This story contains graphic sexual scenes between males. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age in most states you are not allowed to read this story by law.
This story is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to person's living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental.
The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it has been posted, without the consent of the author.
The Barista By David Tengler, 2007
Today he'd forgotten to put on his apron and I could finally see the bulge in his tight jeans. Not a disappointment. The guy behind the counter was hot. He was concentrating on the complex coffee orders from the long line of clients and the tip of his tongue protruded from between his lips. A drop of sweat ran down his cheekbones as he ran from machine to counter, issuing staccato confirmations as he put the drinks up on the counter, "One tall soy latte, extra shot; one 1% mochaccino...' and on and on. The line was long and he never had a chance to stop.
The lean bulge of his biceps stretched the company-issue t-shirt. It clung to his pecs and showed that, most likely, there wasn't an ounce of fat on his body. I'd been waiting to see this for a long time and I found a nicely-placed table which let me look at him working behind the counter -- from crotch level.
I think he noticed.
After 3 cups of coffee (can't sit there for hours without drinking anything) nature called. The cafe's small bathroom just had a sink, urinal, and one stall.
I walked in and took the stall -- things were flowing when I heard the bathroom door open. Looking at the floor I could see a pair of familiar shoes -- the barista's Vans. I'd been memorizing every detail on him for the last hour after all.
I came out and went over to the sink to wash up. Coffee boy was at the urinal finishing off. As the sink's water started to run he looked over. I looked back. Suddenly we both had that half-smile on our faces that showed that we each knew what the other one was thinking and thought it was a good idea.
I took advantage of the sliding latch on the door to keep us safe for a little while, and then stepped over to him. His trousers were still at half mast and he turned around -- his cock was attractive, half-hard and growing, a nice shade of very pale caramel with a largish-mushroom-shaped dick.
I kneeled and took it in my mouth, pulling his butt forward with my hands -- I needed the whole thing in my mouth as fast as possible -- that's all I'd been thinking of for hours. It grew in my mouth as I took it down my throat. He still had that half-smile on his face.
As I sucked he started to make small purring noises and whisper about the special order he had for me -- low-fat high protein.
His cock was hard now, and it was wet and slippery. He pulled me up, turned me around and bent me over the sink. Suddenly my pants were down, my cheeks were spread, and something spongy yet hard was pushing against my pucker. In another few seconds, it was working its way in. A little faster than I normally would've preferred, but there was no slowing down his ramming dick. Besides, he only had a few minutes for his break and he needed his treat fast.
It was in -- and then the true fucking started. He'd had a rough day and loved the idea of fucking one of his overprecious customers. The yelling if he used 1% instead of 2% milk had gotten to him today, and here he had a willing ass to take it out on.
It went on -- him getting faster and faster. Occasionally he would take it out for a few seconds, and I'd beg to have it back in. In it came -- at full force, no need for subtlety. I'm guessing 7 inches and thick -- just the right size for me. Meanwhile I'd spit on my hand and was stroking myself -- deep in the pleasure of this unexpected and oh-so-desired impalement.
He was getting there -- I felt that tightening in his body and slight swelling of his dick in me that indicated that he was going to come. He gave a muffled grunt and I felt his cream start shooting inside me; that was my cue. I soaked the floor with pent-up sperm.
After the last shot, I felt him pull out roughly. He washed up (yes, he washed his hands too) all the time looking at me with that half-smile on his face. He then unlocked the door and walked out. Fortunately nobody had been waiting.
I walked out of the bathroom a minute later, grabbed my stuff from my table and headed to the door. Coffee boy was already back at his espresso machine, looking somewhat less stressed than he had been, that half-smile still on his face. He saw me looking and a barely-perceptible wink made its way to me as I left.
(My first story, feedback welcome)