Nikki

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Athletic

Summer 2009

“Shut your fucking cock-hole, bitch,” laughed Nikki as she sprayed vinegar over the hot tray of cutlery, and picked up a soup spoon. Christine’s hands froze in the middle of polishing a handful of forks with a napkin, as her eyes went wide with shock and amusement. She looked around the kitchen, scandalized. It was the universal teenage girl code for “OMG, I can’t believe you just said that!”

Nikki was having none of it. “What, you’re worried these cocksuckers will get offended?” she said to Chris before raising her voice so it cut through the sounds of the kitchen activity. “YOU COCKSUCKERS DON’T MIND MY FUCKING LANGUAGE, RIGHT?”

A few waiters and waitresses shook their heads, but they’d long since gotten used to Nikki’s profanity. The sous-chef, cooks and dish-pigs couldn’t resist the challenge, though, and a chorus of fuck-yous were volleyed back from across the serving line.

The wait staff were mostly kids like me, trying to earn money over the summer for college in the fall. Probably half were going into their last year of high-school, and the rest of us were already finished our first-year at university. The kitchen staff were a more varied bunch. Most of them were somewhere on a work continuum that progressed from dishes, to prep cook, to line cook. Carl the sous-chef was a grizzled old bugger who leered at all the girls and seemed to have a shard of ice where his conscience was supposed to be. He’d been working in a kitchen long enough to know that sous-chef at a suburban golf club was as high as he was going to rise on the career ladder.

Nikki was the only one who didn’t fit neatly into either group. She was my age, but we couldn’t have been more different. Where I was a good student, just finished my first year of Commerce at U of T, she had dropped out of school at sixteen. In high-school, I’d been on the varsity soccer and swim teams. Nikki smoked close to a pack a day. I came from a middle-class family with two younger brothers, and she’d apparently bounced around foster homes until she was old enough to tell Child Services to go fuck themselves. I was a little shy and socially awkward, but Nikki could say anything to anyone.

She was short — maybe 5’2” in the flats she and the other girls had to wear at work. She was skinny as well, like she’d never quite had enough to eat her whole life, and didn’t care to start now. The only thing that wasn’t tiny on her were her boobs. The girl had a chest on her that looked completely out of place. Shoulder length jet-black hair framed a pale face that could have been pretty if she wasn’t wearing too much eye makeup and snarling profanities at people all the time. She’d just had red streaks put in her hair the other day, and she’d caught shit from our supervisor over that. Ms. Sullivan wanted wait staff in the clubhouse to present a certain image, and she made Nikki remove all her piercings (other than the tongue stud) at the beginning of each shift. Nikki even tried to cover a tattoo on her wrist with a tensor bandage at Sullivan’s urging, but so many people asked her how she could carry trays of food with a sprained wrist, she quickly ditched that idea and silently dared our supervisor to call her on it. I don’t know why Sullivan hired Nikki in the first place.

Okay, maybe I did know: Nikki worked crazy hard every shift, and she worked all the hours Sullivan would give her. Split shifts, opening the coffee shop in the morning before the first tee-time, closing after a wedding or banquet at 2am, whatever. And the members seemed to like her. At least, the older guys did, the ones old enough to be her dad or grandpa. I would watch them look right down her uniform blouse when she was topping up their coffee or serving them lunch, and I’m pretty sure she knew it. She would flirt with them, laugh at a dirty joke and tell them another even filthier to get the table roaring with laughter. Gratuities were “included” on every chit the members signed, but Nikki got more cash at the table on top of that than anyone else on staff. She was certainly rough around the edges, but she was a good waitress.

We were different in one more way, one that made me a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable. While I was decent enough looking to have dated a bit — and even fooled around with some of the girls who would do that in high-school — I was still technically a virgin. To hear Nikki talk, she was getting as much dick as she wanted, whenever she wanted, no strings attached. She was more of a swordsman than any guy I’d ever known. It was intimidating and fascinating at the same time. Although I often pretended I was absorbed in stocking creamers, or cleaning the soup station, or some other crappy task in the kitchen, I’d use that as an excuse to hover around the edges of her bawdy conversations with the kitchen guys, listening intently to her stories of conquest.

“Cocksucker is it?” Carl asked with a sneer, peering through the serving line. “Takes one to know one, you skank,” he continued with a malicious grin.

Nikki looked back at him with an expression of exaggerated boredom plastered across her illegal bahis face. “Lick my dick-ditch, you fat old perv,” she replied. “On second thought, don’t,” she continued. “The last place you stuck that tongue was in Billy’s asshole, and I don’t need an infection down there.” The whole room let out a theatrical “ooooohhhh” at the comeback, and even Billy grinned shyly over at the dishwasher as he loaded another tray.

