Hannah's Diary - Happy Monday

Note: These stories are set in a strange parallel universe, separate from our own, where people can fuck a lot more freely, are subject to judgement almost rarely (usually only consensually) and generally people in this universe pursue their sexual pleasures as and when they want with absolutely zero consequences (i.e, STD's, horrible people with shitty opinions, etc) and as such, you should take a lot of themes here with a pinch of salt and definitely, definitely take a lot more care in real life than the characters do here in these stories.

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Monday // 7am

Owen is in the shower. We both fell right asleep after the debauchery of the night before, and I'm watching the sheet door of the shower steam up while he washes himself.

In front of the mirror, I receive a text from Michael. I feel like my slutty misdemeanours must be on his mind because the poor guy has left me about 3 text messages in the time between this morning and last night. I don't really want to reply to anything, so I send him a selfie of my tits and put my phone away.

I open the shower door.

"Hey stranger!" I yell out. Owen jumps out of his skin.

"Jesus... how long have you been there for?!"

"Long enough. Budge up."

I bully him out of the way and begin to wash myself, making sure the hot stream of water cascades down me. And my tits. I know exactly what I'm doing.

"You look beautiful" he says

I gasp out and kiss him

"You charmer" I say, slinking down to my knees. Yes, it really is that quick. I really firmly believe, if you feel safe with someone, and they are kind, they deserve to be fucked.

"Oh... oh no. Stop it. I... don't have time!" He's completely helpless AND terrible at stopping me when I'm like this. I swirl my tongue around his cock and make his tip dance over my lips.

"Fuck... please, I'll be late"

"I sent Michael a picture of my tits, by the way" I'm ever so nonchalant about this, timing it precisely to the moment I decide to finally slide all of him into the back of my throat. His cock starts to stiffen within seconds.

"You liked him, didn't you?"

"Yeah" I say, letting Owen's cock slide out of my mouth, so I can answer, "Do you want me to fuck him again?" I take him into my mouth again while he thinks about his answer.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. Is that bad?"

"No." I say, "Not at all. And you know it's not."

"Fuck..." He starts to gently fuck my mouth. "What do you want him to do to you?

"Anything he wants." I'm dead serious, too.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Owen's cock trembles and twitches hard. He cums in my mouth.

Still Monday // 10am.

I pulled a sicky. After the night... and morning... I've had, I really felt very strongly about not going to work today.

I've whisked myself away to a coffee shop - my body swirls just like the coffee that's been placed in front of me, that I have my spoon in gently whirling the black around the cup.

"We ran out of the croissants I'm afraid" the guy behind the kiosk was standing there, and I didn't even realise.

"Oh, that's okay"

"Would you like anything else?" he sounded surprised - how can anyone accept such news with any grace or decorum, you actually have to be morally upset. I ponder my reply for a second.

"Hmm, maybe. Do you have those little swirly things with the icing on?"

He giggles, "you mean a Belgian bun?"

"Oh yes, one of those. Absolutely love those Belgians."

He straightens up and takes my other empty cup

"I bet you do."

He walks away.

What a cheeky bastard. Is that flirting? Or does he know... what I am? And how that sort of thing would definitely work on me? Unbelievable display, there and I have to admit, very impressive too.

I text Owen: "Can I fuck the coffee guy? Just checking"

Later // 10:30am

I'm on my knees in a supply cupboard at the back of the coffee shop.

Coffee guy fumbles with the lock on the door until it clangs shut and takes a good thick handful of my hair and guides his cock into my open mouth. Obviously, I'm a good girl and facilitate his appendage by allowing it to hit right at the back of my throat, stopping short before I gag. He's definitely not shy, though, he immediately follows up with another quick thrust, just enough to make my head bounce back - a natural reaction, to be honest, to adjust for not gagging. He makes a few micro adjustments to his rhythm, but within no time at all my head is bouncing off his cock with a steady rhythm.

With my saliva lathering up his cock, his grip around my hair starts to tighten up like a coiled spring, occasionally stifling the odd swearword so that his colleagues can't hear him. It's a pretty poor effort, though, to be honest: feet shuffle back and forth outside the door, and I'm unsure if they're his co-workers or the other customers. Above the sound of me gagging and drooling, I think I can hear murmuring and voices, but I can't actually be sure. The reality is, my sole focus is on expertly taking this dick. In the heat of the moment I feel like I'm "trying" to be quiet, all things considered, but I'll have you know that some things simply aren't possible, and having your mouth fucked in silence is probably one of those things.

Despite his stunning, and frankly impressive, attempt at keeping quiet, I can tell that his steely resolve is beginning to crack. He's swearing now, the words escaping through gritted teeth and heavy breathing. Just as I think he's about to buckle beneath the pressure, his arms begin to loosen up. He tugs at the back of my head, separating my lips from his cock. Strings of saliva stretch back to the tip of his penis before breaking apart over me.

I stand up after he beckons me. Yes, sir, I will. No words needed. He backs up against the door and grabs at my waist, his fingers wrap around my sides and press into my soft skin. I turn around as he starts pulling and tugging me, causing me to slide down him, feeling every single inch. It's an incredible feeling, having someone brand new and exciting fill you up, so incredible actually that a desperate moan escaped my mouth.

It's not clear at this point if our mystery guests outside are still there or not. I don't think there's been any movement? And they're definitely keeping quiet. Or maybe they moved away. Coffee guy's thick cock helps me to forget. Having felt it rest deep inside me brings me this cleansing wave of joy. Sheer pleasure in the eye of a storm, the silence broken by faint whispers. I can't focus on them. It's impossible to focus on them. "I think he's fucking that girl" - did I hear that right? I don't know.

Not important right now. Have to focus. My arms press against the shelves in front of me in order to desperately gain some leverage. He helps, obviously, because he's pushing and pulling my waist on him like it's a tool, an implement, an object he might use to shoot his cum into. Things on the shelves begin to tumble to the floor, making a clattering racket around us, and the sound of skin hitting skin inside this tight room is beginning to sound like the crack of a whip.

"Mmmffm..." I'm really trying to be quiet, I promise. I'm biting my lip. "Mmmfuck".

My legs start to shake again, just as they did this morning when I was bouncing on Owen, and once again a wave pulsates through me. At this point, I'm turning the air blue with swears. Coffee guy wraps his hand around my mouth and I scream into it, muffling it just in time.

I shiver as my orgasm swallows me whole.

I take a second to compose myself, but I'm eager to pull myself up and off his dick. Did he even cum? I was too busy to notice, honestly. Did you cum? I ask her him. He was still almost totally silent and without saying a word, his hand sneaks between my legs where he buries his fingers inside me, almost spreading me open so he can see properly - I feel a dribble of his cum slowly seep out of me. Well, I guess that answers that question.

I gather myself together in the toilet just next door and head out to the café to leave.

"Was she good?" his female colleague is obviously fascinated by what transpired. They both have no idea I could hear them.

"Really tight pussy."

"Fuck, really?" she's genuinely excited by this. Is this the most interesting thing that's happened here? Possibly

"Thank you for the coffee" I say, passing him as I leave. I even waved at his colleague, who looked like she was about to choke.

"Don't mention it."

He's reserved, smiling and polite. We don't acknowledge anything. In fact, for a second I wonder if he even registers it at all, or if he's done this so much that it's just normal to him. For a second, I wonder, how many girls he takes in there and fuck? What about his colleague? Does she fuck him too?

My eyes meet his across the café and I swear I can see the faintest glimmer deep in there - a sparkle that betrays his facade, and it's obvious, only to me and him and no one else, that we can do this any time. I just need to ask.

"Come back soon" he says

I think I definitely will.