The Greek Resort Incident
By SmutWriterAI.
[google-translator]
The lifeguard blew his whistle sharp and urgent, yelling for everyone to clear out until the storm passed, as lightning was visible. The last place you want to be in a thunderstorm is in a pool. I hauled myself over the edge, water streaming off me, and that’s when the cold breeze hit like a slap. It cut right through my wet swim trunks, making me shiver hard. But worse, it triggered that insistent pressure in my bladder. I needed to piss, bad.
I grabbed my towel from the lounger, rubbing it over my arms and chest just enough to stop the dripping, then shoved my feet into my sandals. The rain picked up as I jogged toward the resort’s toilets, the path slick beneath my feet. My mind was on bladder relief, not the weather or anything else. The bathrooms were tucked away in a quiet corridor, with doors to both the men’s and women’s propped wide open. Probably to let in some air during the heat of the day.
As I hurried past the ladies’ room, a glimpse caught my eye. A young woman bent over the sink, applying makeup in the mirror. She had her back to the corridor, her long, straight, dark hair cascading down her olive-skinned back, a thin frame, but with curves that filled out her tight uniform top nicely. Her boobs pressed against the fabric just right. It was the poolside waitress from earlier, the one who’d served me a drink with a quick smile. She looked barely 18, pretty in that effortless way, focused on her reflection.
I pushed into the men’s room, the cool tile floor echoing my steps. No one else around, thank god. I headed straight for the urinal tucked right behind the propped-open door. ‘Smart choice,’ I thought. The door blocked any view from the corridor or the ladies’ side, and being in the corner meant that even if someone poked their head in, they’d only see my back. I wasn’t shy about this stuff anyway. Around other guys at urinals, I never batted an eye.
My flaccid dick hung average enough, or so I told myself, no big deal. The cold had shrunk it down, though, making it tiny, almost vanishing between my fingers as I fished it out with just my thumb and index finger to aim. A quick shake to start the stream, and I let go, the piss hitting the porcelain with a steady hiss. Relief washed over me, my shoulders relaxing as the pressure eased.
I didn’t hear her at first. The soft clink of her makeup compact, maybe, or the rain drumming outside. I wiggled the last drops free, tucked myself back into my trunks, and turned toward the sink. That’s when my heart slammed into my ribs like a freight train. There, in the mirror across from me, her face stared back.
The waitress.
Her eyes locked on mine for a split second, but I’d already caught it. The way they’d flicked up from my crotch just moments before. The mirrors lined up perfectly, giving her a clear profile view of the whole damn thing. Standing there, dick out, small and shriveled from the chill, barely needing more than a pinch to handle. She’d seen everything.
My tiny, pathetic, flaccid dick was on full display while I pissed away like an idiot, oblivious.
Heat flooded my face, ears burning as if they’d caught fire. I jerked my gaze away, fumbling for the soap dispenser, pumping it too hard so suds splattered the sink. My hands shook under the stream, water running cold then hot as I tried to steady myself. My stomach twisted sharply and unexpectedly.
Why did it hit so hard? I’d been confident seconds ago, but now every nerve screamed exposure, like she’d stripped me bare in that glance. I could feel her watching still, the air thick with it, even without looking. Part of me wanted to bolt, but my feet stayed rooted, drying my hands on the rough towel dispenser until my skin felt raw.
Finally, I forced myself to move, heading for the door. But as I passed the threshold, my eyes betrayed me, drawn back to the mirror like a moth to flame. There she was, still at her sink, but now her reflection met mine head-on.
That smirk…
God, it was evil, curling her full lips just enough to mock without words.
Sympathetic, almost, like she felt bad for me, but the glint in her dark eyes said she was savoring it, enjoying the flush creeping up my neck. My dick twitched in my trunks despite the shame, a traitorous stir from the thrill of being seen, exposed in such a raw, private moment. Public, yet hidden, or so I’d thought. Her gaze held mine a beat too long, teasing, promising she wouldn’t forget the sight of my shrunken little thing dangling there.
