Cream Pie Behind the Counter
By: Kai Teo
Location: Café Corner Shop, Bergsgatan 25, Malmö, Sweden
It was one of those quiet Friday mornings where everyone you knew was at work and you wake up in your own bed feeling absolutely free, but slightly empty.
Sure, I could’ve stayed home alone and just chill the fuck out, but the intense desire for human interaction and bonding drove me out of my bed, and into a quaint little café around the block that I’ve never been to before.
What happened in the next 2 hours was a sensuous adventure that satiated my wildest fantasy.
“Café Corner Shop” was its name. And it was only slightly bigger than a walk-in closet. Its walls were adorned with vintage posters of Pink Floyd and The Beatles, and faded old photographs of people that I didn’t recognise, all carefully framed in gold and haphazardly hung. The floor was made of rich, dark oak that creaked with a melodic vibration with every step I took as I walked towards the counter.
“Good morning, what would you like to have today?”
She emerged from the kitchen with a radiant smile. Her bright red, slightly curly hair swayed as she leaned forward towards me from across the counter. My senses were assaulted by her immense presence. Her half-opened green eyes stared confidently into mine, and apricot, she smelled like the freshest apricot – sweet, refreshing, and very calming.
The craziest thing though, was the way she looked at me. Those dreamy eyes settled their gaze gently on my face, and through them, I saw a deep yearning, mixed with a little bit of pain, yet a kind of ease that can be likened to that of Japanese monks. They seemed to tell me her entire life story, baring to me her entire soul, yet leaving so much in mystery.
“A coffee. Flat. No milk. No sugar.”
My autopilot coffee-ordering reply gently steered her body to turn around and reach up onto the top shelf to bring down an exquisitely crafted coffee mug. You know, those with gold trimmings and flowers and whatnot. But that’s not the point.
Her short, black T-shirt rode up her back and revealed a tiny pocket of fair, glowing skin just above her pants, just for a split moment. It was pure porcelain, with an almost invisible layer of extremely fine hair that moved with her breath. And catching a little glimpse of it felt like a cruel tease. So exhilarating, yet somehow forbidden.
“Here you go.”
The smile again. It’s the kind that lights up your day, the kind that lets you know that no matter how fucked up the world gets, there’s some beauty left for us to indulge in.
As she passed me the hot cup, I reached forward and our fingers touched. To be exact, my index finger touched her thumb. That brief touch of her skin electrified me, sending a pulse right through my spine. I gasped.
She leaned a little lower, while looking straight into my dazed eyes. Her loose collar dropped and revealed the top of her chest. Underneath her top, she was wearing nothing. She must have stayed in that moment for about five seconds, noticing that I had been peeking down her cleavage.
“Do you want anything else?” she came almost close enough to whisper into my ear.
“You are beautiful.”
What? Why? Why the fuck did I do that? I could’ve just said “No”. Now she’s gonna think that you’re a creep. But whatever, I was telling the truth. And truth shall always prevail.
She raised one eyebrow seductively and did a little naughty snarl, almost baring her teeth, almost purring.
“Thank you! For that, maybe I’ll let you taste something special from my café today. Come.”
She reached out for my hand from across the counter and led me around the cake fridge. There was a piece of New York cheesecake that I would like to have at some point. But again, that’s not the point.
Her hand was delicate and her fingers, long and slender. They were covered by a thin layer of flour from the baking, and the friction created by the white clay tingled my entire arm. Her hold was tight enough to command me, but so loose that it made me want to reach in and grasp it a little tighter to feel her energy.
She led me into her kitchen. It was packed with every imaginable ingredient, all arranged according to alphabetical order. Don’t ask me why I remember such things, but it just happened that way.
“Call me Lea.”
She slid her fingers… No. Lea slid her fingers into my belt loop and gave it a little tug, drawing my hip a little closer to hers.
“Now taste me,” she whispered into my ear and I could feel her warm breath caress my neck. That sensation called for my sweet surrender as she reached up to my hair and grabbed it, and instantaneously pulled me towards her neck.
I could smell her desire, as she inched ever so closely to me, pressing my lips against the tender skin just under her ear. Her sweat scent from the baking, magically combined with the sweet apricot fragrance, formed an intoxicating smell that drifted gently up my nose. The smell was animalistic, dangerous, and raw, yet so innocent, gentle, and pure.
I kissed her neck and she let out a soft moan. That little positive reinforcement pushed me on, as I pressed my tongue into her skin and ran it up behind her ear. She growled and gripped my hair even tighter, while the other hand was now pulling my groin to push against hers.
I let my tongue run slowly down to her cleavage, and watched as the glistening of my saliva on her chest was infused with her own sweat glitter. The kitchen was warm, and I found myself starting to sweat on my neck too. She tasted a little like a fruit salad with a bit of mayo. The sweetness, amplified and perfectly complemented with a tinge of organic sea salt. It was divine.
As my hands held her waist close, I gently pressed my tongue on her nipple, above her T-shirt. It instantly hardened and pushed out under the fabric. Lea then unabashedly slipped her hands into my pants.
I lifted up her top and held her breasts with both my hands. They were small and perky, yet firm to the touch. I opened my palms and gently let them glide over her pink nipples. Titillating would be the perfect word to use here. Then I closed my hands and held on to her breasts, watching my fingers sink slightly into her soft skin.
I could feel her heart pounding like a war drum and her chest rising up and down now as she started taking deep breaths and blowing them onto my neck.
