Mary's Late Night Coffee

Tired and with sore feet, Mary was cleaning the last two tables. The clock chimed for 10pm, meaning she had one more hour until closing time. She could probably clean up now and close the cafe on time, since everyone had already left. Working as a part-time waitress was not easy money, especially when she had to come in on school days. Like today. But she figured it was worth it. Having her own money. Being able to buy nice things for herself. She tied her ombre-styled hair in a ponytail and got to work.

Just as she finished cleaning the last table, she heard the door open. She grit her teeth, annoyed. Looking up, she realized it was Jamie, a sweet man in his 50s. Her jaw relaxed. Jamie would often come here for a cup of coffee in the evenings. He had a bit of weight on him, but besides that, he was in pretty good shape. Even though it was nearly closing time, she didn't have the heart to turn him away.

"Good evening, young lady."

"Hey, Jamie! Out for a quick cup before bedtime?"

"You know it," he said, casually winking at her. After bringing him his coffee to the bar where he sat, they struck up a conversation. She had already cleaned most of the stuff, leaving her with nothing better to do.

"Thanks, dear," he said, taking a quick sip. "You're quite the cleaning fiend, aren't ya, ha-ha? I can see my reflection in these," he said, pointing at the marbled surface he was leaning on.

"You know me," she chuckled. "Well, it was empty so I cleaned up before closing time. Everyone else left, so I figured I could close early..."

"Ah, my apologies, Mary. I completely lost track of time, and, had I known you were getting ready to go home..."

"Oh, no no no. I didn't mean it like that, Jamie. You know I always treat you special," she winked back. "I was feeling lonely in this empty cafe anyways!"

"You're golden, girl," he smiled, warmly. Like he usually did. He just had this likeable, charismatic, almost hypnotic way about him. One could listen to him speak for hours.

"Say, have I ever told you about this beautiful cafe in Paris? To tell you the truth, it wasn't unlike this one. The nature of my business sometimes called for me to stay at the city of love for weeks on end... And I would start every day in this lovely little spot at the back - just like that one," he pointed at the nearby booth. "Oh, the croissants and latte's they would make... Marvelous. But I'll be honest, my dearest - they weren't the reason I kept coming. This young lady that worked as a waitress enchanted me. The way she spoke, the way her hands moved - so elegant and feminine," he took a dramatic pause. Sipped his coffee, as he looked at the distance.

"Love at first sight, was it? I assume your wife wasn't too happy about that though," she said, teasing him a little bit.

"Oh, no no, my dear. It was a very long time ago. I had yet to meet my wife back then."

"So - what happened? Did you... You know - approach her?"

"I really had no choice, did I? When the heart burns with such desire - what can one do but follow it? I would leave a red rose on top of my empty cup. I was showering her with compliments each opportunity I got. Leaving love notes, asking her out on a nice dinner date, wine tastings, art exhibits... And nothing," he shook his head slightly, as if reliving it all over again.

"Oh, you are so sweet," she said, placing her hand on top of his, comforting him.

He cupped her hand warmly. "And so I departed from France, eventually. I met my wife, not too long after that. And... I never saw that girl again." He stared at his cup for a while, still holding her hand. Smiling slightly and nodding. He snapped out of it. Giving her a friendly tap, he released her hand. "Enough of the past woes of the heart - did I tell you about that one time I smuggled cigarettes into Germany?"

"Oh, I love that one!"

"So, me and my buddy Oliver," Jamie started. It was so mesmerizing hearing him talk. No wonder he got out of so many sticky situations... The conversation was unsurprisingly interesting and pleasant. As it always was with Jamie. She poured herself some filtered coffee as well. As they spoke, his hands seemed to find ways to engage in physical contact with her. Whether it be brushing her thigh through her jeans, or softly grabbing her slender shoulders. She has gotten to know Jamie quite well these past few months. And his physicality was part of his story telling. She had gotten accustomed to it fairly quickly. Truthfully, she was enjoying it a little bit. Maybe more than a bit. He was a lovely fellow, and she liked attention. What was the harm in that? His eyes would wander down her white blouse as he talked. They lingered a bit longer each time they found their way there. While not the biggest breasts, Mary definitely packed a beautiful pair. Soft and pliable to the touch, yet firm and beautifully shaped. Noticing this, she squeezed them together. Not so subtly - providing him with a better view. Jamie was fidgeting on his barstool. His bald head slightly red from excitement. From time to time, he would try to unnoticeably adjust the bulge that was growing in his jeans. It was, in fact, noticeable. His shape was clearly outlined through the thin fabric of his brown pants. A considerably large outline, painting Mary's cheeks a subtle red.

As he finished another one of his stories, he paused a bit, softly clinking his wedding ring on the, now empty, cup of coffee.

"You know, my wife and I used to be so passionate back in the day. We were so... romantic. Passionate. Not to be crude, but the sex was - simply incredible. And oh so frequent ha-ha. She was fiery back then... But for the past 10 years..." Jamie stopped. A mix of sadness and resentment in his eyes as he gazed absentmindedly into his empty cup.

"What do you think happened," Mary asked, curious.

"Ah, my dear. A lot. People get old, lose their fire. Relationships grow cold," he shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Your flame seems to be very much alive and kicking, mister," she said in an effort to cheer him up.

He chuckled, "Damn right, it is!". They both share a laugh, dissolving into silence again. A light breeze hummed through the leaves in front of the cafe.

