Camel Blue
Waking up before the sun to work the morning shift at the local coffee shop is not what most consider a stepping stone in a post-grad career. And of course, the closing shift was sloppy the evening before, leaving spilled grounds behind the counter and a sink full of milk jugs soaking.
After I finish cleaning up yesterday’s negligence, I unlock the doors and take a breath as the first wave of morning commuters shuffle through, barking orders for americanos and mocha lattes. After the rush calms down, I go for my 10-minute smoke break in the back alley shared with the local pub. The smell of the nearby dumpster can only be described as sour, and I gingerly step away from it.
The ritual of lighting up a Camel Blue feels like my only respite from making minimum wage with rare tips, which hardly funds my need to replace my clothes since I’m constantly ruining every item in my wardrobe with coffee stains. Smoking helps me process my existential thoughts and quells my inclination to enroll in grad school out of feeling completely aimless. I’ve been at the coffee shop now for about two years (two years too long), and if there’s one thing I know to be true, it’s that smoke breaks and random but thoughtful conversations keep you sane, keep you grounded, and keep things interesting.
As I take a few more moments to myself, I hear a deluge of bottles crashing into a nearby recycling bin. I peer around the corner to see Theo, the stock boy who works next door, ending his graveyard shift. He’s wearing what seems to be the only thing he owns: a threadbare black t-shirt with tears along the hem, some seriously sturdy, unwashed denim jeans, and brown work boots. He keeps a thin silver chain tucked into the collar of his shirt, and allows a scruffy amount of dark facial hair to grow where it may on his face and neck. It mixes in perfectly with his chin-length brown hair.
Theo and I have had an unspoken flirtation for a few months now, ever since he started. We only ever cross paths on my smoke break, where we occasionally share cigarettes and a maximum of 20 words on average. Not because we’re not interested in talking— because you can cut the sexual tension between us with a knife.
I first felt it when I found out he also smokes Camel Blues. Something about having the same preference in cigarettes made Theo feel dependable to me. Not like I can see us walking down the aisle or strolling hand-in-hand with our child, but enough to know that if one of us is out of smokes, the other will step in and supply. We commiserate on hating the service industry, share stories of nightmare customers, and occasionally talk about the casual encounters from our respective sex lives.
It’s in those conversations where I feel completely overwrought with desire for Theo. He’ll casually tell me about how he went down on the TA from his Psych 101 course eight years ago, how curvy and soft she was, and I’ll fantasize about myself in that situation with him. Luckily, with my cig in hand, I maintain a cool and collected demeanor. I’ve seen him survey my body in between puffs, and he’s seen me see him; I can tell he appreciates my hips, my curves. I’ve taken note of how the network of veins crawls up his forearms, and how he’s always giving off an indeterminate musk akin to a combination of natural saltiness, smoke, and a rich, earthy cologne.
He saunters over to me, and without a word lights up two cigarettes, handing one to me before my other is even finished. I discard my old Camel and look over at him, sensing a seriousness that I haven’t before. He’s looking firmly into my eyes, with his head gently laying against the brick wall supporting us.
“Last night was my last shift,” he says to me coolly. “Gotta take care of some family stuff out of state.” Theo had once communicated to me that his father was sick and living in a retirement community in Kansas.
“I’m sorry to hear,” I respond earnestly, gently resting my hand on his right shoulder. If this is the last time I’ll be seeing him, I want to show him how I feel. I feel his body react to mine, and just my lingering hand on his shoulder releases a vibrating sensation all throughout my body. I can feel my head getting hot, my cheeks flushing, my clit starting to swell. I let my hand sit for a moment, lightly stroking my thumb over the curve of his muscle. His arm is firm as he pauses to process the first physical contact we’ve ever had, and the tension between us becomes aggressively palpable as I let my hand fall down the length of his arm, stroking his skin lightly until my fingers land gently between his.
He takes a big sigh, and with a smirk he says “Wanna go somewhere private?”
“Just a second,” I reply, and walk back inside. Hurried and out of Theo’s sight, I grab a nearby legal pad and a red marker, slap a “BACK IN 30” sign onto the door, lock it, and slip back outside.
“Come with me,” I tease as I lightly grab his hand, trying to conceal my excitement that I’m not only about to be alone with Theo, but that he’s letting me lead the way. We’re at my place of work. I’m putting the sign on the door. I’m taking control, and he’s loving it. Amused and intrigued, he trails behind me and I lead him into the stockroom. The stockroom that I’ve spent hours sweating in stacking bags of beans. The stockroom where I take milk inventory. The stockroom where the creamer jugs sit idle in the sink, soaking in a chemical bath to clear out any crust from the night before.
With the aroma of coffee beans filling the air, I lock the door and feel Theo come up and stand behind me. I straighten my back as he leans in a bit closer, pushing my dark brown curls out of the way and taking in the smell of my lavender hair oil. He gently plants a long kiss on the nape of my neck and as he does so, he unties my coffee-stained apron and slips off my gray tank top. He takes a moment to let his hands explore the terrain of my chest, tracing up and around my pearlescent lace bra, over the curvature of my DD breasts and across the softness of my abdomen. I reach my right hand up overhead and back around his, slowly scratching my long, teal nails through his hair. We spend a moment here, feeling each others’ bodies heat up, heartbeats quickening with excitement.
