The Woman at the Wedding Took Me to the Empty Bathroom

It all happened at the wedding of one of my husband's relatives, one of those long celebrations where you end up smiling more out of obligation than desire. I had really dressed up, in a dark green dress that accentuated my waist and hugged my breasts and ass tightly. More than one person told me I looked beautiful, and I pretended to be modest, although I knew perfectly well that I was turning heads that night.

My husband, as always, settled in with some other men to talk about sports and whisky, happy in his corner, without dancing or paying much attention to me. I like to move, to feel the music, not sit frozen in a chair watching the night go by. So I went to the dance floor alone, a drink in my hand and wanting to work up a little sweat inside that tight dress.

That was when I saw her.

She was a grown woman, perhaps a little younger than me but no kid, one of those women with a blunt confidence in the way they look at you. Dark-haired, short hair, white shirt, fitted black trousers, a thin bow tie at her neck. She had an androgynous air that drew attention without her needing to do anything, and while we danced close together I noticed her watching me with an intensity that made me nervous and, to be honest, also lit something inside me.

After a while, the wine pressed on my bladder and I needed to find a bathroom. Since I didn't know the venue well, I went over to her.

—Excuse me, do you know where the bathroom is?

She smiled without taking her eyes off me.

—Yes. It's at the back, partly hidden. If you want, I'll show you.

Before leaving, I went over to my husband to let him know, but he barely raised his head. He muttered something distractedly and carried on with his conversation. That little gesture left a prick of annoyance in me. I looked smoking hot and he hadn't even noticed.

The woman in the white shirt walked beside me down the hallway and introduced herself as Luciana, a friend of the bride. I gave her another name and another relation to the couple, the basic courtesy exchanged between two strangers. She told me again that I looked very beautiful, this time more slowly, letting her eyes linger on my cleavage for just a second too long. I didn't give her any clever reply; I simply thanked her and kept walking with a strange feeling at the nape of my neck.

The bathrooms on the main floor were impossible, packed with people waiting in line, talking, touching up their makeup, laughing loudly. I was desperate when I saw it.

—Fuck, I can't hold it like this.

Luciana tilted her head toward a side staircase.

—There are others upstairs. I was in that room at another party. It's closed today, but you can get in from behind. There won't be anyone there.

I hesitated for a second. It sounded like a bad idea. But I really needed to piss, and besides, that woman spoke so calmly that I ended up following her. We went up a discreet staircase and reached another floor in semidarkness, with a darkened reception room, empty tables, and the distant echo of music rising from below.

The bathroom was open. I hurried inside, relieved to find it empty. When I turned on the light, she stopped me cold.

—Turn it off.

—What?

—We're trespassing. If anyone sees a light up here, they'll come upstairs. Better in the dark.

I didn't like the idea, but I didn't want to argue either. The music from downstairs was pounding, and the whole place seemed outside of time. I went into one of the stalls, did what I had to do, and when I came out I went over to the sink to fix myself up a little in the minimal light coming in from the hallway.

I saw her in the mirror before I felt her.

She stood directly behind me, so close that her body nearly brushed my back. Then her hands suddenly seized my breasts over the dress, full and firm, as though she'd been wanting to do it for some time.

I jumped and half turned.

—What the hell are you doing?

—What I've wanted to do since I saw you dancing, she murmured beside my neck.

I tried to push her away, indignant and tense, my heart racing.

—Stop. Don't get the wrong idea. I'm married, and this isn't my thing.

But she didn't let go. On the contrary. Her mouth brushed the skin of my neck, and one of her hands brazenly squeezed a tit, kneading it above my cleavage while the other moved down to my waist and then to my ass. There was nothing timid about the way she touched me. It was direct, dirty, commanding.

—Don't bullshit me, she whispered. You've spent the whole night asking someone to look at you.

—I told you to stop.

The threat came out trembling.

—If you don't stop, I'm going to scream.

Luciana pulled back only slightly and held my gaze with brutal calm.

—Scream if you want. With the music downstairs, nobody will hear you. And if someone comes up, I'll say you brought me here to make a pass at me. A drunk lady at a wedding, groping a guest. Let's see who they believe.

I felt a hollow in my stomach. I knew instantly that this bitch had control of the situation and that I was trapped between fear of a scandal and the growing wetness I was beginning to feel between my legs. I wanted to hate her for that. I wanted to push her away. But my body was already reacting.

