First things first. He pisses between your legs, splattering you a bit before helpfully cleaning you

Thick meaty hands pull a just as thick and meaty cock, one that's half-hard thanks to your display. He points it toward the toilet, upon which you're draped, and you realize what he intends.

You just barely have time to pull your legs apart, but not enough to sit up. This leaves him a small gap through which he can reach the toilet, and he takes advantage of it.

As you hold legs wide apart a rushing torrent of urine exits his dick, splashing across your cunt and thighs as he adjusts his aim.

"Sorry," he mutters, not sounding sorry at all. He pees for what seems like ages, little droplets spattering your inner thighs. Your own bladder aches, tormented by the sight of someone else relieving themself.

Finally the stream dwindles, and he clenches his steps forward to keep from splattering the floor. As he finally falters he clenches his muscles, sending a few last strong surges across your thighs, pussy, and lower stomach.

"Sorry," he says again, reaching for the toilet paper. "Let me help clean up."

"N-no, that's okay..." you tell him, but he grabs a wad of toilet paper as big as his fat hands, dragging the rough paper across your skin, cleaning the wet piss from your stomach and thighs. He lowers his hands between your legs, and you think he's going to drop the big wad into the toilet. Instead he jams it against your already packed cunt and forces it in.

"Hey!" you protest, trying to push him away without falling to the floor.

"There," he says, giving your overloaded pussy a few hard slaps, knocking the embedded q-tip a little deeper. "All clean. And all yours now," he says, turning to walk out of the open cubicle like nothing unusual had happened. You hear the door open and close. A ridiculous thought crosses your mind that he didn't even wash his hands.