A Café with a View Ch. 03

I fucking tell you what. He might as well have said he was going to send me to Alpha Centaurii with a ten tentacled alien as a personal escort. I could not believe my fucking ears. I sat there totally speechless. LOL, that's a first!

"I was very impressed when you spoke about the potential for a franchise by the campsite," the HOG-suit said. He appeared to be completely serious.

My brain could still not process it. There was a very large missing link for me.

"Who the fuck are you?" I blurted out. I didn't mean for it to sound so angry but I was getting scared. I don't like to be out of my depth. You wouldn't either if 'out of your depth' had ever meant way over your head having the crap beaten out of you and the brains fucked out of you.

The HOG looked taken aback. "I ... I own it," he stammered. "I own the chain. This café, the whole chain is my family business."

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Talk about the big one. I had to go and flash my arse, fucking a man on a motorbike (and a fucking BMW FFS), in front of the big boss. And then seduce him into an arse-fuck. Fuck me slowly over a barrel. (That's not a fucking invitation, because I am a one man woman these days, starshine.)

I started hysterically laughing. It was too much! I thought the HOG was cruising along the woodland roads for pleasure - but he had fucking come out himself to check out a dip in his family's catering business cashflow. And had ended up dipping his dick in it.

I think it was the rollercoaster emotions really. I mean, I was that fucking glad when I saw the HOG had come back to me. Then I was so scared because he was in a suit. I poured my guts out because I needed him to know: what my life had been like, how I'd ended up such a slag, that I wasn't really a slag. I felt so sorry about him never getting a fuck off his own fucking wife (or rather, non-fucking wife) and pleased he'd seen through that little tramp who tried to poach him off her. And now this. I was having a fucking full blown hysterical fit, rocking to and fro, crying, hiccoughing with laughter.

The HOG fetched a glass of water and threw it in my face. I sat gasping and still sniffing and crying.

"I'm so sorry," the HOG said contritely. "I've totally fucked it up."

Well I started laughing again then and he made a move to get more water. "Fuck no!" I cried out. "I'm fine, I'm fine." I wiped the tears from my eyes, the water from my face and tried to stop giggling.

"I expect you need time to consider my offer," the HOG-suit said.

I sat on the chair in the sunny café in the woods, my face and the front of my crappy black dress soaking wet.

"That was a really nice coffee," the HOG-suit said. "I genuinely think your understanding of the business needs in this region will be a considerable asset in our next planned phase of expansion."

I'm not fucking kidding you, he spoke just like that. He was so fucking sweet, trying to convince me that he wasn't just doing this to get into my knickers.

The HOG was nobody's fool. He knew he would be welcome to stick his dick over my knicker gusset into any hole he wanted to put it in. Anyway, he was right. I was fucking smart, really, and capable of doubling his company's turnover. If you'd asked me back then, I would've pretended I thought I could do that and said: "Fuck you, I could treble it." Last year, the HOG and I together put the company on the stock market and we made a fucking mint so now I know that I can do it.

I said to the HOG: "Would you be willing to fuck one of your managers, though?"

Now it was the HOG's turn to burst out laughing. He said: "I will never fuck with you. I should like to make love to you, though."

Oh man. He fucking broke me up. I couldn't even look at him after he said that. He must be the only man in the fucking world who can shut me up.

"How about it?" said the HOG. Then he put the cherry on top. "We have a partner company in Italy. There are frequent business trips out there."

The fucking bastard. He had found out I had specialised in Italian studies all through my degree. I was so excited I was wetting my knickers nearly as much as my chest and face. If he had gone on one knee and asked me to marry him, I couldn't have been more thrilled. I started babbling. "Can we ride on a Vespa? Can we go to the Vatican and see the Apollo Belvedere?"

"A Vespa?" he said in astonishment. "You ride a Deus ex Machina Grievous Angel and you want to ride a Vespa?"

"Like Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck in Roman Holiday!" I explained. "And Gucky? Can I go to the Gucky shop?"

"Gucky?" he said. "What's Gucky?"

Doh! Fancy not knowing Gucky! "You know," I said impatiently. "Gucky, the leather shop."

"Ohhhh," he said. "Goochy." His eyes started twinkling and he bit his lip.

Fucking Hell. What a fucking stupid way to say it. I mean, would you ever imagine something spelt Gucci would be pronounced Goochy. Stupid fucking Italians. I was very cross.

The HOG tried hard to placate me. "With your salary you'll be able to buy out the whole shop," he said. "Well ... half of it perhaps."

He was still laughing, the fucking bastard. I got off my chair and went to smack his face. He caught my hand and we looked at each other and then we walked into each other's arms and began to kiss. It wasn't very elegant. My face was wet and the HOG was still snorting with laughter. Our lips mashed in and I pushed my tongue in his mouth. He hugged me very close, sucking on my tongue. I made a choking noise because I had started to cry again. We just carried on kissing and crying and laughing.

When we finally stopped kissing, I stood away from the HOG and said stupidly: "What the fuck do you want me for?"

As I said it, I had swung to the side and I caught sight of myself in the mirror by the toilets. My eyes were still blurry with tears so what I saw was in soft focus and maybe that explains it.

I don't have curves like that actress but I saw my face looking just like the young girl's in A Room with a View. It was shy and uncertain, the face of someone who knows at heart what she wants but is too scared to take it when it's being held out to her on a plate. I had a crappy black dress on but I'm tall with nice legs and a great arse. In a little black dress with my hair scraped back in a pony tail, I looked like Audrey Hepburn. I looked back at the HOG under my lashes. I used to think men went for me because they are dogs who will fuck anything. Then I saw myself through the HOG's eyes and I knew I was beautiful.

