Young & Old | Fiction | Exhibitionist
Amber: A Young Coffee Shop Clerk on a Mission to Service Cocks, not Just Serve Coffee
Coffee is the old man’s addiction. His old cock is her obsession.
I write erotica novels & short stories. I also publish sex confessions as a spermivore, spermaholic, and teen slut. Yes, teen slut! And I’m proud of it! Sex is good, and girls who love sex shouldn’t have to hide and pretend to be “pure.” Sex is pure! And naked skin is natural.
Amber’s days were filled with the repetitive tasks of brewing coffee, wiping down tables, and serving customers who often barely noticed her existence. But Amber had a secret desire, an intense craving for worshipping old men’s penises that consumed her thoughts and drove her actions.
As she went about her daily routine, Amber couldn’t help but envision herself on her knees, obediently submitting to the raw desires of her elderly patrons, their wrinkled hands guiding her mouth to their throbbing cocks. She would smile seductively at them, giving them a glimpse of the submissive woman hidden behind her unassuming exterior.
“Hey there, Mr. Jenkins,” she would coo, bending over just enough to showcase her ample cleavage as she served him his morning coffee. “I hope you enjoy your drink.” The flirtatious tone in her voice was her way of signaling her hidden desires to those who would be receptive to her advances.
Her clothes, already tight against her perky breasts and round ass, were adjusted to expose even more of her tempting young high school girl body. Amber would unbutton her blouse just a bit further, revealing the soft mounds of her tits and proving she wasn’t one to wear a bra or panties. She loved the feeling of eyes on her, devouring her naked flesh, knowing full well that their lust reached from their mind to groin.
The attention she garnered from these acts only fueled her fantasies later that night. As she lay in bed, fingers buried deep within her wet cunt, Amber would imagine herself on display for all the elderly men in the coffee shop — a piece of meat to be used for their pleasure. She’d picture herself stripping off her work clothes, offering her tender body to their eager hands and mouths, every inch of her skin worshipped like the holy temple she desired to be.
But soon, those fantasies weren’t enough anymore. She felt her body heat up as she caressed her wetness and envisioned older men taking pleasure in punishing her with spankings and brutal whipping until she was brought to her knees in submission. Her young frame screamed out in pain as her delicate skin blazed a deep red from the onslaught.
“Fuck, I need this,” she would whisper, biting her lip as her fingers plunged deeper inside her, the thought of cocks filling her every orifice driving her wild with need. In her mind, she was no longer just Amber, the coffee shop worker; she was a willing vessel for the desires of these older men, a receptacle for their pent-up lust.
Her body trembled with anticipation as she imagined herself kneeling before them, surrounded by a sea of wrinkled flesh and aching erections. One by one, she would take their thick, experienced, veiny cocks into her mouth, working her tongue around their swollen heads before greedily swallowing them whole and gagging for their entertainment.
“God, yes,” she moaned, her own orgasm building within her as she envisioned each old man, in turn, thrusting his hips forward to bury his cock down her throat. And as they fucked her face without mercy, she knew that this was her true purpose — to be a submissive slut for the pleasure of her elderly gods.
Amber’s work responsibilities were nothing extraordinary, but they provided her with the opportunity to indulge in her deepest desire. Although she restrained herself from explicit sexual content during her shifts, she couldn’t help but expose her body as much as possible, flaunting as much of her nudity as possible to those who caught her eye.
One day, George Thompson, a man in his late 60s, entered the coffee shop. He was a regular customer, always impeccably dressed and well-groomed. His salt-and-pepper hair framed a strong, chiseled face, and his piercing gaze seemed to bore into Amber’s very soul. George carried himself with a confident posture, exuding authority and power that made Amber’s heart race with excitement.
“Morning, Amber,” George said, his deep voice rumbling through the small coffee shop.
“Good morning, Mr. Thompson,” Amber replied with a seductive smile, feeling a familiar tingling sensation between her legs as her eyes locked onto his intense stare.
“Your usual today?” She asked, already knowing the answer.
“Of course, my dear,” George responded, his lips curling into a knowing smirk.
As Amber prepared his order, she couldn’t help but feel a magnetic pull toward this older man. Each time he visited the cafe, their conversations grew deeper and more personal, forging a quasi-friendship that further fueled Amber’s cravings for worshipping his cock. She fantasized about the moment she could finally submit herself to him, kneeling before him like a devoted servant, ready to offer her mouth and body for his pleasure. “Here you go, Mr. Thompson,” Amber said, handing him his cup of coffee with a sultry smile.
“Thank you, Amber,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her exposed cleavage for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “You always know how to make my mornings brighter.”
