Barista:  You’ve been here all evening.  What’s your problem?

Ken:  (glum sigh) You mean beside the fact that I have no penis?  Or that that bitch Barbie gets all the pretty clothes?

Barista:   Why don’t you just leave her?  I mean, she has everything already.  What does she need with a guy?  She’s just using you as her toy!

Ken:  Are you saying I’m more than just a toy?

Barista:  Jesus, buck up and get some balls, will ya!  Be a man!  Leave her!  Take control of your own destiny, Ken!

Ken:  No one has ever been so firm with me…I kind of like it.  Are you single?

Barista:  Hmmm, not since G.I Joe rolled into town…but I could fix you up with a Brat!

As I work, sometimes dirty thoughts keep my job from being monotonous.  Now I get to share them here on the blog!!  I come in contact with probaby thousands of people a week and I like making up stories about them in my head.  Lately I’ve been trying to figure out who’s a MILF.  There are just some women who come in looking like they haven’t gotten laid in years.  Then there are others I can tell by the way they move that they love to get crazy in the bedroom.

I have this sick desire to “corrupt” some people.  Especially the fundamentalist evangelical Christians who leave flyers in our bathrooms.  There are these young women who are just smokin’ hot hanging out with this crowd.  I wanna get a hold of them and make them do things they never imagined.  Then there are the hoity-toity debutantes.  I love to imagine making them wet in spite of themselves.  I believe there will be a series of stories coming shortly about that.

Shhhhh…don’t tell Silver, everyone, but this hot barista showed up on my doorstep at 11 P.M. the other night wanting to fuck!  She claimed to have served me coffee before, and had scored my address from the other barista who normally froths my drinks.  I was doing yoga on a floor mat, when I heard the soft rapping at my front door.  I wasn’t expecting anyone, you see, so I didn’t answer right away.  Her persistence and my curiousity finally lured me out of lotus pose.

She was standing in my doorway with her uniform open, exposing a black camisol.  I could tell from the lust in her eyes what her intentions were, so I asked her to come into the house.  “Do I know you?”  I asked.

“Only in passing, ” she replied casually.  “I got your address from a friend…and I just happened to be in the neighborhood so I thought I’d swing by and introduce myself.”

“At 11 P.M.?  That’s hardly a normal social call.  You must have an ulterior motive.”

“Well actually I do.  Rumor has it you’re an excellent fister, and I’m feeling like unwinding after a hard day of making espresso.  Care to fuck me?”

Normally I wouldn’t have fucked a total stranger, particularly right after yoga, but she did appeal to my strong egotistical need to BE an excellent fister, so I went for it.  I invited her to lay down on my yoga mat.  The uniform came off, and I lifted the camisol up to fondle her large breasts.  She started moaning loudly.  “Shhh!” I said.  “You’ll wake the kids!”

She grabbed the underwear that I had just peeled off her sweaty body and shoved them into her own mouth to muffle her noises.  That turned me on, so I immediately dove into her bush and started licking her to lube things up a bit.  First my fingers crept into her pussy, then gradually my knuckles.  Next came the thumb…until eventually most of my hand was moving around inside of her.  I like the way a vagina is smooth on the inside.  My hands are small enough that I can get them up inside even the smallest of women.  I turn my wrist back and forth, grinding up against their pelvis, and generating an intense rhythm.

My lovely barista writhed on the floor as I fist fucked her hard.  Her moans could still be heard through the panties that she had stuffed in her mouth.  At one point I reached up and removed them to wipe off her excess juices that were running down my arm.  Then I shoved the panties back in her mouth, as I could tell she was nearing orgasm and would probably be loud.

I picked up the pace of my fisting.  Her muscles were starting to contract around my hand.  She kicked and moaned through the panty gag.  All of a sudden, I felt her muscles squeeze, as she came with my fist still up inside of her.  I pulled out to let her rest, wiping my hand on the yoga mat.

