I’ve been using my local coffee shop for years. I was a patron long before my accident. Unfortunately, I now needed to walk with a stick permanently, which made carrying a tray loaded with coffee and a sandwich or a slice of something delicious something of a faff. On the plus side, all the staff know me, and they know my order, large Caramel Latte and diabetes be damned.
It wasn’t uncommon for me to walk in, wave a greeting to the staff that happened to be working that day and take my habitual perch at the back of the shop so that I could write my stories and people-watch. Then, a few minutes later, they would kindly bring my order to me, so I could enjoy my time there and not worry about having a disability for a while.
That kind of consideration and level of customer service is excellent when so much of life is so challenging. Not that I mind. I would, of course, rather have two working legs, but I don’t, so this is the hand I have been dealt to play with. So, I do so with a song in my heart. However, the accident could have so quickly and easily taken much more than the use of my leg from me.
On this particular day, a Sunday – May 28th, 2023 - I woke early, far earlier than usual, and gently kissed my still-sleeping wife on the forehead. I was in the mood for coffee, not an instant coffee, but a proper barista-style coffee. However, the craving I had wouldn’t quit until it was sated. I am sure that you, dear reader, will be familiar with this type of craving and have had at least one experience.
My wife’s eyes fluttered open briefly, and she gave me a lovely, lazy grin as she stretched like a cat laying in the sun, her hands reaching above her head and grasping the ironwork of the bedstead and pulling herself up into a half-sitting position. She inadvertently jostled the silk scarves tied to the ironwork for some of our more… playful love-making sessions. She giggled at the memory of the last time she had tied me up. Leaving me tied to the bed while she went out with her girlfriends to a club. I’m still planning my revenge, and it will be epic… But I digress.
“Would you like a proper coffee, baby?” I asked her as I kissed the side of her face and traced the delicate contours of her modest but perfectly formed breasts with my index finger. Even after all these years, I still marvel at how responsive her nipples are to the slightest touch of my hand anywhere on her breasts. I gave the nipple nearest to me a playful pinch, not hard enough to hurt but certainly enough to cause her to catch her breath and enjoy the delicious sensations that I knew would be instantly transferred to her rapidly moistening pussy.
“Ummm, sounds delicious. But I want some more sleep. Why don’t you take your laptop to the café and write me a story while you enjoy your morning? Then, you can bring me one back when you come home.” She turned onto her right side and kissed me slowly and passionately. Our tongues danced a slow waltz about each other, and her hand reached down to my naked cock.
Instantly, my little friend was curious about the touch of my wife’s hand and started to fill it out nicely. I’m not a bragger, and I am pathologically pre-disposed, to be truthful. I could tell you that I have a nine-inch long, six-inch girth monster nestled between my legs, and you would be none the wiser for the telling. However, I’m average if the national statistics are to be believed. I’ve never had any hang-ups about my size, having been married and divorced from my first wife. That union resulted in a Son who has matured into a wonderful and level-headed young man, so average must be pretty good in my book.
“Nu-uh, you need to get dressed and go out!” she giggled under her breath, having given little me a few light strokes. I love my wife dearly, and we have an honest and open relationship. But she’s such a cock-tease. She knew that my motor would be running now, as slow kissing is my kryptonite, and she was now sending me off into the world with not only a raging boner but also the libido that would want satisfaction sooner rather than later.
“You’re such a prick-tease!” I sighed mock exasperation in my voice. I feigned getting up by throwing the duvet off us, then pounced into a massive tickle assault on her ribs.
She screamed, then laughed, which set the dog off barking. Not wanting to piss the neighbours off too much, I ceased my tickling and gave the dog a fuss, letting her know everything was OK. Staffordshire Bull Terriers are a wonderful breed, so loving and docile, but they have NO sense of humour! Taking the hint, I admitted defeat and threw on some clothes, grabbed my backpack, which contained my laptop, charger and a few other items, and headed out to my favourite spot.
~~~~~~{}~~~~~~
The drive to my favourite café was uneventful and only took five minutes. It is situated near the Town Centre and a junction for a major Motorway, so it captures plenty of passing traffic new to the area and local denizens alike. I reversed into one of the spaces reserved for disabled clients and headed inside.
