She was on her third husband and had one son who was as old as I was and she had been giving me hard ons for over twenty years. Marie was five-foot even and weighed maybe one-twenty and a third of that was tits. Her bust size was thirty-eight and she knew they were attention getting and she displayed them accordingly. Low cut blouses were a staple in her wardrobe and when she waited on your table she made sure you got a good shot of her cleavage. I'm sure she thought that helped her get bigger tips.
Marie worked as a waitress at the restaurant that her parents owned. I had breakfast and lunch there on the average of five times a week. The food was good and the service and atmosphere were great, but the main reason I started stopping at the restaurant when I moved to town was that I loved looking at her tits and I wanted to fuck her.
The town was a sleepy little farm town when I moved there, although it has quadrupled in size over the last twenty years, and at the time it only had two restaurants that offered breakfast. Marie opened at six and the other restaurant opened at six-thirty. It was my first day in town and it was six-fifteen so Marie's was the restaurant I went to on that day.
It was instant lust that I felt when Marie came to the booth where I was sitting, handed me a menu and asked me what I'd like to drink. "The milk from those tits" is what I wanted to say, but "Coffee with cream" is what came out of my mouth. My cock was throbbing as I watched her walk away to get my drink and I do not believe that I had ever run across a woman who got to me so quickly.
Marie had more going for her than those magnificent tits; she had long black hair that hung down to the middle of her back and her tight jeans showed off a commendable ass, but it was those tits that drew the attention. You couldn't help but look at those jugs on that five-foot body and wonder why they didn't cause her to fall forward on her face as she walked. As she walked back toward me with my coffee it was hard not to notice the way the low-cut blouse showed off the creamy slope of her breasts and cleavage that made you want to tit fuck her.
She gave me my coffee, took my order and I spent the next forty minutes watching her as she waited on customers. It did not escape my notice that the restaurant was full of men and they all seemed as enamored of Marie as I was.
The next time I stopped for breakfast it was at the other restaurant. The food was good, the service was good, but all the waitresses looked like my aunts and older sisters - not a hard on generator in the bunch. I know that breakfast is all I was after but given the choice of watching a couple of grandmothers bustling about while I ate or watching to see if Marie's tits would fall out of her low-cut blouse the choice was easy to make.
Over the next several years I came to be a regular at Marie's place and it was inevitable that somewhere along the way that I would start to flirt with Marie. I saw the rings and I knew she was married, but that didn't matter to me. She wouldn't have been the first married woman to spread her legs for me, but while Marie flirted back she never took that last half step that might have made me think I had a real chance at her, but a man can always hope so I kept on flirting with her.
The restaurant was owned by Marie's parents and Marie was the day shift manager. She opened the place at six in the morning, worked through the lunch hour and then she was off for the day. Since Saturday and Sunday were the busiest two days at the restaurant Marie had Tuesday and Wednesday for days off so I only saw her on Monday, Tuesday and Friday. One day I playfully asked her when she was going to break down and give me a taste. She gave me an evil little grin and said:
"It would have been a long time ago if you were the right type."
"And what type would that be?"
"Married, settled, someone with something to lose."
"Why someone like that?"
"My experience sweetie, is that men like to brag and the last thing a married woman like me needs is to have her husband find out through the rumor mill that his wife can be had."
"So if I go and get married, have a couple of kids and play the domestic role I've got a shot?"
"As good a shot as anyone else."
"I guess you and I will never be an item then. I like my life just the way it is."
"Your loss sweetie" she said as she moved away to take care of other customers.
As she walked away I thought about how she had put it - "Married, settled" - and I remembered how that hadn't worked out so well. I remembered the day I had gone home early and found my wife with her legs spread wide and with another man between them. I had walked up to the bedroom door just in time to hear her say:
"Oh God, I wish you could fuck me forever."
"No problem there" I said, "He can have you because I sure as hell don't want you any more."
Three years later I tried again and two years after that I came home from work and found a note on the kitchen table:
"I took half of the savings and two of the certificates of deposit. Goodbye."
After that it was a succession of wives - always someone else's - and I swore that I would never marry again. If I needed a wife to get to Marie then it was never going to happen.
Then one day Marie wasn't around anymore when I went into the restaurant. Her parents had been killed in an auto accident and suddenly she owned a restaurant that she had to run. She was always in the office or backroom and I hardly ever saw her, but when I did I always made it a point to let her know I still wanted a taste and she would always ask, "You married yet?"
A couple of more years went by and then Marie's husband was killed. I didn't know the guy so the only thing it meant to me was that Marie no longer had to worry about rumors getting back to her husband. I'd give her some space to do her mourning and then I'd take my shot.
Two months after her husband died I had to go out of town for six months on a job and when I got back it was to find Marie married and one month pregnant. I finally accepted the fact that the Gods that be just did not ant me to have Marie and I put her out of my mind. I still flirted with her whenever I saw her, but I had resigned myself to that's all I would ever be able to do.
A couple of more years went by and then one day I heard that the restaurant was going to close. It turned out that Marie did not own the building. Her parents had been good friends with the owner and he had given them a long tern lease. He had died of a heart attack shortly after Marie's parents had died and his son had inherited. The son informed Marie that when lease renewal time came around at the end of the year he was not going to renew. He said he had a better, more profitable use for the building.
I was having breakfast one morning and Marie passed through the room stopping every now and then to speak to one of the regulars. When she stopped at my booth I asked her if the rumors were true and she said that they were. I asked her what she was going to do and she just shrugged and said:
"Close the doors and get on with life."
"Why don't you just open someplace else?"
.... There is more of this story ...