Or stay and have fun with the other guys
From Create Your Own Story
The older man finishes adjusting himself, zipping up his pants with a practiced motion. His calloused hand lands on your head, ruffling your hair briefly before he steps past you. He pauses at the door, glancing back at the other two men with a knowing smirk. "Have fun, boys," he says, his voice low and amused. A quick wink in your direction, and then he's gone, the bathroom door swinging shut behind him.
Now it's just you and them—two strangers whose hungry eyes track your every movement. You're still kneeling in the cramped cubicle, jeans pooled around your ankles, your own arousal straining upward, flushed and eager. Their hands move in slow, deliberate strokes over their cocks, their gazes locked onto you like you're the only thing that matters in this moment.
The need burns through you, hotter than hesitation. Without breaking eye contact, you kick your jeans and underwear aside, the fabric sliding off your legs and landing in a careless heap on the tile. Now you're only dressed in your t-shirt, socks, and sneakers—exposed in the most delicious way. Rising on unsteady legs, you close the distance between you and them, drawn forward by the magnetic pull of lust.
You sink back to your knees, this time directly in front of them, their hard lengths bobbing inches from your face. The musky scent of them fills your lungs, intoxicating. One hand wraps around the construction worker's thick shaft, the other grips the second man's cock. Your fingers tighten, stroking in tandem, earning low groans from both.
Then you lean in, taking the construction worker into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his head before sinking deeper. He curses above you, fingers tangling in your hair as you suck him in earnest. When you pull off with a wet pop, you don't hesitate—switching to the other man, tasting the difference, the salt and heat of him flooding your senses.
Above you, they're not just passive observers anymore—their mouths crash together in a messy, desperate kiss, their moans vibrating against each other's lips. You watch them from below, drunk on the sight, your own arousal throbbing in time with the rhythm of your mouth and hands.
Every slurp, every gasp, every shift of their hips drives you wild. You lose yourself in it, in the give-and-take, in the way their bodies respond to you. There's no room for thought—only sensation, only hunger, only this.
What do you do next
