Young and Mature, Sex Fantasy, Workplace,
My daughter Joanna was chuffed about her first part-time, casual job at college. It was a minimum wage fast food outlet, but we all got our first pay cheque somewhere similar.
About a month into her successful start, she mentioned as I picked her up, in a relaxed after-work conversation, that one of the shift managers, whom she said was cool, chill and fun while getting the job done, was Renée Peterson. The name turned my half-listening to full attention.
I probed in an adult way without showing interest in my daughter's supervisor. Renee, just eighteen, had been in my last college class for English Lit before I took early retirement a couple of years ago, as my online freelance work could make twice the money. Also; the chance to make inroads into a standard bucket list.
Ah, the secret list; well, most of us, including myself, daydream fantasies.
My standard bucket list was generated from a set writing assignment in my Lit class following a viewing of the prescribed course movie with the same name. Beyond what the students wrote to pass a course, including Renee, who, except the students themselves, knows their own secret bucket list.
As we continued the drive home, I listened closely to Jo as she spilled girl break-time gossip. My daughter told me that Renee had just broken up with her boyfriend. God, the stuff girls share in their coffee breaks.
Renee and I am not being discrete about it now, had been one hot piece at college. However, as her teacher, I knew the rules and didn't plan to spend my retirement in the 'big house'. Still, I had to stall my wandering mind every time her pert chassis and cute butt came into my class. She had that inexperienced sexual innocence. She knew she had the flirty goods; she knew that males looked, but she just wasn't sure how to unpack herself in front of a guy; thankfully, not an older guy. She knew I had the 'notice' for her.
Anyway, Renee was no bookish scholar, and despite all my best professional attentions, she didn't get a Uni entrance score of any value. She was a practical and organised lass. So here she was, a supervisor/shift manager at a fast-food outlet, aged twenty-one.
The following week, I was in the local shopping precinct at the hardware store. Still, I knew the fast-food outlet was there, too. Jo was at college., and intentionally but with no real plan if I saw Renee, I decided to get a quick lunch meal at the outlet, and who knew: If Renee was there; well, Renee was there.
Well, Renee was there, at the counter, her bright white badge in red letters: Renee, Duty Manager.
Her dark hair was tied under her official company cap, but her smile was broad, and her blue eyes alert. She amicably recognised me. I got more than the required customer obligatory smile.
"Well, hello, Mr Richards; long time no see, though I've met Jo, as you probably know?"
"Yes, Jo said that," I got out.
Any vague fantasy plan is lost in the reality of the immediate meeting. A school girl crush surely long gone. No doubt buried in Renee's mind as an embarrassment.
"I was just in the area getting lunch; I had no thought of seeing you, though; thanks for taking Jo under your wing."
I was making small talk while my body wanted more.
She gave me that sceptical look as if to say; I know why you are here, even after a couple of years.
I sort of looked at the menu options on the backboards above her head.
"Oh, come on, Mr Richards; I think you hoped to see me. I'd like to think that. Tell you what; come on through to the staff area, and I'll get you a coffee. It's my break turn right now."
And turning from me, she organised the three staff in the shop to look after the cooking, the front counter and the drive-through.
She opened the security door next to the main counter, and I followed her dark polo top and cute arse in black work pants down a narrow side long corridor.
She went beyond what looked like the staff area to another door. It was signed: Storeroom One, but I wasn't thinking beyond following her pert arse.
Renee flicked a switch, and there I was, blinking under bright fluorescent lights and shelves of dry produce everywhere. The background was a blur because she had her work cap off and her hairnet and was loosening her long dark locks.
She shook it sexily and added," As you liked it, as I remember."
"Yes…Yes…Renee…but…Renee," I had what I yearned for, yet I hesitated.
"No buts, Tony, except mine. Okay," and she was flesh-close in a blur of distorted intimate contact as she arched up on her toes and kissed me.
Intense, hot, saucy tongue work. No inexperienced college lass now.
My hands were on her butt cheeks, pushing her body into mine, letting her get a sense of the hardness developing quickly in my pants.
Her tongue kept up the enjoyment in our mutual mouths, but her hand was easing my pecker out of my trousers. She had a firm tugging grip. It was apparent; twenty—one—year—old Renee was a cock lover.
I hadn't realised for a while, in my intense personal cock and mind satisfaction, that Renee was easing and wriggling, hip jiggling her black pants and dark underwear down.
She licked my ear and whispered into it, "Tony, lick my pussy; please, Tony."
It was like she was playing out a college girl fantasy. How else could I explain my luck?
I was on my knees; I was at eye level with her; cute shaved curlicue; her puffy pussy was raunchy. Her labia were intricate, double twisted, twined, and crinkled pinkness. Her lower lips mesmerised my eyes. Renee had a stunningly attractive slit.
All I remember after that was her sweet fleshy taste, her moans of pleasure and her rocking thigh happiness as I tongue delved, finger petted and did the general male rummage and feel where it does the best for a young woman. I was lapping her coochie till it began to melt under my tongue in sodden delight.
She was young and eager, and, in many ways, there isn't a more attractive female. She could have slowed down the pace while I sucked her clit off to a well-deserved climax, but her pussy; just couldn't wait.
She urged me, with intense hands, to stick my dick where she needed it.
Renee's pussy was a cock's dream. A warm recess of bliss. Moist, pliant and firmly surrounding.
God, she had sexual energy to burn. I mean, I was holding up one of her legs over my thigh. Here I was, fifty-plus and getting youthful, honeyed flesh. We were standing close together, front on, but she was all eager for cock.
Renee's hips were swivelling, and her pussy was the hub of our mutual gyrations; our united genitals were a vortex of enjoyment. Our reciprocated pleasure flowing to our climaxes.
Her breath quickened. She moaned sweetly and repeatedly. I grunted like a frickin beast. Geez, did I unload a spunk spurt in her.
I felt sure the awful awkwardness had to occur now the fantasy was over in a plain storeroom reality.
But Renee was quiet and composed. She instructed me to tuck myself in as she redressed. Renee then directed me to the staff loo to tidy up with her. We both washed up quickly and quietly.
I was looking to avoid an awkward exit. However, she smiled and invited me for coffee in the staff lunchroom. I sat at a plain small table and watched her arse as she made instant coffee.
God, I had just had that beautiful body revolving off my cock. Memory and my dick were both happy as I sipped hot coffee. Renee getting me to chat about Joanne. She knew to keep the conversation light but connected.
After a few minutes, Renee looked at her watch and wished me well. She said she had to get back on duty and she would keep Jo under her wing.
Then, smiling, she said: "Thanks; there are young people with secret bucket lists too, Mr Richards; go add to your wistful list and turn another fantasy into reality. I will. You take care."
Then she ushered me back to the service counter, giving me a take-away lunch box on the house.
But as I left the shop, I realised I was taking away something more memorable.