Cafe Surprise Delight Ch. 02

I had enjoyed taking the lead the night of the party. I knew that this might not be how things would turn out going forward, if there was a forward, but it had been fun. I had to. These days, men were terrified of what might fail and, because he worked nearby and I was likely to see him again whatever happened, I knew I had to pretend to be in control.

I found him attractive. I knew I did. I had the very first time I saw him in the cafe. It was a great spot, always lively, always with a good vibe, fun colleagues, enjoyable customers. Not a job for life, but pretty good whilst I was trying to get my side hustle into my main hustle.

He was tall, he was healthy, he was clearly fit and he dressed well. Not a suit guy, but crisp in his casual work gear. He could make me laugh when we chatted, seemingly without trying and the alcohol and Christmas cheer had helped me take a chance. I wanted him but I didn't want to be seduced the old fashioned way. I fancied some good, rough sex and since his office was nearby, it added to the frisson.

I don't have a 'daddy' thing for older guys. Truth is, I'd never been with someone this old. Oddly enough, it didn't bother me, the salt and pepper beard, the greying hair on top, the crinkles around his eyes which showed how much he smiled. I'd also seen far worse bodies on younger men. The hipsters of my age were lovely and kind, tolerant and understanding, but generally weak as anything and utterly compliant. They rarely, if ever, went to the gym and although we could chat for hours with me never thinking them creepy or crude, well, they weren't the most alluring. I'd dated a couple and enjoyed the companionship. The sex had been fun but nothing to write home about. I'd also felt like I needed to find out more.

This one was a bit different. It was interesting to watch him as he moved across the streets near our cafe. He didn't seem to worry too much about other people's feelings becauseas he always seemed to have a direction to follow. When he chatted, there was little 'small' in the talk and much more clear structure. For some reason, I liked it. I also felt he would cut me off without even blinking and I would be none the wiser as to why.

He fucked well, that was for sure. Again, there was a directness, no chat about how much he fancied my body, no dirty talk, he just got on with tasting me (oh, he was good at that) and then putting me where he wanted me to fuck me. My spine has raw bits on it the next day from the table but I didn't care. It was what I found I wanted.

That's why I said I wanted to see him again.

I had found out at uni that I liked to fuck. Not complicated, not overly spicy or even desperately imaginative, just good, old fashioned fucking. Whether I was seeing them as a regular thing, a proper relationship or the occasional one-off, I found a good fuck an essential part of life.

I wanted to fuck him again. I wanted to find out if he could fuck me more than once, make it good and make me want to come back for more fucking. That was what tonight was about.

Meeting in a bar, I dressed to impress. Getting ready, I had taken time to wash, made sure there were no excess hairs, everything smooth that should be, all neat that shouldn't.

I don't have a lot of clothes but a few work well together. I like the feel of a short skirt on my thighs but also the sheer sensation of hold ups to complement it. I like simple underwear with a modicum of lace and I have a great, satin shirt which plunges and I have caught many a man staring at my cleavage.

High heels are a pain for distance but great for impressions. The choice was simple.

He was there before me and I saw him through the crowd. Still tall, still attractive, something relaxed and magnetic as well.

We had a drink, I can't remember what, something with alcohol and ice but as the bar filled up around us, it gave us a chance to move closer to each other to talk. Pretty soon I was pressing against him with every sentence I was talking into his ear and feeling the start of his erection grazing me.

Did I mention that he smelled nice? I don't like strong aftershave too much and the 'natural', read unwashed, smell of my hipster buddies could get eye watering for the wrong reasons. No, this one smelled clean and healthy, with a hint of that smell all man have when clothes come off.

He lived near the bar which wasno coincidence and I wanted to see how he lived. I wasn't looking for a long term thing, I just hadn't seen a man in his bracket - in his forties, clearly successful, no nonsense or fripperies. I was curious.

We were in a part of town that had been industrial and then the factories had either been knocked down or converted, both for flats. He told me on the way there that he'd bought a shell some twenty years ago with an inheritance and managed to develop it into flats, keeping one for himself. Red brick, industrial, steel fittings left to accentuate its history, this was a beautiful building from the outside, clearly having been given a new lease of life.

He waved a key fob against a sensor and pushed the top button . The stainless steel doors opened straight into his apartment. He had called it an apartment, I would call it the whole floor. He laughed when he saw my reaction and explained it had taken many years to finish, he just knew he wanted the space.

The lift was in a centre shaft and there was an iron grill facing it, coats hanging and the odd scarf for colder days. I shucked my jacket off and mindlessly threw it on a hook as I walked past. We were in a living area that took up pretty much the whole side of that apartment. It was staggering. Part sofa and television area, part boy's toys. There was a snooker table and an old pinball machine, even a gorgeous, classic motorbike, propped up on a stand near the lift. He assured me it worked but needed some love at the moment so he used his other one, a more modern and reliable model.

There was glass all the way along one wall, looking out over the roofs in the neighbourhood, with the office buildings if the city glinting in the distance. At one end there were large, wooden, sliding doors, clearly left over from the factory days. These had been partially glazed and I could see an outside space of some sorts through them.

He offered me a drink. We weren't there for drinks.

I smiled a bit and came to him. His chest was rising and falling, anticipation in his eyes but his jaw was set firm. He was waiting.

Our lips met. He was a good kisser. He reached up and held my head in his hands as he kissed me. We weren't kissing. He was kissing me.

It felt good. I pressed against his firm body. I could feel his cock through his pants. I wanted it but I knew we had time.

He dropped a hand to my ass, squeezed it, slid it down and held my upper thigh, his fingers under the crease of my ass. I felt myself getting wetter.

