realized I had to piss like mad and made a beeline for the men’s room.
I had my zipper open and my dick out, peeing into a tall white urinal, when Walter followed me into the men’s room and took the urinal next to mine.
Don’t look at his dick, I said to myself. Don’t look at his dick.
“Beer goes right through me,” he said as he unzipped and let loose a stream.
I didn’t know what to say. I’ve never been good at urinal conversation. Some guys can keep up a flow of chatter, but not me. I’m too self-conscious, scared that if I stop paying attention to what I’m doing, I’ll end up pissing on myself.
Walter didn’t seem to notice. “How do you like working for me?” he asked. “Be honest, Manny. I want to hear it.”
My mouth was dry. “It’s great,” I croaked, thankful that my stream had turned to a trickle. “I’m learning a lot.”
“I can see that. You’re more than just charming and damned good-looking. You’re smart too, and that’s what really matters.”
He looked over at me as I was shaking the last drops from my dick. I felt it stiffening and hurried to stuff it back into my pants. “Thank you.”
“But you’ve got to think about the future,” he said. “Don’t be satisfied to be a superintendent, or even a manager. Set your sights high. That’s what I did.”
I was careful to keep my eyes on his face, which was turned toward the wall again. “How did you do it?” I asked. “How did you get to be so successful so fast?”
He finished pissing and zipped up. “Hard work and single-minded focus,” he said. “I never let myself get distracted. Eyes on the prize, you know.”
At that moment, though, his eyes were on me with a kind of longing in them. “Sometimes I think back to when I was your age, starting out. What if I’d paid more attention to the rest of my life?”
“It’s not like you’re ancient, Walter,” I said, walking over to the single sink to wash my hands.
He joined me at the sink, sticking his hands into the flow right next to mine. My heart skipped a beat, and I pulled them away as if they’d caught fire.
“Don’t lose track of the rest of your life, Manny,” Walter said as I dried my hands. “You never know when you’ll wake up and find it slipping away.”
“Sure thing, Walter.” I crumpled the paper towel and tossed it in the trash. I thought my dick was going to explode if I spent any more time in such close proximity to him. “See you Monday.”
I hurried out the door without waiting for a response. I glanced down at my crotch and saw, to my horror, that my stiff dick was outlined against the khaki, and there was a wet spot at the tip of my dick, even though I’d shaken the urine off.
I was grateful that the rest of the guys were gone, and hurried through the dim bar and out into the blazing sunshine, squinting against the glare. Had Walter seen my hard-on? And what did he mean, telling me he thought I was charming and damned good-looking? Was that lust I’d seen in his eyes—for me?
Physical Assets
By the time I hit the causeway to Miami Beach, my dick had subsided, but I still had a strange feeling in my stomach—probably the result of too much beer and not enough tortilla chips and salsa. When I got up to the apartment, I scrambled for the bathroom and some privacy.
I didn’t need any reading material; just the thought of Walter Loredo next to me in the men’s room was enough to make me hard. I unbuckled my belt, unzipped my pants, dropped the lid on the toilet and sat down. My dick strained against my boxer briefs, and there was already a big wet spot on the fabric.
I pulled my dick free, closed my eyes and tried to remember that look in Walter’s eyes—had I really seen raw, sexual hunger? Or was I projecting my desire on him? What if I’d mistaken that look? He could have been horny for a woman, and he was already thinking about her.
I imagined him walking into a bedroom, pulling off his polo shirt. His
I had my zipper open and my dick out, peeing into a tall white urinal, when Walter followed me into the men’s room and took the urinal next to mine.
Don’t look at his dick, I said to myself. Don’t look at his dick.
“Beer goes right through me,” he said as he unzipped and let loose a stream.
I didn’t know what to say. I’ve never been good at urinal conversation. Some guys can keep up a flow of chatter, but not me. I’m too self-conscious, scared that if I stop paying attention to what I’m doing, I’ll end up pissing on myself.
Walter didn’t seem to notice. “How do you like working for me?” he asked. “Be honest, Manny. I want to hear it.”
My mouth was dry. “It’s great,” I croaked, thankful that my stream had turned to a trickle. “I’m learning a lot.”
“I can see that. You’re more than just charming and damned good-looking. You’re smart too, and that’s what really matters.”
He looked over at me as I was shaking the last drops from my dick. I felt it stiffening and hurried to stuff it back into my pants. “Thank you.”
“But you’ve got to think about the future,” he said. “Don’t be satisfied to be a superintendent, or even a manager. Set your sights high. That’s what I did.”
I was careful to keep my eyes on his face, which was turned toward the wall again. “How did you do it?” I asked. “How did you get to be so successful so fast?”
He finished pissing and zipped up. “Hard work and single-minded focus,” he said. “I never let myself get distracted. Eyes on the prize, you know.”
At that moment, though, his eyes were on me with a kind of longing in them. “Sometimes I think back to when I was your age, starting out. What if I’d paid more attention to the rest of my life?”
“It’s not like you’re ancient, Walter,” I said, walking over to the single sink to wash my hands.
He joined me at the sink, sticking his hands into the flow right next to mine. My heart skipped a beat, and I pulled them away as if they’d caught fire.
“Don’t lose track of the rest of your life, Manny,” Walter said as I dried my hands. “You never know when you’ll wake up and find it slipping away.”
“Sure thing, Walter.” I crumpled the paper towel and tossed it in the trash. I thought my dick was going to explode if I spent any more time in such close proximity to him. “See you Monday.”
I hurried out the door without waiting for a response. I glanced down at my crotch and saw, to my horror, that my stiff dick was outlined against the khaki, and there was a wet spot at the tip of my dick, even though I’d shaken the urine off.
I was grateful that the rest of the guys were gone, and hurried through the dim bar and out into the blazing sunshine, squinting against the glare. Had Walter seen my hard-on? And what did he mean, telling me he thought I was charming and damned good-looking? Was that lust I’d seen in his eyes—for me?
Physical Assets
By the time I hit the causeway to Miami Beach, my dick had subsided, but I still had a strange feeling in my stomach—probably the result of too much beer and not enough tortilla chips and salsa. When I got up to the apartment, I scrambled for the bathroom and some privacy.
I didn’t need any reading material; just the thought of Walter Loredo next to me in the men’s room was enough to make me hard. I unbuckled my belt, unzipped my pants, dropped the lid on the toilet and sat down. My dick strained against my boxer briefs, and there was already a big wet spot on the fabric.
I pulled my dick free, closed my eyes and tried to remember that look in Walter’s eyes—had I really seen raw, sexual hunger? Or was I projecting my desire on him? What if I’d mistaken that look? He could have been horny for a woman, and he was already thinking about her.
I imagined him walking into a bedroom, pulling off his polo shirt. His
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