ep 11. Never Knock Before You Enter

Alina hates many things: dishonest people, smog, paying bills… But most of all, she hates mornings. She hates it when it’s still grey outside, when crunchy leaves clutter the pavement and move around in the wind, and her breath is visible in the air. She shuffles through empty streets and rubs her eyes, the world still blurry. She grabs a coffee from her favourite coffee shop and yawns instead of checking out this cute new barista. All she can think of is the mountain of papers on her desk. Alina sighs and once again wonders why she decided to do a PhD.

She’s a bit more awake when she gets back home. She had a few sips of coffee on her way, burning her mouth in the process. She pours the rest into her favourite mug and sits at her desk, moving the papers to one side and opening her laptop on the other… What is that sound? Is it squeaking? Alina looks around but sees nothing. Is it moaning? She tries to think of something else whilst she opens the document. She has so much writing up to do.

The sound, however, doesn’t care that she has work to do. Alina rolls her eyes, has another sip of coffee and tried to figure out where the sound is coming from. Someone is moaning in the other room and soon there is slapping as well, the distinct sound of a hand hitting human skin. They’re fucking, Alina thinks, grinning. Her flatmate Paula and that boyfriend of hers. They’re fucking.

As Paula’s moans become louder, Alina finds it impossible to concentrate. Instead of thinking of genetic algorithms and her PhD, she focuses on the tingling between her legs and the wetness of her underwear. No, she thinks, shifting in her chair. I have to finish this. Please be quiet.

They don’t stop. As Paula’s moans grow louder, Alina realises her hand is no longer on the keyboard. Instead it’s stroking her pussy, caressing thick hair and parting the lips. This feels way too good.

“You’ll never be able to satisfy me with your tiny dick”, Alina hears her flatmate’s voice. “I’ll have someone else fuck me like a real man.”

Alina smiles. Some people have interesting kinks, she decides. No way she can concentrate on anything now… She gets up, a cup of coffee in her hand, and knocks on her flatmate’s door. There is no answer for a while so she just enters. Paula lies on the bed, her face flushed and her boyfriend’s head between her legs.

“I will satisfy you better than any man”, says Alina, looking her straight into the eyes.

The boyfriend, Martin, raises his head and looks around puzzled. Fuck, Alina thinks to herself. I was supposed to tell them to shut up, not this… Why are they looking at me like that? Maybe entering someone’s room whilst they’re fucking is a big no-no?

“Alina.” Paula frowns, pushing Martin’s head back between her legs.

“Uh… I’m sorry?”

“The washing machine is broken. I got us a mechanic but somebody will have to let them in. This morning.”

Alina takes a big gulp of lukewarm coffee and puts the cup on Paula’s desk.

“How is that a problem? We’ll just have a break.”

Martin raises his head again and opens his mouth as if he wanted to say something. Paula silences him with just one look.

The rest just happens: Alina walks up to her flatmate and starts kissing her soft lips. Paula is so turned on that she immediately starts moaning, just like she was moaning when Alina tried to concentrate on her PhD. Now she also rubs herself against Alina. Her skin is so warm.

Alina starts touching her friend’s breasts, fingers circling against her erect nipples, until Paula gently takes her hand and moves it between her legs. Paula is so wet that she’s about to start dripping onto the bed. As Alina starts touching her clit, the flatmate closes her eyes and smiles. She moans again, gently stroking her friend’s breasts.

Only when warm hands stop playing with her nipples she realises that something nearby is making loud smacking sounds. It’s Martin: he got so turned on by his girlfriend being pleased that he’s now beating off, his eyes closed and his face dead serious.

“Stop that!” Paula leaps onto the other side of the bed and grabs her boyfriend’s cock so hard that the boy’s body writhes in pain. “Did anyone allow you touch yourself?”

Martin tries to explain but Paula is too busy getting a flogger from underneath the bed. She then commands the boy to lie down. The boy obeys without a word.

“Want to do the honour?” Alina is handed the flogger. Its heavy handle feels smooth to the touch.

“I’ve never…” Alina weighs the item in her hand. “He’s never done anything to me…”

“He once said your shoes are ugly.” The flatmate grins impishly. “That his grandma wears better.”

“Seriously?” Alina grips the handle with more certainty. “Did you really say that?”

As Martin’s head is buried in the pillows, he just manages to nod. That is enough for Alina.

“I’ll show you.” Paula beats the boy, creating red marks on his skin. He makes hissing sounds but doesn’t dare to utter a word anymore. Then Alina takes over the flogger, first starting out lightly so the boy doesn’t even wince, her blows getting harder and harder with time. Making him squirm sure is fun.

“Fine!” He cries out at last. “I won’t touch myself without permission. And I’ll never call Alina’s shoes ugly.”

“Good. Now kneel by the bed and apologise to our friend by going down on her.”

Alina opens her mouth in surprise but says nothing… Why not? He’s cute. And he did call her shoes ugly… He must make it up to her. She shifts closer to the edge of the bed and soon feels one person fingering her and sucking her clit whilst the other is stroking her hear and touching her breasts. She closes her eyes and relaxes, forgetting her PhD, forgetting the entire world that surrounds her. She gets so close to orgasm that any move could get her over the edge now…

And then the doorbell rings.

“Fuck.” Paula gets up immediately. “It’s the mechanic. Martin, you open the door. No, don’t put your clothes on. Just go. Go!”

The boy obeys and Paula takes his place, licking Alina’s clit with great skill. Where did she learn that? Alina is not as aroused as she was merely a minute before. There’s too much distraction.

“I’ve come to fix…” she hears a female voice. “Why are you naked?”

“I sort of did something I wasn’t allowed to do”, says Martin nonchalantly. “I am now being punished.”

Alina starts giggling but her friend’s wet tongue soon reminds her of what she should be feeling. She finally concentrates on the sensation again, closing her eyes and smiling. She finally comes, waves of pleasure radiating to her thighs and making her let out a quiet sigh. She hugs her friend, stretches and gets off the bed, peeking through the half-closed door. The mechanic is gorgeous: slim but muscular, wearing a green cap and stained overalls. There is a huge tool sticking out of her back pocket. Alina moves closer to get a closer look and her friend follows, gently stroking her back and caressing her shoulders.

