Owen was sitting on top of the toilet in the last stall, his boots spread wide, sucking his lollipop. “You want a taste?” he taunted, holding out the lollipop, his tongue stained cherry red. I wanted more than a taste. I wanted to fucking devour him.
“Your sorry ass is coming out with me tonight,” my roommate Finn had insisted earlier that evening.
“Ugh. Just leave me alone,” I protested.
“Dude,” Finn scoffed. “You haven’t left this apartment since Reese dumped you two weeks ago. You need to get out. You need to get laid. It’s the only way you’re gonna move on.”
“Fine,” I acquiesced, rummaging through the pile of neglected laundry in the corner of my room for something to wear.
“Put on your CK jeans—the tight ones,” Finn insisted. “They make your dick look huge.”
Thirty minutes and one Uber ride later, we were standing in line to get into Club Throb, the new gay club in the Village.
“Christ,” I groaned, spotting several guys in line wearing cowboy boots and Stetson hats. “You didn’t tell me it’s country western night.”
“Like it fucking matters,” Finn objected. “The only goal here tonight is to get your dick wet.”
Once inside, the dance floor was a sea of twinks, clad in boots and Daisy Dukes, grinding up against any warm body that parted their waters while Tim McGraw blasted from the DJ booth.
“See anything you like?” Finn asked as we sipped our vodka tonics at the bar and looked out at the dance floor. “There’s gotta be some piece of ass out there who you’d like to fuck.”
“Nothing yet,” I lied, for my eyes had settled on one particular guy on the dance floor. Tall and statuesque in a pair of boots, he looked cute as fuck with a lollipop stick hanging out of one side of his mouth. Dancing alone in the middle of the floor, a spotlight illuminated his every move. And then it happened—he looked toward the bar and locked eyes with me. I gave a bashful smile as he rolled the lollipop from one corner of his mouth to the other. And then he was parting the floor, making a bee line towards me.
“I’m Owen,” he smiled as he approached me, never taking the lollipop out of his mouth.
“Uh—I’m Martin,” I stammered. “And this is my roommate—” I turned toward Finn, but he had already abandoned me, leaving me to sink or swim on my own with Owen.
Never good at small talk, I suddenly felt dumb and awkward in front of Owen. Standing in front of me, his shirt undone to show off his lithe body, I realized he was several years younger than me, probably just barely old enough to get into the club. I found myself looking down at his boots, which appeared to be too big for him.
“They’re my dad’s boots,” Owen explained, noting I was staring at them. “I borrowed them for tonight. You kinda remind me of my dad,” he smiled.
“Jesus,” I laughed. “Because I’m older than you?”
“No,” Owen shook his head. “Because you’re, like, really handsome. You wanna dance?”
“Um—sure,” I answered, still taken aback that this cute, young guy was into me. “Lemme just finish this drink first.”
Unwilling to wait, Owen grabbed the vodka tonic out of my hand and, tipping it back with the lollipop still in his mouth, downed the drink in one, quick gulp. “Now it’s finished,” Owen winked, slamming the empty tumbler down on the bar top and leading me out into the crowd.
Our chemistry on the dance floor was unreal. Owen pushed his body against mine, grinding into me. He smelled amazing—an intoxicating mix of sweat and Sauvage cologne, with a slight undertone of cherries from his lollipop. Gyrating his ass against my crotch, my big dick hardening in response, there was no question that Owen was down to fuck.
“You wanna get out of here?” I shouted into his ear, struggling to be heard over a Rascal Flatts song that was booming through the club. “Come back to my place?”
“No. I want you inside me now,” Owen shouted back. “Meet me in the men’s room, last stall.” But before I could protest, Owen had slipped away from me, charging through the crowd towards the men’s room.
I’m no prude. I know guys fuck in the men’s room at gay clubs all the time, but shit like that had never been my scene. I felt conflicted. I liked Owen, and I really wanted to fuck him, but I couldn’t wrap my brain around a tawdry, toilet-stall fuck. Just then, my roommate Finn appeared at my side.
“What happened to the hottie, the one you were dancing with?” Finn asked, scanning the club.
“He—uh—he wants me to fuck his ass in the men’s room,” I explained hesitantly.
