I know all of you. Every Friendster in DC has been inside
me at some point or another. To all the shallow scenesters
getting laid tonight, this one is for you:
blackcatbathroom@yahoo.com
Black Cat scenester girls are something special.
They love sex. They love giving and receiving
pleasure, both to men and women. They are able to
let go of their inhibitions as easily as dropping their
clothes. They know their music from DAF to DFA.
They are lovely, graceful, beautiful women, and are
as "proper" as anyone could want -- until you get
their passions aflame. Then they open themselves
to their own lusts and desires, freely giving
pleasure to others, not afraid to show their lustful
selves. They've learned to let the
larger portion of the effort to be driven by their
primitive carnal desires,
channeling them to give pleasure to others, so that
they receive the same.
So, it was the end of another drunken
night at <> indie dance
night. The DJ was spinning, of all
things, "Photograph," by Def Leppard.
Not for the first time, I regretted
being a nonsmoker, because this song
called for a cigarette lighter.
Anyway, it was then that I saw her, a
bespectacled sexy-librarian sort
dancing by herself near the stage. I
recognized her face instantly --
Miranda from Friendster! Naturally, I
moved closer to her, behind her, and,
seemingly deliberately, she backed into
me, still dancing, her delicious jeans-
clad ass rubbing against my crotch. I
put my arms around her as we danced
together, and I kissed her earlobe
lightly and whispered to her, "Miranda,
I've always wanted to meet you." She
turned around and kissed me. "Let's go
to the bathroom," I said.
Soon, we were fucking in the stall of
the Black Cat women's room, she spread
eagled over the toilet, me taking her
from behind as I held onto her hips
like a Metro bus driver at the wheel of
his trusty steed. I came quickly, my
usual control shattered by the vice-
like, seething hot-lava grip of her
pussy upon my cock. "Thank you," she
said as she turned around and kissed
me. "By the way, I'm not Miranda. I
used to hate that bitch for stealing my
photo off the web, but now I realize I
owe her a debt of gratitude. I will
write her a thank-you letter
tomorrow." And with that, she pulled
her pants back up, said goodnight, and
walked out, leaving me to wonder if I'd
be able to leave the stall and the
women's room unnoticed.
I've been AIMing Miranda for a year
after seeing her profile on Makeout
Club, but we only met in person a few
weeks ago. I told her I really wanted
to see the High Llamas and she said she
was a fan of them also and had plans to
be at the Black Cat that night. So I
get there at 8pm, when the Red Room was
kind of empty and sneaked into ladies
room where she told me to meet her. I
tapped her on the shoulder and said
hello, but she never turned around from
her reflection in the mirror. Instead
she ground her ass back into my crotch,
feeling my rock-hard dick against
her. "Lean over," I whispered in her
ear. She bent over, resting her head in
her arms, supported by the sink in
front of her. I reached down and
unzipped my pants, struggling to get my
cock out in its vastly excited state.
The entire head of my cock was soaking
wet with pre-cum. I lifted the back of
her dress over her hips, but every time
I tried to penetrate her, my cock
slipped out and just rubbed across her
lips instead. After three or four
tries, she started to get up,
saying, "No, this isn't going to
work..." "Wait," I said desperately,
gently nudging her back down onto the
counter. I reached down in between her
legs and found her cunt with my
fingers. It felt as hot as a furnace. I
opened her lips gently, and guided the
head of my cock in between her sweet
hot folds. Then, grabbing her by her
hips, I slowly pulled us together. We
were both so wet that I sank right in
to the hilt on the first stroke. I
started moving in and out of her, very
slowly and gently at first. "Uh huh...
so good. So, so good...." she said
dreamily as my strokes started to get
faster. "Oh God..." Finally, I came so
fucking hard that I thought I was going
to shoot her right off the end of my
cock, but I knew that wouldn't happen
because I had a death grip on her hips
and was pulling her into me so hard
that I was afraid I'd push my dick
right through her stomach. We lay there
panting for a moment and suddenly
realized -- whoa, we're in a public
bathroom! I picked up her dress and
very carefully disengaged, making sure
not to get any cum on her clothing as I
pulled out my cock. "That was really
good," she said, holding me. "Wow...
yeah, it really was," I said, still
somewhat out of breath. "But let's
go... we're going to miss the opening
acts." She led the way, leaving the
bathroom to make sure the coast was
clear, and then motioning me to follow.
