Everytime I visit Liverpool Street’s toilets, after work, the urinals are busy with guys stroking their cocks, looking for action. Today was no exception.
I visited my old haunt, Baker Street tube’s toilet, but it was dead – with a cleaner right in the middle of it, making sure it stayed that way. So I caught the circle line train to Liverpool Street, not knowing whether I could be bothered with the toilets. But trains were delayed and it seemed like fate was conspiring for me to visit those urinals again – I even paid less to go through the turnstiles because the guy ahead of me had used too much change (God’s way of saying I was doing the right thing.)
I chose a urinal between two silver suits – one short and with a round belly, the other a prototype of what I love: grey hair, big fat cock, really dirty looks and a nice way of teasing. I stroked my cock while he pushed, pulled and tagged his. Pre-cum dripped out of his head, which he spread around the head with his finger. He squeezed his balls together and pointed the cock towards me. I kept licking my lips and looking at him with my best yes-I-want-to-swallow-all-your-load. He finally squeezed his hard cock back into his trousers, picked up his umbrella and, as he walked towards the cabins, hit my legs so that it was perfectly clear I should follow.
I stood for a moment by the urinal, wondering what I should do. Tipsy and full of courage, I buttoned up my cords and followed. A cabin door slammed shut – and locked. I looked for him but found only a stranger waiting for a hungry cock, and many shut doors. Finally, I went into the cabin beside the one where I saw the door shut, but the guy inside was pissing. When I came out, two of the cleaners were pointing at the cabin directly opposite from me, sharing a joke because they knew what was going on inside. Could my grey knight have found another willing mouth? Tons of guys washed their hands and took turns with the dryers. Others arrived or stood by the urinals, waiting for playmates.
I left, missing out AGAIN on some slurpy action before bed.
Incidentally, I found out that the pub near Liverpool Station, where I saw that couple go into for a quickie (mentioned in a previous post), is called “Dirty Dicks”. Hmmmmmm…. Cops were leaving “Dirty Dicks” as I waited for my bus, so I’m sure there was action going on in their toilets. I must investigate the place one day.