I'm on my knees furiously sucking his dick. I'm sure it would be obvious if anyone looked under the stall partition that there's more than one of us in the stall. At this point, with his cock in my mouth working towards it's reward, I can barely worry about it.
It's that feeling. That warm, soft skin passing through my lips, moving back and forth on my tongue. The intimacy of having his most sensitive and pleasurable part inside of me. The part that he keeps hidden from most, revealed only by the slight outline in his jeans, that gives him the most joy is now getting the most joy, while I'm on my knees - in heaven - getting my face fucked.
It's that taste. A little salty, mixed with the drops of precum that keep coating my tongue. The most delicious elixir and a clue that I'm doing my job well.
The smell. He's clean. I smell soap, but I can also smell the sweat radiating from his balls. It drives me crazy.
But this is what it's really about: it's about when that cock gets hard in my mouth, his balls lift up and I am giving him, his cock, all of him an absolutely mind-numbingly incredible orgasm.It's about it shooting, delivering that load that I work for, that I crave and need.
Then we can both go back to having clear heads for a little while.