I was traveling in another city when I met Sally. She was a waitress at a small 24-hour diner, working the night shift, when I approached her and asked for a coffee.
“Still out this late, mister?”
I nodded.
“I‘ve got some business in town and unfortunately I can’t get a motel room, so I thought I'd leave early and check out the town.”
“Not worth it,” she said curtly, laughing. “You'd better be well rested when you go to your appointment.”
“Well,” I replied, “I don't think the motel room situation has changed much in the last few hours.”
She smiled. “Just come with me,” she said, “I'm almost off work.”
I looked at her for the first time. She was plain but not unattractive, had long wavy red hair and looked quite sexy. She was slim and had a good figure, but it was her small breasts that caught my eye. It wasn‘t until now that I noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra and that her small, beautifully shaped breasts were showing through her clothes.
My cock seemed to awaken from its hibernation and began to rise in approval and I saw the waitress in a different light. I was undoubtedly more attracted to younger women in their twenties. She was probably at least in her late 30s or even past 40, but that didn‘t make her any less attractive. On the contrary. Suddenly I found it very exciting to go to bed with a more experienced woman. I’d never slept with a woman older than 29, and I began to feel a childlike nervousness, even though I was certainly the more experienced of the two of us.
We soon found ourselves on the subway – on our way to her apartment. We started talking and she told me more about herself. That she had to do this night job because she had separated from her husband. Apparently he had turned out to be a real asshole after the hasty marriage. He hadn‘t beaten her, but he had belittled and humiliated her because he didn’t like her body. Apparently, he felt cheated because he didn‘t like the shape of her breasts and hadn’t had a chance to “test” them before the wedding. As if one could take a “test drive” – or rather a “test ride” – before the wedding.
She had played this undignified game for 20 years before she had had enough and left him.
Meanwhile, my insides had become a roller coaster of emotions. First, I felt sorry for her because she had put up with him for so long and endured his humiliation. On the other hand, her descriptions fueled my hope that she had exactly the kind of breasts I liked so much: small, slightly tubular, with a large nipple at the tip that spanned the entire front of the breast like a cute but hot umbrella. My cock confirmed my hopes with a hot pulsation.
When we finally reached her small apartment – really nothing more than a room with a small kitchenette and a tiny bathroom – I wondered where I was ever going to sleep, if not with her on the small sofa bed, or if she had the same plan as me from the beginning.
We looked at each other, undecided. Then I grabbed my heart and said: “You never intended for me to sleep with you, did you?”
Her eyes no longer held mine at that question. She lowered her eyes sheepishly and managed only a hoarse “Yes”.
She cleared her throat and then it just came out: “I haven‘t had good sex for more than ten years, oh no, I haven’t had sex at all, except for that little hustler who usually only did it with older gentlemen and took care of me out of pure compassion.”
I could feel her fighting back tears now. “I‘m so fucking insecure,” she said, “he’s always made me feel like I'm too ugly, like my tits are ugly. Are they?”
We looked into each other's eyes for a long time before I started undressing her. Very slowly and carefully. First the jacket, then the top that had protected her breasts so well. I slowly took off her shirt, slowly and carefully. I deliberately took my time so as not to suggest any stress. Stress was the last thing she needed right now.
Out of the corner of my eye I realized with satisfaction that I had raised my hopes. However, I continued undeterred and began to unbutton her jeans. I pulled them down to her ankles. Then she gently pulled them off one leg at a time and used her hands to pull the socks off her feet.