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Oh The Joy!

The scent from the perfumed blocks in the urinals try to dispel the smell of urine. This is my favourite toilet block, set on the edge of a car park in the middle of a very quiet park. It is frequented by various members of the public, park visitors in general and the type of clientele I was hoping for today. Being the middle of the week gave a higher chance of people being around who wanted some fun and less chance of your normal park visitor. But the risk of a general park visitor entering the toilets added to the excitement of being caught. I start to daydream about the possible scenarios I hoped would unfold during the next few hours and memories of past encounters create an inner smile. Like the time I was put into bondage at the picnic area, the encounter with the couple who were walking their dog and being caught by the police.
My day dreaming was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. The gravel pathway to the toilets was advantageous in letting you know when somebody was approaching. Whoever it was entered the toilets, passed the door to my cubicle and entered the one on my left, their movement causing shadows which could be seen under the gap of the adjoining wall. The sound of the bolt locking the cubicle door seemed louder due to the stillness in the air. There seemed a pause which lasted for ever, but was probably only a few seconds. I waited for the tell-tale sound of a buckle being released and a zip fly being undone. No such sound came. Instead, the shadows under the gap became darker. A sure sign that whoever was in the cubicle was kneeling down to look under the gap.
Part of a face appears under the gap and a sound of ‘mmmmmm’ follows. A hand appears and reaches into my cubicle and starts to caress my nylon encased ankles. Then a few tugs of the padlocks on the buckles. “Oh wow!” a voice says. The hand disappears back under the wall and a sound of shuffling is followed by the sound of the adjoining cubicle door being unlocked. After what seemed like an eternity there is a knock on my cubicle door. A foot appears under the door, the nicely polished black brogues a sign that the wearer was someone with a touch of class. Clearly not your usual toilet block visitor.

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