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VIKTOR COULDN’T HOLD IT - I stayed and kept sucking him.
LGBTQ+EroticaDark Romance

VIKTOR COULDN’T HOLD IT - I stayed and kept sucking him.

by Silas Thorne
ExplicitAI Assisted
4,225 words
gaymmmature menolder mansilver daddywatersportspiss drinkingbathroomblowjobsecond personviktor lang

The meeting with Viktor Lang ran long. You stop at the hotel bathroom before leaving and find him already at the urinal, pissing hard. You take the one next to him. Both of you stand there with your cocks out, streams hitting the porcelain, neither of you looking away. He finishes, skins it back, and shows you the thick, wet cock. You reach out and take it in your hand. “Want to suck it?” he says. You drop to your knees in the marble bathroom and take him in your mouth. He doesn’t pull out. He couldn’t hold it. Hot piss floods your throat while you stay there and keep sucking, swallowing everything he gives you. This is not romance. This is a silver daddy who empties his bladder down your throat in a hotel bathroom and a man who doesn’t pull away. No filters. Just the taste of a man who couldn’t hold it.

CW:watersportspiss drinkingpublic bathroommature mensecond person
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Preview from chapter one

Todos los derechos reservados.

Primera edición: 2026

VIKTOR COULDN’T HOLD IT

I stayed and kept sucking him.

Esta es una obra de ficción. Cualquier parecido con personas reales es pura coincidencia.

Queda prohibida su reproducción total o parcial sin autorización escrita del autor.

Este relato es solo para adultos (+18).

Todos los personajes son adultos.

After the Meeting

I’ve shut the laptop. The meeting with Viktor Lang ran long, and I want to switch off. It was a hard one. In the end we both came out of it satisfied. He left a while ago; I stayed behind closing the deal with his people.

I pick up the phone and the jacket. Before I leave the hotel I stop at the toilet. I’ve needed a proper piss since mid-afternoon.

I go in. The bathroom is large, marble, a vase of flowers by the sinks. There are three urinals. A man is pissing at the middle one.

I take the urinal next to him. I know him as soon as I look. It’s Viktor. He sees me too. We start to say hello and it comes out wrong, both of us standing there with our cocks out.

“Hello, Viktor.”

“Hello,” he says, low.

“The meeting ran on in the end. I couldn’t hold it any more. I came straight here.”

“Yes. I needed the toilet too. I was bursting.”

He’s a big man. Heavy-built. About sixty. Six foot. Two hundred and forty pounds on him properly, the kind that fill a jacket and don’t hide it. Shaved head, a dull sheen under the white light. Broad face. Thick neck.

He has presence. I’ve always found him very attractive, and I’ve always liked that body: the neck, the belly, the way he fills a suit. More than once, at home, I’ve jerked off and come thinking about him.

He’s in a dark suit, white shirt, a green tie with the knot loosened. He stands with his legs apart. One hand on his cock. The other on the marble. The stream comes out of him hard and steady, against the porcelain.

I take my cock out. I start to piss. It comes with some force. Out of the corner of my eye I see his hand: thick fingers, wide knuckles, a gold signet on the right hand.

He’s holding it in his whole hand, thick fingers closed around the middle of the shaft, aiming it into the urinal. Between his fingers it looks fat. The skin on the shaft is loose, warm, easy to slide. The foreskin is pulled back a little, wrinkled behind the head, just enough to leave the tip out. The head looks smoother, tighter, shiny with piss. A thick stream comes out of him, steady, and it lasts. Looking at it turns me on. My piss goes off to the side. My mouth waters. I swallow.

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