For Coffee

-- by Mako Allen

-- art by Jenn Solo

Beth was checking her teeth for lipstick marks when she saw the motorcycle pull into the Brambles Coffee parking lot.  That was definitely her.  She watched in  the rearview mirror as Nancy pulled into an open space.  The lithe little woman took off the big chunky silver helmet, and ran a hand through her short cropped red hair.  Nancy took in the leather jacket, the stompy looking black boots, and the so-tight-they-looked-almost-painted-on jeans that gripped her little ass so delectably.


She certainly wasn’t wearing a diaper under those, Beth thought, and felt a pleasant little throb down below.  She got out of the van, locking it, and smoothed the front of her cardigan, tugging it down a bit.

Unbelievable, she thought, as she waved at the woman.  The things you don’t know about people.  She imagined Nancy must have been thinking the same thing  about her, as she strode over, helmet in hand.

“Good morning,” Nancy said, her face split with a wide grin, her blue eyes sparkling.


Beth hugged her, something she had done dozens of times before.  But now she found herself wanting to also run her hand down Nancy’s back, to grab her ass.  Instead, she let go, and held the door for her.  “Good morning yourself,” she said.  At the counter, Beth ordered a cafe au lait, and asked Nancy what she was having.  

“Oh, thank you Beth, that’s very kind.”  She ordered a hot chocolate.

That made Beth smirk a bit, a look she still had on her face when they sat down. 

“What?” Nancy asked, as she sipped from her big mug.

“Oh the cocoa just made me smile,” she said, “given how I saw you dressed the other night, it seems rather appropriate.  It’s not exactly a ‘big girl’ drink is it?”

Nancy blushed scarlet, several shades lighter than her hair, but red all the same.  She inhaled sharply, closing her eyes, and breathing through it.

Beth found it made her heart thump a bit.

“Not this stuff,” Nancy protested, taking a sip from it.  “It’s different.  It’s very um… adult.  I don’t know exactly what they put in it, but it gives me a bit of a buzz.  It’s rich, and thick, and sweet, and just makes me all gooey inside.”  She hid behind her cup.  Under the table, Beth felt the top of Nancy’s boot brush against the back of her calf.

Beth grinned at the little flirt, wolfishly.

“That’s not the only thing that makes you all gooey inside, Nancy,” Beth observed.

Nancy grinned back, her smile even wider then Beth’s.  It looked paradoxically predatory yet inviting.  Beth reached across the table and took Nancy’s hand in her own, in a loose grip.

“No, it’s not,” Nancy said, quietly.

“Tell me about it,” Beth said.  

“Well, what do you want to know?”  

“First, who was that man,” Beth said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “the one who spanked you?”

Nancy gestured with her mug, waving it a bit before taking another hit off it.  “That’s my friend Wallace,” she said.  “He’s the one who got me drinking this stuff, actually.”

“And he’s your ‘friend’?” Beth asked.  

Nancy nodded.  “Yeah, but just a friend.  We… like a lot of the same stuff.”

Beth slipped her foot out of her shoe, and rubbed it against the back of Nancy’s leg now.  “Like spanking… and diapers.” she said, in a low contralto.

“Do you play with Wallace a lot?” she asked.

Nancy shrugged noncommittally.  “We’re not like a THING.  He’s married to a very nice man, and they have this boyfriend.  They’re busy.  Plus, he likes me a lot, and we do have fun, but I’m not really his type.  He’s gay.”

“But obviously that doesn’t stop you guys from playing,” Beth said.

“Sure,” Nancy said.  “A lot of what I like, what we like, isn’t about gender, and is good and intimate all on its own.  But the stuff we do, it’s casual, kind of, I don’t know, ‘pretend’.  Wallace can’t really go the places I most want.  That’s not his fault though.”

“What places?” Beth asked.

Nancy sipped at her hot chocolate.  “Dark ones.”  She toyed with her cup, biting her lip.  “I want to be punished, taken advantage of, by someone who takes care of me.”

“Toyed with?” Beth asked.  Beth sipped her coffee as the younger woman explained.

“What really makes it good for me is getting caught, scolded,” she shivered, “dealt with.”

Beth nodded. She gave Nancy her best mom-glare across the rim of her cup.

“Are your panties dry?”


Suddenly, Beth felt absolutely enormous.  Across the table, the shorter, smaller woman looked positively tiny.  Beth imagined picking her up in her arms, cupping her between her legs, and carrying her to the bathroom to ravage her.  


She’d push her hands down the front of Nancy’s jeans, and slip her fingers into her little slit, while she kissed her on the mouth, pressed against the bathroom wall.

She stared fiercely at Nancy.

The little red haired woman writhed in her seat. Suddenly Nancy’s leather jacket, and butch cropped hair looked like just so much costuming.  Her tough veneer crumbled.

Beth’s pussy got wet as her mouth went dry. 

“Let’s go check those panties of yours.”

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