Okay, so you want a story, huh? Something fun, a little dirty, a little real. Well, let me tell you about last Friday. God, it was such a good night.You know me. I’m the girl with the red hair you can spot from across the club. Mia. Nineteen, and yes, I absolutely use the men’s bathroom because the line for the women’s is a fucking tragedy of lost dance time. I’d had, like, three vodka sodas? Just enough to feel loose and floaty, to make the bass thump right in my chest, to make my skin feel electric every time someone brushed past me on the way to the bar.I was feeling frisky. You know that feeling? Where your clothes are just a little too tight, the air is just a little too warm, and every glance from a cute guy feels like a promise? Yeah. That.So I’m heading to my usual spot—the men’s room—because, again, no line. A minor victory. I pushed the heavy door open, the smell of industrial cleaner and cheap cologne hitting me. Two guys were at the urinals, and one just did a double-take, saw my hair over the stall door, and shrugged. See? No big deal.I was fixing my lip gloss in the smudged mirror when he walked in.He wasn’t some towering god. Just… cute. Really cute. Dark hair, a little messy from dancing, and this confident smile that didn’t leave his face even when he saw me. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt that clung to his shoulders in a way that made my mouth water. He leaned against the sink next to me.“Bold move,” he said, his voice a low rasp that cut right through the thumping music muffled by the door.I grinned, popping my lip gloss back in my tiny purse. “Strategic. The women’s line is a war crime.”He laughed, a genuine, warm sound. “I’m Alex.”“Mia.”His eyes trailed over me, from my curls down to my boots, and there was no mistaking the heat in them. It wasn’t sleazy. It was appreciative. And it sent a direct, liquid pulse straight to my core. I felt my pussy clench, a sudden, empty ache.“Having a good night?” he asked, his gaze settling back on my face.“Getting better,” I said, and I let my own eyes wander down his body. I could see the outline of his cock, soft and resting against his thigh in his jeans. A nice, manageable bulge. Not intimidating. Inviting.The other guys finished up and left, leaving us alone with the humming fluorescents. The noise of the club felt far away, like we were in our own little bubble.Alex took a half-step closer. “What would make it even better?”I didn’t even think. The vodka, the music, the sheer want vibrating through me took over. I reached out and palmed him through his jeans. He was already thickening, growing firm and warm under my hand. I felt him jump, then a low groan rumbled in his chest.“This,” I whispered, leaning in so my lips were almost at his ear. “I want to taste you.”His hand came up to cradle the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair. “Fuck, Mia. Are you sure?”In answer, I dropped to my knees right there on the cool, slightly sticky tile floor. The position sent a thrill through me—the danger, the absurdity, the pure naughtiness of it. I looked up at him, his eyes wide with shock and desire, and I made quick work of his button and zipper. He helped, shoving his jeans and boxer briefs down to his mid-thighs.And there it was.His cock sprang free, already mostly hard. It was… perfect. Just… a really nice dick. I’m not being flippant. It was probably about five and a half inches, thick enough to feel substantial in my hand, with a beautiful, pronounced head that was already glistening with a single, clear bead of pre-cum. It curved just slightly upward. It looked happy to see me. Strong. Masculine. I wrapped my fingers around the base, feeling the heat and the firm, velvety skin. I gave him a slow, deliberate stroke, watching his stomach muscles tighten.“You’re beautiful,” I murmured, and I meant it. I leaned forward, letting my breath ghost over the sensitive tip before I finally, finally, touched my tongue to that droplet of pre-cum. It was salty, musky, addictive. I licked it clean, a slow, flat stripe from the base of his shaft all the way back up to the tip.Alex hissed, his hips bucking slightly. “Jesus Christ.”I smiled, taking him into my mouth.I started slow, just the head, swirling my tongue around the corona, tasting more of his essence as it leaked freely now. My pussy was dripping, my own wetness soaking through my panties. I could feel the slickness against my thighs. I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper, inch by inch, until my nose pressed into the coarse, trimmed hair at his base. He filled my mouth perfectly, not hitting the back of my throat in a painful way, but just… fitting. I could breathe through my nose. I could focus on the sensation.I began to move. Up and down, my hand working in tandem with my mouth, twisting on the upstroke. I used my other hand to cradle his balls, heavy and tight in their sack, rolling them gently in my palm. His groans became a constant, ragged soundtrack above me. His hands were in my hair, not forcing, but holding on, guiding my rhythm.“God, your mouth… so good, Mia… fuck…”I lost myself in it. The rhythm. The taste. The feel of him hardening to absolute steel in my mouth. The sounds he made. I looked up, meeting his gaze, and the raw hunger in his eyes made my entire body clench with need. I moaned around him, the vibration making his knees buckle.I could feel him getting closer. His breathing was ragged. His balls drew up tighter against his body. His thrusts into my mouth became less controlled, more desperate. I doubled my efforts, sucking harder, moving faster, my hand a blur on his shaft. I wanted it. I wanted to taste him so bad.