So you might know that I am featured in this little anthology called Chemical [se]X, which has gotten a great deal of accolade. In the process, I got to communicate with a lot of fabulous authors and developed quite the author crush on Dario Dalla Lasta. Dario has so much going on, I am breathless just thinking about it! He has a brand new anthology out called Squeeze Pants published by the fabulous Go Deeper Press! His erotica is sexy, fun and filled with a lot of emotion. Dario is my guest today, offering a little commentary on the pieces that I love by him–both of which include toilet stalls–and talking just a bit about the nature of desire.
Without further ado–here’s Dario first on his process, followed by a delicious excerpt!
As for my fascination with toilet stalls, what’s not to love? There is always something (or someone) of interest in a restroom. Every since I was a child, I’ve been both obsessed and repelled by public/school restrooms; they’re scary and stinky, private and public, revolting and sexy. And bathroom graffiti alone is worth the trip. I still remember a childish scribble on a YMCA bathroom stall when I was taking swimming lessons as a young boy: “Here I sit, brokenhearted, paid a dime and only farted.” I have never forgotten that, even after 40 years! Obviously, I’ve had several incidents in bathrooms that were major turn-ons. Living in New York amongst several million people, you find yourself crowded into bathrooms on a regular basis. Especially at bars. Plus, stalls are an easy refuge to escape to for some deliciously deviant behavior with another buddy. Both of my stories (“[du]X” from the “Chemical [se]X” anthology and “Marble Sentinels” from “Squeeze Pants”) are partly autobiographical. I had a delicious run-in with a hot stud I had known for years, back when the Roxy nightclub had roller skating nights. He was definitely my muse for that erotic story! “Marble Sentinels” came about because of my crush on the superintendent of the building where I used to work. The mens’ bathroom there had two large, old-fashioned marble urinals that were just ripe for fantasizing about. I guess I like having a back story about men desiring one other over a period of time. The timing needs to be right, and “timing is everything” or so it’s been said. I myself have had years-long obsessions with boys that never came to fruition, so writing about it happening to characters from my imagination was cathartic.
Two minutes. In only two minutes, the studly superintendent’s cock will be mine. I adjust the junk in my boxer shorts, pop a breath mint, and walk as casually as possible back to the bathroom, praying no one else blocks my way. I’m in luck. The sign is still up and there’s no one around. This time, when I push on the door, it swings open into a darkened room, the white linoleum and marbled equipment barely a gleam in the gloom. “Hello?” I whisper. No answer. I dare not flick the light switch on, hoping to keep the pretense up of the toilet being closed for repairs. Instead, I carefully feel my way over to the last stall on the left, where I let myself in and wait. After a few tense moments, the swinging door opens, the click of a lock falls into place, and a pair of footsteps shuffles my way. “Pssst! Where you at?” “In here.” He knows exactly where I am. The stall door pushes open, and immediately a pair of arms wrap around my waist, his soft lips crushing against mine with feverish intent. He must be even hornier than me. I kiss back with just as much fervor while entwining my arms around his sinewy back until my hands rest on his ass shelf. Damn, boy has got a booty on him. My erection makes its presence known, especially after Joey’s packed crotch grinds against mine. His dick feels like a coiled snake, ready to strike. I throw my head back for a succession of kisses he plants along my neck. Our excitement echoes within the tiled walls, escalating as our fumblings turn more intense. By this point, my hands crawl up his shirt, playing with his nipples and smoothing down his fuzzy six pack. His tongue twirls in my ear, and his hot breath pours down the side of my face, ratcheting up my hotness to the boiling point. My cock drips with pre-come, the wetness spreading by the minute. Frantically, I begin undoing his belt by touch alone, my eyes blind in the dark, my tongue now swirling inside his mouth, trying to taste him, to get deeper inside this hunky man who I’ve been pining away for, this sexy stud who kisses me like a long-lost lover. No doubt he hasn’t kissed another man in quite some time from the way he paws at me. The belt buckle undone, I unzip his pants to discover an insistent pecker knocking on my knuckles trying to get out of its tight cage. No problem there. I pull the briefs down his thighs and disengage our mouths to concentrate on what has sprung out