Hey Bro

I think I met someone. Her name is Julie. She works at the coffee place just off Green, the one you recommended—I think you took me there last time you were here, but she didn’t work there then. She is so hot. I could hardly stand to look at her, you know, like paralyzingly hot. When it was my turn at the counter I didn’t know what to order. “Um, um...” I said, “um what’s good?” Can you believe it? She said, “Well, you want to try the special?” I asked what that was, and she said, “Pink Ice Mocha.” I thought maybe she was teasing, so I said, “Sure, give me a pink ice mocha,” even though I had no idea what that was. While she was making it, she said, “I invented this.” I think it was basically coffee or espresso and crushed ice and some chocolate syrup and some other kind of syrup. But you don’t want to hear about the pink mocha, you want to hear about the girl.

She was so hot, I mean literally, like her skin was flushed and beads of sweat were on her skin, like she’d just been having non-stop sex for an hour—that kind of hot. And she has kind of this blondish coppery hair, cut short, and creamy skin, and the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen, kind of medium size but pear shaped. She was wearing this lacy apron type top and no bra, and with the strong lights over the counter I could see her nipples practically poking through the lace. Big nipples, the kind that rise up begging to be sucked. I mean she might as well not have been wearing anything else.

Oh, and when she made the drink, she held the frosted glass real close to her chest. I swear she pressed it right against her tits, right against her nipples, as she carefully let this pink syrup stuff ooze out of the bottle. It was one of those long thin bottles with the long thin necks, and I couldn’t help thinking how great it would be to press the opening of the bottle onto one of her nipples. It looked like it would be a perfect fit. And then pull it off, and maybe there’d be some suction, a cute little pop. That’s what I wanted to do.

So she handed me the drink, and she smiled at me, sort of a grinning smile, and she asked if there would be anything else, and I didn’t know what to say. “Um, um.” And she said, “Well, if you think of anything you let me know.”

So I sat at a table in the corner where I could see her behind the counter, and I tried the Pink Mocha. It was really good—maybe a little sweeter than I’d normally like, but while I was sipping it I kept thinking about her breasts rubbing against the glass and I kept imagining I was sucking her tits, and I was thinking—well, we won’t go into that. Pretty soon I was sweating. And the next thing I know, the Pink Mocha is gone, just some shaved ice in the bottom of the glass, faintly pink.

I took a few deep breaths and gathered all my courage and took my empty glass back up to the counter. “How was it?” she asked, and I said it was great, so great that I might like another. “Sure,” she said, and she took my old glass, but she put that under the counter and got a new glass. Just as she was about to start making it, I said, “Do you mind if I take a picture of you making it?” She said she guessed not, and so while she was letting the pink stuff ooze into the glass I took a picture with my cell phone.

When she was done making the drink, she asked, “How did it turn out?” At first I thought she meant the drink, and I said, “I’m sure it’s great,” and she said, “No, the picture,” and I said, “Oh, it turned out great!” and I showed it to her. She leaned over the counter and held my hand with the phone in right against her breast, right against her nipple, so I could actually feel her nipple against the back of my hand. She looked at the picture a long time. I wouldn’t have minded if she looked at it all night, but another customer came up behind me. “Cool,” she said, handing me back my phone, and I asked if she wanted me to send her a copy. “That would be great,” she said, and she gave me her number and said she was Julie, by the way.

I took the drink back to the table, and I tried to make it last as long as possible. I guess I didn’t think it would be appropriate to order a third one, don’t ask me why. But pretty soon there was just the pink slush in the bottom of the glass. I let it melt and then, feeling kind of sad, I drank it down. Now the place was pretty empty, but I waited until there was no one else at the counter, and then I went up again with my empty glass. “That was really good,” I told Julie. “You should patent it or something.”

She smiled that grinning smile and said, “You think so?” I said I did, I really did. Then she said, “You know, there’s a way it’s even better.” I said, “Really, I can’t imagine it being any better.” She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and then she said, “Oh yes, way way better, and if you’re interested, you can come over to my place later tonight, if you’re not busy or anything.” I told her I’d love to, and she told me where she lived—in those apartments out past the cemetery.

So in about twenty minutes I’m going to head over there. I guess I’m a little nervous. And very excited.

Kyle

Kev,

You little brother was so sweet! Don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything, just like I promised. I got to my sister’s place a few minutes before Kyle arrived. He and I walked in together almost like old pals. He was so completely smitten, I just about wanted to eat him all up.

“So you want to try the extra, extra special pink ice mocha?” I teased him. He wanted to know if he could help, and I said, “No, no, I’ll take care of everything, you just sit right here and make yourself extra, extra comfy,” and I kicked off my shoes and slipped into the kitchen to fix up the coffee.

“Aren’t you having any?” he asked when I came out and set the steaming cup on the little table. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that he wasn’t naked, though I know you would have been.

“Don’t worry, we’ll share,” I said. “You’ll see. I’ll be back in a sex. I mean sec.” Then I hurried back into the kitchen and returned a moment later with the almost empty bottle of raspberry syrup and a small bucket of ice. I set the bucket and the bottle on the little table next to the coffee, which he hadn’t touched, and then I sat back on the chair. “So you’re ready for my extra special pink ice mocha?”

He nodded. “But you left out an extra,” he said.

“That’s right,” I said, “extra extra! I’m so glad you’re paying attention. I bet you got all A’s in school unlike...” I almost slipped and said “your twin brother,” but I recovered just in time. “Unlike me,” I said, “and far be it from me to deprive you of a single extra, not on your life.”

He smiled, a sort of embarrassed smile. Gosh, Kev, in some ways he’s so different from you, even if you look exactly alike. I wonder how that could be.

Anyway, I told him the first thing was the ice. “I don’t have an ice crusher,” I said, but these mini cubes will do fine,” and I fished one out of the silver bucket while in almost the same motion I pulled up my top. His eyes went wide. I knew he didn’t know whether to look at my nipples, which were jutting out, already aroused, or my eyes, or whether the only polite thing to do would be to close his eyes and pretend he was safe and sound in his own little beddie-bye. Did you and he share the same room when you were kids? Did you ever sleep together? I don’t mean that way, of course. Get your mind out of the gutter.