"Earning Tips" Part 1

Tags: M/f, oral, not slow

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“God, the tits on her!”

I rolled my eyes subtly. The two older men were almost fully twisted around in their chairs, leering at the blonde server relaying our order to the bartender.

“And did you see her ass when she walked off?”

I glanced at the last member of this foursome. He met my eyes, and very unsubtly rolled his.

“The girl looks like the letter ‘P’ from the side... y’know, with a ‘d’ comin’ off the backside.” I looked over at the bar, finally. Sadly, Ted was right. The young woman was stretched on her tippy-toes at the bar, in perfect profile. The tightly-fitted country club server’s uniform didn’t leave all that much to the imagination.

The old boys turned back. “Wouldn’t mind my ‘d’ comin’ off her backside,” chuckled Glenn. “Plenty of cushion-”

“You know, she’s probably 16 years old, fellas.” I was too sweaty and pissed off from such a bad outing. I hadn’t gone 10 over par since high school, and the jabs and insults are surprisingly a lot worse now that they were coming from 60-something execs.

Claude leaned forward, adding, “So you know what that means.” He dropped his voice conspiratorially, despite the dining room being empty at 4PM. Dramatically, he whispered, “Tik Tok!”

Thankfully, this was enough to redirect the topic. Claude, probably in his early 40s, was used to being the ‘young’ one in the circle, acting like an anthropologist explaining these new generations to the boomers.

“...always on their phones...no attention span...”

“...no manners...she didn’t even say ‘sir’ to me...”

“... worse than millennials!”

*Hey, wait a minute.* “I’m a millennial, Mr. Barker.”

“Sure, but your old man raised you right.”

*Barely raised me at all, Glenn, he was too busy golfing and drinking with you.*

I checked out from the conversation. My mind was unfortunately still thinking about the server. Of course, I wanted to think I was above the lechery the old boys displayed openly, but it was inescapable. She really was unbelievably curvy, overly gifted in the areas that mattered, and kind of slim in the rest. On top of it all, her heart-shaped babyface, rosy cheeks, and green eyes really sealed it. I could almost feel my cheeks going a little rosy themselves... and could feel something else stirring...

I saw her approaching from the kitchen, a pitcher of water in hand, thank god. I coughed and smiled back at her, and luckily the table took the cue to shut up on the generational shit-talk. She began pouring, the silence punctuated by the clinking of ice on glass. I noticed her hand trembling a little, her grip maybe a bit awkward. *She must be new,* I thought. I peeked at her nametag, pinned to her... chest. *Callie? I don’t think I remem-*

The stillness was shattered, literally. Her grip must have slipped while she was pouring my water, as was my luck that day. The front of the pitcher had cracked right off, water and shards of glass spread all over my polo and khakis. I pushed back from the table out of instinct.

“Ohmygod I am so sorry!” cried Callie, reaching into my lap to pick up a big shard of pitcher. I was soaked through, and looking down I could see my semi-erection perfectly outlined. The girl reached for another piece, the old men howling with laughter, and her fingers accidentally brushed over my shaft. As she reached for a third, I gently grabbed her wrist.

“Hey, I got this.” She looked up at me with entirely disproportionate terror, and I mustered as much good grace as I could project outwards. “It’s just a mistake, no worries.” I stood up and let the mess fall on the floor, where it would be easier to clean up anyway. Hurriedly excusing myself, I made for the bathrooms.

Moments later, I stood in the single-occupancy, khakis off and under the hot blast of the hand dryer. I looked down, my soaked boxers on the floor... *I’ve gone full Pooh Bear,* I laughed to myself.

The handle on the bathroom door rattled slightly. “Occupied!” I called, but the rattling didn’t stop. Too late I realized I had forgotten to lock the door, and I watched helplessly as the handle turned and the door started swinging open. “Wait-”

The increasingly familiar green eyes poked around the door’s edge, quickly followed by the rest of the teenage server. Callie scurried in and swiftly shut the door in her wake. In a voice just above a whisper, loud enough to be heard over the still blaring dryer, she said, “I am so sorry about that!”

“I- I-” I stammered. “I said ‘I got this’ and- what are you doing?”

She locked the door and approached, and I realized she had a small towel in her hand. “Apologies don’t count if you don’t try to make up for messing up,” she said, like she was recounting some kindergarten rule.

I was stunned into silence as she reached me, and the dryer turned off at the same moment. Standing this close to me, I could tell she was a little short, no more than 3 inches over 5 feet. The strong orange and jasmine of freshly applied perfume was intoxicating at short range, and my face must have shown it. She tilted her head slightly, smirking, and pushed the button to the dryer under which I dumbfoundedly still held my pants.

