A Bathroom Blowjob

I’d never witnessed a prelude to public sex before Sunday.  Preludes to private sex, yes – but public? Never.

I was at one of those fantastic restaurant/pub deals, and the establishment was almost deserted save for myself, my friend, and a table of loud, rowdy, drunk 20-somethings.  They were doing shots of tequila. 

Odd for a restaurant.  Even odder for a Sunday night. 

However, I once drank myself retarded (and $100 poorer) at a Boston Pizza on a weeknight when I was 19 – so who am I to judge?

One guy was a loud-mouth bastard.  He was obnoxious and vulgar (and not in a good way).  He had an off-putting fratboy quality about him.  He punctuated every sentence with a loud “fuck!”  He believed his stories about benders and epic hangovers to be genuinely enticing (they weren’t special or original).  He bragged about his spending habits (which is never a dignified thing to do). 

However, he had a fan.  She might have been his girlfriend.  I couldn’t be sure.

They didn’t seem particularly cuddly or intimate in that “exclusive couple” kind-of-way.  He didn’t have his arm around her, and she wasn’t leaning into him.  However, when their companions left to go smoke outside, they turned and started kissing. 

Since the restaurant was empty, I could make out parts of their whispered conversation.  I managed to overhear – and I’m paraphrasing – “if we don’t do something about this soon I’m going to have to leave and jerk-off.”

That caught my attention.

I, being of a naturally salacious disposition, strained to over-hear the erotic exchange.  It ended abruptly, with the obnoxious fratboy grabbing the girl’s hand and pulling her towards the washroom.

I started an irritating running commentary at that point.  I told my friend what they were doing and where they were going, and guessed (out loud) at what they’d do in the men’s restroom.

A quickie against a wall?

A blowjob?

Probably a blowjob, we concluded. 

10 minutes (if not less) later, the couple emerged.  The guy was grinning and sweating like a pig.  Well, not like a pig per se – but there was visible moisture upon his brow.  He had an awkward half-erection.  The kind that flops around at half-mast.  He continuously pawed at his balls on his way back to the table.

I think he caught me staring, but I don’t think he cared. 

I suppose that, if I were a loud-mouthed bastard, I’d sneer at those unlucky enough not to receive random oral sex in public washrooms. 

Nothing but a little public copulation to make an ordinary evening that much more memorable. 

On another note, I had two disturbing dreams last night that have plagued me all day.  Both were vaguely sexual, yet extremely telling. I’ll hope for no future encores come nightfall.