Steve – the bareback pipe-fitter by Bulge Voyeur
This was my first experience at “cottaging” in a public toilet, when I happened across Steve, a gorgeous 18 year-old pipe-fitter, just ravenous for sex and affection!
I was on holiday from work and had been out for the morning in nearby Coventry, taking candid photos of young men in the sun mostly, and I got back to Birmingham about 2 o’clock.
Just under the pedestrian ramp leading out of the railway station were the public toilets. I had heard about “cottaging” and knew that this lavatory, being busy and anonymous, was such a place. Whether or not my subconscious was drawing me to the place today I don’t know but when I actually went down there, it was to pay a genuine call, so I duly paid and went into a cubicle.
The partitions between the cubicles didn’t quite reach the ground, so there was a gap underneath of about 6 inches. After a while, my curiosity got the better of me. Although I had never done it before, I knelt down on the floor and looked underneath. To my naïve surprise, a few cubicles away, a face was looking back in my direction. My reaction was instantaneous; I sat up quickly. However, my reaction had been so swift that I hadn’t had time to see who it was or what he looked like. For some reason though, I couldn’t pluck up enough courage to look again. I just sat there.
A short while later, I saw a young pair of shoes, at the end of jean-clad legs, enter the cubicle next door. The shoes were new and smart, with a brass toe-strip, fashionable at the time. Clearly it was someone fairly young; probably no older than me, at any rate. He seemed to sit down but then do nothing else. I was curious and couldn’t resist the temptation, so I wrote on a piece of toilet paper, “How old?” and slipped it under the partition. The note was quickly taken up and was shortly followed by the sound of a match being struck. At first, I thought he was burning the note in disgust but then I realized that he was using the match to write with.
The note came back; “18” it read. I drew a rather deep breath. Now what?
I returned the note; “I’m 26 – can I wank you off?” I remember thinking at the time that punctuation was probably superfluous under the circumstances and that a fairly basic vocabulary was more apt.
Another match was struck on the other side and the note came back, “Lend me your pen”. I realised that he must have seen my stainless-steel biro when I had slipped the message under the partition and I wasn’t yet ready to risk losing one of my 21st Birthday presents. As I had nothing else to write with, I returned the note saying, “No – you’ll nick it” and indicated that he should continue using a match.
There was now a bit of a delay and I figured I must have blown my chances. At best, he didn’t have any more matches. “And all for the sake of losing a stainless-steel biro!” I thought to myself as I sat there.
However, to my surprise, eventually another note came back giving his approval to my original request, provided that I agreed to “suck him off”. Needless to say, I immediately indicated agreement and told him, “Unlock when ready”. I flushed the toilet and opened the door. As I emerged from the cubicle, I then thought, “What do I do if he doesn’t unlock the door and just leaves me standing there like an idiot trying to get in?” The people outside may or may not have known what was going on but I knew I had to risk it. As I turned, I saw his lock click to ‘vacant’ and I pretended to put in a coin and entered the cubicle.
On reflection, my hasty action deserved to lead me into serious trouble but my limited experience knew no better. I don’t know who I really expected to find inside but for a start he hadn’t lied about his age. He was a fraction taller than me, lightly built with short dark hair and wearing blue denim jeans and a black leather bomber-jacket over a plain white ‘T’ shirt. But what struck me so overwhelmingly was his incredibly beautiful face. He had blue-grey eyes and soft boyish features, so clean-shaven that he looked almost as if he had never shaved and never needed to. I could hardly believe my eyes.
He also must have been reasonably pleased with me because, instead of just offering me his cock to suck, we both feverishly began undressing each other. We didn’t get far though, before we were both embracing, hugging tightly. This first embrace said so much without words and it seemed to last an age; he pressed his whole body to me, burying his face against my neck, hugging me and kissing my neck. He smelt nice too; he was clearly wearing after-shave or cologne of some kind. Whatever it was, it was doing its job perfectly and I was almost overwhelmed. At best, on entering the cubicle, I had expected – I had hoped – for an ‘ordinary’ young man (like me) who wanted quick, impersonal sex but nothing had prepared me for this situation. He wanted – he deserved – far more than just a quick wank, that much was certain. Look into those glistening blue-grey eyes, set beneath luxuriant dark eyebrows, I just cradled his face in my hands and kissed him softly on the lips.