“Anytime, Mr. Thompson,” she whispered, biting her lip seductively as she felt her nipples harden beneath her thin blouse.
In the privacy of her thoughts, Amber imagined George’s experienced hands exploring every inch of her body, his fingers tracing her curves and valleys, igniting her senses like wildfire. She envisioned his aged cock standing proudly before her, thick and veiny, begging for her worship. Her mouth watered at the thought of wrapping her lips around his shaft, taking him deep into her throat, and showing him just how much she adored his divine manhood.
“See you tomorrow, Amber,” George said, breaking her reverie as he headed for the door.
“Can’t wait, Mr. Thompson,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes never leaving his retreating form.
And as the door closed behind him, Amber knew with certainty that her craving for worshipping old men’s penises had only intensified. She longed for the day when she could finally submit herself completely to George, allowing him to use and degrade her in any way he desired — all for the sake of fulfilling her insatiable lust for old cocks.
Days went by, and Amber’s obsession with pleasing George grew stronger. Each morning, she anticipated his arrival, yearning for the moment he would walk through the door. As soon as she saw him approaching, her heart raced in anticipation, and she made a mental checklist of every detail to ensure perfection.
“Good morning, Mr. Thompson,” Amber purred, her voice sultry and inviting. “Your usual black coffee?”
“Morning, Amber,” George replied, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. “Yes, thank you.”
As Amber prepared his order, she couldn’t help but steal glances at him, admiring the way his strong shoulders filled out his suit jacket, the salt-and-pepper stubble that adorned his chiseled jaw, and the piercing gaze that seemed to penetrate her very soul. She longed to be on her knees before him, worshipping his aged cock like the deity it was in her fantasies. “Here you go, Mr. Thompson,” Amber said, handing him the steaming cup of coffee. “Just the way you like it.”
“Thank you, Amber,” he replied, his eyes momentarily lingering on her exposed cleavage as she leaned over the counter.
Amber’s delicious tease wasn’t reserved just for George. It was something she did with all the old men who frequented the coffee shop. She reveled in their hungry stares as they ogled her young high school-girl body, knowing full well the effect she had on them. Her tight shirts accentuated her perky breasts, while her short skirts left little to the imagination. She’d often bend over provocatively, giving them a glimpse of her firm ass, the curve of her hip, or the baldness of her pussy.
“Can I get you something else, sir?” Amber asked one of the elderly patrons, deliberately brushing her hand against his as she refilled his coffee. “Uh, no, thank you,” the old man stammered, his eyes locked on her chest. “Let me know if you change your mind,” she replied with a coy smile, relishing the power her youthful body held over him. In her mind, these men were mere stepping stones in her quest to submit herself fully to George.
As the days turned into weeks, Amber’s flirtatious dance with George continued. Her conversations with him became more intimate as she shared stories about her life and listened intently to his tales of wisdom and experience. Each time she spoke to him, she imagined her lips wrapped around his cock, whispering words of devotion and adoration between each slow, deliberate stroke.
“Have a great day, Daddy,” Amber said one morning, her hand lingering on his for just a second longer than necessary.
“Daddy? Thank you, Amber,” he replied, his gaze unwavering as his fingers brushed against hers. “You too.”
In those quiet moments when they touched, Amber felt as though she was getting closer to her ultimate goal. She knew that soon, she would no longer be able to resist the urge to worship George’s cock, and she prayed that he would want her just as much as she wanted him.
Amber’s insatiable craving for worshipping old men’s cocks drove her to take even more risks with the customers. One day, as a group of elderly gentlemen sipped their coffee and chatted idly, Amber felt a burning desire to push her flirtation further. Seizing an opportunity, she approached their table, feigning concern for the temperature in the room.
“Is it too warm in here for you, gentlemen?” she asked innocently, fanning herself with her hand.
The men exchanged glances before one of them replied, “A little, perhaps.” “Let me open some windows,” Amber suggested, moving towards the nearest window and deliberately turning her back to the group. With her heart pounding in her chest, she undid the buttons of her blouse, allowing the fabric to part and reveal her young bare breasts beneath.
Her nipples hardened in the cool breeze, and she turned back to face the men, pretending not to notice her exposed flesh. “There, that should help,” she said sweetly, walking back to the table and bending over to pick up an empty cup, ensuring the best possible view of her young, pert tits. “Goodness, Amber,” one man stuttered, his eyes glued to her exposed chest. “Your shirt…”
“Oops!” she exclaimed, feigning surprise. “How embarrassing! I must’ve accidentally unbuttoned it while opening the window.” She slowly re-secured her blouse, drawing out the moment for as long as possible. The men stared, captivated by the sight of her creamy, naked breasts being gradually hidden from view.
