A Pornography Spec Script Based on Characters from Cheers, 1

I’m shopping this around to all the hottest publishers.  Please do not reprint without my explicit permission – HS

It was a sultry Boston night.

Norm trudged in to Cheers.

“Evenin’, everybody,” he said.

“NORM!” Everyone else shouted, as was their custom.

“How you feelin’ tonight, Mr. Peterson?”  Woody asked.

“I feel like draining something besides a keg tonight, Wood Man,” Norm replied with a sense of desperate urgency, and took his usual spot at the corner of the bar.

Ever confused, Woody just smiled and passed Norm his beer.

Norm drank down that beer almost instantaneously, and then 12 more in under a half hour.  Of course, this meant he would soon have to see a man about a horse, and he excused himself from his usual gang of Cliff and Frasier and went to the toilet.

He pushed open the old, well-worn, wooden door.

Inside was Al, also relieving himself at the urinal.

Norm nodded at Al, and, as there was only one urinal in the old tavern, leaned up casually against the wall.

Al had a mighty stream of piss.  Like a champion racehorse, his urine splashed off the porcelain and back onto his tattered trousers.

Norm couldn’t help but look.  He had always been attracted to Al, and Al knew it.

“Come here, Norm, and get a little taste from my man hose,” Al said.  His breath was husky.  “I can’t piss no more because I’m so rock hard.”

Norm just smiled and walked over to Al at the urinal.  He got down on his knees.  Norm could feel the filthy beer piss soaking through the knees of his Haggars.

He took Al’s old horse cock deep into his throat.  He could taste the sweaty balls, the hot piss, the moth ball odiousness from underpants bought the day before the Wall Street crash of ’29.

Suddenly, Al’s worthless cock began urinating again.  Norm choked on the streams of piss.  He gargled it up and it sploshed all over Norm’s dress shirt.

“I don’t even know why I wear a dress shirt, I never have a job anymore,” Norm said, and ripped the dress shirt off, tossing it into the corner of the bathroom.

Al pulled away.  “My God, look at those luscious tits, Norm, you hot fuck.  You’ve got full D cups.”

As suddenly as it started, Al’s piss stream subsided.  Al began stroking his member, and motioned for Norm to come and finish what he had begun.

“Pump my udder, pump my udder,” Al said, thrusting his crotch into Norm’s face.

Al grabbed Norm’s curly brown locks and forced him to deep throat Al’s sausage penis.

It bent backward like a big old salami, and Norm secretly wished he had a huge cunt, so he could accept all of Al’s loveliness within his honey pot.

Rhythmically, Al thrusted and thrusted until he finally came dust into Norm’s face.  Al buttoned up his pants and walked out, every inch of him a heterosexual again.

Satisfied as Hell, Norm got up, splashed his face with some water, and left a few minutes later.

Later, they would glance at each other from across the bar.  You could say Al was winking at Norm, but most people figured Al had lost control of the nerves in his eyelid because he was so old.

But they both knew they would meet again, in that old bar toilet.

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