Caught with my pants down
I have no problem with nudity in general. I find showering naked after swimming to be quite a normal thing. I wander round the house naked on occasion, when it's warm enough. But as a rule, I don't expose myself in public, or in inappropriate situations. Rules are made to be broken though.

I have good friends in midwest USA whom I visit at least once a year. Last year, we all went out to an Italian restaurant for an evening. The meal was excellent, but halfway through my sweet course, I felt a disturbance in my alimentary canal which conveyed to me a certain urgency.

I had a sudden and very painful stomach cramp. Not a 'wait until I'm home and then have a relaxing read of the paper while allowing peristalsis to occur' kind of feeling, more the 'run to the bog right now and allow explosive decompression to occur or else I'll die in thirty seconds' type.

So I quickly excused myself, asked a passing waiter to direct me to the men's room, and entered the sanctuary.

Only to find myself in a bizarrely over-furnished room, with comfy chairs, fake potplants, bric a brac ornaments strewn everywhere and no obvious place to safely release the gargantuan pressure in my innards. I could see a very ornate, floor-standing porcelain urinal but no toilet. Then my eyes locked onto a wall at the end of the room.

A wall which extended part way over the width of the 1936 Ideal Homes exhibition which I appeared to have landed in. Behind it - aha, I saw my porcelain saviour.

So I pulled down my kecks, and I swear my arse hadn't hit the seat before the main feature was all over. I sat for a minute to recover, then stood up to wipe the virtually liquid residue from my quivering towel holder.

Just at that moment, a boy of about 10 came in to the room, and proceeded rather quickly towards me, despite my throat-clearing attempts to let him know I was there. Remember that wall which extended part way over the room? It extended just far enough to hide me. Until of course the lad appeared round the end of it, to be confronted by me, trousers around ankles, slightly bent over with toilet paper in hand, and cock and balls hanging unfettered.

He left quickly with a look of shock on his face*. I really hope I've not scarred him for life. But if I ever hear of a schoolboy going apeshit with a gun in a public toilet in Indiana, I'll have my suspicions as to who it might be.

*Of course, this may have been the result of the stink I'd created rather than the sight of my cock.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 29 May 2009, 16:44, Reply)