Mim’s Cafe

My name is Cindy Mims and I think about sex all the time. Not like a fourteen year old male thinks about it every 8 seconds, but I have a particularly strong libido and I let it get the best of me at every opportunity. I own a small neighborhood café in a little business district in one of the nicer suburbs of Louisville. The benefits of this little shop cannot be over valued. It’s in a row of old brick buildings and has three floors, the first two I use for the café and an office. On the third floor I keep a lovely little efficiency apartment with a small, secluded roof garden patio, which since the weather here is quite mild, I can use pretty much year round. The apartment also has it’s own entrance off the street, as well as a more secluded entrance around back and one in the office. The advantages of all this should be obvious.

Another plus for a woman in my situation is that I’m located near both a small college and one of the high schools. This provides me with both an ample clientele and numerous employees to hand pick. I like to give my shop an air of class and sophistication, and I keep the look updated with continuous improvements and changes, mostly in an art deco theme. I ask my employees to dress a bit nicer than would be the norm, with which I provide them financial assistance if necessary, and I myself usually don nice skirt and blouse, accompanied by nylons and heels. I keep a cute little frilly apron handy behind the counter to keep myself tidy. I do what I can to make sure the beautiful people show up.

I suppose I should elaborate on my looks. I’m 32 years old now, and my once sprightly firm girlish body is easing its way into a fuller frame. I’m not letting myself go mind you; I keep my machine looking and running well with regular exercise, but I’m softening up just a little, and to be honest I really like the change. At 5′ 5″, 135lbs, my thighs are a little more supple, my 36B breasts a bit more of a handful, and my sexy bum a little more round. And trust me I know how to wrap myself in a package anyone would love to unwrap.

I’m naturally brunette, with straight dark brown hair I keep just below my shoulders, but I change this up all the time depending on my whim. I redden it up a bit or bleach it out now and again, then take it back to jet black two weeks later. And I love to capture different personalities with the way I style it. Sometimes I like to keep the classy look of a nice tight bun, or a bit more bouncy curl, other times I’ll make myself more sporty with a pony tail, or playful in barrettes or pigtails. It all depends on how I feel that day, or who I want to be felt by others.

So, back to the café. I must admit that I’m more comfortable surrounding myself with a flock of young ladies, although it’s necessary to have a few strong and eager college boys around to lift the heavy things. As I mentioned, I keep them all dressed well, to the point of my own distraction. It’s been my policy not to get involved with my employees, partly because I don’t want the unnecessary tension that would spring up afterwards, and partly because I don’t want word to get out about my adventurousness. Not that I’m ashamed of it, it’s just that the more narrow-minded in my neighborhood might bring a mob down and close me up. My situation is too good to risk that.

I try my best to keep my hands off all the pretty young things who wander into my shop. I have a gentleman friend of mine who is sympathetic to my needs without wanting to make a fuss over a relationship, and he generally can keep my satisfied. Other times the view gets to be too much for me and I have to run upstairs and pop myself just to get through the day. Actually it happens more often than not, and it’s usually the fault of my young assistant Stephanie.

Steph is a wonderful college senior who’s been with me for three years now. She has long tight curly blonde hair and an athletic 5’8″ body that really turns a head. She’s also a shameless flirt, with everybody. One of her favorite games to play with me is to give me incredibly detailed descriptions of her antics with her boys. I’ve confided enough in her over the years for her to know how riled up it gets me, and I’m sure she does it just to see at which point I have to suddenly “take care of some work in the office.” She always gives me a knowing smile and a wink as I’m distractedly removing my apron and leaving the room.

Last week this kind of got way out of hand. It was a fairly slow Sunday, just a few high school girls giggling in the corner under the guise of doing homework. It was just me and Steph trying to look busy and making the usual post-Saturday night small talk, and it was beginning to get to me.

“So Randy, he’s the track guy, and I had a pretty wild time of it last night. I absolutely tortured him. I had on my little pink mini and a little baby doll tee, and my favorite catch-me-fuck-me shoes. And I told him before we went to the club that he wasn’t going to get a single piece of me unless he was a well-behaved boy. Luckily he knows me well enough now to realize how serious I was, because he did every little thing for me. He was just a prince, and I kept giving him little rewards like rubbing against him on the dance floor, or quick little handies under the table. It was absolutely killing him to watch me bop around in my outfit, and he made no effort to conceal that enormous hard-on of his. God, I couldn’t wait to get it into my mouth.”

This is how she does it. I’m listening to this trying to act casual, meanwhile I’ve leaned back on the counter and started rubbing my thighs together without trying to be obvious about it. Steph of course pretends not to notice, and just goes right on.

“You know what I really like about having his cock in my mouth? It’s so smooth and tasty, and it’s just wide enough to stretch my lips all the way around. And he’s so gentle with me when I do it, he never tries to ram it in. I can take it almost all the way down, but he always lets me decide how far to take it. And it’s so easy to get my whole mouth full of him.”

“I wanna know how to do that!”

We both paused and looked up. One of the girls from the table had come up for more coffee and had apparently been listening to the whole thing. We were both kind of taken aback, and didn’t really say anything at first.