Sex in a restaurant bathroom with two strangers

The clink of wine glasses and the murmur of business talk blurred into white noise. I swirled my third Chardonnay, my stilettos tapping impatiently under the table. Lucas, my husband, was deep in conversation with some investor about stocks—or was it golf?—his hand occasionally patting my knee like I was a well-trained pet. God, kill me now.

That’s when I noticed them. Two waiters—boys, really—lingering by the kitchen door. Early twenties, tousled hair, sleeves rolled up to show forearms still lean but corded with muscle. One had a smirk that didn’t belong in a five-star restaurant; the other kept glancing at me, quick but deliberate, like he was memorizing the way my dress clung to my thighs.

I crossed my legs slowly, letting the slit in my emerald-green dress fall open just enough. The bolder one—Marcel, his nametag said—licked his lips.

“Another drink, ma’am?” His voice was all false politeness, but his eyes dropped to my cleavage.

I held his gaze. “Only if you make it strong.”

Lucas didn’t even look up.

Five minutes later, I “excused myself” to the restroom. The hallway was dim, the noise of the dining room fading behind me. Then—footsteps. I turned. Both of them. Marcel and his quiet friend, Javier, blocking the narrow corridor.

“Lost?” Marcel grinned, stepping closer.

I leaned against the wall, my heart pounding. “Maybe. You boys offering directions?”

Javier’s hand brushed my waist. “We know a private spot.”

The ladies’ room was empty, thank God. The second the lock clicked, Marcel pinned me against the sink, his mouth hot and greedy on mine. Javier’s hands were already under my dress, ripping my thong aside. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he growled.

I gasped as Marcel yanked my dress down, my breasts spilling free. “Someone’s been dreaming about this,” he muttered, sucking a nipple hard enough to bruise. I moaned, arching into him, while Javier dropped to his knees, his tongue lashing my clit without warning.

“Oh God—” My fingers tangled in Javier’s hair as he ate me like he was starving, his thumbs spreading me wider. Marcel unzipped his pants, his cock slapping against my thigh. “You wanna taste both of us, sweetheart?”

I did. Desperately.

The next minutes were a blur of skin and panting. Marcel fucked my mouth, his grip tight in my hair, while Javier drove into me from behind, the sink’s edge digging into my hips. The mirror fogged with our breath, my red lips stretched around Marcel’s shaft, Javier’s thrusts making me scream around it.

“Such a good little wife,” Marcek taunted, pulling out to cum across my tits. Javier wasn’t far behind, filling me so deep I felt it drip down my thighs.

They left me there, disheveled and dripping, lipstick smeared like a crime scene. I straightened my dress, my legs shaking. Back at the table, Lucas finally glanced up. “You took forever.”

I sipped my wine, smiling. “Traffic.”