Sherry got fucked by the Shemale hairdresser Shemale Sex Stories
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There She Is Again free porn video
This is a little work of fantasy about a waitress at a local restaurant that I see all the time. Hope you enjoy. Thanks to all the readers who helped edit this for me!
THERE SHE WAS
Every Thursday afternoon, just like clock-work she was there, not that I was anticipating it or anything. Walking through the double glass doors of Panera, in between the advertising signs for the latest taste sensation that littered the entrance area, I could see her sitting at her regular corner table in the side section of the restaurant. Each week for nearly six months she was at this same table reading text books or furiously taking notes spread randomly across the table. She obviously worked at this local Panera Bread, I had often seen her wearing the golden, button down, logo, manager’s shirts worn by the employees.
But today she was wearing an everyday outfit of jeans, a low cut sweater with a light colored camisole underneath. The graceful curve of her neck, slightly hidden behind the golden strands of her hair grabbed my attention. I could just imagine the feeling of my lips gently kissing that lovely curve. Just the sight of her presence made me smile inside.
Yeah, I know. It’s pretty strange for me to be so enthralled by a lovely university student. Frankly after working in the area for nearly twenty years, the fact that everywhere you go in this neighborhood you’re surrounded by attractive college girls has desensitized me to their presence. Just a couple of blocks from the main campus housing, this location was usually filled with students in their late teens and early twenties. But she wasn’t a typical student that swirled around the restaurant, she stood out as much more mature.
By the way she so carefully worked at her task you could see that she took her studies seriously. I’m absolutely horrible at judging a woman’s age. If I were to take a guess, I’d say she was in her late 30s, just a few years younger than me. While she tried to dress in a way that blended in to the typical student wardrobe around her, it was her eyes that gave away her maturity. There was a depth there that could only be found through experience.
As on every Thursday afternoon, she was there at her regular table. I don’t normally go for blonds. To be utterly honest, brunettes are my weakness. Still, there was something about this woman that was stunning. Her long blond hair was most often pulled back away from her face with ribbon or a U shaped barrette. Her gorgeous locks were often curled to perfection and behind her black rimmed reading glasses were the most amazing blue eyes you’d ever want to see. Her eyes are what captivated me.
Across the weeks of watching her, I would often find myself mesmerized by her eyes. It was what first caught my attention many weeks earlier. There was pleasant laughter to her gaze that was both enticing and unobtainable.
I watched as her eyes followed the lines of her textbook. You could see the wheels of her mind turning as she gleaned the concepts found in the words. Having taught a few classes for the last three years, I can almost tell if a student isn’t thinking about the topic at hand or just glazing over it. This woman wasn’t shallow or just going through the motions. She was always alertly and intently learning.
I started coming in here weekly to kill time. Well, at least that’s what I tried to convince myself in moments of clarity. I’ve got a lot of time on my hands recently. My Thursday schedule is somewhat strange. I’m an account manager for Mylan Pharmaceuticals. Being a hometown boy, I grew up here, went to the local university, knew the local businesses, and made the right contacts to find myself now in a dream job. Having worked for Mylan since completing my undergrad, the company paid for me to continue through grad school.
Now on Thursday evenings I teach an evening business class at the university as a part of a corporate connection program with the school. The university gets additional funding and Mylan gets some input on curriculum development, mostly in pharmacology but like my class, in other fields as well. As a result, we regularly recruit graduates to work for the company who are already trained in current practices of a major pharmaceutical manufacturer.
So a typical Thursday included working until two o’clock, then hanging out at Panera to review my lecture notes for this semester’s course in business ethics, and having a quick dinner before going over to the lecture hall. There wasn’t much use in going all the way home before class.
Home was on the other side of town and was empty now. When my wife took off last spring, she left me the house and a mild echo from the hardwood floors due to the sparse remaining furniture. I guess it could be worse. At least we were being cordial about the separation, and it was just a separation at this point. Although it had gone on now for a year, leaving me with the dull sense of uselessness. She waited to leave until our son had started college, saying she wanted him to have some structure before separating. It’s not like I didn’t see it coming. Our relationship had grown cold over the previous year that led to a numbness about relationships in general.
