Morning in public

You wake up with a huge smile on your face, despite the alarm clock buzzing at that hideous repetitive tone that seems to somehow touch your soul; or is it that you’ve just woken up and are still a bit sleepy? You ponder that for a second while scratching yourself. 

“Good morning me” you say to yourself, while searching around for a pair of shorts to cover your naked body. Finding a really comfortable blue pair of jogging shorts, you jump into them and descend the stairs to refuel. 

Your apartment is small, there’s no denying it. It’s not like you can’t afford a bigger place – not a huge amount bigger, but bigger nonetheless. There is just something about your place that makes you happy and content. It’s self-contained and has everything you need in it. You know someday you’ll need to move out. After all it’s not big enough for 2 people, but for now it’s home and you’re quite happy to keep it like that. 

Making your way through into the kitchen you pop the kettle on, drink a glass of water, eat a banana, pee (and wash your hands), turn your laptop on, check your phone messages – none, make a cup of tea, light a cigarette and read through your emails. 

“Perfect start to the day” you mutter after seeing only 9 new emails and spotting that none would contain anything resembling important information. That gave you the chance to delete them all, close the laptop and do some exercises. 

“One, one, two, two…” you count through bicep curls with two 10kg weights, in a really half-hearted attempt to attain the perfect physique. This is just one of the exercises you do on a regular basis – not every day, but regularly enough to keep you firm without being too defined. Due the continuous frustration of trying to get a six-pack, you don’t realise that this is actually the right body shape for you, if you had the body you wanted, you’d probably turn into a dick-head. 

After having a shower, including the mandatory shower gratitude, you get dressed and head out into the big wide world. Something about the day has given you a skip in your step, and you decide to walk to work today. It’s only about 30 minutes, you’re on time and the walk will give you a chance to get ready for the day and smoke a few cigarettes on the way. 

Knowing you were likely to be heading out drinking after work, you sported your favourite pair of jeans. There are 3 reasons why these are your favourite jeans. Firstly, they seem to match all of your shoes and t-shirts. Something to do with the fading in the colour and the in- between straight and boot-cut fit. Secondly they fitted perfectly. In fact they were the only pair of jeans you didn’t need to wear a belt with that didn’t also constrict your blood flow. Finally they had a zip rather than buttons. This particular zip, had a hidden added benefit: regardless of whether you are lying down, sitting, standing, walking or running, you look like you’ve got a huge cock. Luckily for you, there is 

something considerable behind the zip; otherwise you’d just be disappointing people. 

Completing the look with a casual white shirt, and a light black jacket, you’ve achieved that perfection between smart and looking like you really don’t give a shit. The only problem you’ll face with that look is if you get dirty at all, you will really look a mess. 

Ambling down the street with a tediously repetitive dance tune playing in your ear, you start to notice the people swarming the land around you in every direction. Each one of them with their own lives, their own families, jobs, friends, birthdays, hobbies, interests and sexuality. The only thing connecting you with them is the fact you are in the street together. 

You can see him walking ahead of you on the other side of the street. He’s wearing blue jeans that are slightly too tight for him. A red sports jacket with cream writing and cuffs. His hair is dark, cropped to a couple of inches, styled in short spikes. His jacket is open but he’s ahead of you and you can’t see his t-shirt. 

From the side, his face looks lean and quite angular. His lower face covered in hair beyond stubble but hasn’t quite got to full beard yet. He’s got no piercings, at least none you can see… the thought stirs you a little. You feel the movement in your underwear and your heartbeat increases. 

Suddenly he looks round and catches your gaze. You make a slight stuttering movement in your walk as your mind urges your body not to stop still. But it was too noticeable; he glances to your crotch, back to your face and then smiles warmly before looking further behind his shoulder and crossing the street towards you. 

He’s not looking at your any more; he’s focused on the road in front of him and the traffic. You slow down instinctively to give him space in front of you while also moving over to the side of the pavement so he can walk next to you, should he choose to. 

He hops onto the pavement with a flamboyant yet graceful step-jump, that surely only a friend of Dorothy would expose to the public. Then he takes his place on the pavement in directly in front of you about 3 meters ahead. Despite being a little disappointed that he didn’t drop in next to you and start a conversation, you are reconciled by the fact that his butt is in perfect view, and you’re doubly happy that it’s a very nice butt indeed. 

Your trousers stir again, this time with a moment of forced pressure that you just couldn’t resist. Your tight underwear stretched but preventing too much growth, while your jeans are now doing a great job of hiding you. You smirk at the thought of being erect while in public, but then turn your attention to the guy. The guy in front. The guy who’s now like 6 meters in front! 

“Woah, what happened” it comes out at a little over a whisper; you shudder at having let that slip. It looks like you got away with it. You contemplate for a moment how bad it could have been if someone 

had heard and it had been another thought that slipped out. There were after all so many which weren’t really appropriate for public consumption. 