“Am I interrupting something?” The mechanic blushes and tries to look at the floor. Too bad Alina notices how she keeps on glancing at three naked bodies surrounding her. “Shall I just fix the washing machine?”

“The tool.” Paula grins. “It’s huge.”

“I wouldn’t mind being fixed with that tool myself”, adds Alina.

“I have a better idea.” The mechanic takes off her cap, revealing a mane of thick, curly hair. “I’ve just bought a metal dildo. Was planning to fuck myself with it after work but…”

“Wouldn’t it feel better if someone else fucked you?” Paula places her hand on her boyfriend’s hip. “Like this boy here? I would do it myself but I’m not done with my friend. She should have walked in on us fucking earlier!”

The mechanic smiles as she admires the boy’s glistening body. His cock gets hard immediately and before the mechanic can do anything, Paula grabs it and leads Martin into the bedroom, two other women following them. It’s only a matter of seconds till they all end up on the carpet. Alina and Paula start fucking again, moaning loudly and kissing passionately, their hands exploring each other’s bodies and finding the sweet spots that give the most pleasure. The mechanic strips and throws her clothes onto the floor and now everyone can enjoy her naked body. She pulls the boy’s hair and hands him the dildo.

“You’d better make her come.” Paula says, still caressing her friend’s body.

Martin starts fucking the mechanic with the metal dildo, stroking her legs and clit with the other had. The mechanic doesn’t need as much time as Alina; she comes very soon and screams so loudly that the neighbours start banging on the walls.

“Fuck yes.” The woman smiles. “This is much more fun than fixing household appliances.”

“Are you going to fix me now?” Alina asks quietly.

“Let’s cuddle first.”

And the carpet is covered with a mass of sweaty, exhausted people, all embracing one another and all smiling.


ep 10. Whipped Cream

They come in the evening, when we’re at our busiest, with customers coming back from work and ordering coffees and slices of calorie-dense cakes. Autumn is just settling in, evenings getting longer and leaves changing their colours. The air is crisp and everyone suddenly feels the need to drink something hot.

They walk up to the counter with great confidence, their head high and long hair blowing in the draft caused by opened doors. Their eyes, surrounded by an astounding quantity of eyeshadow and glitter, look straight at me. I can’t stop staring into those eyes either. Isn’t the make-up a bit over the top? It’s not even 7pm. Perhaps they’re a performer of some sort? An actor? A magician? Perhaps they’re just going to a party?

I decide I’ve been looking into those eyes for too long and my glance slides a little lower, onto a majestic moustache. Is it even real? It’s so thick. So glossy. I wonder what it would feel like if my hand…

“Hi there, I’ll have hot chocolate, please”, they say, interrupting my thoughts. The voice is deep but still pleasant. It could well belong to either a woman or a man.

I nod, not being able to utter a word. That moustache is magnetic. I can’t stop staring at it.

Words are useless. I start scribbling on a post-it note, the way we always do.

“What are you writing there?”, they ask, raising an eyebrow. When I hear that voice again, I have to hold onto the counter.

“You know how other coffee shops always ask you for your name when you order something?”, speaking is easier than I thought. “We just describe the customer on a post-it not. Much easier to recognise them that way.”

“Cool”, they shrug, pay for the order and walk towards the window.

I take the opportunity to look at them again. Those tight jeans look great on those shapely legs. That rainbow belt looks amazing. And that butt… don’t even get me started. So dreamy.

I start making hot chocolate by there is something else on my mind. I start licking my lips.

When the chocolate is finally ready, I add whipped cream, catching myself thinking how I would like to … What the hell am I doing? This is not the sort of thing that should be going through my head when I’m at work.

After work I may do the naughtiest things I can think of but when I’m in the coffee shop, I should remain professional at all times.

It’s hard to remain professional when someone that hot is so close.

I bring the chocolate over, desperately trying not to guess what’s in their underpants. They smile politely and grab the mug with soft hands, neon pink fingernails tapping on the surface. I turn around, ready to take on more responsibilities. Anything to stop thinking about…

“Sexy human by the window”, I hear and immediately feel like running away and hiding. How could I forget? That beautiful moustache distracted me so much that I forgot to remove the stupid note. I bury my face in my hands. Idiot.

“Don’t worry”, I feel the soft hand patting me on the shoulder.

“Sorry”, I manage to say somehow, “I don’t normally do this… I mean…”

“You’re not normally attracted to your customers?”, they start slowly stroking my shoulder. Keep on doing this, please. “That’s a shame. I find coffee shop employees incredibly hot… Haven’t you noticed they usually hire only the cutest ones? Plus, they always bring you a nice drink in the morning.”

Are you actually serious, I think but I still can’t look into their eyes. They slowly touch my chin and lift my face so that my gaze meets theirs. They wink at me, very suggestively. There are traces of whipped cream on their moustache. I look around to check whether anyone has heard us but they’re all to busy.

If only I could lick that whipped cream off of that moustache…

“Listen, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I need to go to the toilet soon, though, and I think I’ll accidentally forget to lock the door. Oops. Silly me. Use this information however you wish.”

I turn around and go back to the counter. The place is getting less busy now: people are leaving and no new customers are coming in. We should be closing soon. My hands are shaking.

In the meantime, the sexy human goes to the toilet, just as they promised. They’re probably taking off their trousers right now. I’d rather not wait unit their underwear is off as well, though, I catch myself thinking. Are they wearing boxer briefs or lace panties? Whatever it is, I wouldn’t mind taking it off with my teeth.

I look around once again and realise nobody really cares about what I’m doing. Why would anyone care?

When I enter the stall, they greet me with a wicked grin, partially covered by that glorious moustache. I resist the urge to touch it. I can do that later.

