Coffee Break
This is an odd update. Odd in the sense that I started out writing it in real time, as it was happening, and then had to finish it after the fact. I wrote it on Sunday. So bear with me on the tenses and all that crap…
I’m in Starbucks. I came here to get out of my place and to write a long-overdue update for the blog. I don’t really know what I’m going to write about – just a general state of the nation kind of thing since I haven’t updated in a trillion or so years. I’m still chilling in my undefined-but-fun relationship with King Kong. Lizzie says a little definition would surely kill me - the relationship kind, not the muscle tone kind - it’s the story of my life. Work is the same. Hot Sales Guy still teases me but for the first time in a long time I feel like it might actually be possible to turn him, to get him to pitch (or maybe even catch) for my team – and oddly, or not so oddly, I’m not as interested anymore. The government still sucks and I can’t get over why I might get busted and go to jail buying a bag of weed but the president gets to lie, cheat and steal all day long and we pay him to do it. Seriously, how do I get his job?
So I’m looking out the window, staring at that his typical New York crazy lady spreading birdfeed on the ground under the windows of Starbucks. She waits for the pigeons to swoop in and eat the shit up and the minute they do she starts clapping hysterically, scaring the shit out of the pigeons, and sending them flying for cover. So not even odd for New York.
There’s this guy on his iMac sitting at another table, facing me. He has short, buzzed hair and a really handsome, round face. He’s rocking long kinda-funk sideburns and blue eyes. His body looks tight, a nice chest for sure, and he’s trim and my crotch is stirring. I kept looking over at him. All of a sudden I’m consumed with lust and curiosity. He’s got white ipod wires framing his handsome face. He’s looking back at me. I’m looking up over the top of my laptop screen while I type and catching him looking over here. I raise an eyebrow to suggest interest but remain cool. I’m pretty sure he’s gay, in his crisply ironed, bright red Lacoste polo shirt - but you never know.
So this is cool. I don’t think I’ve ever real-time hooked up while I’ve blogged. I’ve totally updated while a guy was asleep in my bed but not as I’m trying to score.
I’m wearing a long-sleeved, blue, button-down shirt open over a black t-shirt. I slip the button-down off and let it hang on the chair and I puff out my chest, correcting my posture and trying to show off some goods. I sneak a peek over and make sure he’s looking and then I lean back in my chair into a shameless stretch. Flexing as best I can, and leaning back far enough for my t-shit to ride up my stomach, I put on my own sad little show. On purpose I’m not looking at him but I hope to hell it’s working, drawing even a hint of interest. The stretch was a little long and I finally settle back to my computer and type for a second – these words actually - and then look up at him again.
Busted! I just caught him looking at me. He smiled. My cock throbbed in my jeans and I smiled back.
Now he’s up at the counter, ordering something as I strain to hear him. He has a really deep voice - almost like Stephen Merritt but not quite. He reaches into the back pocket of his not-so-well-fitting jeans and flexes his arm which is hot to watch. He’s wearing one of those yellow Lance Armstong bracelet things that were all the rage a few years back and bright-white, never-sullied tennis sneakers. He’s paying with a card of some sort and he’s smiling, outlining deep dimples on his cheeks. He stands with his legs spread like he’s a bottom used to getting fucked well. He wobbles from foot to foot looking like I need to fuck him hard.
He just looked over his shoulder from the counter and I quickly looked away, letting him catch me for a second. God, this whole thing is so second grade but there is something so intoxicating and exciting about it. About flirting like this in a Starbucks and writing it all up as it happens. I think about tons of guys reading it and how the dude in the red Lacoste has no clue what really is going on.
He has a great ass, much meatier than his frame would suggest. He’s walking back to his chair, his new drink in hand. I need to make something happen. I’m rubbing my cock in my pants and I can feel the damp, sticky precum that’s clinging to my thigh and underwear. I’m crazy hard. I just stare at him a little but he doesn’t look back. Fuck it. I’m getting up and to throw my empty drink out. Maybe I’ll stop at his table, or at least slow down as I pass. Shit, I just realized there is a garbage can closer to me that would not require me to pass his table. Did he see me notice it? I hope not. Maybe I can just pretend I don’t know it’s there and walk by him anyway. That’s what I’m going to do. He’s still not looking over here so he probably doesn’t know that I’ve seen the closer can. Okay, here goes…
It worked. I paused by his table with a big gulp of guts and this is how the conversation went:
“Hey.”
He said, “Hi,” and smiled.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Not much; finishing a paper that’s taking way too long.”
“Where are you in school?”
“NYU. Stern, actually,” He said.
“Cool,” I said; Stern is the b-school at NYU so at least I know he’s not undergrad. “Kind of far from home aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m meeting a friend to go the movies in a few hours. Figured I’d head over here for a change of pace. My usual diner is getting tired.”
“I hear you. What are you seeing?”
“Sex and the City.”
“Cool,” I said, “I haven’t seen it yet.”
He doesn’t say anything back, he just looks at me, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. I just keep looking at him and finally he says, “What’re you up to?”
“Writing about this hot guy in Starbucks.”
“Huh?” He says with a smile.
“I write for fun, stories and shit, and I got distracted by this hot guy in Starbucks. I ended up writing about him.”
“What did you write?”
“Just some observations, how he turned me on, how I wondered if he was into ditching the coffee joint and fucking.”
“And was he interested?” Red Lacoste guy asked.
“I haven’t gotten that far,” I said.
