Cafe Affair

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The way a woman smells is more of a turn on than almost anything else. Of course I do love the way women look and have a preference for those with a fuller figure and a great smile but if that womanly scent is masked with strong perfume and layers of product it just turns me off. I love the smell of an unwashed body, not festering and gross, just that end of the day smell, the scent of sweat, ozone and, if I’m lucky enough to find someone to indulge with, the smell of urine and pussy soaked into the delicate fabric of a pair of panties pulled tight against swollen, plump cunt lips.

My wife knows this, knows just what I like. She’ll return from work and as we make dinner or deal with the evening chores she’ll surreptitiously stroke her pussy through the fabric of her pants, her fingers picking up that perfect womanly scent and as she’s passing or as I’m cooking she’ll come up behind me and hold her fingers beneath my nose. I’ll breath deeply and savour the smell and sometimes she’ll push her fingers into my mouth and I’ll lick them clean.


We’re no strangers to swinging and swapping and have had the occasional adventure alone so one night, as we lay in bed, I told my wife about Michelle. She listened to my brief description and asked me to tell her what I wanted to happen. I told her in great detail and she stroked her pussy through her knickers, teasing me by letting me smell her and then pushing her fingers inside as I became more explicit with my fantasy. She came as I finished my story, a gentle, mini orgasm. She looked at me and smiled.

“I don’t mind,” she said, “just come back and tell me all about it and if she’s that hot, bring her back to play.”


I work from home and our house is in an area with a great many fantastic coffee shops within just a short walk. I have a favourite that is large and noisy but has a great vibe, is pretty quirky and serves great coffee. Sometimes I’m there for just that; a Long Macc, just to satisfy the caffeine fix. Other times, when less busy I stay for lunch. The waitresses are lovely, not stunning, just plain and lovely. One wears very short shorts and has little bows tattooed on the backs of her legs. Another is young, early 20’s, quite dumpy and has the most fabulous smile and personality. I’d just so love to have my head beneath her dress at the end of a hard day, my face pressed into her cunt as she rubs herself against me. There’s the tall lesbian with all manner of piercings and wild coloured hair; she’s really funny and sarcastic, very dry and, unless you know her, she might seem a little prickly. She makes the best coffee. There’s demure English girl whose only make up is a shocking pink lipstick. She has very blond, almost white hair and of course, I fantasise that when the place closes they all strip of and luxuriate in each other every evening.

I try to sit on the same table. It’s a long communal bench and I like to sit closest to the wall. The wifi signal is strongest there and I often take my laptop and work but it’s also the spot that gives you the best view over the whole area and I love people watching. I’d seen Michelle a few times over the past couple of weeks, sometimes she called in just for a take away, other times she’d sit with a salad. She must be mid to late forties. She looks elegant and well dressed and is always alone. She has long blond hair, streaked with flashes of dark copper and red tones but she always wears it up, tied in a large bunch at the back. She wears large sunnies which she swaps for glasses as soon as she enters, black rimmed but fading to transparent on top of the lenses. She has a full figure, not fat really, just curvy and womanly with large breasts that she seems to tape down to her chest because they squash out the sides of her top. Every now and then, when she’s wearing a tight top I catch a glimpse of a beautiful roll of plump flesh around her waist. Her hips are wide and her arse shapely, as are her legs which narrow down to toned calf muscles and slender ankles.

Just over a week ago my day was quiet, I had some research to do and it was pretty warm so I thought I’d sit in the cafe and work there. It was reasonably busy when I got there but I was fortunate that my favourite spot was free. I’d been working for around 30 minutes, looking up occasionally as it filled to overflowing with the lunch crowd. I watched Michelle order and stop to look around the space for a comfortable seat. There was just one table free at the other side of the room; four seats, not good when you’re alone in a busy cafe and some seating outside in the hot, bright sun. Just as she took a step toward the large table the two people on the bench opposite me stood to leave. Their movement caught her eye and she smiled at them as they passed. She wandered over and sat against the wall, directly opposite me. I smiled and said hi and she smiled back.

Although I love this cafe, when busy, the service is dire and today it poker oyna was heaving. 30 minutes was a long time to wait for a salad and I was beginning to give up hope when Lesbian came over with my plate covered in thinly sliced fennel and wedges of blood orange, micro greens and all manner of seeds and nuts. She dropped it down in front of me, leant on the table and bent her head to my ear.

