Stall 5
#1 of Stall 5
Stall 5 7:49am
Switch fumbled for and flipped, the long fluorescent rods buzzed to life overhead.
"Sigh."
Maki bumped the door closed with his butt, leaning back against it as he clumsily stirred his morning coffee. His shades were askew, slipping down the bridge of his nose as he shivered in the cold of the dingy bathroom. Once eight rolled around, the heating system would automatically kick on, taking most of the chill off. But that was a good hour from now, and the yellow monkey shifted uncomfortably in his hoodie, breath pluming out in a white fog.
Maki surveyed his dirty workspace with dispassion. A row of dirty sinks along one wall, a row of equally dirty and ramshackle stalls along the other. Spanning the berth between them, a sea of dirty black and white tiles, all chipped. A couple of urinals; a long, uninterrupted length of aluminum mirror; a condom/cologne dispenser. All dirty.
Maki sighed. I really should clean this dump.
The walls and the stalls were both done a headache-inducing shade of blue that had long-since been covered up with brightly-colored graffiti, swastikas and crudely drawn penises.
Penises? Penii?
Maki blinked. He'd have to Wiktionary the correct plural tense for more than one cock when he got back home that night.
The dicks on the walls were of every imaginable make and model. Some had knots, some had barbs. Some were hard and leaking, some were flaccid and lonely-looking. Some were crude stick figures, some were goddamn murals that must have taken multiple visits from a competent artist to complete. They streaked over vulgar words, and in turn were streaked over with vulgar words themselves. It was kind of like an archaeological dig site, where each successive layer of obscenity represented a different era in the inexorable passage of time.
The monkey smiled. Damn that's deep, he commended himself proudly. Why'd I ever drop out of community college?
Maki poked open the creaking door of the last stall and went in, sliding the bolt home with a rusty click. He climbed up and sat on the back of the toilet's tank, resting his sneakers on the seat so that his feet wouldn't show in the gap between the base of the door and the floor. Even though everyone for miles knew what stall #5 was used for, there were still the occasional park-goers from out of town who'd come in to use the facilities. And those bastards were never cool.
Maki fished a pack of disposable wipes out of the fanny pack clipped around his bony waist, holding on to the safety railing as he began to methodically wipe down the implements of the wall next to him. First the stainless steel half-seat and it's adjoining port, then the wider port, and finally the back of the change machine and dollar dispenser. The glass viewing screen, which he had to Windex, was next. And finally, the mechanical curtain - which he couldn't do anything with besides check to see that it still worked - was saved for the very last. Done with his morning routine, the little monkey settled himself against the back of the toilet, propping his feet up on the safety railing. Fishing out a magazine from behind the tank, he waited for the first customer of the day to swallow his pride and shuffle on in.
7:49 a.m.
The door creaked open slowly. The sound of shuffling footsteps echoed over the tiles.
Maki folded the hot rod magazine he was pouring over and sat back against the wall, holding his breath as he listened.
The door creaked closed and a long pause ensued, wherein each of the two occupants of the building waited with bated breath for the other to make a sound. A long sigh, a further shuffling of feet, and Stall 4 was occupied with a slide of the bolt.
Maki sighed. First fare of the day. He leaned over and looked beneath the wall divider. Buffed leather shoes and pressed slacks. Definite businessman.
Maki slid off the back of his toilet, the noise causing the suit in the next stall to jump. This was obviously his first time. The young monkey rolled his hips and popped his back, interlacing his fingers and stretching his arms out in front of him as he waited for Mr. White Collar to psychologically validate himself and choose an option from the bronze plaque mounted on the wall.
Another pause, a rustling of the pockets, and a crisp 10-dollar bill was fed into the machine in the wall, which Maki promptly retrieved. Maki examined the bill closely, smirking as he turned it over in his long fingers. It was a crisp, brand-spanking-new ten dollar bill. The suit had gone to the bank yesterday, likely just so that he could have an un-crinkled Benjamin to feed into the machine.
Maki's grin turned sleasy. It wouldn't have been the first time someone had held back beyond the velvet-roped maze, having to steel their courage before snaking their way up to the bank teller in order to request only your newest bills, please ma'am.
In a way, it was cute. In a desperate sort of pathetic way.
Once the bill had cleared, the suit selected his estimated thickness, and the variable port size mechanism on Maki's side ratcheted around to his selection. The port opened, and Maki was greeted with a sickly beam of light streaming in from around a zipper.
He closed one eye as he peeked through the gloryhole. A hefty brown paw (Maki's money was riding on 'bear') was stroking at what appeared to be half a roll of TUMS being stored in the man's front pocket. Great. Another Millimeter Peter.
Maki wiggled his fingers in the hole, and the tent in the bear's pants hurriedly closed the gap. The monkey worked his fingers along the bear's front, squeezing it's meager girth but not having enough wiggle room to stroke along it's length.
Sensing a stall to the morning's festivities, the business bear wrenched himself from Maki's grasp, hastily fumbling at his zipper with trembling paws. "S-sorry," the man mumbled, chuckling nervously. "I've... never really done this before."
