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I Can’t Stop F*cking My Boyfriend in Public Restrooms

For longer than I’d like to admit, sex was a bedroom-only activity for me. I’d do it in my bed, on the floor, and sometimes bent over my desk if I was feeling kinky enough. But I’ve recently ventured into new sexual territory of public restrooms, and I can’t get enough.

It happened for the first time a few months ago. My boyfriend and I were on a vacay with friends, and let’s just say the cabin walls were thin. Very thin. So thin, it would have been impossible for us to have sex without my BFF hearing my orgasm.

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So that weekend, when we all went to an art gallery, my man and I were hornier than ever. We made eyes at each other and I immediately thought, Wait, bathroom. It seemed like the go-to move, as it was really the only “private” place around. He thought the same thing.

I shuffled into the basement-level women’s restroom and checked underneath the stalls for other feet. When the coast was clear, I texted him and he quickly followed behind.

Overtaken by the moment, we turned the lock on a stall and thrust ourselves against the shaky metal door, fully clothed and kissing. Our hands ran down each others’ chests until we realized any museum-goer or employee passing by could see our feet.

That’s when we scooted back, and I took initiative. With my shoes still on, I took my pants off and straddled my boyfriend as he sat on the toilet. He pulled his bottoms to the ground with his zipper dangling on the floor. I put my legs up in the air and let my feet bounce off the tiled wall behind him for leverage. (Complicated, I know.)

My boyfriend pulled me in with two arms crossed around my back while I spelled “coconut” with my hips (yes, ladies, it’s A Thing). And as the thrusting got faster, I dug my nails into his back harder. He moaned, I moaned, and for a moment, his hand wrapped around my mouth to quiet me down—which, NGL, made things even sexier.

It was a close and steady kind of sex, heightened by nerves, passion, and a tinge of fear.

We did have some hiccups though. Like, around five minutes into our hump session, my knee hit the wall and made a super-loud noise. Oh, and the auto-flush blew water on my boyfriend’s bare ass twice.

And of course, because this was a public restroom and all, one person did walk in while we were, you know, banging each other right next door. But luckily the static-y sound of skin-to-skin contact was cloaked by running sinks, hand dryers, and one very loud woman on the phone.

So in the end, the rush and thrill of it all was totally worth it. And we never got caught.

My boyfriend and I have since explored bathrooms in other art galleries, a TJ Maxx, and even an amusement park. And in my ~experience~ I’ve learned a few things.

For one, we keep our sexcapades exclusive to a women’s bathroom—and only a women’s bathroom. Not only do I think it would it be less awkward to be caught by a woman than a man, but it’s also just a lot cleaner. This brings me to my next point: I choose bathrooms with ample soap, paper towels, and toilet paper. Museums, department stores, and some restaurants are usually a go. Gas stations are not.

And as the last and final extra precaution we’ve mastered against getting caught, only one of us rests our feet on the floor during the act. It really is that easy.

Now I know what you’re thinking, and yes, sure, bathroom sex may seem gross. It’s definitely not an activity for the faint of heart or anyone who gets the ick in a public restroom.

But the hard truth is that bathrooms have always been—and will always be—a little grimy. In my eyes, being in close quarters on the toilet with my partner while getting down doesn’t really add to the disgustingness, as long as I wash my hands and mask up once the deed is done.

And before you judge, don’t forget that cell phones are 10 times as dirty as toilet seats, and cleaning supplies are built into the structure of the very places where I spice things up.

If you can get past the grimy seats and the plastic toilet paper holders, it’s an unforgettable orgasm—take it from someone who knows personally. There’s just something about the rush of doing it in the bathroom that gets me going. Try it for yourself and you’ll see what I mean.

*Name has been changed.


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