August 4th, 2011 … the Trashiest Day of my Life

So I have an ex, he’ll be known on this blog as Cody. You may know him from vague previous mentioning; he’s the one I impulsively fled to Arcata for a week for. He’s adorable, and I like him way more than I should considering he’s an annoying butt and the biggest failure of a gay I’ve ever met.

Anyway, we still hang out pretty regularly and eat sushi like it’s nobody’s business. And hump like it’s going out of style. Usually nothing inform-the-blog worthy, but I had to agree with him when he said this was blog worthy.

I totally have a thing for public sex. When we were together, and even some time after, I’d lament my secret dirty desire for bathroom sex.

The fantasy, what I had in mind, went one of two ways. Way one, we were at my favorite night club, early in the night when the private bathrooms were still open. We’d sneak in, lock the door, and go to town. I’d get bent over the sink, thrown up on the wall, maybe even take advantage of the space and privacy and just go for it on the floor. The club plays industrial and goth, so there’d also be this perfect mood setting of freak music with heavy bass. Then, when it was all done, we’d get on out and party like nothing ever happened.

Except for the whole I’d-totally-be-high-fiving-all-my-friends thing.

Way two, the dirtier way: we were somewhere, maybe the same club. We somehow managed to get into a stall together. For the sake of limited space use, I’m bent over just enough. I have to bite down on my favorite part of sex, the screaming, because people are coming in and out and we have to go unnoticed.

So Thursday, I’m hanging out with Cody. We haven’t had sex in like a month at least, due to some personal issues with how we had been getting along. The goal is to go to his apartment and “play”, but first he has to stop at the Dollar Tree and get some small stuff for his chore list. I find that I really have to pee, so he walks me to the women’s room, which is oddly out of the way. The bathrooms are down a hall, and the women’s is at the end. He takes a chair outside. It occurs to me that the placement of this bathroom, the emptiness of the store … these are perfect conditions … but, no way.

I text him with a suggestive eyebrow waggle. He knows my attraction to public bathroom sex, and I figured he’d appreciate the humor.

I open the door, and wiggle my eyebrow. We share a “heyoh.” I close the door, and open the door to show off my pants under my ass. I close the door, put my pants back on; but he’s come in, pulls them right back down, and puts his penis in me. Holy shit, I think, this is happening. No. Freaking. Way.

He decides where we are isn’t good enough. I start to move into a stall, but instead he grabs me and bends me over onto the sink. Normally, I’d hit a red flag right now. This is major get busted risk, without being in a stall. Yet, I can’t think clearly enough. It feels too good, not to mention my still running disbelief that this is even happening.

He says he’s about to cum, so I turn around and start to suck his dick. He’s always been a real stubborn cummer with anything that isn’t sex or masturbation, in fact in the year that we’ve been regularly boning he hasn’t cum from a hand or blow job. I thought if he was so close now was his chance … yet he just went right back to stubborn. We decided to close up shop, get his things, and finish up at his house.

Then, dick still out, situation still obvious … the door opens.

Yes, you read that correctly. We got caught.

What does the mother fucker do? “Oh, hey, how’re you doin ma’am?”

She closes the door. I stare at him in shock.

“Excuse me,” I say, “I must fake my own death in this stall.”

He leaves, I guess makes brief awkward conversation with the woman who is politely waiting, and I go in a stall. The moment I hear her enter and lock her stall, I run out of the bathroom like a loser. We decide the line is too long, considering our circumstances, and decide to get out.

“Let me get this straight,” he says in his car, “we just had sex, in a Dollar Tree bathroom, and got caught? We, Stef, are officially trashy.”

We drive a block over to the 7/11.

“Hey,” I say, “we can’t get any trashier … wanna finish the job in a 7/11 bathroom?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

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~ by Stefani Vonne on 08/08/2011.

2 Responses to “August 4th, 2011 … the Trashiest Day of my Life”

  1. Ya know to be fair the line was stupid long.

  2. Oh also this is the kinda style I love to read. I love stories!

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