1 an old white urinal a boy named simon Part 2
Part 2
My favorite story that I wrote on here was [ A pretty black girl in a bar ] but wouldn’t you know it, good old simon beat the shit out of it with his infamous 1/10 rating as often as he could and probably still is and people really didn’t get to read it. What a shame. Of course maybe nobody but me would have liked it anyway, so you really didn’t miss much, did you? Another favorite I wrote was ” A bus stop ” but there again simon did it in. I really liked writing, ” 1 Spanking Aunt ” I don’t know why because I’m really not into spankings, believe me. And speaking of simon, I didn’t start rating his stories until almost a full 2 months after he started rating mine down and I kept trying to tell him that but like the one that’s calling himself [ C=R=A=P ] now, he didn’t listen. I won’t play anymore childish games on here because that’s not what this website is all about or is it? I’ve never and still don’t claim to be a writer. I just write dirty little fuck stories, like we used to pass around in our wallets, years ago. To those of you that have not left any shitty comments on my stories, once again I say thank you. And to those that have already and will keep leaving them, [ ” Enjoy the story and don’t forget to substitute YOUR NAME, every time that it says SIMON “]. When I went into the bathroom in a cafe down in the sleazy part of Dallas, I had no idea what was about to happen. I was standing there peeing at one of the urinals, when the bathroom door opened and I looked back over my shoulder and relaxed when I saw that it was just a little old man coming in, a little old white man. I had looked over my shoulder because I was black, a 13 year old black boy and I wasn’t in the black part of town, so I had to be careful. He stepped up to the urinal next to me, calmly slid his zipper down, reached in, pulled his old wrinkled dick out and started pulling on it and talking to it, like it was his friend. I had the weirdest feeling as I looked over and watched, waiting to see the pale yellow pee start flowing and finally it did. Spurting at first but then slowly building and building into a split stream, not pale like I had expected but like the golden color of honey. I watched as the old man moved the stream around in the urinal, like he was painting a picture of a face or something with it. Working the honey colored stream closer and closer to the mouth on it and it wasn’t an accident that the mouth on it turned out to be the little drain hole, the little drain hole at the bottom. I don’t know how long I had been standing there watching him pee, when all at once he stopped the flow and I looked up and saw that he had caught me. I can’t even describe how I felt as my face starting to get all hot and knew that I was blushing and wanted to run. The next thing I knew he was whispering, ” Wanna see me pee somemore boy, what’s your name?”