Like I’ve mentioned before, it’s my theory that an underground strike in London always makes for good toilet cruising – the police are busy elsewhere and can’t be bothered with guys hanging about special places.
Yesterday, I put this into practice by visiting Baker Street’s Toilets after work, around 6pm. To my surprise, it was dead quiet. It looks like the days of guys taking up all the space, and even standing by the walls, are gone. (Probably because of that police crack down some years back.) Saw one Indian boy leave just as I arrived, an older man hanging by the sinks and the urinals empty. After a few minutes a guy joined me – posh looking, brown hair swept back from a nice face, brown checkered suit. I couldn’t stay behind and investigate because I had a night course to attend.
This morning, my train dropped me off at Marble Arch and I crossed Hyde Park. I saw a guy quickly walk into the toilets by the park’s east side; I followed him in and he gave me “that” look when I picked the urinal beside him. He was taller than me, young and with some designer stubble. After a few moments we were stroking our cocks but, when he saw the size of mine, he gave me a bitchy laugh, pulled his cock back inside his trousers and left. Ouch my ego!
When he laughed, I saw how bad his teeth were; and when he walked away, I saw how big and jelly-like his butt was. Ha!
It was a lovely morning to cross Hyde Park. After that encounter, I didn’t have the guts to visit the next toilets on my way to work.
Yes, I do have a small cock – about 5.5 inches, good width – but it looks much smaller in toilets when it’s cold in the morning and I’m feeling nervous – my breath caught in my throat, my body shaking, my mouth dry. It is what excitement and the fear of getting caught does to my poor lil’ fella.