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The muddy Ford Bronco stopped in front of me, and put on his backup lights, but I had enough room so I swung into the parking space. "Hey, lady!" the driver of the Bronco shouted. No class, I thought, and I slammed the door of my old 280-Z and looked back at the driver as I hurried into the Bay Front Restaurant. He was beautiful! I thought. Tall, dark and build like a comic book hero. It was a shame I had gotten off on the wrong foot with him. If I was horny while I was driving, I was desperate now. My pussy was already wet, and I had to get my hand down there with my finger-feel of my thong bikini or I would go insane. I didn't have time to wait to be seated, so I located the ladies' room and headed straight in that direction. Nobody knows what I'm like when I am horny, and I was horny now -- insane horny. As I snapped open the door to the stall, I saw the urinals and realized I was in the wrong room, but I didn't care. I was wearing running shoes and any man who saw my feet under the stall would think I was a guy in shorts, standing up and peeing. I pulled up on my skirt, pulled down on my thong Bikinis and began to brush my fingers over my shaved pussy, my fingers slipped through the crack, but not plunge into me yet. I was breathing hard and it felt great -- initial relief, but I knew more relief would come. All four fingers were outside my pussy with just the middle and ring fingers slipping into the crack at anytime, and I was feeling better and better, but I was getting out of breath. "So this is it?" said the deep voice, the voice of the man in the Ford Bronco. "Yeah, the stall on the right," said a woman. I was in the one on the left. "You OK in their, pal? I'll be working on the commode here." "Fine," I said, making my voice as deep as it would go. For a moment, I had paused with the movement of my hand, afraid to be discovered. But I soon realized I couldn't stop what I was doing. I was breathing hard and audibly. "Go, baby, go," the plumber said. "What?" I said, forgetting to disguise my voice. "What ever you're doing sweetie, just keep doing it. You got your fingers in the crack yet?" "I don't know what your talk . . . talk . . . talking about," I said, out of breath, but I had already slipped the middle and ring finger into the crack. I was gathering wetness, coming all the way up, stroking my clit as I wet my fingers. "Right," he said. I heard the sound of tools on metal as he worked on the commode in the stall next to me. "You should have let me know what you wanted. I would've fucked you," he said, his voice rich and soothing. They were all the words I needed -- two, three, all four of my fingers plunged into my pussy. My hand was cupped and my four fingers were pushed together in a circle-square that felt like a thick cock. I moved my fingers hard in and out, sometimes pushing my thumb in with them. I was beginning to breath harder and harder and not to give a damn about the plumber in the next stall. I grunted audibly. "Go, baby," he said. "Uh, uh, uh --" "Hey, when you're finished in there, you can do me." "Yeah, maybe, maybe," I said. My fingers, up to the base of my thumb, were inside me now, like an enormous cock. My thumb teased my clit, and I was feeling the sensations, feeling the brain numbness, thinking of the plumber in the next stall. Part of me wanted to call out and beg him to join me, but the other part, the part that lived for the moment and not for the future, was too wrapped up in the pleasure of what I was doing, too close to satisfaction, too close to fulfillment. "Oh, yes, yes, yes!" I cried out. "Yes, damn it, yes." In a crescendo of pleasure, my brain went numb, my pussy saturated with wetness, and I cried out -- "Now, come in here now. Come in here now and fuck me!" Even as I cried the words, my hand kept moving, my thumb kept working. "Come in here and fuck me. Please, fuck me now." I was breathing harder, trying to come down, trying to end it so I could begin again with the plumber, but I heard nothing. My breath slowed, my fingers slowed, my wetness rolled into my hand and down the inside of my legs. "Are you over there?" I said. He couldn't have finished working on the commode so quickly, I thought, but I heard nothing, except that the toilet in the next stall had just flushed. I sighed, dried myself off. Pulled on my panties, smoothed down my skirt. Then I looked into the empty stall and saw that he was gone. Disappointed, I looked in the mirror and straightened myself out, wondering what had happened to him. Finally I stepped into the restaurant. I did not see the plumber, but the hostess hurried to me, and handed me a card. "He said you accidentally got into the men's room," the hostess said. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in there when I sent him in. He said I should give you this card." I looked at the card with his business name and phone number on the front. On the back he had scribbled a note. "Will work on your plumbing anytime." ------------------------------------------------------------------------
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