“I knew you’d come” they say and the moustache immediately starts scratching my lips. I can still taste the whipped cream.

ep 9. Serendipity

If you think the Megabus is bad you should try taking the bus from Oaxaca into Chiapas, southeast Mexico. Twelve hours of trying not to vomit in the blistering oppressive heat. When the shaking and rolling finally stopped, I staggered away from the road and lay in the undergrowth for a while, enjoying the stillness. According to the map I still had to trek down into the valley where I would be met by my hosts, so I shouldered my rucksack and started off down the rocky path. The landscape was incredible, tropical forest covering the hills like green clouds. I hadn’t gone too far when I came across a wooden sign nailed to a tree, with the word ‘Xtilala’ daubed in black paint, and an arrow pointing down the hill. I followed the path and soon found myself approaching a wooden shack, with a group of people milling around outside, laughing and smoking. They all looked about my age, and all wore cut offs and loose shirts, some with wide brimmed hats to help fend off the uncompromising Mexican sun. There were some white guys with dreads, a chicana with cornrows, a few people who looked like they were probably of Scandinavian origin, and some American girls. The loudest of them all was a stocky guy with a baseball cap and skin the colour of roasted coffee beans.

‘Ay, chica’, he called out ‘You starting today, no?’ I nodded, and unshouldered my pack. ‘You should go see Maruja, she show you where you can dump your gear’. ‘Gracias’ I replied, smiling gratefully. ‘Where can I find her?’ He inclined his head to indicate the direction I should head in, and I picked up my pack again, suddenly feeling full of beans and much recovered from my hellish journey. I started out through the trees and he called after me ‘And after that come and see me, no?’, resulting in a burst of laughter from the guys and snorts of derision from the women present. I looked over my shoulder to see the chicana give him a shove. ‘Ay, Pepe,’ she chided him, ‘you need to show some respect’. The banter of the group faded away as I approached the hut he had pointed out. I pushed open the door, to find nothing inside save for a few open sacks of raw coffee beans stacked underneath a wooden worksurface. I turned around and went to go look around the coffee fields, to see if I might find this Maruja lady there. They stretched out for acres and acres, coffee plants as far as the horizon, but no sign of life. It was approaching the hottest part of the day, so I wasn’t too surprised. I started thinking maybe a siesta wouldn’t be a bad idea, and headed towards a shady looking grove to lie down for a bit. As soon as I entered the shade, I noticed that there was someone there, squatting behind a tree. She had darker skin than the others I had met, and long braids tied back. An indigena, probably of Mayan descent. ‘Oh, I’m sorry’, I exclaimed, embarrassed. She didn’t move a muscle, she just fixed her gaze on me, smiling slightly, and continued emptying her bladder. ‘You must be the new WWOOFer’ she said. ‘Uh, yeah’, I stammered, not knowing where to look. She stood up, buttoning her shorts. ‘It’s good to give a gift of your water to the trees. I’m Maruja’. She cast her eyes up and down my body, appraising me. ‘Hmmm’ she murmured, gripping my upper arm. ‘Fuerte, no?’
‘Si’, I managed to say. She laughed at my discomfort, ‘You are not one for words, eh chica? No te preocupes, there’s plenty needs done here, and we have more need of strong fingers than a quick tongue’. She said this with a grin, and I couldn’t keep from blushing. I knew then that I’d given her all the info she needed. She walked off in the direction of the fields, indicating for me to follow. ‘Venga, I’ll show you where you can dump your pack and after siesta we can get you started in the fields’.

We worked long into the evening harvesting the ‘cherries’ from the coffee plants, a job still, in this mechanised age, I was told, best done by hand. I had imagined coffee plants to look like bush beans, but they were like little trees with bright red berries. Once the pulp is removed, one of the American girls explained to me, you are left with the raw beans. The depulping is typically done on the farm, but as Xtilala is part of a cooperativa, they take it to the local mill where there is more efficient machinery. I made friends with the other WWOOFers, and even Pepe turned out to be an okay guy, once I’d told him I wasn’t into dudes. We talked about our travels as we worked, sharing stories and telling jokes. The work was hard and the sun was hot, so by the time they called us in for dinner we were starved. It wasn’t like some of the WWOOFing I had done in Europe, working in polytunnels where you could eat the strawberries as you went along. Coffee cherries didn’t taste too good – I had a nibble just to see. Dinner was tamales, washed down with some of the local honey beer which they called balché. After while I felt like going out for a stroll so I got up and wandered out into the Chiapas night. Maruja was leaning against the wall, smoking something that smelled herbal and pungent. ‘Ay, chica, you worked hard today, you want some of this?’ She handed it to me and I took a toke. It tasted of strange Mexican herbs, but there was also definitely some strong weed in there. She watched me as I exhaled, but I had been out in the fields all day proving my worth, and felt less self conscious than before.

‘¿Tu es una mujer que gustan les mujeres, no?, she asked, bluntly. I didn’t say anything as I was having a headrush from the weed, but the lazy grin plastered across my face must have told her all she needed to know, because next thing I knew she had taken hold of my hand and was leading me through the trees, to the hut where I had looked for her earlier in the day. I let myself be led, still grinning uncontrollably, and she pulled me inside and closed the door. She picked me up and put me down on the workbench above the sacks of raw beans, then removed her hair band and shook her long braids free. They cascaded over her brown shoulders, and all I could do was sit, transfixed. She took another hit of the joint before stubbing it out and, wrapping her muscular arms around me, kissed me full on the lips. When her tongue touched mine it felt like an electric shock and I was so high from the weed I felt as if I had floated off to a higher plane, and was watching from above while my brain switched to biosurvival mode and took control of my body. We tore off each others clothes, and I only had seconds to admire her stunning breasts before she had my shorts half off and her lips on my belly. I could only yelp with intense anticipation as she began stroking my thighs..

