Coffee Shop Girl

Author's note:
I've vacillated on whether or not to submit this story. This one is pretty filthy, but I hope I've done it service by providing adequate context.
As a straight man, I always wonder how my perspective will be received by women. I know this story contains some elements many women might find distasteful. In fact, I only personally know one woman who has openly enjoyed these things. In light of this, I'm including all of the tags I used, so that you can scan through them before deciding whether you want to commit your time to reading.
Tags: blow job, cum, cunnilingus, edging, facial, pussy eating, pussy licking, teasing, younger woman, older man
As always, I appreciate feedback. Thank you for reading.
........
Shortly after my divorce I regularly found myself in a coffee shop near my house. I often needed to get out of my home studio to let the creative process breathe. The coffee shop was a serviceable place to respond to emails or simply relax and read news or books.
Shelly was a barista at the shop. I'd known her for several years through our mutual involvement in local music. We both played in offbeat bands and had frequently performed at the same shows. I admired her creativity and skill as a musician, and I'd like to think this respect was mutual. We weren't close, but I enjoyed chatting with her when I had the chance. She seemed to genuinely appreciate it when I spoke kindly of her music. I was careful about this, because male musicians can often be condescending or patronizing when talking about female musicians. There was a real element of misogyny in music. I wanted to communicate my sincere appreciation without leaving any room for it to be interpreted as a backhanded compliment.
Shelly and I flirted a little when I visited the café. I enjoyed her attention, but didn't know what to make of it. She was thirteen years younger than me. She was very beautiful and unrelentingly cool. She had tattoos and shoulder length jet black hair with severe bangs cut straight across her forehead. She often wore her hair in a high ponytail to show off the tattoo on the back of her neck. She also liked to wear bright red lipstick which I found irresistible. But I was less trendy. I didn't take her flirtation seriously. I thought she was out of my league, and truthfully I had no game. After a long marriage and being recently divorced, I didn't think women saw me as attractive, especially not beautiful younger women who could presumably have anyone they wanted. And I didn't even know if Shelly dated men, so I dismissed her attention as unserious.
Regardless, I was flattered by Shelly's flirting and we gradually got to know each other well, little by little as time elapsed.
Since I was a regular at the shop, Shelly knew my usual order. If it was busy when I arrived, I'd find a seat and simply wait for the rush to be over before approaching the counter. At some point Shelly noticed this, and instead of waiting for me to come up to the counter to order, she started bringing me a coffee when she had time. I loved it when she had time to sit down and talk, either on her break or just when the café was slow. This became a common occurrence. They were like mini coffee dates, not ostensibly romantic, but intimate in their own way. Sometimes I'd wait for a half hour or forty-five minutes before she brought my coffee, but I was never in a hurry. I specifically went to the café to relax. I was capable of making good coffee at home. It was less about the coffee and more about taking a break from my studio. And I enjoyed talking to Shelly immensely.
One day, after the lunch rush had dissipated, Shelly approached with my coffee in hand.
"You're very patient," she said with a grin.
She didn't sit down to join me like she usually did. Instead, she set my coffee on the table along with a napkin. I watched as she slid the napkin toward me slowly then lifted her hand, straightened up rigidly with her hands clenched together at her waist, spun away from me, and walked stiffly back to the counter across the room.
I looked down at the napkin and realized she'd written her phone number on it. I questioned her intentions momentarily, but decided she must have given me her number because she wanted me to ask her out. After another round of second guessing my intuition, I looked back up in search of a definitive signal, but she wasn't looking in my direction. I entered her info into my phone and texted her my name and a short message so she'd have my info, but I decided I wouldn't play the texting game.
When I was confident Shelly was no longer busy with customers I approached the counter.
"Hey, Shelly," I said as she looked up at me.
"Hey," she replied.
"Do you want to go to a show tonight?"
"Uh huh," she nodded smiling.
We made plans to meet at a rock club downtown later that evening. We both personally knew all the bands performing, and it was a very familiar environment for both of us.
When I arrived at the club Shelly was already waiting for me outside. She smiled and waved as I approached. She was Bolu Escort wearing a short denim jacket adorned by band buttons - badges as they're called in the UK. Underneath she wore a loose fitting white t-shirt tied in a knot at the waist. It was silkscreened with the name of a local band and an image of a cat. It dropped at the collar and I could see the straps of her black tank top beneath. Her pants were very tight leggings that showed off her long thin legs, slowly tapering to her black boots.
