Page 3 of Jack Frosting

“You playing with it over there?”

I turned. A shirtless, bearded hunk much taller than me was staring back, a smile on his face. I glanced down and my eyes widened. It seemed he was the one playing with it. It was huge.

“Speechless, I see.”

I finished up, embarrassed I was caught with an eyeful, and went to the sink to wash up. Of course, there wasn’t anything to dry my hands on.

“Who do you have to blow to get some paper towels around here?”

“I, uh…am definitely available.”

In the reflection of the mirror, the bearded guy was standing there with his fly open and an unmistakable bulge peeking out.

“I’ll be gen-”

But I didn’t let him finish. I grabbed the front of his pants and dragged him into the large stall at the end. “I haven’t done this much.” I practically fell onto the toilet while he latched the door behind us.

“That’s alright. No shame in foolin’ around in the bathroom.”

I looked up into his face and tried not to slur my words. “I mean I don’t have a lot of experience…sucking dick.”

“Oh.” He showed me that smile again. “Well, just watch your teeth,” he explained, letting his jeans drop to the floor. “You think you can handle it?”

I reached out, feeling the solid mass underneath the flimsy fabric. “I’ll give it a damn good try.”

Pulling down the baby blue Calvin Klein briefs revealed the monster I had merely an eyeful of earlier. It was uncut and even in the dim light of the stall, I could see it was glistening.

In college, when I was with Jill, we had our fair share of third parties in our bed, so I wasn’t a complete stranger to another man’s dick. I also had plenty of hands-on experience with mine I could put to use.

As soon as I wrapped my fingers around the base to angle it downwards, the young man hissed in anticipation. When my mouth engulfed the head, I was rewarded with the taste I had craved. The smell was just as erotic. Sweat and musk and a hint of precum.

His was bigger than mine, at least eight inches, and I couldn’t fit all of it easily. It had been a long time ago, but I remembered soon enough how to relax my throat. As I buried my nose into his trimmed pubes, I noticed his tattoo and pulled off with a laugh.

“Donald Duck? Really?”

“Just noticing now?”

“I was a little distracted with”–I gave his dick a squeeze–“this.”

“Shocker, I got it while drunk. Thought it would be hilarious.”

I had to admit having Donald Duck chasing after a lawnmower, cutting through his pubes, was imaginative. “You could’ve had ‘You’re welcome’ or ‘God’s gift’ written above it,” I suggested.

He smirked. “I may be well-endowed, but I’m not that conceited.”

“Well-endowed is an understatement.” I slipped it back into my mouth and he grabbed my hair in response to the renewed attention.

There was no other way to say it. He fucked my mouth. It felt like I was in one of those porn scenes I found myself jacking off to when I had a moment alone.

With each slap of his balls against my chin, I felt myself getting closer. At this angle, my hardened dick had very little room and with each thrust from above, it was like he was jacking me off.

I came only a few moments before he did.

Despite the ‘I’m cumming’ I heard, my brain didn’t really process that due to my own orgasm, so when the first spurt hit my throat, I auto-swallowed. The rest filled my mouth faster than I could keep up with and I pulled off, only to get sprayed with the remaining load.

“Shit, man. I’m so sorry,” was all he blurted before pulling up his pants and leaving.

It’s not like I was expecting a good night kiss, or even a date, but I didn’t even catch his name.