The Multi-Class Cubicle

He kept staring at me, first at my face then down to my crotch. Then he’d look away, only to stare back again. Soon he was staring at my growing erection, barely concealed by the flimsy small towel, with a mind of its own.

So you know what happened next.

We ducked inside this open cubicle… when I noticed that it was the same one wherein I had sex with Mr. Orgi Peoples! When I locked the door, he asked in impeccable English, “Do you suck?” Ah yes! I thought… subject and verb agreed, tense is correct, and(!) he had a wursh-wursh twang only found among elite school students and inveterate social-climbers. So I answered, “Yah-huh!” in the sweetest, female-anime-character-impersonation voice I could muster.

Soon we were pawing at each other, hands and lips and tongues merging, squeezing, pushing, rubbing. When I went down on him, he uttered between gasps, “Oh! Yes! Oh…! Dude!”

Dude?! Did he just call me dude?

Well, well, well! Swinging from one end of the socio-economic spectrum to the other! Call me a bi-SECxual.

Or maybe a metro-SECxual. Multi-SECxual?

Heck, call me horny.