She merely nodded and poured their coffee, or counted out their change, and moved on to the next table, where she heard it all over again. At one table there had been a family, a man and a woman, and two children, one aged 8, the other a toddler. When she had come for their order, they hemmed and hawed indecisively while the person at the next table rattled his empty cup suggestively. When she asked if they would like a few more moments to choose, the father said that they had certainly waited long enough for her, she could wait for them. So Melissa stood there patiently while the family went over their menu yet again, and the person at the other table began to pound his cup and make loud coughing sounds. They eventually decided, and she brought them their food, but the youngest child did not eat it. Instead he dumped his juice all over the table, painted the walls with his scrambled eggs, and dropped bits of toast on the person sitting behind him. This was essentially how her day. In matching, pretty underwear she looked at me expectantly. My fingers fumbled slightly on my buttons, and then my shirt followed the shrug and blouse onto the chair. I stepped out of my jeans and trunks in one go and kicked them to one side. My erection waved with the movement and then stilled. She wriggled out of the knickers first, not losing eye contact, and then shuffled her shoulders out of the bra, and unclasped it. We stood in front of each other naked at last. We both stepped forwards, away from the clothes, and stopped a foot apart. My hands seemed to reach up of their own accord, and caressed the broad nipples of her breasts. She closed her eyes then, relinquishing her control over my gaze, and giving me permission to admire her at last. I ran my fingers over her, cupping, weighing, enjoying the pliant firmness. I stepped a little closer and took a deep breath at her neck, drawing in her perfume, spicy and flowery. My cock left a snail trail across her belly. I would.
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