Starbucks Reverie


I’ve been retired for several years, and while I’m still fit and active, I have no objection to sitting around on occasion, doing little or nothing but enjoying the view, whatever it is. A favourite place of mine on a sunny day is a Starbucks coffee shop down by the harbour with a nice terrace cantilevered out over the water.

It’s a glorious day, and I’m sitting outside with my coffee while doing the New York Times crossword puzzle. I look around, and from time to time idly watch a guy sprawled in an armchair across the way from me. In his twenties, he has curly blond hair and is wearing faded jeans and a short sleeved shirt over hairy muscular arms, and big white sneakers over large feet.

There are a few other patrons in the coffee shop, but none near us. Unaware that I’ve got my eye on him, he crosses then uncrosses his long legs, and adjusts his crotch. He lights a cigaret and, gazing off in the ataşehir escort distance, after a deep drag exhales long twin streams of smoke. Between this sight and the requirement for a four letter word for delightful duet, I drift off into a reverie that might surprise him.

This guy is a serious smoker and clearly enjoying his cigaret, is soon wreathed in that peculiarly attractive surround of slow grey tendrils. “Stay right where you are, my man,” I think to myself, I have an idea.”

Gazing into space in his general direction, I slide him forward in his seat and lift his hairy legs up and back to his shoulders. This displays his ass to perfection, and the sun slanting through the late afternoon window highlights the red-blond hairs on the backs of his legs and ass. I lean in and breathe deep. I’m mildly intoxicated by the sightsmell of his ass crack. His coral pucker is a miniature ataşehir escort masterpiece nestled in a swirl of strawberry blond hairs and I can’t take my eyes off it. He’s clean all over but there is a lingering scent of male -je ne sais quoi -is there such a thing as a phantom aroma of clean shit? I decide there is, and breathe deeper. Leaning in further still, I can resist no longer and plunge my nose between his ass cheeks, and scrub his bum thoroughly with my bearded face.

Oblivious, he sighs contentedly as he takes another long drag on his smoke and stretches comfortably.

I lift my head to get another look at his perfect little asshole. I too, sigh contentedly and unfurl my tongue for an exploratory wander around it’s perimeter. Perhaps on some unconscious level he is somehow aware that all is not as usual south of his belt, because when I say to myself (and his asshole) “How anadolu yakası escort about a little push?” I am -just inches from his rectal splendor, surprised and delighted, as, in seeming response to my idle thought, his pink rosebud erects itself into a little cupcake that fairly screams “EAT ME!”

“Who am I?” I think to myself, “to say no to an invitation like this?” I open my mouth and -dropping a circlet of pearly teeth around it, I nip it gently… And… not so gently. My tongue takes a lap -and then another, and then I spread it wide and do his little hole serious justice. I scour his pucker till I have to come up for air. My tongue, in it’s new role as an aggressive weapon returns to pointed form and attacks his little fuckpucker furiously. I jab and stab and lick and tonguefuck his terrific little butthole till my jaw aches. I am delirious with lust.

-Suddenly and without warning, he stands up…!?! “Where the hell is that woman?” he mutters… “She said she’d be here half an hour ago.” And he LEAVES.

After I uncross my eyes, I sadly return to my crossword puzzle, and that last clue “delightful duet”…-the four letter answer to which is obviously, FUCK!

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