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It happened by accident.

That first time using the toilet, I thought the foot sliding under the cubicle was looking for something. You know, it would be really awkward if you dropped something in the cubicle, and needed to reach under the stall partition with your hand and get it. I mean, if a hand suddenly reached out while I was sitting on the toilet I think I’d empty my bowels a lot faster.
But this foot did a little circle, a sort of weird tap, then disappeared.
I finished my business, and went off to finish my shopping.

It was a few weeks before I was in the shopping centre once more, and in need of the toilet again.

For some reason, I’ve always thought urinals were weird and standing there with your dick out pissing was a strange thing to do, so I always used the cubicles.

The end one was empty, so I slid in and unzipped.
Those first few seconds when you release, after having held it a while, are magic. I like to close my eyes and extra feel the relief. Probably stupid, but hey, I’m shopping and sometimes these small things are the little rewards to get you through.

When I opened them, that foot was back again.

I mean…what a coincidence that the same shoe would happen to be in the next cubicle a few weeks later, having dropped yet another thing.
Shrugging, I shook my pride and joy and tucked him in my undies, stepping back, zipping up, buttoning, all the while flushing, and turning to leave.
But that’s when I saw the little finger wiggling through the little hole.
I’m not stupid, even though I like to act it sometimes, depending on the situation and what it can get me, so I was instantly aware that the foot, and the finger, were working together to get my attention.

I should have been a private investigator with these incredible powers of deduction.

My wife often jokes it takes a nail and a hammer to drive a point home for me.

Yes, I should have turned and left.

But I didn’t.

Maybe because my own feet were a little shaky, or perhaps it was because I just didn’t know if I was being rude, but I was momentarily stalled.
What did he want?

Was it a homeless guy that lived there?

My curiosity was too much, I bent down to look through the hole and discovered it was quite sizable.

Through it, I could see that the guy’s leg, and then that he was slowly wanking his cock.

I shot back, and out the stall, slipping a little on the wet floor, and almost colliding with a guy standing at the urinal who had his dick out.
Now that would have been super awkward.

I thought about that guy’s dick a fair bit. I’d only caught a second of it, but it was enough to know it was slightly smaller than mine, had less foreskin and the hand wore a wedding ring.

That night, after my wife went to sleep, I crept to the office and locked the door. Through my private browser, with settings configured to delete my history, I had a sneaky search of ‘guy’s wanking’.

Holy shit.

There are thousands of results of images and videos that apparently matched my search. Lots of dicks. Small dicks, big dicks, hands-free dicks, women sucking dicks - now why did that come up when I searched for wanking?
But what I thought was interesting, wasn’t the amount of wanking dick that was available. It was that my dick rose to the occasion.
To be fair, I’m a pretty horny, standard 25-year-old, so skin would be enough to get a rise out of me. At least that’s I told myself.
Regardless, it didn’t take too many strokes to sort him out, and I added the tissues to the jizz-filled tissues waste-basket I was always going to get around to actually emptying.

No big deal. Nothing to see here. Just a horny guy wanking over wanking, that’s all.

But why did I feel so odd when I got into bed next to my wife a little while later?

In hindsight, it wasn’t really a surprise that I suddenly needed to go to the shopping centre a few days later. Less surprising that I needed to use the toilet.

This toilet gets busy. There’s always a row of guys pissing, and always at least one or two cubicles busy.

I didn’t actually expect the same guy to be in the middle cubicle, and when I got in there, and took a quick peek, I realised the shoe wasn’t my guy’s.
Only slightly disappointing. I mean, it’s not like I had expected him to be there, and even if he had been, what exactly would I have done? Another slight peek and then? Flee once more?

I pissed, and shook it, and casually bent down to have a little peek.
Whoever was in there didn’t wear a wedding ring, but had also taken some time out to have a wank.

When I turned, I saw the guy at the urinal closest to me staring at me. I closed the door anyway, and unbuckled, unzipped, dropped the trousers and underpants, and casually leaned in for a little look.

The guy must have sensed I was peeking, because his head appeared and I got a snippet of a slightly older guy, but I flew right back away from the hole.
And that’s when it happened.

The guy must have misinterpreted my intentions, because suddenly his dick slid through the hole.

I was stunned. I shrank back from it, staring at it in both fear and curiosity.

Undeterred, it throbbed, but it did not retreat from the lack of my attention.

The thing is, I was curious. I’d never had a hard dick in front of me like that. Sure, haven’t we all seen our mates and team-mate’s cocks at one time or another? But always soft. Never had anyone flashed a hard cock at me, not that I recall anyway.

But, and this is where I was more fascinated about my own mind and thoughts than the fact that some random guy pushed his dick through the hole.
It wasn’t until the dick pushed through the hole that I realised I’d always been curious about other guy’s dicks. Was I average in size? How do I measure up against the average guy? I’ve never had a woman complain about my precious fella, in fact, I’ve been told more than a few times that I was both in command of a great wand and that I was a skillful magician who knew how to use it.

And here I was, in a public toilet, deep within a shopping centre, somewhere on the mezzanine level, with a rock-hard dick that probably was almost as big as mine, tempting me to touch it.

And so I did.

It’s anonymous right? I will admit that I looked up and around, and I made sure there were no cameras in the toilet, though I was fairly certain such things would be illegal.

This dick was hot. My hand was warm, but his dick was much hotter. And in my hand, it throbbed; pulsed, begged for the attention.

I gripped it. Who even know how these things worked? It’s not like you could go to a wanking school, where halfway through your life you realise you had no idea how to wank another guy.

The thick dick, which I then realised was a little veiny, also similar to mine, pushed into my hand, perhaps insisting for some additional movement.
I wanked it lightly, and swear I could feel the guy’s gratitude.
Slowly, and maybe slightly more comfortably, I wanked this other man’s dick, through a hole in the toilet.

But it occurred to me that this would be my only chance to experiment with it.
Its funny how you realise, suddenly, when an opportunity presents itself, that it has sat in the back of your mind, hoping you’d one day get to experiment with it.

I had no idea that I wanted to taste this veiny, milky white dick until I opened my mouth and moved towards it.

It smelled really good, and it was right there in front of me, perfectly patient and perfectly discrete.

My mouth just casually slid onto this guy’s dick like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It was just as hot in my mouth, and I realised then that this guy had been hoping I’d do that. When my mouth wrapped around it, he pushed it in as far as the hole would let him. I was pretty sure that if there hadn’t been a partition between us, he would have grabbed my head and skull-fucked me.
This dick was hot, and it rammed the back of my throat.

And I let it.

I thought about how much I liked getting good head. And what it took for me to appreciate a good blowjob. A hot mouth, that tightened perfectly around my dick, and a tongue that probed the tip and the head, while a hand caressed my balls and the base gently.

So I gave this guy what I knew I liked.

In return, he jizzed down my fucking throat.

I didn’t realise he’d cum until the bitter taste was all over my tongue, and swirling around my mouth and dripping down my throat.

Fuck.

His dick disappeared through the hole, and I spat, then gagged a little. I flushed, and fled. Barely noticing the same guy at the urinal as I rushed to the sink and put my mouth under the faucet and flushed as much as I could.
Anyone who’s tasted jizz will know that it is a taste that will linger.
Even though I ate food, gargled mouth wash, and drank beers, later that evening, I could still taste that guy’s jizz.

And I secretly liked it.