Speaker 1: The bathroom door swung shut behind me, cutting off the
thumping base of some remixed pop song I'd been grinding
to alone for the past forty minutes. Forty minutes. I
checked my phone again. No messages, no sorry, runnin late,
no be there in five. Nothing Brad? Or was it?
Chad had officially stood me up? The cute guy from
the app with the crooked smile and the promise of
best sex of your life in his bio had ghosted. Asshole,
I muttered, catching my reflection in the streaky mirror above
the sinks. My lip gloss was still perfect, my top
was still showing exactly the right amount of cleavage. I'd
shaved everywhere for this. My whole old body hummed with
anticipation that now had nowhere to go. The door creaked open.
An older man walked in, stopping short when he saw
me leaning against the sink. Fifties maybe salt and pepper, hair,
weathered face, worn, leather jacket over a plain T shirt.
He looked like he'd been coming to this dive bar
since before I was born. Sorry, he said, voice gruff.
Didn't realize anyone was in here. It's the men's room,
I said, grinning. I'm the one who should apologize, he shrugged,
moving toward the urinal. I can wait, no need. I
didn't move, just watched him. He paused, hand on his belt.
You gonna stand there? Maybe that got a laugh out
of him, a short, surprised bark. You're something else, kid,
I'm nineteen, I said, as if that explained everything, and
I'm really wound up right now. His eyes traveled down
my body and back up. Not creepy, appreciative, like he
couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Date didn't show.
He asked, how'd you know? Saw you at the bar?
Kept checking your phone, face getting sadder each time. He
turned to the urinal finally, but didn't unzip his loss.
The words hit me somewhere low in my belly. My
pulse kicked up. You married, I asked, divorced girlfriend? Nope.
I pushed off the sink and walked toward the stalls.
My heels clicked on the tile. Wet tile. Someone had
missed the toilet earlier. The whole floor was slick with
something I didn't want to think about. I turned back
to look at him. You coming or what? His eyebrows
shot up. You're serious. I'm horny as hell and my
date bailed and you're here, and you're clearly not saying no.
I pulled open the stall door, the big one at
the end handicapped more room, So yes, I'm serious. For
a long moment, he just stood there, one hand still
resting on his belt buckle. His eyes searched my face
like he was looking for the hidden camera. Then he
walked toward me. I backed into the stall and he followed,
shutting the door behind him. The latch clicked, the music
from the bar muffled to a distant throb. What's your name,
he asked, Does it matter? Guess not. I dropped to
my knees. The floor was cold and wet through my tights. Gross,
I didn't care. My fingers found his belt, worked the
buckle loose, popped the button on his jeans. He sucked
in a breath above me. I pulled the zipper down.
You don't have to, I want to. I looked up
at him, my chin practically resting against the bulge in
his boxers. I've been thinking about cock all day, all week.
I need this. His hand hovered near my hair but
didn't touch. Still uncertain, I tugged his jeans down just enough,
freeing him. And oh he was thick, not just long,
but heavy, looking already half hard from whatever fantasy had
been spinning through his head since I'd propositioned him. The
head gleamed in the fluorescent light. Impressive, I whispered. Then
I took him in my mouth. The groan that escaped
him was deep and broken, like he'd been holding it
in for years. His hand finally landed on my head,
fingers threading through my hair, not pulling, just resting there.
I worked him slowly at first, letting my tongue trace
the ridge, the vein, the sensitive spot just beneath the head,
salty warm. He grew harder against my lips, filling my
mouth more with each passing second. Jesus, he breathed. I
moaned around him. My hand cupped his balls through his boxers,
heavy and loose, and his hips jerked forward. I gagged, slightly,
pulled back, then went right back down, taking him deeper.
My spit ran down his shaft, slick and messy. The
sounds in the stall were obscene, wet and hungry. I
licked him like I was starving, every stroke of my
tongue made his fingers tighten in my hair. Every time
I pulled back to gasp for air, I dove right
back down. My jaw ached, my eyes watered, my thighs
pressed together, my own wetness soaking through my panties. Okay,
I said, pulling off with a pop. Okay, my turn.
