Last night, after getting out of work at 4:00am, I went to brush my teeth. I exited my bedroom, walked down the hall, and entered the bathroom. It’s a small half-bath – the kind where all the fixtures are small – small toilet, sink about waist high, tiny mirror.

As I put toothpaste on my toothbrush, I realized I had to take a piss. So, the toothbrush went into my mouth, and I took one step to the toilet. Biting down on my toothbrush enabled me to use both hands to pull my penis out and begin the urination process – as any man knows, this is always step one. Upon commencement of said stream, I redirected my right hand to the brushing process.

Brush, brush, brush.

Brush, brush, brush.

I was tired and half asleep, and I didn’t notice the longer-than-normal stream. Due to this extended time lapse, the froth in my mouth had risen to “need-to-spit” proportions. I figured that I could contain the large amount of paste in my mouth. “It will only be a few more seconds,” I said to myself. So, I continued brushing and pissing.

Normally I would have just spit the excess paste-foam into the toilet, but I knew that if I did this, I wouldn’t be able to continue brushing – once back at the sink – with a depleted reservoir of foam. Like I said, I thought my mouth could contain the paste levels for a few more seconds.

I looked down at my penis, and as I was asking it, “Damn, how much longer do you need to piss?” a large stream of toothpaste exited my mouth and landed directly on the shaft of my penis.

“Well, that’s a first,” I said to myself. Looking down at, what could only be described as, my now plaque-free penis, I decided that my next move would be to rinse it off in the sink.

“Wiping it down may leave residue,” I said to myself, “Plus, can’t toothpaste kill you if ingested? Certainly, it can’t be very good for your penis.”

So, finally done pissing, with shorts around my ankles and toothbrush in my mouth, I stepped back to the sink.

I stared at the sink for a couple of seconds. Figuring out the logistics of how this operation was going to unfold.

I settled on: Flop in, rinse off, dry.

It was important, in my mind, that I handle this penis situation before finishing to brush my teeth. “Prioritize,” I said to myself.

So, I flopped in.

The cool, somewhat mildew-y porcelain was an interesting sensation on the ventral side of my penis. As I reached my cupped hand towards the water, biting down on my toothbrush, I heard a noise.

A very distinct noise.

One that only happens when entering in and out of rooms, rooms with doors, doors with knobs, knobs that turn.

My roommate opened the door.

There I stood, hand reaching towards water, toothbrush in mouth, and my cock in the sink.

I just stared at her, and, bless her little heart, she just stared right back.

She walked back to her bedroom, I guess, forgetting that she needed to use the bathroom in the first place.

This morning was strange. She asked me how long I had been cock-sinking

I told her that there was an explanation.

Shaking her head she said, “No, there is no explanation.”

 

 

Lack of Tact Follow on Twitter @Lackoftact