Anonymous

My eyes shot fully open as I felt the head of his cock pop into my ass. I heard a loud moan as I felt him slip slowly, inch by agonizing inch, into me. It took me a moment to realize that it was me moaning as my eyes focused on the water in the clean, white bowl in front of my face.

I had snapped into full consciousness suddenly, but it still took a few moments for my brain to slip completely into gear and ask the most important questions: where the hell am I? Who is attached to the baseball bat sized cock that's now starting to slowly fuck me?

The first question was relatively easy. I've never been fucked over a toilet before, but I've certainly used enough toilets to recognize the porcelain bowl I was leaning over. I'm not at home because my bathroom has a carpet floor, and I can feel that I'm kneeling on tile. Besides, I'm reasonably certain that I'm in a public toilet as I can feel the part in the front of the toilet seat digging into my stomach. Does anyone have a u-shaped toilet seat at home?

I still don't remember how I got here, my head is screaming, and the world is swimming in front of my eyes. Still, I pick my head up for a moment to look and see who is behind me. I catch a glimpse of metal piping in front of my face, and graffitied, beige partition to my left. Definitely a public toilet. But, when I turn around, all I see is a huge, calloused hand. He had quickly moved his hand off my hip, and he pushed my face back into the toilet bowl before I could get a look at him.

I grunted as he slammed into me even harder now. His right hand still on my hip; his left hand now firmly holding my head on the toilet. Thankfully, he seemed content to let me rest my head on my forearms on the back of the toilet seat. The limited view I'd had of his hand, and the force that he was fucking me with left little doubt that he was strong enough to put my face in the water if he decided to do so.

I remember heading out to a bar earlier this evening. The bar was a couple blocks over from my hotel, but it had looked interesting enough to try having a couple drinks at. Besides, I never like hanging out in the hotel bar. You never know who's around, and if I do get lucky, I don't want word to filter back to the office that I'm using these trips to meet men.

The bar was dimly lit with a few tvs in the corners playing various sporting events. I remember picking a seat at a table in the corner, and sitting back with a bottle of beer to watch a football game. That's where my memory starts to break down.

I remember being approached by a tall, muscular guy with short, dark, spiky hair. He was wearing a nice, blue striped shirt and khaki pants. He was exactly my type, physically, and I remember the impression that he was very friendly. I only remember bits and pieces of our conversation, but I definitely remember wondering why he was making such an effort to get me drunk as he bought shot after shot of tequila. I remember admiring his ass as he walked back to the bar for more shots one time, and wondering to myself how much longer he'd wait to invite me somewhere more quiet.

I hear myself moaning again as he's fucking me. The water in the toilet is starting to slosh around he's pounding into me so hard. He's not moving quickly, just incredibly forcefully. He pulls out until just the very tip of his cock is still into me. Then, he slams into me in one move until I can feel his pubes grinding into my ass. He pushes so hard into me that I get the feeling that he would push his cock right out my belly button if he could. He twists his hips around a few times, grinding himself into me as hard as he could, then slowly, so incredibly slowly, he pulls out until just the tip was left in me again. He was constantly changing his rhythm. Sometimes I would gasp in surprise as he slammed back into me before he was done pulling all the way out. Other times, he would leave just the tip in me for so long that I couldn't resist whimpering a little, wanting him back inside me.

I certainly couldn't complain about his technique as he fucked me. He felt incredible. Now, if only I could remember who it was, I could really enjoy this. Well, I would enjoy this if I knew who he was, and if we were somewhere safer. I didn't enjoy the thought of being caught like this in an unfamiliar bar that hadn't even given off a vibe as a gay bar, though given the circumstances, some gay men obviously hooked up here. More importantly, I tried to keep my mind off the activity that usually took place on the toilet that my face was now mashed into. I've bent over a counter once or twice before, but never a toilet. I was usually so much smarter and more cautious about the guys that I let get into my pants.

I wouldn't mind so much if I knew that it was the man in the blue shirt from the bar. I was certainly ready to let him fuck me even without him getting me this drunk. Or had i been drugged? I've never had my memory this trashed before. Was it Steve? No, Paul sounded right. Maybe Mike? God, I have no idea what his name is, if it's even him. I felt like such a slut.

I felt his right hand running up my naked back as he fucks me, and I suddenly wonder where my clothes are. I can still feel my socks on my feet and up my calves, but I don't think that I am wearing anything else. I don't even feel my shoes. I gasp as he pounds into me particularly violently, and I struggle to remember what happened to my tie. I liked that tie.

I don't remember anything between doing tequila shots with... let's call him Steve... and having his cock in my ass. Based on the slight taste left in my mouth, I assume I sucked him at some point tonight. At least I hope it was the guy fucking me and I haven't acted like even more of a slut than I realize.

Shit, I hope he's wearing a condom. I don't let guys fuck me bare, but I don't even remember him taking my pants off, I certainly don't remember getting a condom onto him. I've never hoped that a guy went through my pockets without my permission before, but if he had, he at least would have found the condom I always keep in my back pocket when I go out.