Before Carl could return fire, Ms. Sullivan burst through the swinging doors from the banquet hall.

“Okay, the last of the reception is clearing out now, so most of you can punch out. Nikki and…” Sullivan glanced around at the collected wait staff until her eyes fell on me. “…Jeff, you two will stay and clear tables, restock for the morning. Tracy will finish up at the bar and lock up.” She turned to the sous-chef. “Carl, you remember the payroll discussion with Tim this month: get as many of your guys out of here as quickly as possible.” He nodded and turned to direct his guys to finish their cleanup. She glanced at her watch. “I have to be back early tomorrow for that tournament, so I’m going to take off too. Don’t stay late,” she admonished me and Nikki, and then turned on her heel and walked out.

Within fifteen minutes, the only people left in the building were Tracy chatting with a couple of drunk wedding guests as she tried vainly to close up the bar in the main lobby, and me and Nikki clearing the aftermath of a wedding reception off tables in a dim banquet hall.

“You gonna keep looking down my top, dickwad?” Nikki asked calmly as she bent further over the table across from me to retrieve a half-full plate of dessert and put it on her tray. I started to stammer some excuse, but she stood up straight and cut me off. “Or do you just want me to pull the girls out and you can stand here and jack your little cock off while you get a good look?”

The truth was, I had been sneaking looks as we worked, but I was mortified that she’d noticed. That embarrassment quickly morphed to angry protest, which was piqued even further when I looked up from her cleavage and saw the self-satisfied smirk on her face.

“Yeah, I figured I was the only guy in town who hadn’t seen them already, so I wanted to catch up,” I retorted with a rare edge to my voice.

Nikki’s jaw dropped at the unexpected comeback. I don’t think we’d said five words to each other per shift over the last month, and she obviously didn’t think I had it in me to trash talk with her.

“Fuck you, pindick,” she said.

I got flustered, my mouth opening and closing abortively as I tried to come up with something clever and cutting. Nikki’s face broke into a grin again as she watched me struggle.

“And then you say ‘Just because you’ve been fucked so much I could stuff a telephone pole up your cunt without you feeling it doesn’t mean I have a pindick, bitch,’” Nikki continued as I gawped at her. “And then I say ‘Fuck you at both ends, pindick.’” Her grin widened. “Pin. Dick.” She drew the insult out.

Then she did something I never would have expected. She reached down and with her bare hand, she picked up the half-eaten lemon meringue pie piece off the dessert plate in front of her and threw it at my face. It hit me on the left cheek with a wet splat. I looked at her in shock. I couldn’t believe she did that. Mischief and excitement danced in her bright eyes, and she turned heel and ran towards the kitchen with a bark of laughter.

Her sudden flight unfroze me and spurred me to chase like a dog after a squirrel. I burst through the kitchen doors a couple of seconds behind her, looked around frantically, and found her digging in one of the condiments fridges under a prep counter. She turned and faced me with a can of whipped cream in each hand. I felt my face split in maniacal grin to match her own, and charged her. She shrieked and started to spray me with whipped cream. I wrestled one of the cans away from her and returned fire. Soon both of us were covered and slipping on the tile floor, laughing hysterically.

One moment we were wrestling and spraying each other. The next, our eyes locked, and then she leapt at me, grabbing my head in both hands as she plastered her mouth to mine. The cans clattered to the floor, and we pawed at each other, licking the sweet, slippery cream from each other’s lips, chin and cheeks. Then I was at her neck, sucking and licking it sloppily. Her back arched, and I felt her quiver a moment before she wrenched my mouth back to hers so our tongues could duel wetly.

I had never been so turned on in my entire life. Oh, I’d been plenty horny before. Frustrated too, when a girl would go so far with me, and no further, like she had some sort of throttle control that I, with my inferior Y chromosome, pitifully lacked. But this girl was something entirely different. She was as hungry for me as I was for her, and neither one of us was holding back. The freedom was exhilarating. Without having to worry about how far I could push things without getting coyly rebuffed, I could just lose myself in the lust and excitement of the moment.

Nikki’s illegal bahis siteleri fingers fumbled at the buttons of my white shirt, which was nearly transparent with smeared cream at this point. Once it was open, she dove down and licked at one of my nipples, sending a shiver though me, and making my abs flinch reflexively. As her wicked tongue worked its way across my chest, and then dropped steadily lower, her hands worked at the front of my pants. I was so hard, it felt like I had a crowbar wedged in there; so much so, that when she wrenched my boxers down, it hurt when the waistband caught on my erection before I sprung free, waving wildly at her.