I checked the faces in the surprisingly busy indoor seating area and quickly noticed a couple of regulars sitting with their papers. Then I looked at the staff behind the counter. There wasn’t a familiar face among them. Knowing I wanted my usual drink, the only choice I had to make was what to have for breakfast. I selected a vegan breakfast wrap and waited in line, my back gradually getting more and more painful as I stood waiting.
I guessed that the young lady behind the counter was new, as she struggled with the EPOS system and entering my order. I gave her a reassuring smile; I didn’t mind waiting while the crippling pain in my back made me sweat; everyone has to learn, right? Finally, with my order entered, paid for and being brewed, I leaned forward to ease the pain in my back.
“Are you OK?” The young lady asked of me, concern evident on her face.
“Yeah, all OK here. Old injury is playing me up some is all,” I replied, trying to muster a smile, but I guess it was more of a grimace.
“Your order won’t be long; why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll bring it over to you?” She said with a big smile spreading across her face.
I hadn’t noticed before, but she was quite pretty. She had a fair complexion with a few acne scars but nothing that made her unattractive. I’d guess she was perhaps twenty, maybe twenty-one years old. Her brunette hair was tied back into a ponytail that swished about happily as her head moved this way and that. She stood about 5’ tall and, if I had to guess, was maybe a 34B at most. Her most prominent feature was her full, generous lips, perfectly sized and shaped for kissing.
I thanked her cordially and proceeded to my usual perch, grateful to finally take the weight off my good leg, ease back, and enjoy the relief from the pain. Then, taking my laptop and charger out of my backpack, I set up and connected to the free WiFi offered by the café. I quickly checked on mail with Outlook, then logged in to LushStories to see what, if anything, was happening in the world.
Nothing transpired that needed my immediate attention, so I opened Word and re-read the last few paragraphs of my current story to refresh my memory and consider where to take the dialogue and plot next. A timid little voice sounded in front of my screen as I scanned the text.
“Here’s your food and coffee, Sir.”
I looked up and saw the little Brunette that had taken my order. I smiled inwardly. Why was I happy that she had delivered my order? It wasn’t a great surprise, as it appeared she was manning the in-house orders alone while her colleague was running frantically about doing orders for the Drive-Thru.
“Thank you so much,” I said, always sure to be polite and grateful towards those working in any service industry. They’re feeling people, just like everyone else, doing their best and trying to get by. However, the number of people that give service workers a hard time for the slightest imperfection in their orders, thus making their lives miserable, is quite staggering to me. So I try to give them a ray of light and gratitude in an otherwise primarily thankless job.
I pulled my laptop towards me to make more room for the tray. I watched as she carefully placed my order on the table, taking great care not to spill my coffee as it was lowered. As she stood, I caught her eye and gave her a big smile of gratitude. Her face flushed; I guessed she wasn’t used to people being so amiable with her yet.
“If you need anything else, just shout for me,” she said, shyly smiling as she said the words.
“I shall, thank you, but it would be helpful to know your name.” I pointed out playfully.
“It’s on my badge!” was her somewhat unexpectedly sharp reply.
“What badge?” I questioned. She looked down at her right breast for a second and realised that the little name badge was missing.
“Shit!” a heartbeat later, she realised she was speaking with a customer, and I had to suppress a chuckle.
“I am so sorry, Sir. I didn’t realise my badge had fallen off.” Her hand went to her forehead in exasperation.
I don’t know if she was apologising for cursing in front of a customer or panicking, as she would get into trouble for losing her badge.
“My name is Casey; just shout if you want anything. Can I get you anything while I’m here?”
“No, thank you, Casey; I’m good for now,” I said with a huge grin. She turned on her heel, and I watched her disappear behind the counter. Marvelling at the sway of her hips and how tight her leggings were. I noticed that she was either wearing a thong or was otherwise without underwear, as there was no visible line where one would expect panties to reside under tight leggings.
