My first time, continued

[continued from 14 July] In a diary entry I wrote at the time -- and that may still be intact on a 5.25'' floppy disk rotting away somewhere -- I resolved that ''I need to suck another man's penis and swallow his semen at least once before I die.'' Well, the time eventually came.

Soon after starting my first year at the University of Virginia, I'd noticed the graffiti on the stalls of the 4th-floor men's room of Old Cabell Hall. (If you like dick and have ever lived in Charlottesville, you undoubtedly know that men's room at least by reputation, if not by personal experience -- it's legendary.) Anyway, I spotted the "WM Jock ISO same 4 fun" scribblings early on, but didn't get up the nerve to seek out cock until my second year.

Instead, I fed my homo desires by poring over the stamp-sized images of "all-male videos" advertised in the back pages of Hustler, and with furtive reads of The Joy of Gay Sex in the psychology/sexuality shelves of the library stacks. (On more than one occasion, I squeezed-n-squirmed my way to an underwear-soaking orgasm right there at one of the carrells -- and then hurriedly reshelving the book and making my way to the nighttime darkness outside before the semen soaked through my khakis.) And, of course, I had my homemade j/o videos to entertain me whenever I made a trip home -- I'd stashed them safely behind some loose paneling in my bedroom closet.

But one day in October 1990, I decided to go for it. I needed to touch and taste another guy's hard penis, somehow. So that morning I stuck a black Sharpie marker in my pocket, and when the opportunity came between classes, I made my way to the men's room, found a stall, and sat down. I wrote something like:

SWM student, 19, 5'8", 175#, seeks masculine guy for fun

Well, the next day I got a response:

WM 26 grad student. you sound hot. be here 11PM Friday

I spent the next couple of days consumed with horniness. I had a perpetual erection, was totally distracted in class, and at night I lay in bed literally trembling with excitement. At last -- at long last -- I would have the chance to PLAY WITH A DICK THAT WASN'T MY OWN!

So Friday night came. I went to the men's room at the appointed hour and saw a few guys standing at the sinks, combing their hair. Combing and combing and combing. Then combing some more. "Aha," I thought, astutely. "I'll bet they're here for the same reason I am." Which one was the guy who'd answered my bathroom-stall personal ad? I hoped it wasn't the ugly bald dude standing by the window. Finally I went into the stall where I'd written the message and shut the door. Unzipped to let my throbbing dick out -- I'd had an erection for blocks while walking to Cabell Hall from my apartment, and I could feel my pants brushing against my excited cock with every step. Moments later, I could see shoes underneath the stall partitions on either side of me.

I wasn't sure what to do. Which one was the grad student? It hadn't occurred to me to make a mental note of their shoes when I'd seen the guys standing at the sinks. Maybe the grad student wasn't even among them. What should I do? Then...

[tap. . . tap . . . tap]

Very slowly, lightly, and deliberately came the tap of the shoe visible underneath the stall partition to my right. I felt my dick surge and caught my breath as I carefully tapped back. Seconds later, a pen wrapped with toilet paper appeared under the partition. I unscrolled the paper: Glad you could make it

I thought for a second and then wrote What do you want to do? before rolling the paper around the pen and passing it back. I reached down to give my dong a squeeze, not wanting to touch it too much because I feared I might start spurting the bleachy white cum any second. The pen re-appeared: Stand up so I can see it.

The stall partitions were granite slabs -- not something you could easily drill a glory hole through. But at some point in the past, the old spindle-style toilet paper holder had been removed and replaced with one of those big plastic industrial dispensers. The bolt holes were still there, providing perfect peepholes that were just about at waist level.

I stood, pulling up my shirt so that I could display my pubes, balls, and full erection to him as he peered through the peephole. I hefted my heavy nutsac with my left hand and flexed my rigid cock to make it bounce. I heard a contented sigh from my neighbor in the next stall and then... YES, he must've spit on his palm because I could hear the soft, familiar ricky-shick-shick of a male masturbator. I was almost panting with excitement at the realization that MY PENIS WAS GETTING ANOTHER MALE SEXUALLY AROUSED...

[to be continued...]