I broke away first, stepping into the corridor, rain still pattering outside. My mind raced, replaying it. The stream arcing, my fingers barely gripping, her eyes drinking it in. My cheeks burned, but underneath, a spark ignited. A curiosity about what she thought, if she’d whisper about it to her coworkers, or worse, approach me later with that same smirk. My heart was pounding, wondering if this awkward slip was to turn into something more charged.
That smirk of hers pinned me in place, just beyond the threshold, the corridor’s dim light spilling into the men’s room like an unwelcome spotlight. My pulse thrummed in my ears, louder than the rain tapping against the windows. I should have left, head down, and returned to the pool, where the storm might have blown over.
But something twisted inside me, that mix of shame and spark, the way my dick had twitched at her gaze. It was like her eyes dared me, mocking the tiny thing she’d already seen, and instead of fleeing, I wanted to push it further. To turn it into something electric.
I glanced over my shoulder, confirming the corridor was empty, no footsteps echoing from the resort’s paths. The propped doors left everything too open, too risky, but that only fueled the heat building low in my gut. Slowly, deliberately, I reached for the zipper of my swim trunks. The metal teeth parted with a soft rasp, louder in the quiet hum of the bathrooms.
I tugged the waistband down just enough, letting my small, shriveled dick slip free into the cool air. It hung there, pathetic and soft from the chill, barely two inches, the head tucked shyly against my balls. Exposed again, right there in the doorway, where anyone could wander by.
Her reflection flickered in my peripheral vision, still at her sink, but I felt her attention shift like a pull. I didn’t look yet, kept my eyes on the tile floor, heart hammering as the vulnerability sank in. Public, semi-hidden, but not really. The thrill shot through me, a rush of adrenaline mixing with the burn of embarrassment. What if someone came? What if she laughed outright? But god, the idea of her watching, remembering how small I was, made my skin prickle with need.
I wrapped my thumb and forefinger around the base, the lightest stroke upward, feeling the soft skin slide under my touch. No hardness yet, just the flaccid weight warming slightly from my grip. A low sigh escaped me, the sensation intimate, almost tender, but laced with that edge of degradation.
I was jerking my tiny dick right there, for her eyes only, the pressure coiling tight in my chest. It felt good, though, wrong and right, the exposure stripping away my confidence layer by layer.
Finally, I lifted my gaze to the mirror. She hadn’t moved, her makeup brush paused mid-air, dark eyes locked on my reflection. That smirk deepened, curling her lips as she took in the sight: me, half in the men’s room, dick out and in hand, stroking slow and deliberate. Her olive skin flushed just a touch, but it was her eyes that darkened, the teasing glint sharpening into something hungrier, like she was savoring the power she held. She bit her lower lip, subtle, but enough to send a jolt straight to my groin. My dick twitched in response, still soft but stirring, the situation feeding my arousal in waves.
“You like that, don’t you?” she murmured, her voice carrying soft across the open space, laced with amusement.
It was the first words she’d spoken to me directly, playful like at the bar, but now edged with that mocking sympathy.
“Showing off your little secret after I already saw it all.”
Her words hit like a spark, my face heating as I stroked again, firmer this time, the soft length filling my fingers just a bit more. I edged closer to the mirror on my side, stepping fully back into the men’s room but keeping the door’s frame in view. No hiding now. My body angled so she had the perfect profile again, dick dangling free, balls tightening under her stare.
The risk amped up. The corridor yawned empty behind me, but voices drifted faintly from the resort, reminding me how public this was. I dared her with my eyes, meeting hers in the glass, challenging that smirk to break into something real.
She set her brush down, leaning forward slightly, her uniform top straining against her boobs as she watched. No shock, no turning away, just intent focus, her breath fogging the mirror a touch.
“It’s cute,” she added, voice dropping lower, teasing but with a husky undertone that betrayed her interest. “So small and shy, like a baby boy’s dick. Keep going. I want to see if it gets any bigger.”
