Closing up

Work has been extraordinarily busy as I finish up in London. Back in Boston, the winter semester starts this week. I return a few days late. I am in Paris from Friday to Monday. I desperately want to finish a project before I go, so I work long hours. As my stay winds down, there are logistical annoyances to confront. Though I packed lightly, bringing only two suitcases of clothes and a duffel bag full of shoes with me, in the past months I have accumulated stuff that I want to take back to the US. Packing up, hanging out with friends and saying goodbye, having sex (and writing about it) also occupy my ever diminishing time.

Last week, I spent many hours at the café where Marshall works. I happily typed away amid the noise and the bustle. During his breaks, he would bring me an iced coffee and sit with me. He asked me out on another date last weekend, but sadly I had to turn him down because of prior social commitments. I agreed to see him on Thursday, however.

Yesterday, a friend wasn’t feeling well and bailed on a dinner engagement. I had already accomplished more during the day than I had any right to expect, and I knew that Marshall had the last shift, so I stopped by the café, where I worked some more and answered e-mails. An hour before the place closed, I sent Marshall a pair of texts. He caught my eye. I smiled.

Only one other employee worked there in the evening, and I am reasonably certain Marshall convinced his colleague to leave early. He did the final cleaning and locked up for the night.

With the door shut and the room darkened, he and I had sex in the empty café. I loosened the tie on his apron to show the front of his jeans and descended to my knees. The chairs in the café are wooden, painted white, with vertical slats in the back. He turned one in reverse and sat straddling the back of the seat. His cock squeezed between two of the slats. I gripped the top of the chair, met his eyes, and sucked his penis wetly and without hands.

Marshall’s cock is long and thick. I have only been able to deepthroat him with my head dangling from the edge of the mattress. When I do so, his balls press up against my nose. I revel in the heady, male musk.

In the café, I easily quaffed the quantity of the cock that extended through the chair. I gripped the bars at the far sides. I loved the moans, which originated deep within his chest when I rotated my face. Going down, my nose poked through the gap in the wood. The butt of my hand had shuffled to the top of his thigh. Arms wrapping the chair, he stroked my hair and sloped my head so that I had to look up at him. Marshall groaned when I made my lips soft, flooded my mouth with spit, and washed my tongue over the knob. My hands nudged into the rectangular spaces on either side of the hole into which he had inserted his cock. I locked fingers over the shaft and angled the penis into my mouth. The groin receded and advanced while I sucked. The vision of his sac on the other side of the wooden bars made me salivate. The balls sat on the chair, tantalizingly beyond my reach. When he pulled the cock free from my lips, it made a delicious pop.

He didn’t want to come from oral sex. We fucked on a wooden table in the middle of the café. The lights were off, but we should have been visible through plate glass windows as silhouettes moving in the dark with unmistakable purpose. I was on my back with my denim skirt inverted. He dragged me to the edge of the table and butterflied my thighs open and crammed himself into my pussy. He fucked me hard. I came after we changed positions. I was on my side, a foot planted on the floor, a knee on the table. He gripped my ass and prodded my cunt from the rear, passing through my orgasm into his own.

He wiped the table and disappeared into the kitchen to finish in there. We left after half an hour. Marshall spent the night at my flat. We intend to meet up on Thursday as well. Today, I have Amadeo at night and much to do before then.