Caught With His Pants Down
fap fap fap.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he said trying to pull his pants up from around his ankles.
I covered my mouth, trying to muffle my laughter – this was too funny. I was walking the halls during third period, a free period, and passed the second floor boys’ water closet, hearing some strange noises coming from inside. Soft moans escaped from under the door as well as skin on skin flapping.
I was honestly expecting to find two people banging it up inside the stalls, fogging up the toilet’s mirrors. Instead, I find my best mate choking the chicken in the stall.
“So what were you doing, my friend?” His eyes shut as he tried to think of an answer. It’d probably be some stupid excuse, because it happens every time he’s been caught in this situation – which happens more often then you’d think. He'd been caught with his pants ‘round his ankles in my garage, Jim’s toilet, Harold’s basement, Claudia’s pool, and Karen’s backyard swing set. I think he just has his hand permanently attached to his penis.
“Trying to um… trying to find a contact,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Fell out when I…”
“You’re such a bloody lousy liar. Just admit it! You were having a wank in the loo,” I said between airless laughs.
His eyebrows crossed and his nostrils flared, the nervous smile quickly changing into a grimace. Shaking his head, he denied what I said, saying he’d never wank himself off in the loo.
“Yea, yea, just wait till Jim gets a load of this,” I told him as I tried to leave the men’s room – if someone came in, it would definitely be a “not what it looks like” moment, especially now that his trousers were back around his ankles.
“Don’t you dare tell him!” He wrapped his right hand – the one he was previously using for the toss off – around my wrist and pulled me back.
“Get that nasty thing off of me,” I said as I tried to unsuccessfully pull my wrist out of his grip, “it’s probably full of STDs.” As I pulled once again, he pulled back harder than previously and lost balance, taking me down with him. His willy was now poking my stomach and I shuddered at the thought of where it could have been. Did he even wash it regularly?
“Imma kill you,” I sneered, trying to pick myself off of him.
Just before I was able to get off of him, Jim walked in, stopping in his track as soon as he saw us.
“So have you two finally had a shag?” He waggled his eyebrows. “‘Bout time too, anymore time and I would’ve owed Karen fifty quid.”
I flicked Jim off, picking myself up and dusting myself off. “No, we were not having a shag, you tosser. This wanker was…” I made the jacking off sign and motioned to the loo.
“AGAIN?”
I covered my mouth, trying to muffle my laughter – this was too funny. I was walking the halls during third period, a free period, and passed the second floor boys’ water closet, hearing some strange noises coming from inside. Soft moans escaped from under the door as well as skin on skin flapping.
I was honestly expecting to find two people banging it up inside the stalls, fogging up the toilet’s mirrors. Instead, I find my best mate choking the chicken in the stall.
“So what were you doing, my friend?” His eyes shut as he tried to think of an answer. It’d probably be some stupid excuse, because it happens every time he’s been caught in this situation – which happens more often then you’d think. He'd been caught with his pants ‘round his ankles in my garage, Jim’s toilet, Harold’s basement, Claudia’s pool, and Karen’s backyard swing set. I think he just has his hand permanently attached to his penis.
“Trying to um… trying to find a contact,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Fell out when I…”
“You’re such a bloody lousy liar. Just admit it! You were having a wank in the loo,” I said between airless laughs.
His eyebrows crossed and his nostrils flared, the nervous smile quickly changing into a grimace. Shaking his head, he denied what I said, saying he’d never wank himself off in the loo.
“Yea, yea, just wait till Jim gets a load of this,” I told him as I tried to leave the men’s room – if someone came in, it would definitely be a “not what it looks like” moment, especially now that his trousers were back around his ankles.
“Don’t you dare tell him!” He wrapped his right hand – the one he was previously using for the toss off – around my wrist and pulled me back.
“Get that nasty thing off of me,” I said as I tried to unsuccessfully pull my wrist out of his grip, “it’s probably full of STDs.” As I pulled once again, he pulled back harder than previously and lost balance, taking me down with him. His willy was now poking my stomach and I shuddered at the thought of where it could have been. Did he even wash it regularly?
“Imma kill you,” I sneered, trying to pick myself off of him.
Just before I was able to get off of him, Jim walked in, stopping in his track as soon as he saw us.
“So have you two finally had a shag?” He waggled his eyebrows. “‘Bout time too, anymore time and I would’ve owed Karen fifty quid.”
I flicked Jim off, picking myself up and dusting myself off. “No, we were not having a shag, you tosser. This wanker was…” I made the jacking off sign and motioned to the loo.
“AGAIN?”
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this came out terrible. I don't even know.