The Village Toilets

I've lived in a village all my life and I really enjoy the slow pace of life. It's a thriving little village with two pubs, a shop, tearoom and a village hall. The village hall has a large free car park, at the back of the car park is the toilets. They are open from 8am in the morning until 11:30 in the evening. I know this because it's my job to keep them clean. 

My dad is a parish councillor, he encouraged me to volunteer with the parish working group from a young age. When I was a lad I helped with litter picking, painting etc. Of course cleaning the toilets is the least favourite job for a lot of the parish volunteers but I love it.

I've always been an early riser so I'm usually up at 5:30am and go over to open up and clean the toilets every morning before heading off to work.

I think the toilets were built in the 80's. They are fully tiled with a stainless steel trough and one cubicle. It's very rare you get anything written on the back of the cubicle door but recently someone had been writing stories on there. I love reading the stories but it's my job to clean them off as soon as they appear. If one of the other councillors were to see the stories I get into big trouble.

I keep the toilets really clean but we're not allowed to use bleach anymore so there's always that lingering smell of stale piss. To be honest I love the smell, as soon as open up in the morning and walk in I get an instant hard-on.

I know exactly when my interest in piss was first kindled, it was just after my 21st birthday. I was always a bit of a wussy, I didn't smoke or drink and my mates would always take the piss out of me.

One evening I was up at the recreation ground when a few of my so called mates called me over. They were drinking cans of lager, they handed me a big bumper can full of beer. They insisted I have a drink out of it.

 I wanted to fit in so I took the beer off them. I thought it was a bit strange that the can was warm but I had a good swig out of it. I wasn't used to the taste of beer so I had another swig and then another until it had all gone.

By now my mates were laughing their heads off. It was Glen that announced what they had done.

" We've all pissed in that can and rubbed our knobs around the top and you drank the lot"

To be honest I loved the taste, there must of been some beer in there as it did taste alcoholic. The thought of them all pissing in the can gave me an instant hard-on. Needless to say I've never lived the incident down.

Back to the present day...

Each morning I head over to the toilets before my breakfast, even before I have a piss. I love pissing in those toilets, sometimes I stand so close to the trough the piss splashes back on my trousers and hands. 

I'm usually so fucking hard I have to stand about 3 foot from the trough. I love that first morning piss it's dark and smells really strong. If I'm feeling really horny I lock myself in the cubicle afterwards and have a wank. I cum up the wall or on the door and lick it off. I guess you're thinking I'm a sleazy perv, well you'd be right.

After that I get to work cleaning the place up ready for the first visitors. The car park starts filling up from about 9am. It's popular with pensioners who walk in the local countryside. You do get the occasional rep pop in for a piss on the way to or from work or at lunchtimes. I think it's probably a rep writing the stories on the walls.

Recently I was up really early and went over to open up the toilets. I was bursting for a piss, my cock was rock hard I had to almost stand against the back wall to piss in the trough.

Suddenly I hear a voice.

"That's impressive son, I wish I still had a strong stream"

I turn around forgetting to walk forward as I finish pissing.

It's Fred the church warden.

"Gee Fred, you startled me. What are you doing here?" I ask.

Fred taps his finger against his nose.

"Wouldn't you like to know", he chuckles.

He looks down at my cock which is dripping piss onto the floor.

"Hadn't you better put that thing away, before you flood the place".

I zip myself up blushing.

"Don't you just love these places, that dank smell of stale piss, the writings on the walls", he asks.

I listen but don't utter a word.

"Of course back in my day there were cottages everywhere, men like us could easily indulge in our sleazy perversions".

Fred looks at me expecting a reply but to be honest I'm dumbfounded.

"You love the smell too don't you boy, I can tell you enjoy your job. You're very efficient when it comes to removing the stories off the walls. Not before reading them though and wanking off, hey?"

I look at Fred not really sure what to say or what to admit to, but I can see a pen in his pocket and I wonder if he's the one writing the stories.

Fred nods his head towards the trough.

"Kneel down in all that piss like a good lad"

I look down hesitantly at the trough and the piss soaked tiles.

"Go on boy, kneel down, you know you want to"

I do as I'm told and kneel down holding onto the rim of the trough. The floor is cold and wet with piss and I can feel it soaking into my trousers.  I watch Fred get his cock out, it's limp but quite fat.

"I may not be able to get hard these days but I love piss play", he smiles.

Fred waggles his cock and starts pissing, his stream is nowhere near as strong as mine so I crawl closer towards him.

"Good boy, I can see you're eager"

I expect you are thinking I've done this before but honestly this is the first time since that incident in the park.

Fred pisses all over my trousers and my t-shirt. I love the brief warmth followed by the cold wetness as his piss soaks into my clothes..

"Open wide, sweet boy".

I open my mouth and Fred pisses down my throat. I gulp his piss down almost choking the taste is that intense. I feel my cock explode into my briefs as I cum without even touching it. He stands astride me as the last drops dribble from his cock and I take his cock into my mouth.

Fred steps away.

"It's no good boy I can't get hard anymore else I'd be fucking your cute little ass"

Fred grabs the back of my neck and pulls me towards him, his lips engulf mine as he forces his tongue down my throat for a French kiss.

"You taste good boy, this is our secret right boy"

I get the impression that he wasn't asking me but telling me.

"Sure Fred, I'm not going to tell anyone", I reply nervously.

Fred zips himself up and walks out. I'm absolutely soaked in piss and it dawns on me I somehow have to get home.

Luckily it's the middle of June the sun is up and it's already quite warm. I go for a walk around the fields for an hour until my clothes are reasonably dry. They're still damp and there is a hint of piss but fresh piss doesn't smell that strong anyway. At least that's what I tell myself.

Back home I strip off outside the back door, leaving my trainers to dry in the sunshine. I tiptoe into the kitchen and put all my clothes into the washing machine. I just manage to get into my bedroom before my parents get up.

Later at work I can still smell piss.

Is the smell stuck up my nose or is it on my breath. Either way I buy some mints at breaktime. 

Back at home my trainers are dry but the left foot still stinks of piss. I hide them in the coal bunker until I can sort them out.

Later that evening I'm still thinking about piss and how exciting it would be to piss myself fully clothed. I need to work out a plan how I can do it and get back in the house without anyone knowing. That's something that will have to wait until another time.