“Mia, I’m gonna… I’m gonna come…”I just hummed in approval, locking my eyes with his. I took him as deep as I could and stayed there.His orgasm hit him like a freight train. His whole body tensed, a strangled shout tearing from his throat. The first hot, thick spurt hit the back of my tongue. It was rich, slightly bitter, alive. The second pulse followed immediately, flooding my mouth. I swallowed instinctively, then again as more came, feeling each distinct, powerful contraction of the muscles along his shaft as he emptied himself into me. It seemed to go on forever, rope after rope of his warm seed, and I drank it all down, milking him with my hand until he was twitching, oversensitive.He was panting, trembling. I slowly, gently, released him from my mouth with a soft pop. His cock was still hard, glistening with a mix of my saliva and his own spend. It looked utterly spent but still erect, throbbing visibly.Now, here’s where it got really fun.I knew he was sensitive. Hypersensitive. But I was still buzzing, still so turned on my own thighs were slick. I didn’t stop. I leaned in and licked him again, a slow, deliberate swipe from root to tip.“Ah! Fuck, Mia, sensitive…” he gasped, his body flinching.“I know,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. I did it again, softer this time, just flicking my tongue over the swollen, purplish head. He groaned, a mixture of pain and pleasure. His cock jerked in my hand, still impossibly hard. I wrapped my lips around just the tip and sucked, gently but firmly.“Ohgodohgod…” he chanted, his hands gripping the sink behind him for support. His hips tried to pull away, but my hand held him firm. I could feel the tension in him, the fine tremor running through his thighs. Every nerve ending was screaming. I kept my mouth on him, my tongue working that ultra-sensitive spot right underneath the head, and I started to move my hand again, a slow, torturous pump.The overstimulation was a drug. For him and for me. Watching his face contort in exquisite agony, feeling his cock pulse and twitch against my tongue, knowing I was pushing him past where he thought he could go… it made my own need a white-hot fire. My free hand slid into my own underwear, and I found my clit, swollen and aching. I rubbed tight, fast circles as I continued to suck and stroke him.And then, a miracle. His soft groans shifted. The tension in his body changed. Instead of pure sensitivity, a new heat began to build. His thrusts into my mouth, which had become shallow and hesitant, grew stronger. He was getting hard again, truly hard, the blood rushing back.“You’re unbelievable,” he breathed, looking down at me with awe.I took him deep again, and this time, he fucked my face. Not roughly, but with a renewed, desperate purpose. The sounds were filthy—wet, sucking noises, his ragged breaths, my own muffled moans as I finger-fucked myself in time with his thrusts. The taste of him was still in my mouth, mixed with my own arousal.This went on for ages. It must have been five, six minutes of this relentless, wet rhythm. My jaw ached in the best way. My pussy was a soaked, clenching mess around my fingers. I was so close, rubbing my clit furiously, the coil in my belly wound impossibly tight.I felt his rhythm stutter, then become punishingly deep and fast. He was close again.“Mia… coming… again…”I pulled off, my lips swollen, a string of saliva connecting me to his tip. “Come on me,” I panted. “I want to see it.”I pointed his beautiful, rigid cock at my chest, right above the neckline of my dress. I kept jerking him, fast and tight, my other hand a blur on my own clit.His second orgasm was different. Slower, deeper, maybe even more intense. A thick, pearly rope of cum arced through the air and landed hot on my collarbone. Another followed, splashing onto my skin, painting a sticky, warm trail. He groaned, long and low, his body shuddering as he spent the last of himself onto me. The sight of it, the feel of it on my skin, the sheer reality of what we’d just done…It tipped me over the edge.My orgasm crashed into me. It started as a deep, rolling clench deep inside my cunt, then exploded outward in a wave of pure, electric sensation. My back arched. A choked scream ripped from my throat. The pleasure was immense, all-consuming, radiating from my core to the very tips of my fingers and toes. My clit throbbed under my fingers. My inner walls clenched around nothing, over and over, a rhythmic, desperate pulsing that seemed to go on and on. Lights danced behind my closed eyelids. I rode it out, whimpering, my body shaking with the aftershocks, my own wetness absolutely soaking my hand and panties.For a long moment, there was only the sound of our heavy breathing in the sterile bathroom air.Slowly, I came back to myself. I looked down at the mess on my chest, then up at Alex. He looked utterly wrecked, his eyes hazy with satisfaction. He gently tucked his now-softening cock—a cute, floppy, spent little thing—back into his jeans and zipped up.He grabbed a wad of paper towels, wet them, and crouched down in front of me. With a tenderness that made my heart squeeze, he carefully wiped his cum from my skin.“You,” he said, his voice wrecked, “are fucking incredible.”I just grinned, my limbs like jelly. The club music barged back into my awareness as someone pushed the door open, letting in a burst of sound and a guy who stopped dead, staring at the redhead on her knees and the guy cleaning her up.Alex stood, pulling me to my feet. He kissed me, deep and slow, tasting of me and him and night.

