Big Tits in London
Leaving London, after a short visit last week, I had time on my hands at Heathrow Airport, which is how they plan it so that visitors like me can shop. I decided to eat, instead. A restaurant, some "Olde English" bullshit place, caught my eye and they had a special on a "genuine" English breakfast. Taking a seat that left room for my luggage, I grabbed the menu. Sure enough, they offered sausage, bacon, eggs, red beans, a cooked tomato and toast, in short, a thoroughly unhealthy, disgusting combination of carbs and fat swimming in grease on a single plate. At least they made coffee, rather than tea available.
Setting the menu down, I noticed the waitress working my section for the first time. She was easily six feet tall, young, with long natural blond hair wrapped up in a bun. Beneath her white blouse uniform, I could see large, pendulous breasts pressed against her body by a demure, non- Victoria's Secret bra. "Now this is going to be an interesting breakfast," I thought.
She came over. Acting very bored with her busy airport restaurant work, she asked me what I wanted. I pretending not to notice her by checking my computer. Then I looked up. I ordered the English Breakfast and she went away. Losing my appetite for food completely and thinking of other things, like that incredible body I was picturing just beneath her clothes, I went back to pretending to be busy. Waiting without showing it, I couldn't help anticipating her return with excitement.
Finally, she came back with the food. Now I jumped in! I asked her where she was from, because obviously they dont ordinarily grow girls like that in England, and, if they did, someone would have given her a job as a sex slave rather than let her rot in Heathrow as a waitress.
She said she was from the Czech Republic. I said, "Hey, that's where my Mom is from," a lie. Perfect comeback. She stopped her fleeing from table to table and asked me where in the country. I told her, Prague, because that is the only place I know. She nodded, but didnt go away. "Where are you from?" I asked. "Oh, a small town, not too far from Prague." "I bet you are from a farm," I said. "Now how do you know that?" "True?" "True," she answered. She still didn't leave. I was winning, big time.
"Do you know any Czech," she asked. Her name was Ana. "No I dont." "Why not," she challenged. I had to come up with a believable lie fast. "Well, my mother spoke German in the home, because that was my dad's language." Now I was praying hard that she didnt know any German. Luckily, she was a farm girl and probably didn't learn any in school. Yet, she spoke English well. "Well, you should know some Czech, even for the sake of your mother." I agreed with her. "Will you teach me?" I asked. Coyly she replied, "Maybe I will."
She did not leave. She noticed my open computer. "What do you do?" I told her I was a "journalist." Honestly, I dont know how I am capable of thinking up lies so fast. Guess, Im a socio-path. "Well, that is exciting, I bet." "Yeah, I love it. But, its also a lot of traveling. Sometimes, I wish I had friends to travel with me. Then it would be definitely be easier." She nodded approval and didn't seem put off by my little display of emotion.
I asked her how long she was working at the airport. She told me 6 months. I asked her if she liked it. She said that she didnt because the pay was lousy but it was the only job she could get. I thought of several other jobs for her but that would come later. I asked her if she liked London. She said that she did. I said, "I guess anything is better than a Czech farm." She laughed. Another score!!!! This was going great.
Then she picked up the conversation. "Where are you going?" she asked. "Im going back home to New York City." "New York!!!" she said excitedly. "Would you like to go there?" "Yeah, sure."
"Well, I would very much like to take you." "Really?" She acted surprised. Like I wouldn't want to lay all over her for 9 and 1/2 weeks with icecubes and viagara and all sorts of Kama Sutra positions. She still didn't leave. I was in solid, now.
I asked her to lean in to me so that I could ask her a question. She did it. I could see her freckled face and golden hair close up and it turned me on. I told her that I thought she had beautiful breasts and asked her if she thought so, too. "Well, I think they are quite large," she said in the cutest Czech accent and she blushed bright red while saying it. "I'll give you a hundred dollars American if you show them to me." I said. "I wont touch. Just look." She stepped back. "What do you mean," she said staring at me in puzzlement. I motioned her to lean in again. Surprising me, she does just that. "Listen," I said, "there has to be a place here where we can get some privacy. I just want to look at your breasts. I'll give you the hundred first. Obviously, I was now frying her brain. "Well, I have to go now," and she left, but, as she turned to go, I told her that I was going to stay there for a while so she should think about it. "Do you want more money?" I said, as she left.
At moments like this it is so very important to stand your ground. Im like a soldier waiting for a scary enemy to attack. I hold the line. I stay. I drank the last of my coffee and let my eyes wander casually around the restaurant. She was no where to be seen. An opening at the front end led directly into the terminal shopping area itself. I watched people come and go. How much money do they make an hour on Duty Free, I wondered. Squinting, I tried to see all the way back into the large area of open shelves with liquor and candy and clothing and perfumes all lined up glistening in regular columns for the obsessed shoppers killing time before a flight. When I looked back, she was standing at my table again. "OK," she said. I know a place where we can go. "Let's go!"