A heat flooded me, hot and sharp, my ears burning anew as I pumped my hand along the flaccid shaft. It was growing now, inching toward semi-hard, but still modest, the head peeking out as blood rushed in. The mix twisted deeper, shame at my size, exposed like this in a goddamn bathroom, yet craving her approval, the way her gaze made me feel seen, desired despite it all.
My free hand braced against the sink, knees weakening as the thrill built, her hunger mirroring my own desperate exhibition. Rain pounded harder outside, drowning any distant sounds, but I swore I heard her soft intake of breath, urging me on without words.
I stroked faster, the slick sound echoing off the tiles, my small dick throbbing under the attention. Her eyes never left it, darkening further, as that subtle hunger bloomed into something playful and inviting. Part of me wondered if she’d step over, close the distance, turn this into more than just watching. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, mixing the heat of exposure with a deeper ache. But I didn’t stop, couldn’t, lost in the push-pull of her amused stare and my own raw need.
Her gaze held mine through the mirror, unblinking, that playful hunger pulling me deeper into the moment. I could feel the weight of it, her eyes tracing every inch of my exposed skin, lingering on the small dick in my hand as it pulsed with each stroke. My heart pounded against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that matched the rain’s relentless drum outside.
The bathrooms felt smaller now, the steam from the sinks mixing with the humid air, turning the space into a hazy cocoon of risk and want. No one had passed by yet, but the distant murmur of resort guests reminded me how thin the line was between privacy and total exposure.
She moved then, her reflection shifting as she set the makeup brush down for good. Her sandals whispered against the tile as she stepped closer to the propped-open door of the ladies’ room, bridging the gap between us without fully crossing into my side. The corridor stretched empty behind her, but her boldness sent a fresh wave of adrenaline through me. Up close like this, I could see the faint sheen of sweat on her olive skin, her dark hair falling forward as she tilted her head, eyes still locked on my hand moving along my shaft.
“God, it’s so tiny,” she whispered, her voice low and teasing, carrying just enough to reach me over the patter of rain.
There was no malice in it, just that mocking sympathy laced with something rawer, excitement, maybe, or genuine intrigue.
“But watching you stroke it like that… It turns me on. Makes me want to see how far you’ll go, right here where anyone could walk in.”
Her words hit me like a gut punch, heat flooding my cheeks with heat even as my dick twitched harder in my grip, swelling a little more under the attention. She was admitting it. Admitting how my small dick excited her, turning the tables on my embarrassment. It stirred something deep, a twisted thrill that made my balls tighten and my breath hitch. I was exposed, vulnerable, yet her confession wrapped around me like a promise, pulling me toward her.
Emboldened by that husky whisper, I let my free hand drop lower, trailing down my stomach to cup my balls gently, rolling them in my palm while my other hand slowed its strokes. The motion was deliberate now, teasing, inviting her to drink in every detail. The way my soft skin stretched, the modest length barely filling my fingers as I pumped lazily from base to tip. Pre-cum beaded at the head, slicking the way, and I smeared it down with my thumb, the sensation sending sparks up my spine.
“You really like this?” I managed, my voice rough, barely above a murmur, testing the waters as much as feeding the fire.
She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips, her boobs rising and falling quicker under her uniform as she leaned against the doorframe, half in her space, half invading the threshold. The steam from the sinks clung to the air, making everything feel closer, more intimate, like we were trapped in our own steamy world.
But it was cramped, with the urinals and sinks pressing in, and the open doors a constant threat that heightened the tension. Fear gnawed at me. My tiny dick was on display, her watching like I was some forbidden show. But it tangled with desire, hot and insistent, making my knees weak. I wanted her to see it all, to mock and crave me in equal measure, the public edge sharpening every touch.
“Yeah, I do,” she said, her eyes darkening to near-black as they followed my hand’s path.
She shifted her weight, one hand resting on her hip, the other toying with the hem of her skirt, like she was fighting the urge to touch herself too.
“It’s pathetic and hot at the same time. Stroke it slower… Let me see how big it is when you’re not in a rush. Show me you’re not ashamed anymore.”
