(Dear Gentle Lit Readers:
As is usually the case, a story is more than just the fantasy of the writer. Thanks as always to Availableslave4u for checking it out and editing it. This story is based on My Barista which was one of the first series of stories I wrote and submitted to Lit. This is not a quick wank story, so unless you like a ton of background, readers eager to cum may want to pass initially.)
It had been a while since I lost the two loves of my life. Since the last time I had portrayed my life in story, I lost both my wife and my favorite barista. Losing my wife was bad enough since it was a drunk driver that took her life as we drove home from a date. I won't get into the details, but she died way too early in life and in a senseless painful way. For the longest time before my barista became involved, my wife and I had a dismal sex life and the woman who served me coffee helped awake a passion unmatched since the first few years my wife and I were together. A drunken teenager without a license or insurance took her away from me. He was found guilty and is still in jail. This is a good thing for him since I don't know if I could restrain myself from killing him if he wasn't behind bars.
During the following months, Cathy helped me work through the grief and pain at the risk of her own marriage. It was a sham of a marriage to begin with since her husband wasn't the Prince Charming he shown himself to be the last weekend all four of us were together. It came to a head three months later when he made Cathy choose between us. When she turned for a moment to think, he pulled out a revolver and shot three times destroying the one good thing I had left in this world before putting the gun to his own temple. I agreed to take on the burden of burying her from her parents who knew of me only as her friend.
The funeral for Cathy was just as devastating as the funeral for my wife because I realized that I loved Cathy as much as my wife. It was then my life became a devastating spiral and I started spending more time at grungy bars than at home. I moved out of my house into a small apartment before I came to my senses and took steps to bring myself back into the real world. I knew I had to live my life as completely as my two loves would want me to.
The first step of my recovery was sobering up. I spent a good few months detoxifying myself before I was able to return to work. My boss out of kindness talked me into becoming a salesman so I could spend time away from the town I lived in and the painful memories it held. The job itself was therapy and I could feel myself learning control of my emotions and finding forgiveness enough to go on. Yet every time I stroked myself to porn, it felt empty and unfulfilling.
I started trying out the dating websites in a furious attempt to find someone simply to fuck instead of a life partner. All the dates the various sites arranged for me turned into disasters so I gave up and decided to seek solace in my own spiritual well being. I began to spend some money on better clothes and taking care of myself just because I could feel my wife nagging me to do so. I even started going to the same gym she used to go to. The physical agony helped to guide my angst into a positive direction.
It was during one of these workouts that I overheard a few of the patrons talking about a new coffee shop that opened near the gym. I almost ignored it before I heard that the ladies served coffee in bikinis and various outfits to flaunt their bodies. Thinking that it would make great masturbation fodder for later, I purposed in my mind to go check it out after my swim.
The coffee shop wasn't an actual coffee shop, but more like a trailer just serving drive up customers. It was a white trailer not very large with windows on three sides. Cars would drive up to the side windows to be served by the attractive ladies. The men at the gym were not kidding about the outfits because the outfits really did flaunt the natural beauty those ladies had. My first day there was western themed and the buxom brunette wore a black bikini with a cow girl hat. Her breasts were barely contained in her top and her bottom was scarcely covered by her cut off jean shorts. I paid for my latte with a healthy five dollar tip before driving away with a huge grin on my face.
Between sales trips, this trailer was a daily stop to the point that the girls knew me well enough to make my coffee perfect before I could speak. I loved seeing the nineteen and twenty one year old bodies barely concealed in small pieces of fabric and sexy costumes. I started learning the girls' names and even started to notice little details about them beyond their jutting breasts.
It was during one of my trips that I noticed one of the girls was a little more pouty than usual. Since it seemed as if she was simply going through the motions and not being herself, I asked her if she was okay. She played off my sincere question like it was nothing as she made my coffee. As she handed it to me, I could see her eyes were a little tear laden. I asked her again if she was okay as I handed her one of my business cards to call me later that day if she wanted to talk. She gave me a small smile as she took the card and slid it into one of the cups of her bikini top before she stood back up and waved. It was a long shot giving her the card knowing that she probably was getting hit on by every horny guy that went through that drive through; however, the knowledge that I made an effort for the cutie felt warm inside of me and I figured the worse that could happen was she wouldn't call.
It was three hours later when my cell phone rang with a strange number. I flipped my phone open and after saying hello, I heard the sweet voice of that barista. She asked me if I could come pick her up from work because she didn't feel like driving home alone. I answered that I would be right there and grabbed my keys as I headed towards my car. In my mind, the intention was to be there for her and allow her the chance to vent before I took her home. Horniness was the last emotion I felt at that moment.
I arrived at the trailer fifteen minutes later to see the girl on the back step bundled in a jacket and crying. I pulled up and turned the car off. Before I could get out, she walked over to the car. Quickly I unlocked the car door before I jumped out to open the door for her. I let her sit down and cry for a few moments before I reached into the glove box for the tissues I kept there. As I handed her the box, she looked at me with mascara running down her cheeks. It was then she revealed the source of her sadness.
It turned out that the beautiful woman in my passenger seat and I was connected by my love Cathy. The girl sitting there was Cathy's younger sister Charlene. The fact that I didn't see the resemblance was pure stupidity on my part. Looking at her at that moment, I could see their similarities. The reason she was so sad that day was that it was the anniversary of Cathy's death. She began talking about how hard it was that day to work because she was consumed with thoughts of Cathy and how she was filled with grief. She said how it was comforting to see me that day among other days. She then leaned into me and allowed me to hold her a bit before she started telling me how to get to her house.
At her house was her mother and father were surprised to see me. They were shocked to find that I drove their daughter home. They were confused as to what was going on. As their daughter explained what happened, I began to excuse myself before Cathy's mother invited me to stay for dinner. As Charlene walked upstairs to clean up, Cathy's father asked me how I was. I told him the truth about how numb I felt about the whole thing. He seemed to understand and stopped asking questions before Cathy's sister came back downstairs in sweat pants and a pink T-shirt.
It was a quiet dinner of roast chicken and we talked about many different topics before Cathy's sister asked me if I could take her back to get her car. I hesitated to answer before her dad said that I should to ensure she made it home safely. She grabbed her jacket and was at the door before I could excuse myself. Cathy's parents waved good bye to me as I followed her to my car. When we got there, she slid into the passenger seat as I sat down at my spot. We started driving before she asked a very loaded question.
"Do you miss fucking my sister?"
I stopped the car before looking at her. Her face showed no sign of humor as she repeated the question.
"Do you miss fucking my sister?" she repeated.
I turned towards her before responding.
