What Are You Doing In There?

These guys sure knew how to suck cocks!

When Gareth's turn was over, the guy in the combat jacket pulled away from the hole and just stared at my brother's cock, slick and twitching in excitement, curving upwards towards through the hole. After a few seconds, Gareth withdrew it and knelt down, obviously expecting to take his turn at sucking.

The guy in the combat jacket stayed kneeling, though, and whispered something to Gareth when his face was near the hole.

Gareth whispered something back, questioning him, but I couldn't make out his words.

Then the guy said something in reply and I heard the word 'fuck' in among the rest of what he said.

Gareth nodded and asked him another question.

The guy laughed and said, more loudly, "No worries! I've got two or three packets, mate."

Gareth smiled at him and then nodded.

The guy stood up, pulled up his underwear – a pair of dark blue boxer briefs – and arranged his erection inside of them. Then he yanked up his jeans, flushed the toilet behind him and let himself out of the cubicle.

I felt a little disappointed for Gareth that he'd been rejected by the guy in the combat jacket. Whatever had been said between them obviously hadn't gone too well for my brother.

Just then I heard a click from the far cubicle and realised that Gareth was letting him in.

They'd arranged a meeting! They were going to get together!

Again I felt a little stupid for not having worked this out, but until then I really wouldn't have expected anything like this from Gareth. He'd always seemed so prude and so uncomfortable when exposing his body: the idea that he'd push his cock through a hole in a toilet wall, never mind play around face-to-face with another guy, would have seemed utterly ridiculous just half an hour earlier.

Another man let himself into the cubicle next to mine and I was annoyed at the prospect of having to try and watch what was going on in my brother's stall past someone sitting down to take a crap.

The guy looked like he was in his early thirties and was wearing a dark blue suit with a white shirt and red tie. He probably worked in one of the council offices over the road from the bus station. Why couldn't he use the toilets in his own building?

He hitched down his trousers and white briefs, exposing a limp cock and low-hanging balls which looked far browner in colour than the paleness of his thighs.

He sat himself down on the toilet and stared forwards for a minute or so, perhaps reading some of the graffiti on the back of the cubicle door.

He seemed to notice the large hole almost accidentally and idly leaned across to take a look through it.

I smiled, expecting such a formal-looking well-groomed man to be horrified at what was going on in Gareth's stall, but he just stared through the hole with interest, clearly quite ofay with the sight of two teenage lads playing with or sucking each other's cocks, or whatever they were doing in there. Without taking his eyes from them, his reached automatically for his own dick and he kneaded it gently between his thumb and forefinger.

He stared at them for the next few minutes as his cock slowly grew and thickened under the ministrations of his hand. Soon it was large enough for him to get all of his fingers around; after that, he started wanking it properly, sweeping his loose brown foreskin back and forth across the darkened head of his cock. His balls jumped around between his legs, dangling down into the toilet bowl.

Then he got up from the toilet and knelt down in front of the hole. In the couple of seconds I could see into Gareth's cubicle, I managed to see that my brother was bending over, staring down into the bowl of the toilet in there. It looked as if he was gripping the toilet seat with one hand and rocking gently with the rhythm of his other hand on his cock.

Was he having his arse licked like the guy I'd seen a few weeks earlier? Or was he bending for another reason?

My brother wouldn't allow a guy to actually fuck him, would he?

Would he?

The guy in the suit crouched down and peered through the hole, clearly fascinated by whatever was going on behind Gareth's bending body. His arm beat frantically at his own cock, the rhythm of his elbow thumping the partition quite blatantly.

Was Gareth actually being fucked?

I really wanted to know; I don't know why but it seemed quite important that I find out how far he'd go.

I knelt down on the filthy floor of my own stall, taking care to avoid the wet patches, and peered beneath the partition.

I saw the white arse of the guy in the suit, splayed open in his crouched position and with a thick line of wiry black hair bristling out of his crack. His tanned balls jiggled about between his legs to the rhythm of his hand on his cock.

I looked past him and into Gareth's cubicle.

My brother's trainers were directed forwards towards the toilet with his jeans and underwear in a tangle around his ankles.

The other guy was kneeling behind him. His bare knees were on the floor and his own jeans and underwear around the black leather boots he was wearing.

So that was what was going on: Gareth was having his arse eaten out. I wondered what it felt like.

Within just a few seconds of me looking at them, the guy in the combat jacket got to his feet and shuffled closer to Gareth. The fronts of his boots were almost touching the backs of Gareth's trainers.

I heard a wrapper being torn and the guy in the suit whispered an encouraging, "Yeah!" His balls started jiggling more frantically.

After a little more shuffling around in my brother's cubicle – Gareth struggling to open his legs further and the guy in the combat jacket having to strain onto tiptoes – the two guys' feet settled into position and I realised that my brother was now receiving the other lad's cock into his arsehole.

Again, I wondered how it felt.

The guy in the suit whispered something into them and then stood up. I got up and sat back on the toilet seat to see what happening through the hole.

His hips were thrusting towards the hole like the guy in the combat jacket's had been. The lower half of his arse was exposed beneath his jacket and white shirt and his pale buttocks wobbled slightly with every buck of his hips.

I realised that my brother was sucking one guy's cock while he was being fucked by the other. All these weeks when I'd been sitting outside thinking he was chronically constipated; I was almost amused, now, at how naοve I'd been!

The guy in the suit pulled away from the hole after a minute or so and I saw Gareth's face, with an expression of intense pleasure on it that I'd never seen before, at the hole.

The guy in the suit knelt down and whispered something. Gareth stared blankly through the hole at him for a few seconds, so the guy repeated it and then Gareth smiled and nodded.