"It seems like you at least had a period of that burning passion. Not many people experience that in their life," Mary said, breaking the silence.

"Is that so? Why, that doesn't sound like a life worth living. A life without that spark. Without that passion burning inside. Without desire for another being so primal and rigid it tears your very being into pieces. Ugh, those were the days." He stopped briefly, watching her. "Have you never felt that, my dear?"

She stumbled over her words, "Oh, I mean, of- of course I did. You know how it is when you are young. That feeling and all..." Jamie smiled at her, but didn't push it further.

"I haven't felt it in years, you know," he said. "Not just felt, haven't... Done anything in years.". After a brief pause he continued with honeyed words, "You've been a very welcome company, Mary. You really made the last few months wonderful for me, you know?" He paused, not expecting an answer. "I know what I am going to propose could bring this to an end, on top of being indecent and selfish as well. And, you know, a man builds up pressure inside, over the years of inactivity. It becomes... unbearable. A deep discomfort - no - pain. It takes a hold in one's mind, in one's body. And only one solution to it... So..." He stopped. His expression - vulnerable. A mask for depravity. "Would- would you help an old man relive his youthful days?"

"H-how would I do that?" Mary answered, feigning innocence. Trying to hide the excitement. From him. But also - from herself.

"Well... A delicate and passionate caress with your lovely hands would be wonderful," words from his mouth mellowed. He met her vibrant green eyes. Before she could answer, he continued, "Listen, here's a little something, and you can buy yourself something nice," he slid a 50 euro bill across the table. "Friends help each other out, right?"

As he let go of the bill, she grabbed it. A little bit quicker than she meant to. Pocketing the money, Mary hurriedly locked the door of the cafe and pulled the blinds. Jamie got comfortable in the booth he pointed at earlier. She could feel the heat rising in her crotch as she sat next to him. The zipper of his jeans slowly opened. He pulled his pants and boxers to his ankles. A grey bush covered his groin. From it, he emerged. A magnificent sight. Bulging veins were visible under his tense skin, forming beautiful, river-like patterns. They ran around the circumference of his hardness, which could barely be grasped by her dainty fingers. Her eyes eagerly traced them along his shaft. "And I thought Jason was big," she thought to herself. Finally, the tip was crowned by a slightly smaller head, loosely draped in his foreskin. His crotch smelled musky and sweaty. She liked it. It was... manly - a novelty for her. As if hypnotized by it, her hand grabbed it. Slowly, she pulled the foreskin back. His pink head revealed itself. A more intense, seductive aroma entered her nostrils. The head of his member was covered with precum, sticky and translucent, glistening in the warm light. She started stroking his dick. Slowly, along it's length, not taking her eyes off of it. Moaning softly, Jamie caressed her cheek as he gazed upon her flushed face. Her young lips, plump and red - inviting. But, he did not dare. Both of her hands were now grasping his cock. Not enough to cover him whole. It was a sight to behold. Seeing such a beautiful creation of nature was a reward, in and of itself. A few soft and stifled moans escaped her. The pace quickened. Her grasp was getting tighter. He throbbed within it. Lifting her eyes up, she saw him. Gaze fixated on her breasts. A look of primal passion in his eyes. Breathing heavily and grunting, he felt a sudden spasm. She felt him harden in her hands. The first squirt was strong and intense, landing just above her cleavage. Shivers ran through her body from her sperm-coated skin. He continued spraying his seed all over her. Untamable. Uncontrollable. Splashing over her blouse. Her jeans. The final reserves of his sperm oozed from is dick, coating her pale soft hands. His warmth felt good on her. He - felt good.

Jamie stood still for a minute, panting.

"That was... wonderful, dear. I do hope... we can... do this again sometime," he continued, panting.

"I will help you out again when you need it," she said eagerly. "I... if there's more of this, that is," she said, pulling out the 50 euros. Smooth save.

"Hah, smart girl!" His smiling eyes turned warm. "You're such a good friend, Mary. Thank you... Truly." He caressed her brunette hair softly, fading to platinum blonde at the ends. Her cheeks flushed.

"Friends help each other out, right?" She chuckled, avoiding his eyes innocently.

They exchanged goodbyes and he left, leaving her. Wanting and alone. His essence covered her. Intense and musky. She craved it. As soon as the doors of the cafe closed behind him, she was pulling her jeans and panties down frantically. The red panties she wore were soaked with her juices. Her pussy lips - pink and wide open. Sitting in the booth with her legs spread and feet on the table, she greased her clitoris with his sperm. As she spread his juices all over her swollen lips, she licked the other hand clean. Imagining him inside of her, she pushed her fingers deep inside herself. Pink and hot against her fingers. Thoughts - non-existent. Inaudible moans echoed outside the cafe. Under the pale moonlight, creeping through the branches, an owl hoots. Then it hit her. A tidal wave of whole body spasms. Each one making her ooze with pleasure. Her walls squeezed tightly around her finger. Throbbing. Aching. Merciless. Until every last fiber in her body gave out. She slumped. Her fingers slid out. Her entrance gaping, relaxed. Satisfied and panting, her mind drifted aimlessly. She twitched slightly, breathing raggedly. Trying to regain control of her mind. Aimlessly, until it landed back on Jaime. Back to... It. The sight of it. The feel of it. The scent of it. Carved in her memory, never to be erased. And her hand drifted - back to her blooming flower once again.