Returning your focus to him, he’s now about 9 meters in front of you. He stops. Turns round, looks at your face, glances down to your crotch, then back to your face before turning back. He bends forward, arse in the air and starts to tie his shoelaces. 

The distance between you is closing, you have no idea what you should do in this situation. The signs all seem to be there, he smiled at you, walked in front, and now he’s quite clearly offering himself to you in the middle of the street! 

You realise that he probably isn’t expecting you to come up behind him and penetrate him right there, but you seem to think there’s a relatively high level of indicators all pointing you in the same direction. 

You’re 2 meters away now, you’re starting to slow down, you are staring at his rear, seeing all the detail available beneath jeans. And now you’re getting closer, you notice his jacket riding up leaving his skin exposed, the small patch of hair growing at the base of his back gives you the last image you need to break free of the tight hold of your underwear. You feel yourself snap upwards beneath the waistband; grateful of the angle preventing visibility above your jeans. 

As you get closer, almost close enough to touch him, your arm reaches out. You imagine your hand making contact with his jeans. You get close, a few inches away before he stands suddenly. 

You manage to retract your hand in time, pulling yourself upright before reaching his vision alongside him. Peering out the corner of your eye you see he’s looking directly in front of him, not even a glance your way. You regress into internal panic and confusion, your pace slows while you try to weigh everything out and work out if this guy was really flirting with you or not. 

He’s back alongside you, jackets making contact, but not quite close enough for bodies to touch. His pace is faster than yours and he’s making headway in front of you. 

You left it too late to speed up now as he’s stepping out in front of you. He looks behind, you crumble, you’re desperate for him to gaze into your eyes and kiss you. But his eyes stare out into the empty street behind you. He looks forwards, causally drifts into the turning on the right, down the street and out of your life forever. 

“What happened there?” you say aloud. Not caring who heard you as you continued to walk straight on the way to your office. Walking on your own again, you immerse back into the music in your ears. Settling into the rhythm of the beats and your steps, all your movements in time. 

And then you see the blonde guy with the scarf. 

Is it your first time?

You step out into the dark street as the bartender locks the door. It’s a Summer’s night, but it’s a bit chilly. You curse yourself for not bringing a jacket with you and start the long stumble back home.

All of a sudden a glimmer catches your eye as you walk past a dim alleyway. Spluttering on and off erratically are the bright blue and pink neon letters signalling the entrance to the Gay Sauna…

A strong breeze gusts down the street forcing you to close your arms around yourself, in the hope of staving off the cold, and you struggle to make your next steps forward.

Glancing briefly backwards you catch the glimpse of bright welcoming light spilling from the Gay Sauna, as the door slowly closes behind the most recent entrant. In this light you’re also now able to see the pack of hungry men waiting impatiently, tapping their feet or pacing in excitement and nerves.

As you try to continue your journey the wind picks up again, even stronger than before, and nearly knocks you from your feet whilst the chill sneaks into your light shirt and sends goosebumps all over your body. Getting home was not going to be as easy as you had hoped.

“Well…” you mutter to yourself “…there’s a first time for everything”

Turning around, you slowly retrace your steps and take your place in the line, excited to see what wonders await you inside.

It was his first time…

Blake had never been to a gay sauna before, he’d been to bars, clubs and some rather interesting house parties, he’d passed through dark rooms, though had yet to have a run in with anyone that felt even remotely like the kind of hot, slim Furry Fox he was really looking for in the dark. He’d been a prowler online for more years than his birth certificate says he should have, and had experienced several remarkably enjoyable encounters. Unfortunately, this had also come along with many, many more somewhat disappointing affairs, with the most recent only several days past.

Blake looked down to his wrist, a wave of panic spread through his body then dissipated quickly as he for the fourth time today, remembered he had lost his watch. It had been the hookup from three days ago, the very cute and energetic Fox called Curtis, who had managed to persuade Blake to have another guy, Michael the Twink, to pick him up in his car and for both of them to join for a threesome. While Curtis was really cute, and Michael was only just short of being a supermodel, Blake had always had bad experiences with the uber-attractive and was tentative about agreeing. In the end, he’d looked at the clock and figured what the hell. On the journey it turned out that Michael was intelligent and witty, and much to his surprise very much into Blake. It didn’t take long for Michael to slip his hand across the car into Blake’s lap, encouraging the growth already pushing out the seams of his jeans. Michael tried to push the buttons of Blake’s fly apart, but after the second attempt resulting again in the car swerving across the road, Blake lightly tapped his hand away and deftly pulled the jeans open, slipping them just under his hips leaving his now fully grown but tightly restrained cock pushing up from under his white briefs.

