In a Chicago hospital, a gentleman had made several attempts to get into the men’s restroom, but it had always been occupied. A nurse noticed his predicament.
Sir, she said “You may use the ladies room if you promise not to touch any of the buttons on the wall.”
He did what he needed to, and as he sat there he noticed the buttons he had promised not to touch.
Each button was identified by letters: WW, WA, PP, and a red one labeled ATR.
Who would know if he touched them?
He couldn’t resist. He pushed WW. Warm water was sprayed gently upon his bottom.
What a nice feeling, he thought. Men restrooms don’t have nice things like this.
Anticipating greater pleasure, he pushed the WA button. Warm air replaced the warm water, gently drying his underside.
When this stopped, he pushed the PP button. A large powder puff caressed his bottom adding a fragile scent of spring flower to this unbelievable pleasure.
The ladies restroom was more than a restroom, it is tender loving pleasure.
When the powder puff completed its pleasure, he couldn’t wait to push the ATR button which he knew would be supreme ecstasy.
Next thing he knew he opened his eyes, he was in a hospital bed, and a nurse was staring down at him.
“What happened?” he exclaimed. The last thing I remember was pushing the ATR button.
“The button ATR is an Automatic Tampon Remover. Your penis is under your pillow.”
