I was giving one of the urinals a refill in the bathroom of my local Club Chlamydia when to my surprise none other than Mr. KEVIN SPACEY walked in. He sauntered past all the available urinals (including the piss trough in the middle of the room!!) so that he could occupy the one right next to mine. Well, naturally, I felt honored. I had just turned 18 a few minutes beforehand, and this was the most love I'd seen in an older man's eyes since my ASL teacher taught me how to sign the letters H-I-V within the depths of my pleasure chest. I got a bit nervous and paused the stream while I stammered out that I loved his work in "High Fidelity" and "Serendipity." He looked vaguely hurt, so my nurturing instincts kicked in (I am a Cancer after all! LOL!!) and I asked if he was feeling alright. His face lit up again and he edged closer to me, whispering seductively, "I'm okay, I just haven't had a drink all night."
Well, what happened next left me swooning more than I was after my Bible School teacher taught me for the first time why they called it Palm Sunday! He shoved me aside, got on his hands and knees, and scarfed about five bladders worth of fresh mineral water out of the tinkle trench like an Ethiopian at the Golden Corral chocolate fountain! When he was finished, he stood back up, turned to me, and serenaded me with, "All that piss from all those men, and I bet none of it would be as sweet as a few drops of yours."
Well, I won't lie, I did shed a tear at such a passionate profession... My ears had been deprived of such sweet nothings ever since I lost my uncle in a freak auto accident (autoerotic asphyxiation). Sometimes I still had dreams about that sweet man waking up me and my brown grotto for an early morning stir, and this was a chance to make that dream a reality again, if only for one night. I spotted poppers and hypodermic needles scattered across the bathroom floor like rose petals, I smelled the urine on an older man's breath, and I heard the nostalgic sounds of leather queens whipping each other to the beat of It's Raining Men, so I could easily pretend I was back home. Besides, after his lovely words, how could I say no to the sweet gentlemen?
As soon as I plopped my plumbing into his mouth, I would have sworn his esophagus was a catheter, because I instantly began to release. Then, once he started to realize the well was running dry, he slid his middle finger into my compost compartment and started making prostate pudding. ECSTASY!!! After that, I obviously had to thank him, so I splashed some water-based lube from the golden gully onto my pecker and told the old slut to bend over.
As if I couldn't BE any more turned on, the seasoned actor stripped naked, and his colon hit the floor before he did. The second I lifted it up off the floor, the inner beast awakened, gurgled in excitement, and swallowed my length down like a giant suction hose discovering downtown Detroit! By the time he showed me the trick where he extended his worn-out sphincter out of the bathroom and let me fuck him from the corner of the hall, I was ready to explode again. I let him find his way back to me like a 90's corded home phone, and before you knew it, our kids were taking tours of each other's chocolate factories.
By the time the two of us stumbled out of the bathroom, we both smelled like sweat, jizz, and the final days of Jean Harlow. In spite of his slapping me when I told him I wasn't underage, I still consider it one of the finest nights of my life... so far! ;) LOL!!
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