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Home » Erotic Stories » Romance Stories
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Above A Coffeehouse
By: J. Leverett
The following is a work of fiction. In real life, be sure to practice safe sex.
Every morning I had a donut and cup of coffee at the same tiny place. It was never crowded, which was one of the reasons I loved it. There were times when hours would pass without any customers coming in and the staff would get to sit down with the people that hung around all day. Most of them called themselves writers or artists, but to be honest, the only paper I saw any of them with was a napkin. No one here even seemed to care about the news.
Then there was her: The mystery woman. She always seemed to be at the coffeehouse at the same time I was, sitting alone each time in a suit or dress and sunglasses. No one knew her name, even though she was there each day and even lived above the cafe. All anybody seemed to know about her was that she took her Vanilla Sunrise coffee black and that she always left a perfect lipstick kis against the porceline of her cup when she finished it.
I loved to watch her sitting there. She rarely spoke to anyone, just sat there and drank. The woman gave the place a sense of intimacy that only lonliness can bring. Funny how things like that sometimes work, but it's true. The woman could be sitting there at noon but you would swear that it was midnight in the 1920's and the only light outside was the moon and a lone sleep lamp.
She became sort of an addiction for me, the one thing that no matter what was wrong in my life, I could count on seeing her everyday and that little constant was enough to make everything perfect for those seconds.
Then, one day, I slept late.
I hurried down to the coffeehouse for my regular breakfast and a glimpse of the woman, but I was too late. When I walked, her table was empty and her kissed cup was waiting to be washed.
Like any other addict, I needed my fix. I listened hard above the hubbub of the cafe for any noise coming through the ceiling. Was the mystery woman home?
I tapped a woamn at the bar on the shoulder. "Where's the bathroom?"
"In the back, hon, just through that door."
The door to the bathroom also led to the staircase to the floors above. Slowly, I tip-toed up the steps, careful not to let the wood even creak. The last thing I wanted to do was get caught. What can I say? Even a girl who wears nothing but black, is heavily peirced and with hair dyed blue has little fears.
At the top of the staircase was a long, musty hallway with just one door at the very end. Lucky me, it was open a crack so that when I got there, I could press flat against the wall and look inside.
There she was, naked and standing in front of her sloset, searching for something to wear. Her perfectly curved body seemed to have this aura around it from the morning sun coming up through the lace curtains on the other side of her.
She wasn't alone. A man in jeans suddenly stepped behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders and nuzzeling her neck. The front of his pants were undone, so the denim flaps seemed to center her buttocks between them. It wasn't hard to figure out that my mystery woman felt something poking her behind, especially when she giggled and said, "You want to play again?"
I watched his large hands move to the front of her, cupping and pinching the points of her breasts. She turned to pull his face closer for a deep kiss, all the while working her ass back into him. The woman opened her legs a little more, then scratched her nails through the trimmed curls there before dipping between her thighs. The next motion made it hard to tell if she was rubbing herself or stroking the shaft behind her.
My own hand was busy trying to keep up the stirrings this live show was causing. Sometime in the last few seconds, I had undone the button of my pants and slid down the short zipper. My fingers worked my clit, slit, even massaged the fleshy folds around all of it through the ever moistening front triangle of my thong. My aroused nipples were straining against the sheer material of my shirt to an almost painful point. One of my nipple rings even got snagged on a stray thread and the bite jolted straight between my legs. It's a hard thing to describe to the world, but the womwn know what I'm talking about. That harsh sensation was so pleasurable, my breath spasmed.
The finger in my jeans grabbed the crotch of my underwear and began pulling the fabric forward. As the black silk dug into my groin, the lubrication my body naturally provided that had yet to be absorbed coated my hand. Oh, it was so good! I clenched my sex the best I could to hold onto what my own panties were helping me to feel while I took the time to savor the flavor on my fingers.
"What was that?"
It was the man's voice. I guess even my teeth biting into my lower lip wasn't enough to suppress my groan.
The man peeked around the door frame, catching me before I even had the cahnce to straighten my clothes. "Well, well," he grinned. "I think I found someone else who wants to play." And just like that, with my jeans open and my underwear all but off, he pulled me into the apartment, slamming the door behind us.
I had absolutely no time to react. Before I knew it, my mystery woman, who had always been so calm and docile at her table each morning, was taking control and turning me to face the wall. She grabbed my wrists, lifting them above my head and pressing her naked body into my back. I could feel her breasts pointing through my shirt, making me even hornier. Her wet mound pressed hard into my denim clad ass and her breath moved over my bare neck. As I imagined what the two of us must look like, the erotic charge pulsing through me forbid me to move.
Thank god she was too excited to stop. My breath became shallow and quick as her fingers walked little steps down my arms. I felt a bite on my collar bone and heard that same giggle as when that man came up behind her when my head rolled back.
In a flash, She lifted the hem of my shirt and practically ripped the garment over my head. Before it even hit the floor, her hands were on my small breasts, fingering the mounds while her pinkies slipped through the loops of my nipple rings to give them hard tugs. "Ugh!" I gritted my teeth ath the pleasure/pain and shook off the sweat pouring down my face. Pressing the open front of my pants against the wall, I tried desperately to get off somehow. Anyhow.
But she wouldn't let me. Quickly, the woman let go of my chest and grabbed my hips to stop the motion. Kneeling behind me, I felt her roll my pants and thong down just enough to uncover my butt and secret entrance. Then, with a slap to the right cheek and a bite to the left, my mystery woman was gone.
I turned around to grasp after her, but the man forced me toward the wall again. I screamed when his arm went around my waist to pull my most private parts to his.
"No!" I screamed. "I want you, not him!"
His hard length slid in between my wet lips. Each thrust was harder than the last, forcing my hips to surge along with his.
I felt a soft hand move over my belly and push us backward. The man and I fell to the carpet, and he never broke his bucking rythm. Apparently, He didn't even notice our position had changed. I couldn't have been more excited about it because when I looked up, my mystery woman grabbed me by the hair and forced my face into her groin.
She tasted like everything a mystery should be: Red wine, smoke, a sweet honey flavor of jazz. I could not get my peirced toungue deep enough into her. The more I chewed her labial lips and flicked her bud with my diamond stud, the more she shuddered and came on my taste buds.
I grunted into her when I felt something pinch my own clit and fell fell back in a hard orgasm.
She's still there, everyday at the same table, drinking the same coffee and leaving a little kiss on her coffee mug. I still don't know her name. Every once in a while though, she raises her sunglasses at me and motions toward the back stair well.
I wonder if she's thinking what I'm thinking.
Joshua Leverett,
Texas
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