Anonymous

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One boy seduces another in a coffee shop.
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That boy. He came into my coffee shop one day, pulled a stool out from under the counter, and sat with his chin resting on his hand. Looking at me with wide dark eyes, he smiled slightly. I was busy, distracted. I turned off the steamer but forgot to wipe the handle. In the midst of filling another order, I asked him what he wanted.

I made him a mocha, decorated with whipped cream and thin shavings of chocolate, embarrassing myself by serving him before I finished with the people before him. I sang along with the music playing over the speakers, trying valiantly to ignore him. Sneaking glances out of the corner of my eye, I took in every detail of the boy's appearance. He ate the whipped cream off his drink with a spoon, parting his full pink lips to let the white froth into his mouth, suggestive, almost trashy. He had short bleached hair tipped with bright blue, tan skin, broad and muscular shoulders. 18. Dreamy. Not my type, but somehow so attractive. Whenever I turned my head he was looking at me, his eyes tipping up from the book he was reading, then darting back down, lashes black against his skin. The milk I was steaming overflowed; I startled and spilled it on the front of my shirt. I rolled my eyes at my own lack of concentration. My cheeks burned. He quickly hid a smile.

I went into the bathroom and unbuttoned my shirt, slid it off. As I wet a paper towel, the door opened; the bathroom was a single stall, but I had forgotten to lock it. I looked in the mirror and saw him behind me. Feeling braver, I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Sorry about that.... You seem pretty busy. Do you want help?" His words were inane, but somehow sexy, a transparent ploy. I fell for it, halfway on purpose.

"I've got it. I'm not that dumb."

He took the damp towel out of my hand and set it on the counter. Still behind me, still looking at me in the mirror, he ran his hands down my sides over the ribbed undershirt, his hands coming to rest on my waist. I put my palms on the countertop, arched my back slightly. He had locked the door when he came in. I wasn't on a break, but I deserved one. My jeans-encased ass brushed against the front of his pants. He turned me to face him, his lips near mine, his firm gaze on me. He pulled me closer and kissed me, holding me against him, his soft lips opening to reveal a darting tongue and the lingering taste of chocolate. I caught his lower lip between my teeth, bit him gently, felt his cock begin to harden. His strong hands rubbed my back and grabbed my ass as I slid my own hands under his t-shirt, touching the soft skin of his back and the hard, thick muscles beneath. I broke the kiss long enough to pull his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor as I bent my head to take one of his small, brown nipples into my mouth. Feeling the muscles of his chest beneath my cheek, I flicked my tongue over the hard bit of flesh and heard him gasp slightly.

He ran his hands over my upper body and we kissed again, his tongue in my mouth and his fingers on my collarbone, pecs, nipples, stomach. He slid one hand to the small of my back, the other along the zipper of my jeans, feeling the hardness underneath. Suddenly nervous, I took a deep breath and unbuckled his belt, painfully slowly unzipping his black pants, revealing grey boxers with a big bulge in the front. My cock was hard almost to bursting, and all I wanted was to take this boy's meat into my soft, wet mouth. He fumbled with my zipper, unfastening my jeans and sliding them down over my tight round ass to my ankles, gripping my cock with one hand and cupping my balls in the other. He moved his warm hand gently up my shaft, rubbing the head with his thumb as I slid my hand into his fly, freeing from his pants an eight-inch, circumcised cock. I bit my lip at the sight, and my cock got even harder. I couldn't wait: I knelt before him and kissed the head of his beautiful dick, causing him to arch his back, running a hand over my shaved head.

I opened my mouth and ran my tongue over the head of his cock, sliding the wetness over the smooth, taut skin. Reaching up, I wrapped a hand firmly around the shaft as I accepted the head into my mouth, sucking gently, my tongue busy with the sensitive skin beneath the head. The boy let out a quiet groan. I slid more of his meat along my tongue, relaxed my throat, jacking him off with my hand. The head reached the back of my mouth, and I took a deep breath and slid it down my throat until I had taken almost his entire eight inches into my mouth, tightening my wet lips around the base of his cock, swallowing around the head. His moan was louder this time.

"That's it, take my cock. You're a good little cocksucker, damn," he said softly as he began to thrust against my face. Guiding him with one hand on his ass, my other hand playing with his balls, I smelled soap and boy-sweat in front of my face. His cock was getting harder. I pulled my head back, began to jack him off as I tongued the head of his dick. He fucked my wet mouth slowly, then faster; I took him down my throat again.

"Fuck, don't stop," he gasped, and I tightened my hand around the base of his cock. "I'm gonna come," he whispered. His hard ass thrust forward and I opened my mouth, his head on my tongue as he began to shoot. The slippery come spurted onto my face, dripped down my throat; I tried to catch every drop in my mouth as he looked down at me. I jacked him off more slowly, getting all the come I could from his hot cock as it began to soften in my hand. He pulled me to my feet and kissed me, tasting his own come.

"You're pretty fucking good at that, boy," he said, a teasing smile on his face as he backed me up against the sink. He took my hard cock in his hand as he groped my butt. I sighed with pleasure at the feeling of his firm hands on my flesh. As he watched my cock and his hand sliding up and down the length, I watched his face, the stubble along his jawline, his downcast eyes. I was so horny from making this hot boy come that I knew it wouldn't be long for me. He gripped my cock firmly, touching it all the right ways, his fingers passing over the head. Leaning over, he bit my earlobe.

"Come on," he whispered. "I want you to shoot your load all over me." His words made me even hotter and I let out a soft groan.

I arched forward. "I'm gonna fucking come," I said, clutching the edge of the counter behind me. A dizzying feeling swept through me and exploded into a breathtaking orgasm, my white come shooting onto his hand, his cock, the front of his pants. The wetness slid down my shaft under his hand and made me come even harder, thrusting forward against his hand. I began to breathe again as the orgasm subsided. He rubbed my come across my pubic hair, found the paper towel on the counter, and attempted to wipe off his pants.

We put our clothes back on, and he wetted a new paper towel, cleaning the milk off the front of my shirt. He kissed me and left the bathroom. I leaned against the counter for a second, trying to catch my breath and appear composed. When I left the bathroom, I suddenly felt shy. Noting that the coffee shop had calmed down and my coworker was doing fine on her own, I tried to busy myself in the back of the shop, wondering if the boy was still there. After a few minutes I took a deep breath and went back behind the counter. He had left the money for his coffee under the empty cup. As I picked it up, a white piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

"Call me," it said, a phone number scrawled in black. I grinned.

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