The Urinal

The protagonist in this story, though an avid participant, intellectually, is physically a victim of a limited consent sex act, therefore, If you disapprove of limited consent stories DO NOT READ further.

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I was standing at the urinal in a gas station one day, my sweats pulled part way down, when it occurred to me I should probably be in a stall if I were going to let my cute butt hang out. That gave me an idea for a story. . .

*****

Late for a promised luncheon with my mother, I had slipped on my sweats without showering after an excruciating 40-minute work out at the cross-town gym. My muscles tingled, especially my hard thighs, firm glutes, and taut biceps. Zipping down I-94 toward "The Proud Peacock" the trendy 'English pub' my mom so loved, I was suddenly reminded I had also forgotten to piss before leaving the gym. I believe in hydration, so I was carrying about two quarts of distilled water in my distended bladder. As the miles ticked by, my need became ever more urgent. The strain of holding back my piss was making my eyes water by the time I saw the turnout for the wayside. Sighing with relief, I zoomed into the parking spot closest to the rest room entrance, leaped over the door of my Bristol Blenheim convertible and dashed inside.

Common sense told me that, wearing only drawstring sweats, without underwear, I should have gone into the stall and closed the door, but the urgent call of my swollen bladder drove me to the closest urinal. I yanked down my pants, freeing 'the monster', having barely enough time, pulled back my foreskin to keep from spraying, and hiked up the front of my shirt with the other hand. Sighing audibly with relief, I let go a strong stream that could be heard echoing off one of those obnoxious blue thingies in the bottom of the urinal. The relief was profound; my legs sagged a bit.

Suddenly, my short, slight form was pushed sharply forward by the presence of a large hard body against mine. "Don't turn around," a deep voice commanded. My urine was still streaming, but now was splashing back against my thighs and balls. The large hard body jostled against me, forcing me to grasp the wall behind the urinal with the flats of both hands.

"Don't. . ," I began.

"Stay quiet!" the intruder said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Some bumping and fumbling followed. A large calloused hand reached from behind me to grasp my still spraying cock. "Nice," the deep voice said.

More fumbling. I felt the heft of a substantial cock against the small of my back, poking me.

My heart pumped short and fast in my breast; I could not catch a breath; I feared I would faint. My knees were weak. I tried to speak, tried to tell him, but the lump in my throat was as large as the lump pushing against my ass. My cock was driven forward against the cold porcelain as the heavy body behind me asserted itself. My feet began to slip, but my knees were braced from behind by strong thighs. I grasped the cold, sweaty pipe of the urinal, clinging for life, as my assailant's huge cock impaled me. Searing pain lashed through my guts. Large calloused hands gripped my rib cage, lifting me, setting one knee inside the urinal, suspending the other with his knee, then pushing my body down, piercing me farther with his rigid cock, plunging deeper. I turned my head, trying to gasp out words, my cheek pressed hard against the cold marble-like surface of the urinal. His teeth nipped at the tightly corded muscle under my ear.

"UNGH, UNGH," was the only sound my battered lungs could emit, as my captor trust higher, deeper into me. The pain now soared to pelvis, legs, belly, spreading through me in waves, battering down my defenses, crashing on the distant shores of my consciousness.

At last I found my voice. "YES!" I screamed, "yes," my cries echoing harshly around the tiled surface of the mens room. "Take me, fuck me." I yelled as the large, hard, unknown force behind me moved to fulfill my utmost fantasy, driving, pummeling, punishing me inside and out.

The pain became an active force, filling me, overflowing, pouring from my cock and my fingers and toes, and the ends of my hair, leaving behind an emptiness, a void to be filled only by the enormous phallus possessing me.

My hands kept slipping on the sweaty pipe as I sought desperately to hoist myself, then push down again onto him, striving, but failing, to participate. I could only hang on, take what was dealt me. The pain went away. I felt my rectum opening, my sphincters relaxing. His cock in me felt so large I knew my bowels were full of him, wanted more.

I clenched my ass on his huge presence, was rewarded by the return of searing pain. Immediately I released. He drove higher, harder. His cock so filled me that it rubbed my prostate on each cruel thrust. My cock, harder than it had ever been, began leaking, streaming. It was an orgasm of sorts, but unlike any previous, as if my body, my extremities, had become liquid pouring from my cock. Unlike the lightning strike, fireworks orgasms of the past, this one dragged on and on. Consciousness left me, flowed from me with the fluid from my cock. I collapsed onto him like the skin of a deflated balloon, but still he went on and on. My cock stayed hard, its naked head flopping up and down on the cold slimy porcelain as he forced his fearsome rod up, up, up into me.

The stranger shifted his weight, adjusted his feet, grabbed my hips. The bathroom exhaust fan droned on, playing counterpoint to the ceaseless droning in my head. My assailant began a series of long slow fucks, slipping out of my wide open ass and thrusting quickly back in. Before each thrust I could feel the cold air of the rest room inside my hole, only to be replaced by his flaming hot cock. I clung desperately to the pipe. From far off I heard a strange keening, as of a small animal in profound pain or pleasure. The realization dawned slowly that the sound came from deep within me, expressing my pain and pleasure.

Behind me, the assault continued until finally, he grasped me tight against him, emitted a feral growl, and emptied his seed into my aching hole, splashing hotly inside me.

A moment more he held me, before suddenly withdrawing and vanishing out the door.

I had never felt so abandoned, so alone.

Slowly, painfully, I pulled up my soiled sweats, flushed, returned to my car, driving off to keep my luncheon date with mom, even later now. On the drive over, I invented one of those short convenient lies we often tell our parents to avoid hurting them, usually involving our own ineptitude, so easy for them to accept.