Hands so fine and delicate shouldn’t have been able to grip me that tightly, and my head rocked back in a rush of pleasure. When I was able to look down, Nikki’s hungry eyes locked with mine. I realized she was fiercely enjoying controlling my pleasure, knowing she was the one who was making me lose control like this. Her slick hands pumped my throbbing dick, and I gasped as my hips lurched forward. Her nose wrinkled up with a wicked grin, and she rose up on tiptoe to French kiss me again as she jacked me off.

I felt a familiar electricity light up my groin, and panicked as I realized I was very close to losing it. Too close. I wanted to cum SO badly, but was convinced I’d ruin the moment if I went off too quickly. I grabbed Nikki’s wrists more roughly than I wanted to, and pulled her hands off my twitching rod. Her eyes grew wide in shock, and perhaps a bit of pain before I let her go.

With no idea what to do next, I instinctively copied her earlier moves on me. I kissed her deeply as my hands went to her fabulous chest, and undid her blouse step by step. When I pulled away, I saw she was wearing a lacy underwire bra that was at least a cup size too small for her — her tits were overflowing up top. I reached around to her back, and she pushed me away impatiently. I was worried for a fleeting moment before she reached up and unclasped her bra at the front. When her hands dropped, so did the most magnificent set of tits I’d ever seen.

My eyes went from her breasts to her face, and saw she was smiling proudly at me. She knew. She absolutely knew what she had there, the power those extraordinary bits of womanhood gave her. I looked down again. My hands moved of their own accord to palm her flawless boobs. I caressed their soft firmness and tested their weight. I pulled at the rubbery pink tips, pinching gently with finger and thumb of both hands until she made a guttural noise in her throat. When my gaze returned once again to her face, it was transformed into a mask of pure lust.

Nikki took a step back from me, and her hands went to the hem of her black pencil skirt. She hitched it up until I could see a small, matching set of white lace panties at her crotch. They were obviously damp, and the intoxicating scent of her hit me suddenly, overpowering the kitchen smells in some magical pheromonal cocktail. I was overcome with need for her, and my mouth found her nipple as my hand cupped her mound. Suckling at her tit, my fingers delved beneath the edge of her underwear, and I discovered she was shaved completely bare. I quickly found her slippery slit, and pushed my middle finger into her, aggressively probing her aroused hole as she humped back at my hand.

Suddenly, I heard Nikki gasp and felt her flinch. I somehow knew it wasn’t from lust. As she twisted roughly away from me, I heard a woman’s voice. “What the everloving fuck?”

I turned to see the bartender Tracy standing in the doorway from the lobby, a shocked look on her face. Tracy was a single mom in her late twenties, which seemed far older to us. Her steady, adult demeanour was why she was trusted by management. Anger flooded her features, and washed the shock away. “You two are going to clean this shit up right now. Right fucking now! And then I’m going to lock up and go home, and forget I ever saw this. Do not fuck with me on this, children,” she warned ominously.

Nikki and I hurriedly pulled our clothes into a semblance of order, and rushed to comply. Nikki finished clearing the banquet hall while I mopped up our mess in the kitchen and restocked for the morning.

My head was still reeling as I peeled off my soiled uniform. I didn’t have spare underwear, so I went commando under my t-shirt and shorts. OK, there was a little hope in that decision as well — I was horny as hell, but I had no idea if it was just a hot moment, or if Nikki would want to continue. From what I knew of her, it could go either way.

I was waiting with Tracy at the back door of the building when Nikki came out a few minutes later, canvas backpack over her shoulder. It was odd seeing her hair loose around her face, since she always wore it pulled back in a pony-tail at work, and I had never actually seen her outside of that. She was wearing a white wifebeater she’d obviously cropped herself with a pair of scissors, a pair of ripped jean shorts, and beat up Chuck Taylor sneakers. My eyes were instantly drawn to her chest, where her canlı bahis siteleri fantastic tits jiggled enticingly as she walked, nipples poking through the thin fabric. I realized she was probably in the same predicament I was, and didn’t want to wear a dairy-soaked bra home. She was uncharacteristically quiet and meek, eyes angled down to the ground as she strode quickly out the door, so I piped up. “Tracy, sorry about what happened in the kitchen. Thanks for being cool about this.”

Tracy turned the deadbolt on the door with a loud thunk, and acknowledged my little speech with a non-committal “Mmmhmmn.” She turned and headed across the parking lot to her car, shaking her head slightly as she went.

