thing, it doesn’t MEAN anything, but fuck it! This is edgy and exciting. I had stopped trying to divert my mind, and my dick was awakening slowly, swelling into its full six inches but still decently hanging downwards.

With a fresh surge of excitement, I noticed his penis, now visibly larger. Still pointing down, but engorged, heavy looking, the foreskin drawing back, the dark purple meat emerging beneath. As if to hide it, he turned away from me, soaping himself, giving me the change to stare uninterrupted at his rear, boyish and tight, the slender legs, the back contoured and defined, the way the soap trickled downwards into his crack … (how smooth and silky it would feel against my body, how my cock would slide naturally into him … no, stop these wicked thoughts, you’re getting into trouble). He soaped his buttocks and crotch in a robust, innocent way that had my hormones flooding.

Thump, thump, I was now throbbing down below, the momentum building, the tension in my cock telling my that it was rising, lifting … oh hell.

And then he’d turned around, bending slightly, embarrassed, unable to hide it. A surging, beautiful hard-on, pointing ruler-straight and upwards, swaying lazily, lifting his balls so they hung as a perfect pair. He was soaping his upper body, as if to draw away my attention, but his hard-on gave it away: this guy’s mind was now on sex. My cock was rising uncontrollably, lifting on each heartbeat. Getting to that state of rock-hardness that comes moments before a fuck, when I’m spreading lube over a guy’s hole. Preparing, instinctively, for penetrating that peachy tanned bum, spurting its seed deep in that impossibly sexy body.

OK, I thought: danger. The guy was at an age when anything sets off a boner. Maybe he was straight, he was going to freak out and attack me. Time to stop the experiment, it’s gone far enough now. I’ll just casually, innocently, go for my towel, dry off, and do my best to fit my throbbing hard-on into my jeans. Or maybe jerk off in the toilet cubicle to let off the pressure. No way can I cool down here.

And I would have done that, if both showers hadn’t both clicked off simultaneously, and if I hadn’t looked up at him and noticed him smiling awkwardly and crookedly at me, one hand pressing against his manhood, the other fiddling with his neck-charm. It was too much. I could no longer pretend innocence. The distant crash of the door, and someone was on their way in, and I knew that we had ten seconds, at most, to go for cover.

In five seconds I had grabbed his arm and guided him into a private shower cubicle, pulling the curtain shut. The sudden silence after the shower, and our dripping bodies were together against the wall, a hasty sloppy kiss of introduction, then straight down, my mouth stopping on the way to kiss his chest, then I was squatting, my tongue playing first on the round curves of his balls, then running up the impossible hardness of his shaft, then … bliss … the hot hard head nudging against my tongue, the foreskin sliding easily over the slippery smooth glands.

The rushing thrill of the simple quickie, no time for finesse, pure excitement, just a few minutes privacy in our damp love-nest. While my mouth filled pleasantly with cock, the end plunging till it