The unexpected lust story

Talk

He pressed me firmly against the cold tile wall, the sensation sending a shiver down my spine, my pants was down to my ankles. His strong hands gripped my waist, lifting me slightly off the ground, leaving me at his mercy.
One hand slid under my shirt, fingers tracing circles around my nipples, making them harden under his touch. With each thrust, he moved deeper inside me, his hips pressing urgently against mine.
Our mouths collided, his lips crashing against mine with a hunger that left me breathless. our mouths locked in a passionate dance as his tongue explored every corner.
The air in the small restroom was heavy with the scent of our desire, the sounds of our bodies meeting echoing off the walls. The forbidden nature of the place, the risk of being caught, only made our connection more intense.
My moans were lost in his mouth, our kisses urgent and wet, as if we couldn't get enough of each other. Every sensation was amplified—the rough tiles against my back, the heat of his skin, the taste of him on my tongue.
The thought of someone walking in and catching us in this intimate act sent a surge of adrenaline through me, making me harder than I ever thought possible. His fingers played with my nipples, sending waves of pleasure through my body.
His pace quickened, the tension between us building to an intense peak. Each thrust brought me closer to the edge, In that moment, nothing else mattered—just the two of us, lost in the overwhelming, forbidden pleasure.
    I could feel the climax building inside me, the tension winding tighter with each thrust. Desperate for more, I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into me, wanting to feel every inch of him as he drove into me with growing urgency.
    The sensation was electric, each movement sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more forceful, each one hitting my prostate with perfect precision, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
     I could tell he was close too, his breathing ragged, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. We moved in sync, our bodies perfectly attuned to each other, chasing that inevitable release.
      The air was thick with the sound of our labored breaths, the wet slap of skin against skin, and the raw, unfiltered sounds of our pleasure. And then, in a shared moment of pure ecstasy, we both reached the peak together.
    My body tensed as I came hard, my release shooting up onto my stomach and chest, even splashing against my face. The intensity of it left me breathless, my mind spinning with the sheer pleasure of it all.
     At the same time, I felt him pulse inside me, his warmth filling me up as he spilled deep within, the sensation of his seed flooding me sending another wave of bliss through my body.
    As the last tremors of pleasure subsided, he slowly released me, both of us panting, our bodies slick with sweat and still trembling with the aftershocks of our shared climax. I was still lost in the euphoria, my body quivering with the remnants of ecstasy, completely spent but utterly satisfied.
    We stayed like that for a moment, savoring the intensity of what we had just shared, our hearts still pounding as we came down from the high together.
I smirked, a playful glint in my eyes, as I leaned into him, pressing my body against his, my arms snaking around his neck.
I brought my lips close to his ear, my voice low and teasing. "So, are you still angry with little ol' me?" I asked, the mockery in my tone clear as I let my fingers trail lightly down his neck.
He huffed, a mix of frustration and lingering desire in his voice, as he tightened his grip on me, pulling me even closer. "A little," he admitted, his breath warm against my skin. His hands roamed my back, possessive and firm. "But I don't ever want to see you let some other man flirt with you."
"Why not?" I whispered, my lips brushing against his neck, clearly pushing his buttons. I could feel the tension in his body as my words hung in the air, knowing exactly how to ignite the fire in him.
His grip on me tightened further, his eyes darkening with a mix of jealousy and need, as I teased him with a mischievous smile, daring him to show me just how much he cared.
   "Because you are my plaything, my toy," he growled, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "And I don't like to share." His words were a dark promise, sending a thrill through me. He tightened his grip, his eyes locked on mine, fierce and unwavering.
  "If I ever catch you again, I'll deduct your pay for the week and fuck your brains out until you remember exactly why I'm the best."
    His threat, laced with a tantalizing mix of power and desire, made my pulse quicken. I raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence, though the mischief in my eyes betrayed me.
"Oh? But what if I'm feeling naughty?" I purred, leaning in closer, the tension between us crackling like electricity.
    I was having too much fun teasing him, testing his limits, knowing full well the reaction I was provoking.
     His eyes narrowed, his voice low and dangerously calm as he replied, "Then I'll treat you like the brat you are and teach you a lesson." The way he said it sent a shiver down my spine, a delicious mix of anticipation and excitement flooding my senses.
   His words were more than a warning—they were a promise of what was to come, and the sheer intensity of it made me tremble with desire. I could feel his breath against my skin, his presence overwhelming, as his grip tightened, leaving no doubt that he meant every word.
The thought of what he might do, of how he would take control and make me his, sent a wave of heat through me, leaving me breathless and yearning for more.
I leaned in and gave him a kiss. It wasn't passionate or desperate, just a simple kiss, the kind shared between lovers—gentle, tender, and full of unspoken meaning. He pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around my waist, holding me tight against him.
I melted into the embrace, savoring the warmth of his body, the way his touch made me feel cherished, even if it was just a fleeting illusion. In that moment, I allowed myself to believe it, to pretend that he loved me as much as I craved, holding onto that illusion for as long as I could.