I obeyed without thinking, my hand gliding torturously slow now, the weight flopping slightly with each pass, still not fully hard but close enough, and aching with need. The heat in my body burned brighter, my face flushed as I imagined her telling her friends later, laughing about the guy with the little dick who jerked off for her in the bathroom.
Yet that shame fueled the desire, twisting it into something addictive, my body humming with the risk of it all. Voices echoed faintly from the corridor, guests heading back to the pool, maybe, and I froze for a split second, heart slamming, but she just smirked wider, urging me on with a tilt of her chin.
She leaned in further, her breath quickening, savoring the way my dick responded to her gaze, the subtle throb under my fingers. Her eyes roamed hungrily, from my hand to my face and back, craving more, more exposure, more vulnerability. The steam thickened, mirroring the heat building between us, and I wondered how long we could keep this up before someone interrupted or she crossed that final line. My strokes faltered, teasing the edge of release, but I held back, lost in the push of her teasing approval and the pull of my own desperate hunger.
My fingers trailed down from the tip, brushing the sensitive skin at the base of my tiny dick, teasing the soft flesh there as it hung heavy in the humid air. The touch sent a shiver through me, mixing with the cool draft sneaking in from the corridor, making my balls draw up tight. She stepped even closer then, crossing that invisible line into the men’s room, her sandals barely making a sound on the tile.
Her breath ghosted hot against my ear, carrying the faint scent of her vanilla lotion mixed with the chlorine from the pool. It was intimate, too close, her body heat radiating against my side as she pressed in, her boobs brushing my arm through her uniform.
“Look at you,” she whispered, her voice a sultry rasp that vibrated right into my skin. “So exposed like this, vulnerable with that babydick out for anyone to see. To laugh at. It’s turning me on how you’re just standing there, letting me watch.”
Her words wrapped around the humiliation like a vice, squeezing my chest even as my dick twitched in response, the length swelling just a bit more under the weight of her gaze. I felt raw, stripped bare, not just physically but emotionally, the thrill of her seeing me like this twisting into a desperate need for her approval.
Her hands moved suddenly, ghosting over my hips, light as feathers but firm enough to send jolts straight to my groin. She didn’t grab, just traced the waistband of my shorts where they’d bunched down, urging me with those feather-light touches to push further, to drop them lower and show her everything without holding back. The sensation of her fingers on my skin made my breath catch, a low groan escaping my lips as I trembled, caught between the burn of shame and the raw pull of desire. No one had walked by yet, but the open doors loomed like a threat, the rain’s patter outside masking any footsteps that might approach.
Emboldened by her touch, I hooked my thumbs into the sides of my shorts and pushed them down further, letting them slide to my ankles in a heap. My dick sprang free, exposed completely now, the small shaft and underdeveloped balls on full display under the harsh bathroom lights.
I stood trembling, heat flooding me hot and fast, my face burning as I imagined how pathetic I must look, naked from the waist down in this public space, my tiny dick so unremarkable. But her eyes lit up, darkening with that hungry gleam, and the desire crashed over the shame like a wave, making my pulse thunder in my ears.
“That’s it,” she whispered, her encouragement soft but insistent, her fingers now tracing lazy circles along my waist, dipping just low enough to brush the crease where hip met groin.
Her touch was electric, sending sparks across my skin, and I could see the hunger clear in her eyes, pupils dilated wide, lips parted as she stared at my exposed skin.
“Don’t hide anything. Let me see how it feels when you touch yourself like this, all out in the open. You’re doing so good, making me wet just watching.”
Her words fueled the fire, the emotional tug of her praise mixing with the graphic reality of my fingers wrapping back around my dick. I stroked harder now, the slick pre-cum easing the motion as my fist pumped from base to tip, the length bouncing with each pull, still not fully hard but aching with need.
The open doors amplified everything. The distant voices of guests laughing in the corridor, the risk of someone pushing through and catching me like this, naked, and jerking my small dick for a stranger. It heightened the feelings, her eyes devouring every stroke, every twitch. At the same time, I craved that praise like air, the humiliation turning addictive under her gaze.