Viktor looked mournfully at the lorry load of sacks he had to unload. He was hungover and could do with a spliff to take the edge off. There was nothing to be done about that though, the sooner he got started the sooner he’d be finished. His colleague Dieter had all ready climbed into the lorry, and was starting to haul the sacks onto pallets, which they could then forklift into the processing plant. He sighed and followed suit, cursing that last beer. Hey Viktor!’ shouted his workmate. ‘Come and look at this!’ He ambled over, expecting another dead mouse one of the sacks. ‘I told you, it adds to the flavour’. But there was no mouse in the sack Dieter was holding, just a lot of raw coffee beans spilling on the floor of the lorry. In his other hand, however, was a half smoked, but very fat spliff. ‘You know this shipment came from Mexico, right? This’ll be some crazy loco weed’. Viktor’s eyes lit up. ‘Those Mexican dudes must have been having a sneaky spliff on their coffee break’, he replied. ‘Nein’, said Dieter, patting his pockets for a lighter, ‘you wouldn’t be having coffee breaks if you spent all day harvesting the stuff, I reckon their boss lets them have spliff breaks’. Viktor found a lighter first and lit the joint for his friend, who took a huge lungful and immediately doubled over, coughig his guts up. ‘Shizen’, he exclaimed when he could speak again. ‘That’s some wild stuff’. Viktor took a hit and nodded in agreement, exhaling a cloud of smoke. ‘It’s given me a boner’, he giggled. ‘Ja, so I see’, Dieter replied. ‘Let me take care of that for you’.

This story was written while drinking Durito coffee from the Cafe Libertad Kollektiv, part of the distribution network for Zapatista coffee from autonomous uprising communities in Chiapas, Mexico. This coffee’s production and distribution is securing indigenous people’s livelihoods, and reinforcing the autonomous movement against the government, land owner and military powers which oppress the native people in Chiapas.

ep 8. Not A Single Cloud – Part 2

Pete lounged in the water tub, letting his body float lazily in the late afternoon sun. The orange evening heat slowly warmed up the water. He enjoyed the subtle lazy happiness, emptiness of mind, that always took over his mind after he had sex. And he just had lots of really nice relaxing sex. His body found a weightless spot just under the water’s surface and soaked in conflicting signals from the outside world. While the water was becoming warm, the wind seemed to pick up a little, with a chilling breeze teasing the parts of him that emerged over the surface. He loved floating on the edge of all the conflicting sensations: of moisture and dryness, warmth and cold, wind and a subtle tickling of water, muffled humming silence and nearby sloshing noises.

His body was stimulated in so many ways at once, that it mesmerised him. Even though he just came a few times, his breathing became shallow, he moaned quietly and to his surprise he got another erection – without much thought he started touching himself. First gently, then in more determined and decisive strokes. He closed his eyes and let himself sink a little deeper, until the only sensation from the outside world was the orange warmth of sunshine behind his eyelids – no sounds reached his submerged ears, all he could hear were muffled sounds of sloshing water. It felt like a state right before waking up – Pete was feeling more and more detached from reality.


