The Café

Part 3

So annoying but work did rather have the first call on Chris and the Thursday saw him in Leeds not London. He did have his morning cappuccino but that was in a café off Briggate not in Soho. The girl who served him was very pleasing to the eye, very nice altogether, and Chris certainly thought thoughts, but it was not the same as with Milka. The girl certainly did not invite him upstairs, not that Chris could see stairs to an upstairs in any case!

Friday morning, though, saw Chris back in Soho and his café.

"We misses you yesterday, Chris." A big, if a little lopsided smile, from Milka. "We misses you didn't we Toma? Cappuccino?"

Unsurprisingly there was no real answer from Toma. He looked tired but whether he really missed or liked Chris 'helping him out' was not at all clear.

Chris sat drinking as customers came and went. Would Milka invite him upstairs? Absence makes the heart grow fonder... or was it more his cock missing her?

The surge of customers thinned and disappeared. Over beyond the counter Milka said something to Toma. Chris was watching them but trying not to appear to be doing so. Out of the corner of his eye, indeed. Toma looked at Milka and she looked at him. Eventually there was a nod from him and a kiss to his cheek from Milka. Chris interpreted it as permission sought and granted. He was right.

"Come," said Milka to Chris, her finger curling; drawn away from him and towards her. Toma opened the counter hatch not saying a word to Chris and for the fourth time Chris ascended the stairs, Milka's green and white cotton skirt swishing.

"Toma, he wonder what we do upstairs."

Chris was hardly surprised. He rather felt for Toma. Having a strange man take his wife upstairs and use her could not be easy for him: not that his scruples in any way made him want to stop. It was Milka doing the taking upstairs in any case; it was rather Chris who was being used -- and he was more than happy to have his prick used in pretty much any way Milka wanted.

"Do you tell him?"

"Of course. I tells him everythings."

Chris looked back at the door to the stairs. Down below Toma might be serving customers. He knew all. What did he think? Was he at that moment thinking of Chris' hands perhaps lifting his wife's bare breasts, her hard nipples pushed into Chris' palms?

"You undress, I undress in bedroom. We meet. I have surprise."

Chris watched Milka's bottom swish into the bedroom and then he undressed. A strange thing to be doing in another couple's flat just as if he was getting ready for bed -- in their sitting room. He walked over to the kitchenette; breakfast things stacked for washing up. A calendar on the wall showing a very different country from England, the buildings very different from Soho. Milka and Toma's hometown perhaps.

"Chris?" Milka was standing in the bedroom doorway, a little silhouetted by the sash window to the street but it was clear enough she was only almost naked. A pair of rather brief white panties adorned her hips, gauzy but with little flowers giving a little more substance and partially obscuring her fair pubic hair beneath. Her mons veneris and its curly covering giving a delightfully mounded shape to the front of the panties. Upon her legs and reaching to gusset level a pair of white stockings elasticated at the top with ever so pretty white bows to the sides. Milka moved one knee forward in a classic pose.

"You like? I keep them for special, for Toma."

Chris very much liked. Sweetly pretty Milka, her face a little flushed and with her special grin, her breasts rounded and simply there. A topless girl with knickers and stockings. A picture indeed. Chris stepped forward; that he liked what he saw very much evident from his upstanding penis.

Unbidden Milka dropped not to her knees but to a crouch, not to fellate or wank but just to stroke his balls hanging beneath his erect cock. A gentle running of her fingers across the wrinkled skin. A delight.

"Nice balls. Not empty but... no babies. Nice cock. You going to fuck Milka with it?"

He was happy for the moment just to stand there and feel Milka's fingertips upon his scrotum, see her face so close to his hard penis, see her high cheekbones, her nose and mouth so close to his swollen knob. In his mind the thought, 'suck, suck, suck!" But Milka did not. Just a hint of a lick to his fraenum and she was standing, reaching her hand for his and leading him into the bedroom.

