I walked into the dingy public bathroom at the rest stop off the highway, my heart pounding like it wanted out of my chest. It was late, almost midnight, and the place smelled like piss and cheap disinfectant. I was twenty-two, horny as hell, and tired of jerking off to gay porn in my apartment. Tonight I was going to do it for real.
The guy was already at the urinal when I stepped in. Tall, broad shoulders, dark hair, maybe thirty. He glanced over as I took the urinal two spots down. No one else was in there. I unzipped and pulled out my cock, trying to piss but nothing came out. My dick was half-hard already from nerves and want.
He finished, shook off, and instead of leaving he moved to the sink. But he didn't wash his hands. He just stood there, watching me in the mirror. "You looking or what?" he said, voice low and rough.
I froze. My mouth went dry. "Yeah," I managed. "I'm looking."
He nodded toward the last stall. "Get in."
I followed him, dick swinging out of my pants now, fully stiff. He locked the door behind us. The stall was tight, walls covered in graffiti and holes. He pushed me against the partition, one hand grabbing my cock through my open fly.
"Fuck, you're hard already," he muttered. He spit in his palm and wrapped his fingers around me, stroking slow and firm. "First time?"
I nodded, breathing heavy. "Yeah. Never done this."
"Good. I like breaking in new guys." He dropped to his knees on the dirty floor without hesitation. His mouth was hot and wet when he took me in, sucking the head first, then sliding down until his nose brushed my pubes. I groaned loud, one hand on the wall, the other in his hair.
He sucked like he meant it, tongue working the underside, spit dripping down my balls.
I thrust a little without thinking. He pulled off, wiped his mouth, and stood up. "Turn around. Pants down."
I shoved my jeans and boxers to my ankles. The air was cold on my ass. He pressed close behind me, his own cock out now, thick and veined, rubbing between my cheeks. He spit again, this time on his fingers, and worked one into my hole. It burned at first, then felt weirdly good as he twisted it.
"Relax," he said. "You're tight as fuck. Gonna open you up."
A second finger joined the first. He fingered me steady, scissoring, stretching. My cock leaked against the wall. I pushed back on his hand, wanting more. "Do it," I said. "Fuck me."
He pulled his fingers out and lined up. The head of his cock pressed against my hole, blunt and insistent. He pushed in slow but didn't stop, one hand gripping my hip. It hurt, a sharp stretch that made me gasp, but he kept going until his balls rested against me.
"Fuck," I hissed. "It's big."
"Take it," he growled. He started thrusting, short and deep at first, then longer strokes that dragged over something inside me that made my legs shake. Skin slapped skin. The stall creaked. He reached around and jerked my cock in time with his thrusts.
I came first, shooting ropes across the wall and floor, groaning like an animal. My ass clenched around him. He fucked harder through it, grunting, then pulled out and painted my lower back with his load, hot and thick.
We stood there panting for a minute. He wiped me off with some toilet paper, tucked himself away, and unlocked the door. "You did good, kid," he said, then walked out.
I cleaned up, pulled my pants up, and left. My ass ached in the best way. I knew I'd be back.
