**”The Bathroom Stall”**

The bar was loud, packed with my college buddies celebrating the end of finals. I was three beers deep, laughing at some dumb joke when I caught his stare from across the room—a big bear of a man, maybe 60, thick gray beard, broad shoulders straining against his shirt. He didn’t look away when our eyes met. Instead, he smirked, raised his glass slightly, and I felt my face flush.

I excused myself to the bathroom, pretending I just needed to piss. The second I pushed through the door, I heard it lock behind me. He was there, crowding me against the sink, his calloused hand sliding up my shirt.

“Knew you’d follow,” he growled, lips brushing my ear. His other hand palmed my cock through my jeans, already hard just from that look he gave me. “Fuck, kid. You’re wound tight.”

I let out a shaky breath as he unbuttoned my pants, shoving them down just enough to free my dick. His fingers wrapped around me, rough and sure, stroking slow at first, then faster, twisting just under the head. My hips jerked into his grip, my back arching off the sink.

“Quiet,” he warned, even as his own breath hitched. “We don’t wanna get caught.”

He turned me around, pressing my chest against the cold tile of the stall. His belt buckle clinked as he undid it, and I heard him spit into his hand before rubbing it over his cock. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel the thick head nudging against my ass.

“Relax,” he muttered, one hand gripping my hip, the other guiding himself in.

The burn was sharp, but fuck, the stretch was unreal. He was thick, way thicker than I expected, and I bit my lip hard to keep from groaning as he pushed deeper. His hips met my ass with a quiet slap, his groan hot against the back of my neck.

“Christ, kid. You’re tight as hell.”

He didn’t wait, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, forcing a gasp out of me. His pace was brutal—short, hard thrusts that had my knees shaking, my cock dripping against the stall door. I could hear the wet sound of him driving into me, feel his stomach slapping against my ass with every snap of his hips.

One of his hands wrapped around my throat, not choking, just holding, while the other slid under me, jerking my cock in time with his thrusts.

“Gonna make you come just like this,” he growled, his voice wrecked. “Take my cock like a good boy.”

I was close, so fucking close, my balls tightening as he fucked me harder, deeper. His grip on my throat tightened just a fraction, and that was it. I came with a broken moan, spilling over his fingers, my ass clenching around him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his thrusts turning uneven. He buried himself deep, his cock pulsing inside me as he came.

For a second, all I could hear was our heavy breathing. Then he pulled out, and I felt his cum dripping down my thighs as he zipped himself up.

He slapped my ass, still red from his thrusts, and smirked.

“Good boy.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me trembling, my jeans still undone, his cum leaking down my legs. I didn’t even know his name.

Fuck, I hoped I’d see him again.