He's been fucking me for what feels like hours now. He must be close. How the hell am I going to get him to pull out. It's still risky, but it's at least slightly better than letting him cum inside me bare, isn't it?

I felt his weight shift as he put both his hands on my shoulders and leaned down over me. He wasn't really fucking me anymore. More like grinding into my ass, his cock all the way inside me, as he leaned down far enough to whisper into my ear. I could feel his hot breathe on my cheek as I hear, "does it turn you on to know that I'm going to cum in your ass?"

I did my best to shake my head. I was still too drunk to trust that words would come out properly.

He chuckled in my ear for a moment as he continued to grind into me. "Oh really? So this slut does have boundaries after all. You're willing to bend over in a public toilet for a guy you just met, but you draw the line at letting me cum inside you?"

His cock picked that moment to find a particularly good spot in my ass, and I just moaned.

"Ok then, so you don't want me cumming inside you." He pulled out and slammed all the way into me. "Does it turn you on to know that you don't have a choice?"

I whimpered as I realized that he was right. He felt like a bodybuilder. I probably didn't stand a chance under the best of circumstances. There was no way I could fight him off from this position while I was still so drunk or drugged or whatever.

"Please?" I managed to croak out.

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as he just laughed again and resumed fucking me.

"Please." He just kept fucking me. Faster now, clearly getting ready to cum. What would get his attention? "I... want to feel you... on my ass. Please"

He just laughed again. "Pull out of this sweet ass just to cum up your back? Not a shot."

Terror swept through me. Sure, maybe I've been a bit slutty over the years, but I always play safe. I'm obsessive about not letting guys into me unless they're wearing a condom. I know one time is probably no big deal, and he's already in me bare, but I was drunk and emotional. I slumped down into the toilet, going limp. "Please," I almost sobbed. "Anywhere else."

My heart leapt as I heard, "fine. I wouldn't want to be accused of forcing you or anything." My heart quickly sunk back down as his next words came out, "I guess I could be convinced to pull out if you really like to take it on your face."

I hate cum on my face. It always feels so demeaning, and it's impossible to clean off. The most recent guy who'd done it to me had shot straight into my eyes. It burned like hell. Asshole. I can't let... Steve... cum inside me bare though. A little pain and humiliation is better than HIV or hepatitis.

"Fine, yes. You can cum on my face."

He didn't even break his rhythm as he kept fucking me. "Like I said, I can be convinced if you really like it on your face. You'll have to do better than that."

He was only pulling part way out now before grinding back into me. He was fucking me fast and hard, and his breathing was getting heavier and heavier. I was running out of time. "Please sir. I want to watch you cum. I want to see that massive cock finishing for me. I want to feel you all over my face. I would do anything to feel your cum on my face."

The world was still fuzzy and swimming in front of my eyes, but the thought of him cumming in me bare was sobering me up fast. The horror of having to explain a positive test to my wife was like a shot of ice water directly to my brain. I can understand how people lift cars off of babies now.

He didn't answer me. He just grabbed my hair and pulled me back off the toilet. I felt my ass gape as he pulled out. He used my hair as a handle to spin me around and put me on my knees in front of him. I felt the cold porcelain of the front of the toilet digging into my back. The tiles under my knees now damp from my sweat.

I was face to face with his penis. I caught a glimpse of the odd, cherry red color of his cock before my eyes slammed shut. I was still too drunk for my stomach to handle that spin maneuver, so I shut my eyes and concentrated all my effort on not puking on this guys crotch.

My drunken brain finally registered what that bizarre color on his cock had been as I felt him drop the used condom on my forehead. I didn't even care about how I was going to have to clean my hair; all I could feel was the slimy part of the condom draped down the middle of my forehead. He's been essentially raping a guy drugged or drunk into submission in a public toilet, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that he's an asshole. At least he wasn't in me bare like I'd feared.

I hear him grunt loudly, simultaneous with a thick rope of cum splattering up over my nose, my right eyelid, and surely back into my hair. He grunts again. Another rope of cum lands further down the right side of my face, on my cheek and forehead. By the fourth or fifth grunt, I feel the tip of my cock running along my upper lip as he gives me a cum moustache. Again, asshole.

He pushed his cock between my lips as much as he could. I knew what he wanted, but I was done pleasuring this ass. His cum is cooling all over my face and in my hair, I can't open my eyes because there's cum on my eyelids, I feel his slimy, used condom across my forehead, and all I can taste on his cock is the latex and lube from the condom. He's lucky I'm avoiding puking on him, there's no way I'll be sucking his cock any more.

He gives up after a minute, and I hear the stall door open. I reach up to rub the cum out of my eyes so I can open them, but he is gone by the time I can see anything. He didn't even say goodbye. I feel so... used.

I shakily get to my feet, and I can see myself through the open stall door in the mirror above the sinks. I'm a mess. Naked, with cum all over my face, and an obviously used, cherry red condom draped across my forehead and back into my hair. My ass is sore and still gaping slightly, my face feels revolting, and I just want to go home.

