I leaned back on the toilet now that my body was starting to respond to me. I leaned back against the tank and took a deep breath. The swirling emotions and sudden changes in mood were a bit disorienting. I stared down at my lap. I saw my now flaccid cock, slightly reddened from my experience, lying limp against my thigh. There it was, the source of my problems. I reached down gently and cupped it in my hands. This was the thing that kept me trapped inside my own walls. I didn’t understand this part of my body. I didn’t understand my body in general. It had the power to make me feel that transcendent pleasure I’d had just a few minutes before but also the source of my isolation. My body was so mysterious and confusing, I could never really tell what it wanted or needed. I just knew that it was hateful to others and deeply conflicting to me.
It seemed that I understood less about my body even that the person who’d just given me so much pleasure. She seemed to know how to get pleasure from my body. She understood how I worked even if I didn’t. That idea flashed in my mind like a 1, 000 watt bulb. She could clearly sense, even just through our limited contact, the things I needed to feel comfortable and right inside of my own skin. What if, through that connection, she could teach me something, anything about how to find harmony within myself? I just felt an overwhelming need to talk to her. Not like before, when the wash of sexual release was still on me, when I wanted to run out naked and kiss her. Now, I just wanted to ask her what she understood about my body, so that I could understand it for myself. I know that doesn’t make sense, but it felt so strong and so right. She had made me feel truly happy for a brief moment in time, she had to have some insight into the sensual contradiction of my body, or maybe bodies in general. For a brief moment she had made me forget about my walls. Not ignore them or wish them away like I had in other risky situations, but forget they existed at all. I needed to learn the key to understanding myself, and she held it.
I stood up and quickly started to put my clothes back on. I was already rationalizing this decision to myself and make myself believe that his was not a breach of my protective barrier. I was just going to find this woman and speak with her, try to see if she had some knowledge that would help me to understand my own body and my desires. I wouldn’t reveal who I was; there would be no way for her to know. And while I would be breaching the rules of the glory hole, I promised myself it was just this one time and it was to protect the glory hole as a place where I went for pleasure. If I let this woman get away without knowing what she knew about my body, then I’d never enjoy this place as well again. Plus, because I would never let the woman know who I was, it wasn’t like anyone would know I was breaking the rule. I knew I was rationalizing, but I didn’t care.
I was dressed in record time and opened the door to the stall and ran out of the bathroom. There was still no clerk in the pet shop and, in fact, the entire place was open. There was no evidence of the girl I’d throat-fucked in the bathroom. I looked out the window and did not see her in the parking lot. I tried to think how long I’d been in the bathroom since she’d close the door and left. It had to be at least five minutes, probably a good deal more. There was a very good chance she was already gone. For a second I was upset, then I realized it might not have done much for my anonymity to have run into her as I walked out of the bathroom.
I went outside, trying to distance myself from the pet shop. Once I was outside I felt better, I could pretend I came from somewhere else. It was started to get dark outside and I gazed around the parking lot. There weren’t a lot of cars there and I didn’t see anyone walking around. I walked down the strip mall, looking into stores and checking to see if anyone was there. I looked into cars that I thought might have people in them. And with each passing step I got more and more disheartened.
Finally, after scouring the parking lot and the walkable areas around it for nearly 45 minutes I realized the futility of my search. There was just absolutely no way she was still there. She’d gotten in her car and was on her way somewhere else while I was still panting naked in the bathroom. And what if I had found her? My rationalizations started to fall apart. What would I have asked her? How could I have protected my anonymity? How could I break the rules that had protected me so well in the glory hole? I gave up my search and told myself I was lucky that it hadn’t succeeded.
I looked at my watch and saw that it was well past seven o’clock. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten since noon. It would be a bit of a drive back to my house. I was tired, hungry, and I needed a drink. I decided I would dart into the bar in front of the pet shop and get a quick snack and a glass of wine before I went home.
I trudged across the now dark parking lot and felt a crushing sadness hanging over me. I couldn’t really explain it. I’d just had the best sexual experience of my life (not a particularly great list, but hey, this blew everything else out of the water), but I felt no joy. I felt more isolated and disgusting than ever.
It was warm and bright in the bar, it was more of a restaurant that a bar I guess. I pointed to the bar and the hostess just nodded. It was crowded with suburbanites that were blowing off some steam after a hard days commute. I found one seat over in the corner and sat down. The bartender was extremely busy, so I resigned myself to waiting. I tried to make myself look as unwelcoming as possible: bars tended to bring out come-ons. I sighed and looked up at the television over the bar. It was showing an ad for sexy lingerie, the camera almost zooming in to the smooth, tight area between the models legs. I looked down quickly, focusing on my shoes.
“Hey,” a voice said a few minutes later, “The bartender is absolutely swamped. My name is Michele, I am the waitress for the bar area. I can take care of you instead.” The voice was a light, cheerful girlish thing.
I was staring down at the waitresses small feet, clad in comfortable sneakers. My eyes slowly started to run up her body. She had very thin, almost girlish legs with slightly knobby knees and trim, tightly muscled thighs. She was wearing leggings under a skirt and I saw that, despite her small legs, her hips flared to a good proportion. She was standing sort of to the side of me and I saw her ass sticking out, toned and somewhat large given her small legs, but fitting her womanly hips. She was wearing a very tight polo shirt and I saw that her waist sucked back in after her wide hips. As my eyes traveled further up her body, I saw that stuff into her tight shirt were very large, probably C-cup breasts. They flared out perkily from her narrow waist. I’d never seen a woman with a more striking hourglass figure. The breasts themselves were very round and perfectly proportioned. Her arms were thin, but showed compact muscle. She had narrow shoulders and a long, elegant neck. Her hair cascaded down to her shoulders, a incredibly dark black (likely dyed) that accentuated the extreme paleness of her skin. The skin itself was alabaster. She had a narrow, but not pinched face with a somewhat long and gently upturned nose. Her eyes were extremely large and she had beautiful blue irises. Her face could only be described as stunning. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever see who wasn’t in a movie or on a magazine. But, what really caught my eyes, what I couldn’t look away from, were her lips. They were big, pillowy pink lips. And right above the left side, a stunning beauty mark.