It had been almost two weeks since that day in the library when The Guy jerked off in front of me. The image of what I saw under the table when I looked is still burned indelibly in my mind. The pools of cum puddled in the carpet and I even found stray splatters on my pants leg and one shoe. More of the milky stuff dangled down from beneath the table where it had splashed and now hung there like miniature stalactites in some unexplored cavern.
I caught a large drop of it on my finger and brought it out into the light and looked at it. I still had an erection, and looking at the fresh semen did nothing to help ease it. I brought it close to my nose and sniffed it, and the smell was heavenly. I couldn't believe it. For the first time in my life, I was touching and smelling the juices from the most secret parts of a man's body other than my own.
I couldn't resist temptation and my tongue slipped between my lips and licked away the fluid I had gathered on the end of my finger. I drew the cum into my mouth and, for the first time in my life, tasted another man's semen. My cock exploded. I had my first orgasm as a direct result of another human male.
There is a bathroom on that floor of the library that I use all the time. It's small and has only two urinals and one stall, but hardly anyone goes there, which is great for piss-shy people like me. Only twice since I began high school have I encountered another guy in that room. I made my way there after my orgasm finished, went into the stall, and took off my pants and underwear, then put my pants back on. I rinsed out my underwear in the sink, wrung it out, then took it back to the table and stuffed it into my book bag.
I started looking for The Guy the very next morning. I watched the crowds of students, looking for anyone with red facial marks. That should have narrowed it down drastically but I didn't see him. Every day, I went back to my table in the library, even during lunch, and waited, hoping he would come back. He didn't. And every night I would go home and masturbate as I reran that session in my mind.
Was he a figment of my imagination? Had I dreamt the whole thing? No, I hadn't. The dry cum was still underneath the table. I hadn't imagined it. So, where was he? A guy with red triangular facial marks would stand out like a grizzly bear in a field of snow. But there was no sign of him. I was beginning to wonder if he even attended the high school. Many non-students use the school library, so it wouldn't have been unheard of.
I continued looking for him, though. Still, there was no sign of him. My memories of him were still strong, but I stopped looking for him by the middle of October. It had happened, but it would never happen again. At least, that's what I thought.
I was alone at my table on another Friday night. The only other person up there with me, a girl with long bubble gum pink hair who was in the same Gym class as me sat at another table entirely. Outside of class she's a really nice person and someone I wouldn't mind becoming friends with; but after an incident were she punched a guy so hard that his body made a dent into a wall, after he called her "billboard brow", I kind of stood clear of her.
After about an hour or so she left. So, for the most part, I was alone.
It was a few minutes after eight when I headed off to the bathroom. I stood at the urinal instead of going into the stall. I hadn't seen another person for over an hour, so I felt pretty safe using the urinal without someone walking in on me and catching a peek. Even then, it took a minute or so to get things flowing.
I finished pissing and was squeezing out the last drops before giving it a final shake when the door opened and someone came in. My eyes locked on the tiles in front of me and I rushed to get myself back in my pants as fast as I could. The boy stepped up to the urinal to my left. I heard the zipper opening as I stuffed my dick back in my underwear, and then he leaned forward a bit to extract his own dick from its confines.
I saw a flash of red!
My hands froze and my eyes moved all by themselves. I had no control over them. There was The Guy, standing shoulder to shoulder with me at the urinals. He was looking straight ahead as he stood straight up again. A moment later, I could hear the first splashes of his piss hitting the porcelain. Like I said, I had lost all control. My head turned slightly and my eyes moved down. He was holding his cock with his left hand, so I could see the head and a bit of shaft. The head was beautifully shaped, nice and round and purplish in color. The rim flared into an incredible helmet. It looked about the size of a small walnut. I caught a gimps of a circumcision ring.
So that's one thing we have in common I thought to myself.
