M is for Museum

She loved wandering museums as much as the next person, but she was getting bored. How many more rooms of paintings of well-coifed and dressed up people could there possibly be?

people art painting architecture
Photo by Marco Carlotti on Pexels.com

Worse? It had been her idea to come today. He hadn’t really wanted to go out, but she really needed to get out for a little while. She had talked him into the idea so she felt like she should at least stick it out.

As they turned the corner into yet another room of portraits, she was really reconsidering her idea. There was no one else in the room besides them–in fact, hardly anyone else was in the entire museum. They must have found something more exciting to do, too.

There was a hallway at the other end of the room that led to the bathrooms. Maybe she could fill up her water bottle there. She pointed at the sign and he nodded, weirdly absorbed in a particular painting.

No water fountain. But, there was a nice little cubby where they might be able to fool around a little. She smiled and headed back to him.

Coming up behind him, she encircled his waist with her arms and kissed his neck. “See something you like?” she asked with a smile in her voice.

“Did you notice the couple having sex in the background?” he laughed.

She slid her arms down to his belt and said, “Oh, really?” He tried to pull away, but she could feel him getting hard. “Such smut in such a proper setting.”

He turned to face her and she kissed him, first softly then sliding her tongue into his mouth. Her hand slid down to his crotch and she stroked him through his jeans. “Someone might come in here,” he hissed around her kisses.

“Come,” she giggled, “with me.”

He rolled his eyes and followed her into the hallway and she pulled him into the little opening. “No one can see us here unless they are heading into the bathrooms. We’ll hear them.”

They leaned against the wall and made out like a couple of teenagers. She could feel her chin smarting from his beard rubbing against her and her hair had definitely looked better before. She could feel a wet spot on the front of his jeans and rubbed just a little harder. He groaned and then voices.

“Fuck. Seriously?” he grumbled. She couldn’t stop giggling between the adrenaline and horniness.

“Want to go home?” she asked.

“Damn right. And let’s plan some more culture in our life next weekend.”

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