Over the following days, Amber found herself addicted to the thrill of revealing more of her body to the older patrons. Each time, she found new excuses to expose herself. While reaching for a high shelf, she would stretch her arms upward, causing her shirt to ride up and expose the soft curve of her underboob. Or she would drop a pen, bending over in front of an elderly gentleman to retrieve it, treating him to the enticing sight of her cleavage.
“Would you mind passing me that sugar packet?” one old man asked, his voice quivering with anticipation.
“Of course,” Amber replied, feigning clumsiness as she reached across the table. She let her blouse gape open, giving him a clear view of her nipples resting on her full, luscious tits. “Sorry, I’m such a klutz today,” she said with a coy smile, knowing full well the effect her naked flesh was having on the man.
As the days wore on, Amber’s addiction to exposing herself to these men only grew stronger. Yet, deep down, she knew it was George she truly craved, the thought of worshipping his aged cock consuming her every waking moment. This dangerous game she played with the other patrons only served to fuel her desire for him, bringing her ever closer to the day she would finally submit herself fully to his power and experience.
Over the next few weeks, Amber and George’s quasi-friendship grew stronger, as did her growing obsession with exposing her young, nubile body to the older men who frequented the coffee shop. Each day, she found new ways to tease them, pushing the boundaries of what was considered acceptable behavior in a public place.
“Hey, George,” Amber said one morning, leaning over the counter to give him a clear view of her ample cleavage. “Did you hear about the man who got caught stealing calendars? He got twelve months!”
George chuckled at the crude joke, his eyes lingering on Amber’s breasts. “You always have the best jokes, Amber. Keep ’em coming.”
As they engaged in more conversations, Amber discovered that George had traveled extensively during his youth. He regaled her with stories of his adventures, each tale filled with vivid descriptions that made her feel like she was right there with him. On slow days, she would sit down with him for a chat, eagerly listening to his tales while absently tracing circles around her nipples through her thin blouse.
“Isn’t it strange?” Amber thought to herself as she wiped down the counter, reflecting on her growing attraction to George. “He’s old enough to be my grandfather, yet I can’t help but crave the touch of his wrinkled hands all over my body.” Her thoughts were consumed by the desire to worship his aged cock, an urge that only intensified as their friendship deepened. One day, Amber invited George to join her for lunch after her morning shift, feeling bold enough to take their relationship outside the confines of the coffee shop. As they sat together in a secluded corner of a nearby restaurant’s terrace, she couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel to have his experienced mouth on her young, firm tits.
“Amber, are you alright?” George asked, noticing her flushed cheeks and the way she fidgeted in her seat.
“Sorry, I was just… thinking about something,” she stammered, struggling to keep her composure. “You were saying?”
“Ah, yes,” George continued, launching into another tale from his travels. Amber hung on his every word, her mind racing with fantasies of submitting to him and offering her body as a temple for his pleasure. Certainly, she was a bad girl enough to deserve a naked spanking from Daddy!
As the weeks passed, Amber’s attraction to George only grew stronger. She found herself daydreaming about him during her shifts, stealing glances at his crotch while she served him coffee, wondering what it would be like to have his thick, aged cock in her mouth, filling her throat as she worshipped him on her knees.
“Amber,” George said one day, catching her gaze as it lingered on his groin. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Uh, no, nothing at all,” she replied hastily, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She couldn’t believe she had been so careless, allowing her desires to show so blatantly. What if he knew the depths of her depravity? The thought was both terrifying and thrilling.
“Alright then,” George replied, giving her a knowing smile that sent shivers down her spine. “If you ever need someone to talk to, or whatever, you know where to find me.”
“Thank you, George,” Amber whispered, feeling a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. Part of her wanted him to call her out on her desires, to force her to confess her lustful thoughts and submit to his dominance. But for now, their quasi-friendship remained intact, leaving her free to explore the depths of her craving for worshipping old men’s penises in secret.
That night, Amber lay in her bed, her body thrumming with desire as the image of George’s knowing smile replayed in her mind. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to submit to him completely, to let him use her mouth and body for his pleasure, to worship his aged cock as though it were a god, to be whipped into submission by Daddy. Her hand slipped beneath the sheets, trailing down her soft belly until her fingers found the slick heat between her legs.
“George,” she moaned, imagining herself on her knees before him, his cock so close to her face that she could smell its musky scent and feel the warmth radiating from it. She licked her lips, picturing how it would taste, salty and bitter and utterly perfect. As she began to rub her clit, she imagined George’s deep voice commanding her to suck him, to take his entire length into her throat.
