A coffee and some balls to kick please

Mateo was the barista at that tiny café right by the nursing building. It’s a small shop with only 3 tables and the chalk board with the menu that’s always smudged. Mateo is maybe 25 or 26 with dark curls he keeps shoved under a backwards cap and a couple tiny tattoos on his forearms that peek out when he rolls his sleeves.

He always blushes when I \[F22\] lean in to grab my flat white and say something flirty like “make it extra hot today” even though we both know I’m not talking about the coffee. Hehe I love to flirt with him. For months I’d show up every morning in my scrubs or leggings and tease him just enough to watch his ears go pink and then I’d walk away feeling this little rush of power because he was so easy to unravel and it made me feel wanted without any of the mess.

One Sunday afternoon the campus was basically dead because of the drizzle and I wandered over around 4:45pm just as he was flipping the “closed” sign. I was wearing some high-waisted black leggings that hug my ass, a white and pink cropped hoodie top that shows a thin strip of stomach and those chunky ankle boots with the block heel that click when I walk and make my legs look longer.

My hair was up in a messy ponytail and I hadn’t bothered with makeup because it was one of those lazy days but I still felt pretty in that effortless way. He saw me coming through the glass and his whole face lit up for a second before he got shy again and started wiping the counter even though there wasn’t a single cup in sight.

I ordered anyway just to drag it out and while he steamed the milk I leaned on the counter watching his hands move and when he handed me the cup our fingers brushed and stayed there a beat too long. He glanced outside at the empty path and said “I’m closing in like ten minutes …you wanna hang in the back while I clean up? It’s warmer than standing in the rain.” I said yes without even pretending to think about it and followed him through the door behind the counter into the cramped storage room of the café that smelled like coffee grounds and cleaning spray with shelves full of bags and a wobbly folding table and one metal stool under a bare bulb.

He started wiping surfaces and pretending to be busy but I could see him stealing looks at my legs every time I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I hopped up on the countertop so my boots dangled and swung them slow like I wasn’t doing anything on purpose and then I said “you’re always so nice to me Mateo …makes me wonder what you’re like when nobody’s watching.”

He stopped moving and looked at me like he wasn’t sure he heard right and I stretched one leg out until the toe of my boot rested lightly on his thigh over his jeans. He sucked in a breath but didn’t step back and I slid my foot higher until the sole pressed flat against the front of his pants and I could feel him getting hard almost right away. Fuck that was even better than I thought what would happen.

I kept my voice low and calm even though my heart was slamming and I said “you’ve been staring at my legs every single morning for months – don’t act like you haven’t.”

He swallowed hard and gripped the counter behind him and whispered “Emmy…” like it was a question and a plea at the same time. I hooked my other boot behind his knee and pulled him closer until he was standing right between my thighs and then I lowered the first boot again until it pressed square on his balls through the denim. Just testing the limits.

He gasped and his knees buckled a tiny bit before he caught himself and I rocked my ankle in slow little circles feeling the leather creak and the ridge of the sole dig in just enough to make him hiss.

I asked “does that hurt?” and he nodded fast but his cock was straining so hard against the zipper I could see the outline, so I pressed a little harder letting more of my weight settle until his whole body tensed and his breath came out in short shaky bursts.

A tear slipped down his cheek and he looked so shocked and embarrassed and turned on all at once that something dark and hot twisted low in my belly. I murmured “you’re crying but you’re so fucking hard right now” and he nodded again like he couldn’t believe it himself and whispered “yeah… it hurts so good…”

I switched feet to give the other boot a turn and kept the same slow grind building the pressure bit by bit while he gripped my calves like they were the only thing keeping him upright. Pre-cum soaked through his jeans in a dark wet spot that spread under my heel and I leaned back on my hands watching his face twist and listening to the little choked whimpers he tried to swallow. I giggled with an evil tone “are you gonna cum just from me stepping on your balls like this?” and he started to sobbed once – quiet and broken – and nodded desperately and said “I think so…”

I didn’t let up. I twisted my ankle just a fraction more and pressed down harder feeling his balls flatten and shift under the sole and his whole body locked up like a wire pulled tight. Then he came – sudden and hard – hips bucking against my boot while thick pulses soaked through the denim and I felt the hot wet rush against the leather. He kept shaking through it tears streaming freely now gasping my name over and over like he was falling apart and I just watched until the last tremor left him. He‘s such a good boy.

When it was done he slumped forward with his forehead against my thigh breathing ragged and I slowly lifted my foot off. His jeans were wrecked. A huge dark patch the size of my palm , and he didn’t move for a long minute like he couldn’t process what just happened. I slid down from the table, boots clicking on the concrete, bent down and kissed the top of his head once soft and almost sorry and whispered “oh baby clean yourself up and don’t tell anyone but I‘m gonna come back to you. That made me horny.”