It wasn’t until she fluffed the towel and started dropping to her knees that I found my voice again. “What the f- what are you doing?” I whispered harshly.

“Making up for messing up,” she sang back. My jaw dropped a little looking down, seeing this girl on her knees with my cock not 12 inches from her face. WIth a look of concentration, she quickly assessed my very damp legs. She ran her towel from one knee upward, making small circles on my quads. The towel was still warm from the hamper, a pleasant contrast. I tilted my head back, as if looking at the ceiling would change the circumstances.

“Jesus Christ!” I nearly jumped as I felt a blast of cooler air straight on my tip. Reflexively, my kegels contracted, causing my growing erection to jump a little. I looked down again to where Callie was literally blowing, her cheeks were all puffed up as she aimed a jet stream of air directly at my junk. She had reached my waist with the towel on one side, sliding it up under the hem of the shirt, and working across my lower stomach slowly. The dangling towel provided me with brief modesty as well as cutting off the teenaged blow dryer, but the warm fluffy fabric feathered over my little friend. “I think I’m good now...” I attempted to protest.

“I’m not even halfway done!”

She swapped the towel to her other hand, and her free hand gripped my hip. Did she need the added leverage? Or was she just trying to stop me from running away? As the towel worked down my opposite leg, her gusting resumed. Despite every part of me willing against it, my erection was on its way to full force, and I could feel the cool air working the underside of my shaft and a bit on the sack.

The dryer completed another cycle, and I slammed the button again. “Please at least tell me you’re 18,” I pleaded. Without breaking the air current, she simply looked up and met my gaze.

“This isn’t cutting it,” she said, as if to herself, disregarding my last plea. With a look of renewed concentration, she began toweling the inside of my thigh.

A very small and sad “Oh no...” escaped my throat and was drowned out by the whirring machinery. *If we hadn’t crossed a line already, this is it...* I closed my eyes as my panic rose a little higher, but that also meant I could feel every touch just a little more vividly. She gently slid the towel up my thigh, nearly all pretense of drying me gone. Her small fingers cradled my balls through the towel; I felt the air current on my shaft change to a warm breath as she brought her face closer.

“Almost done,” she said softly, and tenderly she wrapped her plump lips around my cock’s head.

I dropped my khakis and gripped the dryer with both hands, my eyes clenched together. My breathing shallowed out as I felt her tongue circle my tip. Despite myself, the sensation was electric. I tried to project the image of another woman onto the back of my eyelids, *Hell, even my ex would do,* but I failed. The young girl began taking a little more of me in her mouth, and I couldn’t help but open my eyes to watch. Her own lids were heavy as she worked, and I watched as I disappeared bit by bit.

I could feel her low moan as she took a mouthful in, and I answered in kind. The dryer went suddenly silent. Her eyes flew open as she pulled her head back, and she dropped the towel from her hand to reach up and press the button again. “That is your job,” she scolded. “And this...” her tongue flicked out, and she licked my shaft from root to tip. “...is mine.” The girlish timbre had almost entirely disappeared, a lustful huskiness replacing it.

With vigor, as if she was trying to finish me before the dryer finished again, she dove in. Her hand cupped my sack, this time skin-on-skin, and another wrapped around the base of my cock. She took me in her mouth again, bobbing up and down; she alternated one hand squeezing on my shaft and the other delicately rolling my balls.

With all the build up, with the titillating taboo of some girl almost half my age going down on me, I could feel I was getting close. My nuts tightened, and I think she could feel, because her blonde ponytail swayed back and forth a little faster. Locking eyes with me, Callie put her hands on either hip, breathed in deeply, and made my member disappear down her throat. The last thing I felt before whiting out was her throat muscles gripping repeatedly as she dry-swallowed, and I obliged by cumming.

The dryer died out one last time, leaving just the sound of my thudding pulse in my ears. I refocused my vision, staggering back half a step. With flushed cheeks, the kneeling girl dabbed the corners of her mouth with the towel. “Does my lipstick still look alright?” she cheerfully queried. I nodded blankly, which apparently wasn’t a good enough answer. She popped up to her feet, and gently nudged past me to get to the sink mirror. I caught another whiff of that orange and jasmine, and my knees turned briefly to jelly.

My stunned reverie was broken as Callie shoved my boxers and pants at me. “You shouldn’t come out for another minute, it would be too sus. Your table said they’d wait for you to order, so I don’t think anyone missed me...” I watched her exaggerate the sway of her hips as she walked back to the door. She pulled it open slowly to confirm the coast was clear, then turned back to look at me. All the bravado disappeared as she gave me a cute, awkward smile and threw up a peace sign, then she slipped away.