The Coffee Shop

Your phone vibrated on the countertop. You were in the middle of breakfast prep and your hands were covered in food, but you glanced over at the screen and saw that it was me. The first few lines read: “After you drop the kids off, meet me at…”

You instantly felt your pussy get wet. Your stomach tightened in nervous, erotic anticipation. You wiped your hands on a towel, picked up your phone, and read the whole text:

“After you drop the kids off, meet me at the coffee shop on 4th and Main. Wear a skirt or dress, no panties. Sit at one of the window barstools on the east side. Be there at 9:30, and wait for me.”

You texted back a simple “yes, sir” and put your phone down. You remember the last time something like this happened, and you still get butterflies over it.

The next hour moves forward, but haltingly. You’re so distracted that you ended up spreading mayo on your breakfast toast. You shook your head and laughed at yourself at how turned on you were, and nothing had even happened yet.

Except for one text.

But the text… it was controlling, but caring. Dominant, but trustworthy. You knew that when I planned something like this out, I had a script in my mind of every action I was going to take, every placement of my hand, every shift of my weight to put me closer to you—even the clothes you had to wear had a role. You felt a bead of wetness run down your inner thigh, and you shivered.

It was 9:15 and you had finally completed all of your morning routines, dropped the kids off, and were on your way. You’d picked a loose, flowing skirt that reached just below your knees and a cute white top that had bared shoulders—and of course, nothing beneath the skirt.

As you drove, you unconsciously shifted your legs, rubbing your thighs together, resisting the urge to place your hand between them and relieve yourself with an orgasm on the way. You knew I wouldn’t allow it, though—that’s what you loved about our dynamic. I controlled every factor and guided you towards incredible pleasure. The only thing you had to do was obey.

When you arrived, you parked, walked inside, and ordered a hot white mocha latte, then sat down at a barstool. The big plate-glass window in front of you looked out to the east, toward the mountains in the distance. Your mind began to wander, thinking about the camping trip last month and what happened by the falls… “Fuck!” You thought. You’d never been so wet.

A hand on your shoulder snapped you from your daydream. It was me, and I leaned in close for a slow, deep, passionate kiss. After our lips had touched twice, I pressed my tongue into your mouth and began to explore you, fully. The kiss couldn’t have lasted for more than ten seconds, but it felt like a pleasurable eternity.

I finally ended the kiss, pulled my face back from yours slightly, and gave you a devilish grin. “Good morning, baby girl.”

I seated myself on the bar stool next to you, but while you sat facing the window, I sat facing you. I pulled my bar stool closer and spread my legs, drawing as close to you as I could. You realized that this would look normal to anyone observing us from the rest of the coffee shop, but it put you right between my legs as I sat intimately close. You began to turn toward me, but stopped at my voice. “No. Face the window.”

It had started.

I placed one hand on your knee that was closest to me and began to chat about my day. I told you about my latest book project, a client I had just picked up, and a billing issue I was facing, in turn. To be honest, though, you weren’t listening. You couldn’t keep your mind off of my fingers, which had slid beneath the hem of your skirt and were slowly tracing their way up your inner thigh. I used light pressure: my fingernails lightly scratched your skin as they slid past, then I switched to my fingertips to slowly massage the area I’d just covered. Your skin turned to gooseflesh and you began to squirm in your seat.

I placed the entire palm of my hand on your thigh and gently squeezed. By this point I’d made it halfway up your skirt, and my entire hand had disappeared beneath the fabric. No one at the coffee shop was the wiser.

“Shhhh, baby girl. Be still.” I whispered in a low voice. You calmed yourself and remained motionless, and I resumed the journey of my hand and my voice.

My voice acted only as cover at this point. You heard the tone, but couldn’t make out the words. My hand worked it’s way higher and higher, until my middle finger grazed your pussy lips.

The leadup had been so intensely erotic that you almost came right there. Your pussy flooded with wetness and your lips felt the heat from both you and my hand. I used my fingertips to play with your outer lips, tracing my way from bottom to top, back down again, then repeating the motion with your inner lips.

I paused at your clit, placing my index and middle finger on either side of your pleasure button. The pressure was light, and I began to work my fingertips around in a clockwise fashion.

Both of your hands were on the bar in front of you, and you noticed that your knuckles were white as you gripped the table tightly. I continued to play with your clit for several minutes, then moved my fingers downward toward your hole, fully exploring your slit as I worked my way downward. When I reached the entrance to your pussy, I stopped.

I left my hand in place, then with my other, reached over and grabbed my coffee. I took a deep swig, looked at you with a devilish grin, then started a new story. My hand didn’t move.