She turned to me once again, and
whispered, "I have a secret to tell ...
actually ... two secrets. I had never
been with a man before and I hadn't
even heard of the High Llamas before
you!"
So I'm sitting at the bar near closing
time, sipping my gin and tonic,
watching the people leaving the Wag as
they mingle with the drunken mobs still
in the Red Room, and wondering if it's
time to call it a night. A drunk
southern belle type comes up to me and
just starts chatting, and so I figure
maybe I'll stay a little longer. She
tells me that she's here because her
friend has just come out as being bi,
and so she's brought her here to meet a
lesbian because she hears a lot of
lesbians come to the Black Cat to hook
up in the bathroom.
Just then a cute, somewhat butch-
looking girl, all short-haired and
pixie-ish with lovely perky breasts,
comes up to the bar. Southern girl
says to me conspiratorially "here comes
a lesbian now!" I say to her, "don't
assume anything just because she looks
sort of butch." In reaching for the
bar, the pixie girl bumps up against my
knee, which happens to be at the level
of her crotch. She puts her hand on my
leg and grinds her crotch into my knee,
and suddenly I think to myself, "this
girl is not a lesbian." And my cock
swells at the same moment.
I go back to talking to Southern Belle,
but most of my attention is really on
this pixie girl, who keeps her hand on
my leg and continues to grind her
crotch into my knee... except now she's
beginning to do it with small, subtle
rhythmic movements. I notice her face
is getting flushed, and her movements
more determined. "Excuse me a moment"
I say to southern belle, and I turn to
pixie girl and put my arms around her,
caressing her hair as she grinds her
way to an intense orgasm, biting so
hard into my earlobe that I think she
will bite it off in a bloody mass.
She comes, and says thank you, still
very flushed. I kiss her and she takes
off into the night, but not before she
tells me that she is a lesbian, but she
just liked my knee.
I turn to Southern Belle. "I guess she
was a lesbian" I inform her. "Did you
have fun?" says Southern Belle, with a
twinkle in her eye. "Yes," I say,
confessing, "but it left me with some
unresolved issues."
"Come out to my car then." I follow
her out to the street, past the black
cat guy ("Black Cat Black Cat.. a
little change for the homeless!"). Of
course I pause to give him a dollar,
and then in the wink of an eye we're in
the back seat of her old Toyota, parked
outside Saint-Ex. The trendy
metrosexuals coming and going don't
notice as she milks my dangerously
throbbing cock to an intense orgasm,
eagerly gulping down every last drop
until I am fully spent.
"Now I've got unresolved issues," she
winks as she wipes off her mouth and I
fumble with the buttons on my jeans.
We're both out of the car and she says
goodnight, and I see her hurrying down
the street after a girl she's spotted
(who looks remarkably like Miranda).
I see them kissing under a streetlamp
halfway down 14th Street, and I wonder
if the other girl can still taste my
cum on southern belle's lips and tongue.
"Everything is arranged," Amber says.
She sits down at the bar, sips her Gin
and Topic, and smiles at me."Amber, are
you sure about this?" "I thought we
agreed. You're not backing out, are
you?" "No." "Good. It's all set up. They
have the address and they said she'll be
there at 8 sharp. Just before the
opening acts go on stage." Last week the
idea seemed like a marvelous lark. We
would have an "escort" service send a
girl to us at the place we first met -
The Black Cat Bathroom. A wild hour to
celebrate our third month together.