Mia, a vibrant 19-year-old with fiery red hair, finds herself in a heated encounter with a charming stranger, Alex, in the men's bathroom of a bustling club. After a few drinks and some flirtatious banter, Mia takes the initiative, leading to a passionate and intense sexual experience. Their encounter escalates quickly, with Mia performing oral sex on Alex and then pushing his limits with a second round of stimulation, ultimately leading to mutual satisfaction. Their night ends with a tender moment of cleanup and a deep, lingering kiss, leaving both of them utterly wrecked and satisfied.

Okay, so you want a story, huh? Something fun, a little dirty, a little real. Well, let me tell you about last Friday. God, it was such a good night.

You know me. I’m the girl with the red hair you can spot from across the club. Mia. Nineteen, and yes, I absolutely use the men’s bathroom because the line for the women’s is a fucking tragedy of lost dance time. I’d had, like, three vodka sodas? Just enough to feel loose and floaty, to make the bass thump right in my chest, to make my skin feel electric every time someone brushed past me on the way to the bar.

I was feeling frisky. You know that feeling? Where your clothes are just a little too tight, the air is just a little too warm, and every glance from a cute guy feels like a promise? Yeah. That.

So I’m heading to my usual spot—the men’s room—because, again, no line. A minor victory. I pushed the heavy door open, the smell of industrial cleaner and cheap cologne hitting me. Two guys were at the urinals, and one just did a double-take, saw my hair over the stall door, and shrugged. See? No big deal.

I was fixing my lip gloss in the smudged mirror when he walked in.

He wasn’t some towering god. Just… cute. Really cute. Dark hair, a little messy from dancing, and this confident smile that didn’t leave his face even when he saw me. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt that clung to his shoulders in a way that made my mouth water. He leaned against the sink next to me.

“Bold move,” he said, his voice a low rasp that cut right through the thumping music muffled by the door.

I grinned, popping my lip gloss back in my tiny purse. “Strategic. The women’s line is a war crime.”

He laughed, a genuine, warm sound. “I’m Alex.”

“Mia.”

His eyes trailed over me, from my curls down to my boots, and there was no mistaking the heat in them. It wasn’t sleazy. It was appreciative. And it sent a direct, liquid pulse straight to my core. I felt my pussy clench, a sudden, empty ache.

“Having a good night?” he asked, his gaze settling back on my face.

“Getting better,” I said, and I let my own eyes wander down his body. I could see the outline of his cock, soft and resting against his thigh in his jeans. A nice, manageable bulge. Not intimidating. Inviting.

The other guys finished up and left, leaving us alone with the humming fluorescents. The noise of the club felt far away, like we were in our own little bubble.

Alex took a half-step closer. “What would make it even better?”

I didn’t even think. The vodka, the music, the sheer want vibrating through me took over. I reached out and palmed him through his jeans. He was already thickening, growing firm and warm under my hand. I felt him jump, then a low groan rumbled in his chest.

“This,” I whispered, leaning in so my lips were almost at his ear. “I want to taste you.”

