A Day in the Life of a Public Urinal

I may not be as clean and wholesome as the gents in the Hilton or the Savoy, and my clients may not be so rich or well-dressed – but I guarantee that I see things that they never see, well, hardly ever, anyway. I certainly bet that more sperm is washed down my drains than in the Hilton gents, because although rich men undoubtedly wank just as much as, if not more than, the worse off, most of them seem to choose to do it in private and so if they do it in the gents, on the whole they jerk themselves off unseen to all in the cubicles. I’ve only got four stands but I can boast that for nearly half the time I’m open I can watch at least three erections being stroked at a time – and at busy periods not only are there four, but several others are waiting their turn, some bulging inside trousers, others sticking out of unbuttoned flies, dripping precum.

Take today for example: within three minutes of Maisie unlocking the door I have three visitors. One is a genuine pisser and seems genuinely embarrassed when the other two place themselves either side of him, stare down at his stream of piss and start rubbing their pricks. By the time he has emptied his bladder he finds himself flanked by two throbbing erections and is unable to remain completely indifferent. As he shakes the final drops of urine from his circumcised prick his neighbours notice an appreciable change in the size of the innocent member as well as in the expression of the face of its owner. 

The more vigorously they rub their own erections the more upright the newcomer’s stands. His right hand seems to be somewhat confused; to rub or not to rub? Oh, what a pity!! The willing spirit has got the better of the weak flesh and the now firm and damp erection is stuffed with some difficulty into the corduroy trousers and the frustrated man beats a hasty and somewhat guilty retreat with an obvious bulge in his trousers. The two regulars, old friends, have no intention of shedding their load yet. The day is still young and they intend to see a few more erections and perhaps wank a few of them before they leave.

Their lives, and the lives of many of the regular wankers has changed since Maisie has been in charge of the urinal. Her predecessor Sybil was a real puritan of a woman and had made lives very difficult for masturbators by her regular shouts of: “That’s enough, you dirty old men!” “Off you go, it’s time to clean up after you!” “This is a public urinal not a boys’ public school!” and the like, which were usually followed up by her appearance through the door of her little office, clutching a mop with which she threatened the four or more men present who were obliged to hastily push their erections into their trousers. Maisie, however, takes a special pleasure in watching the goings-on in the urinal, male masturbation being her particular fetish. She has had a two-way mirror fitted in the door supposedly to enable her to check that the urinal is being used solely for its designed purpose. In fact it enables her to see clearly what is going on and masturbate freely and unseen on her side of the mirror.

But I digress. Another two men have come down the steps and joined the regulars. One is an old man with a limp, the other a poorly dressed but physically fit man of around thirty-five. Both pretend to urinate, while the two regulars continue to stroke their semi-erections. The old man looks along the line at the other three pricks and tries to coax his large but flaccid prick to stand up. He is unsuccessful, but appears to be enjoying himself. The younger man’s prick stands up immediately and he starts to rub it vigorously. It is obvious why he has come. One of the regulars tries to take hold of the rock-hard erection but the young man resists his advances. He continues to rub, then his whole body starts to shake and a spurt of sperm dashes against my wall, followed by another. The masturbator shakes his prick, takes out a rather dirty handkerchief, wipes the final drips of cum off the end of his prick, which he tucks back into his trousers. He quickly zips up his flies and leaves. His place is taken by a well-dressed man in a beige raincoat. The other three relax their wanking, assuming the newcomer is a bona fide pisser. Of course they are wrong. He takes out his prick which is already in a semi-erect state and starts to wank, looking fixedly at the prick next to him. Herb, one of the regulars, puts his hand on the ‘respectable’ prick – the raincoated man returns the compliment.

“The wash-basin?” says Herb.
“Yes,” answers the raincoat.

The washbasin is situated just inside the door and supposedly out of view of the supervisor. In Sybil’s day it was, as Sybil did her spying through an invisible hole that only gave her a view of the urinals. Thus the washbasin was the perfect place for mutual masturbation and blow-jobs, the only witnesses being those entering the urinal. It is now still the recognized place, but now the forbidden act is performed, unknown to the perpetrators, in full view of Maisie. Now, Herb skillfully masturbates the raincoated man to orgasm while he tries to do the same for Herb. The sperm splashes into the wash-basin, but Herb’s prick remains in a semi-erect state. The satisfied visitor gives up, tucks away his still-dripping prick and beats a retreat.

