Dedicated to Mrs. Tempinsanity, my muse
Sorry I did not get your name the other day when we met, but we were in a big hurry, remember. I was so surprised when I opened the door to the small men's room at the bar, and there you sat on the toilet with a surprised look on your face. I could tell you had been drinking a lot by the strong stream of piss you were sending into the toilet. Perhaps because of the amount you had had to drink, you did not object when I moved toward you. As I did, I unzipped, and pulled out my semi-erect cock. I needed to piss bad, and right then, so having you sitting on the only toilet was only a mild inconvenience. As you continued to piss, I stepped between your legs and spread them apart so that I could piss into the bowl between them.
For a few moments, we pissed together, two strangers in need of relief from full bladders, with the world outside the door of no importance. As I finished, I squatted slightly so I could run my fingers across your warm wet pussy lips. Your eyes were closed, perhaps from embarrassment, or perhaps in invitation. I massaged both your pussy lips and clit slowly, enjoying the sensation of wet slipperiness and warmth. Thinking I should not press my luck here in this small room with an unlocked door, I stood up, reluctantly, and pulled my hand away from your dripping, silky slit. As I did, my cock passed in front of your face and grazed your lips. You moved forward, without opening your eyes, and caressed the still dripping tip of my cock with the tip of your tongue. Soon you were licking my entire cock from end to end, and I nearly came when you parted your lips and sucked it into your hot mouth.
After only a moment of this, I could stand no more. I put my hands under your arms and raised you up off of the toilet seat and leaned you against the sink with your panties still on the floor in front of the toilet. You raised one foot and rested it on the toilet as I guided my stiff cock into your waiting pussy. You again closed your eyes and pressed down against me as I drove deeply inside you. I felt the contractions as you began to come almost immediately, and I thrust harder, knowing that we had little time left together. As you began to come, squeezing my stiff cock with your throbbing pussy, I heard the door behind us open, but it closed a moment later, leaving us alone in the throes of cumming together.
You sagged into my arms, eyes closed, body pressed against mine, with my cock still buried deep inside you. Then you moved suddenly, as if just realizing where you were and what you had done. Your eyes popped open, and you looked directly into my eyes for a brief moment with only a flicker of concern. Then, you quickly wiped your pussy with some tissue, pulled on your panties, and scooted out the door without looking back. As you were leaving, you brushed against a man who was just entering. As he entered the bathroom, he winked at me and said, "Hot fuck, eh."
My reply was, "The best."
I am sure you remember this encounter; I know that I always will. Perhaps we will meet again one day.
Our next encounter arrived sooner than I though it would. After our brief encounter in the men's room, I thought about you often. My memories focused on the silkiness of your pussy lips, the way you responded to my touch, the way you thrust yourself downward on my cock. Oh, to see you again.! But perhaps it was not to be. I went back to the same bar several times over the following weeks, but, alas, you were never there. I had given up hope, when suddenly fate took a turn in my favor.
I was on the way to lunch one day, and I saw you entering the sandwich shop near the university for which I was headed. My heart began beating faster, and, I have to admit, my cock began throbbing. I approached the shop with a certain amount of anxiety. Would you recognize me? How would you react? Would you slap my face and stalk out? I did not know, but I knew the possibility of being with you again made it all worth the risk. Even in the worst case, I would always have the delightful memories of fucking you against the sink in our first meeting.
So in I went, and by luck I was right behind you in line. As you studied the menu, I said, "I recommend the No. 8. That's what I always have." At that you turned around and looked at me. For a moment, confusion reigned in your features. I saw the flicker of recognition, the uncertainty of possible further involvement with a total (well, nearly total) stranger, and possibly other concerns that I could not read. You ended the moment of silence by saying "No. 8 sounds good. I will try it."
After you paid, you stood by the register as I paid for my sandwich. As I walked up, you said "I always eat outside. Do you want to join me." I of course agreed. You could have led me anywhere at this point. We chatted about the day, the crowd, the coming winter as we walked, and soon you turned into a church ground. The church was surrounded by a stone wall a little over four feet tall, and you led me to a cul-de-sac in one corner where we could be seen only by someone walking directly into this hidden niche. The ground was thickly grassed, so we sat with our backs against the wall and ate, continuing our earlier chit-chat. After we had finished our sandwiches, it was you who brought up our earlier encounter.
"Do you always fuck drunk strangers when you come across them?" you asked. I laughed. Straight to the point--I liked that. "No, not always," I replied. "But in your case, you were too tempting to resist, and you did not seem to mind."
"No, I guess I didn't put up much resistance. But I was drunk, and my memories of the whole affair as not as sharp as I would like them to be." Given this opening, my response was "Perhaps we should meet and give it another try." I nearly fell over when you said "How about now. Here."