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 -- Part II By David Tengler, 2007
It was already hot, and the car felt like an oven. Fortunately it wasn't a workday for me, so I could keep it pretty basic. Tank top, shorts, sandals and -- who needs underwear anyhow?
I headed off to my favorite coffee place. It was mid-morning, so the morning rush was over and the lunch rush hadn't begun yet. Things were good -- mellow music, Wi-Fi and iced coffee are all I need.
And of course -- him.
Apparently they had relaxed the dress code today -- they were all wearing shorts and sandals. Where do baristas get those hot legs anyhow? Do they all play tennis after work as part of some secret society? Anyhow, those thighs and quadriceps were -- looking good.
He saw me come in and gave me that half-smile of his. He knew that seeing him in shorts would get me hard, he didn't even have to guess on that one. Cocky little bastard!
I ordered my iced latte at the counter and watched my barista making it. Was I imagining it or was there a little extra bend in his hips as he pulled the ice out of the freezer? I probably was imagining it -- he knew he didn't even need to try.
The latte came up and he gave it to me with that look of his -- down at his crotch and back at me -- so fast no one else would've noticed.
I got a little dizzy, so I sat at my favorite table with my laptop. Eventually I calmed down and started focusing on the translation work I was doing for a client. It was interesting materials and helped distract me from the coffee boy -- until...
Apparently it was his break -- he was sitting at the table across from me with what looked like an iced chai, sipping at it slowly. His legs were facing me and, when he caught me looking, he slowly and casually spread them.
I guess they really did relax the dress code this day -- looking into the legs of his loose shorts, I could see the dick that had taken me a few weeks before. Hello, old friend! And it wasn't exactly soft.
He saw me looking, pulled his pack of cigarettes out, and went out the front door. He knew I would follow -- no hints needed. And I did.
There was a small walled off area behind the kitchen and that's where we went. He wasted no time in bending me over a small picnic table they had back there, pulling down my pants, roughly grabbing my shoulders, slicking his dick with spit and pushing that familiar mushroom head up my eager hole. I was ready for it and obviously -- so was he.
The humping was fast and aggressive -- the table was barely able to withstand it -- my ass, on the other hand, did just fine.
His dick tensed, swelled, and shot it's burning load up my ass. At the same time, I gave the table some of my own juice. It was hard to let him out of my ass -- it felt like such a perfect fit.
He looked at me with his half smile and headed back in -- hopefully to wash up. I followed a few minutes later and picked up my laptop. I didn't bother to sit down again - I was a little tender in that general region.
As I headed out the door I looked back and he winked and said: "We hope you'll come again, sir!"
I think I will.
(As before, feedback more than welcome- I'm very new at this)