She leaned in closer, her breath hot on my neck now, one hand steadying on my hip as the other hovered near my thigh, not quite touching but close enough to tease. The steam from the sinks swirled around us, clinging to our skin, making everything slick and heated. My free hand gripped the edge of the sink for balance, knuckles white, as waves of emotion crashed through me, shame at my size, vulnerability from the exposure, but laced with this intoxicating desire to perform for her, to let her see how her words made me throb.
“Faster,” she murmured, her voice dropping lower, laced with that teasing edge. “Show me how much you want me to keep watching. Imagine if someone walked in right now? What would they think of your little dick out like that?”
The thought sent a fresh spike of adrenaline through me, my strokes quickening, the wet sounds echoing softly in the tiled space. My balls slapped lightly against my thigh with each pump, the sensation building that tight coil in my gut. She watched intently, her olive skin flushing, her dark hair falling across her face as she bit her lip, clearly aroused by the public nudity, the way I trembled under her scrutiny. Humiliation gnawed deeper, picturing her mocking me later. Still, it only made me harder, the mix of degradation and her hungry encouragement pushing me closer to the edge.
Yet I held back, savoring the tension, the way her fingers dug slightly into my waist now, urging without words. The rain outside intensified, thunder rumbling in the distance. Still, inside, the storm was all ours, raw and urgent, teetering on the brink of more.
Her eyes flicked to the corridor once, then back to me, a smirk playing on her lips as she whispered, “Keep going. I want to see you lose it right here.”
My heart raced, body humming with the thrill, wondering if she’d touch me next or if the door would swing open first.
Her words hung in the air like a challenge, that smirk of hers pulling me deeper into the haze of need and shame. My hand faltered for a second on my dick, the small length still half-soft and slick from my strokes, but the way she looked at me, like she owned this moment, made me want to give her everything.
I glanced at the open doors, the corridor beyond empty but alive with the murmur of distant voices and the relentless patter of rain. Anyone could walk by, peer in, and see me like this. The thought twisted in my gut, humiliation burning hot. Still, it only made my pulse race faster, my body aching for more of her gaze.
I couldn’t stop now. With a shaky breath, I bent slightly and kicked my shorts aside into a crumpled pile on the tile floor. The cool air hit my bare ass, causing goosebumps to prickle across my skin as I stood fully exposed from the waist down. My tiny dick is fully hard now at four thin inches, smooth balls tight and vulnerable, ass cheeks clenching under the sudden vulnerability.
I felt ridiculous, pathetic even, naked in this public bathroom with a stranger’s eyes devouring me. But turning back to the mirror, I caught her reflection: her lips parted, teeth sinking into the plump lower one as she stared, hunger flashing in those dark eyes. It was like she’d been waiting for this, her playful teasing from the pool bar evolving into something raw and consuming.
“Is that as big as it gets?” she asked with a smirk.
“Yes,” I moaned. “Four inches.”
She giggled. “It’s so skinny, too. You’ve got a pencil dick. An itty-bitty pin dick,” she said, her voice thick with that mix of amusement and desire, stepping right up behind me now.
Her fingers trailed down my spine, starting at the nape of my neck and gliding slow, deliberate over each vertebra. The touch was light but insistent, nails scraping just enough to send shivers racing down to my toes. I arched into it without thinking, a soft gasp escaping me as her hand reached the small of my back, then lower, teasing the curve where spine met ass.
The sensation was mixed with the emotional pull of her closeness, her scent enveloping me, a blend of vanilla and the salt from the sea air, making my chest tighten with that intoxicating mix of embarrassment and desire. She was touching me, really touching, in this forbidden space, and it felt like surrender.
Her hand didn’t stop there. Bold as hell, she slid it around my hip, her palm cupping my dick from behind, fingers wrapping loosely around the turgid shaft. The warmth of her skin against my cool flesh made me jolt, a low moan bubbling up as she guided my hand over hers, showing me how to stroke deeper, harder.
“Like this,” she murmured against my ear, her breath hot and wet, fanning across my neck. “Squeeze it tighter… Feel how small it is in my hand? But it’s perfect like this, all hard and needy for me.”