At the same time, just around the corner, Yann and Viki kissed naked against a sandstone wall. She trapped him with her arms, her palms touching a sun-warmed rough surface of brick on either side of him. She was in charge and she took him slowly, paced her kisses, played with him, brushed her body against his. Without her glasses she could hardly see anything, and so she felt her way around his hair and arms, taking in his body and the surrounding environment. She communicated that she couldn’t see well excessively on purpose, so that Yann knew that she couldn’t see him well.
Viki savoured the effect of her mean joke: just a minute earlier she made Yann believe that she thought that he was Pete. She made him believe that the reason they are kissing naked on the roof is that she took him for someone else, an easy mistake to make when your eyesight is so poor. It was obviously just an act. She simply did it to provoke him, to read his thoughts and reactions. Yann did not know what to do, he liked her, but in the same time helt dishonest, violating her trust and consent. Viki at the same time really enjoyed poking his insecurity, hoping that his facade of or restrain and indecisiveness would break and crumble.
If you were standing there, or seeing them from a neighbouring window, you’d notice something peculiar. Throughout the experience the boy was not really into it, couldn’t relax and his movements were rather jerky and uncoordinated. He looked as if he was about to run away any minute. The way he hesitantly returned her kisses, didn’t touch her hips even thought they were rubbing against his, begging for it. It wasn’t that he didn’t fancy her, from your safe observer’s position you’d be able to see how the proof of it rubbed against her thigh.
But if you were seeing all this and could know what was going on in their heads, you’d know that the reason for his hesitation was much more obvious. Yann felt that he’s taking advantage of her, but enjoys it too much to stop. He felt like the worst perv in history. Poor sensitive boy, just because she called him with his friend’s name; he thought that Viki mistook him for another of her employees, one that she fancied; he thought that she was making out with him under a false assumption that he was Pete, her eyesight being so bad that she could easily make such mistake. He felt terrible, dishonest, angry with himself, remorseful and above everything else… turned on.
He wanted to fuck her so much, but he also felt that it’s wrong and tried to stop himself. The struggle was intense and violent. As if he internalised power-play, teasing and a range of kinky games and played them with himself. She was not helping either, with every kiss, with every touch and brush of her nipples against him, she scraped off his self-constrain, made him betray his decency. Not that his body had any – his body betrayed him at the very beginning, quite openly expressing his desires towards her, in the ways that she seemed to thoroughly enjoy.
Finally, if you were watching this knowing what happened earlier on, you would notice she enjoyed making fool of him. A lot. Her eyesight was actually great, the thick hipster glasses being just for show and to add her authority. In everyday life she needed all the authority she could muster to conquer her natural shyness and counterbalance her small figure. Especially that it was difficult to run a team of employees that were so sexy and kinky that she wanted to jump them every time she walked into the cafe. Even more so, since she knew that they all sleep with each other occasionally. She especially fancied these two boys that were on a shift today and she kept promising herself for quite a while that one day she’ll fuck them, fuck them both and fuck them hard.
That’s why earlier on that week she arranged for Yann and Pete to be on the closing shift that night. When the closing time came, she drank triple whisky and made her way to the cafe. The decision seemed to be more and more made in her head as the cafe was drawing nearer and the alcohol flooded her consciousness.
When she made it to the cafe that evening, she was late. It looked already closed, floors swooped, lights switched off, coffee machines cooling with occasional quiet crackling sounds of contracting metal. She took out her private key and started opening the doors, but she dropped it, slowly realising that she is actually quite drunk, and being blissfully happy about it. Sure, the boys weren’t there, but she was never the one to change her mind. She shouldered the glass door and stumbled over to a leather sofa, which was always her favourite seat, whenever she was drinking her lunch break coffee. In fact she once slept with a spanish girl, just because that girl sat on her favourite spot. But that is a completely different story for another time. Right there and then she was tipsy, horny and getting more and more frustrated.
She unzipped her jeans and slid her left hand down her pants. Damn, she wanted it so hard and her body was ready. She looked at occasional pedestrians and smiled to them. Because of other furniture, they couldn’t see the reason for her happy expression, but they often smiled back. One even waved at her and she waved back with her free hand, a hand that went back to stroking her hair and breasts right after that. She really liked it, cuddling with herself, slowly approaching a blissful orgasm, feeling great in her favourite sofa in her favourite place. Waves of heat and weightlessness, as she stroked and teased her clit, drunk carelessness and sweet abandonment, all started in her head and meandered to in-between her hips.
As she was about to come, her ears ringing and sight blurry, she noticed two backpacks leaning against the cafe’s counter – two backpacks she knew belonged to Pete and Yann. Boys were inside, they were somewhere in the cafe, maybe still at the back maybe somewhere else and they might come in any moment. In normal circumstance that would be quite a revelation, but these were not normal circumstances. She didn’t even think of stopping, being on the edge of orgasm already, in fact she completely let go, releasing herself into spasms and shivers of violently unstoppable final pleasure.
Viki realised she must have screamed, and while she didn’t plan for it, it felt great to let go so completely. A random pedestrian rushed away behind the window, scared by the sounds she made. She smiled to herself, laughing, giving herself a little aftercare, and falling into a sweet nap, thinking about the backpacks and what their presence might mean.
After an uncertain amount of time she woke up and looked around. It was still day time, but the sun was much lower, the backpacks of Yann and Pete were still there, but she was alone. She fell asleep with her hand in her jeans and as she pulled it out it was still sticky, actually everything around her was a bit sticky. She was an occasional squirmer, but very rarely just from touching herself – usually there had to be a toy or a cock involved – however she felt sticky nevertheless. Not that it was a problem.
One of the reasons why she initially rented and then bought this cafe was the fact that it had access to the roof and that on the roof there was a large water container bathtub thing. When she first explored a small area of the roof that the cafe had an access to, the water tub was a mess, a bit like a forgotten swimming pool or a fish tank of a careless teenager. She spent a month’s worth of evenings to clean it up, seal and paint it afresh. She changed the water there monthly and kept it covered up for the most of the year. She even helped to kickstart a small company promising to develop a solar powered pool heating system.
Right at that moment, being freshly energised after an orgasm and her power-nap, the perspective of taking a bath sounded heavenly. Before she headed to the roof, she made herself a coffee in a still warm coffee machine and left it a mess. She figured she’ll accuse boys tomorrow of not cleaning it properly as a revenge for not being here to do her. She took her keys and headed for a stationary cupboard which lead to an old fire escape staircase, which lead to a hatch on the roof. And once she made it there, she smiled wide at her luck and her arousal came back even stronger than before – she heard moans and splashing of water. She found them, the boys were in her bathtub.
She undressed and sipped her coffee listening to their lovemaking. Listening to someone’s expressive noises was always her favourite part of sex. Whenever she fancied someone she instantly wondered how would they sound during fucking. But sitting on that roof on a pile of her clothes, she touched herself delicately. While she sipped her almost cold by now coffee and listened, she came up with a fantastic idea to spice up the sexual encounter that was inevitably to happen – she will pretend that she cannot tell which boy is which – after all, no-one knew how bad her eyesight really was. That should make it fun, and with a bit of luck, she’ll get to do what she loved most: make people uncomfortable.
That was her little secret, her special kink. She would usually choose a lover at a party depending on how fascinated or turned on by their uncomfortableness she were. In her experience people with slight insecurities were much better and more interesting lovers.
At some point she heard one of the boys emerge out of the water tub, sounds of splashing and dripping water reflecting on the flat surfaces of chimney clusters. She put down her empty cup, stood up, unbunched her dreads and walked towards the source of the sounds. With a grin, she wondered which one of them she’ll get to fuck first.