As I busied myself with the development of other characters in my work, I absent-mindedly took nibbles of my wrap and the occasional slurp of my coffee. Casey busied herself back and forth to the café floor, taking food orders to customers waiting or clearing tables and bussing the empties to the washroom for cleaning.
I watched that marvellous ass sway away from me for the umpteenth time when I accidentally inhaled some coffee. I promise it was wholly unconscious, but the effect was immediate, and I dropped a mostly full cup of coffee into my lap. It was relatively warm, though not hot, so I was torn between trying to stand on my good leg, hopping up and down while frantically patting at my groin, and fighting for breath as I was choking.
The cup merrily sailed on past my balls, having squashed them a little on its way to the floor, and now lay as a small jigsaw of ceramic pottery pieces strewn about in a large puddle of coffee.
Before I knew what was happening, someone was thumping me on the back, and they were doing so hard. The movies would have you believe that someone choking can remedy their situation with a few light taps in the middle of the back by a well-meaning bystander. Unfortunately, this is not the case. You have to hit hard between the shoulder blades to force air from the lungs to dislodge whatever may be occluding the airway.
“Sir, are you OK?” A concerned voice came from behind me as I breathed in a huge lungful of air. I nodded, not trusting my airway to form words without lapsing into a coughing fit. After a few seconds, I could feel my back tense again, so I shakily lowered myself to the now-saturated seat. I gathered myself while Casey hovered by my shoulder until she was sure I was OK again.
“I am now; thank you for your help, Casey,” I nodded to back up my statement, wondering how I would contend with the mess I was in and the drive home.
“Come with me; we’ll get you dried up in the washroom. We’ve got a hot air blower in there, which will make short work of drying your wet clothes.” I sensed from Casey’s tone that it wasn’t a request, so I agreed, as I didn’t fancy squelching my way home and then having to dry the car seat as well.
As I stood, I forgot to account for the wet flooring, and my stick slid away from me as I put my weight through it. I followed it down and instinctively reached out for something to grab onto. Unfortunately for poor Casey, that something was the sleeve on the left side of her shirt, and there was a loud tearing sound as the sleeve came away in my hand.
Somehow, I managed to keep my footing and regained my equilibrium. Casey led me to the washroom and had me stand against the sink. She seemed oblivious that her torn top allowed me an unimpeded view of her braless milky white left breast and its pink areola and perky dark rose-coloured gum-drop nipple each time she stood in profile to me.
This sight alone was enough to stoke the fires of any red-blooded male; the fact that Casey was also busying herself with pointing a source of warm air at my midriff and patting at my groin fervently with a cloth was doing nothing to stop my erection from developing to see what all the fuss was.
“Oh! Oh my,” Casey said. Not sure what to do as my shorts started to tent. Her eyes were large as saucers, and she unconsciously licked her generous lips.
“It’s perfectly natural, given that you are touching me there, and your left tit is hanging out of your shirt,” I chuckled mischievously. I hadn’t realised that Casey wasn’t aware of the state of her shirt.
“It’s what now?” she muttered, only half registering what I’d said as she was transfixed by the now fully erect cock in my shorts.
“OH SHIT!” Casey muttered. I chuckled again and thought, ‘And light dawns on the situation’ to myself. I watched as she looked at the damage to her shirt and placed a hand inside, squeezing and pinching her nipple as she looked up at me with lust burning in her eyes.
Then, the craziest thing happened. This young nymph yanked down my shorts and was surprised to see that I was commando. In my defence, I had left the house in a hurry. My pink cock wobbled merrily before Casey’s face, and I saw her pupils dilate. In no time, she lunged her head forward and enveloped my cock in one deft movement.
Watching my shaft disappear between her perfectly plump lips stole my breath away, and I let my head fall back as I enjoyed the sensations of her mouth bobbing up and down on my rock-hard cock. I held on to the sink counter for dear life to support my weight. I had no idea how long this would take, and I couldn’t stand for long periods. I could feel her tongue tickling my balls at the bottom of her stroke. This young girl loved giving head, it seemed.