Amber kisses my lips lightly, her
fingers pinching one of my nipples
through my blouse. opens it, and a tall
brunette walks in smiling at us. "Hi,
I'm Tiara. I'm not late, am I?" She's
stunning, maybe twenty-five, long dark
hair, dark eyes, a willowy figure in a
tight red dress, sheer dark hose and
evening sandals with stiletto heels. The
dress has a hidden zipper that runs
completely down her right side, and she
pulls at it slowly, slowly, opening her
covering, peeling herself open, emerging
like some ripe tropical fruit from its
outer skin."I'm hot," she says. "You
both turn me on." Her body moving again
to the music. "God, I love this Yeah
Yeah Yeahs song! She slides her legs
apart and says: "I need a finger inside.
Won't you do it?" Won't I? Hands are
everywhere, six hands and arms moving
and sliding like the tentacles of an
octopus. I stroke Tiara's thighs and
legs and belly. I stroke her
nylon-covered calves and ankles. I get
my fingers in her generous snatch. Tiara
has her knees wide apart, her pussy
hunched down on Amber's face, her hips
rolling slowly, her throat making noises
of pleasure as she feels Amber's tongue
everywhere. Finally I move in, crouching
behind Tiara's ass, bending to slide my
face over it. My heart pounds as I work
my tongue into the groove and around her
asshole. Before long I abandon myself,
nuzzling between the cheeks, licking
her, pushing my tongue inside, doing to
her things I never dare do to Amber. I
find my clit with my fingers and I rub
it as I lose myself in Tiara's ass. I
come hard. Tiara seems to sense that I'm
coming as she humps her ass against my
face. Later, Tiara sucks each of us in
turn, sucking Amber until Amber comes,
then sucking me until I come buckets on
her face. Tiara stands up. She smiles at
us as Amber and I stand side by side on
the stall. Brushing her hair away from
her face with her fingers, Tiara says:
"I told you I like you... but not as much
as Beth Ditto. C'mon, we've been in here
too long. The Gossip are about to get on
stage!" And that's life here in the
district for you... even hoes love great
music!
My disciples have written my teachings
on your walls. More importantly, in
1999 a plot to assassinate me was
foiled within your confines. Upon
learning that the secretive
maoist/papist cabal Ordo Novus Capsicum
(ONC), headed by the reclusive John-
Paul Pot, had ordered my death, it
became necessary to rendezvous one of
my cells with the secretive Lesbian
Extremist Brigades (LEB), headed by the
mysterious Lady L (her missives appear
in the City Paper person-to-person
weekly). Although sworn enemies, we
had to join forces because John-Paul
Pot had vowed to destroy us both. A
secret meeting was arranged between our
operatives in the Black Cat bathroom.
The meeting, in the guise of a lesbian
encounter, took place in one of the
stalls. The staged encounter devolved
into an actual lesbian encounter as the
operatives were overcome by the passion
of the moment. Fortunately, the
mission was not compromised, and the
microfilm changed hands unnoticed.
yes, i am a black cat, but unless i can
do bumps in the black cat bathroom,
well then, i might as well be a white
cat- those hip yankees, they don't know
white love-i do but only in facilities.
It had been a while since I had been to
the Black Cat, and I was looking
forward to a chance to dance at the
monthly Bliss indie-pop dance night and
let off some steam. I hadn't been
there long when I noticed her on the
dance floor, a dark-haired beauty in
snug jeans and a polo shirt, the open
collar of which gave just a hint of the
luscious breasts that lay beneath. The
shirt was teasingly short too, so when
she moved, dancing with abandon to
Tatu's "not gonna stop us," I saw
delightful hints of the skin above her
waistline.
