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Cobalt Blue

Sometimes I wish I'd kept track of just how many times I've been in my favorite coffee shop. Surely it was in the hundreds by now. Somehow they survived the invasion of chain coffee shops, probably because they always had some vegetarian food and fresh soup ready for the college kids.

It was an odd layout that only a small town without city planning can create. The coffee house itself was long and narrow and butted up against a beauty parlor. Then if you stepped out the back door, there was a patio and garden area about twice the size of the coffee shop.

We had our stream of regulars too. There was the eccentric older white man that had long white hair in dreadlocks. He was always feverishly writing in his journal in something that appeared to be code. He fills page after page. The only time he hasn't been in the coffee house when I was there was the night they closed for a holiday, and then I saw him at the local 24-hour greasy spoon by the freeway.

Then we have the Goth kids that used to hang out inside until the owner told them they had to be drinking one cup of coffee at least to take up table space, so now they hang out front instead trying to look ominous and depressed. They had taken to gathering there so often the local police had to put up anti-loitering signs.

Most of the other regulars were artists and poets and college students and the itinerant musicians that go to coffee joint after coffee joint eking out a starving.

Through all those years I went there, I always noticed this one man. Surely ten years younger than me, he looked more like he'd walked out of a Shakespearean play than a college town. He would have played a good Oberon to my Tatiana. I rarely heard him speaking and he seemed to have few friends. But he had the eyes of a poet and long shiny dark hair on his gaunt frame. I rarely saw him inside the narrow coffee shop, but he was often in the back garden patio, especially at night, sitting in the darkness away from the well-lit koi pond and giant metal flowers that cast surrealistic shadows on the stucco. At the end of the patio was a tiny one-room building. Over the years it had served as storage, a psychic reading office, and a massage business. It was always closed it seemed, no matter what business had rented it.

If I'd seen him all those times, surely he'd seen me as well. I was hardly a stranger there. I'd gone to the new artist's open houses, read at the poetry nights, and quaffed down a fair amount of Mexican hot cocoa.

If I'd ever seen what kind of women he was attracted to, I may have made the effort to appeal to him in that way. But I never saw him trying to hit on women. While it is possible that he was gay, I never saw him flirting with guys either.

That just added to the mystery and my lust. How do you seduce someone that seems to have no interest in other people? If I believed in love charms, and making someone want you desperately, I would use it on him. So I decided that's just what I would do. I knew he would be there like clockwork on Tuesday night, one of the slower nights at the coffee house.

I wrote him a note and rolled it into a tiny scroll. I put it in a tiny cobalt blue glass bottle. Then I lowered it into a coffee mug laced with love potion, and filled the cup with coffee and made sure it was delivered to him.

Then, underneath the wooden table he usually sits at, I taped a key to the tiny room in the garden, which was currently vacant.

On Tuesday night while he was sipping the coffee, he pulled out the bottle and read the note. "Below me you'll find a key."

And hopefully he would be bright enough to find the key taped under the table. If not, I would figure he wasn't smart enough for me anyway. I waited in the darkened room, listening for the key in the lock.

Key in hand, he would start to look for a keyhole. Since there is only one door back there, that shouldn't take long.

Inside the door I had tied fishing line and run it through hooks so that when he opened the door, a little fairy doll lowered from the ceiling. She would be holding a tiny sign that says, "Welcome to my fantasy." Then candles throughout the room would light.

After what seemed like an hour, I heard the key turn in the lock. I gave him time to read the note, watched the candles come alive with flames and then I stepped out of the shadows with my long dark hair rippling downward over my blood red gown that barely covered my nipples. Being a man of few words, he reached out to me and found my nipples with his long fingers and teased them free of the gown.

I talked softly to him and encouraged him to touch me more. I lead him away from the vine-covered windows to a burgundy velvet boudoir couch in the back. I see the lights on the patio go out as the coffee house closes for the night. I sit on the couch and run my fingers along his belt, watching his eyes to make sure he is willing to go along. He seems both puzzled and aroused. Surely the potion must be working. He neither stops me nor helps me. I rub my palms over the swell in his black denim jeans. He groans and closes his eyes. There is no subtle way to unsnap his jeans, so I just grab the snap firmly and get it loose in one tug. Easing the zipper down proves less difficult. Happily, he isn't wearing anything under his jeans. I run my finger over his curly little hairs there and sigh. Should I be bold and just take that firmness in my mouth? I control my hunger and slide back on the couch and rub my nipples instead, playing with the hard little bumps and tugging them while he watches. He leans forward and rubs his hardness against my face. I slide my hands up under his black silk shirt reaching for his nipples. He helps me unbutton his shirt. He pulls off his thin leather belt. I slowly stand and press myself against him, kissing him. He slides his hands up my arms to my shoulders and nudges me so I turn around. I barely have time to wonder what he is doing when he grabs my wrists behind my back and loops his belt around them. He seemed so shy and quiet; I admit I was quite startled. Holding my wrists with one hand, he ran the fingertips of his other hand up my spine. The tickling sensation made me arch my back so my tits protruded forward. Evidently that is exactly what he had in mind. He kissed the back of my neck and unlaced the back of my dress. The silkiness provided no friction against my skin so once the pressure of the lacing was removed the gown slid down to my ankles in a soft swish.

