I’m back home from work, mid-afternoon. Legs shaky. That women’s public toilet at the neighboring station haunts me. Days ago, squatting over the grimy bowl, hygiene style, I spotted the walls crawling with dick sketches, spread pussies, crude fuck invites. Phone numbers. Glory hole offers. Even stories of gangbangs, vulgar as hell. Thought internet killed this shit. But no. Real exchanges. Women biting.
Then that inscription: ‘Look and tell me if my cock turns you on.’ No pic at first. Disappointing. But flipping the flush tank edge, there it was. Glossy black-and-white print. Thick veiny shaft, proud and hard. Not some mag rip-off. Real. Mine to steal? Nah, someone else’s bait. Smirked. Intrigued.
The Burning Pull to Return
Now, pussy throbs just thinking. Try ignoring. Fail. Heat floods my cunt. Happy marriage, rare wanks. But this pulls hard. Grab keys. Drive over. Heart pounds. Station quiet. Rush to cabins. Wrong one first. Similar scrawls, no magic. Wait. Mine frees up. Dive in. Lock.
New pic tucked same spot. Hand jerking a stiff prick. Pre-cum bead from slit. Gaping. Vulgar. Dirty. My juices soak through. Can’t stop. Skirt up, panties aside. Fingers dive in. Rub clit. Stare at that nasty cock. Shame burns. But fuck, so hot. Minutes. Boom. I cum hard, thighs quake.
Someone rattles door. Panic. Hold breath. They wait. Not another stall. Trapped. Flush. Open. Him. Old, unkempt. Sixty-plus. Balding, scruffy. Wild eyes. Long coat. Exhibitionist vibe.
“So, babe, like my dick?”
Mute. Frozen. Voice gravelly, soft. Blocks exit.
“Ladies’ room! Let me out!”
Tremble. Stupid word. ‘Ladies.’
“I know. Just say if you liked my cock pic.”
Persistent. Friendly tutoiement.
“…Yes, sir. Now move.”
“Come tomorrow. See the real thing.”
Steps aside. Escape. Legs jelly to car. Glances back. Safe.
Home. Shake it off. Realized: admitted looking. He’s hooked me as voyeur slut.
Next day. Free afternoon. Shopping excuse. But crave it. Drive. Sweat. Dizzy. Toilet empty. Dash to mine. New pic: close-up glans spurting cum. Instant flood between legs.
Door creaks. Footsteps. Him. Knows I’m here. Coat open, skirt up, thong down. Fingers ram pussy. Watch door gap. His shoes. Listening. Terror spikes thrill. Cum crashes. Moan escapes.
“That’s you! Love my cock? Heard you cum, slut!”
Sob. Trapped. He’ll force me?
“No fear, pretty. Just look at my shepherd’s stick. Seconds. Open. I’ll eye your cunt if you show.”
Petrified. Or horny? Want his gaze. His meat. Risk it all.
Raw Exposure and Explosive Release
Unlock. He pushes in. Locks. Face flushed. Predator.
“No harm. Eyes only.”
Zipper. Out springs monster cock. Huge. Beyond hubby’s. Eyes lock.
“Beautiful? Better live? Say it. You wanked to pics. I get off on your stare.”
Gape. Twice hubby’s size.
“Yes. Very big.”
He strokes. Gland bulges purple. Foreskin slides.
“Hot cock, huh? Want it stuffing your holes, bourgeois whore? My load bloating you. Show pussy!”
Crude words soak me. Insults ignite. Humiliated. Show.
Skirt hikes. Panties spread. Cunt bare.
“Fuck, slut! Gonna blow! Watch my jizz!”
Jets. First hits skirt. Sticky yellow blob. Second shoe. Endless pumps. I cream too.
Zips up. Smiles.
“You made me cum good. You too. Tomorrow. I know you. Just our vice.”
Gone. Stunned. Cum stains dry. Drive home. Ignore stares.
Sofa. Replay. His spurting prick. Dirty talk. Eyes raping me. Fingers plunge. Cum screaming.
Panic: ‘I know you.’ Stalked? Husband home. Hide mess. No sex. Crave his gaze only.
Morning. Soaked sheets. Hubby gone. Finger-fuck to memories. Know I’ll return. Let him touch. More.
Mailbox. Envelope. Early. His scrawl: ‘Tonight 8pm, you know. Show ass, we’ll show cocks!’ To be continued…