A loooong time ago, on a road trip with my parents, I went into a stall in a rest-stop men’s room. There was literally a cinder block missing in the wall separating my stall from one in the women’s room. I got to see a woman’s pussy for the first time as she got up and wiped herself after peeing, oblivious to my gaze. This may have twisted me for life! Anyway, here’s my fantasy for today.
You (F32) and I (M53) would meet online, and after some searching we’d find reports of a truck stop or rest area where one women’s stall could be visible from an adjacent men’s stall.
Some very busy travel day during the spring, we’d both go to this place at the same time—but,not having exchanged pictures, we wouldn’t recognize each other. We would both arrive having to pee pretty badly. You would enter the building first, heading straight to the women’s room to wait for that one stall.
To preserve your anonymity, you’d walk in wearing a common style of shorts with no panties, the crotch seam rubbing your pussy lips as you walked. You’d also be wearing plastic/foam thong-style sandals and some sort of light jacket or hoodie or something (I wouldn’t know what) over a t-shirt. Once you got into the stall, you’d take off your jacket and lose the shorts, stowing them in the sleeve of the jacket/sweater/whatever, which you’d hang up in the stall out of my sight. All I’d be able to see (of your clothing;) would be your shirt, which you’d cover with the hoodie/jacket etc. before you emerged from the busy restroom.
Bare-assed and a tad nervous, you’d text to say you were ready. I’d start sharing my location with you. Having been in the food court as we agreed, and not 100% certain that you were actually in the building, I’d head for the rendezvous point while you watched me approach on your phone. As our markers converged, you would hear the signal. I’d double-close the stall, latch it, open, latch it again, and clear my throat.
Finally it would be real.
I’d be close enough to count every hair on your bush as you bent over the toilet and did a cute little dance for me, wiggling your butt and spreading your ass cheeks and pussy lips to tease me. I’d be surprised and really, honored to see that you’d put on special nails and a worn a little butt plug for me, the latter of which you’d remove and re-insert several times into your wet asshole while I watched.
I, too, would have my pants down. My bladder would be almost overflowing, but my cock would be stiffening at the same time. Once I calmed down and could piss, I’d clear my throat loudly again.
You’d take the ass plug out one more time and place it out of sight on the toilet. Spreading yourself as wide as you could for me, you would hover your ass over the toilet seat. After a few seconds you’d exhale as the pee began to stream out of your body through your little peehole.
Then my stream would start, warming, soaking, and teasing your private parts. Your asshole, perineum, labia, pussy hole, peehole—all licked and tickled by my body-temperature piss as you experienced the delicious sensation of emptying your bladder while being watched.
We’d finish around the same time and you’d stay in your position as I began to jack my cock up and down, taking in the sight of your wet crotch, pee dribbling off your cunt hairs, pussy obviously wet from the inside as well as out. Fuck. My balls would tighten and I’d try to be quiet—but in the moment I wouldn’t care. My first splooge would be aimed just above your butthole, and would slide down over your anus and pussy as more spurts hit the same spot. You wanted to feel like a loose slut in a public restroom, and it would finally be happening. You’d let a strange man gaze at your pussy while you peed, then let him pee all over your cunt and asshole—and now, let him ejaculate his warm semen between your legs.
You might be double-clicking your mouse as I finished, still bent over and on display, but I would abide by our agreement, cleaning up and returning to the crowded food court.
At some point you’d text me that you’d left the restroom and I’d stop sending my location.
Who knows what would happen next? Most likely, we’d each eat lunch at the food court, looking around for lone people who matched each other’s description. Would we try to make eye contact with likely suspects? Or, in a burst of embarrassment, would you out a little—would you stride out to your car, delete your profile, and drive away?
PS let me know if “no touch” is an incorrect tag for this story!