This story is like the rest of my stories in that I do not write them with much descriptive sex in them. I like to think that my style is more of describing the chase, than the actual catch. It is just a quirk I have, although this story should have enough facts for you to fill it in if you use your imagination. The idea for this story came one day when the wife dragged me off shopping. After a lunch my mind wandered off on its own while I waited at one store or another for the wife.
I have to thank (Hale1) for the fine editing skills without which this effort would not be readable. It never fails, when I get a work back I always have to change something so any mistakes are mine.
*
A while back the four of us were shopping in the largest mall for a hundred miles. My wife, Alice and I were shopping with our friends Beth and Jim. Alice and Beth just had to do this trip twice a year and Jim and I accommodated them by going along: Mostly to make sure they didn't get carried away and empty our accounts buying that outfit they just had to have. The girls also needed pack mules to carry their purchases and we were the only pack mules they knew. That's what they told us anyway.
They had killed the morning going from shop to shop, and I'm sure they had hit some of those stores twice. It sure felt like it anyway. Jim and I had gotten a few things we needed like that new skill saw and a few new wrenches we didn't have at home. You know the important stuff. At least the two of us felt like we hadn't wasted the time on this trip.
It was coming up to lunch time, and Jim and I were starving. A few years back on one of these shopping safaris the wives had agreed that we guys could choose where we ate lunch. I guess they wanted us to feel like we were appreciated for more than our wallets and strong arms. Jim and I knew they felt sorry for us being used as pack mules being dragged from one store to another, so when they had conceded the point on lunches to us we were happy. At least we could get the biggest and juiciest burgers in the mall and they wouldn't complain too much. Yeah right, if you believe that I know about this bridge that's going cheap.
The first restaurant we saw that day was a place called "Hound Dogs". Jim and I had heard the hullabaloo about this place when it opened two months ago, so naturally that's where we decided we were going to eat.
The girls objected at first but we reminded them of our agreement and they relented. That is one thing about the two of them, if they agreed to do something they would do anything to keep that agreement rather than face the two of us teasing them about being Indian givers or deal breakers or any other saying we could come up with.
The restaurant was a rip off of the very popular restaurant chain "Hooters." The waitresses were all scantily clad females and the main things on the menu were burgers and beer. Oh sure they had some other things like ribs, and they even had a salad or two, but they were in business to serve men, and the waitress's dress code was the thing that brought in the guys.
As we entered the restaurant we did take some heat from our wives about our choice of the eating establishment. Jim and I reminded them that if we had to traipse around with them all day looking interested while they tried on one outfit after another we deserved the freedom of our choice. They finally conceded that we had the choice of where we ate on these shopping trips and reluctantly followed us inside.
Sure enough a pair of double D cups on a cute brunette met us at the door. Jim and I sure enjoyed the wiggling ass she displayed as she led us to our table. After taking our drink orders and giving us all a menu she strolled off.
The first thing we saw on the menu was a notice that if we ordered their burgers they would be served by a waitress with the same sized boobs as the corresponding letter in the menu. That being, an A was a 3/8 lb. Burger served by a waitress in an A cup bra, B was a ΒΌ lb burger, and C was a 5/8 lb burger, and the D was a ΒΎ lb burger. You get the idea.
Jim and I jokingly made a big deal out of deciding which size of burger to order and the girls gave us a rough time by telling us not to bite off more than we could chew. That got some chuckles from the table behind us.
I should describe the uniforms the waitresses wore in this place. The bottoms were Daisy Duke super shorts in a bright red colour. Heck the belt line was so low they looked like they would fall off if the waitress wiggled too hard and the cut in the rear was so high half of the waitress's buns were on display. They were so tight they almost looked like they were painted on. We could definitely see the camel toe that's for sure. When the waitresses got closer those shorts almost looked like they were see through they were so thin, and the name Hound Dogs was stencilled in a pattern all over them in small letters. On the rear of these shorts the word BUN was stencilled in capitol letters on each cheek.
The tops they wore were string bikini tops that matched the colour, fabric and pattern of the shorts and there was no mistaking that those tops displayed more than they hid. Our waitress brought our drinks and took our order. As she walked away Jim commented that it was a real treat to see a waitress kneading those BUNS before they went into the oven. Our wives didn't appreciate that comment for some reason.
When our orders were delivered the waitress with the corresponding boob size to the menu item brought out the order. I guess that's why they sold a lot of big burgers here. Jim and I had decided that C was going to be our order. Our wives told us that we probably should have chosen something smaller as they started on their salads.
At this point I will describe our wives and the relationship we had with them. Our two wives were both five foot five and were pretty much the same shape. Actually they both went to the same gym and worked hard to keep those shapes. They both had athletically shapely figures, with tight asses, on great legs. The only difference's between our two wives was in their hair colour and their boob sizes. Alice, my wife, had brown hair and her boobs were a solid C cup, while Beth's were only an A cup and she was a blond. Beth's boob size was a bit of a sore spot for her but both Jim and I told her that it didn't really matter. Of course she didn't believe us.