“Then why the fuck are you standing out here?” Finn demanded. “Get your ass in that men’s room and fuck the shit out of that hot, little twink. Dude. You need to live a little.”
Finn was right. I needed to live, and I needed to get over my bad breakup with Reese. Fucking Owen in the men’s room at Club Throb was just what the doctor ordered. Pushing my way through the crowd, I made my way to the men’s room.
Owen was sitting on top of the toilet in the last stall, his boots spread wide, sucking his lollipop. “You want a taste?” he taunted, holding out the lollipop, his tongue stained cherry red.
“Yeah,” I replied, taking his lollipop into my mouth, a burst of cherry on my tongue as I pushed the stick to the corner of my mouth. “But I want more from you than this fucking lollipop.”
“It’s all yours,” Owen responded, standing and dropping his pants, bracing himself against the toilet, his firm ass presented for my use. His hole looked wet and puffy—unquestionably used.
“You already had some cock in here tonight?” I asked, my finger probing his cummy hole.
“Yeah,” he turned back and winked. “One or two—or five,” he laughed. “Why not make it number six?”
Normally, I’m not the type to go around fucking sloppy cum dumps. But I couldn’t turn down Owen’s ass. He was hot as fuck, and his pink cunt, rimmed with a fine layer of downy fur, was just begging to be defiled. With his lollipop still in my mouth, I unzipped my pants, pulled out my hard eight-incher, and mounted Owen with one, quick thrust.
“Fuck, you’re thick,” Owen gasped, bracing himself against the toilet. “Damn, you’ve got a hole stretcher.”
“Glad you like it,” I replied, raising his ass to go deeper. His wet cunt felt incredible and was exactly what I needed. Grabbing Owen by the shoulders, I began a calculated assault on his ass, with the goal of dumping a massive load inside his used hole.
“Yeah, fuck me,” Owen moaned. “Fucking destroy my hole.”
Giving him his wish, I began to jackhammer his hole at a frenzied pace. My balls were slapping hard against his ass, when I looked over my shoulder and realized I hadn’t closed the stall door. A voyeuristic crowd of guys had gathered in the men’s room to watch us.
“Yeah—fuck his ass,” called out one guy.
“I’m next to plug him,” laughed another.
Plowing Owen’s ass with a crowd watching and cheering me on from behind was a major turn on. I wanted to last longer in his amazing cunt, but it was a losing battle. The cum rising in my shaft, I knew my load was imminent.
“I’m about to bust,” I warned Owen urgently, giving him one, last, deep thrust.
“Yeah, breed me,” Owen begged.
“Seed that faggot,” shouted someone in the crowd, just as my nuts contracted and expelled my load deep inside Owen, flooding his guts.
“Fuck, that was good,” I exhaled, pulling out of Owen, my load dripping from his wrecked hole with an audible splat on the tiled floor. “Lemme buy you a drink,” I offered Owen as I stuffed my spent cock back into my jeans.
“Um—I think I’m gonna stay in here a bit longer,” he replied, eyeing the eager crowd of horny guys who had gathered in the men’s room.
“Oh—uh—sure,” I agreed, suddenly feeling a bit dejected. “You want your lollipop back?” I offered, taking it from my mouth.
“You keep it,” Owen winked.
“I’d rather have your number,” I replied, sucking on the lollipop again. “I’d love to see you again.”
“Sure, man,” Owen agreed. “Give me your phone.” Owen quickly tapped out his number in my list of contacts, and returned the phone to me.
“Thanks,” I offered sheepishly, stepping aside as the next guy entered the stall, his pants already unzipped, his hard cock eager to be inside Owen’s wet, used hole.
Staggering back into the booming sound of the club, I tried to find Finn. I finally spotted him on the dance floor, grinding up against a burly bearded guy in leather chaps. Good for him, I smiled to myself. Leaving the heated frenzy of Club Throb, I stood in the cool night air of the sidewalk and summoned an Uber. Snug in my bed a half hour later, my balls emptied, I slept like a baby.
I waited three days before calling Owen, as I didn’t want to seem too desperate to see him again. With my heart in my throat, I dialed his number. A woman answered. The number he had given me was to a candy shop in SoHo, specializing in lollipops. She didn’t know anyone named Owen.
Fucker.
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