Months had passed, and the memory of that night lingered like a ghost of pleasure. Neither of us had the guts to text, the connection too raw, too intense to just continue through screens.
Then, one night at a local club, under the strobe lights and the pulsing beat of the music, our eyes met across the dance floor. The world stopped, time slowed, and all that existed was the electric charge between us. The air was thick with the scent of desire and anticipation.
We didn't speak; words were unnecessary. He grabbed my hand, pulling me through the crowd, the urgency in his touch clear. We ducked into the disabled loo, the door slamming shut behind us. Our kisses were hungry, desperate, our hands roaming with a need that had built up over months.
Clothes were barely an obstacle, torn off in our rush. He lifted me onto the sink, my legs wrapping around him, pulling him closer. The cold porcelain against my back contrasted with the heat of him inside me. Each thrust was like a melody to the rhythm of the club's bass, our moans blending with the distant music.
In the haze of passion, we realized too late that the door wasn't locked. As he was buried deep within me, his friend walked in, looking for him. The shock was brief, replaced quickly by a pulse of adrenaline. I turned, still panting, and dropped to my knees, my eyes locked with his friend's, an invitation clear in my gaze.
The friend's initial surprise turned into a smirk, understanding the moment. He locked the door behind him, sealing us in our private world. I took them both in my hands, feeling their heat, their desire. They were both hard, both wanting, and I was eager to please.
I alternated between them, my mouth working one while my hand stroked the other, their groans of pleasure echoing in the small space. The air was thick with our scents, the sounds of our passion, the music from outside a distant beat to our own primal rhythm.
They took turns with me, one taking me from behind while I sucked the other, the mirror reflecting our tangled, lustful dance. The danger of being caught, the thrill of the forbidden, it all heightened the experience. Each touch, each thrust was magnified by the situation.
After, we were a mess of sweat and satisfaction, leaning against each other for support, our breath ragged. The connection wasn't just physical; it was a shared secret, a bond of lust and trust.
We cleaned up, but the night, the moment, was etched into us, a story we'd never share but would always remember. As we left the bathroom, the club's lights seemed brighter, the music louder, but our world was quieter, filled with the echoes of our shared passion.
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