ep 7. Soya Flat White

“Are you fucking serious?”, Alex kept on staring at a massive PC tower located underneath one of the tables in the coffee shop she worked in. The machine had blinking blue lights and an enormous monitor which her friend Zoe was now plugging in, her shapely arse sticking out from underneath the table.
“I am fucking serious” Zoe said without a hint of sarcasm in her voice, still fumbling with cables. “I tried writing at home but I just… I just can’t concentrate.”
Zoe and her writing, Alex smiled to herself. That girl would always go to poetry readings and talk about books for hours but was too shy to discuss her own work with anyone.
“It’s hard to concentrate when you know you can just take off your trousers without any repercussion and… Alex, could you make me a soya flat white please? Or some other kind of flat white, as long as it’s vegan.”
“I’m not saying writing in a coffee shop is wrong.” Alex pretended not to hear the last sentence and kept on standing there and looking at Zoe who now got up and wiped the sweat off of her forehead. “But writing on this monster?”
“I don’t have a laptop and can’t afford one at the moment”, Zoe sat in her chair and adjusted the keyboard. Stray crumbs and hairs were clearly visible in bright autumn sun.
Alex scratched her head. It’s not like she’s never experienced anything unusual to happen at her workplace. Some people recently had group sex in the water reservoir on the roof. Not longer than a week ago this annoying barista was found tied up on the floor, claiming he had done it to himself.
Even weird sex, however, could be explained as a basic human need. But this?
“Zoe”, Alex gingerly brushed her hand against the girl’s shoulder. “You do realise you could just use pen and paper, right?”
“Pen and paper? It’s the twenty-first century, dammit!”
“Umm… right. I’ll go make your coffee.”
Alex knew she made amazing coffee and produced even better coffee art. When the flat white was ready in the finest cup she could find, Alex started drawing cats and flower motifs. Even Leonardo da Vinci would be jealous, she thought with a satisfied smile. Hopefully Zoe will be so enamoured with the drawings she won’t even have the heart to drink the coffee.
Zoe… How long have they known each other? That would be at least four years, maybe five. So many good memories, so many good conversations about everything. Almost everything, Alex corrected herself immediately. There was one thing they never discussed. Sex. Zoe never said anything and Alex never asked. How come the barista could talk about her ex-girlfriends and mind-blowing sexual experience with complete strangers but had no courage to mention anything to her best friend?
The art was finished but Alex’s mind was taken over by completely different imagery. What does Zoe like? Boys? Girls? Both? Or maybe neither? Maybe that’s why she never mentioned anything about her sex life? Surely someone as gorgeous as Zoe would get laid a billion times if she just wanted to?
There is only one way to find out, thought Alex as she picked up the cup and started walking towards her friend. And she was definitely not going down that route. How could she just ask what her friend was into? That’s just fucking awkward! There’s no way she’s going to risk their friendship. What if Zoe thinks Alex is hitting on her? Does Alex want to hit on her?
“Here’s your co…”, the barista put the cup not he table and glanced at the screen. Not that she meant to be nosy. The screen was just so large it couldn’t be missed. She just had to take a look.
Before Zoe managed to minimise the window, one particular sentence imprinted itself in Alex’s mind.
“Tending to your lady garden will be an absolute pleasure”, said the lady with a mischievous grin on her face.
Alex could feel her hands tremble. Fuck, she though. It’s some sort of Victorian lesbian porn.
And why would she write lesbian porn if she wasn’t into women? She wouldn’t, right?
Looks like the question Alex was so afraid to ask has finally been answered.
“Oh, hi there”, Zoe desperately tried to remain calm but her voice was shaking.
“Hello, Zoe.”
“You… you didn’t see anything, did you?” Her face was getting redder and redder. So fucking adorable.
“Nothing at all” Alex tried not to grin. She was a bad liar.
“Well… yeah… So I’ve been writing erotica lately and…”
“What kind of erotica?”
The question was followed by a long pause. Was it just Alex or did other people in the room stop talking?
“You see…”, Zoe took a deep breath. “ I’ve been sort of thinking about my sexuality recently. Because I wasn’t sure and… well, I’m still not sure but I guess I realised I’m into women? But it’s not like I’ve ever done it with a woman… I’ve never done it with anyone.”
Alex desperately tried to find something to say but her brain just refused to work. Zoe must think I’m an idiot, she thought.
“There is… umm…” said Zoe finally, still red on her face. Or maybe it was the heat generated by that massive PC? Alex felt very hot herself. “There is someone I really like and I’ve always wanted to be with her but… well, I don’t even know if…”
“You don’t know if she’s gay” Alex finished quickly.
Zoe just nodded, unable to look her friend into the eye.
“Who is it, Zoe?”
Alex didn’t need to ask that. She already knew; it had just occurred to her. Why was she so oblivious? All those longing glances, those late night conversations about the most intimate subjects, Zoe’s body always trying to find an excuse to touch hers… Why was she so blind all that time?
When she finally realised what was going on around her, she saw Zoe’s face getting closer to hers. Their lips joined in a long, passionate kiss. Zoe’s lipstick tasted like bubble gum.
“I think that person feels the same”, Alex whispered into her ear when it was over.  “And she’s most definitely gay. She would also be happy to… how did you put it? Tend to your lady garden?”
Zoe blushed again. Why does she have to be so fucking cute all the time?
“Yes, I would really like that.”
Without saying anything else, Alex held down her ironic fedora and dived underneath the table. Not wanting to waste any more time, she opened the folds of Zoe’s dress. The smell of female arousal mixed with the faint aroma of sweat was overpowering. Alex inhaled the wonderful scent as if she was smelling a beautiful flower.
Fuck, she thought as she moved her hand between Zoe’s legs. She’s not wearing underwear! She had it all planned, the cunning little…
Not that Alex minded. Moving the cables to have more room, she got closer to her friend’s legs. As soon as her tongue touched Zoe’s clitoris, the keyboard started clicking away, as if cunnilingus was the greatest source of inspiration.
“You know”, said Zoe, typing furiously. “I always go commando when I’m writing. The sensation of fabric on my ass is just so distracting! Also, it’s nice to write filthy stuff when you’re feeling sexually liberated.”
Whatever, though Alex, stroking Zoe’s short pussy hair and those soft, smooth thighs. Giving her labia a few playful bites, she went on to licking the girl’s clitoris. Zoe tasted divine. Don’t they say that vegans taste better?
Finally, Zoe got so aroused she couldn’t type anymore. She started moaning quietly as if she forgot she was in a coffee shop. Either that or she just didn’t care. After all, other ladies always praised Alex’s cunnilingus skills.
She stopped licking just for a second, to take a deep breath, holding her hat so that the fan didn’t blow it off. Why did the fan start whirring so loudly now that Zoe was so close to orgasm?
Alex started licking again, rhythmically, sliding her finger into her friend’s vagina and stroking the labia with her thumb. Zoe was so wonderfully wet.
When she finally came, she let out a loud sigh, immediately pushing Alex’s head away. Alex emerged from underneath the table, still stupidly holding onto her hat.
“Alex”, said Zoe, her eyes half-closed and a blissful expression on her face. “Want to come over to mine tonight? We’ll have coffee. Actually, scratch that, we’ll have lots and lots of wine.”
“I’ll drop by as soon as I’m finished with work.”, Alex gave her a kiss on the cheek. After that, she heard a long round of applause from the kitchen.

ep 6. Not A Single Cloud – Part 1

“What’s the worst that can happen?” – asked Pete, poking his head trough the hatch leading onto the roof.

It was a wonderful sunny day, not a single cloud in sight, probably one of very few days like that left this year. Pete hoisted himself up onto the roof with no effort whatsoever. His big arms, by now glistering with summer sweat, flexed and reached into the hatch to pull up another boy onto the roof. Fair to say that the other boy , called Yann, was nowhere as well built as Pete and really needed a hand with getting up onto the black warm surface of the roof. Once on his feet, Yann straightened up and shook his blond nordic hair. His silhouette became another impressively tall object in the skyline of the city among towers and roofs.

They closed the hatch and stood there for a minute, catching breath and admiring the unusual perspective of the city that you get from the roof level – all the chimneys, disused aerials and seagulls. The view was stunning and they took their time to admire it.