You began to squirm again, this time wanting nothing but to be fingered by me, but you weren’t in control of this moment. I was, and I continued to talk, my fingers literally resting on the entrance to your pussy, the pressure and heat building in your mind every moment I didn’t move. Two minutes later, as I began to explain the file structure I used for my office work, I plunged both fingers into your pussy without warning, burying them up to the knuckle between your sopping wet lips.

You gasped, leaning forward over the bar. I began to alternate my fingers, spreading them into a V, then bringing them back together; rotating them 180 degrees while they were together, then while they were spread apart; using a “come here” motion to stimulate your g spot while my thumb played with your clit.

You’d lost all knowledge or understanding of the world around you as you lost yourself in me fingering you. The slow drowning of my voice acted as cover as you felt yourself build to an orgasm. I withdrew my fingers almost entirely, then plunged them into you again—and with that, you began to cum.

You bit your lip so you wouldn’t make a sound, but your entire body was wracked with shivers as you came on my fingers, working your pussy deeply on a bar stool at a coffee shop, surrounded by dozens of people.

As your orgasm subsided, the motion of my fingers stopped—but I didn’t withdraw them. I left my fingers inside of you, completely still, as your orgasm drew to a close. When you had finally recovered, you looked over at me and said a single word:

“Fuck.”

I grinned as I withdrew my fingers, tracing them down the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of your juices as I pulled my hand from beneath your skirt. I placed them at my mouth and, while staring straight into your eyes, sucked them clean, tasting you.

“My turn,” I said. “Behind me there’s a private bathroom. Second door on the left. Go there, lock the door, and open it when you hear two knocks.”

I turned away from you and looked out the window. As I picked up my coffee, you could see my fingers glistening with wetness from your pussy and my mouth. You got up, rearranged your skirt, and walked to the bathroom.

Thirty seconds later, you heard two sharp raps on the door. You opened it and I walked in quickly, then turned and locked the door.

I turned to face you. You had backed up against the wall, your hands behind you, gripping the handicap support bar mounted on the wall. I walked toward you, placed one hand on your neck, and gripped your throat firmly. I leaned in for a kiss and began to make out with you, sliding my other hand up your shirt and grabbing one of your tits, massaging it roughly.

After a few moments, I placed both of my hands on your shoulders, pulled back, and forced you to your knees. I unbuckled my belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped my pants and let them fall to my ankles. My hard cock sprung free, and I took a step forward. I placed one hand at the back of your head, weaving my fingers into your hair, then pulled you to me. I grabbed my cock with my other hand, then slapped you across the face with it. I slowly began tracing the outline of your face, leaving a trail of precum across your cheekbones as I explored you.

“Open your mouth, Princess.” You opened wide, and I placed the head of my cock in your mouth. I continued to control its motion, tracing your lips, then your tongue. Then slowly, firmly, and without stopping, I pressed my dick into your mouth until it reached the back of your throat, and then continued. You felt my ball press against your chin as the head of my cock forced its way down your throat, creating a bulge in your windpipe you could feel and I could see.

I pulled back and then began to slowly fuck your face, both of my hands at the back of your head now. My tempo varied: sometimes slow and deep, and at times varied and quick. Your saliva began to spill out of your mouth, drool pooling on your tits as I continued to work my cock in your mouth. The “guck guck guck” sounds your throat made every time I thrust my cock into you only served to encourage me, and you felt my shaft get even harder in your mouth.

Suddenly, I pulled back, reached down, placed my hands under your arms, and pulled you to your feet. I placed my hands on your hips and spun you around so you faced the wall. I kept one hand on your hip to anchor you, then placed the other on the small of your back and pushed you over onto a leaning position, your ass thrust back toward me.

I threw your skirt over your ass until it was bunched on your back, your naked cheeks exposed to me now. My cock was soaked with your saliva, and your ass crack had received a similar dousing from how wet you are. I placed the head of my cock at the entrance to your pussy, and with one firm thrust, forced myself in until my balls hit your clit.

You were glad that I’d placed a hand over your mouth before doing this, because you let out a scream of pleasure. I began to work my cock in and out of your cunt, thrusting it into you quickly and deeply, then slowly pulling it back until my head threatened to pull out of you—then I’d reverse course and thrust into you again.

As I pumped your pussy, you came again. Your hips began to shiver, then shudder with the intensity of the orgasm. Your lower lips quivered with pleasure, and the added stimulation pushed me over the edge. I began to cum, and you felt my cock pulsate as I ejected stream after stream of hot cum right into your cunt, making you my filthy little cum slut.

The intensity of our orgasms pushed us both straight into a second one, and we came together again, you feeling my hips thrusting against your ass, my thick cock invading your hole, my hand on your mouth muffling your sounds.

When our orgasms finally subsided, I pulled out and watch a small, white trail of jizz pour from your pussy and begin to make its way down your leg.

I looked at you and grinned. “That’s my good girl.”