I’m Told I Make Good Coffee — Jeremy Edwards

You make the best coffee, Lawrence,” Claudine said with an emphatic resonance of sincerity in her voice. I knew she was no stranger to the many java boutiques in the neighborhood, so I was especially appreciative of this compliment.

“But speaking of drinking coffee . . .” Her cute little bottom hopped off the wooden stool behind the counter, and she shuttled briskly toward the bathroom. I walked around to take her place at the cash register, prepared for the unlikely event of a customer visiting the little record store at the hour of 11:20 a.m.

“Uh-oh,” said Claudine from the end of the short hall that led to the bathroom. “The door is stuck again.” I bounced over to help her, having myself mastered the “trick” to getting the door to unjam.

As I approached, I noticed that Claudine’s ass was jiggling a bit. I remembered how once, in idle conversation about our sexual proclivities, she had mentioned to me that she enjoyed the erotic sensations of “holding it” a while before peeing. I hadn’t given it much thought at the time; but now my breath went short as I speculated that she was relishing the present moment. I noticed how the tight, pinstriped fabric of her handsome retro slacks danced seductively with her movements.

“Thanks. I have to pee!” she giggled as I reached for the doorknob. Something about the manner in which she stated the obvious seemed to confirm my guess that she was enjoying herself.

From my position behind her, I pushed my weight forward while turning the knob. As the door suddenly gave, I lost my balance slightly, and I unintentionally pressed against her.

“Sorry!” I reddened.

Claudine turned and gave me the warmest of knowing smiles. “Lawrence–are you a little hard?” More than a little, I thought. She was dancing in place now, openly holding her crotch, but she was grinning happily and showed no signs of moving along.  

“I guess so.” I returned her smile.

“Oh, you sexy boy. This is the kind of thing that can make a grown girl wet her pants,” she laughed, with a suggestion in her voice that though it might be a bit of an inconvenience to wet her pants here and now, the scenario otherwise held an attraction for her. And where she was allowing herself to hover on the brink of wetting her pants, I was now on the verge of pollinating my jeans.

She darted into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar. I began to turn away as she peeled her slacks and panties and backed onto the commode . . . but suddenly she called “It’s okay–you don’t have to leave.” The next thing I heard was an angelic sigh of release. As the hiss and roar of her pissing began, I stumbled in without further hesitation, secure in the knowledge that the bell above the front door of the shop would give me plenty of time to return to the counter to serve any hypothetical forenoon customers. Hypothetical and improbable, I noted cheerfully.

____________________

Jeremy is a favorite author here on Every Night Erotica click here to read more from this author.

Jeremy Edwards is the author of the erotocomedic novel Rock My Socks Off and the erotic story collection Spark My Moment (both published by Xcite Books). His libidinous short stories have been widely published online, as well as in over forty anthologies. His work was selected for The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, vols. 7, 8, and 9, and he has read at New York’s In the Flesh and Philadelphia’s Erotic Literary Salon. Jeremy’s greatest goal in life is to be sexy and witty at the same moment—ideally in lighting that flatters his profile. Find Jeremy here: http://www.jeremyedwardserotica.com.