The restaurant was crazy with the typical disorder of a busy shift—clattering plates, orders hollered to the kitchen, and the constant flow of customers in the dining area. I was busting ass, working the kitchen, sweat beading on my forehead from the heat of the ovens, when Rozie sauntered by. She was a vision in her tight black uniform pants and fitted shirt, her tall, slim frame moving with that effortless energy that brought levity to the whole front end. At 115 pounds, she had this lithe, athletic build, small breasts that perked just right under the fabric, and an outgoing personality that made her the heart of every rush.
I couldn’t resist the urge. As she passed close to the kitchen pass-through, I put out my hand and pinched her flat belly, right where her shirt rode up a bit. Her stomach was warm and smooth, no give at all—just toned muscle.
She spun around, eyes opened with mock surprise, a grin already curling at her full lips. “Why’d you grab my fat roll?” she teased, hands on her hips, knowing damn well she didn’t have one. Her sweet voice had that bubbly lilt that involuntarily brought a smile.
I laughed, wiping my hands against my apron. “What fat roll? Just testing for contraband.”
She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow, entering into the kitchen, her energy sizzling like the meat behind me. “Oh yeah? You want me to grab your fat roll then?” The challenge was playful, but in her green eyes I saw a flash, something that accelerated my pulse.
Smiling like an idiot, I spread my arms wide, displaying my midsection—nothing ripped, but solid from kitchen and farm labor. “Go ahead, free access.”
In a blur, her hand shot out, but instead of my belly, she palmed my cock through my pants, squeezing just firm enough to make my breath stutter. The shock rocked me like a splash of hot oil—hard length twitching instantly under her hand, heat rushing to my groin. She held it for a beat, her fingers holding possessively, then released with a wicked giggle that followed as she turned and walked away, hips swaying extra for my benefit.
“Later,” she called over her shoulder, as I was left, stunned and sporting a semi in the middle of the kitchen.
The rest of the shift dragged, my mind revisiting that bold grab on a continuous loop. Every time she swung by for orders, our eyes spoke with that charged tension, her outgoing chatter laden with double entendres that had me biting back grins. By closing time, the vibe between us was powerful, demanding.
It boiled over in the stock room. I was restocking dry goods, shelves of boxes and cans, shadows created by fluorescent light, when the door opened. Rozie slipped in, her shift apron discarded, hair disheveled from the night. “Hey,” she said, suggestively, stepping close enough that I could smell her coconut-vanilla shampoo mixed with the obvious odor of fryer oil.
Before I had a chance to respond, she grabbed my shirt collar and pulled me down, her lips crashing into mine. The kiss was hungry, her tongue diving in to tangle with mine, hot and demanding. I groaned, hands flying to her waist, pulling her slim body tight against me. She tasted like mint gum and mischief, her small breasts pressing into my chest while she ground her hips forward, feeling my cock harden again. We broke apart gasping, her eyes dark with want.
“Damn, Rozie, you’re hot as hell,” I uttered, voice coarse, my hands sliding down to cup her ass, firm and tight under the pants.
She bit her lip, glancing at the door. “We shouldn’t…work.” But that didn’t stop her from fingering my belt, teasing.
I nodded, heart palpitating. “Day off tomorrow. Come over to my place? Movie or whatever.”
Her grin was pure fire. “Yeah. Text me the address.”
The next evening, she showed up at my door right on time, dressed casually in tight jeans that were painted to her legs like a second skin and a cropped tank top that showed off her flat stomach and the subtle curve of her small tits, no bra in sight, nipples faintly visible through the thin fabric. Her energy dominated the space immediately, outgoing chatter about the restaurant fading as she kicked off her shoes.
I led her to the living room, remote in hand, scrolling through streaming options on the TV. But Rozie had other plans. Before I could even settle on a title, she pushed me back onto the couch, straddling my lap in one fluid motion. Her hands were everywhere; grabbing at my shirt, yanking it over my head, nails scraping lightly down my chest.
“Movie can wait,” she urgently whispered, lips brushing my ear, her breath scorching.
I was done for. My cock throbbed, bulging against my jeans as I kissed her fiercely, tongues sliding wet and urgent. She rocked against me, her pussy heat seeping through our clothes, grinding down until I was rock hard and straining.
“God, I want you,” I growled, hands shoving under her tank, palming her small breasts. They fit perfectly, nipples hardening to tight buds as I pinched and rolled them, drawing a soft moan from her throat.