I turned to Nikki, and was suddenly back to being at a loss for words with her. “Can I…uhh…walk you home or something?” She turned to me with a deadpan look on her face, then started walking. I hurried to catch up. “That was…wow…but pretty embarrassing when Tracy came in. Sorry.”

A flash of irritation crossed her face. “What are you apologizing for? It wasn’t your fault. If I didn’t want to be doing that with you, it wouldn’t have happened. Tracy coming in was just shit luck.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I replied. “Sorry.” She looked exasperatedly at me again as we walked, and I hurried to explain. “No…like, I’m sorry I apologized when I shouldn’t have.” I sighed, embarrassed and frustrated with myself. “I’ll just stop talking now.”

Nikki barked a laugh, which made me feel better. Watching her boobs bounce as she chuckled also made me feel better. We were walking along the sidewalk beside the 18th fairway, in and out of the streetlights’ glow, talking about stupid stuff from work. Seeing her with tattoos down one shoulder, a thin ring in one nostril, and many rings in her ears was in one way exotic, but in another more comfortable — like I was seeing her in her in her natural state. In these hours past midnight, there was no traffic on the quiet residential street in this golf neighbourhood. I was trying to figure out how to make a suave, romantic move on her when she stepped off the sidewalk and started to work her way across the grass. She stopped and looked over her shoulder at me. “I always cut across the course here at night — it’s a short cut. Come on.” I hurried to follow.

The evening was warm, but not sweltering, and for some reason the bugs hadn’t found us — perhaps because we were sticking to the middle of the fairway as we walked. The nearly full moon shone strongly down on us, casting fascinating shadows on the grass around us as we walked. Our conversation tailed off, and we continued in silence for a few minutes. Without breaking stride or even looking up, Nikki asked me a question that made my heart skip a beat. “Hey, are you still horny?”

“Uhh…yeah. Yeah,” I managed to stutter out, surprised.

“Cool,” she answered. She walked a few more steps, and then turned to me and dropped her bag. She reached for the ragged hem of her cropped shirt and, in one swift motion, pulled it off over her head and tossed it on top of her bag. I was instantly on overload. Nikki’s waif-like body glowed in the moonlight, pierced and tattooed like she was some sort of punk elf. I guess I’d always had an idea of her general shape under the work uniform, but I now had a visceral sense of how slim she was, except for her outsized breasts. Those jutted from her chest like two ripe melons, high and firm. Her areolae were large and pale, with small erect tips pointing at me. They were wondrous, and I longed to feel their weight in my hands, suck at them with my lips and teeth and tongue, and bury my face in them.

I lurched towards her in lust, and she moved to meet me. Before I could touch her, her hands were pulling at my t-shirt, tugging it up over my shoulders and head so we were both bare from the waist up. She rose on her toes to kiss me, wrapping her arms around my neck, her tongue fencing with mine in my mouth, her perfect tits mashed against my chest. My cock was jammed painfully in my shorts, trapped between our pressing bodies, desperate to achieve the aggressive angle its arousal demanded. Nikki could feel it, and she pulled her hips back so she could reach between our bodies and squeeze it possessively. Suddenly we were apart, hands moving frantically at each other’s waist to unfasten and remove our remaining clothing. We hopped and tripped out of our shorts, and flew back into a clinging embrace. I dipped my head to suck at one nipple and then the other, alternating between them jealously. Nikki moaned and arched her back to push her sensitive breasts at me as I worked them over.

She pushed me down to my back on the grass, and joined me quickly, kneeling between my legs. One hand gripped me hard at the base of my rod, and then a curtain of hair descended over my groin. I held my breath, and a short moment later exhaled it all loudly as I felt her hot, slick mouth engulf the head of my cock. She bobbed and twisted, her lips, teeth, and tongue stimulating me mercilessly. I could feel my orgasm building, and my abs tightened reflexively. Nikki must have sensed this, as her mouth and hands left me in an instant with a wet popping sound. My disappointment and frustration must have been tangible, because she laughed wickedly and said “Not yet, champ. You need to last a little longer than that.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir

kurtköy escort didim escort sakarya escort bayan sakarya escort bayan escort ümraniye markantalya escort ataşehir escort kadıköy escort maltepe escort gaziantep rus escort escort ankara ensest hikayeler gaziantep escort konyaaltı escort escort kayseri escort izmit escort izmir gaziantep escort webmaster forum canlı bahis illegal bahis illegal bahis kaçak bahis canlı bahis güvenilir bahis sakarya escort bayan sex izle bursa escort kocaeli escort bursa escort bursa escort bursa escort kayseri escort bursa escort bursa escort geyve travesti