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The Wedding Reception

The wedding had been just like any other—vows, applause, and a lot of smiles. The reception was in full swing, but I needed a break from the crowd. I’d made my rounds, congratulated the family, and I realized I really had to piss. The problem was, it was my first time at this venue, and I had no clue where the bathrooms were. After a bit of wandering, I managed to flag down a staff member who kindly pointed me toward the employee restrooms downstairs.

Relief washed over me as I stepped down into the quieter, empty hallway. The noise from upstairs seemed a world away as I pushed open the door to the men’s room. Finally, a moment of peace.

I stood at the urinal, the tension of the day draining away as I let nature take its course. That's when I heard a voice behind me. “Great job,” she purred. “You’re a natural.”

Startled but not rattled, I finished, gave myself a quick shake, and zipped up before turning around. My eyes immediately locked onto her; a woman standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame like she owned the place. Her curves were unapologetic, in a tight skirt with killer boots that hugged her legs like a second skin. The kind of woman whose fashion choices demanded attention without saying a word.

I was still taking her in when a man casually strolled past her, looked me up and down, and headed straight for the urinals like nothing unusual was happening. He just unzipped and got to business, leaving me caught between him and this woman he kind of ignored.

She smiled, and it sent a jolt down my spine. Her eyes were all mischief and promise. “Do you do this a lot?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, like she was studying me. Her wanting expression was completely throwing my head off. Had I had too much to drink? Because I definitely felt like this woman was coming on to me.

“What’s that?” I shot back, smirking despite myself. “Get held hostage in the bathroom?”

The guy at the urinal snorted, his laughter echoing off the tile. The sound seemed to spark something in her, igniting the fire in her eyes. Her grin widened, a flash of teeth, and for a second, I wondered if I misread this totally and was about to get mugged.

The air in the room seemed thicker, the space between us charged. Every instinct I had told me this woman was trouble—the kind of trouble you either run from or dive headfirst into. And as her gaze slid over me, lingering just a bit too long, I knew which one I was about to choose.

She stepped closer, her hand landing on my chest, sending a shiver through me. Her eyes locked onto mine, fierce and wild, like we were two predators circling each other. There was a reckless energy in the air, and then, without hesitation, her lips we on mine. The kiss was deep and consuming, our mouths moving in a rhythm so intense it almost made me forget there was anyone else in the room.

Almost.

The flush of the urinal snapped me back to reality. It felt like I was waking from a trance. And maybe I was. My brain, in all its chaotic glory, was trying to convince me that this woman—this fiery, unpredictable woman—was some kind of succubus. Here to steal every ounce of my sexual energy, leaving me a hollow shell of a man. It was ridiculous, I knew that. But still, the thought lingered.

I needed to focus, but all the blood was rushing to the wrong head, and to make matters worse, the guy at the urinal, Mr. Piss, was heading my way. Panic flared up in my chest and I darted away from the door.

They both laughed “Relax,” she said, her voice smooth and teasing, as Mr P walked past us and leaned against the wall near the steps, clearly settling in to watch.

Before I could even process what was happening, she was on me again. Like a force of nature, she sprang onto me like a spider monkey. Her lips pressing hard against mine, her hands tangling my hair, as she ground her body against me with a hunger that sent my pulse racing. I stumbled back, hitting the wall hard with a thud, and heard Mr P. from the steps, his voice a low growl of approval.

“Fuck, yeah,” he muttered, clearly enjoying the show.

Instinct took over as I grabbed her from behind, flipping our positions, pressing her against the wall now. Our kisses grew even more frantic, like we were both racing against time, lost in the heat of the moment. Her nails dug into me, sending sparks of pleasure and pain through me, and just when I thought I had the upper hand, she pushed me back against the wall with surprising strength.

Then, she dropped to her knees.

My heart pounded in my chest as her hands trailed down, unbuckling my belt with expert precision. Every touch was electric. She rubbed me through my slacks, teasing, tormenting, and by the time she finally freed me, my cock was already straining, desperate for her attention. When she took me in her mouth, I almost lost it right there. The way she worked me—deep, slow, then fast—was enough to make my head spin.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr P watching. His gaze locked on us, his breath shallow, clearly getting off on what was unfolding in front of him. I couldn’t look away, his eyes on mine as I felt myself hit the edge. And when I came, it was like every part of me exploded, my release filling her mouth as she moaned softly around me.

As I stood there, catching my breath, I noticed Mr. P’s eyes were glazed over, his own release imminent, riding the same wave I just crashed into. She got up, went to the sink and adjusted her skirt. Fixing her makeup as Mr P waited patiently in the hallway. After freshening up, she gave me a parting peck on the cheek, and went out to take Mr P's hand.

As she took his hand they embraced and shared a long deep kiss, one that not doubt tasted like me.

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