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Celtic knot with no end. It’s a continuum of wet, warm, heart stopping sensation. His tongue is warm now. I did that. He reaches up under my Ramones shirt and starts to massage my breast. He finds my nipple and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger. I sigh against his mouth and rock myself towards him, my hips hitting his. He grunts, I don’t know if it’s pain or lust, I just don’t fucking care. I want him inside of me, fuck this foreplay shit, I need to release this insane build up before I fucking explode. That’s a nice thought, chunks of horny high me all over the walls in this grimy bathroom. Death by hormonal overload.
    “Hey, what the fuck’s taking so long buddy?” an angry guy calls out and bangs on the bathroom door. We don’t have long.
    I pull back and say, “Let’s just do this,” urgency tinting my voice with a whine. I would beg him for his cock if he asked.
    “We’re not doing this,” he said, pulling back farther, looking at me with concern. “I’m not going to fuck you in here, is that what you want?” I stop breathing. What did I step into here? Fuck, if I say yes he’ll think I’m a slutty asshole, if I say no he’ll think I’m a lying asshole.
    “Uh...maybe?” I say, hoping he’ll let me off the hook. This guy steals my voice, who am I around him?
    “Maybe? You followed me back here thinking maybe?” he whispers into my ear. He bites my lobe for emphasis and I gasp. I can feel the line of crazy pleasure from my ear directly to my clit. I breathe out slowly and find my voice. I reply, “No, I was hoping I’d get a chance to slide myself down your thick cock and milk your balls until we can’t do anything but grunt and sweat.” Ah-ha, there I am!
    “You want that, do you?” he growls and pulls me up against him; my head is thrown back so I can maintain eye contact. His eyes are gleaming. “You want me to pull out my cock, pull up your skirt and shove it up inside of you, is that what you’re saying?”
    I’m gone again. I can’t talk. My world has been reduced to his eyes, those eyes the colour I’ve never seen before. I can see myself reflected in them, my own eyes huge on my face, blinking in surprise. “Yes, I do believe I would like that,” I finally manage to say. I am on fire, every nerve is alight with need. I need him to fill me, to fuck me, to own me and use me. I’m so glad I can’t speak right now. I would sound insane if I voiced this.
    “You’re such a polite little slut, aren’t you?” he laughs. He reaches down and pulls up my skirt, the banging on the door resumes and we both ignore it. We don’t break eye contact as he hooks his finger inside my thong and pulls it down far enough to find my smooth pussy. I realize I’m holding my breath, waiting for him to slip his fingers lower, to find my wet slit and circle my clit until I’m a panting sobbing mess.
    I would beg him for his dick right now. I know this. I would crawl across this disgusting piss covered bathroom floor on my hands and knees and beg to worship that delicious cock. Thank God he hasn’t asked me to do that. I might get out of this with a shred of dignity.
    He slides his finger lower, finds the top of my slit and parts my lips; he hovers there for half a second, an eternity of torment for me, then pushes lower. This is already hundreds of times more satisfying than that dude on the dance floor, his name forgotten. He hits my clit hard, it’s a collision of flesh but it feels like metal on metal in my mind. It’s intense and the impact slams my eyes shut and my head back.
    “Look at me,” he demands, “fucking look at me while I do this.” He’s working my clit faster, and I force myself to lift my head up and open my eyes. His are so intense I can barely stand to keep staring. It’s like looking at the sun, I worry if I don’t look away his image will be burned on my retinas for the rest of my life. I can’t handle this raw intimacy. I want to let my eyelids fall