Jake's Fine Afternoon Off of Work

The little Italian restaurant survived as a gem for two decades between a laundry mat with a Cinderella wall mural and a bicycle shop. On the left front of Osteria's sustained an outside bar, separated by brick walls, open on weekends. Bus boys shot out of dark alleys with grey tubs of ice, beer bottles, and wine. Peter bartended. The twenty six year old wore tattoos crawling up his neck and down his sleeves pouring icy beer and cabernet into glasses suspended by ladies' fingers. They adored his penetrating blue eyes. Assortment of speculations to what warranted weekly blow jobs from hot waitresses in the bread room passed through employees, but all agreed, this Lake Pond pick-up artist, nothing less than extraordinary.

Thursday nights, Peter worked the stove boiling up spaghetti, ravioli, and linguini. Opposite wood doors with pinholes flapped endless business as waiters and waitresses- hot, penguin-clothed rushed him with yellow tickets flapping like seagull wings. To the left of Peter as he stirred pots listening to sports on a small radio: the pizza station, and to the right, dishwashers. Diagonal, the cold station stood for pre-made salads and whipped up deserts made on order. Jake, the best cold station worker often scheduled on Thursdays envied Peter.

Last Thursday when the night winded down, Jake had an order for Cannoli and had to refill the soft cream pouch. He opened the walk-in freezer. In the far back hung thick plastic blinds that separated the ice cream tubs from prep. He heard soles of shoes scraping the textured cement. Traveling with stealth footsteps hummed out by the freezer's motor up to the plastic wall. And one finger he created a peeping crevice. His heart broke as Peter's cock slid so easy between Sabrina's petite ass cheeks. So easy he pounded her with musicality and rhythm. Jake's favorite waitress bent over holding a pack of Marlboro Lights. He hid one rose for her behind two rows of to-go house salads. He salivated over her smooth white tits swaying over the Strawberry Vanilla bucket. An erection burned in the frozen temperature. His body numb. Peter cupped her tits and moaned above the spinning fans. His orgasm massaged his work stress as he flooded his condom still inside her. Jake scurried out to cream the Cannoli.

Tonight, the rose lay stiff, dead of frost bite in an empty chrome shelf. Sabrina came in bending her black cotton pants over the bread box showing her tight ass to Peter as he strained ravioli. Both smiled at each other. Oblivious to all other kitchen workers who hadn't been laid in months, even years.

Jake stepped out for a smoke. His new Miami Dolphins hat, bright teal, carried lettuce particles on the bill. He palmed his gut fantasizing ripping the fat and tossing in the dumpster. At nineteen, he often lifted free barbells but lacked discipline to curb a diet of pasta, pizza, soda, and fries. Jake exhaled a cloud of tobacco and leaped over a puddle that reflected the red door of the secret bread room. He opened it expecting to see empty plastic crates. But instead, Peter's cock inside Paula's throat. Her mouth smooshed up against his pelvis. Peter stretched out up top sucking in a joint held steady by smirk, "Jake my boy?" Jake watched the whites of Paula's eyes as she contemplated Peter's nostrils barreling out snow white smoke. She kept slurping on his dick searching for no consideration upon Jake. He slammed the door to a suction cupped rhythm of a tongue and lips fucking a hard penis. With the door shut, the night stood black and silent.

That night, Jake went home. His parents sat in the dark with Heinekens watching an Ohio State football game replay. He absconded to his room of 1970's plaid wallpaper and fell to a beige couch Goodwill wouldn't take. He ballooned his lungs on a two foot emerald green plastic bong and counted the water stained popcorn on his ceiling to Eddie Vedder's cover of Redemption Song. He unzipped his pants and brought out his penis to the cold A/C. His left hand portraying Paula's tongue like a wet serpent snuggling underneath his testicles. He stroked his erection into Marble as his right hand being the soft insides of Sabrina's wet pussy. An unwarranted image of Peter's cock sliding in his ass flashed quick and fleeting. He just wanted to fit in at work and what better way than spilling his come all over everyone followed by song and dance in the back parking lot after clean up. But instead, his cock: small, curled up, and angry; mangled in Calvin Klein boxer shorts as he sliced raw carrot sticks into circular orange chips. He drifted into his Dolphin pillow cases. His mind leaped into the Milky Way galaxy and an idea soothed him into drooling a puddle over the cartoon ocean mammal. I will ask the boss if I can work the bar Sunday night for experience.

