Shitty Timing

Guys don’t wash their hands, I don’t care what you may hear them say. The only time we say we wash our hands is if there are girls present. The unspoken rule about guy code for washing our hands is; if we shit we wash our hands. There are only two exceptions to this rule; if we piss on our hands or if there’s another guy already washing their hands in the bathroom.

I spend most of my days on job sites and we don’t even have sinks to wash our hands. Instead we get an empty hand sanitizer dispenser. There’s not even a chance for any of us to wash our hands before we eat, let alone when we leave the bathroom. It doesn’t matter if we have dirt, piss, shit, we could never wash our hands if we wanted too.

There I was walking to one of the two porter johns we had on our job site to take one last piss before my drive home right. I was maybe twenty feet away from the Porter John, too far too see if it was occupied, but yet close enough to smell one of the shitters being over used, when someone kicked open the door the bathroom.

Normally I keep my head down, avoid all eye contact, and go straight for the urinal, but something compelled me to see who just came out. Turns out it was an old friend I haven’t seen since high school. At that moment of nostalgia impulse and emotions took over all logical thinking and physical actions.

Excited to see my ole pal I dapped him up and brought him in for a hug full of love. We stood there shooting the shit (no pun intended there) dapping each other up three or four times saying bye each time, but accidentally continuing conversation until we inevitably have our last goodbye and our twelfth handshake. It wasn’t until I the hand sanitizer dispenser to no prevail when I finished peeing that I realized what I had just done… I just touched his dick.

It was an in direct touch of course, nor intentional, but it’s impossible to get any closer to touching someones else’s lunchbox than that. He wasn’t even outside of the porter john long enough for the wind or oxygen to clear the scent of his Johnson. His hands were as dry and clammy as any unsantitized construction workers would be at the end of the work day and I had my paws all over his.

I wasted two bottles of water washing my hands in dirt just to diminish the germs from his pecker on my hand. There was no way I was going to touch one my tools or even my steering wheel with his member’s germs all over my hands. It’s why from now on I am going to become a hand washer. It’s not just for myself, but it’s for the greater good. I want to help stop the spread of male cuties.

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