The HOG and I went out to his car and fetched a picnic rug he kept in the boot. I locked up the café and we walked off deep into the woods. We threw the rug down and started to undress. We undressed ourselves and each other. It took a long time. We were kissing and trying to unpick each others' buttons at the same time.

I felt bad that I only had on a pair of cotton knickers and an old bra. The bra was a favourite of mine I hadn't been able to bear to throw away: pale green with a tiny silver heart dangling in the cleavage. The HOG fingered my heart while I undid the bra straps.

I don't have much tit to boast about, like I said before. But size doesn't matter, eh boys? It's not what you've got, it's what you do with it. And what the HOG did to my boobs made me cream and moan and practically cum on the spot.

He put his hands over my tits and fingered them gently. He put his mouth to one and sucked it and licked it till the nipple was standing out like the liquorice sticking out of a sherbert fountain. He carried on fondling my other tit with his fingers while sucking on my left tit until I was fucking fizzing like the sherbert in the fountain.

It was his turn. I knelt in front of him wearing only a pair of old cotton knickers and pulled his cock out of his grey suit trousers and jockey shorts. He was already stiff, precum in a drip on his slit. I licked the head of his cock bulging out of the foreskin. I pressed my fingers gently on his cock while I took the head in my mouth. Slowly I sucked the whole of his shaft in, moving my head to and fro to give the HOG good vibrations. I went down and down his shaft, the HOG was grunting and pushing my head but suddenly he said: "Fuck! I can't take any more!"

We would have to do the full blowjob another day. Sometimes sex is for fun, but that day the HOG and I needed to get deep in and close.

I eased my mouth off his cock and lay back. The HOG pulled my cotton knickers off my long legs then he sniggered and put them in his pocket. He went down on me with his eyes twinkling. He started lapping at my cream, sticking his tongue around my cunt. He played his tongue around my clit until I was writhing and begging him for it.

Like I said, the HOG is smart so although he thought he was coming out to offer me a management position not the missionary position, he had brought along a Mates UltraThin. He slipped it on and came up to lie naked in my naked arms. We stared into each others' eyes, lying just holding each other for a moment. I felt his whole body lying the length of my body and his gaze going deep down into my eyes.

The HOG's pale blue eyes weren't twinkling, they had that serious keen gleam in them. Whenever he looks deep into my eyes with that keen stare, it makes my heart bump in my chest and my cunt cream. Above his head, I could see the branches of the trees and the blue sky. I felt the head of his cock against the mouth of my cunt. He slid in through my lips, his thick girth gliding up in me, his cock up inside me, his pubis pressed to my clit. His naked chest was pressed to my breasts.

The HOG started rocking into me. I was spreading my legs and rising up to him. My cunt was clasping round his cock. I felt all of him pressed over me, over my hot sensitive skin. I was thrusting my whole body against his: my cunt round his cock, my clit to his pubis, my skin to his skin, my breasts to his chest. His mouth came pressing against my mouth, seeking my kiss.

The feelings were rolling up through me from his fucking cock deep in me. I was hugging him close and wrapping my lips round his as we came to orgasm. His sweating hot skin was pressed hard into my belly, my breasts, in my arms. He was fucking deep down into my cunt, with my muscles gripped round his cock to pull him in.

When we were done I didn't want him to pull out but the HOG is a smart gentleman. He pulled out before he could spill out of the condom. He dragged the side of the picnic rug over us and we lay in each other's sweating embrace, grinning and staring into each other's eyes.

I said idly: "Why the fuck does your family keep this café open anyway. It must've been losing money for years."

"Oh," said the HOG. "This is where my dad met my mum. She was a waitress in the café. He bought it because he was too shy to ask her to go to the flicks with him."

Epilogue - Roman Holiday

The HOG and I got married six months later, during a convenient break in my studies. Jan was my maid of honour and Giovanni - the son of the firm's Italian partners - was best man. Maybe he didn't properly understand the British tradition of totally shaming the groom in the best man's speech as he never let on that he had been fucked by the bride while the groom screwed her in the arse.

I thought about buying my husband a Gucky wallet for a wedding present. However his little lad and I agreed that a Mercedes-Benz cabriolet would be lots more fun (for us, that is!).

My husband gave me the café in the woods for my wedding present. I converted it into a holiday cabin, it's very convenient for a weekend stopover if we're checking up on our local campsite cafés. Sometimes too we go for a lazy cruise along the curving woodland roads on our motorbikes. It's great to go back to our cabin in the woods, the kitchenette with the red and black Gaggia espresso maker and a solid wooden family sized dining table. My husband can always be relied on to fuck me in the arse on that table for an anniversary treat. It's surprising how many fucking occasions there are which need to be properly celebrated.

There's a sign marked private on our gate. If stray bikers come up the track looking for a free ride, my husband tells them to fuck off in a voice so fucking posh it hurts, LOL.

Naturally we went to fucking Italy for the fucking honeymoon. We rode a Vespa and went to the Trevi Fountain and ate gelati (that's pronounced jellati FYI) and had a lot of other fucking delicious food I had never fucking heard of before in my fucking life. We went to the Keats-Shelley Museum and I told my husband all about the Romantic poets and he only yawned three times.

I never bothered to go and buy any Gucky stuff, though. I don't need Gucky; I got lucky.