He KNEW!!!

My dad went to a business convention for a week every summer. Sometimes the whole family went with him if it was at a good vacation place. The year I was fifteen we went to Las Vegas and stayed at a hotel with a roof-top swimming pool.

Dad had meetings all day. My mother and sister slept-in during the mornings but I would be up kind of early, exploring the hotel and trying to sneak into the gambling hall (never succeeded). I'd often be the first person at the pool for an early swim. One day while swimming I met this terrific guy I’m going to call Carson. He was close to my age (within a year) and like me he liked to swim in the mornings when few people were at the pool. He was a black dude. One of the things that fascinated me about him was how his wet skin would shine in the sun. Carson was real skinny and wore a baggy Caribbean swimsuit. I could see he wore bright undies which appeared sometimes when he moved because of his loose waist-band

A couple of days into the week we were laying on lounges, taking in the sun and shooting the bull. The late-teen lifeguard climbed down and talked to us if nobody else was in the pool. Carson was up on current movies and bands and games. We really became friends.

There was a pause in the conversation. Then Carson said he needed to go to the restroom (a small building near the pool), and did I want to come along?

Carson went into a stall and said he would be busy for a few minutes. We kept talking, me standing and leaning against the wall while waiting for him.

Very quickly I realized that Carson was not dumping a load, he was working on his dick. It was unmistakable. The shadow of his arm could be seen on the floor, shaking with the rhythm of jacking. He moved his feet around. There was no doubt about it.

I’m not going to pretend I was a virgin about masturbation. What Carson was doing immediately triggered a response in my pants. While Carson worked on himself my own peter stretched out and stood up.

The question was, how should I handle the situation? Did Carson think he was giving himself a private wank? Was he strangely naive, unaware of what he was communicating to me? I leaned against the wall and squeezed my hard-on.

Finally I made up my mind and stepped into the other stall. I locked the door, dropped my swimsuit and sat on the pot. I squeezed and wiggled my boner a few times while trying to see if Carson was still pumping himself. A few glances under the wall and I knew the answer was "yes." Conversation had ceased and we were going after it side-by-side, one white guy and one black guy happily jacking off in adjacent stalls on the roof of a Las Vegas hotel.

After what seemed like a long silence, Carson spoke softly: "You doin’ okay over there?"

"Yeah," I answered. "You?"

"Oh yeah," he whispered. "Like you, real good."

We continued jacking. Soon a strange little noise, sort of a stifled and whispered "eep" reached me from the other stall. I knew without a doubt that Carson had completed his mission.

Then came the sound of toilet paper unrolling. Carson pulled up his trunks and said, "I’ll be out at the pool."

"Alright," I told him.

My moment arrived within seconds. I slid back on the seat and ejaculated massively into the pot.

After we got back to the pool the lifeguard wandered over, nodded toward the restroom building, and said, "Everything okay in there?"

I looked at Carson. He looked at me. Finally one of us said "I guess."

The lifeguard said "Good" and went back to his perch.

"He knows!" Carson whispered.

"Naah," I said. "You’re paranoid."

We resumed swimming and sunning ourselves. Neither one of us made any reference to what we had just done, although Carson had to know what I did just like I knew what he did. But as we swam, it was as if our pursuit of dual climaxes had never occurred. The lifeguard stayed on his stand, occasionally looking at us.

Not until twenty-four hours later did we acknowledge the previous day’s activity. We had been in and out of the water a few times that next morning, joked with the lifeguard, towelled ourselves off - just normal stuff. We were stretched out on lounges when Carson asked, "You want to go to the bathroom?"

"If you do."

"Might as well, then."

This time I went right into the stall next to him. Soon we were pumping away on our dicks and peeking around to make sure both of us knew exactly what we were up to.

"Did you ever mess with a black guy?" Carson asked in a subdued voice, nearly a whisper.

"No."

That seemed to be the end of the conversation. We were still jacking, still moving our feet around, still well aware of what we were doing. Then Carson says, "You can look if you want to. Fine with me. Maybe see what the black dude's got."