Delicious sensations started building in my balls and the pit of my stomach, and I knew I wouldn’t last very long if she kept this pace up. Occasionally, she would pop me out of her mouth and run her tongue around my glans, then tickle the frenulum with the tip of her tongue before taking me back in her mouth again.
The sheer suddenness of the situation, the naughtiness of the location, the possibility of being caught, and the fact that Casey was a full-on hottie had me shooting wads of my thick and creamy cum down her throat in short order. Casey looked up at me as she stroked the last drops of cum from my balls and licked her lips, giving me a cheeky wink.
“Ummm, yummy. Thank you,” Casey said as she stood up, bringing up my shorts too. She grabbed her fleece jacket to hide the damage to her shirt. I looked at her through dreamy eyes, quite perplexed as to why this had happened, not that I would complain, but I admit I was inquisitive.
“I’m sorry, but I have to ask… why did you do that? I’m not complaining, but I have to know,” I voiced my thoughts and waited for an answer.
“I’m a bit of a cum-slut. So whenever I see a hard cock, I feel like I’ve got to suck the filling out of it.” As simple as that, that was her explanation. No mutual attraction or having a thing for older men. Just a cum-slut that needed a hit of hot jizz.
Casey returned to drying my clothes with the air dryer, and in no time at all, I was dry and ready to go back home. It was as if nothing had happened.
I placed a fresh order for a large latte and a Mango and Passionfruit cooler for wifey. Casey made the drinks without fuss and said they were on the house with a cheeky little wink. I noticed she’d wrapped a napkin about my latte but thought nothing of it. Casey helped me to the car and handed me the drinks individually as I placed them in the car’s twin cup holders. Then she returned to the café to go about the rest of her day.
As I approached home, I called my wife to ask her for a hand bringing the drinks in. I passed her the drinks from the holders. Somehow, she immediately knew something was up when she met me by the car. How do women do that? It’s always mystified me. But, as I mentioned earlier, we have an open and honest relationship, so I told her I’d tell her when we got into the house, lest neighbours hear any juicy gossip that would best be kept out of the public domain.
“Fess up. Why do you smell of coffee, shame and sex?” Tapping one foot on the floor in mock annoyance.
“Well, you wouldn’t believe it unless you’d been there, but this is the truth as I stand before you now,” I regaled her with the tale of the nubile young vixen who had tried to be a good service employee and had ended up with a mouthful of my finest seed. We enjoyed our free drinks as I gave her a blow-by-blow of the morning’s events… literally.
“So that’s why she wrote her number and finish time on the napkin she gave you, hmmm?”
“I swear I didn’t know she’d done that. Oh my goodness!” I was genuinely taken aback. But then, wifey began to chuckle at my tale.
“It could only happen to you, you lucky bugger,” she punched me playfully on my arm. “Now, get your arse in that stairlift and get upstairs. Your tale has made me horny as fuck. I want you to eat my pussy now, then fuck me slowly after you’ve made me cum!”
“Yes, Ma’am!” I whipped a mock salute to her, hobbled off as quickly as possible to the stairlift, and headed upstairs. I was mean because I abandoned the lift at the top of the stairs, chuckling wickedly. This meant she’d have to call it down to be able to pass it. It wasn’t possible at any other point on the stairs.
By the time the lift had returned to the bottom of the stairs and wifey had joined me in the bedroom, my coffee-stained clothes were in the hamper, and the room smelled of caramel latte. I knelt at the foot of the bed, waiting for my wife, lover, soul-mate and best friend to join me.
She wore a beautiful smile when she saw my naked form waiting on the bed, cock pointing happily north as she stripped off her loose clothing and hopped onto the bed to join me. I leaned forward and stroked the insides of her thighs with my fingertips. I was starting just above the knee and going up to the groin, carefully avoiding contact with her labia for as long as possible. I wanted to build the desire in her as much as possible.
I know the skin on the insides of her thighs is exceptionally sensitive, and from the groans of appreciation coming from the top of the bed, my ministrations were doing the trick for her. So I changed tactics slightly; instead of my fingers, I planted little butterfly kisses up the insides of her left, then right leg, before finishing off with a few playful nibbles on her mons.