She kissed me. At first I kept my lips closed, rigid, breathing hard through my nose. She persisted, gently biting my lower lip, then kissing me again, more slowly, while her hands continued traveling over me as though she already knew my body. She squeezed my ass, held me by the waist, and caressed my belly below my breasts. My protest began to break apart not out of conviction, but from pleasure.

—Look at you, she said, pressing her mouth to my ear. You're already trembling.

I didn't answer. I didn't want to give her that satisfaction.

Then she ordered me, in a low, dry voice:

—Take off your dress.

I stared at her in disbelief.

—No way.

Her hand closed around the fabric of my skirt.

—Either you take it off, or I tear it right here.

I believed her. I cursed silently and, with clumsy hands, lowered the zipper. I slipped the dress down over my hips and folded it as best I could on the sink. I was left in a bra and pink panties, exposed before that woman, who looked me up and down without concealing her interest. Her expression changed. Her jaw tightened, as though seeing me like that had stoked her hunger even further.

—Fuck, she breathed. You're so fucking hot.

I wanted to cover my breasts with my arms, but she pushed them away.

She pressed me against the sink again and pulled down one cup of my bra. She freed one breast, then the other, with obscene calm, and immediately her mouth closed over one of my nipples. Her tongue began to circle it slowly, wet and insistent, while her fingers pinched the other until it was hard. The moan escaped me before I could swallow it.

—That's what I like, she murmured without lifting her mouth. Hard and sensitive.

She alternated between my breasts, sucking, licking, and drawing on them greedily. I arched against her, trapped between the marble sink and her body, my legs growing weaker by the second. The fear was still there, but now mixed with unbearable arousal that soaked my panties.

Her hand slid down my stomach and stopped between my thighs. First she stroked me through the fabric, barely brushing my pussy, moving up and down, playing with the wetness that had already seeped through my panties. I closed my eyes. My knees buckled slightly.

—Don't say you don't like it, she whispered in my ear. I can feel it even through the fabric.

My fingers, almost without my realizing it, rose to the nape of her neck and caressed her short hair. It was a small gesture, but she took it as surrender.

—That's it. Let yourself go.

She slipped her hand inside my panties and found my open, slippery, burning lips. Her index finger sank in slowly, then came out, then went back in accompanied by her middle finger. It was a raw, direct jolt of pleasure that tore a loud gasp from me and made me open my mouth. She took advantage of it to kiss me properly, thrusting her tongue into me, swallowing my breath while her fingers began fucking me in rhythm.

I no longer had the strength to pretend to resist. I kissed her back. I grabbed her shirt. I felt her fingers entering and leaving my wet pussy, forcing their way in again and again, curling inside me until they touched the place that made me tremble most. Every time her thumb brushed my clitoris, a shock ran up through my belly.

—That's it, slut, she said between kisses. You were dripping from the start.

Hearing that word embarrassed me and, at the same time, turned me on even more. She fucked me with her hand without any gentleness, the wet smacking of her fingers going in and out, while she bit my neck and sucked my nipples again. I was moaning now without thinking about whether anyone might hear me. The music continued below. Upstairs, only the two of us and that stolen bathroom existed.

—Look at me, she ordered.

I opened my eyes. I saw her watching me with her mouth shining, her expression taut, completely absorbed in what she was doing to me.

—I want to hear you ask for it.

I shook my head, more out of pride than anything else.

She smiled and pulled her fingers out of me. I felt the emptiness, and a thread of liquid slid down my crotch. She brought those fingers to my lips.

—Suck them.

I did. Slowly at first, embarrassed, then hungrily, licking my own taste while never looking away from her. Luciana gave a low laugh.

—Good girl. Now tell me what you want.

My breathing trembled.

—Keep going.

—No. Say it properly.

She squeezed my clitoris with her fingertip and nearly folded me in half with pleasure.

—I want you to fuck me, I finally blurted, broken with desire.

—That's better.

She pushed two fingers back inside me, then a third almost immediately. My pussy swallowed them with an ease that humiliated and aroused me at the same time. The pace increased. These were no longer caresses: she was drilling me with her hand, thrusting deep, pulling out and pushing in, while her other hand held me by the nape to kiss me. My body struck the sink with every thrust of her fingers. My breasts bounced freely. I moaned openly, defenseless, gripping her shoulders so I wouldn't fall.

—More, I begged, hating how desperate I sounded.

—That's what I wanted to hear.