The sex was on rather than in the bed. Milka had him lie down and she mounted him 'cowgirl' style. The white stockings were not removed, nor the knickers. Chris found it rather exciting for Milka to pull the knickers aside and guide him into her now uncovered entrance. As each time with Milka, so good to feel his knob sliding up into the girl, feeling her warmth and wetness and knowing his was the first naked penis to travel that way. This time was different in that it was Milka doing the work, Milka doing the moving; Milka doing the fucking. Chris merely had to lay there, spread-eagled upon the bed, relaxed, luxuriating in the feeling -- being lazy almost -- and have Milka bathe his penis with her wet vagina. Slowly up and slowly down. He could watch his penis appearing and disappearing up into that so delightful triangle made by her spread thighs. At its apex her soft fair curls, making an opposing triangle, largely hidden by the knickers. From his vantage point, with the gusset pushed aside by his erect cock within her, he could just about make out see how her slit ran on down to clitoral hood and paired labia, see it moving as Milka exercised. Above, pretty round, uncovered, breasts moving and above her smiling face. The girl occasionally biting the edge of her bottom lip in pleasure as she looked down at him. Should he perhaps fondle her breasts, but it was rather good to see her occasionally touch her own, wet a finger and stroke one of her hard red nipples. It added to the erotic feeling of him being used by her. A man with penis attached -- a man to be ridden and enjoyed. Were the stockings and pretty knickers more for her than him? In a way the casual pulling aside of the knickers and pushing in of his penis rather suggested that.

Almost, almost -- Chris could see Milka was on the verge. She stopped with him fully impaled. Was she holding herself on the edge?

Around the bedroom door frame, all of a sudden, Toma appeared. Chris had not heard him approaching; had not heard footsteps on the stairs or the door at the top opening; had not heard Toma cross the sitting room. But there he was; expressionless, standing and looking. There for a moment and then gone. It would have put Chris off had he been the active participant of the copulation, but he was not. In a way it was perhaps better for Toma to see them like that. Milka very much using him rather than the other way around. Milka had not seen Toma; was unaware he had looked in and seen his half naked wife atop their naked customer. But he would have seen their special stockings and knickers being used; because of Milka's temporary rest would have seen nothing of the actual sexual intercourse but would have known, could have imagined nothing else, that Chris' erect penis was inside Milka -- inside his wife - naked, erect, unsheathed and about to release his semen, or even have already done so, into his wife.

Chris did not mention, did not disturb Milka's ride. If it disturbed him there was nothing he could do -- or did -- other than to let her carry on; her wet sheath once more sliding up and down his upstanding 'pole,' sending innumerable pleasure signals to his brain. Almost before Toma would have reached the stairs -- and not if he had perhaps paused to listen -- Milka was crying out as her orgasm came; pushing down hard upon Chris' cock, really riding it at the gallop. Of course, quite impossible with flying boobs, the squelching sounds of vigorous copulation, the silky feel of soaking vagina upon his erection and Milka's abandon not to come himself. Chris Newman passed the point of no return, tried to hold himself back as the vagina slid up and down and then released, spurt after spurt travelling up and out of his knob into the girl. So good, so good.

Another copulation completed. Redressed and with Milka in the lead, her skirt swishing, they descended the stairs. Below Toma looked up, his face expressionless. He said not a word as Chris said goodbye as he stepped through the counter hatch and towards the door. He had turned half-way to the door and saw Milka's flushed face all smiles as she called, 'have a nice day.' Well, he had already! Toma on the other hand just stared. Was he feeling a little shocked from what he had seen, not simply knowing what was happening upstairs with his wife but now having seen it? Was he thinking about Milka's white knickers, so jealous that it was Chris' semen that would be dripping down into those knickers and not his own? Knowing that whilst he had taken them from Milka, no doubt pushed his sheathed penis past the gusset, perhaps even spanked her in those knickers -- lowered or un-lowered - his semen had never dripped into them. They had never needed a wash because of him. It was very difficult to know Toma's thoughts. Post orgasm Chris could not help feeling bad about it; bad about cuckolding Toma; yet, he was so enjoying his liaisons with the lovely, oversexed Milka. He could hardly stop; could not stop himself unless Toma put his foot down; put Milka over his knee, pulled her white knickers down, and said, 'no more.'

Chris did not work Saturdays; had no need to come into Soho yet he was so tempted to have a cappuccino; so tempted to visit the café and, most especially, see Milka and 'help Toma out.' Did Toma really want the help?