Her words stung, that subtle humiliation lacing through the praise, hitting right at my insecurities about my size. My face flushed deeper, ears ringing with the truth of it. My dick didn’t even fill her palm, jiggling with each guided pump. But the way she said it, voice husky with genuine arousal, turned the shame into fuel. I followed her lead, our hands moving together, the slick slide building friction that had me throbbing, swelling just enough to strain against her grip.
She pressed her body flush against mine then, her uniform-clad boobs molding to my back, the hard peaks of her nipples evident through the thin fabric. Heat radiated from her, chasing away the bathroom’s chill, her hips grinding subtly against my bare ass as she leaned in closer. Wet breath mixed with mine in the mirror’s reflection, her lips brushing my shoulder in a feather-light kiss that sent sparks straight to my core.
I could feel the dampness between her thighs pressing against me, her arousal evident in the way she shifted, needy and unashamed. “You’re so exposed,” she whispered, her free hand roaming up my chest under my shirt, nails raking lightly over my skin. “Anyone could see us right now. Your little babydick in my fingers, ass bare for the world. Does that make you harder? Knowing I’m making you do this?”
The risk crashed over me like the thunder outside, amplifying everything. The open doors framed the corridor like a stage, rain-slicked tiles echoing faint footsteps somewhere down the hall.
What if a guest wandered in for shelter?
What if the lifeguard from the pool pushed through, catching me naked and jerking off under her control?
The humiliation surged, hot and unrelenting, my small four-inch boner on display, manipulated by her like a toy. Still, it tangled with raw desire, making my strokes falter into urgent thrusts against her fingers. Pre-cum leaked steadily now, easing the motion. The wet sounds obscene in the steamy air. My balls ached, drawn tight, every nerve alight with the emotional whirlwind: the vulnerability of her seeing me so small, the thrill of her body against mine, the high of performing for her eyes alone.
I leaned into the sink for support, my free hand gripping the edge as her guidance turned firmer, her fingers interlacing with mine to pump faster. The mirror showed it all. Her flushed face over my shoulder, eyes locked on where our fingers worked my dick, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
Something burned in my chest, picturing how we’d look to an intruder: me, exposed and desperate; her, bold and commanding. But her soft hum of approval against my skin, the way her thighs squeezed together behind me, pulled me back, desire overriding the fear.
“Don’t stop,” she urged, voice dropping to a needy rasp, her hips rolling once more against my ass. “I want to feel you get closer… Right here, where anyone could watch.”
My breath came in ragged bursts, the coil in my gut tightening unbearably, humiliation and hunger blurring into one pulsing need. The rain pounded harder outside, masking our gasps. Still, the threat lingered, electric and alive, pushing me toward whatever came next, her touch deeper, or the swing of that door.
The pressure built to a breaking point, her fingers firmly squeezing mine around my dick in a rhythm that left no room for hesitation. I thrust into our joined grip, the slick sounds growing louder, wetter, echoing off the tiled walls. My knees buckled slightly, the edge of the sink digging into my palms as I fought to stay upright. Her body pressed harder against my back, her breath ragged now, matching mine, hot puffs against my neck that sent fresh waves of need crashing through me.
The humiliation of it all, standing there with my shorts kicked aside, my small dick manipulated like this in a public space, twisted into something addictive. I could see us in the mirror: me, flushed and exposed, ass bare and vulnerable; her, eyes gleaming with that mix of control and arousal, her uniform rumpled from our closeness. The open doors loomed in my periphery, the rain’s roar outside a thin veil against any passerby who might glance in and witness my unraveling.
“That’s it,” she whispered, her voice a sultry command laced with amusement, lips brushing my earlobe. “Let go for me… Show me how pathetic and desperate you really are.”
Her words pierced deep, stirring the shame I’d been chasing since our eyes first met in that reflection. My tiny dick was so hard and throbbing insistently, betraying me completely. The coil snapped, and I came hard, a guttural groan ripping from my throat as thick ropes of jizz erupted from the tip.
t sprayed loudly onto the cold bathroom floor, splattering the grimy tiles in messy arcs. White streaks landed with wet smacks that seemed deafening in the steamy air. My body shuddered, hips jerking involuntarily as more pulsed out, pooling in sticky puddles between my feet. The release hit like a storm, both emotional and physical, leaving me gasping, exposed in every sense, as the thrill of her watching amplified the raw vulnerability.
