Sex in Restaurant Loo

Mid-martini, I tasted the ocean's brine,
Swallowed oysters and salt with Max, this time,
He reached beneath the table, up my thigh,
Further north, further still, to my surprise.

As he told a story ‘bout Grazied jackets,
Distracted nods my only ticket,
His fingers feathered my trembling limbs,
Electrifying all my senses within.

Unable to still my aching yearning,
I excused myself, almost without warning,
“Max, I need to go to loo,” I uttered,
Anticipation fueling every flutter.

Uncertain stalls, yet he followed me with haste,
Max on his knees, lowering my waist,
Kissing me, tongue delving deep inside,
The sensation so raw, I couldn't hide.

By the time he clapped his hand on my lips,
My body burnt with passion's fiery wicks,
I didn't let go as his fingers I nibbled,
Until he finished, and I felt euphoric ripples.

A week later, another dinner with friends,
But I knew this bathroom held the perfect bends,
Max’s message, “Go to the bathroom. Now.”
My whole body trembled, I couldn't allow.

Once inside, he stripped me bare,
Lifting me up, against the stall's back in a dare,
My legs around his hips, the door rattling,
His touch entrancing, every sense unraveling.

As he finished, I felt complete,
Nothing else mattered, not the need to compete,
We fixed each other up, hiding our furtive act,
Giggling, we re-emerged and aced the act.

Our tongues ready for the next delicious dish,
Wine, mussels and sourdough plates, pure bliss,
But we had already tasted something sublime,
Before any meal, we always profited from our time.