"Ah, he moaned,' stockings. You're killing me here." He pressed his hard cock against my lace panties. He slid his belt up above my elbows and adjusted the fit. Then in one motion he spun me around and pushed just hard enough to seat me back on the couch. I had to admire his finesse. As he slid out of his jeans, he pulled a black silk handkerchief out of his pocket. "I hate to cover those beautiful blue eyes," he whispered. He soon had me blindfolded. By now my clit was throbbing in anticipation. I felt his lips pressing against mine, his tongue opening my lips. Not being able to see somehow made the kiss that much hotter. He pulled away. A moment later I felt his lips again and opened mine, only to realize it was his erection pushing into my mouth. I greedily took him in, moaning and sucking as his grip tightened on my hair. I felt his balls bumping against my lips as I took him deeper.

My panties were soaked. I felt his long warm fingers pushing my panties between my pussy lips. He twisted his fingers in them, pulling them tight into my slit. I sucked like there was no tomorrow. I felt his cock swell inside my mouth, when he suddenly pulled it out. He bent over and whispered, "Don't cum yet beautiful."

How did he know I was so close? I pressed my thighs together trying not to cum.

I jerked as he pinched my engorged nipples. He laid me back on the couch on my stomach and slid my panties off. "That's it Sweet, open those thighs." I felt his long tongue lick from one end of my slit to the other. He massaged ass, then my pussy lips and stretched them open.

"Mmm, what a beautiful ass," he murmured. Then I heard a humming sound and realized he had a vibrator. He lifted my hips with one strong arm and started working the vibrator over my clit. My nipples rubbed against the couch. I started to cum but his spank startled me. "Not yet," he said firmly. I felt his warm handprint forming on my ass. Then he pulled the vibrator away and I breathe a sigh of relief. Make that half a sigh, because he deftly slid the vibrator into my ass. I yelped in surprise. With my elbows pinned, my breasts insisted on rubbing against the velvet couch with every breath. He took the blindfold off and gagged me instead. "Shh," he whispered. People might be out on the street still."

He sat on the couch and slid me so I sat in his lap, facing away from him. He unbuckled the belt from around my arms. He lifted me and lowered my pussy over his shaft. That alone drove me half out of my mind. "Now bounce for me darlin'," he said. He grabbed my breasts and helped me bounce up and down on his shaft, the vibrator still inside my ass. Harder and faster I bounced.

"Now baby, cum hard for me."

The second I started cumming he pinched my nipples wickedly. I screamed against the gag but came in wave after wave. I couldn't stop coming.

I couldn't believe he hadn't cum yet. When I had finally gotten control of my senses, he lifted me up and slid his engorged cock out. He slid the vibrator out and turned it off. I thought we were done when he slid his cock inside my ass and wrapped his arms around my waist, forcing his cock deep inside me. The gag was wet in my mouth. I started to cum again. His cock was so hard and the pressure was intense.

His groans told me he was about to burst; I couldn't help grinding against his lap. I felt him squirt deep inside me. I'm sure my face was bright red. His hands were still wrapped over my tits. I felt embarrassed and thrilled and aroused all at the same time. "That's it," he moaned, "take it all." He was so tight inside me I came with him, tears running from my eyes. He kissed my neck and shuddered, his cock deep inside me. Eventually he undid the gag and lovingly smoothed the tangles out of my long hair.

Later, as we were dressing, he sat on the bed brushing my hair. "That was wonderful. I need to go soon though. It must be 3 AM."

I nodded sadly in agreement. I watched him walk away under the streetlights into the morning fog.

The last time I was visiting that area, I was at the train station waiting for the train back to the city, when I saw him again. He wandered in the front door, used the facilities, and then headed out on foot across the parking lot. Just like the old days, he took no notice of me sitting there.

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