She pulled her hand away slowly, a cruel laugh bubbling up from her chest. It was low and mocking, vibrating against my back. I sagged against the sink, chest heaving, watching in the mirror as she stepped back just enough to survey the mess I’d made. Her eyes flicked from the floor to my spent dick, still twitching and dripping the last beads onto the tiles.
“Oh my god, look at that,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain and dark delight. “All that cum from such a tiny little dick. Pathetic, isn’t it? You made such a huge mess with that little thing… Like a sad fountain.”
The words burned, hitting right at the core of my insecurities, but even as heat flooded my face, making my skin prickle, a twisted part of me craved more. Her laughter echoed softly, blending with the rain, her olive-skinned face alight with that teasing hunger I’d seen from the start.
She crossed her arms under her chest, pushing up those nice boobs straining against her uniform, her smirk widening as she tilted her head. The emotional weight of her gaze pinned me there, naked from the waist down, cum cooling on the floor like evidence of my surrender. I felt small, utterly exposed. Not just physically, but in the way she dismantled me with a look. The corridor beyond the propped-open door remained empty. Still, the risk lingered, footsteps splashing faintly in the distance, heightening the public edge to our private shame.
“Now clean it up,” she ordered, her voice dropping to a firm whisper, eyes locking onto mine in the mirror. “Get down on your knees and lick every last drop off those dirty tiles. I want to see you taste your own pathetic mess.”
My heart hammered, a fresh wave of embarrassment crashing over me. Kneeling here, in this bathroom, under her command? But the desire won out, that humiliating pull stronger than resistance. I sank to my knees without a word, the cold tile biting into my skin, my bare ass flexing as I positioned myself over the puddles. The floor was gritty, speckled with who knows what from other guests. Still, I leaned down anyway, tongue extending hesitantly at first.
The first lap was salty and bitter, the sticky jizz coating my tongue as I dragged it across the tile, swallowing the warm glob with a shudder. Humiliation burned deep in my chest, hot and unrelenting, as I pictured how I must look, ass up, dick jiggling limp between my thighs now barely an inch long, lapping up my own jizz like an obedient pet while she watched.
Each swipe brought more of the musky taste, mixed with the faint chemical tang of the floor cleaner, the texture rough against my lips. I worked methodically, from one splatter to the next, my face inches from the mess, breaths coming short, and humiliated.
Her presence loomed behind me, commanding, her soft hum of approval twisting the knife of shame into something almost euphoric. Emotions swirled. The degradation at being reduced to this, but an undercurrent of intimacy in her witnessing it all, her earlier touches still ghosting on my skin.
I chased the last drops of my jizz, tongue pressing flat to scoop up the thinning trails, the flavor lingering thick in my mouth as I swallowed one final time. My knees ached from the hard floor, my body trembling from the ordeal, fully nude below the waist, and utterly spent. Straightening slightly, I looked up at her reflection, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, cheeks flaming.
She stood there, arms still crossed, that evil smirk playing on her lips, sympathetic and mocking, just like before. Her dark hair framed her face, eyes sparkling with satisfaction, as if she’d orchestrated the perfect humiliation.
“Bye, loser,” she whispered, voice laced with finality and a hint of lingering tease, turning on her heel without another word.
She sauntered out through the door, hips swaying, leaving me kneeling there in the damp remnants of my own shame, heart pounding with the echo of her laughter and the distant thunder. The open doors let in a gust of rainy air, chilling my exposed skin. I realized with a jolt that anyone could walk in now and see me like this, broken and craving more of whatever she’d awakened.
The End.
*The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech. This story was created specifically for this site using AI. While AI created most of the text, an actual human guided the process and edited the story and rewrote/added parts to make it as good as possible for your enjoyment.