Blowjobs and Coffee

Blowjobs and coffee-for the past five years that was how every Sunday had started. I sat across the table with my mocha listening to Katie describe, in detail, her adventures from the previous two nights. The slight throbbing between my legs made it a little difficult to differentiate between Friday night's quickie with the guy at the bookstore and Saturday's fling with the bartender.

"So how about you and Dick?" asked Katie after leaving me, yet again, questioning my own distinctly unadventurous existence.

As we made our way toward the exit I thought back to the day before, picturing the two of us at Applebee's—me with the strongest drink I could convince them to serve me, him sipping a diet coke with that self-righteous look he always got when he made sure everyone knew he never drank alcohol.

"Oh...we just had a pretty quiet night."

Katie just looked at me sympathetically; trying not to ask, yet again, why I had gotten engaged to a man whose idea of a good time was leaving the lights on when we had sex. I tried not to let her see the jealousy on my face as I defended my fiance's well-meaning, if uninspired, advances. Katie gave me a sympathetic smile and a hug before getting into her car to set off on what was sure to be another day filled with wanton abandon and multiple orgasms.

I walked into our apartment fully intending to make use of the tingly feeling Katie's stories always gave me. I sauntered over to the armchair with my sexiest expression and leaned provocatively toward Dick. Tearing his eyes from an old 'Behind the Music', he asked, "Did you hurt your leg or something?" Not to be defeated, I trailed a finger down his stomach to the waistband of his jeans. Scanning his face and the front of his pants for any sort of reaction left me disappointed on both fronts.

"Do you want to have sex?" he asked with his eyes again glued to the TV.

I kissed his neck, murmuring my assent. He turned the TV off and walked toward the bedroom. As I entered behind him he had begun untying his shoes before placing them neatly in the closet. I sat next to him and started gently rubbing the bulge beneath his zipper.

"Do you want to take a shower first, or should I?" he said matter-of-factly.

After a thorough washing, I returned to the bedroom to find him already naked and lying beneath the comforter. I slid between the covers and moved up against him. Dick immediately pushed my hand toward his half erect penis while he pawed at my breast. After about 2 minutes of fondling, he slipped one finger inside me and wiggled it for about 30 seconds before climbing on top of me and shoving his lackluster namesake into my pussy. He pumped away for a couple of minutes, grunting and breathing right into my ear, then stiffened briefly before rolling off of me.

And so it was over. I don't ask for a lot, but would it kill him try going down on me? In the three years of our relationship I had never felt his tongue anywhere but my mouth. I was left with fantasies of a hot mouth on my cunt, teeth grazing my clit. I don't think Dick knows what a clit is.

Trying to muster a false sense of enthusiasm for the preceding moments of 'passion', I heard my phone go off next to the bed. I reached into the pocket of my jeans feeling more excited about the phone call than the man next to me. It was difficult to make out any words through the sobbing on the other end, but eventually I understood that Katie, my loveable,exhibitionist, hyper-sexual best friend, was gone.

After the service one of Katie's many male admirers came to offer his condolences.He was pulling me toward him for a reassuring embrace while I thought about how his lips would feel on my naked body. I was briefly scandalized by the thought before rationalizing that Katie would understand, even approve, of the thoughts flitting through my sex-starved brain.

Soon enough it was back to work, picking up after snotty sixteen-year-olds who were too cool to put back the 17 pairs of jeans they had tried on but not purchased. I was fantasizing about walking out on my shift when I heard a deep, decidedly male voice, from behind me.

"Excuse me? Do you know where the Pottery Barn is?"

I turned around to find the most awe-inspiring man I had ever seen. From his perfectly tousled hair to his muscular legs he was a fantasy brought to life. I was mentally dragging him into a dressing room where he was ravishing me like a savage. I was trying not to be distracted by the increasing wetness in my panties when I realized I had never answered him.

Minutes later I found myself backed up to the wall of the dressing room with Mr. Pottery Barn crushed up against me. I was questioning my judgment when I felt his teeth graze my erect nipple. I hesitated briefly before reaching toward his jeans. Then, very deliberately, I reached to unbuckle his belt. The zipper was already bulging and took only a moment to push down and free his impressive erection. I couldn't spend time admiring it when all I wanted to do was put my mouth around it.

I pushed him down onto that little bench no one uses and sank to my knees in front of him. Holding back, I gently licked up the whole length of his cock, pausing at the top to flick my tongue over the head. A quiet moan escaped his lips and I was done being patient. I opened my lips and took him into my mouth. It took a couple of tries to go all the way down, but I got it all. As he slid in and out of my mouth I couldn't help but feel myself start to throb. I reached down between my legs and uttered a gasp as I discovered how wet and swollen I was. That was all the encouragement he needed to pull me up onto his lap. I had a few seconds to think about using a condom before he thrust himself all the way into my waiting pussy.

At that moment I had a quick, but annoying, twinge at the edge of my consciousness. What the hell was I thinking? With no warning, no explanation I pushed up and hurriedly pulled my skirt back into place as I ran out of the dressing room. Muttering to my oblivious coworker about a lunch break I fled out into the mall and into the nearest ladies room. I took a minute to catch my breath and waited long enough to be sure he had left the store.

On the ride home that night I couldn't stop feeling guilty about what I had done. I opened the front door and was not lucky enough to make it to the shower before Dick noticed I was home.

"Hey, babe! How was work?" he called from the living room.

"Uh, not bad," (hoping he wouldn't notice the trembling in my voice).

"I already took a shower, if you want to jump in," he responded.

With relief I did just that, irrationally hoping that the inevitable sex to come would somehow erase my earlier activities. With a guilty feeling, I knew he would never suspect that another man had been there just two hours before. I spent the entire four and a half minutes fantasizing about what would have happened if I hadn't run away.

Lying in the bed after my fiance fell asleep, I couldn't help thinking that he was not the only dick I wanted in my life.