|Blogs > domaniday > whoring diaries|
i'm browsing the personals today, here's a gal looking for a sensitive sweet humorous cute etc etc so far so good....
Yeah she continues: "Any cool fun ppl such as goths, Nazis, emos and punks".
does she really want a sensitive sweet humourous cute nazi? do nazi's dig chinese girls? i am ignorant of this, perhaps the nazi movement has moved on?
I digress. But just long enough to find a picture of edward norton in american history x. maybe this girl would like that.
It's delivery day in pacific coffee.
the girls to a woman have applied delivery day makeup. a little piece of jewelrry here and there. extra effort today because today, two strapping delivery boys will wheel in several tonnes of ground coffee, packed in enough boxes to fill a baggage carousel, each one just heavy enough to ripple the muscles of the vested couriers, just big enough to get the testosterone pumping and the girls love it.
the boxes come and come and the girls do not want the delivery to end. at each exchange a little more flirting. the queue of customers grows as only the boys are left behind the counter and even some of them are twitching to go play with the delivery guys.
and with a crash, the last box is down and Blossom finds herself behind a wall of coffee and cardboard with the horny delivery guy wanting his chit signed. her delivery guy.
cut out the world. cut out the coffee shop banter, the clatter and hum of laptops, velcro bags, newspapers, coffee cups and plates, chairs and all the sexual chemistry hanging like a fog over the tables by the window. cut out all that, that is not blossom's world. her world is right here behind these boxes with a man she fancies, with a man she flirted with every week for three months before he first took her gently by the arm and led her into the ladies' toilets next door, quickly, deftly extracing her from her work to excited thumbs up from her friends and bitchy comments from the one western girl working the counter.
she'd fantasised about going on a date, getting together under the stars on a beach, but suddenly this was what she wanted. this was real. he was standing in the cubicle, he'd sat her down and stood in front of her and unzipped his jeans. he reached in for his cock, big beautiful and twitching and that was all she wanted. fuck the constellations. fuck the beach, roses, candlelight, romantic talk and a seven hour seduction, she just wanted that cock inside her, her pussy wide awake. she moaned and grabbed at him, wrapped her mouth around it as if kissing a man she thought she;d never see again... and within seconds he'd cum right in her mouth. the smell and taste of his cum just drove her wild and she wanted more but he was already zipping up, smiling shyly, wanting to get the fuck out of the cubicle away from the disapproving vibe coming from the mamasan attendant outside.
that was several months ago and since then she'd tamed her delivery boy. his tinderbox ejaculations slowed, he had time to get inside her; she, apron around her tiny waist, black jeans and panties to the floor, they'd given up on the toilets with mamasan's clucking and discovered the joy of fucking behind the boxes, public sex which nobody saw, he'd quickly ram inside her, quietly both of them feeling the connection but daring not to make a sound of joy, a few quiet stroked and she;'d feel him pulsing inside her and he'd be out, gone, leaving her distant and smiling for the rest of the day.
that was May 15, delivery day, that was some good secret fucking blossom and the delivery guy had going on and nothing would ever give them away, not the sliver of cum down the back of her trousers afterwards, not the smell of sex reeking from behind the boxes, not the inevitable moans, his grunting exhaling orgasm no secret to anyone.
this was public sex that no-one would ever see because to the customers of the pacific coffee, blossom and the delivery guy were not real people. they were there to serve. they did not fuck, period.
blossom and the delivery guy could have fucked on the table by the window and nobody would have noticed. she could have straddled his cock on the sofa and nobody would have even moved their coffee. she could have fucked him against the chiller cabinet, mashing the sandwiches and danish pastries and sending cascades of cans tumbling across the floor and the customers would have registered it as "staff noise".
who knew, who cared but blossom got a fantastic cock scratching her itch once a month and that's all that matters in this story.