Boostore Cafe

Fiona rolled her eyes. "Are we really doing this again?"

"This time it's for the competition," I said. "I missed it last year."

"Are we actually going to do anything this time? Last time we just sat around drinking coffee."

I pouted. "I thought that was fun."

"You didn't have to read it..." Fiona laughed at my sour expression. "I mean, look, we're what, sixty-five words in? And nothing's happened."

"Fine," I muttered. I was saved from endless tedium by the cock that thrust through the wall. "See - at least this time we're having coffee in an adult bookstore. You wanna suck it, or shall I?"

"I like my coffee black."

"Hah!" Still, her loss, my gain. I swivelled in my seat, bringing me head to head with the cock. It was brown. Indian at a guess. Decent length. The eye was glistening with precum that I licked away as I kissed the soft flesh. "Mmm..." I said.

"So, is there actually a man attached to that cock?" Fiona drawled. "Or is it a MacGuffin?"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure he's not Scottish." I wrapped my lips about the head and sucked, peeking at Fiona out the corner of my eye. I just love having a cock in my mouth. I love the taste, the texture, the tantalising power. "Besides," I murmured, "It's more of a Chekhov's gun thing."

She laughed. "Indeed." She sipped her fair-trade Columbian filter coffee as she watched me work the cock, my head bobbing back and forth, my lips firmly ringed about the shaft, my tongue teasing that sensitive spot beneath the head. "I'm bored," she announced suddenly, and clicked her fingers like a stage magician.

The door to the café slammed open and two men in white overalls barged in, pushing a trolley. They were built like bouncers, their expressions similarly forbidding, and marched straight towards me.

"Um...?" I said.

"Best not resist," one said, his voice like gravel. Two muscular hands grabbed my arms and lifted me. Two more hands started wrestling my clothes from me. "What the fuck!" I screamed.

"Relax," Fiona said. "It's just a story."

"Doesn't feel like a fucking story," I muttered as I lost the battle to keep my top on. My bra followed swiftly, the nursing pads tumbling to the floor.

Fiona's eyes widened as she stared at my bruised and swollen nipples. "Are those... bite marks?"

"The joys of motherhood. Oh no!" One man had positioned the trolley in front of me, the other was pushing me down onto it, lining my breasts up with a pair of suction cups and strapping me firmly into place. Somewhere beneath me a mechanism hummed with life and suction deformed my breasts within the cups. It felt like my nipples were being tugged on, an intense sensation that was both pain and pleasure.

It was almost enough to distract me from the men stripping me of my skirt and discovering my lack of underwear. They chuckled quietly, and I flinched helplessly within the restraints as a heavy hand smacked me. A thick, rough-skinned finger pushed clumsily between my thighs, seeking my pussy. "Yep, the slut's ready."

Fiona meanwhile was watching me with an expression of idle amusement. With one hand she stroked a thick cock that had emerged from the gloryhole next to her. "Chekhov's gun, Ali," she said, pointing to the one I had been forced to abandon. A brown cock that was carefully lined up with my pussy as the two men shoved the trolley up against the wall.

A brown cock that was gradually swallowed by my vagina as I was sandwiched between trolley and wall. I had loved it in my mouth. I loved it too in my cunt, its tentative explorations becoming savage thrusts, ramming into me with wild abandon. I was nothing to this man but a horny cunt; he was nothing to me but a hard cock. It was sweet perfection.

The suction on my breasts built until the milk flowed. I moaned with relief that gave way to a snarl of lust. Fiona laughed. "Isn't this much better than just talking?"

"Infinitely," I agreed. "How are we doing?"

"Just another fifty."

Not enough. I needed a hundred. A thousand. I tried to encourage the cock in my cunt using my vaginal muscles. "Come for me, MacGuffin!" I cried. And he did, thrusting deep and erupting within, his convulsing member tickling my insides wonderfully.

I grinned. "I really hope there's a sequel..."