"Aloha," she said, grabbing my hand.
We entered the building holding hands and found two seats at the bar near the back of the club and as far from the music as possible. It seemed silly to come to a rock show to talk, but that's what we did. We shared a pitcher of beer and sat on our barstools facing each other, leaning in to hear our conversation. It was delightful. We talked and laughed. I tingled every time she pressed her lips to my ear to tell me something she didn't want to shout for others to hear.
Despite her timid approach at the coffee shop, Shelly was not shy. She was quite the opposite. As we chatted she made the first physical gestures of affection, sliding her hand over my knee and grabbing my wrist as she became animated telling me a story. She grew increasingly handsy as we talked, and I enjoyed her touches. I found myself returning her affection unselfconsciously. She made the physical contact feel natural and comfortable. I reached down and slid my hand behind her knee, gently massaging her calf muscle. Her hand migrated further up my thigh. Things were escalating a little too quickly and I wondered if I should back off.
Halfway through the show she paused, then spoke into my ear. "I really want to invite you to my place. I live like two blocks from here." She paused again hesitantly. "But I guess I should just tell you this. I don't want to have sex."
She looked at me expectantly, possibly wondering if this boundary was a dealbreaker for me.
"I understand," I said. "I'm really enjoying our conversation. There's no pressure to do anything physical. Truly. I'd love to come over and just talk," I replied sincerely.
I wasn't expecting sex. This was a first date, and had already become much more physical than I expected. It had been a long time since I'd even been on a date, let alone had sex with a woman. I was still trying to understand how I might feel about initiating a physical relationship with someone new, so I appreciated her setting this boundary and being clear. It made me feel more comfortable knowing sex was off the table.
"Okay, great! Let's get the hell out of here!" She said smiling.
We walked the two blocks to her apartment holding hands. It felt exciting and sweet. We ascended the stairs to the second floor and entered. Her apartment opened to the kitchen and then to a living room with two adjoining bedrooms and a single bathroom. It was a fairly small apartment that looked like it was furnished almost exclusively by IKEA. It was clean and trendy. It had been years since I lived in an apartment. I had purchased my first home when I was twenty-nine. Being in her apartment reminded me of our age difference, which I'd been able to forget up until this point.
Shelly went to the fridge and retrieved two bottles of beer and I followed her through the living room where her roommate was lying on the couch watching TV.
"Hi, Caro," I said.
"Hey, hey," she replied apathetically.
Caro was one of Shelly's band mates. I knew her through the music scene as well. She didn't seem surprised to see me or care that I was in their apartment.
"If you're going to fuck, keep it down," she called after us tauntingly as we entered Shelly's room and closed the door.
Shelly's room was neatly organized and clean. She had art on her walls, but not much else other than a queen bed, a dresser, and an air purifier.
Shelly kicked off her boots and flopped down on her bed, leaning back against the large plush bolster in front of the headboard.
"Here," she said, handing me a beer.
I kicked of my own shoes and reclined on the bed next to her. It felt a little awkward for a minute as we each nervously sipped our beers. Then she cuddled up next to me and leaned her head on my shoulder. We talked for a while before she placed her hand on my leg and began rubbing slowly. I finished my beer and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. She wriggled in my arms to face me and then slowly leaned in for a delicate kiss. I let her control the pace. I didn't want to move too fast for her, but our kissing gradually escalated. Soon we were kissing deeply and moaning into each other's mouths.
She sat up facing me and straddled my lap while we kissed. I ran my hands up and down her back, caressing her gently while I let my mouth wander over her jaw to the side of her neck, kissing and licking her softly.
"Mmm," she moaned. "It's been so long since anyone's touched me."
"Do you want me to keep touching?"
"Yes. I think so."
"I won't ask for sex."
"Mmm, okay."
"Tell me if you Bolu Escort Bayan want me to stop."
"I will."
"Why don't you turn around and lean back against me?"