He passed Sabrina wearing Daisy Dukes and clamping her paycheck. She looked raccoonish, hungover, and carried a moist aura of strawberries. She smiled with her eyes to Jake leaving her mouth low and tired. His face leaped onto his right shoulder for his eyes followed her bubble ass spilling out with soft white cheeks shaking on each step into white sunlight of the back door. His cock grew two inches as the boss said, "Next."

"Mr. Osteria, may I train working the bar sometime?" Jake said.

"I didn't know you had any interest and no you cannot. You need to be twenty one," he said.

"Can I train on the pizza station or oven?"

"We can try the pizza in a few weeks. Okay Jake?

Jake shuffled himself into the backdoor sunlight. The hood of his 2020 white Camaro ornamented with Sabrina spread eagle. "No fucking way, this is your car?" she said.

"That is my car," he said.

"Can I drive it sweetie?"

Jake's thoughts became large and hard cracking the insides of his skull. His wit constipated with fear as all of his "thinking blood" siphoned to his pulsating cock. Don't be a pussy and just let her drive it dude. Don't say something like 'what do I get out of it?' You have talent driving, show her that first. Let her feel your speed and quick turns.

"How about I drive us to that big parking lot by the beach and then you can have the wheel?" Perfect! A good balance between desperate loser and stupid asshole!

"Okay let me get my purse."

Jake roared the engine down the beach road. He swore he saw Peter fucking somebody by a palm tree. The nerve of that idiot. The balls of his feet vibrated the car with a rhythmic purr as he watched Sabrina's legs fall apart for the sun and his eyes. Her gold thighs splayed wide with her bare flesh riding up to a canopy of confetti jean threads that dangled from her Daisy Dukes.

He braked by a cove of palm trees where soft sand peppered the parking lot. Sabrina slid into Jakes pants as she pinched gum out of her snapping white teeth and tossed it to the breeze. Jake tightened his abdomen to pick up his ass and slide his jeans and boxers down. Her cold wet lips kissed the top of his pale cock causing the shaft to spin in circles from a flood of blood flow. Her tongue seized it as she slid his entire dick to tickle the top of her throat. Jake's curved cock: wet, hard, smelling of Gardenia perfume. He reached hard and pulled down her daisy dukes burning his biceps. She had no underwear and plopped in God's sun bare assed. Jake palmed her cold wobbly cheeks as if his hand landed on the untouchable moon and squeezed. His fingers slid softly into the curves of her bottom as he found her warm pussy.

Jake desired hiding his cock between her ass cheeks into her soft pussy for four months. He watched himself flip her into his passenger window. He saw the cop car rolling in as it played out like an 80's film in the rear-view mirror. Sabrina dangled her head out the window as a mop of twirling blonde hair. Jake fumbled with the condom and could the see the silhouette of the cop in through the cruiser windshield. Lighting liquified his body as he jolted in madness and slid his cock in and pounded her ass. He remembered fucking and looked like a pro. She groaned louder than the flapping palm fronds. The police car braked with its plastic blue and red-light bar still off and Jake pounded, and pounded, and pounded and spilled his come all over her wobbling ass.

The officer rolled down his window. Jake spun around his open jaw and said, "take me to jail, I don't care, on Monday, I am going to be fucking king!" The dark sunglasses and mustache above the metal badge pierced reflection out from the orange sun as the officer silently took his cruiser out of park and sped off flipping a zippo to light his Camel. I remember fucking in my twenties. The Officer thought. The best of times!