Chapter 14: Coffee Place

"Please do," Jemma says.

"You may certainly cum all over my face," Rachel agrees, and the two women go cheek to cheek as they jerk my cock off to completion right before their faces.

It's so insane to think that they're just accepting this, but I'm not going to question this any more, just taking my pleasure where I get it while they happily beg for my spunk.

My cock erupts, and soon enough I'm spraying down on both of their faces with an ample load of cum that they take with a soft smile, happily accepting the spunk all over their faces, seemingly intent on wearing it given the way they draw back from another.

"The two of you should take your friendship and get fucked together," I advise them, tucking my dick away rather nonchalantly and shrugging it off.

They look at each other in seeming agreement, rising to their feet and walking away with the intent on planning that out.

Christine claps as she slumps back in her seat, her chest rising and falling with the telltale quickness of someone who just got off hard.

"You're the kindest man I've ever met!" she gasps. "Truly, you are destined for sainthood."

I shrug and brush off her teasing. "You sound like you want me to facefuck you again so you can shut up," I retorted.

"I can say with absolute certainty that I don't want you to not facefuck me." She bites her lip, playing coy and delighted as she remains my only connection to sanity, and what a fucking connection that is; can you even call what she's doing sanity?

"Well fine, if you're going to reveal you're trying to get me to, I won't." I take out my phone and shrug, ringing up Rose's personal number.

"Hey, Rose, it's me. Do you want to go on break now and head to the coffee place across the street?"

"I'd love to, just give me a few minutes to get this work done." I can hear her typing over the phone as she works, like a sucker who can't control the world around her.

"Sounds great. I'll head over and get us a table, you just come meet me down there when you're ready." I hang up and look toward Christine, who is all eye rolls as she leans back in her chair and pouts.

"Want to find out how good the coffee really is? I was a bit too nervous when you were giving me a titfuck to say much, but it really is good coffee place."

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The Grind House is as quaint and quirky a local coffee shop as they come, and there are two good reasons to make the trip down from the sixth floor of my office building to across the street to come get it.

One is the coffee genuinely being worlds better than the crap you get at the office, and the other is a red-haired ball of sunshine known as Tierra, the gorgeous barista whose father runs the joint and who works tirelessly every day to tend to the place with an ever rotating band of college kids and a couple near-retirement old folks who help keep up with the demand and business, as any downtown coffee shop is going to be bustling at midday.

And bustle The Grind House does. It's already decently full, with plenty of people from the various floors of my building and people from off the street enjoying a cup of coffee or some of their freshly made baked goods.

It has a warmth and atmosphere that feels friendly and distinctly local, something that the big chains don't have, all without feeling too overtly hipster-ey or leaving too elitist an air about it.

It's just a nice little local joint owned by a family that makes sure their customers are happy, and I'm more than happy to keep coming by for the good food and good coffee in the name of supporting that.

And in the name of seeing Tierra some more.

Tierra has her red hair tied up in a loose ponytail behind her back, smiling brightly as I walk in and she wipes some condensation off onto the apron she wears over her t-shirt and jeans.

"You're down early," she says with a smile, bringing the kind of customer service I really only get at the small places. "Will it be the usual order?"

"Two of them, trying to get a new friend to see the light of this place. I'll take two of the usual, a blueberry muffin, and a handjob at the table while I eat."

"Sounds good!" Tierra says, nodding in acceptance. "I'll be right with you."

"And that's why I like this place; you understand customer service, and a know a good handy with my order is just offering a good product." I smirk and pay for my order, and take my seat down at the table.

"It really is that easy, isn't it?" I ask Christine. "God, this all still feels a little bit like a dream, honestly. I don't know what to make of it."

"It's actually easier than you think it is; the things you make people do are reflecting back on the world. Things like suggesting that super tight sweaters that hug a woman's breasts are a fashion that should catch on, or say that good customer service involves giving you a handjob after you order, you're actually feeding into the world and effecting it in a very powerful way. I told you; your decisions shape the world, and if you say something should happen, it will generally happen."

"Is that supposed to be a bad thing?" I ask, sitting across from my cum-covered new friend, who sits nonchalantly with her facials still lingering.

"Not in the fucking least," she scoffs. "You're making the world you want to make, and it's only going to get better as you twist it around to suit whatever you want it to. Just be careful; the universe doesn't understand sarcasm, and you don't want to influence it in ways you don't like."

There's nothing to dislike about a cute redhead bringing me a steaming cup of coffee though, and as Tierra walks over with the tray of coffees and my muffin I reach around to give her perky butt a nice squeeze.

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