She crouched suddenly. Before I understood what she was doing, she pulled my panties down to my thighs and spread my legs farther apart. Then she grabbed my ass with both hands and buried her face between my thighs. Her tongue brushed my pussy from bottom to top, and my vision nearly went dark.

—Fuck…

Luciana licked me all over, slowly at first, then with more pressure. She opened my lips with her fingers and thrust her tongue between them, seeking my wetness, eating me as if she were feasting. I threw my head back and struck the mirror. I felt her drinking me, licking my clitoris in circles, sucking it, releasing it, then catching it between her lips again.

—Like that… like that… don't stop…

I no longer knew what I was doing or why I still cared about anything. I only felt. I felt her mouth, her hard, hot tongue, the wet sounds of the way she sucked me, the way my thighs trembled on either side of her head. I grabbed her short hair with both hands and pressed myself harder against her face, shameless, needy, completely forgetting that minutes earlier I had been rejecting her.

—You like having your pussy eaten, don't you? she said, pulling away for barely a second.

—Yes… yes…

—Tell me properly.

—Yes, I like it… I love it…

She buried her face again and brought me to the edge in a matter of seconds. She alternated her tongue with two fingers inside me, fucking me from below while sucking my clitoris with cruel precision. My belly tightened. My legs began to give way.

—I'm going to come, I warned, almost frightened by the force with which it was approaching.

She didn't ease up.

—Come in my mouth.

The orgasm burst over her tongue. I moaned so loudly that I had to cover my mouth with my forearm. I came, shaking, my thighs squeezing her head, my pussy contracting around her fingers again and again. Luciana kept licking me through the spasms, unhurried, wringing me out until I was limp and dizzy, half sitting on the sink.

She stood and kissed me. I tasted myself in her mouth. This time I was the one who kissed her eagerly.

***

It should have ended there. I should have gotten dressed, gone downstairs, and pretended nothing had happened. But when I recovered some of my breath, I looked at her and realized that she was still fully dressed, her shirt barely wrinkled, and that I hadn't given her anything in return. That inequality sent a new, different, more conscious pang of desire through me.

I slid one hand down her waist and lower, to the firm bulge showing beneath the crotch of her trousers. It wasn't a cock, of course, but a leather harness with something hard underneath. She smiled when she saw my surprise.

—What are you wearing there?

—Whatever I need to fuck you better, if you behave.

I stared at her, breathing quickly, my panties still caught around my thighs.

—Show me.

Luciana undid her trousers and lowered them just enough. Underneath, she wore a black harness snug around her hips and a short but thick silicone cock that left me speechless. The mere sight of it aroused me all over again. It was obscene, direct, impossible to mistake.

—Tell me you want it inside you.

I didn't answer immediately. I licked my lips. I looked at that artificial cock, then at her face.

—I want it inside me.

—Clearer.

—I want you to fuck me with it.

Her expression hardened with pleasure. She turned me with my back to the mirror and bent me over the sink. I saw my reflection: breasts exposed, dress to one side, panties tangled below, a married woman with her ass raised, waiting for another woman. The image aroused me as much as it embarrassed me.

Luciana pulled my panties all the way aside and spat on her fingers before running them over my clitoris and entrance again. I was so wet she barely needed to prepare me. She caressed my ass, spread my cheeks, and pressed the tip of the harness against my pussy.

—Relax.

She entered slowly at first. I felt the pressure opening me, full and forceful, different from fingers but just as arousing. I gripped the edge of the sink and moaned against the mirror. Once she was inside to the base, she stayed still for a second, enjoying the sight of me impaled on her.

—Look how easily you take it, she said. As if you'd been waiting for it all night.

Then she began to move.

Her thrusts were short at first, controlled, letting my body get used to her. Each forward stroke made me gasp; each withdrawal left me hungry for more. I pushed my ass backward to receive her better. The music below trembled through the floor and mingled with the wet slap of her harness entering and leaving my pussy.

—Harder, I begged.

She didn't make me repeat myself. She grabbed my hip and my hair, bending me farther, and began fucking me in earnest. Her thrusts became hard, steady, deep. My breasts struck the marble sink, my nipples brushed the cold surface, and my moans turned into little cries that I no longer tried to contain.

—That's it, fuck, she said behind me. What an ass, what a pussy, the way you squeeze me.

