Just Dessert

Jayne Renault
8 mins read
Published over 3 years ago

was strategic when choosing my seat at the table that night, knowing that he would have no choice but to sit across from me.

Everyone hugged and kissed, wishing Sarah a happy birthday as we all sat down. Ryan gave me a subtle smile and nod as he took a sip from his water glass.

I swear, the warmth radiating from his eyes has the power to stir a dormant volcano. 

I melted.

Ryan is my best friend Sarah's younger brother. The two of them are pretty close, so I've known him almost as long as I’ve known her. On special occasions, like tonight, I can usually expect him to be in attendance.

At first glance, he’s unassertively nice, kind of shy. He’s got a soft face, contoured with a short, well-kept beard, serious eyes, and gentle demeanour to boot. But look a little closer (and get a couple of drinks into him), and his staunch opinions and unassuming brilliance will inevitably start to pour out. And the moment that storm sets out on its rampage, I can’t help but stand in the middle of the chaos. This guy is the quintessential poster boy for the “Intelligence is sexy” campaign.

And it gets me every time.

Now, Ryan and I have never talked about this - us. Though I often get the impression that he might maybe have a thing for me too, I’ve always just admired him from a distance. Like a shy school girl harbouring a massive, secret crush on her second-grade science teacher instead of womanning up to make any kind of move.

Despite the fact that we’re all grown-ass humans here, I just feel weird about making that kind of advance on Sarah’s baby bro right in front of her.

My head was warm and fuzzy from the free-flow of wine. Everyone was talking louder and louder, like we were all getting further away from each other.

I totally zoned out for a moment – I was pretending to listen to Sarah and Margo’s work chat, but I got distracted by how pronounced the clank of the silverware on porcelain was when I actually stopped to listen.

That's when I noticed Ryan watching me.

It felt like he was moving in slow motion – he lifted his wine to his lips, took a small gulp, and gently replaced the glass on the table, all without taking his eyes off me.

His blatant awareness piqued something in me. He was eyeing me with the same attention I have when he preaches about solutions to sustainable living or the overwhelming weight of spiritual existence, and I felt the heat in my head move south.

When I tuned back into the girls' conversation, I realized I had no idea what they were talking about. At the same time, I became suddenly aware of the undeniable pressure growing between my legs. I’d obviously consumed a bunch of wine by that point, plus I was super turned on at the dinner table thanks to Ryan’s sultry stare. So, I took the opportunity to excuse myself.

The hallway towards the bathroom was lit by candles, and I made a note of how dark it was: This has to be a fire hazard. Because apparently occupational safety is important to Drunk Me. 

Just as I pressed the flat of my palm to the bathroom door, my critique of the establishment’s safety measures came to an abrupt halt – I heard someone approach me from somewhere in the shadows behind me, and place a cautious hand on my hip.

The stranger gently brought the front of his body to meet the back of mine, and I recognized him before he even spoke.

“Is this okay?” Ryan whispered into my hair, breathing me in towards him on his nervous inhale. I smiled and bit my bottom lip.

Of course it’s okay… 
Oh, right. Say it out loud.

“It’s more than okay,” I said as I pushed the door open, and pulled us both inside.

Even my smile stumbled as I turned to face him. This room was even darker than the hallway – the only source of light was a handful of tea lights on the counter. My eyes didn’t have time to adjust before they were forced shut by his embrace. His fingers got wrapped up in my hair, and I gave my mouth to him. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for way too long,” he said.

We made out in the near-dark like teens in a closet. My heart raced. Excitement, anticipation, sheer disbelief.

Is this actually happening right now? 

His other hand moved deliberately down my back, and when he reached my hips again, he pulled me in a little closer. I held his face in both of my hands, and pressed my mouth into his. 

My lips parted, and he teased the edges of my mouth with his tongue. I felt my heart hiccup again as I fumbled in my mind with the double-edged sword of taking the plunge in public – one part fear, two parts exhilaration slash straight-up not giving a fuck about getting caught. The thrill shivered through me, and I felt my shoulders scrunch up to my ears.

Giggling tipsily between kisses, I wrapped my arms around his neck and took a step backwards towards the stall behind me, his feet following through our (potentially very disastrous) dance.

I shoved the stall door open, and he playfully pushed me inside. Despite our obviously reduced inhibitions, I turned to lower the toilet lid. Just in case.

He approached me from behind once more, running his hand along the front of my neck. He gripped a breast in one hand and gave it a squeeze, as his other hand slipped up past the hemline of my dress to the bare skin of my thigh. I felt my flesh pucker under his touch as his fingers drifted closer to the midline between my legs.

His fingers teased at my vulva over my panties. I didn't know for sure yet, but I was pretty sure I was already wet. I pulled my underwear to one side while he fumbled with the mechanics of his own pants. Apparently, he wasn’t concerned about what might be happening on that bathroom floor – I heard his pants slide lazily down his thighs as he lifted up my dress to reveal the curve of my ass.