of his pants. A lively and long beast, from the feel of it. My palm runs up and down the silky length of it, and I grasp the burning shaft in my fist, squeezing all the way to the tip until a drop of semen seeps out. My finger swipes at it, and I lick it off. Joey squirms under my touch and swoops down to bite my nipple. When his teeth start to hurt me, I push him back so that I can fall to my knees and begin worshipping that gorgeous cock with my hungry mouth and loving hands. After a few sucks, his knees tremble and he almost pulls out. I refuse to let that happen and keep his cock right where it is. He relents, exhales loudly, and grabs the back of my neck. Forcing himself further down my throat, he pushes all the way in until I gag. My eyes begin watering; no doubt from happiness, at this point. He feels so good in there that I know his perfect-sized dick belongs in my mouth. He must agree with me, for then he begins face-fucking me faster and harder until his erection is ramming down my esophagus like a piston. Like I give a shit. I suck as if his dick is oxygen giving me life. I live for his fingers mauling my hair, for his groans of pleasure, for the nasty slurping sounds I make, and for the jizz that builds up in his bouncy balls that slap my chin. I want to drain him dry. “I’m—I’m gonna come,” he pants in ragged breaths. I egg him on by jerking his shaft while the dripping head is still plunged down my gullet, my tongue slathering up his pillar so much that strings of spit hang from the sides of my mouth. When he hits his orgasm, he yelps like a wounded creature, and I almost choke from the spurts that coat my throat, losing count of the repetitions. Swallowing as fast as I can, I hold him in place until his heaving subsides, loving his spent tool resting on my tongue. I don’t want to let him go. After a few moments, I reluctantly release him when he growls, “Now it’s your turn, captain. Get over to the urinals. Now!” Standing up on shaky legs, I swallow again, the salty sweetness of his come lingering in my mouth. Like the come slut I am, I want more. Curbing my appetites is a constant struggle, especially since I seem to have forgotten that glorious taste. It’s been a while, okay? Joey drags me out of the stall and pushes me toward the two stately sentries that hug the wall as they have for decades. What have they seen? How many cocks have expelled yellow piss down their drains? A staggering number fills my brain. “See these two urinals?” he asks me. “We’ve spent lots of time standing in front of them. I know how much you love them and how often you stare at my dick when we’re going next to other.” Not answering, I merely nod, even though he can barely see me in the dark. “So, because of that, I want you to fuck me right here, right now, so that you always think of me when you take a piss here. I wanna breathe the urinals in as I bend over them and you plow me from behind. ’Cause you’re gonna shoot up my ass, got it? Here,” he continues, placing something into my hand. A condom. The man comes prepared. I place it in my pocket until it is needed. But first things first. “Pull your pants down and bend over,” I order. What I am about to do is incomprehensible to me, although I am not about to let this opportunity pass by. Joey complies as instructed and immediately his pants are down about his boots, his butt poised like a dancer in Magic Mike. What I cannot discern clearly in the shadows has already been memorized in my mind. I kneel down behind him and pry his butt cheeks apart, exhaling with desire at the deed. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine eating out Joey’s ass. My tongue reaches his pucker hole instantly, and when I lick it hungrily, he instinctually moves back to me, asking for more. Rising to the challenge, I adjust my knees and get comfortable, planning to be down there for as long as possible. Once there’s an ass in my face to devour, I’m content. The super doesn’t let me down. He allows me all the time I want, and in between working over his hole, I run my tongue over the entire length of his crack, stopping here and there to lick his taint and fondle his ball sack, which drives him wild. He tastes both sweet and tart down there, an unusual combination I find as compelling as an aphrodisiac. As a result, I gobble his ass like a ravenous pig and drill my tongue so far up his tasty hole that the fucking has already commenced. His whimpers fill me with encouragement, and before long, my cock is in one hand with his in the other. I stroke our dicks in time to my tongue thrusts until I almost shoot on the cold floor. I pinch my dick to stop the convulsions, deciding to bring this madness to the next level. Besides, he is more than ready for me to enter; I mean, after all, the dude’s salad has been dutifully tossed. Now the condom can come out.