Distractions

I frequent coffee shops. The boosts of caffeine and ambient coffeehouse vibes provide a stimulating environment for writing. A local spot operated by a nondenominational church is especially cozy.

But there are distractions.

As I write this, out of the corner of my eye I spy a tall redhead whose lithe figure isn’t obscured by her tight white sweater and miniskirt. (And the erotically charged clicks of her black fuck-me boots accentuate her appeal.) She’s certainly making it difficult for me to progress on my review of a book on capital punishment and the Catholic moral tradition. Or the tall brunette in black leggings who vaguely resembles a young Liv Tyler.

I reside in an area that’s populated by college girls. These nubile creatures frequently appear at Starbucks, attired in short skirts and yoga pants revealing shapely legs, stoking my curiosity about what those skirts and pants conceal.

Then there are the scrumptious baristas — right now, I’m surreptitiously gazing at a shapely, busty lass behind the counter who looks like a brunette version of Kaley Cuoco. Then there’s the tall and slender blonde, her golden hair tied in a ponytail, tight leggings hugging the contours of her legs; the pixie with short black hair who can’t possibly be as innocent as she seems; the pretty Black girl in glasses who never fails to reveal a bit of cleavage. And “Ashley,” who has engaged me in brief conversations about Henri Nouwen. Her lovely long brown tresses and sizable bosom triggered thoughts of a not-so spiritual nature.

I once again espied her behind the counter. I’d had my eyes on this barista for a while, undressing her in my imagination – her naked curvy physique stimulating my arousal. This morning her black sweater couldn’t conceal her round breasts (D cups to be sure). Her long dark brown hair draped a face with doe eyes.

But I wanted more.…

Spiriting her to the storage room, she pulls her skirt up and her panties down, then positions herself facing the wall, her luscious ass extended toward me. I move behind her. My pants fall down. No words are exchanged. No gestures of affection. I give her bare bottom a hard smack, then guide the head of my cock into her wet pussy. She gasps as she’s penetrated. I whisper in her ear, telling her what a dirty slut she is. I thrust harder, smacking my pelvis into her round ass. She gasps again with each hard thrust of my cock.

“Oh, God!”