To that one bar, BallieBallerson. Initially I’m skeptical as to how a giant ball pit could be fun as an adult, all that awkward rolling around. After we have a few rounds and some local food I’m quickly proven wrong.
You dive in and immediately everything past your shoulders disappears. The spectacle of it makes me giddy with laughter as I follow you in. I have a hard time moving around, doing a half swim half walk to a table the other end of the floor. I have a naughty idea pulling you in close, I feel you grow hard as I kiss you. It makes me flush in excitement, it makes me feel bold enough to ask if you would please fuck me.
The bar is sparsely occupied and we are hidden far enough back to not be noticed. I press myself against your erection to emphasize my need. Surrounded by all this brightly colored chaos I feel a rising urgency to feel you inside me. On this occasion I’m wearing a long dress, and I slide the skirt up over my hips. Your fingers find their way to my epicenter, pushing aside the little cloth barrier. You accept my invitation eagerly, your warm mouth covering mine to silence the escaping gasp . I’m gleeful and grateful at the awkward rustle the little plastic bots shoelding us from prying eyes.
I find your zipper and beg to feel you inside of me. It takes a little adjusting to get our environment to yield, but oh when I feel you, all rational thoughts fade, replaced instead by insurmountable building pleasure I feel when I rock my hips back and forth against you. I cling to your shoulders for support. The sounds of our ragged breathing are stifled by the bar music but I can hear you and delight in the quickening pace, and that focused look in those beautiful eyes of yours. My heart is pounding as we become tense together in one blissful moment of extasy as we come together. No one else knew or cared, but we made this space ours.
( I imagine in reality they probably have a more attentive lookout for those sorts of shenanigans but whatevs.)