Blake Hart
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Festival Dicks – Part 1
🕑 Added 2025-07-08 20:00:06 +0000 UTCHey everyone,
I hope you're all doing well and having a good summer, whether you're on vacation, already had one, or just keeping the wheels spinning through the season.
Anyway, I had an amazing time at a big music festival this weekend. And as some of you might have picked up on, I do have a thing for straight guys. Let me be honest: while they can and do flip for the evening sometimes, it’s not usually as easy as it is in one of my stories. But there's just something about the heat, the close quarters, and definitely the alcohol that makes a lot of guys, straight ones included, a little more open and willing to experiment.
And this weekend? That was one of those times. So, I’ve got a treat for you: a completely real story, fresh from just a few days ago.
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Everyone in this story is 18+
It all started when me and a couple of girl friends decided to go to a city about an hour away from us for the weekend. Even though it's close by, I’ve never really been to this festival before.
On the first day, Friday, the weather was honestly so-so. Intermittent rain drizzles, but it was humid and pretty warm. People were definitely keeping clothing to a minimum because of the heat, but the vibe was impeccable, and a major international DJ most of you have probably heard of was playing later that evening.
Me and my friends were going all in. We had matching outfits: black glitter tank tops and daisy dukes. We also had glitter on our globes, but the thing that set us apart the most was our custom-made ‘#HoLife’ t-shirts. It’s just become a running gag in our friend group. None of us are all that slutty (ok, some are), it’s more just a fun, don’t-take-life-so-seriously, yolo-adjacent thing.
With almost all the guys in white khaki shorts and white shirts, I definitely stood out. You didn’t exactly need to be a detective to see I was gay as fuck. I didn’t have my pride flag stamped on my cheeks this time, but it was obvious, to say the least.
Me and my friends usually arrive together, have some drinks, hang out for a bit, then split off on our own for a while. Later we circle back, sometimes with some guy, or even a cool girl we vibed with, and just end up chilling in a bigger crowd together.
When I went off alone for a bit to see if I’d run into someone familiar or interesting, I was kinda bummed. It was mostly just rowdy “bro’s bros” with zero muscle control, going nuts in big groups. I mean, get them one-on-one at an afterparty, away from their packs, and you might easily flip them with something like, “I love giving BJ’s,” which usually gets their attention. Or they hit you with, “So, how is it being gay?” and ten minutes later you’ve got his straight meat shoved down your throat while you show him.
But I digress. Like I said, I went solo, bought myself a drink, gulped it down, didn’t really find anyone. After the drink, I had to pee like crazy, so I headed to the massive and utterly disgusting port-a-potta area. Port-a-pottas and urinals as far as the eye could see. And let me tell you, I don’t do urinals. Horrible pee anxiety. I can’t get a single drop out in one. So I’m standing in line for a toilet that smells like hell, but at least you can shut the door behind you.
While standing in line, fiddling with my silver necklace, I had one of those moments, you know, when you meet someone’s eyes and both of you are like, hello there, without saying a word. He was standing at a urinal, facing toward me at just the right angle for me to see his front. He could’ve pushed his pelvis forward and hidden everything behind those little side walls, but no. He smirked and stood far enough back so I could see. He unzipped, just eye-fucking me while he fished out a decently large, good-looking cock. The skin was a bit paler than the rest of him, standing out against his tan stomach, which peeked through when the wind caught his shirt. My jaw literally dropped.
Then, boom. The door flies open and some drunk guy stumbles out of the port-a-potty I was in line for, full-on faceplanting right in front of me. Laughing his ass off. Shorts around his ankles. His pale, pinkish, hairy ass on full display.
I’m like,
“Are you fine?”
He just kept laughing, and a couple of his buddies came over to help, doing a pretty awful job of it. He wasn’t my type at all, and his dick was small and shriveled, which I caught a glimpse of as they tried and failed to get his shorts back on. Not impressed, I finally got into the port-a-potty to relieve myself. As I went in, I glanced back toward the urinals, but the guy was gone.
Great. Just my luck, I figured, and went on with my business.
Afterward, I went to wash my hands at the sinks lined up near the entrance to the toilet area. I was about to head back to my friends, so I just picked the first open sink. While I was washing up, the girl next to me finished and someone else stepped into her spot. It took a couple seconds to register, but yeah, it was him.
Urinal guy.
And I’m not gonna lie, I do like getting pursued, so I didn’t say anything or make a move. We both washed our hands, but let’s just say the air almost crackled between us. There weren’t any tissues or dryers or anything, so I stood there flapping my hands around like a weirdo to dry them. But everyone else was doing the same, so it didn’t feel that weird.
As I did, we locked eyes again. His aquamarine eyes were striking, almost the exact same color as the sea behind him.
Then he spoke, his voice deeper than I expected.
“I like the glitter.”
He flapped his hands around like I had, then pointed at the glitter on my temples.
“But I like the tank top even better. That’s bold.”
I just laughed out a “thanks,” not really having a clever line to follow.
He nodded, then went for the classic,
“You got a lighter?”
“No, just a vape,” I said, pulling it from my pocket like it was a prize.
“What flavor?” he smirked.
“Mint.”
“Nice. I love mint.”
“Want a hit?”
“Thanks.”
He took a deep drag and exhaled through his nose, looking like some sexy dragon. If dragons were actually hot, that is.
Then we started walking back toward the festival area. His sun-bleached hair hung straight down over his face like a curtain, catching the light from the sun finally making an appearance. I usually hate that hairstyle, but he pulled it off.
And I don’t know how to explain it, but again the tension between us was just soaked in sex. He kept bumping into me gently with his strong forearm as we made small talk on our way back to the crowd.
We were almost back in the thick of it when he looked at me with that handsome grin and said,
“Wanna do something hoe-ish? I know a place.”
I actually gulped. My dick jolted, already half-hard the whole way, and just like that, the decision was made.
I smirked.
“Lead the way and let me show you.”