Her breathing grew ragged as her fingers moved almost of their own accord, inventing new and daring ways to drive George wild. She imagined the hard lines of his manhood pushing against her tongue, the tantalizing veins bulging with intensity as she sucked harder. His pubic hair scratched at her nose, and his heavy testicles pressed into her chin until it was impossible for her to breathe. She felt like a marionette on strings, but the pleasure that surged through her gave her strength, and she threw her head back, giving a loud moan as George violently pulled on her hair. Amber’s breathing grew ragged, her body trembling as she brought herself closer to orgasm, the fantasy of worshipping George’s old cock consuming her thoughts. The room was filled with the sounds of her moans and the wet squelching of her fingers working her pussy, desperate to reach the peak of pleasure.
As she convulsed in ecstasy, she pictured George’s eyes boring into hers, his satisfaction at her submission evident in his gaze. “Good girl,” she imagined him saying, stroking her hair as she knelt before him, her face smeared with his seed. The thought sent her spiraling over the edge, her body shaking as waves of pleasure washed over her.
The next morning, Amber returned to the coffee shop, the scent of fresh coffee and pastries mingling with the lingering aroma of her lust-filled night. The familiar hum of conversation and clinking cups filled her ears as she began her day, a renewed determination to catch George’s attention driving her every move.
As she took orders and prepared drinks, she couldn’t help but notice the way each male customer’s eyes lingered on her body, their gazes hungry and possessive. She knew they could sense her newfound confidence, the raw sexual energy that crackled beneath her skin like electricity. “Here’s your latte, sir,” Amber said, her voice breathy and seductive as she leaned over the counter, giving the older man in front of her a clear view of her cleavage. She held his gaze, daring him to look away, to resist the temptation she offered so brazenly.
“Thank you, Amber,” he replied, his voice trembling as he accepted the drink, his eyes never leaving hers. “You’re something else.”
“Am I?” she asked innocently, a wicked grin playing at the corners of her mouth. She knew exactly what she was doing and how her actions affected those around her, but she couldn’t help herself. The power she felt, the control she wielded over these men, was intoxicating.
“Definitely,” he murmured, taking a sip of his latte before turning to leave, his eyes lingering on her body one final time. Amber watched him go, feeling a thrill of satisfaction course through her veins.
Night had fallen, and Amber lay in her bed, her fingers gently stroking the delicate folds between her legs. She could still smell the rich, earthy scent of coffee that clung to her skin, a constant reminder of her mundane existence. Her mind, however, was anything but ordinary as she envisioned George’s wrinkled face, his piercing eyes staring down at her as she knelt before him naked.
“Tell me what you want,” George commanded, his deep voice echoing through her fantasies. Amber’s arousal spiked as she imagined herself on her knees, looking up at him with pure adoration.
“Please, let me worship your cock,” Amber begged, her voice barely more than a whisper, as if she knew it was wrong but couldn’t resist the allure. Her fingers danced over her clit, teasing herself with short, quick strokes. “Good girl,” George praised, and she could almost feel his warm breath against her skin, making her shiver with anticipation. In her fantasy, he slowly unzipped his pants, revealing his thick, throbbing cock, its veins prominent and pulsing with need. The sight of it sent a wave of hunger through her body, her pussy aching for satisfaction.
Amber’s hand moved faster now, her fingers sliding into her wetness as she imagined wrapping her lips around George’s length, tasting his salty pre-cum on her tongue. As she sucked him in deeper, her gag reflex tested, she reveled in the power she held over this older man — a power that drove her wild in ways she could never have imagined.
“Fuck my throat,” she choked out between gasps, desperate to prove her devotion to his pleasure. George gripped a handful of her hair, forcing himself deeper into her mouth until she felt her world go dark, suffocating in the most intoxicating way.
“Take it, you little slut,” George growled as he fucked her face mercilessly, his balls slapping against her chin. Amber’s pussy clenched around her fingers, the brutal imagery driving her closer to the edge.
“Please, Daddy, may I come?” she whimpered, her throat raw and sore from the relentless assault. The sound of his laughter filled her ears, cruel and mocking.
“Come for me,” he finally allowed, and Amber’s body obeyed, convulsing in waves of pleasure as she imagined herself choking on George’s seed, her entire existence reduced to serving his primal desires. As her climax subsided, she lay there trembling, the lingering scent of coffee a stark contrast to the vivid world of lust and submission that had just consumed her.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered into the darkness, her voice a mixture of satisfaction and shame. She knew that tomorrow at the coffee shop, when she looked into George’s eyes, she would see him differently — not just as a customer, but as the Master of her darkest fantasies. And deep down, she couldn’t wait to take the next step and offer herself as the willing sacrifice on the altar of his pleasure.
What do you think Amber will do next? Find out for yourself here:
Catch up on the first part of Amber’s adventures here:
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