Justin was only thinking of one thing: release.
He needed to piss like a racehorse; he shouldn't have had that passion tea lemonade, but it was so fucking hot. He had needed something to cool himself on his long walk.
And now he was paying the price. He looked for a private bathroom and received a reward. Thank God, a hotel. They always have a washroom.
He entered the lobby and saw his destination. The hotel was posh, but usually staff didn't mind people coming in to use the washroom. Entering the bathroom, he went to the urinals. So intent was he at relieving his burden that he didn't realize someone had come in to stand beside him. As Justin released the last drop and shook his cock to free it, he got a good view of the man beside him.
And the man's cock.
It was already partially hard. The man worked it with a lazy kind of skill; the girth and length of the cock thickened under the man's touch. Justin looked up. He always wanted to see the whole package. It would help in his fantasies later.
Justin was never surprised anymore when men started jerking off beside him in washrooms. He supposed it was a gay thing. The whole sexuality of it was kind of like a challenge. Sort of like a dirtyHi and How Are Ya? In Justin's world, it was the social norm.
The only surprise this time was that the man was a cop.
He wore blue pants with a yellow stripe down the side. Justin saw a trim stomach and a set of muscled abs. The cop's arms and chest strained against the tightness of his gray uniform dress shirt.
The man had the sleeves rolled up past his elbow, and he had on one glove. Justin wondered if that was the hand he shot his gun with. After all, he would be able to handle both of his guns with the same hand that way. Justin smiled.
The cop, unaware of Justin's internal monologue, leaned closer. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'm on duty, but you're kind of hot."
Justin felt his cock harden on its own. His heart sped to an incredible rate. "I'm sorry?" Justin did have a thing about men in uniform. The cop even had a sexy shaved head. Justin could see some stubble growing in, a salt-and-pepper scruff. The cop's chin and jawline were also covered in a couple of days' growth.
His arms were colored a deep tan, the hair there bleached golden. And the cop's cock was long and thick; he could just touch his fingers together while wrapping them around his dick. The cop stroked his cock, slowly, almost as an invitation.
"What's your name?" he asked.
It didn't occur to Justin to give a fake name; he had lost all inhibition, after all. "Justin."
"Justin Wright?" The voice was gruff but warm, like whiskey over rocks. "The writer?"
Justin nodded. "That's me." He paused. "How do you know my name?"
The cop shook his head. "I'm Sergeant Matheson." He pointed to his nametag, his badge. "Do you think you can remember that?"
Justin knew it was an order. "Yes."
"Good." The cop flicked his hand in a come-hither motion. "Come closer." He grinned. "I won't bite."
Justin moved slightly to his left, and the cop wrapped his arms around Justin's middle. He reached down to fondle Justin's buttocks, kneading them. When the cop kissed him, slamming his tongue into Justin's mouth, Justin lost all ability to think clearly. He just gave in to the sensation.
Kissing the cop back, Justin let his tongue dip in and taste, savoring him. He tasted like wine and smoke. Angling the kiss deeper, Justin moaned softly when the cop took Justin's dick in his firm grasp.
"Quiet," he soothed. "We can't let anyone hear us. But I wanted to touch you." The cop smiled at him. "Are you hairy?"
Justin nodded. "Yeah."
"Show it to me. Take off your shirt."