Maybe it was the loneliness. Maybe it was the fact that this woman that I had seen each week for months was so attractive to me for some reason. Maybe it was just the pleasing feeling of not eating alone, even though we were at separate tables. I don’t really know why this woman crept into my brain. I’m not sure how or why she got to my brain, but she was certainly there now, gnawing at my thoughts each week when I passed through the door. Subconsciously I wanted her to be there. I needed her to be there. During those few moments each week I felt more peaceful, as if the cold, dull nature of my existence still had hope of being thawed. Even in moments of quietness in my office, the simple thought of this woman could bring a smile to my face.
I went through the routine of standing in line for coffee and danish, my normal first round to kill time while looking through my notes. As usual, the table next to this object of my obsession was open. It was a small table, a chair on one side and the long bench for several tables on the back. Few people gravitated to this small side section of the restaurant. I think some folks didn’t even know there was a side section.
As I passed by her, we made eye contact and the customary raised eyebrows of acknowledgment that we recognized each other. God how awkward was that, almost like a school kid passing a note to the cute girl in class, ‘do you like me? … check yes or no’. But it wasn’t any more awkward than prior weeks. Each week brought a more comfortable and casual greeting. I took my seat at the table, being assure that the angle of my seat would permit me to glance up from time to time and take in her beauty. Yes, I admit it. I am a bit of a voyeur.
After an hour or so of their great light roast coffee and reading over notes, I realized I was more than ready for the class that I would teach in a few hours. So I leaned back in my seat, went online with my ipad and thumbed through an online news site I often visit, killing time until grabbing dinner before heading out. I glanced over at the other table to see that my Thursday friend had put away the notes and was quietly reading. My glance lingered too long. It was a self indulgent glance at best. Okay, it was more than a glance. Almost as if the rest of the restaurant was rushing in random directions in double time while the image of this ravishing woman was in serene slow motion.
I was so captured by her beauty that it took a moment to see that the book she was reading was one I recognized. It was a fairly common economics book used by most business schools for advanced students. Wow. She was digging into some pretty heavy reading. Gorgeous and intelligent, what a deadly combination. I’ve always had a thing for intelligent women. This isn’t th
e stuff you just pick up to relax by the fireplace and read with a glass of wine.
As I was mulling that over in my mind, she looked up and caught me staring at her. Well there’s not much of a way out of this one so I might as well push forward. ‘Pretty heavy stuff you’re reading there. Who do you have for economics?’ I tried to ask casually, to avoid addressing the fact that I was gazing at her like a smitten kid.
‘I have Gruber for this one, and macro economics.’ she replied. Her soft, polite, voice had an undertone of self-confidence and clarity.
‘Gruber?! God, I thought he was dead. He was old when I had him.’
She smiled at my attempt of humor. ‘Yeah, some of us took his class thinking he might not make it through the semester and we’d all get passing grades under some sorta remorse clause.’ She smirked at her own comments. ‘I do okay in the other classes, but I just don’t get most of this class.’ she seemed to be breaking away from a conversation between strangers and speaking a little more openly.
‘Well if you ever need some help with understanding him, just ask. I’m a survivor of six of his classes.’ I offered.
It was approaching dinnertime so I stood to go get in line for real food. ‘Need anything while I’m up?’ I asked, just trying to be polite while passing her table. ‘From the looks of things, today’s your day off.’ She gave me a mildly puzzled look at first, but noticed that I clearly was looking at the way she was dressed. ‘I’m kind of a regular around here.’ I explained.
‘I’m usually the one waiting on people here.’ she smiled. ‘No, but thanks.’
An hour later as I was finishing my dinner and just pulling my things together in preparation for leaving, She suddenly picked up her textbook and came over to my table. Sitting down she placed her book open, slightly facing me. ‘Okay, I’ll take you up on that help.’ she said almost as a request. ‘Can you explain to me the concepts of long-run aggregate supply as they relate to output and economic growth?’ she inquired.