I broke off the kiss and placed my hands on his chest. Drawing my breath, I lowered myself to my knees, looking up at him. I remembered his cock. He wasn't a monster size, but he was tall and broad and everything was in proportion. It had a nice, big head as well, so you knew what was to come when it entered you.

I freed him from his pants. His cock was in front of my face and I lowered my mouth to him. The soft mushroom of its head slipped between my lips and I gently felt the ridge slide in. I pulled back and licked the length. I could smell his musk, I could feel his excitement.

I leant back and undid his pants fully. He kicked them off as I held his cock, playing with it in my hands, getting familiar to the shape, the ridges, the veins, the pulse I could feel. He was naked from the waist down.

I reached forward with one finger and scraped his balls with a nail. I felt them contract slightly and a small intake of breath from him. I knew what I wanted.

I lowered my head onto his stiff cock and felt it reach the back of my mouth. I wanted to relax, I wanted it to go further. I wanted this man to fuck my throat. Slowly I felt his cock enter my throat. He was restraining himself but a hand felt for the back of my head and exerted pressure. I sensed what he wanted.

Slowly pulling backward and pushing forward I relished him fucking my mouth, going deep and entering my throat. Saliva was flowing hard which helped, the tears in my eyes seemed normal and he was in control. I wasn't his bitch, I just knew this was what he would have.

After a few minutes of this he pulled back. I took a massive breath of air through my mouth. My nose had started to get blocked by the tear induced snot but I had made it this far.

He pulled me to my feet.

His eyes were cloudy with lust. He had taken his shirt off and he was naked, I was fully clothed.

He pushed my shirt off my shoulders and looked down as his hands reached for my breasts. I gasped as my nipples felt the strength of his hands through my bra, desperate to feel his skin, relishing the squeezing and tweaking. They ached for release, for the coolness of the air, for the warmth of his grip, for the graze of his attention.

My zip was no challenge for him, nor my bra and I stood before him, breathing heavily, knickers, hold ups and high heels all between him and me as I arrived on this earth. His eyes drank me in.

He pulled me to him, kissed me deeply. 

I could feel that magnificently strong cock pressing against my stomach. I wanted it inside but I felt he might make me wait.

He turned me around. I could see the lights of the city through that stupendous window, could feel the force of his cock against the crack of my ass. I ground back against it, wanting it, needing it.

He reached up with one hand and encased my breast, rolling the nipple between fingers. I arched my back, desperate to coax his cock nearer and I felt his other hand reach for my knickers, pulling them down over my ass. Using both hands, he pushed them over my thighs and I kicked them off.

Goosebumps emerged as I felt the coolness of the air as well as sheer excitement of what was to come.

He pushed me gently and I approached the window. Soon I was arms length away and he held my waist with one arm. The other steered a hand to the pane, then he arched me back so my ass was pointing hard at him.

I parted my legs to allow him access and felt his cock sliding down my ass crack. As it slid forward, I felt it graze my rosebud and inhaled sharply. He stopped pushing forward and reached for his cock. It was against me, held there with a slight push. I was ready but wanted to fuck more. He pushed slightly than pulled back. I felt a mix of disappointment and anticipation as his cock slid further along my crack.

I was more than ready for this. My lips were engorged, succulent with juices, ready for this cock to enter.

And it did.

I felt the walls of my pussy stretch open to accommodate him. Strong, pushing in, I felt myself fill up. In it slid, gliding without resistance into me, filling my soul.

I was standing against the window, back in an arc, his cock buried deep in me and I knew I was about to get fucked.

He pulled back until I felt the head almost pop out. Then he drove it in. I grunted.

He repeated. And repeated, He kept a steady pace, not speeding up, not slowing down, not altering his direction or motion. Just fucking me. Plain and simple.

I loved it.

I was starting to lose a grip on reality. This was a strong cock, driven by a powerful man, drilling in and out of me. At the same pace. All the time. In. Out. In. Out.

I was losing awareness of my surrounds. All I could concentrate on was this man, fucking me. Even that pretty soon became just his cock. I had been aware of hands on my hips, holding me. now both my hands against the window to push back, but pretty much all that I was currently aware of was this cock.

It was powering into my core. My very being was welcoming it, I could feel it. I could feel the heart of my soul opening up and welcoming this cock into me. My existence reached out to welcome it, to wrap it in me, to entrap it inside me as it drove relentlessly into me.


I felt my soul starting to spark inside, waves of warmth and rapture washing over me. It was growing, enveloping me, encasing me in tendrils, then arms then curtains of passion, building and glowing and racing and coursing through me.

It crashed over me, my whole body shuddering from the inside out, my being melding with the world, my soul with the universe. I was floating, sinking, falling and flying all at the same time. I had never felt anything like it.

I couldn't tell you how long this went on for but I became aware of first his warm hands on my hips. I realised he was still fucking me. Then the window, allowing me to push back against him, feeling his hips slam into my ass.

His breathing was rising, his pace still, almost unbelievably, the same. I could feel his crescendo rising, the urgency of his thrusts, the power in his drive. He pulled hard on my hips, drove his pelvis against my rear and emptied his seed.

I could feel the warmth of it, filling me. I couldn't count the number of spurts but it connected and tipped me over for a smaller, but equally intense, version of what had just transpired. He was cumming deep inside me and I was there to take it all.

He held me for a while, deep inside. I could feel sweat in the small of my back, hear his ragged breathing. Slowly he withdrew his softening cock. As it left me, I felt the first part of his cum leaving me, sliding, warm, down my inner thigh.

I turned to him and wrapped myself in his arms.

I liked fucking this man.