She led me past the tables and into a service area. The employees came and went rapidly but they didnt pay us any attention. There was a bathroom. She pulled me in. I became wildly excited. Her grip was so strong. She never let go. She thrilled me with her touch.
Setting the menu down, I noticed the waitress working my section for the first time. She was easily six feet tall, young, with long natural blond hair wrapped up in a bun. Beneath her white blouse uniform, I could see large, pendulous breasts pressed against her body by a demure, non- Victoria's Secret bra. "Now this is going to be an interesting breakfast," I thought.
She came over. Acting very bored with her busy airport restaurant work, she asked me what I wanted. I pretending not to notice her by checking my computer. Then I looked up. I ordered the English Breakfast and she went away. Losing my appetite for food completely and thinking of other things, like that incredible body I was picturing just beneath her clothes, I went back to pretending to be busy. Waiting without showing it, I couldn't help anticipating her return with excitement.
Finally, she came back with the food. Now I jumped in! I asked her where she was from, because obviously they dont ordinarily grow girls like that in England, and, if they did, someone would have given her a job as a sex slave rather than let her rot in Heathrow as a waitress.
She said she was from the Czech Republic. I said, "Hey, that's where my Mom is from," a lie. Perfect comeback. She stopped her fleeing from table to table and asked me where in the country. I told her, Prague, because that is the only place I know. She nodded, but didnt go away. "Where are you from?" I asked. "Oh, a small town, not too far from Prague." "I bet you are from a farm," I said. "Now how do you know that?" "True?" "True," she answered. She still didn't leave. I was winning, big time.
"Do you know any Czech," she asked. Her name was Ana. "No I dont." "Why not," she challenged. I had to come up with a believable lie fast. "Well, my mother spoke German in the home, because that was my dad's language." Now I was praying hard that she didnt know any German. Luckily, she was a farm girl and probably didn't learn any in school. Yet, she spoke English well. "Well, you should know some Czech, even for the sake of your mother." I agreed with her. "Will you teach me?" I asked. Coyly she replied, "Maybe I will."
She did not leave. She noticed my open computer. "What do you do?" I told her I was a "journalist." Honestly, I dont know how I am capable of thinking up lies so fast. Guess, Im a socio-path. "Well, that is exciting, I bet." "Yeah, I love it. But, its also a lot of traveling. Sometimes, I wish I had friends to travel with me. Then it would be definitely be easier." She nodded approval and didn't seem put off by my little display of emotion.
I asked her how long she was working at the airport. She told me 6 months. I asked her if she liked it. She said that she didnt because the pay was lousy but it was the only job she could get. I thought of several other jobs for her but that would come later. I asked her if she liked London. She said that she did. I said, "I guess anything is better than a Czech farm." She laughed. Another score!!!! This was going great.
Then she picked up the conversation. "Where are you going?" she asked. "Im going back home to New York City." "New York!!!" she said excitedly. "Would you like to go there?" "Yeah, sure."
"Well, I would very much like to take you." "Really?" She acted surprised. Like I wouldn't want to lay all over her for 9 and 1/2 weeks with icecubes and viagara and all sorts of Kama Sutra positions. She still didn't leave. I was in solid, now.
I asked her to lean in to me so that I could ask her a question. She did it. I could see her freckled face and golden hair close up and it turned me on. I told her that I thought she had beautiful breasts and asked her if she thought so, too. "Well, I think they are quite large," she said in the cutest Czech accent and she blushed bright red while saying it. "I'll give you a hundred dollars American if you show them to me." I said. "I wont touch. Just look." She stepped back. "What do you mean," she said staring at me in puzzlement. I motioned her to lean in again. Surprising me, she does just that. "Listen," I said, "there has to be a place here where we can get some privacy. I just want to look at your breasts. I'll give you the hundred first. Obviously, I was now frying her brain. "Well, I have to go now," and she left, but, as she turned to go, I told her that I was going to stay there for a while so she should think about it. "Do you want more money?" I said, as she left.
At moments like this it is so very important to stand your ground. Im like a soldier waiting for a scary enemy to attack. I hold the line. I stay. I drank the last of my coffee and let my eyes wander casually around the restaurant. She was no where to be seen. An opening at the front end led directly into the terminal shopping area itself. I watched people come and go. How much money do they make an hour on Duty Free, I wondered. Squinting, I tried to see all the way back into the large area of open shelves with liquor and candy and clothing and perfumes all lined up glistening in regular columns for the obsessed shoppers killing time before a flight. When I looked back, she was standing at my table again. "OK," she said. I know a place where we can go. "Let's go!"
She led me past the tables and into a service area. The employees came and went rapidly but they didnt pay us any attention. There was a bathroom. She pulled me in. I became wildly excited. Her grip was so strong. She never let go. She thrilled me with her touch.
posted by seeker at
6:43 PM
