The pig's rough, calloused hands scrub the urinals, his eyes gleaming with a mix of lust and shame. He's here every day, cleaning the filth of others, but really, cleaning for his own pleasure. He loves the feel of the cold, hard porcelain against his cock as he jerks off, the sound of his grunts echoing in the empty restroom. He's a faggot, a pig, and he loves it. He loves the smell of piss and bleach, the feel of his own cock in his hand, and the thought of all the men who've come before him, pissing and jerking off in this very spot.