To celebrate my freshly shaved pussy, an early Christmas gift for BF, we went to Cally’s, the coffee shop at Sycamore and Sixth Street. It was almost empty, as usual this time of day, and we sat at the two comfy chairs in the alcove and drank hot chocolate, which BF said was fitting because with my bare puss and all it was like I was a little girl again. The hot chocolate was good. “Can I have a muffin?” I asked, and he said, “To replace the muffin you shaved off? I guess so, if you’re a good girl.”

“Oh goodie,” I said, “And while you’re ordering it I’ll go pee.”

“You sure you don’t need any help?” he said.

“No, I’m a big girl now,” I told him.

“But just in case,” he said, and just like I knew he would he followed me into the bathroom, and just like I knew he would, he pulled down my panties, taking my shoes off in the process, and bent me over the sink, lifted my skirt, and fucked me hard from behind. I pushed back and we fucked harder and harder, and when my puss pressed the sink, I kept there and let him ram me again and again until I came.

“How was that for a Big Girl Fuck?” I asked him. “Do I get my muffin now?”

He said, “Look, you got me all messy with your cum,” and sure enough there were stains on the front of his pants. “It’s probably your cum,” I said. He didn’t dispute it, but he wiped it up with my panties and then tossed the panties in the trash.

When we went out, there was an old guy sitting in one of the comfy chairs. I sat in the other one, and BF went to order my muffin. The old guy was reading a book, and BF came back with the muffin and sat on the chair along the opposite wall. He took a bite of the muffin. “Okay, be that way,” I called to him, and he took another bite. The old guy said, “What was that?” and I said, “My boyfriend’s being a pig. He’s eating my muffin.” The old man said, “Oh, that’s a shame.” “Yeah,” I agreed. The old guy asked if he was sitting BF’s chair, and I said, “No, you’re fine.” I asked him if it was a good book. He said he was enjoying it. He said it was really chick-lit which his wife used to read and by reading it, it sort of brought her back to him. “I used to read serious fiction,” he said, “but those days are long gone.” He told me he used to be a mailman, and he’d stop here at Cally’s most mornings before his route but now he made do with afternoons. “Mornings it’s all I can do to shave,” he said. “For all I know I forgot this morning, or only shaved half my face.” “I know what you mean,” I said, though right away I knew that didn’t make any sense. BF had finished the muffin and he got up and went to the counter and a minute later came back with another one and offered it to me. The former mailman said, “Here, why don’t you sit here?” and he got up and BF said thanks and sat down and the former mailman went to the chair across the way where my BF had been sitting. I took a bite of the muffin. It was good. “You’re such a pig,” I said to BF, and I took another bite. Then I glanced at the old man, who was looking at me. He had a kind smile. I thought maybe I should offer him a bite of my muffin, but it was just too good and I gobbled it all up like a little pig. When I looked up again, the old man was still smiling at me, almost transfixed. I lifted my legs up and set my feet on the chair.