But our moment was suddenly shattered by the sound of the bathroom door creaking open, followed by a familiar voice calling out my name. "Max, are you in here?" P.J.'s voice echoed off the tiled walls, sending a jolt of panic through me. I had completely forgotten that I was supposed to be partying with them.
I froze, my heart racing as the reality of the situation hit me. I quickly shoved Bradley back, practically pushing him onto the toilet, my movements frantic as I pulled up my pants and hastily fixed my top.
There was no time to think, only to act. Taking a deep breath, I tried to steady myself, summoning all the acting skills I could muster.
I stumbled out of the stall, doing my best to appear both sick and very drunk. "Y-yeah, I'm *hic* here," I slurred, adding a hiccup for good measure, my words thick and unsteady. I leaned heavily against the wall, hoping the dim light would mask the flush still lingering on my cheeks.
Bobby, always the skeptic, narrowed his eyes at me. "Why are you in the bathroom?" he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.
"I-I think I had too much. I feel really *hic* sick," I mumbled, letting myself stumble forward as if I could barely keep my balance. Bobby stepped forward just in time to catch me before I "fell," his arms steadying me as I leaned heavily against him.
The whole scene was a blur of adrenaline and anxiety, the pulse of the earlier moment still lingering beneath the surface, making my heart pound in my chest.
As Bobby guided me out of the bathroom, I risked a quick glance back at Bradley, still hidden in the stall, our eyes meeting for the briefest moment.
The thrill of our secret, the danger of being caught, only added to the rush, leaving me both exhilarated and on edge as we made our way back to the party.
   Surprisingly, my act worked. They believed I was truly drunk and helped me home, where I continued to play the part. I stumbled around the living room, slurring my words and leaning heavily on the furniture for support.   
     Despite the ruse, I could sense Bobby's skepticism lingering just below the surface. He didn't fully buy my drunken performance, but he seemed willing to overlook it to avoid another argument and, more importantly, to keep P.J. from getting upset. I was grateful for that, as I certainly didn't want to make P.J cry either.
    As we settled in for the evening, the group decided to play a game of Monopoly. The board was spread out on the coffee table, the little plastic houses and hotels arranged neatly as we took our places around it.
   The game was a welcome distraction, allowing me to keep up the charade while maintaining a semblance of normalcy. I watched as the pieces moved around the board, the clicks of dice and the shuffling of money punctuating our conversations.
   At one point, P.J. had to leave abruptly to drop off his girlfriend at her place. He stood up quickly, grabbing his jacket and keys, giving us a hasty goodbye. "I'll be back soon," he promised. He rushed out the door, leaving Bobby and myself, all by ourselves.
As soon as P.J. was out the door, Bobby's demeanor shifted. His expression turned from casual to disappointed as he looked at me. "Drop the act, Max," he said, his voice carrying a note of frustration.
I let out a sigh and straightened up, dropping the facade. "Alright, you got me," I admitted, the pretense slipping away. Bobby's gaze was sharp as he continued, "You said you were going to spend the night with us. What's really going on?"
I met his eyes, feeling a mix of guilt and resignation. "I know I said that, but jack showed up anyway to keep an eye on me. It's... complicated," I said, trying to explain the situation.
Bobby's expression hardened as he said, "Okay, but seriously, that actually sounds toxic. You're involved in something pretty unhealthy."
I nodded, accepting his judgment. "I know," I replied, not bothering to sugarcoat it. Bradley is possessive and a jerk, but I'm not exactly innocent either. I use him for his money, and we're both aware of each other's motives. We're not trying to hide it. We know what this is.
   "Then why do you allow this to happen?" Bobby asked, his voice edged with frustration.
   I met his gaze, feeling the weight of his question. "Because I am too," I said quietly. "We both have our own motives, and we know them. But we still stay together. It's like a match made in hell, I guess."
    Bobby's eyes narrowed, the disappointment clear in his features. "I want to meet him," he said firmly.
   "Absolutely not," I countered, shaking my head. "I've told you before, he's not ready to meet you or P.J."
   Bobby's frustration grew, his voice rising slightly. "Why is it so important for you to hide him away from us? We should at least know who you're 'dating,' since we're your friends."
    I sighed, struggling to find the right words. "Trust me, you don't want to meet him," I said, hoping to end the discussion.
   "And why not?" Bobby asked, his tone now bordering on anger. "Why can't we know?"
    I was on the verge of breaking down and telling him the truth—about how I'd been seeing Bradley behind their backs, that I was essentially his sugar baby, and that despite everything, I might actually have feelings for him. But before I could say anything, the door swung open, and P.J. walked back in, the cheerful buzz of the party reentering the room.
   The sudden shift in atmosphere was like a breath of fresh air. The tension eased as P.J. rejoined us, and the mood lightened almost instantly. We fell back into the game, the sounds of laughter and playful banter filling the room once more.
    As I glanced at Bobby, I saw his anger dissipate, replaced by a resigned acceptance. I realized then that I would keep the truth about Bradley a secret for as long as I could. The risk of exposing my complicated, and often painful, relationship was too great. For now, it was better to keep my secrets hidden, preserving the fragile peace of the evening and maintaining the illusion of normalcy with my friends.

A/N

Guess who isn't dead?