Zen and the Art of Perving
Well the vote was overwhelmingly infavour of the perve story. As Del said I think we've found the level now. It just goes to show what a degenerate lot we all are. You for choosing it and me for writing it.
So heres the Tuesday story. It's true by the way.
Zen and the Art of Perving
Gary and I were on a trip round Europe Interailing, after travelling on trains for twenty four hours straight from Switzerland, we arrived in Belgrade. For a capital city Belgrade Central was not much to look at. Run down and dirty. Bladder bursting, I descended into the dark dank depths of the stations toilet. Standing at the free standing urinals, I let go. But something was not quite right. Yes I already knew I was standing tip toe in an inch of water. There was something else. I looked under the porcelein and noticed the down pipe was sawn off and was emptying straight onto the floor at my feet. As were all the others. I was standing in one inch of piss. A mop appeared between my legs. A little old women, dressed head to toe in black, was trying to mop the liquid from between my feet.
“Mop somewhere else.” I said. But she didn’t understand. I gesticulated with my free hand for her to get out of my way. But she was determined to mop for my pleasure and comfort. For Chrissakes the whole floor was under one inch of water. Mopping round my feet was going to make no difference at all except to push little waves of piss over my shoes and into my socks. I started hopping from one foot to the other, it couldn’t get any worse. could it?
It got worse, I looked to my left, and a man was in the corner was looking at me over his shoulder with a big grin on his face. He had a big round sweaty face and thin greasy black hair combed back over his head. His clothes were dark, grubby and loose. I noticed movement that wasn’t consistent with the usual two shakes and tuck away routine. It was more pronounced, more rhythmical, although adagio rather than allegretto. He swivelled his body away from the corner to reveal his manhood. Ever so slowly, and proudly he pulled at his hard on. The old lady continued to mop round my feet totally oblivious of the guy in the corner exercising his wrist. He looked at me again and raised his eyebrows. Then looked down at his swollen parts. For Chrissakes! How long does it take to empty your bladder? The man in the corner gave me yet another of his lascivious grins. By now he’d become vocal “Eh Eh. Eh.” He grunted. No time for any shakes, I splashed my way to freedom tucking away as I went. They were welcome to each other.
I got back to the platform “You wouldn’t believe what I just saw.”
“We must eat.” said Gary.
“Yeh but you’ll never guess what’s going on down there.”
“In the toilets.”
“There’s some guy down there.”
“Yes and there’s this little old woman in black mopping the floor.”
“That’ll be his Mother. She probably brings him along to work so she can keep an eye on him. Anyway I was wanting a piss, but I think it can wait now.”
We left the station, We’d already been arrested by the police once that day in Zagreb, and beaten up, we didn’t want anymore trouble, but that’s another story………