“Oooh!” she purred contentedly. “That’s nice!”
I could smell her arousal now, her familiar musk reaching my nose and her pheromones triggering my lust. I am master of my own body, however, a civilised man if such a beast exists. So I controlled my inner cave-man, and instead of taking her right then, I delivered the method of pleasure my bride had requested. Tentatively, I teased her outer labia with my fingers, gently tracing their shape and savouring their contours.
Her arousal continued to build as she squirmed and wriggled on the bed underneath my fingertips—her need for release building with each featherlight touch of my fingers, her motion becoming more fevered and erratic as I deliberately allowed a single finger so slowly caress the folds of her inner labia, coating my digit in her honey.
“Hmmm. Baby, don’t tease me, please,” she begged me. But, of course, that is precisely what I was doing and would continue to do until I was ready to proceed.
I sucked my moist finger, tasting her flavour. Sweet, with a hint of saltiness and utterly and delightfully delicious. A switch flicked in my brain. I had to have more of this nectar and must have it from its source. But still, I denied my baser instinct and gently slipped one finger between her folds, then another, and finally a third. Taking care not to approach her clit under any circumstances.
My fingers were, by this time, sufficiently lubricated. I probed deeper into her, gently pushing forward with each thrust to ensure that I caused no pain and stretched her magnificent sex slowly, treating it with the reverence it deserved. Sighs and grunts of frustration accompanied groans of satisfaction as I slowly stretched her out to accept all three of my fingers side by side. Only then did I allow my mouth to fall onto her waiting pussy.
Having avoided stimulation of the clitoris pays dividends if done correctly. I placed the tip of my tongue just above my fingers and slowly ran a figure of eight about the painfully swollen bundle of nerve endings. Still not making direct contact with the clitoris, I delighted in her howls of frustration as the seeds of her orgasm built within her core.
I rotated my hand and reduced the number of fingers to one as I deliberately and slowly stimulated her G-spot, timing my gentle caresses with my tongue and taking time to build the orgasm slowly and elegantly. Her hands moved to my head and pulled me in closer to her, trying to push for more. I would not be bullied into moving faster or harder. My wife wanted me to eat her, and that was fine. I was going to do it at my pace and enjoy the meal.
Eventually, I allowed my tongue to flick over her clit; the action was immediately met with a sharp intake and holding of breath as electricity ran around her body from the briefest of contact with her engorged nub. Again, I let her settle and catch her breath before I started again, building to a crescendo with a flick of the clit with my tongue.
By this time, my darling wife was beside herself, desperate to release her tension. I took pity on her and withdrew my finger from her pussy, which had overflown her nectar and made a little puddle under her ass. Then, I laid the flat of my tongue across her clit and flexed the muscle, massaging the nub and inserted my index finger into her rosebud.
The result was explosive; as her orgasm crested at the intrusion of my finger into her anus, she squirted over my face. Relishing the effect, I drank as much of her cum as possible. The viscous milky fluid was never-ending, it seemed. Her legs had clamped about my head in a vice-like grip, and she was writhing on the bed. Her entire body was wracked by muscles contracting and releasing in no particular pattern, spasming as the orgasmic release claimed her.
She lay there in a discombobulated heap. A thin film of sweat coated her delicious body. Her chest heaved with the heavy and laboured breathing that comes from holding one’s breath for too long. Occasional spasms gripped her body as she twitched with bliss. It was entirely a minute or perhaps longer before her senses began to return to her.
“I’m sending you out for coffee more often. Holy shit, that was intense!”
I laughed heartily as I crawled up her body. On my way, I planted little kisses and nibbles on her delightful form until I was lying entirely atop her, my rock-hard member ready to invade her most secret places.
“Just give me a minute, please. The room is still spinning,” she chuckled and took my face in both hands, pulling me towards her for a sensual kiss.
“Anything for you, my love.” I was happy to lie in the embrace of this Goddess. I had known from the moment I met her all those years ago that I was destined to spend the rest of my life with her. I was blessed beyond all expectation that I, of all people, was the lucky man she chose to give her love to.
