complete with some sort of the most bitter flavor from piss, watering the eyes. Nevertheless, the look of utmost satisfaction on the teacher's face drove him further, suckling intently, though one's dick groaned pressed inside the pants.
And when he finally pulled back, his cock was slick and shining with both cum and piss. "Good boy," he said in a husky murmur and began stroking Zach's head like a hound. "Now, it's your turn."
Zach's hands were shaking as he undid his own pants; his cock sprang free, and the man leaned in, mouth watering at the sight of the young, eager flesh. He took it in his hand, stroking it gently, then leaned back, spreading his legs wider. "Ride me," he ordered, his voice gruff with desire.
Without further ado, Zach climbed onto the desk, straddling his teacher's hips, shaking his legs in anticipation. He felt the tip of Mr. Richardson's cock against his opening, the pressure as he sank down onto him. The hurt was sharp, melding with the pleasure into a sensation so fierce that he could hardly breathe. The man's hands were on his hips, guiding him, pushing down harder, filling him up completely.
He began to move, hips rising and falling on the cock that now owned him. The friction was exquisite, this feeling of being so utterly filled unlike anything he had ever felt. The room spun around him; his eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched, trying to hold back his moans. It was wrong, so wrong, but it felt so right. He felt the orgasm building and his cock slap against Mr. Richardson's stomach every time he pressed down.
The rhythm quickened, frenzied, silent symphony of the body that moved in concurrence with lust. The desk creaked to and fro under the weight of them both, smells of sex and sweat building in the enclosed space. With one final desperate push, Zach let himself come, and his seed spat forth, painting the teacher's stomach. Mr. Richardson wasn't far behind, his hips bucking up to meet Zach's as his cock pulsed deep inside the boy he had claimed as his own.
As they both came down from the high, panting and sweaty, Zach couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride. He had done it; he had taken that final step into the dark world of desire that called to him. He had no idea where this would lead him, but one thing was for sure: he was ready for more, ready to let in the taboo that filled his mind. But how far would he go to satisfy this new hunger?
