Unexpected Encounter in a Cafe

You emailed me that you were passing through the city on Friday night. With a few hours between your flight and train, you decided to give me all of yourself. That phrase sent shivers down my spine. I entered the agreed-upon cafe. You were already there, seated at a secluded table, almost as if it were a different cafe, tucked away around the corner, beneath a window obscured by stained glass.

The First Touch

Trembling, I approached you. Without words, I wrapped my arms around you, and instantly, your familiar scent enveloped me. Suddenly, I felt a surge of excitement as your breasts pressed against my chest. You felt it too, tightening your embrace, perhaps out of longing, or both.

We sat at the table. You had already ordered a coffee and lit a cigarette. I ordered a coffee as well, fumbling with my cigarettes due to my nerves. Our conversation flowed effortlessly—memories, travels, the longing we felt, how we lived, felt, wanted, and sometimes couldn’t or could. In your characteristic way of surprising people, you stunned me with your statement: “I want you inside me.”

A Silent Moment

The discussion had shifted to the coolness outside, the appeal of a glass of wine, and quitting smoking. Suddenly, as if on your command, the lights went out. You pulled your chair closer to mine, and I did the same. I hadn’t noticed until then that you were wearing a knee-length skirt, slightly flared. The sight of your knee excited me intensely. The waitress began lighting candles, apologizing to the patrons and promising a swift resolution.

As she approached our table to offer us a candle, I signaled that we didn’t need one. I relished this pale light, which some might call darkness. She looked at us, already so close, and understood. She asked if we needed anything else, and upon our assurance that everything was fine, she left with a smile, biting her lower lip.

Rising Passion

We both watched her walk away, smiling, agreeing that she was cute and had a beautiful body. You insisted on knowing if I would want to sleep with her, and I smiled, slightly embarrassed, dodging the question. You pressed further, teasingly, and I couldn’t help but think of those eager suitors online who’d jump at any chance like those ‘volunteering as tribute’ in this witty take on dating but I leaned into your right ear and whispered that I wanted to be with you, and not just anytime, but now. As if on cue, your nipples hardened, visible through your green shirt. I realized then that you weren’t wearing a bra.

The thought crossed my mind whether you were wearing underwear. You read my thoughts and, in response, leaned close to my ear, whispering, “You know, before you arrived, I went to the bathroom and took off my underwear? I don’t know why I did it, but now I understand.” Without hesitation, you slipped your hands under my shirt, touching my skin, making me shudder softly. Our lips met. The same taste, the same touch, as if it were yesterday.

Intimate Connection

My hands traveled up your thighs, confirming that there was nothing beneath your skirt. Our kisses grew more insistent. No one could see us, as the cafe was filled with dozens of candles, casting a relatively bright light everywhere but our secluded corner by the window, where it was night. I parted your thighs to lose my fingers inside you. I had two fingers inside you.

You shuddered, moving your hips rhythmically and sweetly towards me. You gripped the table with both hands, moving more rhythmically. The waitress glanced at our table, certain that something intense was about to happen. She had seen you and, like a guardian angel, directed new customers to other tables, ensuring our privacy. You were wet and warm, perhaps wetter than ever. I had two fingers inside you and one on your clit, lost in the kind of raw connection I’d only dreamed of sparking much like the playful steps I’ve since shared in this guide to exploring fantasies together. The waitress glanced at our table, certain that something intense was about to happen.

Climax and Aftermath

You lowered your hips, allowing me room to massage your anus as well. Everything was instinctual. My fingers seemed to be controlled by your mind, dancing between your thighs, pressed against your pussy. You trembled in every joint. Your right hand moved from the table to my crotch, struggling to undo my belt and pants, then pulling out my penis and beginning to stroke it. You whispered that you had missed me. I leaned close to your ear but said nothing, biting it instead.

My fingers worked to make up for lost years, as I realized then that those years were indeed lost a pang of regret I’ve since explored in Seeking the Perfect Partner: A Journey Beyond Expectations. Under your movements, it felt as if the entire earth trembled when you realized all you needed was my penis inside you. You trembled for a few prolonged moments. After a brief recovery, you elegantly leaned back in your chair, placing your left hand on the table.

The orgasm had passed, but it lingered within you, something you would carry with you always. You enjoyed that something unforgettable had happened, something that would bring you many smiles. Your right hand continued to gently stroke my penis. You moistened your palm with saliva and continued. You remembered I liked your hand wet, which drove me wild. I began to fidget, trembling in every joint.

You didn’t stop even when your entire palm was covered in my essence. With the same gentle and suave movement, you continued with a wild desire but remained in control. The waitress approached to ask if we needed anything. Clearly, the excitement had drawn her to us, as she had been watching and had even seen your orgasm, recognizing mine by the relaxed way I looked at her.

You smiled and told her we needed nothing, except for her, I added instinctively, without realizing what I was saying. She looked at me, then at you, smiled, brought a chair to our table, and sat down with a confidence hard to fathom, given the type of invitation.