Photo by Guy New York

“Are you guys fucking in there?”

Shit.  The stall was locked, and the hotel bathroom was far from anything, but someone found us anyway.  How do you answer that question? Just an honest yes? Say nothing at all? Ask for a towel?

“Um, yeah,” my friend replied in a quiet voice. I held her there against the wall, my cock still inside her and her legs wrapped around my body.  The pause was too long to be comfortable.

“Can I come in?”

It was almost a whisper, and there was enough breath in it that I reached over and unlatched the door without thinking. We stared as she entered the stall, watching her lean against the black tile. She looked us up and down and her eyes were wide with excitement. When she lifted her skirt and slipped two fingers beneath the thin fabric covering her cunt I started to move again. My partner bit my neck, but I could tell what she was watching.

“Fuck her harder,” came the quiet moan from behind me.

My nails pressed into her ass when I pulled her to me, and she wrapped her arms around me. I lifted her up and dropped her back down onto my cock without pause, and I could hear soft moans from behind us. She whispered her direction over and over again, and I obeyed with more enthusiasm than skill.

Her moans grew louder as my thrusts grew quicker, and I could feel my body losing control. I wanted to turn and look, and I wanted to kneel at her perfect feet. I wanted to come and I wanted to watch. I wanted everything all at once.

“I’m coming,” slipped from two mouths at the same time, and the air in the room was sucked out in seconds. I struggled to stand as we fucked, but when I finally opened my eyes minutes later we were alone again. The door was closed but unlocked, and my date was limp in my arms.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off her cunt.”

“I couldn’t take my ears off her moans.”

“I wanted to keep her.”

I lifted her up and stood her in front of me as we adjusted our clothes and hair. I opened my mouth to say something smart but closed it before I let out a sound. We walked out into the dark bathroom and washed our hands in silence.

It took me minutes to see the lipstick writing on the mirror.  It was almost too delicate to be real, but there were ten numbers in a row followed by two words: thank you.