She noticed me too, and cast a smile my
way. As the DJ cued up Sophie Ellis-
Bextor's "Mixed Up World," I walked
over to her and said hi. Soon we were
dancing together, our hands exploring
each other as our bodies moved together
to the beat. She turned around so her
back was facing me, her perfect ass
rubbing against me. I know she could
feel me getting hard through her pants,
because she was soon grinding her ass
against me even harder, as I wrapped my
arm around her waist and ran my hand
under her shirt to feel the smooth skin
of her belly.
To the sound of Swirl 360's "Hey Now
Now," she turned around and I kissed
her as I continued to move my hand up
inside her shirt, cupping her perfect
breasts, just small enough so no bra
was needed to keep them pert and
upright. I felt her nipples stiffen to
my touch and she squealed with delight
as I continued to kiss her. Now my
hand moved down her belly again, to the
waistline of her jeans. She undid the
button and my hand slipped down -- no
panties underneath, and my fingers
found her clit, which was soaking
wet.
"oh, get a room!" a guy next to us said
bitchily. So to the sound of
Spearmint's "Left Alone Among the
Living" I led her to the Black Cat
bathroom, where we slipped in unnoticed
past the anxiously peeing hordes, found
a vacant stall and I shut the door
behind us. We continued to kiss as I
slipped her pants down, and lifted her
shirt up, exposing her lovely breasts.
I sucked at her nipples, kissed my way
down her belly towards her pussy and
began to suck her clit. From the
jukebox in the Red Room, I could
vaguely hear the sounds of the
Pixies' "Number 19." She pulled me up
to her face, kissing her juices off my
lips. "Fuck me," she said, as she
fumbled at the buttons on my 501
jeans. "I thought you said we couldn't
fuck," I said between kisses. "I
changed my mind," she said, as she
freed my cock and guided it inside
her. She was so tight and wet that I
almost had to cum immediately, but I
held back and after a minute or two I
began to stroke in and out of her.
She cried out as she began to cum and I
felt her pussy clamping down on me; I
came too in an orgasm so tight that I
nearly passed out. "Thanks," she said
as she pulled her jeans back up and
straightened her hair, slipping out of
the stall. I stumbled out a few
minutes later, back into the crowded
Red Room where the jukebox was playing
the Buzzcocks' "Orgasm Addict." I
never got her name.
They love sex. They love giving and receiving
pleasure, both to men and women. They are able to
let go of their inhibitions as easily as dropping their
clothes. They know their music from DAF to DFA.
They are lovely, graceful, beautiful women, and are
as "proper" as anyone could want -- until you get
their passions aflame. Then they open themselves
to their own lusts and desires, freely giving
pleasure to others, not afraid to show their lustful
selves. They've learned to let the
larger portion of the effort to be driven by their
primitive carnal desires,
channeling them to give pleasure to others, so that
they receive the same.
night at <
night. The DJ was spinning, of all
things, "Photograph," by Def Leppard.
Not for the first time, I regretted
being a nonsmoker, because this song
called for a cigarette lighter.
Anyway, it was then that I saw her, a
bespectacled sexy-librarian sort
dancing by herself near the stage. I
recognized her face instantly --
Miranda from Friendster! Naturally, I
moved closer to her, behind her, and,
seemingly deliberately, she backed into
me, still dancing, her delicious jeans-
clad ass rubbing against my crotch. I
put my arms around her as we danced
together, and I kissed her earlobe
lightly and whispered to her, "Miranda,
I've always wanted to meet you." She
turned around and kissed me. "Let's go
to the bathroom," I said.
Soon, we were fucking in the stall of
the Black Cat women's room, she spread
eagled over the toilet, me taking her
from behind as I held onto her hips
like a Metro bus driver at the wheel of
his trusty steed. I came quickly, my
usual control shattered by the vice-
like, seething hot-lava grip of her
pussy upon my cock. "Thank you," she
said as she turned around and kissed
me. "By the way, I'm not Miranda. I
used to hate that bitch for stealing my
photo off the web, but now I realize I
owe her a debt of gratitude. I will
write her a thank-you letter
tomorrow." And with that, she pulled
her pants back up, said goodnight, and
walked out, leaving me to wonder if I'd
be able to leave the stall and the
women's room unnoticed.