“You’re fucking lucky you came when you did,” she said, just loud enough for me to hear, “some of these cunts won’t see their lunch for hours.”

She stood without waiting for my reaction and turned towards the kitchen. I chuckled and turned back to my laptop and food. I caught Michelle’s eye, obviously curious about what she’d said so secretively. I smiled but didn’t think she’d appreciate the news. She smiled back, a questioning look on her face, hoping I’d tell her what was said,

“How long did you wait for that?” she asked

I screwed my face up a little to emphasise my dissatisfaction, “About half an hour.”

Michelle turned her mouth down in mock sadness, “I bet I’ll be here bloody ages then.” she paused and looked at my plate, “It’s a shame, I ordered the same and it looks lovely.”

I stood and walked over to the cutlery table and picked up another set. Returning I offered her my plate and handed her the cutlery.

“We can share,” I offered, “I’m not that hungry.”

Of course she refused and I insisted and eventually she picked up the fork. I closed my laptop and we began talking. Michelle is married but like many women here, her husband is on a fly in fly out contract. He earns enough for her not to have to work but she enjoys her garden and does some voluntary work. She also writes, something I had always wanted to pursue and that is what we talked about, her stories, articles, books. She’d had little published, mostly local press and newsletter type things, it was a hobby and she enjoyed the process, had little interest in any reward or recognition.

We sat for more than an hour and by the time her salad arrived we had little interest for it and so it was transferred to a small cardboard box and went home with her. We swapped numbers and for the next week or so we’d text each other whenever we were heading to the cafe. We sat in the same space and just had a laugh and at the end of the week Michelle broached the subject of my wife.

“Wouldn’t she be worried about her husband meeting someone in a cafe like this?” she asked me.

I smiled and reassured her, brushed it off as ‘just coffee’ but she didn’t seem convinced.

“She has other men friends,” I told her, “I have friends who are women, there’s really no big deal, not for us anyway. I’m sure she’d like to meet you, we’re attracted to the same people.” She understood my meaning, there was no need for me to be explicit.

“Am I attractive to you then?”

“Definitely and I’m sure Jenn would think so too. I sit here because I like to see who comes and goes and I’ve always cast a sly, admiring glance your way.”

“I had noticed, though you do it well, it’s not obvious.”

We were silent for a few seconds and both sipped at our coffee, not breaking eye contact. It seemed that Michelle had thought about meeting me for more than just coffee, as I had thought of her but the next step seemed to be a bigger issue for her than I.

“When my husband accepted this job that we knew it might be difficult being apart but we’re doing it for the long term. We’re renting here, it’s convenient and in 5 years we’ll be mortgage free, and free!” she paused, “I do find it hard though, in lots of ways.”

There was certainly some hidden meaning behind what she was saying, it wasn’t an open invitation but she also wasn’t closing the subject down.

“Jenn and I just enjoy other people,” I told her, clarifying just exactly the kind of relationship we have, “sometimes we’re together, sometimes apart but there are no secrets between us, I’ve already told her about the hot woman I meet in the cafe most days.”

Michelle laughed, “Hot?”

“Damn right, I think you’re very hot.”

She laughed again, a little embarrassed and then we sat in silence for a few moments.

“What do you like most about seeing other women then, what is missing from your marriage to make you want to do that?” Michelle asked, breaking the tension.

“Mostly it’s the excitement that Jenn gets out of it. I love seeing her with other people, love hearing about her experiences with others and love watching her as I tell her about mine. I enjoy being with other women at that moment, when I am with them but the real fun happens when I tell Jenn or when she gets involved with us”

Michelle thought for a second, “It must get boring though, don’t you crave something more, something different or extreme each time to keep the thrill going?”

“I know what I like and I’m quite adventurous and open, vanilla is not what I look for.”

“Oooh, this is all very interesting for a writer, what canlı poker oyna do you look for?” she asked and leant forward.

I smiled and moved closer to her, staring into her eyes, “Now that does sound interesting, want to play a game?”

Michelle grinned “Yes, what?”

