“You looking for cock”.
Those four words. Almost illegible. Scrawled in Biro on a scrap of brown envelope paper.
The note had been shoved under the stall partition of the lavatory that I was occupying. Unfortunately, I was there to use the facilities, and at that particular moment cruising for cock was the last thing on my mind.
But still, the illicit note did cause my cock to chub up. My mind raced, should I answer yes? What if it was a trick? It was the first time I had used this restroom. The mall toilet appeared to be a recognised cruising venue. The sheet steel bolted onto the side partitions was testament to the types of sexual activity the rest room was used for in times gone by, steel sheet being better in preventing the formation of glory holes.
As quick as a flash, a hand snaked under the partition and snatched the note back. The hand returned a moment later and made the universal "jerk off" signal, his intentions were more than clear.
I had finished what I was there for, but my cock wouldn't go down, the thrill of this unexpected encounter pushing my hormones into overdrive. I made a decision, and for once my head overruled my genitals, and I decided it was just too risky to proceed any further.
My cock had still not fully deflated as I pulled up my boxer briefs. I adjusted my cock so it was trapped against the sheer material of my underwear. The bulge was still noticeable down the left side of my jeans when I pulled them up. After flushing I put on my jacket before exiting the stall, directly in front of which were a row of urinals.
There were a few guys in the restroom. Two were standing by the urinals, one imitating all the actions of peeing without the sound of running water. On hearing the stall door open he turned slightly to look at me, looking me up and down, before fixing his gaze on my crotch. A smile played on his lips, he had definitely liked what he saw there.
I went to wash my hands, walking slower than I usually would as the movement of my underwear over my engorged phallus wasn't helping to deflate my arousal. Passing a number of men as I walked over to the sink, then to the hand dryer. I was unsure if the phantom hand belonged to any of them. The action of washing and drying my hands had served to deflate my cock somewhat so I left the bathroom.
It was clear that the guys there were cruising, just hanging around the restroom like it was a holiday resort. It was so blatant. I can understand why they do it though, the rush I felt when I was propositioned was intense, and maybe when I find myself feeling horny, the lure of the mall bathroom may be too strong to resist.