Black Cat Bathroom!
after seeing her profile on Makeout
Club, but we only met in person a few
weeks ago. I told her I really wanted
to see the High Llamas and she said she
was a fan of them also and had plans to
be at the Black Cat that night. So I
get there at 8pm, when the Red Room was
kind of empty and sneaked into ladies
room where she told me to meet her. I
tapped her on the shoulder and said
hello, but she never turned around from
her reflection in the mirror. Instead
she ground her ass back into my crotch,
feeling my rock-hard dick against
her. "Lean over," I whispered in her
ear. She bent over, resting her head in
her arms, supported by the sink in
front of her. I reached down and
unzipped my pants, struggling to get my
cock out in its vastly excited state.
The entire head of my cock was soaking
wet with pre-cum. I lifted the back of
her dress over her hips, but every time
I tried to penetrate her, my cock
slipped out and just rubbed across her
lips instead. After three or four
tries, she started to get up,
saying, "No, this isn't going to
work..." "Wait," I said desperately,
gently nudging her back down onto the
counter. I reached down in between her
legs and found her cunt with my
fingers. It felt as hot as a furnace. I
opened her lips gently, and guided the
head of my cock in between her sweet
hot folds. Then, grabbing her by her
hips, I slowly pulled us together. We
were both so wet that I sank right in
to the hilt on the first stroke. I
started moving in and out of her, very
slowly and gently at first. "Uh huh...
so good. So, so good...." she said
dreamily as my strokes started to get
faster. "Oh God..." Finally, I came so
fucking hard that I thought I was going
to shoot her right off the end of my
cock, but I knew that wouldn't happen
because I had a death grip on her hips
and was pulling her into me so hard
that I was afraid I'd push my dick
right through her stomach. We lay there
panting for a moment and suddenly
realized -- whoa, we're in a public
bathroom! I picked up her dress and
very carefully disengaged, making sure
not to get any cum on her clothing as I
pulled out my cock. "That was really
good," she said, holding me. "Wow...
yeah, it really was," I said, still
somewhat out of breath. "But let's
go... we're going to miss the opening
acts." She led the way, leaving the
bathroom to make sure the coast was
clear, and then motioning me to follow.
She turned to me once again, and
whispered, "I have a secret to tell ...
actually ... two secrets. I had never
been with a man before and I hadn't
even heard of the High Llamas before
you!"
time, sipping my gin and tonic,
watching the people leaving the Wag as
they mingle with the drunken mobs still
in the Red Room, and wondering if it's
time to call it a night. A drunk
southern belle type comes up to me and
just starts chatting, and so I figure
maybe I'll stay a little longer. She
tells me that she's here because her
friend has just come out as being bi,
and so she's brought her here to meet a
lesbian because she hears a lot of
lesbians come to the Black Cat to hook
up in the bathroom.
Just then a cute, somewhat butch-
looking girl, all short-haired and
pixie-ish with lovely perky breasts,
comes up to the bar. Southern girl
says to me conspiratorially "here comes
a lesbian now!" I say to her, "don't
assume anything just because she looks
sort of butch." In reaching for the
bar, the pixie girl bumps up against my
knee, which happens to be at the level
of her crotch. She puts her hand on my
leg and grinds her crotch into my knee,
and suddenly I think to myself, "this
girl is not a lesbian." And my cock
swells at the same moment.
I go back to talking to Southern Belle,
but most of my attention is really on
this pixie girl, who keeps her hand on
my leg and continues to grind her
crotch into my knee... except now she's
beginning to do it with small, subtle
rhythmic movements. I notice her face
is getting flushed, and her movements
more determined. "Excuse me a moment"
I say to southern belle, and I turn to
pixie girl and put my arms around her,
caressing her hair as she grinds her
way to an intense orgasm, biting so
hard into my earlobe that I think she
will bite it off in a bloody mass.