I look around for my clothes and find my white undershirt, my grey pants, and my black shoes scattered all over the floor of the bathroom. I have no idea how we didn't get caught with the amount of noise we were making and my clothes all over the place. The pockets have been emptied on my pants. My cell phone, wallet, and keys were all gone. I didn't even care at this point. I just wanted to go home. My nice shirt, boxers, and tie were nowhere to be seen. I really liked that tie.

I did my best to use the sink and paper towels to wipe the cum off my face. I got my face reasonably clean, but my hair was hopeless. I just had to move quickly through the bar and back to my hotel room to get the rest of the way cleaned up. The bar was dark, and it must be night time outside by now, so I had some hope. The brightly lit hotel lobby would be humiliating, but there wasn't much I could do about that at this point.

I steadied myself against the door for a moment. Then, I pulled it open and stepped out into the bar. Immediately, I could see that something was wrong.

The man in the blue shirt was nowhere to be seen. No one else was at the bar or at the tables either. All the tvs were off, and the place was almost deserted. There were two hulking bouncers standing at the door with their arms crossed. Between the bouncers was a large, older white guy. Where the bouncers looked like pure muscle, he looked like he hadn't seen a gym a day in his life. He was probably 6 inches shorter than the bouncers, but still taller than me. He glowered at me as I walked toward the door.

My heart sunk lower and lower into my stomach as he stared me down. I knew what was coming, my face burning with shame. He just silently stared me down as I got closer and closer to him. He was rooted to the spot, not moving out of my way. I stopped, two feet away from him with no way to get by him and the bouncers. Then, I heard the two most terrifying words I've ever heard in my life.

"Have fun?"

I stared at his feet with no idea what to say. My ass still sore and the room still spinning from the drinks. I had cleaned myself as best as I could, but I still felt like I had hot cum all over my face as he stared at me. I had thrown the condom away, but I felt like I could still feel its slime cooling across my forehead.

"Nothing to say for yourself? A gay hooker's been working my bar for months now. Harassing my customers, fucking up my bathroom, getting me in trouble with the cops. You wouldn't have any idea about that either, would you?"

Hooker? Months? I've only been in town for a few days, and I certainly didn't get paid for what had happened back there. I looked at him and shakily said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh really? So you weren't just fucking in my bathroom?"

I stared at his feet again, my face burning in shame. I mumbled something so incoherently and quietly that even I didn't know what I was trying to say. I flinched as his hand came out toward my face. He didn't hit me though. Instead, he reached a finger out and ran it along my hairline. When he pulled it back, we could both clearly see the glob of cum on the tip of his finger.

Each bouncer silently plopped a massive hand on each of my shoulders, and I fell to my knees in front of them. I could feel the tears running down my face as I looked up at what was clearly the owner from on my knees. He had his phone in his hand, dialing what I could only assume was the police.

"Please." I begged. "Please don't call the police."

The phone was at his ear. My life flashed before my eyes. My wife finding out, getting fired from my job, my friends and family hearing it reported that I was accused (even falsely) of being a prostitute.

"Yes, this is Mr. O'Neil of O'Neil's bar and grill. I'd like to report that I've made a citizens arrest. Sure, I'll hold."

"Please," I sobbed. "I'll do anything."

The owner just raised his eyebrows at me as he reached to the front of his pants and lowered his zipper. The phone was still up to his ear as he said, "you have until I'm off hold to convince me."

I crawled across the floor to him and lowered his pants to his ankles. His hard cock fell out of his pants and onto my face. He tasted musky as I took him into my mouth as enthusiastically as I've ever sucked a cock in my life. He wasn't my type at all, and he smelled like he hadn't had a shower all day, but unemployment and divorce were even less my type.

I hadn't been sucking him for more than a few moments when I heard him on the phone again. "Yes? No, it looks like I actually don't have anything to report now. Yes, it looks like he's decided to pay up. I apparently just needed you to scare him a bit. Thanks for that. Oh yes, it looks like he has a long night ahead of him, but I think we'll be able to solve this as private citizens."

My heart sunk as I heard about my "long night." I just wanted to go home. I tried to concentrate on the cock in my mouth, but I couldn't help noticing the bouncers lowering the blinds and starting to rub their own crotches.

I heard him on the phone above me again after a long pause, and the gravity of my situation really began to hit home. "Yes, of course you can come by anytime tonight, officer. I'd be happy to have him do some work for you or any of your squad. Of course I'll call back if he decides to resist any more. Let me know when you're going to drop by, and I'll have him ready."

I tried to focus on the taste in my mouth, his gray pubic hair in front of my face, the bead of sweat starting to trickle down his inner thigh. Anything but the situation I was in.

I felt his hands on my head when he hung up the phone. "It looks like you've convinced me. You'll be repaying me and my staff for all the trouble you've caused. I'd move quickly too if I were you. I've heard that Officer Daniel and his squad can be quite vicious when they catch a whore like you. Do you understand?"

I tried to ignore the now naked bouncers on either side of me and the terrifying thought of what was in store for me as I redoubled my efforts on the owner's cock.