Here's a fun experiment you can try next time you're in your place of employment and find yourself needing to move your bowells.  It works best in office settings, where the restrooms have more than one stall, so you Walmart or Petsmart personnel might have to apply yourselves a little harder to get that desk job at corporate before you can even think of doing this.

Anyway, when you're in the restroom defecating, tap your foot under the adjacent stall.  Just a few taps, spritely cadenced, is all it takes. You'll be amazed at who you might attract, ready to do your bidding.

I tried this yesterday.  "Tap, TAP, Tap!  Tap."    That's all it took.  Suddenly, there was a knock on my stall door.  It was Gary from Accounts Payable.  For those of you who don't know Gary, he's a big, burley boy with a goatee and bulbous, red earlobes.  I'd never suspected that he was a homo.  Once I opened the stall door, he smiled and took a long look at my junk, still dangling in the bowl. 

"Blumpkin?" he asked in his typical accountant, matter-of-fact tone. 

Well, I'm staunchly hetero, but I had initiated this, and to back out now would violate company policy.  So I tried to make like I was willing but unable physically.  "Um, er, eh, I'm flaccid, and I've been that way for months.  My doctor says it's congenital."

"Well, you let nurse Gary cure that for you," he said, as he knelt down and took my schlong in his mouth.  I rolled my eyes, wondering how I was going to get out of this jam.  I tried to quicken the pace of my bowell movements, in the hopes that the fetid odors might waft from the toilet bowl and deter Gary from his frenetic efforts.  So as he sucked and spit all over my love-pump, I shit as hard as I could.  But it had no effect.  In fact, it only seemed to encourage him. 

Now I was really in for it.  I started to make up excuses.  "Uh, the integrated staff meeting is in a half hour, and I've really got to prepare for it!"  Gary mumbled something that was intelligible with my glans in the back of his throat.  Then I tried to talk turkey.  "Er, hey, Gary, what percent of our customers are past due 30?"  His eyes merely rolled in the back of his head as he slurped his way to fellatio Nirvana.

Nothing was working.  I wracked my brains.  How do you get a 6'2", 290 lb accountant off your cock?  That's when I decided to bring out the big guns.  I decided then and there to blow a huge load right down his throat, hoping that would finally end this bullshit.  It wasn't pleasant, guys, just in case you were thinking I was enjoying any of this.  After a few minutes hard concentration, I finally exploded.  "Happy now, bitch?" I asked.  Gary didn't miss a drop, but he did finally detatch.  He just sat back on the floor, his pants around his ankles, in a dizzy euphoria.

Just then, my supervisor, Eduardo, walked in.  "Oh, great," I thought to myself, "how am I going to explain this one?" 

"Where were you?  You were supposed to be in my office 10 minutes ago?" Eduardo asked.

"Oh, God, I forgot!" I said, springing up from my seat and rushing out of the restroom without wiping.  As I left, I noticed my supervisor giving the still unconcsious Gary a golden shower. 

Bathroom breaks certainly will be more problematic from now on.  But hey, it's the old adage: If you don't try, you'll never know.