For the next two hours the routine is much the same, though Herb and his mate Jim decide to retire. Neither has ejaculated, but both have masturbated three people and Herb has gone down on a young gypsy. They will be back later. Eleven o’clock heralds the start of ‘rush-hour’ when I have a steady flow of visitors, the four stands are permanently occupied and three or four are waiting their turn. The wash-basin receives a steady flow of sperm while the quartet at the stands is largely made up of semi-potent old men who get their kicks out of looking at other semi-erections. They take it in turns to vacate one stand in the hope that some potent wanker will ejaculate for them - and they are occasionally rewarded. Most of those waiting have their pricks out and Maisie has a field day and several orgasms. 
What’s this? A complete newcomer to my wanking palace! He is a workman of some kind - he’s wearing rather grubby blue overalls. There are only two others at the stands, and they are the two lucky ones. 

When the workman takes out his prick, neither they nor I can believe our eyes. It is huge! It almost reaches down to his knees. He has obviously been dying for a pee as he seems to have started pissing even before he frees his giant and the pee floods out for at least a minute. The pricks of the wankers either side of him stand up vertically and one of them ejaculates almost immediately. The workman obviously enjoys this and as soon as the final drips of piss leave his prick he starts to wave it about and play with it. It gradually stiffens and stands up, and although it is not much longer than it was when flaccid, it grows considerably thicker – it would be difficult to imagine a pussy wide enough to take it! The workman spits on his hand to lubricate his monster and gets down to some serious wanking. He obviously loves to be watched and turns towards each of his neighbours in turn. The one who has ejaculated already gets another erection and all three are wanking like mad. Another two man come down the stairs, having seen plenty of movement through the door. 

Herb and Jim seem to have a feeling for the right moment! They both release already erect pricks and join in the party. Unknown to them, Maisie is furiously rubbing her clit the other side of the mirror, with two fingers of the other hand pushed deep into her damp pussy. Suddenly the workman leaves the urinal stand and goes over to the mirror to watch himself wanking. Maisie cannot believe her luck. After a minute or so of furious rubbing he goes right up to the mirror and ejaculates all over it. Maisie lets out a little scream as she orgasms. This did not seem to worry the workman, who strolls over to the washbasin and calmly washes his softening prick. The other three men have also ejaculated, but into the urinal, having been sent running by Maisie’s scream. The workman turns towards them, waves his massive member at them by way of a farewell, tucks it into his overalls and leaves.

Herb and Jim are now not certain what to do. They have shed their load and so probably will not be able to get a hardon for some time. They decide to leave, as does the third man. This is the first time today I’ve been left alone. But not for long. It’s now the end of the working day and for me the start of the second rush hour. A couple of genuine pissers come and they in turn attract a few wankers who have been waiting at the top of the steps. The two pissers refuse to be tempted by the semi-erections being waved at them, but the two wankers who replace them are, and a brief session of mutual wanking ensues. Then a rather strange man, probably around seventy arrives. He, and another younger man who comes in just after him, appear genuinely to want to pee, but have to wait for one of the wankers to go over to the washbasin. They then stand in front of me and undo their fly buttons. The younger man starts to pee but the old man just thrusts his groin forward in a pissing position – without taking his prick out! He starts to pee and the piss streams down the inside of his trousers! He appears to be completely oblivious of his mistake! Eventually he buttons up his flies and leaves. Whether he is senile or a pee fetishist I shall never know. His behaviour has certainly turned on the younger man who is wanking himself like mad!

Now all the regular wankers are coming – it seems that after a frustrating day in the office or wherever the best way to relax is to toss off in public. Some genuinely want to pee, but there is always at least one wanker and remarkably few of the pissers fail to be turned on by the sight of a throbbing prick next to him. Not all of them wank, but most of them get hardons. The wash basin is the place for mutual wanking and sometimes there are four at once. Sperm flies everywhere and Maisie is having a field day. She leaves work at five, but I remain open until seven, when Jack comes to lock up. Between five and seven is the time for evening ‘dating’. Those who want to spend the evening with another man find a partner with no trouble at all between five and seven. Those with nowhere to go pair off in the cubicles – and there is continual mutual masturbation and fellatio by the washbasin. Of course, Jack knows exactly what he will find when he arrives and, although he is married and considers himself ‘normal’, is not totally unmoved by the sight that greets him. He has a very friendly relationship with the evening wankers and from time to time will join them. He is turned on by pissing and when in the mood is prepared to give a couple of quid to the first person willing to wet himself on the spot. There is usually someone in need of a bit of cash, so he is rarely disappointed – he openly wanks as he watches the piss soaking into the man’s trousers and running all over the floor. 

At ten past seven everyone has to leave and Jack washes me down with a hose, getting rid of every drop of the day’s piss and sperm. It’s the saddest moment of the day as I know I’m in for a lonely night during which I can only fantasize about all the wanking that’s going on in beds after lights out.

But tomorrow is another day….