In the early days of our relationship, as most couples do, I imagine, we traded fantasies and dreams. Some of those we had made reality while others had remained firmly in the realm of ‘it would be nice to have, but it isn’t going to happen’.
As I said before, we have an open relationship. We are both free spirits and have dabbled with having sex with others, usually with the consent of the other and more than once, each playing a voyeuristic role and watching the other. Anyone we’ve played with has been fully appraised of our relationship, and the expectation is for a little bit of naughty fun.
We aren’t in it to catch feelings and disrupt our lives or anyone else’s. We love each other deeply, so why would we deny each other the pleasure that another lover could bring to our significant other? It’s not wanton promiscuity either; the mood has to be correct, and the person has to be right. It all has to fall right for it to happen. Usually.
I knew she wasn’t mad at me earlier, and as she also knows I’m a pathological truth-teller, she believed I was innocent earlier this morning. However, I can’t deny that I thoroughly enjoyed it, either. I looked up into her beautiful blue eyes and kissed the tip of her nose playfully, then gave a quick Eskimo kiss, rubbing my nose over hers.
“You know I love you, right?” I asked. I knew she did, and I know she loves me unconditionally too. It’s still nice to hear it from time to time, though.
“Why don’t you come here and show me how much,” she suggested playfully.
I repositioned myself and groaned in ecstasy as my member pushed through her modest labia and into her welcoming and warm pussy. She also groaned as she felt my hardness enter her, stretching her again to complete fullness. It was like we were made for each other, a hand inside a glove.
She kissed me tenderly as I gently thrust into her, feeling my glans graze her cervix. I reached up to caress her right breast and play with the nipple, pinching and rolling it between my thumb and forefinger before allowing my hand to run lazily down her side, gently tickling her side boob.
We kissed and allowed our tongues to resume the ballet they had started this morning. I felt her nails dig into the flesh of my shoulders, then drag down my scapula to the base of my hips before returning the other way, the backs of her nails grazing my skin lightly, sending waves of pleasure shooting throughout my body.
She massaged my cock with the muscles of her pussy, causing a delicious sensation that triggered the beginnings of my climax. I tried to slow myself, but her hips were in tune with mine, so she sped up her rocking motion to promote deeper and faster penetration. By this point, I was a lost cause. The pressure was building rapidly in my balls, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I would have my second orgasm of the day. It was only the fact that I had cum not that long ago that had kept me from blowing my load this long.
I started grunting as the urgency built in the pit of my stomach. My breathing became ragged and shallow as I concentrated on each sensation I was feeling.
“Cum for me, baby,” she encouraged me, whispering the request into my ear.
“Fill me with your cum,” she demanded as I heaved into her pussy like it was my last opportunity.
“Fuck me hard. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I’m cumming! Don’t you fucking stop now,” her words were pleading, begging me to last a little longer. Somehow, I managed to do so, just for her.
“I’m cumming, baby. You fuck me so good. So good. Ahhh. Ahhh. YES!” I felt her pussy clamp onto my cock like a limpet sticking to the keel of a ship.
As she exulted, my dam burst, and I let loose a torrent of semen from my now-aching balls. I don’t know where it all came from, considering they had been emptied less than two hours previously, but somehow, my gorgeous wife had managed to make me deliver a bumper load as I felt my cum start to squelch out of her overflowing pussy.
I collapsed onto her. Out of breath, dripping sweat and barely conscious.
“I want to meet this young lady who swallowed your first load of the day. That’s my job!” Wifey said, only half-jokingly.
In all our years together, she’s only caught me out a couple of times. But, unfortunately, this was one of those times.
“You’re joking, right?” I questioned nervously.
“Not at all. She stole my breakfast from me. I want revenge, and you wanted three in a bed.”
“Say that again,” I asked. Not sure that I had heard correctly.
“I’m just messing with you; we’re not going there. But, she seems like a good time gal, and it’s been ages since I watched you with another woman. So, fancy your chances with me backing you up as your wingwoman?”
She was deadly serious, I realised.
