It's monday morning. Overcast , but warm. The first day this year that I've managed to bike to work. I pull round to the side of the building, beep my door card and awkwardly waddle my bike through the too small side door.
The little basement of my office building is part car park, part bike racks and part storage., Weird stacks of things loom in the corners, covered in dust and fluorescent lights. What it does have, is showers.
I lock up my bike, and head into the showers. There's the big shower room first, one shower, lockable and clearly designed to be the disabled shower room, until they realised that it was up three steps and completely inaccessible. Predictably, it's locked. At the end of the corridor, past the door to the ladies shower room into the men's shower room.
There's three little stalls in here. I generally head for the end one, it's round a corner and a little out the way. There's a guy in the changing room this morning, Joe, Jim? Something like that. I think he's a civil engineer of some sort? Tunnels maybe? Someone from the third floor anyway. I nod, vaguely companionably and head to the benches at the end of the changing room.
I start to unpack my bag, unfolding my shirt and suit jacket and hanging them up, and generally taking just a bit longer to get ready to shower than strictly necessary, hoping that Joe will finish dressing and get out before I need to get undressed.
It's not that I mind being naked so much, I'm not really shy. But there's just something weird about working with people who know what you look like naked. Or at least I think so. It makes meetings just a little more awkward that they need be.
Finally, Jim leaves, and I strip off my remaining cycling clothes, toss them on the bench and head into the shower. I turn on the water, too cold... too hot... just right and start soaping off the stink of my commute. I hear the door of the shower room open, and shut.
So much for my privacy. Perhaps I can just take my time with a long, soapy luxurious shower and they'll be done before I leave. I grab more shower wash and stick my head under the shower head to enjoy the heat.
Suddenly, the cubicle door opens!
Before I can turn, or yell, something pink covers my vision. A wet washcloth over my face and I'm slammed into the wall. My feet slip and a fall against the wall, my hands grasping the slick tiles to stay upright. I feel the cloth pulled tight around my head and hands grab my wrists. I hit the wall face first, and slip down to my knees. My wrists still held tight.
The tile wall is cold, the floor is hard on my knees and I'm dazed, dizzy and confused.
The stranger behind me pulls at my wrist, nearly picking me up from the floor and pull sme around to face him. In a matter of seconds I've gone from standing, soapy and warm under a steamy shower jet to kneeling, blindfolded in front of a total stranger. He pulls my wrists forward and I begin to understand.
I feel the hard tiles beneath me, the hot water spattering on my head, and now, his hard cock on my lips. I'm still dizzy, and confused, but I understand now what's happening. I understand what he wants of me. I shake my head. I don't want this. I can't do this.
Clearly, this is not an acceptable response, my wrists are janked forward and I collide, heavily with his knee. I'm dumped back to my kneeling position, and I feel his cock again at my lips.
There's one way out of here it seems, and so, I part my lips, bend my head forward and engulf the tip of his hard cock with my mouth. I start slowly, tentatively, but I know how this feels, what I'd usually like when my wife's mouth is wrapped around my cock. The best way to make this stranger happy is to do a good job.
I pull back, and run my tongue along the length of his cock, around the head, before slipping the tip back into my mouth. I hear him inhale, as I do. Clearly I'm having the desired effect.
