[MF] [preg] [piss] Coffee in Elko

I had left my hometown of Palm Springs, CA right after sunrise. I drove for hours and hours and hours. I drove a lot a few years ago. Maybe I thought that a magic mile count would make my problems stay behind. I thought I could hide somewhere far enough in the desert, or the mountains, or the lake. I had tried most everyplace I could think of. Wyoming was my last chance. Surely no problems were big enough to come find you in Wyoming, I thought to myself.

But after 10 hours of driving, I succumbed to the signs on the highway, and settled for the night in what they promised would be a haven of comfort and delight: Elko, NV. Let me tell you, it was neither. I picked a random hotel, checked in, ate something at one of the many casinos that double down as restaurants, and crashed. It was an eventful night. If I dreamt, I don’t recall it. I was happy enough that the room had a bed and no trace of mold.

I checked out first thing in the morning, and asked for directions to a coffee shop. If I was to make my way to the next stop, I needed coffee. A lot of it. I was pointed to “the only thing probably open in town on a Sunday this early. Go down Idaho, pick a left at 5th, and just follow it for a couple miles, past the church. You should run into it, Elko Coffee it is called.

It took me a couple tries, but finally I found the little neon sign. Elkoffee it said. Open. Elkoffee I giggled to myself. I was not above a mediocre pun.

I parked the car, and walked in. Compared to the dusty deserted roads around, the store was like jumping in a different world. The walls were spotless, probably freshly painted, in the brightest white one could ever imagine. The art at the walls was abstract, modern, and yet it had a warm homely touch to it. Like someone had actually chosen it with care, and assembled it with intent. The little tables all had a tiny cactus on it, and in the corner next to the counter, the day’s newspaper was made available. Oh, yes, the counter. It was, if possible, even more bright than the walls. A table above read in careful handwriting

Americano $2.50
Espresso $3.00
Macchiato $3.25
Latte $4.00, breakfast special, latte and croissant $5.00

I walked up to the counter, and a girl came out of a little tented door, as if she had seen me walk in and was just waiting for me to be ready. She was attractive. Not conventionally so. But attractive nonetheless. She had cut her hair short. So short you could almost imagine her going bald. Her face had a cutesy shape to it, the right amount of round, with a tiny nose adorning it. Her eyes were dark, almost blandly so. But they had a spark to them. And when she smiled, that spark, it said “I’m naughty” and as a footnote, “I know you know”. Maybe it was the dark lipstick she wore? The ring on her nose? Was it the hipster glasses clearly too big for her face? Something about her just screamed sex.

She was mildly off putting, unappetizing if you will, to most. But to those who were attuned with her brand of womanhood, she was an irresistible magnet of erotic attraction.

“Hi” I muttered, as I tried to regain some composure and chase away the indecent thoughts of forbidden acts. “Hi, what can I get you?” she smiled.
“I was going to have the latte special, please. For here” I said as I fumbled trying to find my credit card
“Sorry, cash only. You know, small store and all that”, she preempted me, pointing me at the ATM in the corner I had failed to notice

“Ah, alright, I’ll be right back” I smiled, “oh and do you have a bathroom?”
“Outside, first door to your right. Should be unlocked. I’ll get that latte going for you”

Had she noticed? The way I looked at her? Like she was a delicious piece of candy and I couldn’t wait to unwrap it and savor every drop of its taste. She must have. I couldn’t be the only one feeling the tension.

“So what brings you in town?” she asked, as the brought my order to the table
I felt like I could be sincere with her. “Well, life hasn’t been easy on me lately. I am running away from my problems. Hoping to get to a forest in Wyoming and that they won’t catch me there, you know.”, “Crazy stuff like that” I added laughing. “How about you? Are you from here?”
“Yeah, Elko born and raised. Moved to Idaho for school. Boyfriend broke up with me a week before graduation. My family owns the shop, I am working here for now. Maybe I will move to Seattle or Portland one day, but for now.. you know, Elko is nice. It’s what I know”

I could see it. Nevada seemed the kind of place that people happen to be born into, and just get too comfortable to leave. Not Reno, not Las Vegas. But the rest of the state, it had that feel to me. Nobody truly chooses Nevada. Nevada happens to people. Or people happen to Nevada. She saw my point, but she thought I was crazy. “Don’t go yelling this stuff too loud. People don’t like them Californians here” she added, trying to fake a redneck accent. “You better get used to that in Wyoming” she continued, laughing, and hitting her own leg, as if her joke was cracking her up.

We talked about why my life was in shambles. We talked about her plans to move away from Elko. She showed me pictures of her family. I teased her for her goofball poses in photos. She teased me for putting extra sugar in my latte. And as I was about to walk out the store, she asked me if I saw anything else I might want to get for the trip.

