Today we have a splendid story from a lively gentleman from our group, I hope you like it. It's a bit of a long one but worth it.
One Sunday night, I was sitting at home and decided to watch some "educational movies". You know the kind, where they show you the man and the woman (or men and women) portraying the "birds and the bees" and what happens.
Now, I was particularly horny that night, as I had consumed a little blue tablet earlier that afternoon - the kind that makes a guy feel all sort of nice things downstairs in the trouser department.
The reason for this was that the following day was Monday, the start of a very long working week and I felt a bit down at the thought of it all. On top of all that, I was feeling very "backed up" as I hadn't shot a load in over 4 days and my sac was weighing like a pair of billiard balls.
So, as I was watching said movie, I started to become very aroused, and before long, was mimicking what the guy on the screen was doing basically watching his wife being screwed by another guy while furiously tossing himself off. There weren't two others in the room with me, obviously, just me and the movie.
Although I do have to say, I could only dream of what I had in my hand being the size of the guy's on the screen, I was especially in awe of the huge swinging orbs that were underneath his handful.
Any how, I digress. As the documentary progressed, the woman was being plowed with the husband watching on, frantically beating his rod.
I like to try and time my moment of release with any guys that may be on screen - the Money Shot, and this time was no different.
Due to the load being 4 days worth and with the aid of the tablet, my jizz went everywhere - in my hair, in my eyes in my mouth - I was literally drenched.
So, movie bookmarked (I always like to know what gave me my last money shot), I miserably dripped upstairs to bed, back to thinking about the loooooong week ahead.
Next morning, I awoke with the usual morning wood, but as I had told Alexa to snooze three times already, I knew there was no time to have a leisurely ham shank before work. So showered, dressed and out the door I went.
Work was very long and boring as most Mondays are, but this one seemed even longer.
I found myself drifting off into a daydream on a Teams call at one point and at the end of the call realised I had the most enormous and quite painful boner.
Having experienced this before, I knew it was the after effect of my gargantuan wank the day before, and that there was still at the very least, another load left in my nut-sack.
I decided to go to the toilet to "release", knowing that it was a good 10 minutes before the cleaner did her rounds - she was like clockwork, you could set your watch by her.
Happy in the knowledge that 10 minutes was more than enough for a quickie, I proceeded to the Gents.
I chose the urinals as opposed to a cubicle for my offload for some strange reason - no idea why.
You need to know this for later - there are six urinals on one side of the room and four cubicles opposite.
I chose the urinal at the end, furthest from the door, the safest if anyone were to walk in.
Conscious that I had limited time and also the fact that I was alone, I began the task at hand, or "in hand" as it were.
The mission was simple and I was already prepared - two minute jobby maximum, clean up and go. That should give me at least five full minutes before the cleaner was due.
The exercise was quick and as the geezer erupted, it went everywhere, as with night before, but this time up the urinal, up the tiled walls, everywhere.
As the urinal was self flushing, there was no need to get rid from there - as soon as the load hit the porcelain, it was flushed away. All I needed to do was grab some paper from the cubicles and wipe the evidence from the walls and floor.
So deflating member in hand, I went to the cubicle directly behind me - no paper.
Cubicle two was the same, cubicle three not enough. My last hope was cubicle four - nearest to the door, but furthest from the urinal.
Perfect - more than enough.
Just as I had pulled sufficient sheets from the dispenser, I heard the all too familiar clank of wheels on a tiled floor. The cleaner was early and just about to walk in.
Panic stricken, I froze for a second, then darted into the cubicle, locking the door behind me, just in time.
But what about my jizz, cascading down the wall like a gloopy snail trail?
All I could hope for was a casual exit, once I had pulled myself together. After all, it's not as if I would be exposing myself to the old girl if she noticed me.
I quietly opened the door, to see her shuffling down to the furthest urinal - my off load urinal.
As she had here back to me she was completely unaware that I was behind her and exclaimed "Holy Mother of God, what the Fcuk?" she was an old Irish girl, as you can probably guess by her exclamation.
"What the fcuk have we here, all over the walls?"
As I backed my way towards the door, knowing I was now safe, I exited through the first door to hear the words I will never forget. You need to imagine this in a broad Irish accent.
"It certainly looks like it, feels like it and smells like it. Ah well, waste not want not - Ya Doorty Bastard".
To this very day, I have not been able to look that poor woman in the face, or use the end urinal.