‘Wow, get right to the heart of it!’ I replied in a bit of amazement at the question. ‘Well there are two primary models that have been developed to explain what determines long-term growth and it can differ in various countries, rather in various economic environments.’ For the next ten minutes I tried to explain a pretty technical concept related to economics and marketing. She drank it in, almost like an alcoholic taking a next drink. Unlike some of the students I taught in the class that would begin in an hour or so, she wanted to understand what I taught her. She even knew enough to ask the right questions in response.
Before I knew it, I had to end things or be late for my class. ‘Sorry that I have to cut us off. But I’m teaching a class in Business Ethics at seven. I hope what we talked about helps you understand where your prof is coming from.’ I really didn’t want to end the conversation. She was such fun to talk to, the energetic way she was taking in information and her pleasant demeanor made even macro-economics interesting. A gorgeous woman who actually understands economic principles was a rare find.
‘Thanks for taking the time to help. This is starting to make sense. Gruber can be so dull at times. I wish I had taken these classes with you instead.’ She spoke with pleasant appreciation. I hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by her kindness.
‘Well, I only teach one course each semester and it’s usually not the technical courses. I actually work for Mylan, but they have me teach as an adjunct. You never know, you might end up in one of my classes yet.’
That evening as I tried to give my lecture, I couldn’t keep my mind focused on my class. My mind kept drifting to this lovely young woman. Her charming nature had left a peaceful imprint on my thoughts that I hoped wouldn’t be erased by my painfully routine lecture. I wanted to hold on to those few moments I had shared with her, yet I really needed to get her out of my mind. Separation aside, legally I was still married.
A WEEK OF WAITING
There she is again, a week later, right on schedule. Students were everywhere, walking across campus and along the streets. I was barely out of my car when I saw her lovely golden hair. This time I could see her from the parking lot though the window, at her regular table. The glare of the sun against the window didn’t obscure the fact that she was especially breathtaking today. The sun’s light, shining in the window caused her golden hair to glow with a rich warmth.
Winter’s sweaters and coats were left behind as a first warm day hit. She was wearing a simple blue button down blouse with a white, light weight sweater over it. As I walked past the window, heading to the door, I could see she was intently reading a textbook. Her legs clad in jeans with the ripped out knees let a small portion of her leg show through. Sitting on one leg she had folded under her, she was wearing flip flops, a true sign spring was just around the corner. For a split second the imagery of me licking the flesh exposed by her torn jeans passed through my brain. I literally shook my head to clear the thought before ordering.
With my shoulder brief case filled with papers to grade, a fresh cup of coffee and danish in hand, I headed to that section of seating. I glanced around only to find that my regular table was occupied. While looking around the side room for a place to sit, I was almost run over by two very active children and a frazzled mother chasing after them. As I turned to leave for the main seating area, she saw me. ‘Hey Prof., you can join me over here,’ she called. I sheepishly hesitated.
‘You sure it’s okay? I won’t disrupt your studying, will I?’
‘No problem, come on over.’ she encouraged as she moved some of her books placing them on the bench seating next to her, freeing half the table for me.
Well this beats eating a frozen dinner at home by myself, I thought as I put my coffee down. ‘Thanks.’ Setting my briefcase against my chair, I tugged out my iPad with my lecture notes for the next class.
‘Hey, by the way, since I’m not your prof, let’s just go with ‘Jim”. I offered.
‘Yeah, I guess we never really introduced ourselves properly. I’m Jillian. But I go by Jill. Just don’t call me Jilly cause I’ll think my dad’s calling.’ We shook hands, somewhat formally and somewhat sarcastically making light of the fact that we knew each other but didn’t have names to go with the knowledge.
Rather than read her textbook, or for my part – look over my lecture notes, we sat and made simple small talk as I ate my danish. Jill finished off some sort of concoction of coffee with flavoring, whip cream, and chocolate drizzle. I guess I’m old school. Coffee should be black with no other additives in my book. But folks seem to think differently about a ‘coffee shop’ these days. She looked adorable sipping her concoction, as a bit of whipped cream touched her nose. Before I could say anything, she grinned and wiped it away with a napkin, somewhat embarrassed by the moment. The boyish grin on my face gave away the thought that I had seen it and was just fine with her being very normal.
