so i spent the weekend helping the architect move, 'cause i'm a sweet raspberry and, if you ask me to, i'll do such things for you. heck even if you *don't* ask i'll usually do them, 'cause that's how i roll.so anyway, on friday i quietly (or not so quietly 'cause i'm not the most mousey of characters) i worked my way through a bottle of wine and packed his kitchen for him, whilst clad in a tshirt and a thong. how many men get to say that? prolly not too many out there. saturday we moved his crapola, and sunday was a day of rest amen.
now, as is the case when anyone moves, once he was in he realized there was a bunch of crap he needed - hardware stuff. so after dinner on sunday, we pottered off to home depot to pick up a few things. now it must have been four, maybe five hours since we'd had sex so i was clearly all worked up and ready to go again. what to do, seeing as how we are in a hardware store? why handicapped bathroom, of course.
the architect is not as .. er .. well versed in displays of semi-public lewdness as i am. (i'm not sure if that's a sad statement of his past, or mine, but that's a topic for another day.) so anyway, we're in, door's locked, and i've got him pushed up against the wall, cock in my mouth. he's lovingit, naturally. then, over the loudspeaker, comes this booming heavily accented highly pitched female voice. i guess home depot closes at 8pm on sundays. who knew?
well, no worries - it's just a quickie anyway. i soldier on.
well, that is, until linda richman decides to park herself outside the bathroom door and complain bitterly about ... to be honest with you i have no fucking idea 'cause i couldn't actually hear *what* she was saying over the shrieking. i mean, buttah, her voice was. ahem. in my head i'm praying 'just shut up - only ten minutes - just shut up'. the architect, however, lost his focus. poor fellow. he may never again be able to look at another handicapped washroom without doubting his manhood.
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