Cashier Gets Caught Jerking Off Behind Counter And Gather Around Because He’s Explaining Himself!
This dude could not be more guilty of jerking off if he shot a wad into that camera lens. Even more damning than actually watching him wax his kielbasa was his timid, lackluster defense.
“I wasn’t jerking off, I was adjusting my pants.”
No, no, bro. You were adjusting your penis skin up and down repeatedly to achieve orgasm. Your pants were just a spectator. And I know because I’ve been there. Not behind a convenient store counter like this degenerate, but I grew up with two meatstick brothers and my meatstick self (think Gronkowski bros without the talent). Catching each other whacking it was a sport, a science, a cheap thrill. The look of surprise/shame/helplessness/horror on the whacker’s face when caught red, er, white handed was simply top-shelf entertainment.
Many times I’d quietly leave the family room and head down to the basement laptop (that was so riddled with viruses, it moved slower than a Peyton Manning scramble) to crank one out. My brothers sniffed this out like DEA Police dogs searching Lindsay Lohan’s purse. When I heard the door swing open minutes later and my brothers rush downstairs, I quickly dragged my anaconda back into my pants (needed both hands) and shut the laptop screen. My brothers would walk in to see me sitting upright staring at the eggshell wallpaper in front of me, trying to avoid eye contact, maintaining my innocence.
And you know what I’d say every time in a whiny, sheepish “but mommm!” voice?
But I was. Every time.
Just like this dude.
But can you really blame the dude? You stick a man in a glass cage on a slow night at the Jiffy Mart and expect him not to queue up a Lisa Ann video? That’s just unrealistic. Frankly, I’d be more alarmed if he wasn’t stroking his meat popsicle. The crime wasn’t beating off in a public establishment, it was getting caught.
So let’s revisit the question from above. Were you whacking off buddy?
WRONG. DENY, DENY, DENY. “If you think that’s what jerking off is, I feel sorry for you.” Keep going with that, keep making it his problem.
Ring this dude up for his Skittles and stroke on big fella. Stroke on.