Coffee with Cynthia


It was late. Or at least it was getting there. The three of us had been talking for about an hour and a half. Mason, Cynthia, and me. We were all friends from grad school, and we had decided to hit the coffee shop one night after a long class session.

“See, I think that they should make suicide its own DSM diagnosis,” Cynthia said.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Because, I mean, it’s part of so many other diagnoses, but I think that for some people it can be a big part of their overall mental illness. I think it deserves its own classification and its own treatment.”

“Yeah, but,” I began, taking a quick sip of my mocha, “the problem with that is that it makes suicidality less fluid. If you lock someone into a diagnosis, then it makes it harder for them to see getting past that.”

“Good point,” she mused. She sipped at her iced tea, looking at me quietly.

I know, we’re nerds. I guess we should just establish that part from the outset. But, really, what do you expect from second year counseling psychology students?

“Well,” Mason interjected, “I’m going to head back. I still have a paper to finish for Dr. Tanis’ class.”

“Okay, Mace,” I said. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” he said, and grabbed his bag and left the coffee shop.

Like I said, it was late, but the place was still fairly hopping. There were little pockets of people all around the place, but it didn’t feel crowded.

I looked over at Cynthia, who was sipping her drink and looking out the window. “Whatcha thinking about now?”

“Oh, nothing,” she commented. Cynthia had a soft voice, with a small bit of a lisp. I always wondered what it would be like to be one of her clients, sitting in the chair and trying to take her seriously. But, she pulled it off well. Actually, it was kind of cute. “I was just thinking that you’re pretty smart.”

“Aww, well, thank you.”

“And pretty cute.”

Whoa. I’m not going to lie, I wasn’t expecting that one. I mean, Cynthia and I were classmates, but we had never even flirted or hinted at liking each other. I hadn’t even thought about it, really, until she said that.

Cynthia looked a bit embarrassed. Her cheeks were a little red, and I could see her blue eyes looking around nervously from underneath her black hair.

“I think you’re cute too.” I replied softly.

Cynthia smiled, and we went on to talk a little bit more. I don’t quite remember what we were talking about. I think it was mostly about class and the next paper we had due, but eventually Cynthia decided to drop another bomb in the conversation. “Do you want to go back to my place and have sex?”

“What?!?” I gulped a little, and looked around to make sure no one had noticed my minor commotion.

Now Cynthia had a wicked look on her face. Her eyes were narrowed, and she was smiling as she was running her thumb along the straw of her drink. “I want to fuck you.”

I took a few breaths, wetting my mouth to speak. “Sure,” I managed.

“Good,” she smiled bigger. Quickly she grabbed her back, stood up, and took my hand. I didn’t even have a chance to put my cup on the counter before she drug me out of the coffee shop and led me to her car.

As we were walking, and as my dick had time to start throbbing and swelling uncomfortably in my pants, I took stock of Cynthia. She was dressed rather conservatively. She had on some black shoes, jeans, and a black blouse top. Her right arm was covered in bracelets and her left had her watch. That was the hand she was leading me with, casting smiling glances at me as we walked down the sidewalk.

When we reached her car, she unlocked it and looked at me before getting in. “Do you have any condoms?”

“Not with me. Should we stop and get some?”

“No,” she said, hopping into the car, “I’ve got some at home.”

And just like that we were in her car on our way to her place for what was sure to take our mind off school for a while.

* * *

We arrived back at Cynthia’s place, and hopped out of her car to head inside. She seemed to be in a hurry, though she didn’t say much or offer any outward advances. She opened the building door first, asking me to follow her up to the third floor bonus veren siteler where her apartment was. She deftly opened the door to the apartment, inviting me inside.

Cynthia’s place was pretty cool. I’d been over there a few times for game nights, study sessions, and even a class dinner. It seemed familiar now, but still somehow different. Maybe it was because most of the lights were off, or maybe it was just because of the fact of what we were about to do. She dropped her bag into a chair at the dining room table, and then came confidently towards me.

Silently, her lips were against mine. She was sensual and forceful at the same time. I could feel her body press against me, and in turn press me against the door, as she let out soft moans into our mouths. I responded by grabbing her butt, pulling her crotch against mine so she could feel my now fully erect dick against her. She moaned at that, and reached down a hand between us to start rubbing my crotch. I groaned, and she bit my lip a little, pulling and tugging at it playfully.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” she said. And she slid a couple of fingers down the front of my pants, taking hold of the material and pulling me with her to her bedroom. There was a small lava lamp on which gave the room a greenish glow, but that was all there was to see by. It didn’t matter, though, because by now our eyes had adjusted, and I could see Cynthia more fully in the dark.

She started to unfasten and unzip my pants, and I reached forward to do the same to her. She slid a hand down into my boxers, boldly gripping and jerking my dick while I leaned forward to start pulling and tugging down her jeans and panties. Cynthia skillfully kicked off her shoes, and stepped out of her pants and panties, leaving her just in her top and socks.