Chris resisted and certainly when he almost skipped -- but middle-aged men, just the wrong side of fifty, do not do that -- towards the café mid Monday morning, he was very much in that mood for 'helping.' Toma looked tired, there were bags under his eyes. Was it Milka being too demanding or was the thought of another man lying with his wife becoming too much? Sleepless nights beside Milka. Sleepless nights of worry or perhaps even being made the more tired by being woken in the middle of the night by a soft, wet mouth upon his penis, encouraging it into life and to fuck her? Packets of Durex in the drawer by the bed.

The doorbell dinged and there she was, the young girl Chris had been thinking about all weekend. The young woman he had a crush upon. Lovely Milka, all smiles and pigtails and behind her Toma preparing salad.

"Good morning, Milka, Toma -- and it is a good morning. The sun is bright and the sky clear." Cheery and jolly. Chris hoped it struck the right tone with Toma. He did get a reply, even from Toma. Not a very full or enthusiastic reply but a reply nonetheless. Good to sit in his window seat at the metal and marble table Chris preferred and drink his cappuccino, enjoying the froth and sprinkled chocolate. No sign, though, that he was to be invited upstairs. He waited even after he had finished his drink and then slowly and a little disappointedly took his cup back up to the counter. Toma had just been serving a customer and he took the cup; behind him Milka was working, her back to them.

"She says you are to go upstairs." Toma lifted the hatch.

Sudden excitement for Chris but very difficult in a way to walk through the hatch with Toma looking at him.

"Thanks," what else to say? He climbed the stairs. Looking back Toma was looking up at him but Milka was still busy. He closed the door and wondered what he was meant to do. Get undressed; wait for Milka naked -- but what if Milka was not really going to come and instead it was Toma come to 'deal with him' -- what indeed?

In the end he walked through into the bedroom and stood looking at the office workers opposite. One girl caught his eye and it was pleasing to follow her movements as she walked around talking. He could not see if she had black tights on under her black skirt as his angle did not permit him to see so low into the office, but he rather thought she would have. A crisp white blouse with proper collar. A woman's shirt -- he could see which side the buttons ran -- nicely pushed out at the front in a womanly way. Rather well pushed out in his opinion! A dark-haired girl, indeed, rather dark skinned as well. A pretty girl with a seemingly ready smile to her generous lips. Was she perhaps the manager? Her hand rested upon the shoulder of one girl she was talking to, the girl looking up at her. A hands-on manager! Some people were more touchy feely than others. Some people came closer when talking than others, some were ready to touch, not inappropriately but making contact in a friendly way. It was nice. Chris' manager was not like that.

Of course, being a man, his thoughts went to the dark girl's hand resting on rather more of the seated girl than mere friendliness. The thought of her hand slipping into the girl's blouse and closing over her breast; of the two slowly undressing each other and engaging in a sixty-nine fashion. Not in the office, of course, but somewhere private. But the manager woman was not being sexual. Her hand rested upon the next person she spoke to, an older man. Of course, Chris thought, it might well be that that man would like her hand to rest upon rather more than his shoulder. For her hand to encourage his penis into erection, for her dark fingers to curl around it and exercise it and draw the semen up and out or perhaps take it between her soft and full lips and massage it to a spurting. How good to have a 'hands on' young female manager who did that!

Chris was strongly erect with his thoughts when he heard a noise behind him. Milka not Toma. He had not heard her coming up the stairs. She was in jeans but already her top and brassiere had been dispensed with. Like on the Friday she was naked from the waist up, though the jeans were not quite like the stockings and knickers.

"You no undress?"

Chris did not like to say he had been worried Toma might have come up instead of Milka. She watched as he undressed, her smile widening when she saw him ready tumescent.

"Men," she said, "I like men." She stepped forward, reached and held him. Her fingers closing around his erection, pulling the skin slowly downwards, exposing his knob. "Milka needs a fuck. A proper fuck. You give?"

Chris smiled, "I give," he said and kissed her as he reached for the brass button of her jeans. A long time since he had undone the button of a girl's jeans and lowered the brass zip. A long time since he had placed his hand in an opened fly and let his fingers slip under the waistband of a girl's knickers and felt the soft, springy hair. How wet already was Milka, he wondered. Sliding his fingers downwards, he felt her pubic bone under her skin as his forefinger sought her divide. He followed it and soon his whole hand was cupping her sex, warm and hairy in the palm of his hand within the confines of the cotton knickers and blue resisting denim. There was wetness to his palm. What a lovely thing to be doing.