I placed my hands onto the back of the toilet and, as I heard him tear the condom open and roll it on, I realized I had no idea what to expect. I decided not to steal a peek.

I guess we're going in blind.

I felt him move his tip up and down the wet periphery of my labia a few times, and then he slid himself slowly inside. I couldn't tell you whether or not he was circumcised, or what the grooming situation was, but damn - he was hitting me in all the right places. And that's really all that matters at the end of the day, right?

The head of his cock was so engorged with excitement, emphasizing a distinct ridge that rubbed up inside me, already struggling not to climax too quickly. The throbbing intensified as he got a feel for me, and every time he thrust, I felt him dig a little deeper, expand a little more as he gripped both of my hips for stability. 

Trying to keep quiet, I clasped one hand over my mouth and bit into the side of my finger, stifling the urge to scream. I wanted to squeal every time I felt him reach my inner limits, but I never fully let go – despite it all, I still couldn’t lose track of the fact that I was fucking Sarah's brother. 

In a public restroom. 

With her in the next room.

He bent over me and I felt the weight of his body floating over my spine. He nuzzled into the back of my neck.

“I know we don’t have a lot of time,” he whispered into my ear. “But I really want you to come.”

Ugh, stop! That's so hot.
But please, keep going.

I turned my head to face him so I could steal a kiss and express my approval. With the ice finally broken, I was riding a new wave of confidence. I pushed him away and climbed up to sit on the flat porcelain back of the toilet. I squeaked a little when my cheeks met the cool surface, and we laughed together as I leaned back into the wall behind me. Spreading my knees, I presented myself to him with a coy grin.

His eyes flashed with that devilish spark he sometimes has, and he smiled back. He sat down, straddling the closed toilet lid, and buried his face between my legs. He moved hastily along the line of my inner thigh until his mouth met and mingled with the wetness of the hungry love we were in the thick of only moments prior.

His tongue moved quickly to home in on my pulsing clit. He traced wet circles around it with the tip of his tongue as he sneaked a finger up to hover around the edge of my pussy, and I felt that ache, that magnetic pull of anticipation all over again.

As he slid his finger inside me, his mouth found new purpose - he massaged rhythmically back and forth over my swollen clit as the thrust of his finger tried to meet the cadence of his tongue.

“You taste so good,” he whispered.


I grabbed him by the scruff of his hair and pushed my hips into his face. As my knees pulled even further apart, I felt the spontaneous contraction of my pelvic floor, which seemed to force everything to clench a little closer together. I felt the slow, gentle rise of pressure throughout my whole body as every last nerve ending re-awakened. When he inserted a second finger inside me, I felt a spasm jolt through my hips, and my muscles hugged tighter around him.

I planted my palms onto the toilet ledge, and felt the gradual spontaneous climb of my hips. He must have noticed it too, because he placed his free hand underneath to spot me through my ascent.

This probably only lasted a few minutes, but it felt like I was stuck in a time loop; the tension burning from my core was frantically searching for an escape. I pushed the balls of my feet into the edges of the toilet bowl beneath the weight of his thighs, and my head fell back, bumping into the wall behind me.

Thankfully, he didn’t bother to stop and check on me. We absolutely do not have time to lose traction at this point.

His wet tongue lapped at my clit, his fingers reaching deeply and consistently until I finally felt a wave of heat surge from inside, and drip over his hand.

My eyes locked shut, and my hips shook through the contractions. He slowly slid his fingers out, steadying me with his dry hand. I ran my palm over my sweaty forehead and giggled as he helped me lower myself down to the toilet seat. While I waited for the shock to wear off, he got up and left the stall.

When I finally wobbled to my feet and pulled my dress down, I walked up behind him as he was slowly massaging his hands under the warm water. I leaned into his shoulder, and we just gazed at each other’s glowing faces in the mirror. 

He cupped the water in his hands and carefully splashed it onto his face to rinse our hedonism from his beard. As I admired him in silence, another woman walked into the bathroom.

Her entrance made me jump on the inside, having again forgotten and remembered all over again that I was in a public bathroom. She didn’t engage with us, and beelined it to our stall.

I giggled knowingly, and kissed him on the cheek as he dried his hands on the towel. I noticed the subtle aroma of my sweet indulgence that still hung on his face.

“I’m going to order another bottle of wine,” I said. “See you back at the table.”

More by Queen Jayne:

The Birthday Bash
Chicago Rare
Comings and Goings
Compliance Risk
Condemned Desire
Conservation Area

Diamonds and Pearls
The Edge of Glory
Expressions of Grief
For Dommestic Use Only
Hey, Babe.
Just Dessert

Lucky Shot
Summer Heat
Strangers on a Train
Up Top

Written by
Queen Jayne Renault

comma chameleon. word witch. smut queen.