So, to set up this piece – it’s intended as a farce, as a joke, and as a writing exercise. The task was to create an erotic story that is full of terrible analogies, bad metaphors, and is all-around purposefully just…well, bad. So, enjoy the laughs – but be careful reading ahead because there is sexuality (even if it is produced in a terrible way) and some very naughty words and language. – Joe


 

He could feel the palpitations in his heart when she walked into the room. Of course, the palpitations were almost certainly directly related to his third nipple, but for some reason science hadn’t actually nailed that down for sure. For now, he was going with the long dandelion stems flowing out from under her one-piece dress that clung to all of her curves harder than the cyclists he’d seen in the Tour-De-France. Unlike Lance, both of his own balls were throbbing by the time he peeled his eyes from her body. There was a god.


 

Her face flushing, the young woman cleared her throat. She knew the look in his eyes, and she was used to it – but not from this young but somehow old looking barista. How old was he, anyway? She found herself wondering what kind of car he drove and decided that, at least in her mind, he rode a motorcycle. She pictured the machinery between his legs.

“Hi. Welcome,” he said in a deep baritone voice that reverberated throughout her petite frame like a Harley engine. She watched his lips move beneath the whiskers of his untrimmed mustache as he spoke and she involuntarily licked her own lips.

“Um, hi,” she said, stammering. Idiot, she thought. “I’m looking for something sweet, but…like, not too sweet? Does that make sense?” She fidgeted with one of the buttons of her dress, the top one. As she did, she could see his eyes traveling down into the valley of her chest where he found ample fruits.

It was his turn to lick his lips.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, nodding. He looked into her crystal green eyes and found himself swimming in their depths. He almost drowned, but she blinked. “I totally get what you mean. Do you like…”

She found herself waiting breathlessly, knowing what he’d say next but needing to feel the power of his baritone complete the sentence, a verbal climax.

“…chocolate?” He finished, resting his elbows on the counter.

“Uh-huh,” she replied, leaning onto the counter as well, exposing the tops of her ample melons to his greedy eyes, allowing him non-restricted access to her body’s ample gifts. He had an all-day pass to her proverbial theme park and she was Walt fucking Disney. She felt like any minute now she’d also be a proverbial Splash Mountain.

“Well,” he said, letting his eyes linger for a moment. “We have a mocha latte. Do you like it cold…or hot?”

“Oh my god,” she said. “Hot. Definitely…hot.” She undid another button. Customers had begun to line up behind her, but it only made it more exciting. She liked it when people watched.


 

He moved to the espresso machine and poured some milk into a metal steaming pitcher. He poured it slow, deliberately. Some splashed on his thick and uncallused fingers and he absentmindedly stuck them in his mouth, despite it being a clear QASA violation. This woman was upsetting his equilibrium, spinning him off his axis like a world hit by a comet of hotness. She was the comet and he was the world. Whichever one, it didn’t matter – but dinosaurs definitely became extinct, and those dinosaurs were definitely his inhibitions.

He locked eyes with her again, and she watched as he steamed the milk. The milk began to froth, and he had to manually adjust the wand’s depth into the pitcher by lowering and raising the pitcher up and down. Up and down. The act took on a very erotic feel as he felt her watch his pitcher gyrations. His green apron was hiding his massive cock bulging beneath his work-appropriate pants, and he knew she was searching for it like Sir Walter Raleigh had searched tirelessly for El Dorado – the Lost City of Gold. The only difference between she and Raleigh was that she was hot and a woman and she’d find his dick in all sorts of ways.


 

She watched him finish, and by this time her meat wallet was filled with the sweet payoff of his actions. When he handed her the latte, she briefly touched the tips of his fingers and an electric shock was sent shrieking through her engorged labia and she felt like they’d start flapping any second to lift her off into ecstasy.

“Here you go,” he said in his deep baritone. “That will be $7.95.”

Her pussy exploded with the force of a fire hydrant. $7.95 for a latte. She really enjoyed a good fucking.