"I can tell," Maki responded, working his jaw back and forth in preparation.
Somehow the bear managed, and a plump, laughably short pecker pushed its way through the hole. They were followed shortly thereafter by a pair of balls that, from the look of them, hadn't been drained in months, and part of a bulbous gut.
Maki pinched his nose.
All guys have a different smell. A different challenge to face and overcome each time zippers came down and dicks flopped through into his turf. The bear's thick, wiry pubes and leaking cock had the pall of domestication about them. Home-cooked meals. A suburban house full of lacquer furniture and knickknacks. A freshly-mown lawn that, by dint of a neighborhood charter, couldn't be any more than an inch high.
To Maki, it was only slightly more tolerable than the park hobo who'd come in on Mondays for his weekly suck job.
"C-could you, maybe, hurry a little?" the bear said through ostensibly clenched teeth. "I have to be at work in a bit."
Judging from the mess that the bear's cock was dribbling on his floor, Maki didn't think that would be a problem. He began to unenthusiastically jack the bear's cock, frowning as his hand got wet with pre in the process.
"Oh god," the bear moaned, awkwardly thrusting into the monkey's hand as his meaty claws pitted holes along the top of the stall. Maki, not wanting to have to conduct the day's business on a wet floor, dropped unceremoniously to his knees. Opening his maw comically wide, the monkey said 'Aah' and swallowed the bear's meager cock to the hilt, eliciting a surprised yelp from his grateful patron.
Maki buried his nose into the bear's coarse black pubes, gagging softly on the salty taste of his spurting cock as it proceeded to lube his tongue and throat. He reached up to cup the bear's heavy nuts, working them around the palm of his hand as if they were Chinese medicine balls. Curling his lips over his teeth, Maki bobbed effortlessly on his customer's throbbing shaft, matching the bear's fevered thrusts as he anxiously fucked the monkey's throat through the hole in the wall.
Once or twice, the man's violent poundings against the sturdy particle board were enough to make Maki's gag reflex flare up. But he held his ground like a seasoned pro, allowing the Store Manager or the Ad Exec or whatever the hell he was to set their pace.
"Oh god," gulped the bear. "Oh god. . . oh god. . ."
Maki rolled his eyes, giving the bear's hefty balls a squeeze as he opened his throat wider for him. His vision was filled by the bear's wiry pubes. His chin was brushing against the bear's fat, low-hanging balls.
He began to bob up and down on the bear's plump member, lavishing his attention on it, coating it with his saliva. He'd draw it out only long enough to admire his handiwork - a small, violently throbbing and spit-shined shaft - before favoring the meaty head with a kiss and returning to the task at hand, sucking himself down the entire length in one mighty swallow.
And then the bear came.
It happened so suddenly. Maki's eyes widened. He had not even a second's warning - a slight change in taste on the back of his throat - before the bear's cock gave a powerful throb, relinquishing it's pent-up load on the the monkey's uvula with the force of an uncapped fire hyrdrant.
"PPPPffffffgghhh..." Maki wretched, sputtering as his mouth was filled with the acrid taste of backlogged seed. It expanded his cheeks. It splashed over his tongue until it felt like his tongue was floating in an aquarium full of salty brine.
Maki felt his throat clench as he closed his eyes, his lips around the base of the man's shaft forming the only seal keeping the load from washing out onto the chipped tiles below. It tasted like sawdust. Sawdust and dish soap. Sawdust and dish soap and lacquer furniture and doilies and. . .
Maki swallowed.
It didn't all go down in the first attempt. So he swallowed again. And kept right on swallowing until the entire runny, salty mess was well on it's way to his stomach.
The dick was pried gently from Maki's lips, and something collapsed on the toilet in the stall beyond his, panting heavily. Stealing a quick peek, Maki verified that the cock he had been munching on had indeed belonged to a bear.
"Oh god. . ." the spent ursine said, mopping his sweat-drenched face with the crux of his arm. His cock and pubes now sported a glossy coating - both of spit and the man's own baby batter. It dribbled down his massive sweaty balls, dripping rhythmically into the toilet water.
Maki watched him intently through the port in the wall, fascinated. The bear's gut spilled out over the mound of pubes, coming to rest just atop his upwards-pointing, still-throbbing cock, looking as if the poor little dick were trying to support the weight of the world on it's knobby shoulders.
Once he'd regained enough of his composure to affect a speedy exit, the bear zipped up his fly, fumbled at the bolt and - with neither a word of thanks nor goodbye - was heel-toeing it over the cracked tiles. And just like that, he was out the front door, a whoosh of air following in his hurried wake.
Once he was gone, Maki turned to the toilet next to him. Opening it's lid, he spat what was left of the man from his mouth, watching as it accrued as a mucus-like foam on the surface before going spiralling down the chute with a depression of the handle.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Maki checked his watch.
It was six minutes after eight. His day had only just begun.