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Message-ID: <37683asstr$1028520603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Norm DePloom" <normdeploom@attbi.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Living On Tips" (flash, oral, MF)
Date: Mon,  5 Aug 2002 00:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "LivingOnTips.txt" begin>

If you don't like sex stories, don't read it.
If you are below the arbitrary age set for your area, 
don't read it.
If for any reason it is illegal for you to read this 
story, don't read it.

Find my stories here- 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/normdeploom/

Copyright (C) 2002 Norm DePloom.  ALL Rights Reserved
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit 
without the written permission of the author.  This 
story may be freely distributed with this notice 
attached.  The author may be contacted at 'MyStores at 
normdeploom dot com'

All the characters and events in this story are 
fictional; any resemblance to real people or events is 
entirely coincidental.

Living On Tips
By
Norm DePloom

I was hired at Denny's a week after graduating from 
high school in 1968.  My intent was to save some money 
before school started again by working swing shifts as 
a busboy.  The restaurant was new so it hadn't had 
time to develop any really disgusting places yet.  The 
waitresses ranged from my age to older than my mother.  
Mabel, one of the older ones, was my favorite.  She 
had a great sense of humor and was always friendly and 
helpful.  I was amazed the first time I saw her add up 
the check for a table of ten.  She ran the pencil 
point rapidly down the line of numbers and then, 
without pausing, wrote the correct total at the 
bottom.

The first night I worked each waitress slipped me a 
couple of dollars at the end of their shift.  They did 
this to insure that I would be prompt cleaning their 
tables and that their customers would always have 
fresh coffee.  They also wanted to make sure that none 
of their tips were 'accidentally' knocked into the bus 
tray while the tables were being cleaned.  It was 
obvious that they had decided ahead of time how much 
to tip the busboys since they each gave me the same 
amount.  Around ten o'clock, after the dinner rush, 
when I was beginning to look forward to getting home 
in time to catch the Carson show, Mabel walked past me 
on her way into the back room. 

"Come with me," she said softly.  As Mabel went 
through the door into the dishwashing area she picked 
up a couple of paper placemats from the stack on the 
corner of the counter.  I followed Mabel as she walked 
past the dishwasher, through the steam bellowing from 
the dishwashing machine, and out the back door of the 
restaurant.  As soon as the door closed Mabel pushed 
me into the shadowy alcove beside the wall separating 
us from the dumpster then, after dropping the 
placemats on the ground, and without a word of 
explanation, got down on her knees and began to undo 
my trousers.  

"Wha..." 

"Shush."  Was all she said as she pulled my rapidly 
hardening cock from my pants and sucked it into her 
warm mouth.  I have to admit, Mabel knew her way 
around a cock.  She took me all the way inside her 
mouth and throat, using her tongue with skill I've 
seldom felt since.  Reaching inside my pants she 
massaged my balls with just the right firmness.  She 
had me moaning loudly and spurting down her throat in 
less that two minutes.  She held me gently in her 
mouth, still cupping my balls, until my cock stopped 
twitching.  

"Now," she said as she tucked me back into my pants 
and zipped up my fly, "you keep my tables clean and my 
customer's coffee cups filled and there will be more 
where that came from."  

Do I really have to mention that Mabel's tables always 
got cleaned first?


<1st attachment end>


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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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