Thomas McKenna sat on the toilet in the grimy bathroom. He was tall, athletic and dressed in his usual jeans and letterman jacket. He was eighteen years old and sweating in the cool, dim space. The restroom was deep in the local park, nearly lost among twisting paths and the thick foliage. Thomas had heard whispers about it for years, and when he found it months ago, he regarded it as a child would look at a cemetery at night. Going in meant he would come out irrevocably changed - a confirmed homosexual.
A fag.
He wrestled with his desire to come and his fear of confirming what he already knew for months. But he was here now. He eyed the small toilet dispenser to his right and tried to move it. It came away easily, exposing a hole big enough for both hands about three feet from the floor. Thomas gingerly placed the dispenser behind him and waited.
He heard the door open and the scuffing of heavy boots on the gritty tile. A shadow passed in front of the hole. Thomas started when he saw the fingers emerging from the hole in the dim light. They were thick with black under the nails. Unsure what to do, he touched them. The tentative touch and warmth sent a jolt of electricity through Thomas' hand. He hadn't expected someone so young here today. The rumors always said that older men, seeking refuge from their lives. He took a deep breath, stealing himself, as the rough hand gently closed around his hand. The grip was firm but not overwhelming. His thoughts swirled with concern.
"You're sure about this?" a voice was gruff, but not unkind, whispered.
"Yeah," Thomas' voice cracked in his dry throat.
"Okay, okay. No need to rush. Take your time," said the voice, voice softer than it had been a moment ago.
The man squeezed Thomas' hand gently before pulling back slightly, giving him space.
Thomas heard the metallic jangle of a belt being undone and he turned to watch through the hole; his heart was racing. The sound of the belt buckle was like a gunshot in the quiet bathroom stall. Thomas' mind raced with images of his own fantasies, of the fear and the rush that came from this clandestine place. This was Thomas' first time, and who knew how many times it was for whoever was on the other side of the wall. Thomas reached out with a trembling hand.
Thomas touched the appendage that came through like it was a life grenade. The penis was flaccid, hanging over the balls and surrounded in dark thick wiry hair. The warm scrotum was about the size of a plum and fit neatly in Thomas' hand. He could smell the intoxicating musk of the man and the chemical smell of the garage on the man's skin.
Thomas heard the man take a deep breath as Thomas laid his hand on him, the warmth sending a shiver down his spine. Thomas touched it tenderly. He had to resist the urge to look through the glory hole to see the man's face. Instead, he focused on the moment, letting the tension in his body ease as he began to explore the man with tentative strokes.
Thomas tugged on the cock before him, willing it to life. It was circumcised and what he expected to be average. He watched it swell, the skin growing tighter and it became more difficult to manipulate the man's cock. Thomas spit on the pink head and used it as lube as he stroked.
A soft groan escaped the man's lips as he felt Thomas' touch become more confident. The way the kid handled him was surprisingly skilled for someone so inexperienced. He leaned against the stall wall, eyes closed, letting his head drop back.
"That's it," he murmured, the words escaping before he could catch them.
Thomas' mind swirled with a mix of arousal and a strange sense of comfort, feeling the weight of his secret ease just a little. Thomas felt emboldened by the man's sighs and moans. He tentatively sucked the top few inches of the man's cock. It had no real discernible taste except maybe salty. Thomas bobbed his head experimentally, unsure of what to do, but enjoying it, nonetheless.
The cock grew harder in the warm, wet embrace of Thomas' mouth. He heard a stifled groan, and his thoughts swirled in a tumultuous mix of pleasure and the stark reality of where he was. Thomas' tongue danced around the tip, as he gently sucked the man's glans. He watched through half-closed eyes as the man's hips continued to pump in rhythm with his mouth and hand. Above him, the man's hand gripped the edge of the stall, his knuckles white with tension as he fought the urge to push deeper into Thomas' mouth. He seemed to know better than to force things, and let things unfold at their own pace.
"Careful," the man breathed, his voice a little rougher.
"I'm sorry," Thomas apologized. "What did I do? It's my first time."
"It's alright," the voice was strained but reassuring. "Just... go slow, okay?" The man took a deep breath and leaned against the wall for support. "You're doing fine.
Thomas went slowly and carefully, trying to read the unseen man. He felt his own hard cock fighting for release. This was certainly clearing up a few things for Thomas, the star quarterback of his high school football team. Thomas who was involved in various school activities, Mr. Popular and in the running to be the valedictorian. Thomas was aware of the potential backlash if his secret were to be revealed - how would being a cock-sucking faggot affect his scholarship opportunities and the relationships he has worked so hard to build?
The man sighed and moaned softly at Thomas' inexperienced but earnest efforts. The tension in his body grew taut like a bowstring
"You're doing good, kid," he murmured, his voice barely audible.
Thomas backed off the dick and wiped his mouth. He stood up and undid his pants before turning and bending over. Thomas pressed his rear into the hole. He felt a rough hand on his ass cheeks, feeling the heat radiating off the smooth skin.
"You're sure?" the man asked, his voice thick with lust.
