I had to visit my office near Camden today. On the way back to Camden station, decided to see if the toilets were open and anything was going on. There was a woman with a buggy outside. By the urinals stood a muscular, handsome guy with salt and pepper hair. A toddler played nearby, near one of the cabin doors. I stood there, trying to piss, and could tell that he was also not pissing. Then one of the doors opened and a man came out with another child. He grabbed both kids and left. Now the muscle dad was staring at me. As soon as we were alone, he stepped away and jerked his flaccid cock at me. I was about to do the same when he spun around back to the urinal and warned me with his eyes. An elderly man was coming down the stairs. The elderly man went into one of the cabins and closed the door. I moved closer to the guy, two urinals away. His nipples were hard — he squeezed one after the other while jerking off. Then he made a gesture for me to lean down. And so I did, with his cock growing hard in my mouth, about 5. Smooth, hairless balls, tight ass I could hold, muscular legs. We kept stopping, thinking someone was coming. Then I leaned down again and sucked some more. He grabbed my head and started facefucking me until we had to stop: three young guys were coming down. One of the guys gave me a look — I think he could tell what we were up to. I grudgingly left and now I have a delicious smell of cock on my beard and a craving for more! This morning, in the toilets just inside Canary Wharf tube station, two suits by the urinals. One is short and ginger, almost a dwarf. But he has a hard and thick cock. The other guy is my height, 5,11, and with a wedding ring. When the three of us find ourselves alone, we stand back and show each other our cocks. He looks quite pleased in the middle. But just as he leans down for a quick suck on the other guy, someone comes is. Married guy and I retreat, wash our hands and leave. Also, a week ago, I dropped by the Canary Wharf toilets near the Everyman cinema -3 floor. Every time, there was one or more guys cruising in there. He talked about being stuck in boring presentations at work, his mind on which toilets he could cruise afterwards. But also of feeling ashamed and dirty, hoping he could speak to someone who did the same as him. And he asked a question which I extend to all readers of this blog: do you wonder whether you are the only one who feels shame when cruising? Him and I have chatted over email in the meantime and I have to apologise A. The exhibition is by the French photographer Marc Martin. And yet, these public toilets, whose history is intertwined with the lives and adventures of many gays, trans people, escorts, libertines, are also unlikely bastions of freedom. VICE has two articles on the exhibition. The other VICE article is by Jeff Leavell, who talks about. Some people think cruising is dying public toilets are certainly shutting down and this might be the result of gay hookup apps. Some guys like the element of risk, or the chance of running into a straight guy who wants to experiment. For many gay guys, this is their first encounter with other gay men. They were too ashamed to tell others. I personally feel really lucky to be a gay guy, to be part of this group of men in the world that are so diverse and beautiful, and I hope you feel the same or are on your way to feeling it. A week ago, my boyfriend and I travelled to the South Bank to meet some friends for dinner. Outside Embankment station, my boyfriend said he needed to buy a toothbrush and would go look for it on Charing Cross. First stop was the 1st floor toilet — the one right at the back, near the stage for free concerts. There was just one guy washing his hands, a middle-aged Indian man, on his way out. Tried the ground floor toilet next. An older man with glasses and white hair, carrying a plastic bag real air of professor about him , followed me down the stairs. But when he saw me try to open the door and find it locked, he spun around and went back up. I took the side exit door and left the building. I walked around the Festival Hall, went back in and took the elevator up to the 4th floor. The area was deserted. I went up a short flight of stairs and found the toilets to my left, tucked in a corner. There was just one guy standing by the urinals, clearly cruising. He was short, bald, with a salt-and-pepper beard, a protruding belly and muscular tits. He reminded me of one of those muscular dwarves from the Lord of the Rings films. After a few moments of tugging, we turned to each other and showed our cocks. His was about the same size as mine, 5. He gestured for me to join him by his other side, away from the opening doors. He slid his hand under my balls, looking for my asshole. I moved closer to give him easier access. Then he slid his hand to my back and cupped my ass. I worked his shaft with my hand then leaned down and took him into my mouth. With his other hand he held my head and facefucked me. When I got up again, he opened his shirt and unbuckled his trousers. Then he started working on my belt. I ran my hand through his thick chest hair. It was moist and smelt of cologne. Suddenly the door opened and we fumbled back towards the urinals, pulling our trousers up. It was the professor type with his plastic bag. We went back to playing with each other. I sucked his cock a little more, and when I came up for air he slid his hand up my stomach to my chest, then back to my ass. I felt too coscious about the noise we were making, with the other guy inside the cubicle. There were also my friends and boyfriend waiting for me. So I zipped up, patted his ass as a goodbye, and headed for the restaurant. They were all sitting together, drinks already in front of them. I sat down and shared a private smile with him. A beautiful day in London yesterday, after what felt like weeks of poor, chilly weather. As it was Friday and I was under the buzz of a beer with co-workers, decided to walk home through Hackney rather than take public transport. Friday afternoon, sunshine — it was bound to be busy right? Unfortunately, there was nobody around, apart from some guys drinking beer nearby or sleeping on benches. Some 15 minutes later, a really attractive guy walked past me, full of purpose, straight for the toilets. I waited a little and then followed — but he was gone. One of them, , is a documentary about City bankers who cruise public toilets.