“I need to get to sleep now…faculty meeting tomorrow at 9 A.M.”

“Ok, ” she moaned, sounding rather sleepy herself.  “Mind if I come over again soon?”

Me:  My God, our stats are way up, and it’s all thanks to the number of people searching for pee related crap!  I feel like I need to cater to them, but frankly I’m all dried up!

Barista:  I don’t believe that…you’re a bonafide pervert.  I’m sure you’ll think of more pee stories.  Drink more water…that should help.

Me:  Hey, I did get to see Ruthie pee in the woods, or rather I should say right on the hiking road.  She’s very skillful…good form, speed, supreme control…didn’t even have to take her backpack off.  Most impressive!  Now if I could get HER to drink more water, then I’d have something to write about!

Coffee masturbator tells police he needs a hand to stop
A man addicted to masturbation and flashing coffee makers has thanked police for catching him saying he needs a hand to stop.

I found this story a few days ago and still find myself wondering what I would do with this guy? If you read the story it says he is 20 years old. When I hear that I think, yum, young and juicy! Is it the sexy hats? The mystery of the drive thru window? Does he love coffee just that much? Or maybe just the cute baristas? He likes to watch internet porn and drink coffee, sounds like my kinda guy. How do we get him over to this blog? If I bit back would he like it or run away? I must admit I’ve spent some time fantasizing about giving him a “hand” though it’s probably not the one he needs.

Here goes one of my fantasies:

So this morning I’m working the drive thru window, which I hate. In fact, just about every barista I know hates working the drive thru. It’s tedious and annoying with none of that great face-to-face communication you get at the café. Everyone’s in a hurry and they don’t see any reason to be nice, or leave tips. Yet still I try to inject some happiness into everyone’s otherwise mediocre day. Little did I know that one of these very customers was going to return the favor today with a tip I would never forget.

He ordered a large coffee through the loudspeaker, black. “Thank you very much, that’ll be $2.03.” He pulled up driving an old blue Madza 323 and I turned toward him to take his money. His greenish blue eyes met mine and a mysterious smile crossed his face. I smiled widely. “How are you today?” His sandy brown hair was short and touseled. He was slender and I could tell by the way his legs were crammed into the car that he was tall.

“I’m fine,” he replied, “And you have great tits.” Stunned, I met his eyes again, he winked and looked down. My eyes followed his and I noticed his right hand was stroking a long thin cock.

“My goodness, that gives the term stick shift a whole new meaning,” I quipped.

He smeared his pre cum all over his dick and moaned. Then he reached out with the same hand to grab his coffee. “Can I have my coffee, please?”

Holding the cup just out of his reach I whispered, “What if I could offer you something better?”

“What?” he seemed surprised and a little scared.

“Come on, pretty boy, can’t you walk the walk?” He continued to look at me quizzically. “I get my ten minute break in here shortly. If you’re curious you’ll be in the parking lot when I come out.”

He drove off and I wondered what the hell I was doing. This guy was obviously a sicko but I couldn’t stop thinking about that gorgeous cock. That guy was too pretty to be getting his kicks by jacking off in the drive thru. Maybe he was just shy. Either way that youngster needed to be taught a thing or two.

When my supervisor told me to take a break, I high tailed it out the front door. There was his blue car parked just out of sight from the door. I sauntered over using my sexiest walk. The passenger side door was unlocked and I slipped inside.

He still looked scared but his dick was still exposed and hard as a rock. I smiled without saying a word and leaned over it. His body jerked and he stammered, “I, I’ve never had a blow job before.” I didn’t say anything, I just provocatively licked the tip. He stayed perfectly still and let out a long sigh. I sunk down on it, still moving my tongue as my mouth closed around it. Expertly, I let it sink down to the back of my throat, barely controlling my gag reflex. He moaned loudly and I knew this wouldn’t last long. Sucking hard, I teased his balls with my fingers. “Yes!” he yelled out as his come exploded into my mouth. I licked my lips and smiled at him.

