Last Friday the campus was deserted. The secretary in the main office was gone. I walked down hallways so empty that the motion-sensor lights were off.
The food service was closed, so I had to walk all the way across the street to get lunch.
The campus gym was closed for remodeling, so I would have to go to the YMCA later. But I had a more pressing problem: I had to use the bathroom.
When I have to sit down, I don't use the restrooms in my building -- they're heavily used, and so rather gross (a surprising number of college students don't know how to flush), and not at all private. I use the one in the campus gym -- closed! or the one upstairs in the Business Building -- out of order!
Ok, Performing Arts, second floor.
The only other secluded, non-gross restroom I could think of was on the third floor of the library, quite a walk, but...I had no choice!
I climbed the stairs to the third floor. There were three students in the study area, at separate tables: a girl, a cute Hispanic guy, and a young-looking Middle Eastern guy.
I was curious about the cute Hispanic guy taking notes from a book -- classes were over! So I walked past and took a peek: pharmacology. He must be working on a late paper.
He looked up as I passed and stared at me suspiciously. He was slim, with a round face, prominent eyebrows, and sensual lips. Long, thin arms, square hands.
The Middle Eastern guy was working on his laptop: all I saw was black hair, a thin eyeglassed face, and a red t-shirt. He looked very young. I wondered if he was a newly-admitted student on a tour, taking a break in the library?
I didn't want them to think I was there just to use the bathroom, so I crossed the room and headed for the PQ Section, French literature. I browsed through Medieval, Renaissance, 19th Century, and turned the corner to a dead end with 20th Century.
I almost tripped over a guy sitting on the floor, reading an old book.
"No problem," he said, looking up briefly. He was tall and thin, with black hair and a serious tan, wearing a purple university shirt and jeans.
I was already in this corridor, so I had to pretend to be looking for something. I picked out a book on Gide and walked past the floor guy again, through the quiet study area. I put the book down on one of the tables and headed to the restroom.
It was a long, narrow room. You walked past the sinks into a little alcove with thick, heavy walls, for the urinals, and then another alcove with two very large stalls. I chose the farthest one and sat down.
Then I heard the far door swing open.
I'm gunshy -- I can't do anything with someone else walking around outside, not even a boyfriend. I would have to wait for him to urinate, wash his hands, and leave.
He didn't urinate. Was he just standing there, admiring himself in the mirror?
Maybe he didn't realize that there was a guy in here! I coughed to let him know.
Now he walked toward the urinals -- and past them. He stood outside the toilet stalls, as if trying to decide on one. I was invisible -- he wouldn't know mine was occupied. I coughed again, to let him know.
He opened the door to the other one, went in, dropped his pants, and sat down. I saw his tennis shoes and jeans, and a little of his tan socks.
Great -- now I would have to wait until he finished his business. I pulled out my cell phone and waited for the sound of...you know.
He must be gunshy, too. So we would play the waiting game. I tapped my foot impatiently..
Was this...tea room trade?
But this was the University library! I was a faculty member! Besides, I had an apartment. I could go on Grindr.
He was aroused: not a Kielbasa, a Bratwurst, but thick as a beer can, and close enough to touch.
I reached down and wrapped my hand around it. He moved forward until his cock was sticking out from under the stall.
I got on my knees, crouched on the cold linoleum floor, and started licking the head. He pushed it through even farther, arching his back.
I went down on it, steadying myself against the wall. It was an uncomfortable position!
This is silly! I thought. Invite him home!
I thrust up and down. He was breathing heavily. I reached out and stroked his balls, licked the huge mushroom head. He arched his back farther. Some more thrusts, more tongue action. Soon he let out a little cry and pumped out his load.
He stood, pulled up his pants -- he was still partially aroused -- and left.
I returned to the toilet seat, flushed with erotic satisfaction. I finished my business, washed my hands, and returned to the quiet study area. Hispanic and Middle Eastern guy and the girl were still occupying their tables. Floor guy was gone.
Which of the three did I go down on? I couldn't tell by the skin color, size, shape, or any other factor.
I sat down and read my book, trying to make eye contact with one of the guys, or both.
Middle Eastern guy looked up and smiled.
That's not proof positive, of course, but...
I might have to use the restroom again on Monday.
See also: A Glory Hole at a Rest Stop in Arkansas; Tracking Down the Glory Hole Boy.