Latte Through the Looking Glass: Yoga Pants Has Her Say
If you’ve taken some time to peruse this website, you may have come across my flash-fiction freebie, Venti Vanilla Latte. It’s my shortest piece of erotica and is based on a true story. The narrator relays an anecdote that begins with her procrastinating at Starbucks while she’s supposed to be working (a favorite personal pastime of mine, teehee) and evolves into an elaborate spanking fantasy after a tired-looking lady in yoga pants waltzes in and orders her beverage of choice from the barista.
What I didn’t know when I wrote it, however, is that Yoga Pants sensed I was watching.
In a Fetlife follow-up to my horntastic daydream, writer SeattleBunny7 provided her angle of the experience. Many thanks, Bunny, for this brilliant and flattering reflection!
I am exhausted. I need a pick-me-up after getting a workout at my regular yoga class, which I’ve skipped for weeks. This is my reward.
I walk into the Starbucks just a couple doors down from the studio. I’m lost in thought. I suddenly become a little self-conscious when I hear a group of middle school girls giggling, a remnant of my youth. Although now I know they’re not laughing at me. I didn’t expect to be out in public or I might have chosen a different outfit. My body is still glistening with sweat from a class that I used to flow through much easier. My tits are perfectly rounded in my sports bra, and a shiver tells me my nipples are quite erect. I feel a slightly unpleasant tug, the rawness of their graze across the fabric.
My yoga pants have grown tight across my thighs, taut around my slightly dimpled ass, pulled up to reveal just a hint of camel toe. Oh well, no one will recognize me, I think. I self consciously let my hair out of my ponytail, tying it into a bun so I don’t have to feel the sweatiness of the tendrils on my neck.
Why do I feel so many eyes on me? I shake off the thought... no one is looking at me, I tell myself. “Venti vanilla latte,” I say, a little hurried due to my own self-consciousness. I pay and wait. I glance around while also pulling out my phone.
I spy the girls, a hunky guy, a sad looking couple, and a tanned, fit woman. She has intense eyes and tattoos I’d never be brave enough to have inked. She’s making eye contact with the handsome guy. Of course he’s into her, his attention not at all subtle. Her blouse is cut low, and I can’t help but stare at her ample cleavage and question my desires. I wonder what she sounds like when she climaxes. I can tell she isn’t wearing a bra, and I’m admiring her perky tits, wanting to see more.
I hear my order called and I dash out of the store. I’m turned on. I decide to really treat myself and turn toward home, forgoing my errands. The thought of porn and the touch of my vibrator luring me into an afternoon of laziness. Maybe I’ll cum thinking of her.
Treat yourself, Yoga Pants! Perhaps in the future, our paths will cross again…