“It must be somewhere around here. I’m really curious how it looks like” – said Pete.

This crazy roof climbing expedition was his idea and now he was looking around for the goal of their trip. Just as they expected, around a cluster of chimneys and rusty satellite dishes there was a water container. Something taken right from a western movie. It resembled something between a bathtub and a large open whisky barrel, just big enough to lay down in it. They guessed it used to be some sort of fire safety measure, but instead of being dirty and full of algae it was white, clean and the water inside seemed fresh. Pete briefly contemplated why and who takes care of the basin, but decided to just be grateful for the way it was and accept it as a gift from heavens.
The whole story started a few months back, when Pete heard from another member of cafe’s staff, that the main door key also opened the door onto the roof of the cafe. As far as Pete knew, no members of staff ever came here and he was very curious of whether the other part of the gossip was also true: the same person told hime about a swimming pool on the roof. While it was quite unlikely, he really wanted to check it out. And while this bathtub was not quite a swimming pool – it was more than he expected.
Now that they got here and the basin turned out to be real, Pete and Yann exchanged glances and smiled. It was only an hour earlier, after a short conversation during closing up, that they decided it was a perfect day for a roof expedition and that a gossip about a swimming pool deserves to be validated.

“I wouldn’t call it a swimming pool” – said Yann, going ahead and submerging his skinny, pale and buck naked body in to the cold water – “but it sure is amazing.”

Pete was positively surprised by the complete lack of restrain of his scandinavian colleague. As soon as Yann had spotted a tub full of water, he instantly undressed and jumped in – it looked like some instinctive reaction or a childhood habit.

“It is wonderful” – Yann recommended again – “Cold, in a refreshing sort of way, and surprisingly clean.”

Pete finished fighting with his jeans, took off his underwear and submerged as well. He hissed and shivered, as goosebumps took over his sun-tanned body. The water felt freezing and it would take such a bloody viking as Yann to call it refreshing.
They both sat at the bottom of the shallow water container and stretched their legs. The basin was too small, so they sat opposite each other, their legs touching. Even thou they tried wiggling and changing positions, to not be in contact, each time they slipped back into the position they started in. At the end, the slippery surface of the basin made it pretty much impossible to settle in any other position than having their legs interwoven, leaning against each other’s knees slightly.
They both just leaned back and relaxed.
“I’m happy you suggested to climb up here” – said Yann after a few long minutes of silence.

With his eyes closed and arms thrown around the edges of the tub he basked in the sun. His incredibly pale skin was slowly gaining dangerously lobster-like colours of sunburn. Pete did not answer – he was busy looking at his colleague in a whole new light, noticing little details that he never paid attention to. Accident scars along his shoulders, subtle muscles of his lean torso, the pale colour of his pubic hair, starting around Yann’s belly button and vanishing out of view into the semitransparent ripples of water.

“You know” – continued the blonde viking – “I’ve wanted to hangout with you for a while. You seem fun.”

Pete mumbled some inarticulate answer. All he could think of was his growing erection. While the initial temperature shock of cold water shrunk his cock almost to a size of a dried date, now in the closeness of another pretty body next to him, it just kept growing. Pete felt that any minute now his pleasantly warm, pulsating erection will touch the knee of his friend and honestly he was not sure how Yann would react. He was almost ready to get out of there, but he realised it was not going to happen because of two reasons. For one, he was paralysed by the pleasant feeling of arousal and felt like melting into the basin and into the pretty body next to his own. The second reason, that slowly drifted into his attention – even trough the sun’s reflection on the rippling water – was that he was not alone in his state of arousal. Indeed at the end of thin blond trail of Yann’s pubic hair there appeared to be something beautiful, growing and making its way towards the water’s surface.
At that point the blonde opened his eyes and looked into Pete’s eyes. They smiled and slowly shifted towards each other, allowing their legs to intertwine more and slide, their arms finding support onto other one’s thighs and backs. They leaned against each other and giggled. The simple beauty of that moment made them chuckle in happiness, embarrassment and amazement. Pete kissed first.
Slowly their hands found each other’s cocks, as their lips started wondering around collarbones, necks and lips. At that moment there was nothing that mattered around them, only the blue sky burning with the merciless sun rays and the shocking contrast between cold water and their burning hot skin. Soon, their laughter changed into gasping for air, then into moaning, and finally into muffled screams. Approaching orgasm, they both closed their eyes,blinded by the sun, allowing themselves to relax and release tension so completely. They half floated, which almost felt like being weightless in zero gravity, making each thrust slower, but also more fluid. They both came hard and loud, one after another opening up to the experience of coming like never before.
Breathing hard, with their hands thrown over the edge of the basin behind them, they stared at something extraordinary. In the water’s surface they could see the reflection of a blue sky, but right underneath the surface, two subtle, almost-transparent clouds of sperm made their way trough the clean water. They giggled staring at their cum in amazement, as strong summer sun rays made it look almost alive.

Yann woke up first and went to fetch his jeans. He noticed that the hatch onto the roof was opened. Just next to it, a naked blond woman stood by a pile of his and her own clothes. Yann stared, but against the afternoon sun he couldn’t recognise her at first. She was unwrapping a long patterned scarf from her bunched up dreadlocks, letting them fall onto her naked arms, glowing orange in the sun. He half-covered is eyes to see better and recognised her – it was Viki, the owner of the cafe downstairs, their boss. In the golden evening sun right behind her, Viki’s ginger dreadlocks glowed in all the shades of brass and fire, her silhouette surrounded by thin frame of a halo. She looked spectacular and Yann absorbed every detail, completely mesmerised and speachless.

Yann didn’t look particularly intelligent, staring with his mount open, but still she did not seem to notice him. In fact, they looked straight at each other, but she didn’t seem to see Yann at all.

“Viki isn’t wearing her glasses. Is her eyesight so bad without them that she can’t see me eve at such a short distance?” – he thought and looked at her naked body, taking in the shape of her curves and golden hair, this time without hesitation – “This is weird.”