“Take off your shirt,” she said gently.

I complied, quietly lifting off my t-shirt. She watched me do it, biting her lip and taking off her top at the same time. God she was cute. I don’t know why I’d never really thought of this before. I regretted it even more as I watched her free her breasts. Even still in her black bra, I could see that they were ample, and that they were perfectly smooth. Her pale skin glowed a light green in the light of the lava lamp, and she stepped forward slowly to take hold of my pants and boxers. And in one movement, she knelt down in front of me, pulling my pants and boxers to my ankles, lifting my dick into her mouth with her tongue.

“Uhh!” I gasped.

“Mmm,” she moaned in response, already swirling her tongue over my shaft. She was gulping at it too, and I could hear her making smacking and licking sounds. They were a bit distracting at first, but I found myself getting more and more turned on by them in no time at all. She was bobbing her head along my cock steadily, and I had reached down to run my fingers through her hair. I started to feel my dick tingle, getting nearer to orgasm, and instinctively I pulled at her hair.

Cynthia responded by deepthroating me.

I grunted loudly. My dick was aching in her mouth, and I could feel the naked, sensitive tip of it pressed against the inside of her throat.

She held herself like that for a long moment before finally pulling herself off of my shaft, gasping for air. “Want to put that thing inside of me?”

“You bet,” I moaned, reaching down to pull her up. Eagerly I stepped into her, my naked body pressing against her, kissing her fiercely. She teased my mouth with her tongue, and I slid my tongue along hers into her open, waiting mouth. She was already jerking at my dick again, and even as my legs quaked, I pushed her back towards the bed.

Cynthia sat down quickly on the bed, turning over to crawl across it and reach into her nightstand. Quietly she pulled out a strip of condoms, and a tube of lube. She pulled off one of the condoms, tossing it to me, and then opened the bottle to squirt some lube into her hand. “Phew, cold,” she muttered, reaching down to gently rub the lube into her pussy lips.

I opened up the packet to the condom, and quickly unrolled it along my dick. Cynthia had tossed the lube farther over on the bed, and was looking at me, her legs bahis spread, rubbing her clit.

“Going to put on a show?”

“If you like,” she moaned.

“I wouldn’t mind,” I smiled at her.

Her response was a series of shaky breaths and moans as she started to make fierce rubbing movements along her clit. She still had her black socks on, and they were giving her traction as she lifted her back and butt off the bed, moaning steadily as she swirled over her clit.

“Oh God, mmm….” She moaned. “Uh!” She gasped, and I watched as her legs shook and trembled fiercely, and listened to her shattered breaths as the orgasm hit her. I watched until it had subsided, and then I started to take a step closer to the bed. As I did, she held up her free hand to stop me. “Wait,” she gasped. She was rubbing herself again, faster this time. I watched, feeling my dick twitch at the show being put on before me.

Cynthia was groaning and panting now, and her face was contorted in what looked like severe effort. Her breath sounded fast and in short bursts, and she tossed her head back into her pillows, screaming, “I’m cumming!”

I watched as Cynthia erupted. I mean that literally. I watched mesmerized as her pussy squirted a stream across the length of her bed. Some of it even splattered onto my legs. All the while she was shaking and trembling, even as she soaked her bed with her own cum.

She came two more times before she finally collapsed, running out of steam or out of strength, laying panting on her bed.

Sometime during all of that, I had begun stroking my cock. And it was in my hand now, and I was stroking it heavily. Cynthia was still breathing shakily. “Get on the bed,” she ordered.

I did as she said, and crawled up to sit between her legs, stroking my condom-covered cock. “Put it in me,” she demanded. And I did. I leaned forward, using my hand to position the shaft and drive it up inside her pussy.

It slid in easily, and I didn’t wait to start pumping and humping her. She was breathing loudly and moaning again, and she reached up to grab my shoulders as I rammed her.

“Fuck me. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Yes…” I hissed. I gripped the headboard to her bed, positioning myself so I could force my dick inside her as hard and as fast as possible. Cynthia was a scrunched little mass beneath me, her legs spread wide, her knees almost up to her head as I plowed her. I began to grunt and groan, and she grunted with me. She slid her hands down my chest, dragging her fingernails along my skin. The pain was pleasure, and it sent me moving even faster inside of her.

I felt it rising. That budding force of orgasm. When your semen begins to pump up the pipe, and when you know you can’t hold out much longer. And I pushed through it. I screamed, I moaned, I grunted, I rocked her bed against the wall, so much so that the headboard made banging sounds that I’m sure carried through the walls to the rooms below and on all sides.

And then I exploded. Loads of cum filled the condom, and Cynthia moaned as she felt me burst. “Yes!” She wrapped her arms and legs around me, working with her pussy to milk my dick for more.

