Would You Like Ketchup With That? - Sex Stories

Would You Like Ketchup With That?

She had the sweetest voice. Cheerful and friendly; not the kind that’s drilled into you by managers, but sincere sounding. It’s hard to tell by a voice, but I guessed her to be young, probably college age, since the university was just down the street. “Fries, please. And a diet pepsi.” I smiled as she repeated it back, putting a little pop into the ‘p’s. “Will there be anything else?” she asked, her voice not losing any of its allure despite issuing from the metal box just left of the menu board. A kiss, I mused, but left the thought unspoken. “Just that,” instead, unable to resist a hint of bedroom seduction in my words, just enough to make me smile, sure that it would go unnoticed as I drove slowly up to the window. And yes, I’d guessed right. About twenty, perhaps, or close. Pretty as well. Brunette, her hair pulled back, her bangs cut evenly. Lovely cheekbones defined her face and her unadorned lips were full. The kind of lips that begged to be kissed. Her smile was lovely, again, not an affectation, not unless she was able to fake the charming sparkle in her dark eyes as well. “Would you like ketchup with that?” she asked, leaning slightly out the drive thru window to hand me my drink and a bag, just enough to draw my gaze to a pair of breasts that were as close to perfect as you could get and still be natural. It was impossible not to notice the strain they put on the buttons of her uniform blouse. “No, thanks,” I smiled, trying my best not to acknowledge the slight ...

... thrill that sizzled through me as our hands briefly touched, my diet soda poised between us. “Have a great evening,” she smiled, seemingly oblivious to the desire that the mere brush of fingers stirred up in me. So charmingly naïve. Thoughts of seduction teased the corners of my brain as I drove off, absently plucking a fry from the bag and nibbling on it as if it were one of her nipples. oOo “Fries and a diet pepsi, please.” I smiled in anticipation of her voice, delighted as she once again popped her ‘p’s. I couldn’t help but picture the shape of her lips as I did a quick check in the rearview mirror, taking a moment to undo one more button than I’d thought prudent earlier. Just enough so that she could get a glimpse, not only of my cleavage, but of the pastel pink checkered bra I’d put on just for her. It was, in my opinion, more cute than sexy, but then, that best described me as well. “No ketchup, right?” I smiled, nodding, my breath hitching just the tiniest bit at her obvious recognition. I couldn’t help but wonder if she remembered for a reason, or simply had a good memory for faces. “Right,” I managed, taking my drink from her hand, once again getting a tiny thrill as it changed owners, fingers brushing for a split second, pulling my attention from her lovely breasts to her face, trying to fathom something from her gaze, but coming up empty. “Have a nice evening,” she wished, sending me on my way, once again, my thoughts less than appropriate, my cheeks coloring a ...