Secondhand Sub Part 1 - Sex Stories

Secondhand Sub Part 1

You could call me semi-retired. I'm 42 years old, and have a landscaping business that mostly runs itself these days. I'm single after my wife left a few years ago, and haven't felt the need to bring in a long-term companion.

I don't consider myself rich but I have a nice three bedroom home on 2 acres with a pool, in a nice quiet suburb north of Indianapolis. I can afford to take some nice vacations, and drive a new Honda, with a truck that's paid for by my company.

I'm in pretty good shape for my age, outdoor work will do that for you. I'm not some chiseled Adonis with movie star looks but I'm fit and always done well enough with women. You could say my wife was above my weight class, but it turned out she was a bitch as well. After 8 years, we didn't have kids, and I just didn't feel like putting in all the effort that she required. There was just no joy for me.

After checking in with my crew manager that morning I decided to go get some breakfast the local spot. After I was seated a waitress I'd never seen before comes to take my order. She's trim and has angular features and a nose that most people might consider a little bit to big.

She has a soft pleasant voice, and after she takes my order I glance at her wonderful round ass as she leaves the table. She brings back my glass of orange juice, and confirms that I don't want coffee. Never cared for that bitter drink, and I don't need the caffeine to wake me up in the morning. She tells me her name is Amy and ...

... asks if I'm ready to order.

As we interact through breakfast I noticed she says Sir a lot. I Even ask her to call me by my first name, Chris, but she continues to call me Sir. Her eyes stay looking down during the entire time she serves the table. As I finish and pay the check with my card, I give her a tip in cash. At 6 ft 3, I tower over her but I'm finally able to get her to look into my eyes as a place a $20 tip in her hand.

She must be about 5'4, and I would guess about 110 lb. Her breasts are not large, but she has prominent nipples poking through her bra and t-shirt. Her eyes are gorgeous. Dark brown with gold and green flecks. They catch me off guard for a second and I find I'm holding her hand and staring at her eyes just a moment beyond comfortable.

She quickly looks down and thanks me for my generosity. I let her know I'm a regular and that I try to show gratitude for great service. Her shoulder length dirty blonde hair falls around her face a little as she expresses her desire to serve me again soon.

The way she makes that last statement I'm not sure we're talking about an omelet. The tone in her voice gave it a deeper meaning. But maybe I was just imagining it.

I find myself eating there even more regularly over the next few weeks. After missing her on a day off, and being seated in a section that wasn't hers I start requesting her area and waiting for the table.

Over time we've exchanged a little bit of small talk and I discovered that she is not ...