I was sweaty and panting now, and my dick was still throbbing, oozing slightly as the last of my cum was milked from it. My shoulders hurt. My arms were stiff. Sweat dripped down my hair into my eyes, and I sat back on my knees to rest my arms and breathe.

Cynthia kept trying to move along my dick, even as it sat limply inside of her. She was rubbing her hands over her body, and over my legs.

“You’re good,” she cooed. “That felt really good.”

“Mmm,” I sighed. “You feel really good.”

“Mmm,” she smiled, and I leaned down to kiss her gently.

We kissed softly for a few moments, and then I sat up to pull myself out of her. When I pulled off the condom, it felt like it weighed a pound. And Cynthia commented, “Impressive.” We laughed, and I reached over to wrap it up in some Kleenex she had by her bed.

* * *

I woke later to the feel of Cynthia’s tongue gently licking my dick. I looked down surprised, noticing that the sun was showing through the closed curtains of her bedroom. deneme bonusu I also noticed Cynthia had finally removed her bra, a fact that was evidenced by her breasts pressing and grinding against my legs.

“Oh,” I groaned.

“Mmm,” she moaned, picking up the pace of her movements, starting to slide my dick in and out of her mouth. In a couple of minutes, she had it at its full glory again. When she sensed that, she climbed up my body a little, straddling my crotch and guiding my dick up inside of her.

“Oh!” I gasped. Cynthia’s eyes half shut as she started to make hard, jerking movements along my cock. “Shouldn’t we use a condom?”

“No,” she moaned breathily. She was eager, and she was already grinding herself along me, rubbing her hairy pussy against my body. “Just don’t cum in me.”

“Okay,” I resigned.

Cynthia leaned forward like a creature possessed. She took hold of my wrists and pressed them into the pillows. She didn’t even open her eyes as she moved along me. Instead, she squeezed my dick inside of her, and made fast, heavy movements along my cock. I watched as her breasts jiggled above me, and felt as she wrapped her ankles over mine.

She started softly at first, but it kept building. “Fuck me. Fuck me. Yes. Fuck me.” Soon she was grunting it, and a few times I felt my dick throb and ache with the force of how eagerly and hard she was moving along it.

“Un,” was all I managed. A weak, feeble, half-hearted protest. I don’t think she even heard.

Instead, I watched her face as it contorted again, and as she whimpered and moaned and grunted until she stopped moving, and I felt her legs quiver against mine, and felt her pussy spasm, and felt the cum inside her start leaking along my shaft.

“Oh God, Cynthia,” I moaned.

She didn’t respond. She still held me pinned beneath her, and I could smell the scent of cum and sweat on the air.

After several minutes, Cynthia finally relaxed, and she climbed off my dick. She was almost in a daze. Her body looked worn and exhausted. Her skin was flushed, and there were bruises on her shoulders, and legs from where we had been fucking the night before. Now she looked over at me listlessly and said quietly, “Where would you like to cum?”

“I don’t need to cum,” I reassured.

“Yes you do,” she smiled gently. “I got to cum. Besides, I want you to.” She looked down at my dick and then up to me. “I want you to cum in me.”

“Without a condom?” I asked.

“No. Not in my pussy. You can cum in my butt.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

Silently Cynthia climbed onto her hands and knees, resting her head in the pillows as she looked back at me, watching as I lined my dick up with her asshole. “Push it in,” she said haughtily.

I did. I forced my dick inside her ass, and was rewarded by how tight and bare it was. It was like fucking a one inch hole with a two inch rod. It pulled my dick so much as I moved in and out. Cynthia was gripping the pillows with her hand, making grunting noises as I started to fuck her.

I decided to use her this time. She had gotten to use me, so I was going to do the same. And I grabbed hold of her waist, and pulled her along my shaft as I fucked her. “Oh,” she whimpered and breathed, surprised with how I had taken control.

I did my best to control my breathing, holding myself down so I wouldn’t burst too soon. And we continued like that for 10 or 15 minutes, alternating between speedy thrusts and slow ones, all the while my dick growing seemingly harder in her butthole. Then, when I almost wasn’t able to take it anymore, her moans turned to slight winces of pain, and I knew that I had reached my goal. I had fucked her raw.

I quickly sped up my thrusts, and as she winced and made soft little blows of exhaled pain, I shot my load inside of her. One heavy, sticky, wet stream after another oozed into her butthole, and she worked to milk my dick for more.

Finally I pulled out of her, slowly enough that a bit of my cum came oozing out of her ass, slowly sliding down towards her pussy lips. She moaned heavily, reaching back with a hand between her legs to rub the cum into her skin.

“Mmm,” she sighed, and rolled onto her side, looking up at me.

I smiled down at her.

“We should do this more often,” she said in her light, lispy voice.

“What? Go out?”

“No,” she smiled. “I don’t want a boyfriend. But, we should do this more often.”

Who was I to protest?

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