over her face. She squirmed and giggled as he painted her with the reward of her efforts.

I couldn’t hold it any more, I lost my own seed, firing several shots of juicy man-paste against the divider wall between our stalls. It slid down the wall and splattered on the carpet below next to the mirror on the floor. I heard a rustling and saw in the reflection that the boy had reached down and given the girl a hand towel to wipe her face off with. ‘They planned ahead,’ I remarked to myself as I realized this problem wasn’t the first time they’d done this.

When the girl finished wiping herself up, she leaned down to the side of her boyfriend’s leg and looked directly into the little mirror on the floor. I froze.

“Need a towel?” she asked, smiling widely as she stared straight at me. She knew. She had known the whole time. I felt my whole body flush red.

“Uh… yes please…” I stammered. Then a thin, lithe wrist reached under the divider wall with a little blue hand towel. I fetched it and mumbled, “Thanks. And thanks for… you know.”

“Anytime,” she replied.

“Who are you talking to?” her boyfriend finally asked, probably very confused.

“Oh, we had a spectator,” she admitted, motioning to the little mirror on the floor. The boy just laughed and then the two left their stall.

I hesitated for a minute, cooling down. Then I wiped up my come, tried on my suit, and headed off for the party.

When I got there, Karen asked me what took so long.

I just replied, “I just needed to take a few minutes to give J.T. a little more thought.”

“Good,” Karen responded. “I’m glad you did. Feel better about things now?”

“Much.”