Locked doors and automatic hand dryers

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November 26, 2012 by E.

By Thursday, the fifth night of the cruise, A. and I were practically out of options.  The Serenity Lounge was great for seclusion and a little romance fondling, but it wasn’t exactly the place where we could have the kind of wild sex we demanded from each other.

Thankfully, earlier that day, I had made the absolutely genius observation that doors to the bathroom on the top deck, just around the corner from the Serenity Lounge, did in fact lock.   That’s right.  The entire woman’s bathroom, with four stalls, three sinks, and ample counter space, could be locked securely from the inside.  Perfect.

Late that night, A. and I made our way, alone and unchaperoned, to that particular location. From what I could tell, all the public bathrooms on the ship could be locked from the inside (why, I have no idea), but A. and I both agreed that the Serenity Lounge bathrooms would be the most secluded.  There, a fellow passenger was less likely to find the door locked and alert a crew member hovering helpfully nearby.

After a few days of pent-up sexual tension, sex in the locked bathroom was, to put it mildly, fiery and turbulent.  I was shoved against cold tile walls.  I sat on the counter and wrapped my legs around his waist while he pushed me back into the sink faucets.  There were bruises on my thighs and lower back for days, and I loved the lingering reminders of our sex.

It must have been during the second round when someone tired to use the restroom.  I’m not sure if we were being particularly quiet (most likely we were trying but not succeeding), but we were alert enough to hear a woman approach the restroom.  Both of us froze, mid thrust, and hoped she would try once, shrug her shoulders, and continue on to the next women’s bathroom.  Not quite.  This woman was persistent.  She would not be so easily persuaded to walk 50 feet to the next restroom.

After 2 or 3 good, solid shoves (the door was deadbolted and unimpressed by her efforts), she called over her friend/boyfriend/husband.  They were perplexed.  Maybe the toilets were broken?  Maybe the bathroom had flooded?  But why wasn’t there an out of order sign?  Strange, strange, strange.

A. and I, had been practically holding our breaths for their entire discussion, not daring to move.  Finally, at long last, the couple began to move off in search of another option.  Letting out a sign of relief, I leaned back, resting my hands behind me on the counter.  My actions immediately set off the WWWWRRRRRROOORRRRRR of the electric hand dryer, causing me to jump in alarm; if A. hadn’t been standing in front of me, I would have fallen off the counter.  Thankfully, the couple didn’t return to “our” restroom, because after a moment of stunned silence, A. and I burst out laughing.

We of course regained our composure and successfully completed round 2 before sneaking away from that bathroom.  Even today, I cannot use an electric hand dryer without enjoying a secret smile.

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