Thursday, July 6, 2023

Tai – Part Two of Two Parts, Post #243

Image Courtesy of Clipart Library


Last week, we met Mark and his buddy Tai, both straight, teenaged Soccer athletes. Only thing is, Mark spends the summer after high school graduation getting horny while Tai’s back east visiting his mother’s family. Now it’s time for college.

Read on.


* * * *


Nobody else from my town was going to State, so I’d be among strangers.  I squared my shoulders and figured most of the other freshmen would be in the same boat. So when I learned Tai Briggs had landed a soccer scholarship to the college, as well, I perked up a bit. Maybe we could room together.

Didn’t happen that way but he did live in the same dorm. Good seeing him, and from his reaction he felt the same way. He looked great. He’d put on ten pounds and another couple of inches.

We gravitated toward one another and soon became joined at the hip, so to speak. But as we grew our respective circles of friends, we sort of drifted apart. Except on the soccer field. Tai and I carried our weight there, and then some. This was gonna work out just fine.

Before long, Tai hooked up with a gal named Ginny, and I started a rocky relationship with a chick named, curiously enough, Suzy Sue Manford. Suzy Sue, or SS, as I called her, liked me just fine, but she courted the reputation of a rebel. That shoulda been great, right? Rebels defied convention. Convention said teens—even teens on the edge of being twenties—ought not go to bed together. So if she defied convention… well, you see where I’m going with this.

Didn’t work out that way. Although she liked to make out, I hadn’t gotten to third base before she took me home—she was a local—to meet her folks. Her dad, an avid car restorer, and I bonded as soon as he he found I was a mechanic. That didn’t sit well with SS. We continued to go together, but like I said, it was rocky.

Halfway into the semester, I got itchy with that itch that’s hard to scratch without the cooperation of someone else. First thing I know, thoughts of Billy Belwine and what he’d done to me—for me—in the park’s men’s room last summer intruded on my consciousness. Billy’s lips would feel pretty good right now, but Billy was off to school in another state, giving relief to his new classmates, I presumed.

Strangely, the thought of Billy made things worse. Just about every public men’s room I’ve ever been in had little notes scribbled on the stall walls, and I started paying attention to them. This school had it’s own Billy, but I didn’t know how to identify him. His notes were provocative but didn’t provide contact information.

I’d seen what somebody called “glory holes” in lots of public rest room, but dear old State’s stalls were made out of steel. Not only that, but the janitorial staff had perfected a method for effectively eliminating notes that were left, even those scratched into the metal. They buffed those out.

But one day, as my need rose almost to the desperation level, I saw a fresh note from someone who labeled himself as DZ saying he’d located an out of the way spot at Burnt Wood. What the hell was Burnt Wood? Too embarrassed to ask anyone, I went on the hunt in the library. Local maps showed a park by that name clear across town.

Probably a men’s room at the park. Bingo. But with no car, it would be a chore to get there. I’d put all my savings into my college fund to make it easier for the folks. I had a jalopy at home, but it wasn’t up to the cross-state travel to my present location.

The inane thought struck me that Tai had a car, but I couldn’t quite see me asking for a ride to a park to get my rocks off in some public bathroom. Although, I got a bit of a tingle in my groin by just thinking about it.

Well, think about it I did. About getting to Burnt Wood, that is. I located the city bus route that would take me close, and decided I’d give it a try Saturday. No classes and no soccer game, so that would be an ideal time. I came close to taking care of my own need Friday night, even with my roommate sleeping just across the room, but managed to keep my hands off myself.

Saturday morning was warm and sunny and inviting. Mid-morning, I boarded a city bus convinced that everyone on board, including the driver, knew where I was heading and what my mission was. Irrational, I know.

I transferred where I was supposed to, got off the second bus, and found I still had a quarter of a mile to hike. Well, what’s a quarter of a mile to a soccer player? When I arrived at the park, the first thing I saw was a bus stop. If I’d taken the proper route, a damned bus would have dropped me right at the park. Oh well….

The park was big… with lots of trees. A nice park, actually. Full of wholesome families having autumn picnics… and at least one sex-starved student looking for a tryst. Once again, as I trod the graveled walks in search of a secluded men’s room, I felt everyone’s eyes on me. Knowing eyes. Sneering eyes. Condemning eyes. Eyes that knew a guy looking for a blowjob when they saw him.

Finally, I found that secluded men’s room off in the trees where it was easy to miss. My back puckered as I approached the brown-painted shack. The door let out an ungodly shriek when I pulled it open. My heart about stopped, but I soldiered on.

One urinal. One stall. Side by side. With a big glory hole between them. This was the place, all right. Hookup messages were everywhere, but the place was deserted. I took a seat in the stall to read sometimes erotic and sometimes disgusting notes from one guy or another to the gay universe. That hauled me up short. Gay universe? Did that include me?

Naw. These were messages from gay guys to the male universe, and that’s part of what I was. Male universe. A needy member of the male universe. Must be because my member reacted something fierce. My male member.

I froze as the outside door squeaked open. Footsteps, and then someone was at the urinal. I peeked. Nice, from what I could see, which was confined to the groin area. What did I do now? Stick my thing through the glory hole and hope for the best? What if the guy was offended and whacked me where it hurt. Can you break a dick? Dunno, but I wasn’t about to take a chance.

Then the dude unzipped his trousers and flopped out his dong. A nice dong. He lifted his shirt a bit. Flat belly, black bush. Probably had a six-pack if he exposed more of himself.

Geez, the guy wasn’t taking a leak. He was playing with himself. What should I do now?

He didn’t leave it up to me. He turned and shoved himself through the glory hole. I gulped. I knew what he expected, but that wasn’t what I was here for. Even so, I took him in hand and massaged him. He thrust himself against the wall, and I knew he was urging me to take him in my mouth. No way. That wasn’t me. I wasn’t here to take care of some dude, I was here to be taken care of.

He withdrew, and started to bend over to look through the hole. I leaned back and gave him a good view of my own need. He hesitated a moment and then disappeared. Was he leaving?

No! He was at the door to the stall. He tugged on it. I’d locked it, of course, so I was safe. He rapped softly. For some reason, I’ll never really know why, I reached up and freed the lock.

A long moment passed before he pulled the door open and gave me the shock of my life. I might have been taken by surprise, but he wasn’t.

“Mark. I thought I recognized your senior class ring.”

Tai Briggs, looking sexier than anyone I’d ever seen, grinned, a crooked, lop-sided, lascivious smile and walked straight into me. I gulped, and took him the way he wanted.


It’s always nice when something works out better than you ever expected, isn’t it. I wish Mark and Tai four long years of happy college life together. After that? Who knows.

 My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog:



Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.



 New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.

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