Busty Sweet Maple

Busty Sweet Maple
by Joe Jay

It was 6:30a.m., Thursday, I was past the hump
of midweek, Wednesday, as I pulled into
Sweet Maple Café for my daily coffee.
Every day I come here to start my day,
and it just so happens I’m also enamored
with the waitress local folks call Sweet Maple—
a young women with brown hair and eyes and big (.)(.)
with wide sensual hips (Y)
Her actual name was tagged over her heart to the
simple white 3 button shirt (Kate).  A standard uniform her
bust thrusts 38 inches out causing her to have to
leave all 3 buttons open (only way she can fit into the uniform).
This is saying something cause each day when Sweet Maple
takes my order and brings me a medium roast coffee
she is boarder line out of her over-the-shoulder-
boulder-holder (local folks estimate she was a DD) usually black
with cleavage spilling out of her shirt.  Thursday was different.
At 6:36 I was seated in my usual spot by the window with a book,
positioned as I normally am which is what made the following events atypical as they transpired.

Sweet Maple:      “Hi, will you have the usual?” (yeah I’m a
                 regular).
Me:              “Hi Kate, yeah that would be great.”
Sweet Maple:      “Ok, great.  It will be right along.”
Me:              “Great. Thanks.”
Sweet Maple:      “By the way—I was gonna take my break
                  soon—would you mind if I join you?”
Me:              “Not at all, please do.” (I was at one of those
                 tables for two).
Sweet Maple:      “Ok, see you soon.” (She said with a sweet
                 smile and I returned it with a grin).

She put her order notebook in her back pocket and strutted away
my eyes hungrily followed each bouncing butt-cheek betting myself
that she wears a low rise thong.
And when my order came she brought it over and sat down
with a coffee for me and herself in hand.  We small talked for about 10min.and all the time her breasts were awkwardly taking up much of the small space between us and so nearly protruding
the vouch-safe of her shirt.(Push-up bra or extra perky tits? I wondered). She must have noticed my eyes slightly digress from holding her gaze to her heaving bosom because a few seconds later she made a self-consciousadjustment,
she tried to modestly conceal her massive mammaries more.
She took a sip of her coffee (light roast); I tried to conceal the growing amusement in my pants.

To top it off Sweet Maple Cafe's uniform also called for her to wear a skimpy black skirt—
the bare mid-drift was not a requirement but a sexy innovation
she devised on her own just to give men spot on hard-ons with one quick passing glance.
(What other reason? this was the dead of winter, this was NH, it was very cold).
Sweet Maple was clearly cold, her nipples shown like beacons guiding ships and were probably firm enough to cut the small side-portion of ham I ordered to go with my bagel.  
And I was very much aroused, though not clearly (erection hid),
so I nearly burst (with joy) when she made me an interesting offer. Completely unprecedented based on our conversation, history, and my looks in comparison to hers—she asked me straight:

Sweet Maple:   “I could walk you to your car?—I have  5min. left
              on my break.” (pulling my shirt to bring me
              closer to whisper in my ear) "I know you want me;
              I want you too."

And she did (walk me to my car and want me).  Then she walked around to the passenger’s side and got in.
Inside while crossing her legs she proposed we take a ride.  Pulling out of the parking lot
Sweet Maple reached over and rubbed my thigh—laughed, grinned, and touched my extremely hard cock.  O Thursday, let it be known, is now my favorite day of the week.
With a delicate tug to my pant zipper she exposed me as the horny bastard I had become.
We came to a red light; she bit her lower lip with joy then pumped by stick shift a few times.
I took a right and she took to pleasing me.  I pulled over half a mile down the road into a parking lot
and she wasted no time getting that skirt down around her ankles, over her sketchers, and dis-guarded into my backseat.

Me:             “Haha no panties?” (and I thought she was a
                thong girl).
Sweet Maple:     “No hassle.”  (escaped her lips with saucy moan
                while my fingers began pleasing her).

The parking lot we took sexual sanctuary in was occupied--I awkwardly made eye contact with a dude
as one of her behemoth boobs made contact with the window imprinting an areola the size of a saucer in the growing steam.
That waitress's breasts were big white plates as she sat completely unclothed,on my lap (now facing me gazing with lusty brown eyes—both told me she was horny)
guiding my condom clad cock into paradise exclaiming:

Sweet Maple:      “Ahhhhhhhhh yeah.”

(this told me she was wet).
And it was on.
     I was the ride,
she the rider.
    She hit all my buttons,
I buried my face in her tits.
    Then she slid her tongue
         
         d
         o
         w
         n
    ( my) (throat)

all the time up.and.down
    and squirming like
a fish impaled on a red rod.
    up.and.down.
back.and.forth to get all
   that I was worth
in size and girth.

Then at once I caught,
    and brought an end to
our hot rendezvous.

Now both dressed we saw the clock
7:31a.m. the radio played pop-rock 101.

Sweet Maple:   “Shit I’m late—should I go back?”
Me:            “What would you say you were doing?  
               You clearly left with me.”
Sweet Maple:   "Well I can’t say I was doing you haha
               what should we do?”
Me:            “I don’t know—I’m late too, I needed to be
              at work a minute ago. Wanna just go back
              to my place?”
Sweet Maple:   “Haha are you trying to make a move on me?
              Alright let’s go—if your lucky maybe you'll
              find your way into my pants.”

She meant it and practically before we were through the door
clothes hit the floor.
After lunch and sex I called in to work claiming I was sick.

Sweet Maple:   “Sick of what, me sucking your dick?”
              (she joked wiping cum from her lips).

Well my Friday was different.
I didn’t start my day at the café,
with a coffee or a latte.
But with busty Sweet Maple and
her mouth tasting all my extremities.
To the local folks’ disappointment,
she was no longer employed at the Sweet Maple Café.