“Now it’s time to give you a taste of your own medicine.”

“Huh?”

I reached up my skirt and began touching myself. Giving blow jobs always made me wet so I didn’t take long either. I made sure his eyes were glued to me as I quickly massaged my clit. I moaned loudly as I came, then I simply pulled down my skirt and exited the car, not even looking back. “Enjoy your coffee,” I said as I slammed the door behind me.

I told my former boss to get a flogger for her lover today… I think this blog is beginning to affect my mind and my life in very strange ways.  I wish I would’ve told them to invite me along…

I wish my life was HALF as exciting as my imagination is becoming.  I still haven’t even found anyone to make out with in the bathroom, per eroticego’s advice.  Bryan is completely MIA as well as the sexy woman who told me I have a nice smile.  Sooner or later I will take a wild flight of fancy and write my phone number on someones cup.  All the youngsters I work with get hit on all the time and some days I feel like Grandma Moses, LOL!

Question is, does Darcy drink coffee?

We were having a bad day at work and I told my coworker that I would stop complaining and just try to make her laugh. I pulled out a container full of old bananas we use for our smoothies and said, “Ewww, now I’m thinking something that would make you laugh, but I don’t know if I should say it.”

“Dirty humor is always okay with me,” she said.

I shook my head and said, “It’s a wonder the human race has survived at all,” dumping the shriveled, yet phallic, bananas into the trash.

It’s a conundrum I’ve never really been able to wrap my bisexual brain around. Women are so soft and succulent and sexy. By comparison, men seem awkward and gangly. Yet as much as I crave the silken embrace of a woman’s breast, I long for the thick, gorgeous, albeit gangly, hard cock in my mouth (and every other orifice, of course).

I once heard a noted radio psychologist say that there was no such thing as a bisexual because men and women were sooo different, how could you possibly be attracted to both? But isn’t that what is sexy about it? The differences, the glorious mysteries of finding pleasure with either gender? Reminds me of what ass said about polyamory: “The differences that we experience through many loves make us appreciate the uniqueness of everyone.” What a beautiful thing it can be to embrace pleasure in many forms.

Me:  So you did Bryan, huh?

Barista:  All for the love of fiction, baby.

Me:  That hurts!  We should conduct a poll, though, because I’m starting to think Bryan and Joe need to fuck each other.

Barista:  Joe’s a loser!  I’m not letting him near my Bryan!

Me:  Yea, well, Bryan’s a cheat…and you saw how much he was into that Finger.  God, those bitches are everywhere these days!!  Anyway, it’s a small leap from Finger to dildo, and then dildo to dick.  Yea, I’m thinking Bryan needs to experiment.

Even though I had never thought about Bryan sexually before, now it was all I could think about.  I felt fortunate I was a woman because if I was a man I would have been walking around with a boner all day.  My panties were warm and moist.  Normally I masturbated every once and a while but that day I sneaked away to masturbate four times.  And every time I was picturing his eyes, his face, his butt in those skin tight softball pants.  I called out his name as I came just to hear how it would sound.

Thursday morning I had dragged myself out of my wet dreams to open the coffee shop before dawn.  I couldn’t concentrate.  I kept spilling drinks and making them wrong.  I feared I might create a riot of sleepy coffee drinkers on their way to work.

Around lunch time Bryan schlepped into the store right before my shift ended.  I tried to hide my shaking hands and my racing heartbeat as I smiled and said hello.  His irresistible grin and the gleam in his eye made me want to go insane…

Me:  Alright, who’s this Bryan dude?  I thought you only flirted with me over coffee!

Barista:  I don’t flirt with you!  I pour your drink and listen to you blather on and on about women and weird diseases.  That does not constitute flirting.

Me:  (gasp)  You’re cheating on me!  I know it!  There’s no loyality in this town!

Barista:  Oh really?  Well, what does Thumb know that I don’t?  Who’s this “other vagina”?