toilet sex

Dance with me. Dance me to the end of love. Dance like that time you asked me to feel you. You told me you were embarrassed by your hard on. You asked me not to notice it while you were dancing with me and rubbing it against my inner thigh. We were telling each other sex stories and laughing at our own short comings. we didn't know that laughter, that comfort was going to get us in trouble. or maybe we were both looking for trouble.
Remember how we were fighting? Remember all that tension that you always dissolved with a kiss?
Every time you kissed me I had to succumb to you. Which is exactly why I didn't kiss you when we broke up. You kiss with poison. You kiss smoothly. Tease. You kiss like a soft animal's fur on naked skin. I wish I could forget your kiss.
The rhythm builds up and we want to find a definition of what we do. Fuck me. My breath fogs up the glass wall. I see myself in it. I see you whispering. I cover your mouth. People walk in and out of the restroom. I'm sure they heard us. I'm sure someone will see your shoes and pants down to your ankles that show under the toilet's three quarter cut door. Fuck me harder. I can feel your cock enlarging my Ego, my soul, my desire for you. My fingers try to cover your lips, but you bite them and suck them to make me feel even more.
I walked back into the club with sperm drying on the back of my leg. My mind was still on your lips that were tightened around sobs and shakes you were trying to strangle for fear of being heard. Our friends didn't even notice we were gone. I missed you.