Giving him a lil show from the bar bathroom… [MF]

Hi y’all!
I thought I’d give some back story to my last post. This is how I ended up hooking up with that coworker, starting with some fun Snapchat videos!

I’m a girl in my midtwenties, usually a bubbly and bright smartass. I’ll be honest, I love attention. I have lots of colorful ink all over my legs (my thick thighs definitely save lives too) and my hair is always an insane color. At this time, it was half green, half purple! I have DD tits, a lil chubby, but tall enough to get away with it.

I started a new job at a bar, working 14ish hour days serving, and one day an unfamiliar voice called my name to pick up food from the window. I jogged back to the kitchen, putting a little pep in my step to jiggle my boobs because I think it’s fun and none of my coworkers were around… Except this new line cook, who’s smirking from behind the line. He’s in his early fifties, grey hair cut and styled well, with a beard and tattooed arms. His blue eyes were laser focused on my chest. I decided to play it cool and grab the food wordlessly, but I’ve always been attracted to older guys and I was definitely feeling him. At the end of the night, I was washing bar glasses, and if you’ve ever been a horny bar patron, you’ll know it can be quite a show when a girl has big naturals like mine. I felt someone looking at me, and sure enough it was the cook. He winked and said “I love a hard worker, maybe scrub a little harder for daddy?”

Facefucked by my coworker [MF] wholesome at the end!

Hi y’all! First time poster, be kind!

He was a line cook, I was server, can I make it any more obvious?
At the end of a busy night, he was done cleaning the kitchen, and I was rolling silver when the text popped up on my screen-

Wanna fuck?

We’re not the romantic type. I bite my lip. I want it but I have to be difficult. I reply-

Idk. Can you make my mascara run?

I wrap up my last side work, and then see that I have a text that says-

Brat. Come over.

His place is within walking distance, so I punch out and head over. I don’t knock, just come flying through the door to flop on the couch and rip off my work clothes. He’s sitting in a chair, watching me with a smirk. He’s literally twice my age, covered in ink, with calloused hands that drive me crazy.