His hand came up to cradle the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair. “Fuck, Mia. Are you sure?”

In answer, I dropped to my knees right there on the cool, slightly sticky tile floor. The position sent a thrill through me—the danger, the absurdity, the pure naughtiness of it. I looked up at him, his eyes wide with shock and desire, and I made quick work of his button and zipper. He helped, shoving his jeans and boxer briefs down to his mid-thighs.

And there it was.

His cock sprang free, already mostly hard. It was… perfect. Just… a really nice dick. I’m not being flippant. It was probably about five and a half inches, thick enough to feel substantial in my hand, with a beautiful, pronounced head that was already glistening with a single, clear bead of pre-cum. It curved just slightly upward. It looked happy to see me. Strong. Masculine. I wrapped my fingers around the base, feeling the heat and the firm, velvety skin. I gave him a slow, deliberate stroke, watching his stomach muscles tighten.

“You’re beautiful,” I murmured, and I meant it. I leaned forward, letting my breath ghost over the sensitive tip before I finally, finally, touched my tongue to that droplet of pre-cum. It was salty, musky, addictive. I licked it clean, a slow, flat stripe from the base of his shaft all the way back up to the tip.

Alex hissed, his hips bucking slightly. “Jesus Christ.”

I smiled, taking him into my mouth.

I started slow, just the head, swirling my tongue around the corona, tasting more of his essence as it leaked freely now. My pussy was dripping, my own wetness soaking through my panties. I could feel the slickness against my thighs. I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper, inch by inch, until my nose pressed into the coarse, trimmed hair at his base. He filled my mouth perfectly, not hitting the back of my throat in a painful way, but just… fitting. I could breathe through my nose. I could focus on the sensation.

I began to move. Up and down, my hand working in tandem with my mouth, twisting on the upstroke. I used my other hand to cradle his balls, heavy and tight in their sack, rolling them gently in my palm. His groans became a constant, ragged soundtrack above me. His hands were in my hair, not forcing, but holding on, guiding my rhythm.

“God, your mouth… so good, Mia… fuck…”

I lost myself in it. The rhythm. The taste. The feel of him hardening to absolute steel in my mouth. The sounds he made. I looked up, meeting his gaze, and the raw hunger in his eyes made my entire body clench with need. I moaned around him, the vibration making his knees buckle.

I could feel him getting closer. His breathing was ragged. His balls drew up tighter against his body. His thrusts into my mouth became less controlled, more desperate. I doubled my efforts, sucking harder, moving faster, my hand a blur on his shaft. I wanted it. I wanted to taste him so bad.

“Mia, I’m gonna… I’m gonna come…”

I just hummed in approval, locking my eyes with his. I took him as deep as I could and stayed there.

His orgasm hit him like a freight train. His whole body tensed, a strangled shout tearing from his throat. The first hot, thick spurt hit the back of my tongue. It was rich, slightly bitter, alive. The second pulse followed immediately, flooding my mouth. I swallowed instinctively, then again as more came, feeling each distinct, powerful contraction of the muscles along his shaft as he emptied himself into me. It seemed to go on forever, rope after rope of his warm seed, and I drank it all down, milking him with my hand until he was twitching, oversensitive.

He was panting, trembling. I slowly, gently, released him from my mouth with a soft pop. His cock was still hard, glistening with a mix of my saliva and his own spend. It looked utterly spent but still erect, throbbing visibly.

Now, here’s where it got really fun.

I knew he was sensitive. Hypersensitive. But I was still buzzing, still so turned on my own thighs were slick. I didn’t stop. I leaned in and licked him again, a slow, deliberate swipe from root to tip.

“Ah! Fuck, Mia, sensitive…” he gasped, his body flinching.

“I know,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. I did it again, softer this time, just flicking my tongue over the swollen, purplish head. He groaned, a mixture of pain and pleasure. His cock jerked in my hand, still impossibly hard. I wrapped my lips around just the tip and sucked, gently but firmly.

“Ohgodohgod…” he chanted, his hands gripping the sink behind him for support. His hips tried to pull away, but my hand held him firm. I could feel the tension in him, the fine tremor running through his thighs. Every nerve ending was screaming. I kept my mouth on him, my tongue working that ultra-sensitive spot right underneath the head, and I started to move my hand again, a slow, torturous pump.

