Union Station


Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma, Consensual, Gay, BiSexual, Oral Sex, .

Desc: Sex Story: An encounter in the men's room of a train station.

I remember the sound of luggage rolling across concrete as he turned. The ripple he made in time frozen on my brain, the image of his sway. I stole that parting glance and tasted the air through which he had passed, brushing against me a sweet memory. He said something, or hinted at something perhaps but only to my eyes. It was understood, the secret that can be bought between men. In the past it went unnoticed by most, but things are a bit different now. A moment cannot be held at leisure. It cannot be savored that way. The ring on his finger said leave it, but the glint in his eye begged and beckoned.

People all around grabbed their belongings and scattered in all. Brip, brap, sputter. Wheels on tile. Click, clack, click, dress shoes and stiletto hills cut through the din with a rhythm ignored. I followed at a short distance and saw that she was laughing at something — that same girl he'd sat next to on the train. Part of me wondered if she was trying too hard. It wasn't my business, but I kept wondering.

A friend had been generous enough to offer me his spare bedroom for my little weekend holiday in Chocolate City. There had always been something about the air in Washington that allowed the little head to take control of all higher functions. It was evident in the eyes of every man. Symbolic islands drifting together pulled by the gravity of pulsing cocks. I thought I had drawn a line that I wouldn't cross, but the older I get the harder it becomes to see. I told myself as a consolation, he was ugly. But in truth, I wanted the sensation of his hips pressed against my thighs.

I was hungry. The smell of burgers with bacon, double meat and trans fats announced as neon beacons asking - clog thy willie? Me thinks not! Instant Chinese wasn't much better, but it wasn't as bad as the burger and fries.

The food court on the second floor proved interesting. I found a spot advantageous to people watching with all the gender bias I could put into the art. The "obvious" twenty somethings were wearing their jeans teasingly snug in the crotch and hips, cut low around the waist - the next reincarnation of fashion. I shot the obligatory glance at a fine woman here and there just to throw a little confusion to anyone who caught me staring. Old habit. Still single and horny at 42, perhaps I could have done things a bit differently. I wondered if I'd be telling myself that ten years from that moment. It didn't matter. Nature was calling.

I sipped more tea and kept an eye peeled on the bathroom to see who was going in, how long they stayed, and if instinct cast its veil. The traffic around the food court was pretty heavy and the layout of the restroom was all wrong. The lower level proved to be buzz worthy of what I was looking for. Finishing off the last of my snack, I headed toward the down escalator. There was a bookstore, coffee stand and a luggage shop that gave a partial view of who went in and out of the men's room. Not a lot of traffic between arrivals and departures, and the entryway provided plenty warning.

Turning into the bookstore I caught glance of a familiar profile out the corner of my eye. Pretending not to notice that he had noticed, I turned my back and picked up an issue of Ethnic Cuisine. His wife or so I thought, was saying something about the time. Something about a delay and souvenirs. Business. Kids. Crowded. Love. Concert. wonderful friend. A lot of cooing. She was definitely trying too hard! I stopped listening.

Shortly after they went to the seating area where he left her engrossed in the pages of a book and headed toward the toilet. After about a minute or so I figured he was involved in some serious number two or waiting. "Can I help you find anything?" His wife was an attractive woman, perhaps eight or nine years his junior. Why was I trying to figure that out?

"Sir?" I hadn't noticed the sales clerk speaking to me. She reminded me of Carol Burnett. I smiled graciously and put back the magazine.

"No thank you. I was just browsing." I left the store and headed toward the bathroom. Rounding the corner I slowed my pace intentionally as though trying to sneak up on a cat, kept my steps soft and pushed the door. He was standing at the urinal with two empty spaces to his right. No dividers. Perfect. I slid my bag over by the sink next to his and he turned to see who had walked in. I gave a polite nod and stepped over.

With practice you can check out a guys cock without him even knowing. The guy next to me still had work to do in that department. When I saw his head angling for my prick, I turned to look him in the eye and gave a half smile. Redness shot into his face. He swallowed, shifted then fumbled for his zipper. "So where are you headed" I asked, which threw him a bit and he just sort of stood there holding his dick not knowing whether to put it away or to play out the scene.

"Um. Actually a business trip" New York or some place East. I didn't really care what his answer had been. I just wanted to get my rise and get out.

"Business trip. With your wife?"

"She's not my wife" he started but then trailed off. I looked down at his cock and thrust my chin forward as if to point out that he wore a wedding band. Yes, he was married but the lady hanging on his arm was not the Misses.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Ma / Consensual / Gay / BiSexual / Oral Sex /