My palms are flat on the wall. My jeans are round my ankles, my knickers around my knees. As he enters from behind, I can hear the whirr of the engine and the fierce wind suction sound you get in airline toilets.
He has his rhythm, and he knows where to put it. I feel my ponytail gently tugged at.
“Trying not to come…” he gasps suddenly.
Bless him. He thinks giving me an orgasm is why he’s here.
Taj Mahal? Check. Ride an elephant? Check.
My bucket list will need attention when I get home.
Mile High Club?
Check!