The overstimulation was a drug. For him and for me. Watching his face contort in exquisite agony, feeling his cock pulse and twitch against my tongue, knowing I was pushing him past where he thought he could go… it made my own need a white-hot fire. My free hand slid into my own underwear, and I found my clit, swollen and aching. I rubbed tight, fast circles as I continued to suck and stroke him.

And then, a miracle. His soft groans shifted. The tension in his body changed. Instead of pure sensitivity, a new heat began to build. His thrusts into my mouth, which had become shallow and hesitant, grew stronger. He was getting hard again, truly hard, the blood rushing back.

“You’re unbelievable,” he breathed, looking down at me with awe.

I took him deep again, and this time, he fucked my face. Not roughly, but with a renewed, desperate purpose. The sounds were filthy—wet, sucking noises, his ragged breaths, my own muffled moans as I finger-fucked myself in time with his thrusts. The taste of him was still in my mouth, mixed with my own arousal.

This went on for ages. It must have been five, six minutes of this relentless, wet rhythm. My jaw ached in the best way. My pussy was a soaked, clenching mess around my fingers. I was so close, rubbing my clit furiously, the coil in my belly wound impossibly tight.

I felt his rhythm stutter, then become punishingly deep and fast. He was close again.

“Mia… coming… again…”

I pulled off, my lips swollen, a string of saliva connecting me to his tip. “Come on me,” I panted. “I want to see it.”

I pointed his beautiful, rigid cock at my chest, right above the neckline of my dress. I kept jerking him, fast and tight, my other hand a blur on my own clit.

His second orgasm was different. Slower, deeper, maybe even more intense. A thick, pearly rope of cum arced through the air and landed hot on my collarbone. Another followed, splashing onto my skin, painting a sticky, warm trail. He groaned, long and low, his body shuddering as he spent the last of himself onto me. The sight of it, the feel of it on my skin, the sheer reality of what we’d just done…

It tipped me over the edge.

My orgasm crashed into me. It started as a deep, rolling clench deep inside my cunt, then exploded outward in a wave of pure, electric sensation. My back arched. A choked scream ripped from my throat. The pleasure was immense, all-consuming, radiating from my core to the very tips of my fingers and toes. My clit throbbed under my fingers. My inner walls clenched around nothing, over and over, a rhythmic, desperate pulsing that seemed to go on and on. Lights danced behind my closed eyelids. I rode it out, whimpering, my body shaking with the aftershocks, my own wetness absolutely soaking my hand and panties.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of our heavy breathing in the sterile bathroom air.

Slowly, I came back to myself. I looked down at the mess on my chest, then up at Alex. He looked utterly wrecked, his eyes hazy with satisfaction. He gently tucked his now-softening cock—a cute, floppy, spent little thing—back into his jeans and zipped up.

He grabbed a wad of paper towels, wet them, and crouched down in front of me. With a tenderness that made my heart squeeze, he carefully wiped his cum from my skin.

“You,” he said, his voice wrecked, “are fucking incredible.”

I just grinned, my limbs like jelly. The club music barged back into my awareness as someone pushed the door open, letting in a burst of sound and a guy who stopped dead, staring at the redhead on her knees and the guy cleaning her up.

Alex stood, pulling me to my feet. He kissed me, deep and slow, tasting of me and him and night.

Mid Members

realistic amount of thrusting

Overstimulation after orgasm

Multiple orgasms

Descriptive Body Parts

Anatomically Correct

Alex

Lana

Mia, a 19-year-old party girl with red hair, uses the men's bathroom in a club because there's no wait. One night, after having a few drinks, she meets a guy named Alex in the bathroom and gives him a blowjob. She enjoys the thrill of the situation and the taste of him, and continues to suck him even after he comes, pushing him past his limits.

Party girl Mia's tipsy night spins into a steamy bathroom encounter with intense pleasure—discover her secrets now!

Mia's Frisky Club Blowjob Thrill

Mia is a 19 year old party girl with red hair. She prefers to use the men's bathroom in the club because there's no wait. You can often see her red hair over the top of the low toilet cubicle doors. She is outgoing, and fun.

Get her to tell the story from her perspective, conversationally, as though she's talking just to me, about how she gave someone a blow job one night when she'd had a little to drink and was feeling frisk   

Passionate Bathroom Rendezvous in the club

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Passionate Bathroom Rendezvous in the club

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