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Where are your cleaning supplies - bleach, sponges, scrub brush...you know – for the bathroom?” And Adam dragged the arm of the record player across the vinyl. “Um, yea...wow. The supplies are in the laundry room – down the hall and to the right,” I explained with a scowl. “You have a diagnosis of OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, don’t you?” What the hell? My Zoloft isn’t in the guest bathroom. Where’s he getting his information? “Who are you, and where did that question come from?” “Answer my question first. OCD, right?” “Yes, but...” “Let’s just say that I have experience with the disorder. Allow me restore your all white bathroom back to its former state of spotlessness. So that when I return to you, there will be no distractions. Understand? Just relax and I’ll be back in a bit.” “Sure. But when you return, I’ll require that you expound on your knowledge of my personal business. I don’t know you, and you certainly don’t know me. Your revelation seems to be coming from thin air,. I got every drop. I looked up at him, opened my mouth, oozed his load over my tongue, and swallowed every drop. He handed me a paper towel, but I had nothing to clean up. He didn't, either. We thanked each other, and I left the room while he dressed.The booth across the hallway was cracked open, and I peeked in. There was a chubby guy hunched over an older, trim man in his 50s who was sitting on the bench, naked, and pumping his six inch cock furiously. I stepped in the room just as the guy shot onto the floor. As his chubby cocksucker stood up, I groped at his shorts, but he said he had to go.A few minutes later I found the chubby cocksucker again, cock in hand, in a booth showing a straight video. He nodded his head a bit, and I closed the door behind me. Again, I was quickly on my knees. He had a small cock, maybe four inches, and it was dripping pre-cum. I took it in my mouth for a few minutes, then he took off his shorts and sat down. I noticed he was another married man.He.
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Perhaps the world saw me grimace when I looked back down at the guard station console. The fuzzy-logic security system was flashing a blue-level warning. It had tagged me as (hostile, potential) which had activated the building's self-destruct sequence with a four-hour delay. The counter was now at 3:14:57 and counting down to a scheduled detonation at 2:15:00 PM.I took a moment to think. If I left now, there was about a 50% chance the automated security system would decide that with no one in the building, it could reset and not detonate. It all depended on how severely the Nikahaldi had tuned the aggression matrix on the pseudo-emotional fuzzy logic. I could leave now, and perhaps have another shot at this later.I started walking briskly to the elevators to ride them down to the second airlock. There was nothing that I had learned so far that would make any future attempt more likely to succeed than now. Indeed, the system's fuzzy-logic is adept at becoming alarmed at patterns it.

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