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Our affair was brief; it ended when I was transferred to another store. I didn’t keep in touch. Sharon sent me a card once, and my wife took it badly, but that was that. So what did we do? At first we flirted. At least Sharon did. I was a pretty awkward young man and didn’t recognize flirting for what it was. Still, I paid attention, and Sharon enjoyed it. Working in close quarters, we bumped into each other more and more. Bumping into someone is inevitable in a fast food environment as you rush around reaching for this or that, as you pack orders. At the time, I didn’t understand that Sharon was allowing me to bump into her, in fact making herself available. It was intentional, but I didn’t realize that till now. As for her breasts, they were noticeable. Reasonably large, and since she was young, they didn’t sag – and when she moved, they bounced noticeably bouncy. Her work uniform may have been modest, but she came to work in street clothes and left the same way (and changed in. She got on her hands and knees as he scooted under her. Almost frantically, she squatted, and sank down on him. Immediately she leaned forward, dangling a pear shaped breast in his face, and her hips went crazy, moving her clit against the base of his prick.She couldn’t get enough, moving unceasingly through four orgasms, moaning and crying and kissing him, mashing her breasts in his face, and demanding that he suck them, only to jerk them out of his mouth as she raced through another orgasm. She felt like she was rubbing her clit raw, but couldn’t stop, until finally she ran out of energy and fell onto his chest, gasping weakly for air.“I don’t believe this,” she panted. “This can’t be real.”“It’s very real,” he said, into her hair, stroking her back.“All that time,” she panted. “And you didn’t cum once.”“You don’t want to get pregnant,” he reminded her.She raised up, putting her forearms on his chest, and looking down into his blue eyes.“Why do I want to feel you cum in me, then?”.
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