The Guy was not shy about pissing in front of me, and he must have been holding it for a long time. He kept pissing and pissing. His fingers suddenly squeezed his shaft, stopping the flow. A few drops fell from the tip into the bowl, and then he released his grip and the piss shot out again and hit the back with a loud splash. Again he squeezed off the flow and again he torpedoed the porcelain. A third time, and then a fourth. And each time he did it, his cock grew a bit, the head becoming larger and more flared. The shaft thickened and extended. More of his cock came into view. After the fourth squeeze, he let the remainder flow until he was drained.
He began to stroke out the final drops, but it quickly became apparent that it wasn't his only intention. His cock became longer and thicker as he leaned away from the urinal. It expanded with each stroke of his fingers until it was solid and standing straight out from his body, pointing upward at a slight angle.
His hands moved away from his cock and pushed at the waistband of his underwear until his balls came into view and he tucked the elastic beneath them. His left hand moved to the flush handle and he pulled down on it. The rush of water sounded in the small room, but his hand remained on the handle, leaving his cock completely exposed to my view.
For the first time in my life, I was looking at a real cock, hard and ready for action, and it was perfectly gorgeous. The head was now about the size of a small egg. The shaft about as thick as a toilet paper tube and at least half again as long. It was smooth and slightly veined, I could see the bluish tinge of the blood vessels beneath his milky skin.
I glanced quickly at his face. He was still staring straight ahead, so my eyes returned to his cock. And so did his hand. This time, his fingers and thumb wrapped around it and he began to stroke himself.
In a rush I finished tucking myself away before my own hard-on got too big to manage and pulled up the zipper. My hand slammed down on the flush handle and I turned away from him, about to head for the door.
"Please," The Guy said. "Don't leave."
I stopped and turned back to him. He was looking at me.
"Don't go."
He stood there looking at me as his hand slid up and down his cock. I could only look at his adorable face for so long before my head tilted down and my eyes found his crotch again. When I saw it, his wonderful cock swelled and a soft moan came out of his throat. The Guy wanted to be seen. He was showing off for me. I turned back to face him and his body turned toward me and he faced me full on as he stroked his meat.
Impulsively, my hand reached out toward it. Immediately, The Guy stopped stroking and stepped back. His right hand pulled his cock flat against his stomach and his left hand came forward and covered himself, keeping his cock away from me.
"Don't touch me," he warned. His face contorted into a sneer showing his curiously sharp teeth. "If you touch me, I'll leave."
I yanked my hand away. The last thing I wanted him to do was to leave. I didn't move away, but I didn't do anything else, either, except stare at his crotch.
A few seconds later, when he was certain I wasn't going to touch him, The Guy moved his left hand to his balls and his right took up its stroking once more. He wasn't in any hurry. He simply jerked off slowly and leisurely.
It didn't dawn on me at the time that he was whacking away while we were standing little more than an arm's length away from the door. Anyone could have walked in and seen him standing there, and there would be no way to hide what he was doing. Even worse, it didn't dawn on me until later that night that I realized that, had anyone walked in on us, they would have seen me standing there, staring at the chocolate-haired hunk in front of me.
At that moment, though, I didn't even think about that. I was seeing a boy and I was seeing balls and I was watching him masturbate. It was the only sex I'd ever had, such as it was, and I wasn't going to sit out on it.
The Guy cupped his balls in his hand, squeezing them carefully and gently for a few seconds, and then he released them and raised his hand to his nose and inhaled. He moaned for the second time. Soon enough, though, his hand was back on his nuts, the fingers cradling them and his index finger scratching at them and drawing patterns on them with his fingernail.
He continued to tease his nuts as his other hand traveled up and down his cock shaft from the swollen cockhead rim to the base. A mat of dark hair surrounded the base of his cock. The Guy was all natural. He stroked his cock for several long, enjoyable minutes, and I watched. And then his hand stopped. He leaned forward slightly, hunching his upper body and looking down at his cock. His mouth opened a bit and his bottom lip drooped down and his tongue appeared, pushing a huge glob of saliva to his lip. The spit gathered on his lower lip and hung there as he moved himself into position, and then it started to drop. Down it stretched, closer and closer to his cockhead, still attached to his lip with a long thick string of saliva. Lower and lower it dropped and the string drew thinner and thinner, and suddenly it snapped and the ball of spit fell squarely on the waiting cockhead.