She turned around in my lap and leaned back. It was perfect. I pressed my lips to that beautiful spot beneath her ponytail where her hair met her neck. I could smell her skin and hair simultaneously as I planted gentle kisses all the way down to her shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly before rubbing my palms down her bare arms. I felt her goosebumps under my fingers and heard her moan. I touched her gently for a long time, running my hands up and down her body and feeling her curves. I gradually moved lower, traveling down her sides and over her hips. I stroked her thighs and felt her legs part for me. I caressed her inner thighs as her legs parted wider in anticipation of my touch before bringing my hands back up her body. She sighed in delightful frustration as I stroked her arms again.
I slipped my hands under her t-shirt, but over her tank top and ran my palms up and down her torso, stopping just under her soft breasts. I kissed her neck and whispered in her ear.
"Do you want me to keep touching?"
"Yes," she breathed back at me.
I slid my hands up slowly and took her deceptively large breasts in both hands. She wasn't wearing a bra. She leaned back against me harder, urging me to touch her more. I closed my hands around her breasts firmly and rubbed her erect nipples with my thumbs.
She inhaled sharply as I played with her nipples and kissed her neck.
"Please," she moaned
I left one hand on her breast and slowly slid the other down her tummy toward her pelvis, changing direction just as I approached her crotch. I rubbed the inside of her leg, moving lower until I reached her knee and reversed direction, returning my hand to the very top of her thigh, but not quite touching her pussy.
"Ohhhh, please. I'm so ready," she moaned.
"Do you want me to touch your pussy, Shelly?"
"Yes, please touch my pussy, baby," she whispered back.
I slowly moved my hand forward until my finger was pressed into her crease over her leggings.
"Ohhhh," she moaned loudly as I slid my finger up and over her swollen clit.
I groaned into her ear at the feeling of her warm swollen folds enveloping my finger. I struggled to remain patient as I slid my hand under her waistband and teased my fingertips across her soft pubic hair before withdrawing again. I gently sucked her earlobe into my mouth, then kissed her neck again, before plunging my hand back down into her pants. She pressed her back into me roughly, trying to give me as much access as possible, willing me to stop teasing her. I finally complied, sliding my middle finger down the center of her crease and leaving it draped over her clit between her wet folds.
"Fuck," I moaned. "You're so wet."
"Please," she begged again. "Make me cum."
My cock throbbed at her words and the feeling of her wetness under my finger. I felt my rigid erection pressing firmly up against her as she straddled my lap. I slid my finger down and slowly slipped it into her tight entrance. From this angle I couldn't penetrate her deeply, but I felt her squeeze my fingertip before I ran my finger back up to her clit covered in her juices. I began rubbing her gently. I made small circles around her clit while I rubbed her hard nipple with my other hand. I reached down urgently and pulled her shirt and tank top up to her chin, exposing her bare breasts for my hand to tease and explore. I ran my finger up and down her wet pussy one more time before increasing my speed and pressure on her clit.
She was breathing heavily now, rocking her hips to my rhythm and moaning. I wondered if this sensation might feel familiar to her. I was touching her from the same angle she would touch herself. Then I imagined her touching herself and groaned.
She was almost limp in my arms, melted back against me, her head tossed back over my shoulder. I kissed and licked the side of her neck while I worked her clit. I could tell she was close. I rubbed her right to the edge and she inhaled sharply. I immediately backed off, allowing her to recover for a brief moment before I rubbed her again, starting slowly and increasing intensity until I once again had her dangerously close to climax before stopping.
"Please," she begged.
I repeated my slow buildup before bringing her to the edge again and stopping.
"Please!" She demanded loudly.
"Mmm. Cum for me, baby," I groaned into her ear, finally rubbing her steadily until she exploded in climax, moaning loudly, her body becoming rigid in my arms and her clit throbbing under my finger. I kissed her shoulder tenderly and held her as she shook and eventually recovered.
"Ohhh, fuck," she said laughing. "That felt so good!"
"Mmm, good," I moaned back, still kissing her gently.
She slipped off of me and turned to her side facing me.
"You made me so hot," she said. "Are you turned on?"
"I'm so fucking turned on," I admitted, Escort Bolu smiling.
She kissed me again, then snuggled up against me and lay her head on my chest. She slid her hand down my leg and wrapped it around my erection through my jeans. Then without a word she began fumbling with my zipper. I let her work at it with one hand for a minute before she finally said, "I need your help."