“Write about me, us, Jenn and I. Interview me and I’ll tell you everything.”

“When?” Michelle snapped back at me enthusiastically

“I’m ready.”

Michelle said nothing, just stood and grabbed her bag. We left there together and walked around 15 minutes to her house. It was tucked into a side street and hidden behind a high wall, Frangipani’s growing tall in the front garden. We stepped into the hall and Michelle pushed the door closed behind me, brushing up against me as she did so. I wanted to catch hold of her and kiss her but was worried we might end up fucking right there on the floor and there was more fun to be had yet.

I followed her into the lounge, a large corner sofa sitting on the polished wooden floor. Michelle found a pad and pencil and we sat opposite each other at the corner.

She smiled, tight lipped and nervous, “Go on.” she said.

“Where should I start?” I asked

“I don’t know, maybe with what you like. If vanilla is not your flavour then what is?”


I described what I liked, my love for fuller figured women, great eyes and a smile. How I love watching Jenn being fucked by another man or woman, describing situations we’d been in, watching another man’s cock slide slowly in and out of her, how we’d been to several glory holes and I’d watched Jenn suck and fuck strangers cocks. How I considered myself cock friendly, that I like sucking other men, particularly if they’ve just been inside a woman’s pussy and how I liked to lick my own or another mans cum from Jenn’s body. I told her I liked anal sex and women that squirted when they came and that I could watch two women kissing for hours. I told her all this in explicit detail but I saved my most erotic turn on for last.

“I love the way a woman smells.” I told her, “I love it when a woman has the aroma of the day on her, especially if she hasn’t washed her pussy that day and I get to lick and taste her. I love the smell of stale urine in a woman’s knickers and the way that, when wet and aroused, the smell of their pussy, the wetness makes the scent on the fabric even stronger.”

I could see Michelle was very agitated, she hadn’t written anything down for more than ten minutes and was staring wide eyed, visualising the scenes I described. She carried on staring into space as she asked her next question.

“Do you like watersports?”

“I like to watch a woman pee,” I said, “I love the hot fluid on my cock and love it when a woman pees on me but no higher than my chest and I don’t really like the taste.”

“What about poo?” she asked and then snapped back to life and looked at me, another embarrassed smile drawing over her lips

I laughed at the childish way she’d said the word ‘poo’, “No, I don’t like that.” I replied, “In fact, although I love the smell of a woman a dirty arse is not very pleasant. I’d love to push my tongue into your arse but only if it’s clean.”

It took a second for what I’d said to sink in.

“My arse?” Michelle asked

I stopped for a second and thought, “Yes, your arse.”

Michelle cleared her throat and fanned her face dramatically as she stood. “Sorry, give me a second.”

She looked very flustered and stepped up into the kitchen area and down a corridor towards the back of the house. She was gone a few minutes and when she returned she stopped in the kitchen then walked over with two large glasses of water. I sat on the edge of the sofa as she handed one to me and I drank some then placed it on the floor and watched her finish hers, gulping it down and panting heavily as she bent to place her glass next to mine.

She said nothing as she stood and raised her right foot, placing it on the sofa beside me. At the same time, staring into my eyes, she ruffled her skirt up to her waist, her fingers trembling and her breathing rapid and shallow. She revealed a pair of deep red knickers that covered a mat of dark hair that grew up over the top of the waistband. She placed her fingers from her free hand in my fringe and slowly slid them through my hair to the back of my head then applied some pressure and pulled my face close to her pussy, pushing herself forward at the same time.

“I washed my arse hole for you.” she said and I closed my eyes, pressed my nose to the gusset of her panties and took a deep breath.