She comes, and says thank you, still
very flushed. I kiss her and she takes
off into the night, but not before she
tells me that she is a lesbian, but she
just liked my knee.
I turn to Southern Belle. "I guess she
was a lesbian" I inform her. "Did you
have fun?" says Southern Belle, with a
twinkle in her eye. "Yes," I say,
confessing, "but it left me with some
unresolved issues."
"Come out to my car then." I follow
her out to the street, past the black
cat guy ("Black Cat Black Cat.. a
little change for the homeless!"). Of
course I pause to give him a dollar,
and then in the wink of an eye we're in
the back seat of her old Toyota, parked
outside Saint-Ex. The trendy
metrosexuals coming and going don't
notice as she milks my dangerously
throbbing cock to an intense orgasm,
eagerly gulping down every last drop
until I am fully spent.
"Now I've got unresolved issues," she
winks as she wipes off her mouth and I
fumble with the buttons on my jeans.
We're both out of the car and she says
goodnight, and I see her hurrying down
the street after a girl she's spotted
(who looks remarkably like Miranda).
I see them kissing under a streetlamp
halfway down 14th Street, and I wonder
if the other girl can still taste my
cum on southern belle's lips and tongue.
She sits down at the bar, sips her Gin
and Topic, and smiles at me."Amber, are
you sure about this?" "I thought we
agreed. You're not backing out, are
you?" "No." "Good. It's all set up. They
have the address and they said she'll be
there at 8 sharp. Just before the
opening acts go on stage." Last week the
idea seemed like a marvelous lark. We
would have an "escort" service send a
girl to us at the place we first met -
The Black Cat Bathroom. A wild hour to
celebrate our third month together.
Amber kisses my lips lightly, her
fingers pinching one of my nipples
through my blouse. opens it, and a tall
brunette walks in smiling at us. "Hi,
I'm Tiara. I'm not late, am I?" She's
stunning, maybe twenty-five, long dark
hair, dark eyes, a willowy figure in a
tight red dress, sheer dark hose and
evening sandals with stiletto heels. The
dress has a hidden zipper that runs
completely down her right side, and she
pulls at it slowly, slowly, opening her
covering, peeling herself open, emerging
like some ripe tropical fruit from its
outer skin."I'm hot," she says. "You
both turn me on." Her body moving again
to the music. "God, I love this Yeah
Yeah Yeahs song! She slides her legs
apart and says: "I need a finger inside.
Won't you do it?" Won't I? Hands are
everywhere, six hands and arms moving
and sliding like the tentacles of an
octopus. I stroke Tiara's thighs and
legs and belly. I stroke her
nylon-covered calves and ankles. I get
my fingers in her generous snatch. Tiara
has her knees wide apart, her pussy
hunched down on Amber's face, her hips
rolling slowly, her throat making noises
of pleasure as she feels Amber's tongue
everywhere. Finally I move in, crouching
behind Tiara's ass, bending to slide my
face over it. My heart pounds as I work
my tongue into the groove and around her
asshole. Before long I abandon myself,
nuzzling between the cheeks, licking
her, pushing my tongue inside, doing to
her things I never dare do to Amber. I
find my clit with my fingers and I rub
it as I lose myself in Tiara's ass. I
come hard. Tiara seems to sense that I'm
coming as she humps her ass against my
face. Later, Tiara sucks each of us in
turn, sucking Amber until Amber comes,
then sucking me until I come buckets on
her face. Tiara stands up. She smiles at
us as Amber and I stand side by side on
the stall. Brushing her hair away from
her face with her fingers, Tiara says:
"I told you I like you... but not as much
as Beth Ditto. C'mon, we've been in here
too long. The Gossip are about to get on
stage!" And that's life here in the
district for you... even hoes love great
music!