The car pulled to a stop and Blake looked up to see the yellow lights of a car park skirting a tall and incredibly grey apartment building. Unfortunately he did not hear the footsteps approaching from behind in time and was shortly met with chuckles as two college students passed by, presumably catching a glimpse of his underwear. He hoped they’d not gotten a good enough look to spot the small damp circle at his tip or the steady and uncontrollable pulse every few seconds. It was nothing to him anyway, he was getting excited about getting Michael undressed and still had vivid images of the dick-pics he’d gotten from Curtis and couldn’t wait to get his mouth around that meat.

Once inside, things had gone smoothly to begin with; Blake was very content being the centre of attention as it seemed both the boys preferred him to the other. He had taken his turn to suck each of their cocks in turn before taking both in his mouth at once; trying his hardest to keep his teeth out of the way whilst he pleasured these young men. It wasn’t long before Blake motioned for Curtis to move behind him whilst he continued to devour Michael. He heard Curtis fumbling around in a drawer somewhere before padding back lightly across the room. Blake felt a couple of lubricated fingers entering slowly up him, feeling the pressure and before relaxing naturally around the digits.

Maybe thirty seconds later Blake heard Curtis start to swear under his breath, there was a stomp on the floor before Blake felt a sharp stinging on his left butt-cheek followed by an extensive string of expletives that was muffled to Blake due to the amazing clapping sound that had reverberated upon impact. Caught in shock and during exhalation, Blake tried to gasp in air only to realise that his mouth was entirely filled with Michael’s junk that was now dripping pre-cum down the back of his throat turning his half-cough into a full-blown gagging. Blake violently coughed up the hard inches of Michael before spluttering about on his knees trying to catch his breath.

Behind him Curtis was in a rage, having issues with the condom it seemed. As Blake turned his head around he wasn’t sure that Curtis was aware that Condoms did not have ears, brains or any sense of being; and him shouting his commands to the condom for it to restrain from pulling at his foreskin as he rolled it down over his rapidly shrinking manhood would be fruitless at best. Blake was also pretty sure this was the primary cause of said shrinking penis. He didn’t however believe it would be a good idea to interrupt this domestic and thought to focus his attention forwards onto Michael, who should, if his memory served his correctly, be sat in front of him with his beautiful dick pointing towards him begging for it to be sucked.

Oh how was he wrong…as his vision caught up with his head returning to face forwards on his body, Blake took in the picture sitting before him. Michael had indeed not moved and for sure his young Twink energy was continuing to pump the vast amounts of blood needed to keep his impressive cock pointing to the skies despite the look that Blake was later to notice being etched on his face. Michael however was not the only thing sitting before him. Blake had not felt the significantly sized and numerous lumps and blobs of his large Chicken Sate dinner rushing up his windpipe. It seems he had not once in his entire twenty two and a half years of being, ever imagined how a Chicken Sate dinner could ever be regurgitated in such a specific set of circumstances that this dinner resembles far too closely that which should only ever come out of an orifice much lower in one’s body…it was then he looked up and saw the expression staring down at him.

There must be words that can diffuse such a situation. There must be that one sentence you can say that will result in everyone laughing, smiling as they get up grab a towel before continuing on with the fun. Blake didn’t know that sentence. He didn’t use any sentence. He simply got up, grabbed his underwear, shirt, jeans and shoes and headed for the door. He got one step out before he remembered his phone. He dropped everything there and ran quickly back inside, putting his hand up to the right of his face as he walked confidently into the bedroom. Having blocked his vision to where both Michael and Curtis would be sitting and standing respectively, Blake had his eyes on his phone on top of the drawers. He pinched it up, did a quick about face and marched back through the hallway and out the apartment. Bundling up his clothes from the floor, he pushed the elevator button. His exposed unsatiated cock swinging lightly as he moved around, threatening to leave droplets of his pre-seed on the floor.

He breathed a loud sigh of relief when the lift arrived less than ten seconds later and another much louder noise as he relaxed entirely to the sight of an empty lift exposed by the opening doors. He hopped into the lift, rapidly pressing the ground floor button until the door started their way-too-slow journey to meet each other. Once freed from button duty Blake pulled his pants on, followed by his jeans and shirt. He picked up his phone and got his regular taxi number ready as his other hand felt in his jeans pocket for his watch….

“Fuck it!”

That had been then, now Blake was hopeful. The hot and fuzzy Muscle Bull called Ferris had been chatting with him for a little while and today had invited Blake to join him at the gay sauna. It was mid-day on a Sunday and Blake wasn’t sure there would be anyone at the sauna but Ferris assured him it would be busy enough. He would recognise Ferris on the street by his hat.

Arriving at the end of the road Blake spots the hat easily. He makes his way down the street before suddenly filling with unfathomable levels of dread. Blake’s mind flashes vividly with the images of the Vindaloo leftovers he’d had for breakfast that morning…