Screw The Crew!

645am is a horrible time to be awake, but it’s a given in the life of a breakfast chef. Seeing Gillian every morning though sure made it an easier pill to swallow. She was a few years older than me, but fit as all hell. Skinny little thing with breasts that appeared bigger than her frame should allow, naturally dark hair and brown eyes to lure any sailor onto the rocks.

She was married. Of course, no one that perfect can stay single. But her husband was older than her by twice the amount I was her junior, and it was a loveless and sexless marriage according to her frequent daily offloads of her relationship. I always wondered why she would stay within that, surely she could get anyone she wanted, but leaving him never seemed to be an option for her. Perhaps it was a heritage thing, perhaps he was loaded, maybe he was hung. I never found out.

Gillian was affectionate by nature, always giving hugs and kisses to us staff and her regulars alike. She oozed sexuality, even at that ungodly hour of the morning. We were well in the grip of summer that one morning, and her skirt was short enough that from the front it looked like she was only wearing her short black apron. Distracting to the point I’d burnt myself far too many times when she’d drop dishes into the kitchen or put an order up.

That one morning, I don’t know what it was, but something overcame me. Actually, I know exactly what it was. I was standing at the bench, and we were going over that day’s specials, but for some reason, Gillian was leaning forward across the bench, her elbows on the cool stainless steel, her head turned over her shoulder, looking back at me. Those doe eyes glaring at me like a flare in the night.

I leaned forward, my lips pressing against her soft mouth. She welcomed the move by darting her tongue into my mouth, circling within in a way that already had me dreaming of how she could use that on my cock. She spun her body around and wrapped an arm around me neck and drew me as close as she could. There was no way she couldn’t feel my erection pressed hard against her belly. I wanted to tear her clothes off, see this amazing body hidden within her required black clothing, bask in its glory.

‘You got a condom?’ she asked with her sexy, husky voice. She ‘d barely pulled her panties off by the time I returned with a condom on already in place. Being so hard simply from kissing made me reminisce about those times making out as a teenager behind the school hall. Embarrassing back then, perfect right at that moment.

‘You need to respect the sanctity of my marriage,’ she ordered, as her skirt lifted as she placed a foot on the steel bench, her back still facing me. She scooped her fingers into the butter and spread it across that latex sheath, the remnants she spread across the tight opening of her ass.

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ she groaned, surprised at the girth I entered her ass with. Gillian was perfectly tight, like no one else’s ass I’d ever fucked before. Though that doesn’t say much, as it was only one other woman. Usually they see my cock and tell me that’s never going in their ass.

My fingers found her clit. Moist and warm, pulsing on my tips, my other hand grabbing hold of her ponytail, yanking her head back for leverage as I drove myself deep inside her. My fingers kept shifting around, looking for that sweet spot until at last she announced my arrival there.

‘Don’t move from there!’ she ordered, like a side of fries.

I obeyed, flicking her bean as I pounded her ass, it’s tightness grappling my shaft like I’d never felt before. Given that we were meant to open the cafe soon, I knew I was in luck as there was no way I was going to last in the clutches of her ass. Fuck, her ass was even sweeter to look at in the flesh than in her tight little skirt. Bouncing back and forth on my cock, her handprints smearing across the cool stainless steel bench.

‘Oh fuck!’ I couldn’t resist or hold back any longer. Gillian was far too hot, and I’d long masturbated to super specific videos on pornhub that were visually close to her. Now, then, I was living that dream. And it definitely wasn’t letting me down.

‘Fuck yeah,’ she cried out, my fingers bringing her to the brink of orgasm. She macerated my fingers as she came, and I was microseconds behind her, announcing my arrival in a string of mono-syllabic gibberish.

As the condom filled to its brim, my rhythmic thrusts slowed, my fingers eased on their circling. My legs wanted to collapse like an early retrieved parfait, but I held my place, my body collapsing against her covered back.

Gillian slid herself off the bench, and pointed to my rapidly shrinking cock. ‘You better get rid of that evidence. You know you can’t screw the crew.’ In the slickest move I’ve ever seen, she was off the bench, her knickers pulled back up, and out to the front of the cafe to open up shop.

My head was spinning, and I thought I could possibly pass out, as she opened the door and greeted the regular customers, still smelling of my sex. I hid my condom in an empty egg carton, and although Gillian and I played it cool for the rest of the day, our whole working career even, I couldn’t help but occasionally smell my fingers, and remember that brief encounter we shared that very morning.


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