September 11, 2015

Free Smut Friday: The Coffee Edition



Oh, yes. When you wake up before five a.m., the coffee is particularly sweet. Even when you take your java black. I have been pounding the caffeine for two hours now, and I'm feeling that warm, delicious buzz throughout my whole system.

That sound you hear? That's me. Vibrating.

Which gave me the idea for the first "coffee edition" of "free smut Friday."

You know who mentions coffee in her bio? Sophia Valenti does. She also features java in one of her stories appearing in Bent Over His Desk. And since I've had coffee on the brain lately—as well as in the blood stream—I thought this would be a perfect excerpt.


Here, let me pour you a cup of Too Strong to Break:

Did you ever have an affair whose memory you couldn’t shake? Not so much because of what the two of you had, but because of what the relationship could have been. That’s how I felt about me and Duncan. We’d met back when we were undergrads and had clicked instantly. From that first moment, there was an undeniable sexual attraction, and over the course of the next year, we had a lot of fun sex. Fairly vanilla sex, but it was fun nonetheless. Our relationship was always laid-back and never complicated, but we couldn’t say the same for our lives.

As our college years faded into the background and our future plans took center stage, there seemed to be less time for the sort of casual fun that we’d enjoyed for so long. We drifted apart, and I didn’t entirely mind. I wasn’t ready to think about forevers; I was more interested in the right now. But every so often I’d think of him—especially when some other guy had disappointed me or broken my heart. I think that’s because Duncan had never done either of those things.

But Duncan’s demeanor wasn’t the only part of our relationship that stayed in my thoughts. There were also memories of our last few nights together: of Duncan tugging my hair so firmly that my pussy ached and of him holding my wrists against the mattress as he drove his cock into me. At the time, I’d surrendered to the thrilling sensations he caused without thinking about what they meant. But those glimmers of dominance had awakened all sorts of kinky desires in me, ones that only seemed to grow.

And it was those decadent desires that would color my dreams. In my head, I’d replay those tempting episodes with Duncan, but in my fantasy world, he would take things further. Rather than holding down my wrists as he fucked me, he’d bind me tight with cuffs and chains, and once I was his captive, he would do all sorts of deliciously dirty things to me.

It was during nights like that I’d find myself longing for what could have been. That is, if Duncan and I had dared to follow where our lust seemed to be pointing us.

As the years went by and I dated a steady stream of sexually boring guys, I realized I had to start looking for other options. While I’d spend my days in the office discussing legal briefs with the partners, I’d spend my nights transfixed by online personal ads from leather-clad men who seemed to be looking for a girl just like me. Their photos and dangerous promises were titillating, but I couldn’t make myself answer even one of those ads. Confessing the sort of feelings I was having via an Internet connection seemed too distant and impersonal to me. I wanted to find someone special and whisper those secrets in the dark, to close my eyes and get swept away.

I suppose I’m a romantic, after all.

While I’d never hooked up with anyone whose profile I perused online, I did start chatting with some local people on one of those sites and finally decided to attend an outing for novice kinksters. After talking over coffee, we were to visit a nearby BDSM club. I’d always wanted to go to a sex club, but I’d never been brave enough to go on my own. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to experience something new.

I was as nervous as all get-out, but I felt this was something I needed to do. Sitting home alone wasn’t getting me any closer to realizing the dreams that continued to taunt me. But while these were serious concerns, I was getting ahead of myself. My more immediate problem was what to wear.

At first glance, my workaday wardrobe didn’t seem to lend itself to a night out at a kink club. But once I started looking at items piece by piece, it all came together. My white silk blouse was demure and appropriate for court, but it became sensual and seductive with a few buttons undone to reveal cleavage enhanced by a black push-up bra and a belt to cinch the waist and highlight my curves. A garter belt and black seamed stockings complemented my shortest pencil skirt, and when I stepped into four-inch stilettos, I felt more bawdy than businesslike. As I walked across my living room to grab my purse, I felt the satin lining of my skirt slipping and sliding against my bare ass in a sensual caress.
Before I headed out the door, I glanced in the mirror and ran a hand through my untamable black curls, then slicked some ruby-red gloss on my lips. My dark eyes were shining with excitement. I wasn’t sure what the night held, but I felt like I was ready for anything. But the anything that awaited me was beyond my sexiest dreams.

When I got to the cafĂ©, there were ten people sitting around the table, including Melissa, the friendly organizer of the outing. I was given a warm welcome by everyone in the group and immediately felt at ease. We spent some time talking with each other about our experiences, and I was happy to learn that almost everyone was a curious beginner like me. 

Before long, the coffee had grown cold, and it was close to midnight, which meant it was time to leave for the club...

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If you want to find out what happens next, please buy our indie title—Bent Over His Desk, published by Violet BlueDetails on my latest sex-and-coffee contest are here

More fiction by the sophisticated and sultry Sophia:


XXX,
Alison

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