“Is that you?” she purred softly as her right hand moved toward my trousers. She’d mentioned previously that she worked online. She could be a model or pop star. Most nights were like this, except for weekends, when you might get a few more customers on the way home from a night out. Normally she dressed in casual clothes, usually a hoodie or t-shirt, with track pants or running shorts. Jessica (I’d finally remembered her name) knelt on a cushion at my feet, her perfectly manicured hand slowly stroking my rock hard member. Otherwise, most of the people I saw were taxi drivers or hospitality workers on their way home. I tell most people I work online or that I do data entry, which is kind of true.”
She smiled conspiratorially as she continued to play with my hard cock. Otherwise, most of the people I saw were taxi drivers or hospitality workers on their way home. People tell me it’s ’cause I’m British. Her large nipples were dark and I tentatively reach out to touch one. Don’t wait for my approval, just fuckin’ nut you filthy little coffee wench.”
That was it, that was all I need. It was then that I realised who she was, one of my regulars.