The guy in the suit stood up and reached down to get something from the trousers around his ankles. Then he stood up again and wanked his cock while he waited for the lads in the next cubicle to adjust their positions.

Abruptly, Gareth's cock stabbed through the hole, looking so red and stiff that I'm sure it must have been sore. It bobbed around to the rhythm of what was happening behind him.

The guy in the suit smiled and knelt down to gently lick at my brother's large cock. He was very tender with it, no doubt aware of how swollen it looked, kissing the throbbing bell-end and licking the precum from it.

Then he tore open the packet he'd extracted from his pocket and expertly rolled the condom from it down Gareth's curving erection.

He spat on his fingers and worked a little of the moisture into his hairy arse. Then he shuffled around, backing himself towards the partition, and, with both hands, slowly worked my brother's cock into his arsehole.

This was amazing! I would never have dreamed that a guy could fuck someone through a toilet wall! It just wouldn't have occurred to me in a million years.

It took the guy in the suit about a minute to work Gareth's cock into himself, opening his legs as wide as he could and bending forwards as he struggled to accommodate such a large organ. Halfway through, he had to fumble at his top button and yank his tie down: he was sweating at the excitement of what he was doing.

After he'd succeeded in opening his arse enough to get Gareth's cock at least partway into it, he started pushing his backside back and forth against the partition, almost like he was wanking my brother's cock with the grip of his arsehole. Then his hand went back to his erection – I happened to notice a wedding ring on it – and he started masturbating himself quickly and roughly.

I peered beneath the partition again, wanting to confirm in my own mind what was going on.

As I expected, there were three pairs of feet standing in a row, all facing towards me. The guy in the combat jacket's black boots at the back, Gareth's trainers right in front of him and the black shoes of the guy in the suit in front of Gareth.

It was as I'd assumed: Gareth was fucking the guy in the suit while the lad in the combat jacket was fucking him. One guy doing it both ways at the same time: again, the idea would never have occurred to me as a possibility.

I was amazed that Gareth was doing this. Not because I thought it was wrong or disgusting or illegal or whatever: I just wouldn't have expected that my brother, usually so quiet and introspective, to have the guts to have sex with strangers in such a public place.

It might sound silly but, even then and after everything I'd seen, the possibility of him being gay just didn't occur to me. He was, quite obviously, having sex with other males, but it seemed to me that it was just a step up from what I'd been doing – what we'd both been doing – when we'd been watching two men having sex a few weeks earlier. It was an act of curiosity; the seizing of an opportunity.

I was in no doubt that he'd done similar things before, probably countless times, but I suppose I just thought he was taking advantage of having a free suck and fuck. I wasn't too eager to follow my brother's example – the thought of having another guy's cock in my mouth or, worse still, up my bum just didn't appeal to me – but if Gareth was happy to give as well as take, then that was his business.

Once, at boarding school, a boy in the next year group up from mine had offered to wank me off in the showers. I'd made sure no-one was around and I'd let him; he'd been pretty good at it. I hadn't considered that to be a 'gay' thing, at least not on my part, and I suppose I regarded what Gareth was enjoying now in a similar light.

My thoughts were disturbed by the click of a cubicle door. I looked back over at the feet beneath the partition and saw that the guy in the combat jacket had let himself out of the stall. He must have cum inside my brother's backside, zipped himself up and fled.

Gareth's trainers were still facing the backs of the man in the suit's shoes, almost touching the back of his dark blue trousers which were trailing on the floor.

I got back up and sat on the toilet again.

Peering through the hole, I saw the man in the suit really enjoying being fucked by my brother. He was bent forwards, working his arse back and forth against Gareth's cock poking through the hole, wanking himself with a hand that was a blur.

He must have noticed a movement in my direction and leaned over towards the hole I was looking through. Seeing my eye, he grinned and gave me the thumbs up, still pumping at my brother's cock with his rear.

Then he took his hand from his cock and pointed at it with his hand, gesturing for me to come into his cubicle, presumably to suck it or be fucked by it while he was, in turn, being fucked through the hole.

I smiled and shook my head, not considering that he couldn't see either gesture.

Just then I heard a grunt and realised that it was Gareth reaching his climax. My brother was shooting his cum into a thirty-odd year old guy's arse through a toilet wall! It seemed unbelievable; almost comical.

I got out of my cubicle and left the gents, aware that I was probably disappointing the guy in the suit by not tapping at his door.

Gareth took a few minutes to join me. I'd sat myself down on the bench outside the gents, hoping that the redness of my face would fade before he came out.

If he noticed I looked a little flushed, he didn't say anything about it. He was just his normal, quiet and slightly sullen, self.

I asked him, "Everything okay?" as we walked towards the town.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"I dunno. I thought you were walking a bit funny."

He shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe I pulled something."

"Sitting on a toilet?"

He chose not to answer and just stared ahead.

On the bus on the way back, I told Gareth that I was getting tired of our weekly trips to Watford.

He turned to face me and asked, "What's up?"

"Nothing, really. I just get sick of sitting outside those toilets."

"I don't take that long, do I?"

"You were nearly an hour today. I get really bored. I could be out with my mates and stuff."

He nodded and faced the road ahead again.

I tried: "Couldn't you use the loo at home before we left? Then we'd get more time to spend together, shopping and stuff. I like that part..."

He thought about what I was suggesting for what seemed like ages; just staring blankly at the buildings and the street lights we were driving towards, mulling it over.

Eventually he replied, "I need to go into the toilet when we get there... I can't help that."

"Can we agree, then, that you have just five minutes in there or something?"

He turned to me and said, curtly, "No."

"Okay. So count me out."

And from then on, he always went alone.