on your walls. More importantly, in
1999 a plot to assassinate me was
foiled within your confines. Upon
learning that the secretive
maoist/papist cabal Ordo Novus Capsicum
(ONC), headed by the reclusive John-
Paul Pot, had ordered my death, it
became necessary to rendezvous one of
my cells with the secretive Lesbian
Extremist Brigades (LEB), headed by the
mysterious Lady L (her missives appear
in the City Paper person-to-person
weekly). Although sworn enemies, we
had to join forces because John-Paul
Pot had vowed to destroy us both. A
secret meeting was arranged between our
operatives in the Black Cat bathroom.
The meeting, in the guise of a lesbian
encounter, took place in one of the
stalls. The staged encounter devolved
into an actual lesbian encounter as the
operatives were overcome by the passion
of the moment. Fortunately, the
mission was not compromised, and the
microfilm changed hands unnoticed.
do bumps in the black cat bathroom,
well then, i might as well be a white
cat- those hip yankees, they don't know
white love-i do but only in facilities.
the Black Cat, and I was looking
forward to a chance to dance at the
monthly Bliss indie-pop dance night and
let off some steam. I hadn't been
there long when I noticed her on the
dance floor, a dark-haired beauty in
snug jeans and a polo shirt, the open
collar of which gave just a hint of the
luscious breasts that lay beneath. The
shirt was teasingly short too, so when
she moved, dancing with abandon to
Tatu's "not gonna stop us," I saw
delightful hints of the skin above her
waistline.
She noticed me too, and cast a smile my
way. As the DJ cued up Sophie Ellis-
Bextor's "Mixed Up World," I walked
over to her and said hi. Soon we were
dancing together, our hands exploring
each other as our bodies moved together
to the beat. She turned around so her
back was facing me, her perfect ass
rubbing against me. I know she could
feel me getting hard through her pants,
because she was soon grinding her ass
against me even harder, as I wrapped my
arm around her waist and ran my hand
under her shirt to feel the smooth skin
of her belly.
To the sound of Swirl 360's "Hey Now
Now," she turned around and I kissed
her as I continued to move my hand up
inside her shirt, cupping her perfect
breasts, just small enough so no bra
was needed to keep them pert and
upright. I felt her nipples stiffen to
my touch and she squealed with delight
as I continued to kiss her. Now my
hand moved down her belly again, to the
waistline of her jeans. She undid the
button and my hand slipped down -- no
panties underneath, and my fingers
found her clit, which was soaking
wet.
"oh, get a room!" a guy next to us said
bitchily. So to the sound of
Spearmint's "Left Alone Among the
Living" I led her to the Black Cat
bathroom, where we slipped in unnoticed
past the anxiously peeing hordes, found
a vacant stall and I shut the door
behind us. We continued to kiss as I
slipped her pants down, and lifted her
shirt up, exposing her lovely breasts.
I sucked at her nipples, kissed my way
down her belly towards her pussy and
began to suck her clit. From the
jukebox in the Red Room, I could
vaguely hear the sounds of the
Pixies' "Number 19." She pulled me up
to her face, kissing her juices off my
lips. "Fuck me," she said, as she
fumbled at the buttons on my 501
jeans. "I thought you said we couldn't
fuck," I said between kisses. "I
changed my mind," she said, as she
freed my cock and guided it inside
her. She was so tight and wet that I
almost had to cum immediately, but I
held back and after a minute or two I
began to stroke in and out of her.
She cried out as she began to cum and I
felt her pussy clamping down on me; I
came too in an orgasm so tight that I
nearly passed out. "Thanks," she said
as she pulled her jeans back up and
straightened her hair, slipping out of
the stall. I stumbled out a few
minutes later, back into the crowded
Red Room where the jukebox was playing
the Buzzcocks' "Orgasm Addict." I
never got her name.