With Theo still behind me, I turn my head slightly towards his so that our lips are barely apart. He traces his hand down the front of my torso, unbuttoning the top of my pants, playing with the mauve lace on the front of my thong.
“Is this okay?” He whispers to me. I bite my lip and nod, encouraging him to go on. He takes his hand and slips it down the front of my panties, gently parting my lips and sliding his finger around my vulva. It’s a given that being in such close quarters with Theo would get me wet, but his feeling his strong hands on my skin makes me wetter. He lifts his fingers up to my lips so that I can taste, and licks the rest of me off for himself.
“Mmmm….” he says. “I’ve been dying to taste you for weeks.”
I slowly spin myself around and lock eyes with Theo, before gently slipping my tongue over his lips, trailing light kisses around the sides of his mouth until locking lips entirely, our tongues massaging each others’. His strong hands are getting familiar with my body, and he slides both arms down, scooping me up from my ass and lowering me back down on a stack of burlap bags full of coffee beans. As he readjusts my position, I take in the scenery from a pair of fresh eyes. The coffee beans are fragrant and forgiving under the weight of our bodies, and we hear them sliding and clicking around in the bags as we move, similar to a rain stick. The hum of the dairy fridge is a consistent soundtrack in the background, complimenting his moans of arousal as he continues to kiss and lick me down the length of my stomach.
I glance over at the schedule up on the wall, relishing in the fact that I’ve been scheduled to work alone today, and that I’m going to get paid, to fuck.
He lowers to his knees and sinks back on his heels, slipping off my black trousers and panties, leaving me completely bare from the waist down. With both arms he grabs my legs, placing them on his shoulders and trailing kisses up my thighs. It doesn’t take long for him to dive in, deliberately kissing each and every dip and valley between my thighs.
“Mmmm,” he moans between muffled exhales.
“Make me come, Theo...” I moan back to him.
He begins lightly sucking on my clit, alternating between kissing and fluttering his tongue against it. I can feel my teeth beginning to vibrate, and my leg muscles begin to shake. He continues to moan, and slides his middle and ring fingers inside of me, pressing upwards into my g-spot.
“Ohhh my God…” I stammer as my eyelids flutter. Theo continues rhythmically tonguing my clit and pulsing his fingers, and I grab onto his head of thick, long brown hair with both hands.
I can feel the orgasm building up more and more, bringing me closer to erupting. “Don’t come yet, Lilly,” he says, lifting his head up between my thighs. I don’t think I can hold it back, but he pulls away and unzips his industrious jeans. “Touch yourself,” he commands, as he slips off his pants and t-shirt.
I do as I’m told, touching myself with my left hand and slipping off my bra straps with the right.
As my large, supple breasts reveal themselves to Theo for the first time, he lets out a low growl. The curves under my apron have finally been revealed, and he keeps his eyes locked on me and reaches into his pocket for a Trojan. He holds it up to me for approval, and I nod at him to unwrap it.
I perch myself up on both hands—my legs still spread open—presenting my naked self to Theo. He steps closer and before he slips on the condom, I lean forward and take him in my mouth.
“Oh God,” he sighs. “Ohhh my God.” My tongue slowly traces over every inch of him; the head of his cock, his long, smooth shaft, his balls. He was hard when we started, but now his erection is rock solid and dauntingly big, so much so that I can’t fit him in my mouth anymore.
I spit into my hand one last time and massage the spit onto the tip of his dick, making circular motions all around the head. He lets out a severe moan, to which I respond “Don’t come yet, Theo.”
He smirks and looks me in the eye as I take the condom from his hand and seamlessly slides it down the length of his cock. I back up against the stack of coffee beans again and spread my legs, and he walks forward, guiding himself inside of me. I raise my thighs up around his hips and lower back, and he begins to thrust.
His body is exactly how I imagined, his strong cock filling me up entirely. I tighten around him, pulsing and yearning for more. He reaches both of his arms around my ass and lifts me up around him, making sure to stay inside of me as he does so. I wrap my arms around his neck and proceed to bounce up and down, feeling him slam into me over and over again. He puts me up against the wall and I slowly lower my legs, turn around, and press my hands against the brick as I reverse my ass into him and arch my back. He plants his hands on both sides of my hips and slides into me from behind.
We start off very slow, and gradually increase with speed. He takes his right hand off of my hip and moves it further down onto my clit, massaging it in a delicious circular motion. My body can no longer fight off the orgasm, and neither can Theo’s. As my moans grow louder and louder, his speed quickens and his low growls increase to strong, loud grunts. Two more thrusts and my entire body erupts, coming with pleasure all over him. He is bent over my back, squeezing my breasts and keeling over in ecstasy as I feel his cock pulse, squeezing out the remainder of his orgasm.
As we pause to catch our breath, he slowly inches himself out of me and disposes of the condom, returning his hands to my ass for a squeeze of gratitude and satisfaction.
“That was fun,” I say breathily.
“It was,” he responds in the same tone. He takes one more step toward me and grabs my jaw in his hand.
“Let me know if you’re ever in Kansas,” he says.
Photo by Aviz