Her hand was holding my now erect penis tightly. Her fingers wrapped around it with a vice-like grip, and working them in a circular up-and-down motion.
I took off her top and flung it onto the ground, and ran my tongue flat around her nipple, carefully teasing her, careful not to touch her nipple. Every breath she took now was a breathless moan, and I saw her roll her eyes up and tilt her head back, exposing her entire torso to me.
She pushed my mouth over her nipple and my tongue landed right on it, as I gently sucked it, feeling it get harder and harder between my teeth, feeling her pulse, feeling her fire.
Lea dropped down to her knees and started undoing my pants. This momentary lapse of any personal control was so fucking sexy. Her eyes were a little crazed, and in there, I could see hunger, desire, and an insatiable passion.
I looked up to the ceiling and fuck… oh my god… aw…
She had put the head of my penis into her wet and warm mouth and was swivelling her tongue around it. I sighed in uncontrollable pleasure as I now held her hair tightly. She started moving her head in and away, and she made sure to wet my whole shaft with her saliva.
And ever so gently, she would give a little nibble. It stung a little, but with it came an intense, instant shot of ecstasy that ran through my entire body, rendering me helpless.
I held her by her armpits and lifted her onto the table. All the time, still sucking on her nipples. It might sound a little dramatic, but the leftover flour from her pastries flew up in a white puff as she sat there, bathing us in her art.
We stripped each other with a ferocious fervent, and there we were, locked in a tight passionate embrace, right in the middle of her kitchen.
Someone might come in. Some fucking guest that needed a fucking coffee at fucking 11am in the fucking morning. But none of that matters now. Fuck everything else.
I pushed her down on the table, hearing her naked back slap against the wood, her hair strewn all over her shoulders and the flour, her hands clasping so tightly to the edge that her knuckles were turning white.
I let my tongue flap against her public region, letting her hair get wet as I applied a little more pressure on it. I bent down a little and placed her quivering legs over my shoulders. Then I slowly let my tongue caress her inner thighs, smacking them with my lips, inching ever so closely to her now dripping wet pussy, yet not quite touching it.
Then in a swift motion, I let the tip of my tongue sweep across her clitoris. She flinched, and let out a wild moan that was demanding for more. I flicked my tongue in an irregular, elliptical manner on her clit and her pussy lips. She didn’t taste much, she tasted a little sweet in fact.
“Faster, faster!” She commanded as she closed her thighs and edged me closer to her wetness.
I grabbed her breast with one hand and slowly slid my fingers into her pulsating pussy. It gripped my fingers as I let them slowly curl up in a beckoning move, as if to say, “Come for me, come for me.”
I kept going and her moans became uncontrolled gasps of pleasure. She jerked every time I thrust my fingers deep inside her, and her thighs shivered with every flick that my tongue makes on her swollen clitoris.
I kept going faster, and her moans grew louder and louder.
“Come in my mouth. I wanna taste you.”
And right at that moment, her pussy tightened around my fingers, engulfing them in the spasms of a soft, wet climax. I felt her gush out and I felt it run down my hand. She let out a little scream, closed her thighs’ grip on my face and let herself go in my mouth.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, oh my god!” She tried to utter those words, but I knew what she wanted to say even if she didn’t say it. Pleasure was written all over her face.
And before she could catch her next breath, I had already pulled her to the edge of the table. I first let the head of my cock slowly brush against her wet pussy lips, then I let it enter slightly. And I could see her almost trying to draw me in every time I try to pull a little further. I wanted her to want. I wanted her to force me in.
I rammed deep inside her, feeling myself slap against her ass with my body and she threw her head sideways and swung her red flowy hair all across her face. Her sweat had now begun to wet the ends of her hair and they sprawled across her glistening, blushed face like a river delta running wild into the ocean.
The packet of flour dropped to the ground and exploded in a cloud of dust that went “poof”. It created an atmosphere that seemed to engulf us in smoke. You know, kinda, heavenly yet mysterious.
I pushed myself all the way in and she arched her back and curled her hips, as if to accommodate me. I slowly drew out and thrust myself in again. And with every sudden push, her tits would bounce a little, almost like oranges in a supermarket bag. Ok, I don’t know why I came up with that analogy, but you get the picture.
I went faster and faster, one hand holding on to her protruding hip bone and the other rubbing her clit in smooth, clockwise circles.
“Come for me. Come in me.”
She opened her mouth and put my fingers in there, grinding them a little against her teeth, and letting her tongue fluidly caress them. She moaned, panted, and dug her nails into my back. Her eyes were flipped back in total submission, and her legs shaking with anticipation.
I was about to explode. I wanted to blow my entire load deep inside her. We’ll talk about the implications later.
And we fucked harder and harder, faster and faster, our sweat was mixing with each other’s as we let our hands run over all the skin that we could find. I was so close to coming, and she gave me one tight squeeze around my penis, as if to milk me for all that I was worth.
And I came. With such force that it felt like it shot the bottom of her heart (whatever that means). My entire body tensed up and spurted out my divine pleasure, as I gripped her shoulders tight and thrust her repeatedly, to the point where my very last drop of sexual desire was expelled from my soul.
As I let my head rest on her soft stomach, now slippery with our sweat, I made the lamest joke ever, “So you wanted me to try the cream pie?”
We both collapsed onto the ground laughing. Still bemused by what just happened, we locked lips, and started the whole thing all over again. And again. And that was how my day began.
Lea still runs her café to this day. And every time I walk in, I’ll never fail to ask for her special cream pie.