Chapter Text
Rex moved stealthily through the park, avoiding the light of the street lamps as much as possible, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head to hide him from the eyes of any onlookers, his backpack over his shoulder in which his mechanic's overalls were crammed tightly. He was still slightly sweaty, he had come there as soon as his shift was over, barely had time to throw down a bite, but he could not contain himself any longer; he had been buzzing all day in anticipation of what was to happen that evening.
The young man arrived within sight of the park's public restrooms, looked around nervously, and, once he was sure there was no one around, walked swiftly in that direction, his head down. Once there he peered cautiously at the inside of the men's toilets. Fortunately, there was no one in there, which given the late hour of the evening made sense, so, trying to make as little noise as possible, he headed for the last cubicle of the row, the one farthest from the front door, shrouded in semi-darkness. He entered it, locked it, and with a sigh threw himself down on the toilet. He lowered his hood, running a hand through his short, sweaty black hair, and felt his shoulders relax as a faint smile went to form on his lips, his body being traversed by a thrill of anticipation, banishing whatever trace of drowsiness he had in his body. He had made it, now he just needed to get ready, and then all he had to do was wait.
Carefully and as slowly as possible, he removed his sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, remaining only with his tank top and an old dark-colored jockstrap. He balled up the garments and placed them poorly inside his backpack and then placed it against the wall of the construction in a position where he was sure it would not run the risk of getting dirty, and finally sat back down on the toilet. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his fingers tapping his leg to vent the nervous energy that pervaded his body, trying to push away the doubts that always assailed him during those few, silent minutes.
As he waited for his arrival, he got lost in thinking back to how he had ended up in that situation: about a year earlier, following a party at which he had perhaps had slightly too much alcohol, he had decided to satisfy a question that had been plaguing him for years, namely what it would be like to have sex with another man. He had convinced himself that it would be a one-night stand, the simple satisfaction of a teenage curiosity, yet this had not been the case. That night he had been introduced to a world of pleasure he never thought he would ever know, and he soon realized that he could no longer live without it. Since then he had made a habit of meeting occasionally with other men who were looking, as he was, for discreet company, looking for someone to help them with their excess energy, and he was quite happy to make his body available to them for that arduous task. Obviously, however, a young man as bold and stubborn as he was certainly did not just limit himself to simple online encounters and soon began to look for other ways in which he could have some fun.After discovering that the public restroom in the park near his home was one of the best cruising areas for those who wanted some action in complete anonymity and without too much pretense, he had decided to mentally mark it down and had taken to frequenting it when the desire for his body became too much to contain and he had no patience to wait for any of his usual contacts to respond. By doing so he satisfied his needs and his partner - or partners, plural if it was a crowded evening - also remained satisfied.
Then it had happened.
Three months earlier he had gone in there, eager for a cock down his throat, and, after twenty minutes of anxious anticipation he had come. He had hardly heard him because of how slowly he had moved, and had soon recognized, in the way he had signaled to him, that he was not someone who usually frequented such places. When he had given him the go-ahead he had been breathless at what unfolded before his eyes....
The sound of the stall door next to his closing with a squeak brought him back down to earth. With a shudder he brought his attention back to the hole that made a blatant display of itself on the dividing wall and, promptly, his ears were met by the rhythmic beat that had ended up becoming their signal. He reciprocated and distinctly heard the sound of a zipper being lowered and pants being dropped on the filthy bathroom floor. And then it made its appearance: his partner's cock was long and thick, nothing impossible but big enough that many would have called it “gifted.” It was already semi-stiff and on the red tip glistened in the dimness a faint layer of pre.
As if moved by an unseen force Rex dropped to his knees and approached, his mind already thinking only of how best to serve that perfect tool. He wrapped one hand around the other's rod, felt its warmth under his fingers, and, with a dumb grin on his face, gave a gentle tug. He heard a muffled grunt come from the other side of the wall and a shiver ran through his body, his smile widening. He moved his mouth closer and kissed the tip, passing it over his lips and covering them with his delicious nectar, after which he moved his mouth closer to the base and took a deep breath, leaving behind another kiss and licking it, stimulating him and making him shiver, then moving up gradually more and more toward the top. On the other side of the wall his partner was letting out stifled moans and he could see his fingertips gripping the top of the stall to keep himself balanced. He could almost imagine the look of pleasure on his mysterious companion's face as he let himself be carried away by his lips, trembling under the touch of his fingers.
Once he was done with the foreplay he grabbed his shaft again by the base to hold it steady with one hand, pointed it at his face and opened his mouth, then swallowed it. He quietly reached halfway, and was aware that, if he wanted to, he could also have reached the base in one go, but he did not want his fun to end so soon. He closed his eyes and savored the taste of the other man's cock as his tongue licked along the length of it, picking up every trace of pre as if he had been training to do nothing else his whole life. He heard the other's heavy breathing and could sense how hard he too was trying to hold back, stifling moans and clutching the wall so hard that his knuckles whitened. He curled his lips upward and then let his head go back. He left only the tip in, which he sucked with relish as his tongue played with it, then launched forward again, swallowing it some more.
