Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Spanking Your Way to the Top!

(Disclaimer: This is gross. Those easily sickened should read no further!)

There has been a rumor circulating lately around the work floor that there is a pervert among us. Apparently, there is someone who is periodically masturbating on his breaks in the upstairs Men’s Bathroom. WTF? How gross is that?

Is this a common phenomenon that occurs in the bathrooms of Corporate America? Christ, that’s disgusting! Some of us are trying to SHIT and PISS in there, for fuck sakes!

It’s bad enough having a complex about catching some kind of rare strain of Ebola virus off any bathroom fixture or door handle that you happen to come in contact with, but NOW you also have to worry about contracting a whole other new host of infectious bodily nasties.

So, if I go to the bathroom I may run the risk of either being caught overhearing some faceless dude pound his pudding in the corner stall while I drain my lizard, or I may be unfortunate enough to sit down in a pool of spent load and consequently contract a bad case of crab lice. Oh goodie, that’s bound to make for an interesting workday! One thing for certain, is that I’m bound to become an authoritative expert on the subject of particular shoe styles for ALL my fellow male co-workers over the next few months since that’s all I’m first going to be scooping out under the stall walls the very second I enter any office place bathroom facility from now-fucking-on!

Who in their right mind would EVER want to flog their dolphin at WORK? What kind of depraved sexual deviant could ever manage to achieve wood anywhere within a square 5km radius of their place of employment, where they thanklessly slave for eight hours a day, five to seven days a week I can nary imagine!

So, what it is about the office bathroom that would even remotely inspire you to turn your crank, spank your monkey, five-knuckle-shuffle, or whatever the fuck all the cool perverts are calling it these days – I’m not getting it exactly! What is it that motivates these uber-freaks to such heights of such pure heated sexual fervor that they can’t resist the urge to go slap one out in the employees bathroom on their lunch break? I mean, can’t they contain their impulses long enough to get to the comforts and privacy of their own homes? What could it be?

Maybe it’s the sight of a shit-speckled toilet bowl that gets their man juices a-churnin’, or maybe it’s the dirty limericks carved into the back of the stall door with a blunt pair of nail clippers…or maybe it’s the allure of the extreme “forbidden” voyeuristic fetish of beating Mr. Chubbers in a bathroom stall that would make any Korean War M*A*S*H field hospital look like a sterile environment, while listening to the boss in the next stall over grunting and groaning uncomfortably as he works out his earlier breakfast of bran muffins and prune juice.

Mmmmmm, yeah baby! That’s sexy!

One more slight slip down the evolutionary ladder from here, and next they’ll be beating off in the public bathroom at the Monkey House at the Metropolitan Zoo.


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