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I settled into an overstuffed, dingy green armchair near the window with my cup of cappuccino. This café is my Sunday morning ritual. I get my morning coffee and sit for hours to people-watch. This particular morning there was a good mix of 20- and 30-somethings. My eyes grazed over a few guys who might be worth a second look. I caught one guy peering over his book, looking at me, and I quickly looked away, staring down into my cappuccino as I took a sip. My eyes continued to scan the room until a familiar face coming through the doorway caught my attention. I couldn’t believe I was looking at Mr. Smith. I never expected to see him outside the library, especially downtown in my own neighborhood like this.

I grinned and watched him as he and the other people who had shuffled through the door behind him wandered in and found tables. My eyes followed him, waiting for Smith to notice me. I wondered what he would do.

He walked over to an empty table near the counter, pulled out a chair and the woman who had been walking behind him sat down. She was blond, thin, and pretty in a Midwestern-homecoming-queen sort of way. They exchanged a few words, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, and then went to the counter to order. It wasn’t until he was carrying back their drinks that he finally made eye contact with me. My grin was gone and I was just staring at him. He stopped abruptly and just stared back like a deer caught in headlights. On his left hand, I noticed a wedding ring that hadn’t been there during any of his visits to the library. Smith quickly regained his senses and continued towards he and the blond woman’s table and sat down.

I didn’t know what to do. I was only partly angry, slightly jealous, and mostly turned on by the fact that I was “the other woman.” I suddenly felt a bit disgusted with myself for enjoying this fact. I assumed this blond woman sipping her latte obliviously must be his wife. Unless Smith had made a habit of fucking a girl everywhere he went. Maybe she was the checkout girl at Gristedes, I thought. I pictured them having sex on the conveyor belt stranded teens porno at the ten-items-or-less register and I couldn’t help but giggle to myself.

My curiosity was killing me. I needed to get a closer look at this Pepto-Bismol-pink-clad woman. Plus, I wanted to see Smith squirming in his seat. I abandoned my unfinished cappuccino and headed towards the bathroom downstairs so that I could walk by their table. As I walked by, I discreetly looked the blond woman up and down, sizing her up. I knew it was ridiculous to feel this kind of competitiveness with her, but I couldn’t help it. I was happy to spot a few tiny wrinkles beginning to form around her mouth and that her breasts were not quite as firm as mine. After I was clear of the table, I glanced back to look at Mr. Smith. As I had suspected, he had been watching me walk by and I recognized a mixture of uneasiness and excitement in his eyes as he stared up at me.

I followed the narrow stairway down to the greasy lower level. There were two single-occupancy restrooms that were both occupied. I stood there, distractedly, waiting for a bathroom that I didn’t even need. A few moments later, Smith’s voice whispered into my ear, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think it would matter. Does it?”

Without turning around, I replied, “I don’t sleep with married men.” I wasn’t really that angry, but I wanted to make him sweat a little.

“I don’t remember us sleeping, do you?” he quipped.

I tried rather unsuccessfully to hold back a grin. Smith wrapped his hands around my waist, slipping them under my soft cotton top so that I could feel his skin on mine. His fingertips played with the waist of my low-slung jeans. I could feel my body beginning to respond to him. My skin tingled and my nipples began straining against the fabric of my top. The heat had convinced me to go without a bra this morning and I hadn’t expected getting so excited that this fact would become so obvious. Smith looked down over my shoulder and discovered my secret. He smiled and his right hand began to creep upwards, student sex parties porno seeking to confirm his suspicions.

Just as his fingertips grazed my nipple, the bathroom door jerked open and Smith’s hand went into reverse at top speed. The woman who came out didn’t seem to notice and brushed right past us and up the stairs.

Smith quickly pushed me into the bathroom by the waist and locked the door behind us. Without hesitation, he began unbuttoning my jeans and I wriggled out of them, slipping of my shoes as well. He lifted me up onto the sink and began kissing me ravenously as my fingers tangled themselves in his wavy brown hair. His mouth moved down my neck to my chest. His thumb pulled down the neckline of my top and he cradled my left breast up to his lips and then my right. I suddenly dropped my hands down to his fly, anxious to release his throbbing cock. I hastily unbuckled and unzipped his pants. His thick cock sprung free and I slid his pants over his ass and they dropped to his ankles on their own.

I grabbed him and pulled him to me. He grabbed the thong that was barely covering my dripping wet hole and with one hard thrust delved deep into my pussy. I gasped and Smith began thrusting into me hard and fast. My thighs clenched around him and my hands searched for something to anchor me. My right hand gripped the sink and my left clawed at the cinderblock wall as his cock rammed into me. His hands were gripping my ass, moving my body in unison with his. The friction both inside me and on my inner thighs was driving me crazy. Mr. Smith’s mouth found my left breast once again and his tongue began to lash at my swollen bud without slowing down his thrusts in the slightest. From our escapades at the library, I was becoming increasingly skilled at muffling my moans, but he seemed determined to break me. I could feel myself coming to the brink of orgasm. Smith pumped once, twice more and released deep inside me just as my body surged.

We stayed like that for a moment, his still-hard cock buried within me, and his head submissive cuckolds resting on my shoulder. After a brief recuperation, we were once again aware of our present situation. We were in a slimy public bathroom in the basement of a café where his wife was waiting upstairs drinking latte. A quick glance at my watch revealed that we had only been down here for about ten or fifteen minutes. He should be safe, I thought.

We quickly got dressed and I looked at myself in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable. I looked at Smith’s reflection. “So, Mr. Smith… what’s your real name? I think, at this point, I deserve to know.” I watched him coyly as he put his hands in his pockets.

“Ethan,” he replied. “Ethan Jacobsen.”

“Do you have kids?” I could feel my conscience kicking in.

“No. Cindy and I haven’t gotten around to that.”

I felt a bit relieved that I wasn’t breaking up a family. Not that being a mistress was so noble, but at least I wasn’t an all-out home-wrecker.

I opened the door and discovered there was someone standing there waiting to use the bathroom. It took me a second, but I recognized him as the guy who had been checking me out earlier from behind his book. When Ethan stepped out after me, a look of confusion came across his face, but it was quickly replaced by a knowing smile that he made no effort to conceal.

We walked past him and headed up the stairs. Ethan placed his left hand on my ass, his fingers curled down between my legs. I wondered if he could feel how wet I still was through my jeans.

“So, are we still on for Tuesday, or is once a week enough for you?” I teased.

“We’re still on for Tuesday,” he said confidently.

As we reached the top of the stairs, his hand dropped back down to his side and we resumed our stranger act. He walked ahead of me towards his wife who was staring into space. Ethan’s placed his hand on her shoulder, waking her from her trance.

“Honey, what took you so long?” she asked. “Your coffee’s going to be cold.”

He pulled out his chair and slid into it. “There was such a long line and only two bathrooms. Sorry.”

This answer seemed to satisfy her and she took another sip of her latte.

I headed straight for the door and left the café, walking past the windows and around the corner. I could feel Ethan’s eyes following me as I walked away and I resisted the urge to look back.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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