Its been awhile since I last sat on a beat up industrial plastic toilet seat in a tiny cubicle at a public rest area, trying to keep my feet straight forward in the "shit" position, while the rest of my body is contorted awkwardly, allowing me to focus on the single beam of light coming in through a small hole drilled into the stall wall. Unnoticed by the naive, ignored by the apathetic, this tiny opening allows those in the know a view of urinals lined up uniformly, and more importantly, a close up view of the various cock meat yanked out by those coming in to piss.
The rusty door to this reststop john is blocked open. Daylight, direct and indirect, all the better to see with. The best stops have sky lights. I hear footsteps along the gravel path, heavy, rapid. The sounds of a trucker needing to take a quick whizz before getting back on the highway. The lighter more lethargic steps, those of tourists with time on their side.
The sound changes as the boots enter the room, now hitting dirty tile. He's in a hurry. I instinctively get into position, that beam of light a beacon, and I carefully put my eye to the hole. I only see large hands quickly fumbling with a leather belt, a top button and zipper. The other hand reaches in like a scoop in a well rehearsed manner, unconsciously hauling out his most precious cargo. That most recognizable flesh comes into site. Regardless of size, color, cut or uncut, nothing mimics the soft skinned, blue veined shaft flesh and the unique beautiful "helmet" shape of a man's cock head!
Immediately that familiar, wonderful sound as a high pressure flow of piss, bubbling, foaming and churning hits the pisser. A shiver, and the low vocal sound of relief, similar to the groan of orgasm. A sigh of relief. A quick shake, a squeeze, a tug from the shaft to the head, draining those last drops of piss, a pull of the zipper, and he's gone. But forever in my mind.
I see a heavy yellow twisted stream coming from the tip of a large pink cockhead. He unconsciously (or intentionally) places his hand in his pocket, allowing a glorious full view. Not a magazine, not a movie, the real thing just inches away. My face separated from his crotch by only a thin wall. Glossy pubes; heavily veined shaft; rotund cock head; yellow piss; and occasionally heavy, pendulous balls.
The waistband of his jockeys sometimes held down by a heavy nut sack, divided by two large orbs. Resting atop that big sack rests a beautiful soft cock. The head is big and pink. The pink ends where it meets the darker circumcision scar and the shaft becomes a soft brown, tapering to the beautiful bush. About 2 1/2 - 3 inches, soft. Fat and heavy. From my angle I can even see the piss slit forced open by the heavy stream, pencil thick. Me, absorbed in the exctasy of his piss. What a view! A site all mine, if just for the moment; One that would be visible to me under no other circumstance. My cock hurts, I'm so hard. My gut aches - I long for what can not be mine. A fleeting moment of satisfaction and longing. Who's next?!
With the public becoming more savvy to "our" ways, such opportunities are becoming more and more rare. Even contemporary architecture is designed to prevent this simple, harmless pleasure. What a shame. Memories are what I have left.