Now, how was I supposed to manage that? I was not familiar with the methods of cruising in a public restroom. Should I try to look under the wall? Or pull my Speedo up so I could leave the stall and look through the gap by Carson's door. Or stand on the pot and look over the wall? Since I was the silent majority, I voted for the third option, silently climbing onto the toilet and leaning over the partition. 

 

Carson was stretched out on his crapper, feet and legs fully extended and torso leaning back against the plumbing. He gave me a brief look and concentrated on showing me "Exhibit A." For several seconds I stared at his impressive tool. I’d never seen one like it. Its head was sort of dark maroonish brown, while the shaft was deepest satin black. The dude slowly pumped it, pausing occasionally to wiggle and squeeze himself.

After a moment Carson said, "My turn?"

So I sat down on my pot and assumed the same stretched-out pose that I’d just observed.

Carson’s head came over the wall.

"Oh, dude!" he said. "Nice one, bro. Nice one."

Carson kept standing, kept watching. "You about to blow your wad, man?"

"Almost."

"I’m gonna watch. Okay? Okay if I watch?"

"Yeah."

Within seconds I was into the feelings, slowing down as the moment crept nearer and nearer. Carson’s eyes were fixed on my crotch, his mouth slightly open as he watched me.

What should I do about cumming? Shoot it in the pot again? Or into a wad of butt paper?

Now Carson began shaking while he watched. "I’m doin’ it too!" His quiet voice trembled. "Doin’ it with you, bro!"

I simply let the ejaculation fire into open air. It was a substantial volley of squirts. Some of them landed on my bathing suit. Some fired up into the air and dropped onto the floor or hit the metal partition. Then more stuff came oozing out of my softening prick after the main squirts ended.

Carson was trembling like a two-cycle lawnmower, still staring over the wall while rapidly pumping himself. "Good shot! Good shot! I saw you cum. I’m gonna– I’m gonna–"

I don’t know how to spell the breathy sounds Carson made while he stood on his toilet and reached his climax while watching me get mine. He repeated bursts of breath with words hidden inside them, like all he could get out of his mouth was air: "Almost! Cumming! Now! Now--  Suddenly he swallowed and forced out the words "Gonna cum!" with the enthusiasm of a first-time jacker.

That announcement was followed by a strangely constricted series of whispered "Oh's." Then a noise that wasn't a word at all, something like a repeated series of hard "C....C.....C" sounds that seemed to be an effort to say the word "Cum." Another moment of silence during which he seemed to pound himself at 60 miles an hour. And then a totally screwy exhale noise that sounded kind of like "HOWF!" Having got that word out, he stood still and panted for breath.

After a few seconds he looked down at me. I was still sitting on the pot, watching my dick pull back into its sheath. As if I hadn't figured it out, Carson told me softly, "I came."

When we walked out of the restroom on our way back to the pool, the lifeguard gave us a long funny look.

"He knows!" Carson said again.

"How could he?"

"He knows. I can tell. Did you see him looking at us? He knows, man, he knows!"

Carson and I had one more swim together the next morning. Within a few minutes of meeting each other at the pool we headed to the restroom. Carson demonstrated something that I’d never experienced before, kneeling on the floor and sticking your boner under the partition.

Both of us knew we'd never run into each other again. We went out of our way to make this final rendezvous worthwhile. The dude and I brought each other to jumbo ejaculations, each of us tenderly milking the other and leaving substantial puddles of mingled semen on the floor.

The lifeguard watched every step we took on the way back to our lounges.

"Everything okay, guys?" he yelled at us.

"Yeah," I told him.

"He knows!" Carson said once more.

"Is he gonna turn us in?"

"Naw. Look at him again! He’s maybe a high school guy. He's freakin'  ‘cuz he couldn’t leave his stand and do it with us."

The lifeguard didn’t take his eyes off of us the rest of the morning. He also couldn't get the front of his swim trunks adjusted comfortably despite constant effort.

He did know.

Regi Sharp