He looked at his watch with a super expectant, like about to explode smile, and said, “I bet he’d be interested.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
So that’s why I’m over here typing in this last shit while he finished his paragraph or whatever and packs up his laptop. I’m hitting power now. If the sex is hot, I’ll write it up and post it later.
Well he’s gone, it was hot, and his ass was totally blog-worthy. So here goes:
We got back to my place and were like instantly making out, we barely talked. His name was Jason – I at least learned that much on the way back to my place. So we were making out – sucking face really – with this crazy energy. My whole face was wet with saliva while he was aggressively kissing my lips and nose and everything else. I was plunging my tongue into his mouth and forcefully tongue-fucking it. It was like we both had this crazy fever of sexual need.
We got naked really quickly and his body was tight and lean and he had a light stubble on his chest from where he’d shaved. And his plump ass was like two heaping handfuls of muscle perfection: just enough soft skin to make me want to take a bite out of a cheek. My cock was throbbing between my legs and I pushed him back into a chair and started to lick up his shaft and tease the head of his cock. He was wiggling around, obviously unsure what to do with his hands: placing them on my head, on the arms of the chair, on my shoulders, holding them aloft in the air. I was plunging down on his cock, deep-throating his to the base and he was feeling too good to have proper control of his motor skills. It was fun. His cock was fun. And mine was dripping still.
I pulled his cock aside and stroked it with my hands while I went to work on his nuts. He kept sliding further down in the seat, pushing his ass toward the edge, to give me better access to his nuts. I was slobbering over them, covering them with saliva, and he was breathing hard and panting. I went back to his cock which was so hard I was afraid he would cum right then. I slurped on it some more and he egged me on and then he kept telling me to fuck him. Quick, I thought, but I didn’t want him to blow before I got in his ass and, well, I like to obey when I can.
I jumped up, my cock wagging, excited in anticipation, little drips of cum flying around the room. And he grabbed me by the cock and pulled me toward him before I could go get some rubbers and lube. He sucked me in his mouth - but just a for a minute. Then he spit me out and said, still panting, “You’ve got to fuck me. Now.”
Like I said, I like to try oblige. So I got a rubber and rolled it down over my cock, he pushed his ass further to the end of the chair and pulled his legs up so his knees were nearly touching his ears - he was gymnast-flexible. I found out later that he was actually a gymnast in college and that he still kept himself pretty fucking limber. I lined my cock up with his hole and pushed against his sphincter. He breathed in sharply and let his head hang back while I pushed my cock further inside him. He grimaced for a second and held his breathe and egged me on. I pumped in further and then let him get used to my cock in his ass. I started to pump against him slowly and then rapidly gained momentum. His cock was hard and I was stoking it with one hand while my cock was disappearing in his hole and his nuts were bouncing against my lower stomach. His ass was great, tight and meaty and he was massaging my cock with his asswalls, super-warm and perfect-tight.
We were both getting sweaty and hot and my cock felt great and I pulled out of his ass and we both panted for a minute. He got up and rubbed his ass and fingered his hole while he was standing. We pushed aside a stack of magazines that were on the floor and he got on all fours and looked back at me over his shoulder. That amazing ass was there for the taking and I spread his cheeks apart and pushed my cock inside. Just a little, slowly, teasing him at first. He kept looking over his shoulder, pressing me to go further and I did. But shut a little. Then I pulled out some more and he looked at me again with a get-it-on look of exasperation. I grabbed hold of his waist and pumped in hard, sending my cock all the way in, balls-deep. He groaned and then I started fucking him hard and fast. Pumping and slamming. He was rocking back and forth and kept telling me to fuck him harder between gasps and groans. No matter how hard I slammed my cock in his ass he would tell me that he wanted more. He was saying shit like he knew that wasn’t all I had, and to really it give it to him; he was reassuring me that he could take – and shit, could he ever. He fell onto his elbows and his head was on the floor and the carpet we were on was sliding across the floor with our momentum.
His cock was still hard and he pushed himself back up and began to stroke himself. He was pumping his cock faster and faster and he kept telling me to fuck him, again and again, and harder and harder. Sweat was flying off of me and landing in drops on his arched back. I felt his ass tightening even more and then he started to grunt and lift himself up a bit. His asscheeks became hard like boulders and his chute tight and he pumped harder and harder. I wrapped my arms around his chest and pinched one of his nipples while biting down on his shoulder, exasperated. And he came hard with my cock still poking in and out of his ass.
He was stroking himself off and the cum was still dripping out when I started to pump into him a little harder and he let himself fall forward again and my cock slipped all the way up his ass and I let go. I felt my head explode and the tingles and shudders overtook me while I felt goosebumps fly up my legs and onto my ass. Shit. I dumped a great load up his ass and it was fan-fucking-tastic. I had after shocks and an unusually long orgasm before I was finally able to pull myself back out.
We both were lying on the floor, panting and she said, “Nice to meet you.”
“You too, dude,” I said, “That’s my new favorite Starbucks.”
He laughed and told me I was horny and then asked if he could grab a shower. He still had to go meet his friend for a movie, he was all sweaty, and he didn’t have much time. He left me his number and email and I gave him my info too. He was a really fun fuck. Shit.
And now, Wednesday, as I’m finally posting this thing, I can tell you that he called me yesterday and asked if I wanted to meet for a coffee. I told him that now he was the one who was corny but we agreed to meet tomorrow night.
2 years ago