At this point, I must have realised the danger we were both in; two men in a public toilet, half undressed and one of us under 21. I felt I had to get him out of there to somewhere safer – and a little more romantic. I whispered into his ear,
“You’re so gorgeous; what on earth are you doing here?”
He merely hugged me all the more tightly and he kissed me for the first time. Oh heavens! His lips tasted simply delicious! Memories came flooding back of an 18 year-old boy-friend I had a few years back, as I began to melt against him. Again, I whispered to him,
“I can’t bear the thought of you being caught here. Can I take you back to my place? It’s not too far and it’ll be safer there.”
Much to my surprise, he readily agreed, just as we noticed someone spying on us from under the partition with the next cubicle. It was that face again – only this time, he was right next door and had already noticed two pairs of feet where there should be only one.
My newly discovered treasure left the cubicle first, flushing the toilet for effect, and I followed after a moment or two. When I emerged at the top of the steps, I thought that I had lost him and that he had run off, but then I caught a glimpse of him disappearing into a telephone kiosk. I still wasn’t sure whether he was trying to avoid me but I briskly walked up to the kiosk and when he saw me, he came out. As we walked away together, he seemed more on edge than I had expected and he was nervously looking around at the people about us.
As we walked on, I managed to ascertain that his name was Steve and that he was, of all things, a pipe-fitter, but then without warning, he hustled me in front of a queue and onto a bus. Rather taken by surprise, I fumbled for the fare he had paid and followed him upstairs to where he was sitting, looking intently out of the window. He then told me that we had been followed from the toilet and he pointed to a middle-aged, rather scruffy looking man in the crowd who I remember seeing earlier, loitering in the public toilet. It was “The Face” from under the partition.
We stayed on the bus as it went around the City Centre; meanwhile, he sat there, pressing his leg firmly against mine. Even through my jeans, I could feel the warmth of his leg and this tenuous connection of our bodies passed an electric sexuality between us that was getting me highly aroused! The blood was pumping through my cock, tightly crushed inside my briefs, and there was an uncomfortable dampness developing in my groin as pre-cum oozed into my underwear as we sat there, our jean-clad thighs pressed warmly together.
By the time we reached the Town Hall, he seemed to be less nervous. We had lost our follower, so we changed buses and headed to my place. On the way, I tried to make ‘small talk’ and he responded chattily. He had a gorgeous Liverpool accent but said he lived locally. I learned that he had left his parents in Liverpool to find work and that he shared a flat not far from where I now lived, so he didn’t feel that he was heading into totally strange parts. The short walk from the bus seemed to take ages; my heart was beating fast and it was thumping into my throat. I was nervous that we might meet someone I knew; what would I say? But as it happened, we didn’t pass anyone.
He seemed impressed when I showed him into my flat and immediately asked how much it cost. Typical of a Liverpool ‘Lad’, I thought; winningly engaging but always straight to the point. I took his leather bomber-jacket, gave him a Coke and sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to me, indicating for him to sit beside me, which he did. As I put my arm around him, he responded straight away by doing the same and by snuggling up to me affectionately. I stroked his face and again told him how beautiful he was.
“Thank you,” he said with a coy grin. He seemed flattered.
As I moved to kiss him, he turned toward me and our lips met for the second time in a kiss of such tenderness, quite unlike anything you could imagine from an 18 year-old. His lips were full and his mouth tasted slightly of mint, as our passions roused and our tongues entwined. I began to realise that he may have been 18 but he was no novice. He certainly knew how to kiss!
Eagerly, he following me into the bedroom, where I drew the curtains and closed the door. In the semi-darkness, we embraced again but this time, unlike in the toilet cubicle, we were safe and secure from prying eyes. Our whole bodies now pressing together, we kissed and hugged. He began to unbutton my shirt as I removed his t-shirt, revealing soft tanned arms and a strong chest delicately peppered with tiny hairs. Again we hugged, but this time our skins touched for the first time and passed bodily warmth between us. Feverishly, I unzipped his flies and unbuckled his belt but by now, we were both so desperate to get into bed that we both just dropped our jeans and almost leapt into bed, still wearing our underpants.
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