Consequences

The lights in the cinema come up but nobody moved; that is if you discount hands still masturbating away under the cover of raincoats. Simon assumes that everyone knows there'll be another erotic presentation along in a couple of minutes and that's what they're waiting for. How wrong he is will become apparent later.

But a couple of minutes: that's all the time Simon's been given to respond the mysterious stranger's terse request that, now he comes to think about it, sounds more like an urgent command. Two short minutes. Less now surely: the clock's ticking, his panicking mind's racing and him still feeling sexually aroused isn't exactly helping. He is, overall, nervous; but this nervousness can also be subdivided into its constituent parts. Parts such as fear for his personal safety; concern that by leaving early, he'll miss out on seeing more curvacious beauties being exploited for his further titilation; intense curiosity in what the mysterious stranger wants to do to him once he got him alone, plus the sure and certain knowledge that he'd never felt more alive than he does at this particular moment; uncomfortably alive maybe, but mega-intensely so. Somebody actually wants him - for sex. Wrong sex maybe, but isn't that better than no sex at all, ever?

Clearly, this stranger's the type of man his mother warned him not to take sweets from when he was a boy, and Simon's pretty certain that he isn't being invited into a gent's toilet just to be given a toffee. This older, stronger man wants to get him alone in order to do things to him that can't be done in public. Many times, he's wanted to do that with a girl: take her somewhere secluded and . . . well . . . "take her". For the first time in his life, Simon considers about what it might be like to be the one being "taken". To have no say in the matter; to be overpowered and used for someone else's sexual gratification. Wow! How pervertedly exciting might thatprove to be?

One thing's certain. Doing nothing is not a viable option, since this might provoke an unpleasant situation should the man return. Simon glances at his watch. Time's up. Getting to his feet, he sidles out of the row of seats and turns towards the foyer. He's still made no conscious decision. In fact, he feels strangely unable to think logically at all. Like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an on-rushing car, Simon sees the approaching gent's toilet and simply lets it engulf him.

His dark tormentor and seducer is standing at the urinal, gently stroking his fully erect phallus, clearly unconcerned about what someone coming in might think and little wonder since in this place, everyone's thinking the same thing.

That said, passion doesn't like to take its time. Hence Simon is advanced upon, grabbed and forcibly snogged. Coarse stubble grazes his smooth skin, an agile, alien tongue that tastes of stale tobacco invades his mouth and he feels fingers like talons clawing at his buttocks. Simon doesn't resist. Indeed, he suddenly feels strangely weak as deep inside, he realises that this is precisely what he's come here for: a sexual adventure - and boy is he having one now. He's being ravished. He's being maneuvered into a cubicle and within that claustrophobically confined space, his jeans and boxers are being yanked down. Now he's being spun round and **** face-first against the wall and saliver drenched fingers are smearing their lubricating slickness between the cheeks of his smooth, tight, firm arse. These groping fingers are soon replaced by a thick, hot, hard penis that prodeeds to rim him, most savagely and rapidly. Man and boy are both panting now. Simon feels his attacker's hot breath on the back of his neck, feels powerful coarse hands holding his slim, naked hips steady whilst a rampant cock spreads and enjoys the intimate confines of his arse meat.

This doesn’t last long. Simon hears a gutteral grunting and then feels what can only be ejacuating semen flooding his posterial crevice. A few more not so fierce thrusts and it's all over. Then there's this shuffling, rustling sound behind him, but Simon's too embarrassed to turn round to see what's happening. Therefore, it is at first to his complete confusion that he feels the cock slide back between his buttocks - but no, it's not THE cock, it's a different one and the sound of shuffling feet suggests that there are others waiting nearby to enjoy his youthful body. Since there's no possibility of buggery taking place here as screams of pain in the foyer would be a tad too much, even for this sordid establishment, Simon knows that he can take this. Whilst not getting any sexual pleasure out of this himself, he finds he's not entirely averse to giving it to his fellow man. In fact it kind of thrills him to know that men can fancy him like this; that whenever he feels that the world couldn't give a toss about him, there'll be a fellow lonely soul hanging around a public park or toilet sonewhere only too keen toss him off. One after the other, members of the audience continue to come - in every sense if the word! Simon zones out mentally from what's happening to him. He has to; emotionally it's all too much whilst physically, he doesn’t find it all that interesting. Once you've felt one cock between the cheeks of your arse, you've felt them all! Therefore, he doesn’t even bother to keep count of the different cocks visiting his butt.

But then Simon hears someone say "thank you" and from that point, he's left alone. Accumulated sperm's now slowly sliding down his legs so he sets about cleaning himself up with toilet tissue. Yet the afternoon still had one more surprise in store for Simon. On turning to deposit the used tissues in the pan, he finds the lid down and a not unsubstantial pile of money on it. Simon immediately grabs the cash, leaves the cinema and, having given the matter some consideration, goes and buys a raincoat with it.