I reached down and unbuckled my belt. Then I unbuttoned my jeans, allowing her to easily unzip my fly. Her hand immediately slid down into my underwear. I felt her thin fingers wrap around my rigid shaft and groaned. I pushed my pants down to my thigh while she carefully guided me out. She didn't tease me or take her time. She simply moaned and started stroking my cock.
"Mmm, you're ready too, aren't you," she said pumping my cock crudely, increasing her pace.
"Mmm, god," I groaned. I hadn't been touched by a woman in close to a year. My ex wife hadn't touched me for the last eight months of our marriage. Even something as simple as a woman's soft hand wrapped around me felt intensely erotic.
She tightened her grip and pumped me rapidly, the sensation combined with my arousal quickly bringing me closer to climax. Then she stopped.
"Fuck my hand," she whispered, her hand motionless but still gripping me tightly.
I slowly thrust my hips up to meet her hand. I repeated this several times before I reached down and held her hand in place while I fucked it.
"Oooh. Is that how you like to fuck, baby?" She moaned. "Is that how you want to fuck my pussy?"
"Jesus, Shelly," I groaned, releasing her hand while she resumed pumping me with her fist.
"Mmm, you want me to jerk you off, baby? You want me to jerk this hard cock until you cum?"
"Please." It was my turn to beg.
"Are you close?" She whispered in my ear.
"Mmm, yes. Very," I groaned back.
"Good," she said, and abruptly stopped stroking me. She held me motionless for a minute, my straining erection seeking release.
"Mmm. Can you wait until tomorrow night?" She asked, releasing me from her grip and sliding her hand up my chest after I'd finally returned from the verge of climax.
"Oh. Yeah. Of course. You don't have to keep going," I said, feeling a little confused and trying not to sound frustrated.
"Mmm. Good," she said.
But I started to worry. "Did I do something wrong?" I asked. "Did I make you feel obligated to touch me? I didn't mean to pressure you," I said apologetically.
"No, no! You were fine! You were super sweet and very generous. You did everything exactly right. Otherwise, I wouldn't ask. It's just a thing I've always wanted to do," she said, stopping to search for words. "The way you teased me made me think you might be into this. Do you know what edging is?"
"Yeah, like when you get close, but delay your orgasm?" I replied.
"Yes, exactly," she said. "What if I wanted to do that to you? Would you be okay with that?"
I couldn't help chuckling a little, then seeing the sincerity in her expression, I realized this was definitely a serious request and something she'd considered carefully. I didn't want to kink-shame her.
"You've never done this before?" I asked more seriously.
"I've wanted to do it with the right person for a long time."
"How do you want it to work?"
"I think you should come over as often as you can, and I'll tease you. But you don't get to cum until I let you."
"Jesus. How long will it last?" I asked feeling very curious about this notion, but trying to understand why it was appealing to her. Maybe it gave her a sense of control. Maybe she liked the feeling of having sexual power over me.
"It will last until I think you can't take anymore," she said before leaning in for a deep kiss.
I reluctantly broke our kiss. "Okay. But can you tell me why you want to do this?"
"Because I want to tease you and torture you until you're begging me to make you cum. I know you aren't pushy. But do you think you can do it without cheating?"
"Cheating?" I asked.
"You know, jerking off," she said bluntly.
"Oh, right," I said.
"Can you come over tomorrow night?"
"Yes."
"Mmm. Good. I promise this will be worth it. Are you sure you can handle this?" She asked with genuine concern in her voice.
"Yes," I said confidently.
"Mmm. Okay. Then go home and come back at 8:00 tomorrow night. And don't jerk off!"
"I get it," I said smiling. "I'm game."
We both fixed our clothes and exchanged a sweet parting kiss at her door. I went home pleasantly frustrated and looking forward to seeing her again.
I skipped the coffee shop the next day. I thought maybe it would be best not to see Shelly until I went back to her house. She texted me throughout the day. She started with an innocent text to say good morning, but her messages got more sexual as the day progressed. She talked about how hot it felt stroking my hard cock. She told me she couldn't wait to feel how hard I was for her again. She told me she was imagining my fingers rubbing her clit and sliding inside of her. Then she sent me a photo of her breasts she had clearly taken in the bathroom at work. I assumed all of it was to get me as worked up as possible, and her strategy was very successful. I couldn't stop thinking about her.