Every time she drove all the way in, I felt a dull impact in my belly. The harness had no life of its own, but Luciana's hips did, and she knew how to use them. She fucked me hungrily and precisely, thrusting the cock into me again and again while one hand held my waist and the other moved down to find my clitoris.

Touching me there while penetrating me at the same time nearly tore me apart.

—No… I can't hold on…

—Yes, you can. You'll come when I say so.

The way she said it went straight through me. There was something brutally arousing about obeying her. She masturbated me with her fingers while continuing to drive the harness into me. I trembled all over, pushing backward, feeling my pussy close around that silicone cock as if it were flesh.

—Look in the mirror, she ordered.

I did. I saw her clothed body behind mine, her hand on my pussy, my face contorted with pleasure, my lips parted, my neck damp, my breasts bouncing. That sight finally broke me.

—Fuck me harder, I begged, with neither pride nor shame left.

Luciana gave me exactly that. She thrust harder and faster, slamming my body against the sink while rubbing my clitoris in hard circles. The noise between my legs was scandalous. I was soaked, open, undone.

—Like that, slut?

—Yes… yes… like that…

—Who's fucking you?

—You… you…

—And do you like it?

—I love it… fuck…

I came again with the words still in my mouth. This time it was more violent. I felt everything contract inside and out, my knees give way, the orgasm sweep through my entire body while she kept thrusting a few more times to prolong it. I cried out her name and hung from the sink, panting, my pussy pulsing around the cock.

Luciana pulled out slowly and kissed my back. Then she turned me to face her and pressed me against the marble. I was still dizzy, but I still wanted her. I finally undid half her shirt and slid my hands inside, searching for her breasts. They were small and firm, and her nipples hardened as soon as I touched them.

—Now it's my turn, I told her.

She smiled with that insolent calm that drove me crazy.

I gently pushed her toward one of the stalls and sat her on the closed toilet lid. I knelt between her legs and pulled down her trousers and harness farther, exposing her pussy, already wet. She wasn't completely shaved; she had short, well-groomed hair that aroused me because it was real, adult, so far removed from any silly fantasy. I parted her lips with my fingers and began to lick her.

Luciana let out the first moan of the night. A real one, uncontrolled.

I ran my tongue over her clitoris, then her entrance, savoring her slowly. She grabbed my head and guided me, less in control of herself than before. I liked that. I liked seeing her lose her composure. I sucked her clitoris and inserted two fingers, copying the rhythm she had used with me. Her back struck the wall of the stall.

—Fuck… keep going…

I fucked her with my hand while eating her pussy, alternating pressure and tongue, feeling her grow wetter and wetter. She had an intense flavor that made me bolder with every lick. She no longer gave orders. She only moaned and swore under her breath.

—Don't stop… like that…

I inserted a third finger and felt her tighten, wet, open, completely surrendered to my mouth. Then I sucked her clitoris hard and moved my fingers faster. Luciana came with a hoarse growl, closing her thighs around me and trembling on the toilet seat. I kept her there for a few seconds, licking her slowly as she came down from the orgasm.

When I stood, she grabbed me by the nape and kissed me desperately, with no trace left of the coldness she'd shown at the beginning. Her breathing was ragged, and she wore a satisfied smile.

—Now we're even.

We straightened ourselves up as best we could. I pulled up my panties, she adjusted my bra, helped me back into my dress, and slowly zipped it up, raising goosebumps on my skin once again. Then she cleaned me with a wet wipe she took from the inside pocket of her jacket, as if she had anticipated every step from the beginning.

—Your husband will start noticing if you take much longer.

The words hit me like cold water. The wedding, the family, the room downstairs, my ordinary life all came rushing back. But it was too late for regrets. I looked at myself in the mirror, barely touched up, color in my cheeks, my eyes brighter than usual. I looked like the same woman who had come upstairs looking for a bathroom. I wasn't.

Before leaving, Luciana caught me by the wrist.

—If you go downstairs and pretend nothing happened, I'll understand. If you come looking for me on the dance floor in a little while, I'll know you want to do it again.

I didn't answer. I went downstairs alone, my legs still weak and my pussy sensitive with every step. My husband was still at his table, laughing with the others, as oblivious as before. He saw me arrive and barely asked where I'd been for so long.

I looked at him for a second, then looked toward the dance floor.

Luciana was there, among the colored lights, dancing as if nothing had happened, her white shirt immaculate and that half smile I already knew far too well on her lips.

That night, I didn't stay seated.