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Sex Stories

In the Closet

Spend a few minutes of escape, hiding away in the dark with a total stranger— who knows what pleasure you’ll find?

I knew drinking was a bad idea.

My head is swimming in tequila, and a guy whose breath smells of whiskey is snaking his hand around my waist. My friends are taking too long in the comfort room. I came here to take a break from law school, not deal with creepy, old men.

I try to push him off with all the strength my uncoordinated arms could muster. Luckily, he’s more hammered than I am, so he loses his balance on a nearby stool. “You like it rough, huh?” the scoundrel drawls on before laughing.

As he’s fumbling to get back up, I make a run for it. But what I thought was the way to the girl’s room turned out to be a dead-end: the fire exit on one side, a utility closet on the other. I rattle nervously against the fire escape— which is ironically locked— as his raspy voice grows louder from the other end of the hallway.

Somebody taller than me pulls me into the closet and covers my mouth. When the door shuts with a click, all I can hear are my shallow breaths and rapid heartbeats keeping time. My eyes struggle to adjust to the small sliver of light between the door and its frame.

I have no idea who I am with, but I feel her long, wispy hair fall on my shoulders. Her hand pulls tighter around my waist as she attempts to peek outside, pushing my back against her soft breasts. My cheeks flush in the dark.

She lowers her lips to my ear and whispers, “He must be waiting for you to come out of the closet.”

He angrily shakes the door handle, and I back up against her torso out of instinct. She scoffs when we hear an exasperated growl from the other side of the door.

“Well, somebody’s getting comfortable.” I don’t need to see her face to know that she’s smirking. “Care sharing which way you swing?” She drops the hand cupping my mouth to hang atop my shoulder.

“I’ve never done it with a girl yet… so I’m not sure,” I admit, breathy with fear. My stalker might still be on the prowl, lingering in the shadows.

“Exploring, I see?” Both of her hands are now lightly tapping my waist, with her chin on my shoulder. “Mind if I give you a free trial? You know, so you can be sure.”

For some reason, the idea is turning me on. Blame it on the alcohol in my system or the humidity of the enclosed space. I lick my lips to reply, “Why not? There’s no catch, is there?”

“Babe, you’re the only catch here,” she mumbles lightly, biting my exposed shoulder. Her hands slip under my loose camisole and undo my bra in one second. Her palms massage the bottoms of my breasts, while her fingers twist and tug on my nipples.

Meanwhile, her tongue deliciously drags from the base of my neck to my right ear. Then she nibbles on the cartilage, sending tingles down my spine. 

Anticipating the guttural sound I’d make, she quickly claps her right hand over my lips again. “Shhh… We can’t let him find us, you noisy little girl.” I mouth a sorry against her fingers, and she slides her other hand from my breast down to my thigh, where the bottom hem of my skirt meets my skin.

Her fingers crawl from my inner thigh to my crotch. She drags her index finger through the middle of my panties, lingering on top of my clit. I feel slightly embarrassed about how soaked I’ve gotten down there.

I bite into her fingers when she slides her hand through the elastic waistband. She responds by moving her fingers even more aggressively— I suck further down her hand to muffle the sounds threatening to escape my lips.

“If you wanted my fingers inside of you,” she teases against the crook of my neck, “You should know they would feel better in a different hole.” Shifting her position against the wall, she withdraws her right hand, dripping with my saliva, and slides it down my stomach. Her fingers slip easily under my skirt and into my panties.

I inhale sharply, and she shushes me once more before sliding in a finger or two. It feels overwhelming to have my clit and insides stimulated at the same time.

“No, stop. I’m about to—” My knees are about to give out. But she takes this as her cue to go even faster. Pleasure overtakes my entire body in one, sweeping motion before I finally collapse into her arms.

She slowly guides my body to lean against the door in front of me. I try to catch my breath and fix my clothes. Then she leans in very closely, but only to whisper: “Sorry, ma’am, but your free trial has ended. If you want to get the full service, look for Ivy at the counter once you’ve gathered your composure.”

I whip my head back and try to make out her face. She works here?

Without waiting for my response, Ivy undoes a latch by the door and slowly pulls it open. I get my first glimpse of her— foxy face, piercing eyes, ombre-dyed hair flowing to the ends of her ribs, and a lopsided grin that I want to wipe off her face.

“I’ll come out first. My workmates will kill me if they find out I took someone to the closet again,” she continues. “I’ll knock three times then make a run for the bar when the creepy guy’s gone.”

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