We talked about upcoming changes on campus, outlook for next fall’s football season, and radical changes in the student housing facilities. Then we got a bit more personal than most people would on a first discussion with a stranger.
Jill came from a family of lower middle class oil field workers. She was the first in her family to have the opportunity to go to college even if it was as an adult student, and she wasn’t going to blow it. Her husband had died suddenly two years earlier after falling asleep at the wheel while driving home from a week of working a new oil well. It just seemed like the right time to venture out on her own. She had to work her way through school, paying most of the bill as she went, between working at Panera and the insurance payout from her husband’s d
eath. Her work ethic was pretty amazing and her efforts were paying off with scholarships. You could see the passion for learning as she talked about classes, majors, programs, and grant opportunities. She even told me about a guy she had dropped after a couple of dates because he was interfering with her study time.
‘So do you have kids?’ she asked abruptly. Seeing I was caught off guard by the question, she glanced down at my wedding band.
‘Oh, yeah. Yeah, we have a son.’ I replied in a mildly awkward fashion.
‘And your wife?’ she pressed on. I hesitated for a moment and she clearly caught on.
‘Well, let’s just say Gwen is not in the picture any more.’ I quietly offered.
‘Oh god, sorry. I have a tendency to stick my foot in it all the time.’ She was clearly worried that she had offended me by asking.
‘No, no, no, it’s okay. I’ve already come to terms with it.’ I smiled to try to assure her it was alright. Well that was out of the way. ‘I’m not even sure why I keep wearing this ring. You’d think after a year, I’d get the hint that it’s kind of over. We’re still married and everything, but I haven’t even seen her in months.’ I mused. ‘You probably wouldn’t have asked me to sit down with you if you knew I was a ‘separated guy’.’ I smiled letting her know I was kidding with her.
‘Hey, I’d flirt with any prof just to get free tutoring,’ she quickly retorted in open sarcasm. ‘I have a daughter. She’s seventeen – soon to be eighteen and hardly around much anymore. Seems like just yesterday…’ She drifted off in her thought. I’m sure it was toward happier times before her husband’s death.
‘Let me guess,’ I interjected to soften the mood, ‘she doesn’t want to be seen with her mom anymore in public, she’s gone all the time ‘out with friends’, and she has mood swings that make you feel like you’re on a roller coaster.’ At that Jill smiled and gave me a knowing look.
‘You’ve been there I take it?’ She asked.
‘Yeah, our son just turned 20 and he decided to go to college in Kansas City, far away from his bickering parents,’ I confided. ‘Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t in an all out war. But he felt like he was caught in the middle sometimes. I don’t blame him much for going away to school.’
By the time dinner was over we were chatting like old friends. It was so comfortable to have dinner with someone and enjoy the banter of communication. I guess I didn’t realize how much I missed simply talking to someone. She was pleasant, articulate, and utterly amazing. Often I’d forget how beautiful she was, so focused on the depth and pleasing demeanor of personality.
‘Well, I have to head on out. My class starts at 7.’ I finally said, realizing it was already after six.
‘What lecture hall are you in?’ She inquired.
‘Well, I’m in Madison 223 this year. It’s fairly small. Not many take this kind of elective course. I only have about 32 students this semester.’ I threw my final items down in the brief case and placed it on the seat as I rose. I collected my dishes and then continued by picking up dishes Jill had finished with. Walking carefully, trying not to drop things, I finally got to the trashcans.
I turned around to return to my seat and there she was. She had followed me, bringing my brief case and her books. I was a little caught off guard by her being this close but she easily lifted the shoulder strap of my brief case and placed it on my shoulder for me. Then she patted my shoulder on top of the strap and smiled at me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to just thank her or hug her. It had been a while since a lovely woman had taken the time to pamper me even in the little things. ‘Thanks Jill. You off to class somewhere tonight?’
‘No. Just Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.’ She replied as she buttoned her sweater, preparing to leave also.
‘Well, hope to see you next week, then.’ I spoke with and optimistic anticipation of her reply.
Mikayla
- 03.03.2022
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