I am not bold, not by any chance. I am a shy and reserved man. But for once, I was smooth, brave, and utterly honest. “Yes”, I said. “Yes, I do. You” I told her as I looked straight in her eyes, and leaned in for a kiss.

She didn’t push me back, she waited for my lips to reach hers, and then she let her arms around me, pushed me against her body, and reciprocated my kiss. We started making out. Awkwardly. But intensely. With desire. As our kiss broke she caught her breath and moaned what I understood to mean “By the way, my name is Isabella”
I smiled at her, held my hand out and introduced myself. “Hi, James”. This was probably my first time kissing a girl before knowing her name. And it wasn’t half bad for a first time.

She walked to the front of the store, flipped the open sign to a closed. “It’s a Sunday. Folks need vodka more than they need coffee in this town” she explained, or maybe even justified herself, as she came back to me, slipping out of her work apron, and all other clothes for that matter. She was naked. A statuesque goddess. Her body was not what I had imagined. It was … feminine. Motherly. It was a body made for love. And love I was going to make to it.

I made her sit on one of the tables, and spread her legs. I went down on her. I licked her clit. I flicked it up and down with my tongue. I drew the alphabet on it. She tasted of delight. She moaned. And moaned. “Yes yes yes” she begged. “Yes more”. “Fuck yes” she demanded. She shook. Her whole body shivered. Her hands firmly holding my head in its place. Not giving me breath. Not giving me relief. I was to fuck her more. I was but a tool for her pleasure. Her head arched backwards. Her eyes shot at the sky. She cursed the heavens. “Fucking shit fuck yes fuck” she said time and again as her orgasm came and went in waves.

Her hand reached for my cock. She found it hard. Throbbing. It was so hard it almost hard. I needed to let it out. And I did. I pointed it at her vagina. Her eyes wide, she looked me right in the eyes. “I am not on the pill” she told me, as serious as I had ever seen her. As if this was the one thing I needed to know before any decisions were made.

I didn’t say much. Barely shook my head in acknowledgement. I let my actions speak. I pushed myself deep inside of her. She didn’t say much either. Barely shook her head. We understood each other. She didn’t care. And neither did I. Come what it may, it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was my cock fucking her. All that mattered was my teeth sinking in the soft flesh of her tits. Her dark pink nipples hard as rocks as I bit into them. The sounds her wet pussy made as I slid in and out of it. Her nails scratching my back. She fucked like a beast. And so did I. I liked biting. Scratching. I choked her. I slapped her. Pulled her hair. Called her names. And she wasn’t shy about returning the favor. I had scratches on my back, on my chest. I had bite marks on my neck.

She took my head in her hands. She made me look in her eyes. And she pissed. I felt the warmth and the pungent smell. She pissed on the table. On my naked body. I felt it dribble down my balls, my legs. But I couldn’t look away. I stared in her eyes as she pissed on me. I tried to ask something. I didn’t even know what to ask. She stopped me. With a kiss. She put her hand right where my cock was, and she licked her fingers. She licked her juices, she licked my juices, and she licked her own urine. And she kissed me some more. I didn’t even know that a man could want this. And yet I did. I wanted more of it. My eyes must have implored, for she did it again. And again.

She could read my mind, Isabella. She knew I was about to cum. Before I could even try to pull out, she locked her legs around me. I gestured, trying to figure out the words. She stopped me. She said. “I know. Do it.”
“But, but..” I tried to respond
“No if no but. I know. Do it.” she said again. She was firm. Sincere. She wanted it. But did I? Did I want to shoot my cum in a stranger’s bare pussy?
“What if…” I started, but she ignored it. She licked behind my ear, she nibbled my lobe, and she whispered the words that sent me over the edge.. “if it happens, my belly will swell with your baby. Does that turn you on? Knocking me up? These titties will be ripe for milking. Make a mommy of me” she moaned sensually.

I couldn’t resist that. I knew I couldn’t. And so did she. She knew everything, Isabella. I shot. I shot a load so large I didn’t know I had it in me to shoot it. I shot it balls deep inside of her.

We dressed, gained some composure, and as I walked out the door, she followed me. “So that’s your car, uh? Nice ride.”
I thanked her, and was about to make my way out, unsure how to handle the goodbyes, and she sat in the passenger seat and buckled up.
At my puzzled looks, she answered “I thought you wanted to take me with you. That’s what you said before we fucked. All men are the same” she laughed.

I thought she was joking. Oh what a funny prank. But, no, Isabella was serious. She called her family, said an old friend had showed up, she’d go hang out for a few days. Yes she’d be fine. She’d call. And just like that, Isabella and I were off to Wyoming, where we would try to forget my problems. And where we’d end up spending the next 20 years, raising the baby we made at Elkoffee.

**To the beautiful and charming I.M. and N.B. without whom this fantasy would not exist**

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/cj1wzk/mf_preg_piss_coffee_in_elko