It was just another one of those business trips. Hopping on a plane for a 5-hour flight to Portland, Oregon. Except it wasn't
just another
business trip, as it turned out, although I wasn't to know that as I took my seat in C4. On this occasion, I was travelling alone to participate in shooting a commercial for a well-know tire company. "Why Oregon?" you may ask. Well, the truth of the matter is that it rains a lot in October in Oregon and the commercial was to extol the benefits of the rain-dispersing properties of this particular brand of tire. All in the cause of promoting safety. But that's really by the by and not too relevant to the rest of my tale.
Arriving in Portland, I collected my bag from the carousel and went to locate my rental car. I had a 100 mile or so drive to the hotel at Rockway Beach, and didn't arrive to check in until around 5 pm. So far, I hadn't been too impressed with what little I'd seen of the local surroundings and began to wonder what might be available as far as a half-decent restaurant and dinner was concerned. I wasn't ready to look for somewhere to eat and figured I could work up a bit of an appetite by going for a walk along the beach. Luckily, it wasn't raining.
As I made my way back to the hotel, I started to look out for somewhere to eat that evening. Certainly, there were all the normal fast-food establishments but, hell, I was on an expense account trip so wanted to find something a little bit more upmarket that had a good menu and an even better wine list. And there it was... Don Alonso's; clearly, an Italian restaurant. It certainly looked decent from the outside, and was the only place that looked as if it would meet with my approval. Time was moving on so I drove back to the hotel, and showered and dressed before leaving for the restaurant.
I parked the car on the street, and entered through the front door of Don Alonso's. My first impression was that I had made a good choice... starched white tablecloths and napkins... and I was greeted at the door by the maitre d'.
"I'm sorry," I said, "but I haven't made a reservation. Can you do a table for one, please?"
"No problem, sir. Come this way," the maitre d' replied.
I was shown to my table and looked around the restaurant. It was by no means full but there were plenty of diners to keep the kitchen busy despite it being a Sunday evening. It wasn't long before a waiter came over with a menu and asked me if I would like a drink.
"Yes please. A Campari and Soda," I answered.
Shortly, a waitress brought over my drink. I tried hard not to stare at her but I'm sure I failed. Hazarding a guess, I thought she'd be in her late thirties, a few years older than myself. She was about 5'8", long mousy blonde hair styled in a pony tail; she wore a white blouse and black pants. I don't think I even noticed the colour of her eyes because I was struck cold by her tits. Not that they were large or anything like that but they were certainly more than a British Standard Handful, and very firm. "What I would give to get my hands and lips around those," I thought.
"Here's your Campari. And the menu. Would you like to see the wine list?"
"Thank you. Yes please. But do you have any specials or recommendations?" I asked
She looked at me with a glint in her eye... or was I imagining things. "I bet she's got some specials I could get my teeth around," I thought to myself. I could almost feet a twitch in my pants as the thought of sucking on her nipples flashed through my mind. As she walked away, I couldn't help but fix my eyes on her ass. I'm almost certain that she was teasing me, just the way her ass moved. A quick slap or two on that would be pretty nice.
She came back to take my order. I have to say, the food was absolutely delicious; even better than I'd anticipated. And the service? Well, nothing short of impeccable. Actually, had it been anyone else, I would have thought it was over-attentive but I would have been more than happy for her to have sat at my table and attend to me! During the course of the evening, we had a few, short conversations mostly centred around me answering questions about why I was in Rockway Beach, what it's like being in the advertising business, shooting commercials, and so on. If I hadn't been so enraptured with her voice (and tits), I would have thought I was being given the 3
rd
degree. It wasn't long before the evening was over. I'd stretched it out as long as I could... appetizer, main course, dessert, all washed down with a bottle of Chablis, then coffee and liqueur. The thought had crossed my mind to invite her for a nightcap somewhere but basically chickened out on that one. I wouldn't know where to take her (although presumed she would know a likely place) and, besides, she still had her shift to finish. Oh well, dream on.
Back at the hotel, I just couldn't get her out of my mind. Carnal thoughts were running rampant... if only! I knew that I wouldn't be able to get to sleep without taking matters into my own hand. My cock had definitely responded to her stimulus so it was inevitable that I would just have to deal with it. I imagined her being with me in the hotel room, coquettishly unbuttoning her blouse and letting it fall off her shoulders to reveal the most perfect pair of tits ever, then kneeling in front of me enticing me to fuck her tits, squeezing them together around my cock. My hand was jerking my cock at the potential of this... again, if only... and I could feel the cum rising. I squeezed my cock tight until I could hold it in no longer and then the floodgates opened. Streams of cum shot across the bed. Oh man, that was good. Pity though it was only fantasy.
The next day was all work... standing around watching the film crew shoot various scenes for the commercial. About as exciting as watching paint dry. It was supposed to rain. Didn't. Good job that a water truck had been brought in to simulate rain. Twelve hours later, the boredom relieved by moving from one location to another and more lascivious thoughts about fucking that delightful waitress, I was back in my hotel room considering what to do for dinner. Well, there was no other thing for it. Back to Don Alfonso's. I convinced myself that it was because this was the only place in town worth going to but I knew the real reason why.
Dinner passed in much the same way as the previous evening. The exception being that it was the waitress who greeted me at the door not the maitre d'; it was the waitress who took me to my table; it was the waitress who took care of me all night. Well, not quite in the way I wanted to be taken care of. There were fewer patrons in the restaurant so we were able to engage in more conversation than before. I was sure I was getting signals that this could end up being more than merely customer service. And I knew exactly what kind of service I wanted. Again, I asked myself if I could invite her for a nightcap. And again, I slinked back to my hotel and fantasized what it would be like to have her with me in bed, exploring every inch of her body... not just fucking her tits this time but tasting her pussy and cumming deep inside her.
The following day was another exhausting day of work. I could hardly stand the pace. I had made up my mind early on that I was going to enjoy my last opportunity for dinner at Don Alonso's in the company of my dream waitress. Fingers crossed it wasn't her day off.