As Viki approached, she extended her arm towards Yann, which meant she did see him after all. As she touched his chest, her eyes opened wider, she gasped and she paused momentarily. Yann was confused, he suddenly felt uncovered, ashamed of his nakedness and his shameless staring at her sunlit body. A sudden blush that appeared on his face was hardly visible under the evening’s sunburn. He wanted to move away, but she pushed him gently towards a brick wall separating them from the water basin. As he touched the sun-warmed, rough surface of the bricks, it was his turn to release a moan. Her hand travelled down from his chest and he felt himself harden again. With an almost shy smile she dropped her towel and kneeled on it, touching his torso and kissing his belly.

“I was hoping, I’d meet you here, Pete” – she said, her kisses wandering down his hip bones, thighs towards his sex.

“Wait what?” – thought Yann – “She thinks I’m pete?” – but the warmth of her mouth on him and the softness of her breasts leaning against his leg took away his ability to talk. He decided to play along and see what happens.

[to be continued…]

ep 5. Crema

“This is it,” Ray thought, admiring rich brown coffee dripping majestically into the pot. The coffee was beautiful, single origin of course, and smelt almost floral and fruity. Just perfect. Ray smiled and twirled his ironic moustache which according to his friends from Warsaw made him look like Polish nobility.

Today was indeed the day. Alex, the only other person who was supposed to be at work in the morning, had just called in sick. Ray had the entire place to himself. He slowly began to unzip his trousers and took one last look at his Super Mario boxers. This was his only chance.

“Fuck, do I really want to do this?” he muttered to himself but the answer was obvious. Of course he did. Hasn’t he been waiting for this opportunity for years? Didn’t he go to a barista school to fulfil this little fantasy? Didn’t he spend countless nights with his cock in his hand and this exact scenario in his head?

Yes. Yes, he did.

Ray slid his boxers off and grabbed the coffee pot. It was full of heavenly liquid, smelling so sweet and forming beautiful, candy floss-like steam. Ray fought an urge to pinch himself. Is he dreaming or is this really happening?

He held his hardening cock and dipped in in the coffee pot, moaning quietly. After a second of euphoria, pain reached him with the strength of a million exploding suns. Sweet, sweet pain elevated his cock and made him come almost instantly. Pulling his cock away from the coffee, he managed to spill most of his cum onto the floor, only a few drops ending up in coffee.

“Gods, this is beautiful,” he thought, wiping his penis with a napkin and hissing quietly with pain.

He then proceeded to bring the coffee to a lady sitting in the corner, as if nothing had happened. She was perfect, just like the coffee he brought to her: small, dark and smelled wonderful. He inhaled the scent of her perfume and put the pot on her table.

“A cookie for you,” Ray winked at her as she gave him a puzzled look. “On the house.”

Of course he didn’t feel guilty. He just wanted to do something nice for the lady, for all the nice experience he had with her coffee.

The customer bit into her cookie and Ray went back into the kitchen, grinning like a maniac.


The day went by quickly. Ray did his chores automatically, fantasising about the hot coffee on his cock and the lady who later drank that coffee. Before he knew it, the day had come to an end and it was closing time. The last customer had just left and Ray was alone with all the machinery, cleaning sponges and detergent. He sniffed his thrifted cat hoodie; it smelled like coffee. When he goes back home, he will be able to breathe in this marvellous scent and immediately think of what happened earlier… Ray immediately felt his cock harden at the mere thought. He will have some more fun with it later tonight, no doubt about that.

His fantasies were interrupted by an unknown force twisting his arms behind his back. Before he realised what was going on, he was belly-down on the dusty floor, his black, thick-rimmed glasses lying down in a coffee puddle that he had been intending to wipe off all day.

Well, so much for cleaning.

“What the fuck?” he muttered, instinctively wondering what to do. Should he scream for help? Or is it better to keep quiet and do what he’s told? Maybe they have a gun?

“You stuck your cock in my coffee, you fucking asshole.” Of course, it was her. Relief washed over him. She’s not going to kill him, nice ladies like her don’t kill…

Before he finished the thought, he felt her cold fingers tying rope around his hands and later his feet. Ray screamed, to which the lady replied by spanking him on the arse.

“Now, now,” she said slowly and softly, as if she was speaking to a dimwitted child. “If you’re a good boy and don’t scream, I won’t gag you. Will you be a good boy and shut up?”

“Yes,” Ray nodded, feeling sweat trickling down his face. The girl blindfolded him and rolled him over so that he lay on his back, cake crumbs from the floor digging into his shoulder blades. He obeyed her and kept silent.

“Good boy,” she slapped him on the face. His skin throbbed with pain but his cock started throbbing with desire. The lady noticed it immediately. Cursed skinny jeans.

“Aren’t we a little masochistic fucker?” she asked, slapping him much harder. This is going to leave a mark, he thought. A beautiful red mark.

In the meantime, she lost interest in his face and began to take off his trousers. It took a lot of work and not only because they were so tight. Ray decided to play hard to get and was wiggling wildly.

“Stop. Moving. You. Dick.” ordered the lady in a calm, collected voice. To make sure he would listen, she dug her long fingernails into his flesh and scratched him from hips to knees. His skin burned and Ray obediently stopped moving. The trousers were soon at his tied up ankles, his cock exposed to cold evening air. It didn’t matter though as nothing could stop his rock-hard erection.

“Stop grinning, fuckwit. Or I’ll believe you’re enjoying this.”

She rolled him over again and then Ray felt her finger pressing around his hole. Fuck, he thought. He wanted her inside him as badly as he needed his coffee every morning.

Finally, the finger went in, pushing further and further. Beautiful, beautiful pain was al Ray could feel at that moment. He couldn’t take it any longer.

“Fuck me,” he begged. “Fuck me.”

The lady withdrew her finger and snorted.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please” tears started rolling down his face, onto the floor. He has never wanted to be fucked so badly. His cock ached with desire.

“Well, fuck you.” Ray heard the noise of a slamming door and muffled footsteps as the lady was leaving. Soon he was all alone.

They would find him in the morning, all tied up, with his trousers down and bruises on his body. He would be shamed and humiliated. But Ray didn’t give a single fuck about the humiliation. All he cared for was to meet the lady again.