The Older The Whyne… (Part 1)
I was at my table, tablet in hand, and my steaming coffee had just been served; dark, not black, but with just enough sweetness. The cafe had started to wind down for the day and soon, I was the only customer left.
I had been enjoying my coffee, it went along well with my mood and the book I had been reading. Some romance was about to kick off in the scene when the young man who’d been serving me came back around asking if I needed anything else. “No, thank you. This cup and its next refill is all I need, dark and lightly sweet is perfect.” “Alright ma’am,” he said, “take your time and enjoy your book, we’re the only ones left here and I’m in no hurry to close up just yet.” I was grateful for the welcome and said as such and he left to go about his business.
A while later, I noticed a shadow cross in front of me and I looked up to find him walking to a seat across from me. I saw he had his cup and got curious.
I asked as he took his seat, “Are you having cold coffee? I don’t see any steam. “Oh no, just some red wine. Lightly aged and sweet is how I like mine.” I thought I heard him whisper, “Just like you,” after that, and I blushed for the life of me.
“I’m not that old joor,” I told him, hiding my face in my cup of coffee. He smiled before asking, “Is that your way of agreeing that you’re sweet?”. “Well I’m not bitter” I retorted. Oh my god! What was this boy doing to me? Why was my 49-year-old ass answering like a 16-year-old? Embarrassment must have been mixed with my coffee cause I was suddenly full of it. He must have noticed, ’cause he laughed and came over to sit closer-right in front of me.
“If it makes you feel any better, I like to think of myself as dark and just sweet enough, just like your coffee” I dropped my cup back to the table then and staring him in the eye, asked “Young man, are you flirting with me?” If that question surprised him, he didn’t show it in the slightest. Instead, he drew closer to me and asked “Would that be such a bad thing?”
As he said this, he got so close. I felt flush and hot all of a sudden, and I don’t think it was the coffee’s fault. My insides were fluttering and I instinctively clamped my legs tighter. I could smell the wine on his breath, the red wine smelt sweet indeed, was that whiff enough to get me horny? I was bothered he could tell his effect on me. I don’t know how I felt about that.
I cleared my throat very intentionally, “No” I told him. “Sorry? I didn’t quite catch that” he teased as he changed seats again, this time, sitting right beside me. I repeated myself then, facing him, more confidently than before. “No, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing”. He held me by my chin then, drawing my face to him, forcing me to meet his eyes with them. They were such young eyes, I was jealous. I felt like I was salivating.
He was stroking my jawline now, and I didn’t realize when I had opened up and parted my lips for him. “What if I kissed you now then?”, he asked. “Would that still be alright?” His eyes mirrored mine now, and I only saw lust in them. I could only nod my head.
He reached to kiss me, and I grabbed him right back. I think the romance book I had been reading was influencing me more than I thought because it all came out of me. That kiss was a gateway to things I never exactly thought I’d do, much more with a younger man.
He kissed me, he fondled me, and he grabbed me in places that needed to be grabbed. This young man manhandled me, and I loved it. I didn’t know how it had happened but I found myself straddling him, on the couch, in the Cafe, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. The taste of wine on his lips and tongue didn’t help, it pulled me in more.
My breasts and nipples responded quickly to him, my long, maxi skirt bunched itself up-I refuse to believe I did that too. His bare hands roamed my thighs, my back, the back of my head, and my low-cut hair gave him easy access. He massaged my brain and tickled my skull, he fucked my mouth with his tongue, and it wasn’t enough.
I had figured out he was big on consent and I appreciated it, but it was taking too long so I guided him. I moved him and his hand on my thighs found the edge of my panties. I may have been older, but I liked the freedom of thong-less underwear and he found this out soon enough too. His other hand got the idea and found its way inside my top. One open button became 3, and then 4, and then my breasts lay bare in front of him.
His lips left mine then, and we stared at each other, panting. I couldn’t help noticing the bulge that lay perfectly between my legs, and his eyes wouldn’t leave my rising and falling chest – breasts. I was warm all over, but a little wet somewhere too.
His hands found my waistline then and he began rocking me, my panties to the bulge underneath his linen pants. He rocked me back and forth and soon I knew the rhythm and the pleasure of it on my own, my hands held his shoulders for support and I continued the good work. Dry humping had never felt this good.
The temptation of my breast s in from of him must have finally won, because he dove with his mouth and caught one between his teeth. He bit lightly and the sensation nearly killed me. I lost my grinding rhythm then as I bucked and jerked on top of him. If he had been inside me then, I’d have cum.
His fingers traced my panties again now, till they caught the band and re-enacted Chris brown’s lyrics. I felt the cool air of the cafe hit my pussy then and the warmth of his fingers right after. My hands left his shoulder for his hair and I surrendered every last drop of control.
The young sweet precious man found my clit right about then, but before he could work his magic on her, we heard a knock at the door. “Open up Bayo, it’s me!”