He looked dazed, drunk on what I'd just done to him.
I stood up, grabbed his shoulders, and spun him around
so his back was against the stall wall. Then I
climbed onto the toilet seat, the lid digging into my knees.
The porcelain was cold. Everything in here was cold except us.
I lifted my skirt, hooked my thumbs into my panties,
and slid them down my thighs, letting them dangle from
one ankle. The air hit my bare cunt, and I shivered.
You ever eat a girl out in a bathroom before?
I asked? No? First time for everything. I grabbed the
grab bar with one hand and pulled his head forward
with the other. His face met my thighs, and then
his tongue was on me. Finally, he wasn't tentative anymore.
He licked into me like he was trying to memorize
the shape of my cunt. Broad strokes followed by sharp
flicks against my clit. My head fell back. The moan
that came out of me echoed off the tile. Yeah,
I squealed like that, Just like that. His hands gripped
my ass, spreading me wider. His tongue dipped lower, circling
the tight pucker of my asshole, and I jerked forward,
grinding against his mouth. Clean it, I said, clean all
of it. He obeyed. He ate me like I was
the first good meal he'd had in years. His stubble
scraped my inner thighs. His tongue plunged inside me, then
back up to my clit, then behind, teasing and licking
until I was dripping down his chin enough. I finally gasped,
I want to. I slid off the toilet, and he
sat down, his cock standing straight up, slick with my spit.
I straddled him, one knee on either side, and sank down.
The stretch of him inside me made my vision blur.
Oh fuck, I breathed, Yeah. He grunted. Yeah. I wrote
him hard, no warm up, no slow build up, just
slamming my hips down over and over. My tits bouncing
in his face. He took the hint, yanked my top down,
and sucked one nipple into his mouth. His teeth grazed
the tip, and I cried out, too loud for a
public bathroom, definitely loud enough for anyone at the urinals
to hear. I didn't care. Finger my ass, I panted.
His hand slid around, spit, slick thumb pressing against me,
pushing in the fullness was obscene cock in my cunt,
thumb in my ass, his mouth still on my tits.
I thrashed, I moaned. I rowed him until my thighs burned,
and my breath came in sharp little screams. I'm close,
he warned, voice strained. I'm gonna wait. I scrambled off him,
spun around and bent over the toilet, hands on the
filthy tank, ass in the air, My cheek pressed against
the cold porcelain. Fuck me, I said, Fuck me hard.
He was behind me in a heartbeat, slamming in with
one stroke. The new angle made me see stars. His
hips slapped against my ass, his balls swinging forward to
tap my clit with every thrust. His hand fisted in
my hair and pulled yes, I hissed, Pull it harder
he did. I was bent over a pistained toilet in
a dive bar, getting railed by a stranger twice my
age and I had never been wetter in my my life.
My orgasm built at the base of my spine, sharp
and electric. I shouted, Come in me, you old bastard,
come in me. Do it get me pregnant? I want it,
Come in me. His rhythm shattered, his groan was animal
and broken, and then I felt it hot and pulsing
deep inside me, ropey, stringy. He emptied himself into my cunt.
With three final shuddering thrusts, he pulled out. I stayed there,
bent over, breathing hard. Something warm and thick dripped from me,
pearling at my opening, before rolling down the inside of
my thigh in a long white streak. I straightened up,
turned around. He was sitting on the toilet, now spent,
his cock softening against his thigh. His chest heaved. I
pulled my panties back up, adjusted my top, smoothed my skirt. Thanks,
old timer, I said, grinning, I needed that. I walked
out of the stall, my heels clicking on the wet tile.
Behind me. I heard him exhale a long, shaky breath.
My lucky fucking day. I hoped you enjoyed today's sexy Story.
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