With slow, calculated gestures, the result of all those months of encounters, he took to giving him a steady blowjob, savoring him and reveling in the sensation of his cock in his throat, swallowing pre and cum that came out of his rod and not caring if some drops escaped from him and ended up soiling his face, staining his stubble white.
The hand that wasn't busy accompanying the movements of his head had gone to his jockstrap, where first he had taken to furiously fondling his own cock through the fabric until the tip peeked out from beyond the band, then, unable to restrain himself any longer, he had pulled it out and begun to jerk off vigorously, combining the liquid sounds of his hand's movements with the obscene sounds his mouth was making and the moans of his partner.
He realized that he had come to swallow him completely only when he felt his own nose press against the wall full of graffiti and carvings. He opened his glazed eyes and uttered a pathetic cry, unable to hide his disappointment. He wished he could tear down the wall, grab him with his own arms, smell the scent of his sweaty skin as his partner's hands clasped around his head and forced him to stay still as he violently violated his mouth, spit dripping from the sides of his lips, his balls beating rhythmically against his throat an expression of amusement and pleasure as he watched this proud and confident-looking young man allow himself to be treated like the cheapest of street whores, completely cockdrunk for his cock, while his glazed eyes asked only to be allowed to continue to be used that way, that nothing else was important to him.
He wanted to feel him, he needed to feel him! His cock was perfect for him, no one else had ever filled him so much and made him feel so good. He was in love with him, with his cock, and it would only take one word from him, one command and he would give up everything to serve him for the rest of his life, with all of his body and soul. Nothing mattered outside of serving him and living the rest of his life with him.
That thought was too much for Rex: he swallowed it completely, his nose pressed hard against the wall, and he heard his partner on the other side let out a deep moan and come down his throat, depositing his hot, delicious milk directly into his stomach, while in turn the cum squirted from Rex's hard cock, soaking the floor tiles.
Once he was done, he stayed with the other man's cock in his mouth for about ten more seconds, milking it thoroughly and making sure he drank every last drop of cum, then let it out with a liquid suck and, still holding it steady with one hand, cleaned it thoroughly of all traces of cum until it was shiny again. He gave one last gentle kiss on the tip - a quirk that always left an amused smirk on his face whenever he did it - and then let it go. The other withdrew his cock and Rex pulled himself to stand on his stiffened legs and then threw himself down with a sigh to sit on the toilet bowl. The other gave a couple of taps with his knuckles on the wall and Rex responded with a slight smile, then he heard the door open and the other move away, leaving him completely alone.
Once he was left alone Rex looked up at the ceiling. He had no idea who the mysterious man with whom he had been having his weekly meeting in there for the past three months was, the only thing he knew was that he felt he had a connection with him, something special.
He snorted and smiled humorously as he thought, “Come on, Brynn, now you're not going to tell me that you're really in love, are ya? You don't even know what he looks like! Stop dreaming, clean yourself up, and get your butt home before Dad or Mike gets worried,” and he took to changing, unable to hide his disappointment that he would have to wait another week to meet his mysterious lover again.
As he walked quickly to get out of the park as fast as possible, Mike Brynn could not hide his cheeks red with embarrassment.
He had done it again.
It had been three months now since, after long inner debates, he had decided to try that cruising spot in the city park near his home and had made his acquaintance, or rather the acquaintance of his mouth. The first time he had given him a blowjob he was sure he would come as soon as he felt his lips, warm and inviting, wrap themselves around him, but thanks to his willpower he had managed to avoid making a lousy impression on his mysterious companion. From then on, almost as if it was a drug, every week, always the same day always at the same time, he would be there, and each time he would get the best blowjob imaginable, sometimes, if he was lucky and his partner was desperate enough, even an asshole milking him of every single drop he had in his balls.
He did not know what it was about his mysterious companion that fascinated him, but he could not stop thinking about him. His identity haunted him and he had even considered staking out who he was but had soon given up. Inside himself he knew it wouldn't be fair, the day they would reveal each other's identities would be when one of them finally took the courage in his two hands and spoke, no coded messages or grunts of pleasure, but actual words. And that night he almost had! After he had finished and finally let him go he had straightened his back, ready to whisper a simple “thank you” to him...but his feet had gone cold at the last second and he had hurriedly left the bathroom, not without first bidding him farewell with their usual code.
He had just left the park that he stopped, took a deep breath of fresh air, and raised his head, looking up at the clear sky above him and the moon shining clear in the black night sky.
“Mike, my friend, I really think you've got a crush on him, there's nothing you can do about it,” he muttered in a low voice before putting his hands in his pockets and heading toward his house, his head continuing to fantasize about what the identity of his mysterious partner might be.