My eyes are glued to your phone’s GPS, helping you navigate to our destination for our spontaneous date day. We share an appreciation for history and culture, and our passion for exploring keeps our relationship quirky and exciting. The explosive sex is admittedly another major contributor, but we will get to that later. We drive along a tall barbed-wire fence line until finally I direct you to pull into the small regional airport parking lot.

We are on the outskirts of a major city, and this local airfield now only serves small private aircraft. In its prime, it was booming with activity but has aged and today is merely a relic of the area’s past in aviation. While the runways and hangars are still functional, today is storming and windy, so poor flight conditions have grounded most flights. The property is nearly deserted, but the old brick terminal remains open to visitors as it hosts a self-touring museum of memorabilia.

“This is sick,” you say as we skip every other step into the terminal to escape the elements. The dated architecture and antique fixtures are right up our alley. I smile to myself… you think today is actually going to be educational. Per usual, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.

The terminal inside is very standard of the early 1900s. A side stairwell takes you up to the second floor, which is simply a large balcony wrapping around the interior of the space, the walls are lined with framed photographs, maps, diagrams, and other documents. We communicate in hushed whispers as we peruse the informational plaques accompanying each glass display case. We are entirely alone, save the one lone security officer who occasionally peaks out from the surveillance office on the first floor. I’m disappointed at the lack of audience as I love to tease you in public, but cannot complain; the risk of being caught by security is equally enticing.

I push the stairwell door open with a creak and motion for you to follow me upstairs to the second-floor exhibits.

As soon as the door shuts behind us, I’m all over you. You’re well accustomed to my sudden antics, and your tongue expertly eases my lips open, your fingers grab at my ass through my leggings, pulling my pelvis into yours. You lower your lips to my neck and I moan softly. You abruptly push me off you as punishment for the onslaught.

“No more,” you say, rolling your eyes and continuing up the stairs. I know this game; you want me to try again. I will. Your teasing serves as further motivation.

We work our way around the mezzanine, examining the displays. I lean forward with extra enthusiasm, sticking my ass out for you to admire, gingerly tucking my soft dark curls behind my ears when they fall into my face, cautious to not disturb the sexy hoop earrings you love.

I lean over the railing to check on the status of our security officer friend. He is on the phone in the office below. I use this as an opportunity to strike again, rubbing your cock through your jeans. I can feel you harden at my touch and I’m instantly wet. We maintain eye contact for several seconds before you close your eyes to savor the feeling. I apply a gentle but firm pressure along your shaft, cupping your balls and giving them attention through the thick fabric. The sound of the phone receiver being hung up in the lobby area below snaps you back to reality.

“Baby, no—”

“We’ll be quiet!”

“We can’t. Not here. At home. I promise.” You pry my hand off you.

“No, now,” I insist and gesture towards a door with a scratched, barely legible “Ladies Restroom” sign. I know your logical side is conflicted. This is a near empty building and the likelihood of another woman entering is slim to none. I pull you into the restroom before you have a chance to reason your way out of it. We are loud and animalistic, and I can’t fuck you here. But I will suck you dry.

I drop to my knees on the dated mint green and black checkered tile as you quickly release your belt and pull your cock out, muttering in disbelief, “You know this is crazy, right?” I waste no time getting to work and surprisingly, you cooperate with zero resistance. Your fingers are thoroughly tangled in my hair, fucking my face as I cough and gag. Saliva is running down my chin and I gasp for air. I worship your cock as if my life depends on it. My left hand is down my leggings and rubbing my clit hard in circles while my right hand grips your thigh for balance. You don’t need my hands for this, just my pretty little mouth.

“Baby, look.”

You turn my face towards the backside of the restroom door. To my surprise, there is a full-length mirror mounted. Tears and mascara are running down my face, my hair is a wreck. You run the back of your fingers down my cheek, gently caressing, then grab the stall partition behind you for leverage and mercilessly shove your cock down my throat. My body craves this, you using me to get yourself off. I hear the distant squeak of a door hinge and you can see the panic in my eyes as I look up at you with my lips tight around your cock. Understanding, you hold me still and stare straight into my soul, setting the record straight.

“We’re finished when I say we are.” 

I cave in my cheeks to suck harder; I’m insatiable, slurping like a madwoman to finish you off. Saliva drips down my chin, staining the front of my sweater and pooling on the tile floor. I focus with extra effort to maintain a steady pressure, pace, and depth. Your grip in my hair tightens and I feel your legs start to shake as you get closer.

“Just like that, baby. Just like that, keep going.”

I bathe your balls with the flat of my tongue, delicately to prevent overstimulating, and spit all over your cock. I offer myself another sideways glance in the mirror and imagine being caught in my current condition. I generally appreciate your ability to last long, but for once I’m praying you finish before anyone walks in. I stroke you and kiss the length of your hard cock while encouraging you with dirty words.

“I want your cum, baby. Please. All over my face,” I beg before returning to my steady rhythm, my head bobbing up and down. 

You groan in response. Here is your girl, on her knees, in a public bathroom, giving you the sloppiest head of your life. You’re so close that you have to grip the wall to balance yourself, your legs trembling uncontrollably.

“Fucking Christ,” you manage to speak before shooting your cum all over my face, gobs of it landing in my hair and stuck in my eyelashes. Our heavy breathing morphs into laughter as we recover and clean up at the sink; part of me hopes the ancient, buzzing window unit drowned out our noise but then again, a part of me hopes it did not.

We brace ourselves for our exit and retreat downstairs, calm and collected. To my relief, the security officer simply offers us a knowing smile and courteous, “Hope you all enjoyed your visit” on our way out.

Always the troublemaker, I reply, “Amazing… we will definitely be back!”

I wink at you and you squeeze my hand back, acknowledging our little secret.

“Let’s get home, dirty girl. I think I have a favor to return.”