The smell made my mouth water, she couldn’t have washed her pussy that day at all and the strong smell of urine tingled my nose. I pushed my nose down lower and she parted her legs more as I drew breath again. Her skin was sticky with sweat and she had a strong odour that made me hungry to push my tongue into her. I licked at the soft, plump skin between her legs and tasted her saltiness then internet casino ran my tongue over the smooth, silk fabric. A delicate flavour rippled along my tongue and I squeezed my tongue between the soft, sticky flesh of her legs and the rough, scratchy hem of her knickers, loving the scent on my nostrils and the salty taste on my tongue. I pushed further and further down until I’d pushed the edge of the fabric up into the crease of her groin and her pussy lips bulged, filling the gusset of her knickers looking amazingly delicious and plump. I closed my mouth over them and sucked and moaned at the intense flavour. I wanted more and ate at her hungrily, trying to slip my tongie inside her pants to lick her swollen lips clean but the fabric was too tight. I hooked my fingers into the gusset of her knickers and pulled them away from her pussy to release more of her scent. They stuck to her skin and hairs as I turned them outwards to take a closer look and could see a faint patch of yellowy, milky fluid staining the red silk, diluted by a fresh patch of wetness, possibly a dribble of pee, maybe a secretion of sex or my saliva. I pressed my nose to them and sniffed at the strong odour and my cock responded, hurting against the restriction of my underwear and growing as hard as can be. I pushed out my tongue and licked the sticky patch then pushed against the fabric with my fingers and sucked it into my mouth. The flavour was strong and acidic and it made my tongue twitch and cut into my throat. I sucked them clean, moaning with pleasure, pressing my nose against her plump pussy, soaking the pants with my saliva and lapping at them, probing with my tongue to find every morsel of womanly fluid. When finished I carefully pulled them to one side and through the thick, dark hair I could see a pair of large brown, wrinkled lips, wet with clear pussy juice, quivering and desperate to be sucked into my mouth and cleaned.

Michelle squatted down a little more and I held the fabric away from her, parted her lips with my free hand and licked the brown, swollen folds of skin. She moaned above me as my soft tongue pressed against her cleaning her hair of the days sweat and stale urine that had gathered, then louder still as I pushed the tip into her to get to the thick cream oozing from her cunt. My nose in her soft pubes and plump belly became coated in the strong scent so every breath made me want more. I ate her, sucking her lips into my mouth, moaning loudly, loving her taste and smell, pushing my tongue deep into her and rubbing the tip of my nose across her large, hard clit.

I wanted her to cum in my mouth, wanted her to explode but she kept swaying and grabbing my shoulder to steady herself and I knew she couldn’t be too comfortable. I held her hips and stood, moving behind her, pushing her forward to kneel on the edge of the sofa. She complied and I exposed her round arse to the air, knelt on the floor and once again, buried my nose into her as I pulled the fabric over one of her soft cheeks. Her arse hole was tight, wrinkled ridges of brown skin puckered into a tiny entrance formed by her strong sphincter muscles, the faint smell of perfumed soap from the hair that extended past her pussy and around her brown hole. I flicked my tongue over her and she jumped and squeaked. As I did it again with more pressure and I used the tips of my fingers on her cunt lips, parting them, stroking them and pushing a small amount into her, massaging her folds. She pushed back on me and I began to wriggle the tip of my tongue into her tight hole, my fingers pushing deeper as I did. When two fingers were inside her to the knuckle, coated in a thick layer of creamy white lubricant my tongue was as far into her arse as I could get and she rocked back and forth onto me. Her hole was tight and squeezed my tongue, her pussy juice trickled down to my wrist and I pulled my fingers from her and wiped the flavour all around her arse hole. I pushed my fingers into her again then withdrew them and licked them clean and once more pushed them slowly into her sticky pussy. I licked her arse clean of pussy juice, smearing it over my face and then forced my tongue back into her arse.

She was moaning loudly, her face buried in the soft cushion of the sofa. I felt her fingers on her clit and slowly withdrew my own from inside her plump, tight pussy, sat back and wiped them over my face before I licked them clean and watched her rubbing herself with some vigour.

“Don’t stop.” she said loudly, her voice muffled and I returned my tongue to fucking her arse. I pushed one finger just inside her wet pussy and moved it in firm but gentle circles she cried out that she was about to come and I increased the pressure just a small amount, finding her G spot and focussing the pressure against the ridge.

She raised herself from the sofa and shouted ‘shit’ in a long drawn out way as her orgasm built from her toes to the top of her head. I pulled my tongue from her and began flicking it over the ridges of her brown hole as my finger was forced out of her and a huge squirt of her cum soaked my shirt sleeve.

“Oh, fuck yes, Michelle,” I told her, “cum all over me, show me your cum.” and I pulled her lips apart and licked at her arse again.

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