To be fucked, jeans needed to come off or at least be lowered. For a time Chris fingered but then they came off. Lovely to watch; lovely to see Milka hop up onto the bed and wait cat like on all fours, even waggling her behind in very much a come-hither way.

"You want suck first?"

Men always like a suck first (or second or third for that matter). Milka scooted around as Chris stood there with his erection presented and watched the girl take his knob between her lips. As good to see as to feel, really, his cock in the young woman's mouth. She was good -- no doubt a lot of practice had helped.

"Nows we fucks." Once more the bottom presented, once again it was waggled as Chris got up onto the bed behind her.

So good to cuddle up to her from behind, his cock sliding into the special valley between her legs -- the wet, warm, mossy valley. It was always fascinating to Chris how a woman can arch her rear end in that special way and allow the cock to find the entrance to her body with such seeming ease. But, of course, she would know her body, would have a very good idea about where everything about her body was -- would feel the cock and know how to ease or wriggle it into where she wanted it to be. As men down the centuries must have wondered -- what did it feel like to have a stiff prick sliding into your wet channel, right up into your body?

Slow gentle fucking, steady movement, Chris pushing forward as Milka pushed backwards. Two people on top of a bed copulating.

Chris had not heard but Toma had come upstairs again. All at once there he was, in the doorway just standing and looking. Certainly, there was no question of what Milka and he were doing. It was not even under the sheets, rather on the top in broad daylight. Milka on all fours and Chris taking her from the rear -- doggy style or in the way of the animals. Naked people copulating. Chris eyes widened. What should he do? Should he stop, should he stand aside and let Milka's husband get his cock out, put on a condom and take over? What was he meant to do? He stopped moving.

"Out," Toma said walking forward into the room.

Chris knew what he meant. It was obvious. Sheathed within Milka he felt not completely exposed but now withdrawing he, for the first time in his life, was revealing his erection to another man. Not just revealing it but showing it all wet and rather streaked with Milka's copious lubrication. Chris hurried to get off the bed and stood feeling -- well, nervous and embarrassed. What else would he feel? Caught in flagrante delicto, almost -- though there by permission. Was he going to be ordered out; was he about to be punched; had it all got too much for Toma? To make matters worse he felt it, a creeping feeling up his urethra and he knew just what that would be. Toma was looking at him, looking down at his erection and Chris saw a wrinkling of his upper lip, a look of distaste or perhaps contempt. Chris knew a little of his semen had pre-ejaculated, had risen up his urethra and appeared as a translucent, creamy blob at the top of his knob. He did not want to look but knew it would be there if he did look down. And then he felt it run, a trickle down his knob, perhaps a drip to the floor, perhaps for it to hang by a thread of semen.

"Is that all you can do? Not very big are you?"

It would be so bad for Toma. Not just to see the copulation, not just to see the other man's erection pulled from his wife but to see such a very visible demonstration of what Chris could do and he must not -- allow his semen to enter Milka, be deposited either a little like that or in quantity.

All at once Toma was undoing his trousers, in a rather bravado way, undoing his belt, reaching in and bringing out his own organ. Not floppy, not at all, anything but; supported by his underpants under his balls it stood right up in the air, fully erect and an erection very clearly larger than Chris' penis. It puzzled Chris as much as it rather shocked him to see it -- another man's penis erect. He would have thought Toma would have been anything but erect and aroused by what he was seeing. Were his thoughts not merely those of sadness, shame or even anger but something else? Surely it did not arouse him to see his wife being taken by another man?

"Toma have large cock, Chris. He big man. Mmmm, two cocks for Milka!" The excitement in her eyes and on her face evident. Two men suddenly there for her at once.

Toma reached and grabbed his wife by the hips and pulled her around so her bottom was facing him.

"No Toma, not without roobber!"

But already Tom's unsheathed penis had entered. Wet as she always seemed to be -- remarkably wet -- and with vagina ready opened by Chris, Toma slipped easily in, right in, balls deep, his long cock disappearing up into her body. As far as Chris knew, Toma's first ever naked penetration by his unsheathed cock into his wife.