The Guy moved his hand to the head of his cock, the fingers rubbing the saliva over it. The hand moved away again as a second mouthful of spit landed there as well. This time, the hand wrapped around the head and began to twist it, sliding over the smooth, purplish skin, then letting it go, returning to its original position, and twisting again. He did this over and over again, twisting and squeezing and teasing him to greater heights of ecstasy. A groan escaped my throat this time.
When the spit was rubbed in and his hand no-longer slid over the flesh, he moved his hand back to the shaft and began some serious stroking. The familiar popping sound began.
His intent was clear now. He was stroking to make himself cum. His tireless hand took up an ever-quickening rhythm along his shaft. His chest started to heave beneath the white T-shirt he wore, his nipples poking out the cotton material into tiny, round pyramids.
The popping sound became more pronounced and a soft slapping sound could now be heard as he beat his meat. Faster and faster his hand moved. I looked up into his face. His eyes were narrowed now and his mouth still drooped open, but his gaze was locked on my face as he looked at me watching him jerk off. This was his thrill. This is why he did it. He liked to have someone watching him jerk off, and, for some reason, he had picked me to be his audience.
My eyes moved back down to his crotch again. He was nice to look at, but the display at his crotch was nicer. He began some serious pounding now. His whole arm moving with only one purpose. His fingers held his cock in a death grip, squeezing so hard that his knuckles were white. His mouth opened giving me a view of all four of his unusually sharp canines. All the while his moans and groans became louder.
Faster his hand moved and the piss slit opened up. The popping sound stopped as his cockhead began to swell, pulsating like a breathing bag. His body turned slightly, his hips almost aimed at the door now. I had a sideways view of him. His left hand squeezed his balls in tempo with his stroking right hand and the sounds of him sucking in breath joined the other sounds bouncing off the tiles in the room.
And then it happened.
The first shot of cum flew out of his cock, arching high and far, falling to the tiled floor and exploding on contact. A second and third stream followed. He caught the fourth and fifth jets of jizz with his left hand and moved it quickly to his mouth, licking it away as more cum poured from his cock. Two more weaker shots followed before the semen began to flow out instead of shoot out, falling in a puddle at his feet.
I watched in total fascination, witnessing for the first time in my life another man's orgasm, and for the second time, I was cumming in my own jeans without once having touched myself.
It seemed an eternity before his cum stopped flowing and his cock twitched to push out the last drops of manly fluid onto the floor. The Guy continued stroking gently after that until his cock became soft. With a final sigh of pleasure, he hooked his thumb into his underwear and pulled it out and up, tucking his jewels securely back into their vault.
He zipped up his jeans and hooked the button, and then he looked at me and said, "Thanks." Without another word, he headed for the door.
"Wait!" I said. "Please! Who are you? How do I find you?"
He stopped with his hand on the door handle. Then his head turned toward me and he smiled. "I'm your friend," he said, "and don't try to find me. You won't." And then he gave me a toothy grin. "But I'll find you."
He turned back to the door, pulled it open, and left me alone.
I stood there, staring at the closed door for several minutes, imagining my new friend as he walked through the library and into the night. He would find me. I knew this would not be the last time we did this together.
I rushed to the stall and locked the door behind me, pulling off my jeans and underwear and putting my jeans back on. I took my briefs back out and turned on the taps in one of the sinks and then I looked at the flowing water for a few moments. I looked down at the cum-soaked underwear in my hand and turned off the faucets.
I took my underwear back to the spot on the floor where all The Guy's cum lay and I bent down and wiped it all up. I stuffed my underwear into a side pocket of my book bag, threw the bag over my shoulder, and then I headed for home. . . and my bed.