I was nervous as I walked towards the public toilet. It wasn’t surprising. I was a shy, timid lad, and it was a bit risky for me.

The thing was. I was like all 14-year-old boys, in a constant state of arousal. Not that I had much experience. In fact, I had no experience, not even kissing, let alone fumbling with the girls I craved.

It wasn’t surprising with my skinny body and short height of 5 feet 5. I had been called cute with my big doe blue eyes and dark hair, but I was more baby-faced than ruggered.

It was the reason I was making my way to the public toilet. My friend had joked about what men got up to in them and, at the time, laughed along with him, but the idea had slowly consumed me. The thought that you could just go somewhere and receive a sexual act excited me.

I considered myself straight. My interests and fantasies revolved around women and the girls I liked, but the more I thought about being touched, Even if it was by a guy, it made me so aroused.

It was why I found myself here. Right now, I am entering the public toilet on my way home from school. The days were drawing in, so the light was fading, and I didn’t feel so exposed when I took the lane that led to the car park that had the only toilet in our town.

It was a shabby little brick block built in the 1960s. One end for the guys and one for the women, and my heart thumped in my chest as I pushed the door open and entered.

I found myself alone as I walked in. The only sound was the dripping water from the cisterns. The faint smell of disinfectant mixed with stale urine It was a dated interior. The walls were clad in old white tiles. The floor is cracked, dirty brown. The wall facing me had a long steel urinal trough. To the left are a couple of sinks housed in a worktop under the long, obscured window.

The other side had two blue-painted doors. Each one is a cubical with a toilet and wall-mounted cistern. Both tiled the same way with solid walls.

I pushed the first door open a bit more and walked in. The walls were covered in graffiti. I was curious to read them but felt silly just standing there doing it. Even though I was alone I slipped my school bag over my shoulder, placed it on the floor, unzipped my flys, and pulled out my already hardening cock. I guess the thrill of being here and not even wanting to go was exciting.

I started to read the obscene messages left on the walls as I held my stiffening cock in my hand. The descriptions of what they sorted or even did here had made my young cock as hard as iron.

I found myself starting to rub my length. I will say one thing in my favour was the size of it. Even then, I must have had a member of at least seven inchers. It looked even more impressive due to my small stature.

I was so engrossed that I suddenly realised someone was entering the toilet. I froze, scared like a rabbit in the headlights. My cock caressing stopped as I held it as the footsteps walked past the trough. The sound is gritty on the tiles.

I could feel my heart thumping in my chest as I listened. There was no sound, but I knew he was there at the trough. I could feel my cock lose its hardness slightly due to my nerves.

I started to feel silly. Sensing both of us standing where we were doing nothing. Should I move? I thought after some time. It may have been only a minute, but it felt like a lifetime for me.

Before I could decide, I heard his footsteps shuffling. He was moving. The light from the weak lightbulb that eliminated the toilet dimmed slightly. I knew he was standing behind me.

I just stood there, looking at the wall in front of me. I knew he was there for more than just using the facility, and I felt my cock starting to expand again very fast. I was nervous but very excited.

This was all new to me, and I wasn’t sure what to do. Finally, I gave myself courage and risked turning slightly to look over my shoulder.

A large bear of a man stood there, around 6 feet tall. He was maybe in his late sixties. bald crown with grey hair around his ears. His beady eyes were looking out through thick black-rimmed glasses.