She arched into my touch, then pulled back just enough to peel off her top, tossing it aside. Her skin was flawless, pale with a light tan line from summer, small tits perky and begging for attention. I leaned in, sucking one nipple into my mouth, tongue flicking hard while my hand kneaded the other. She gasped, fingers threading into my hair, holding me there as her hips kept rolling, soaking her yoga pants.
“Bedroom,” I barely managed to rasp, standing with her attached to me, her legs locking at my waist. She laughed—that energetic, outgoing sound turning sultry—as I carried her down the hall, kicking the door open. The bed was unmade, sheets rumpled, but she didn’t care. I dumped her onto it gently, then stripped off my jeans and boxers in record time, cock bounding free, longer and thicker than I had ever seen it, the desire manifesting itself in physical form.
Rozie’s eyes zeroed in on it, licking her lips as she shimmied out of her pants and panties, revealing her shaved pussy, lips pink and already slick. She was soaked, arousal glistening on her inner thighs. “Come here,” she demanded, voice husky, pulling me down.
We tumbled onto the mattress in a heap of limbs, skin sliding hot against skin. I kissed her neck, sucking marks into her neck while my hand dipped between her legs, fingers parting her folds to find her clit—swollen and sensitive. She bucked, moaning loudly as I rubbed circles, then slid two fingers inside her tight heat. She closed tightly around them, wet and velvety, hips lifting to meet my hand.
“Yes, just like that,” she panted, her outgoing fire turning wild. I pumped faster, thumb on her clit, until she screamed in pleasure, pussy spasming, juices wetting my fingers as she cried out, body uncontrollably trembling.
Not giving her a second to recover, I positioned myself, rubbing my cock head along her slit, teasing her entrance. “You ready?” I asked, voice strained.
“Yes, take me,” she urged, nails digging at my shoulders.
I thrust in deep, burying to the hilt in one go. Her walls gripped me like a vice, hot and slick, pulling me still deeper. We both groaned, the match perfect, her slim body taking every inch. I started slow, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back, watching her small tits bounce with each impact. She wrapped her legs around my waist, heels pushing into my ass, demanding I thrust harder.
The pace built fast, skin soaked with sweat, as I pounded into her, bedframe thumping against the wall. She met every thrust, her energetic personality shining through in how she pawed at my back, bit my shoulder, whispered filthy encouragements. ‘Deeper…harder…make me cum again.’
I pulled her legs up and put them on my shoulders, allowing me access to her deepest recesses; she screamed in delight, pussy fluttering around my cock. Our hands locked together, I drove into her relentlessly, balls slapping against her ass.
We shifted again, her on top now, straddling me cowgirl so I could watch her tits as she rode. She bounced hard, leaning back, taking me deep, her juices dripping down my shaft. I reached down, thumb finding her clit, rubbing fast until she came again, walls milking me so tight I nearly lost it.
But I held back, flipping us once more so she was under me, missionary with her legs hooked in my elbows. This left me slamming into her cervix, grinding against her clit with every thrust. Her small breasts heaved with her breath, nipples red from my earlier attention. Sweat poured off us, the room teemed with the wet sounds of skin on skin, our moans blending.
“I’m gonna cum,” I warned, voice breaking. With surprising strength and agility, she rolled me onto my back, taking my cock into her mouth as I erupted, swallowing every drop as she giggled at my bucking and twitching to every swish of her tongue.
The next two hours became a haze of positions and orgasms: her on her side with me spooning, slow and deep; me eating her out until she squirted against my tongue; her sucking my cock, swallowing me to the base while I fingered her. Every release built on the last, her outgoing energy keeping us going, demanding more even as she quaked, and I, more than willing to give it.
I was ready for another orgasm, so I flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up so she was on all fours, ass presented, firm and round despite her slim frame. I slapped it lightly, watching it jiggle just slightly, then plunged back in from behind. The angle hit her G-spot dead on, and she screamed into the pillow, pussy fluttering around my cock. My hands held her hips as I thrust furiously, balls slapping against her clit once more.
My orgasm was building, dangerously close to crashing through my restraint, “I’m close,” I grunted.
“Inside me,” she gasped, clenching hard.
I rolled her over, missionary with her legs over my shoulders and pinned her down, thrusting erratically as my balls tightened. I exploded, cock pulsing as hot cum filled her pussy, overflowing as she came with me, her release mixing with mine. We collapsed, spent and sticky. She rolled to put her head on my chest, both breathing ragged.
“Best movie night ever,” she ushered with a tired giggle, her hand tracing lazy circles on my skin.
