Delilah the Busty Bartender

There was a reason The Red Door was Greg's favorite bar. Two reasons, really.

"Hey Greg!" Delilah greeted him from behind the bar. "Your usual?"

"Yes, Please!" He told the dark haired beauty with the tremendous tatas.

She proceeded to make him a Sidecar. He actually preferred beer, but watching Delilah work a cocktail shaker was one of the true joys of life. He just wished she'd take about three times longer doing it and really let her tits go wild.

The bone in Greg's hand throbbed. He almost looked down at it but then Delilah held the shaker above her head and went to town, rocking his cocktail in the air as her jugs jiggled joyously.

She finally poured the cocktail after about three times longer than she normally did, looking very confused and a little embarrassed,

"Thank you," Greg said, meaning it as his cock strained against the fabric of his trousers.

"No problem" she said, not making eye contact, then hurried to the other end of the bar to a pair of young women who had just sat down.

He recognized the customers. They were regulars too, skinny blondes that always sat as far from him as possible. They always ordered elaborate cocktails that took forever to make.

"I wish they'd just order a bottle of vodka and two glasses so Delilah can come back and flirt with me," thought Greg.

The bone throbbed. One of the blondes handed Delilah a credit card and the bartender gave them a confused look, shrugged, and placed a bottle between them and gave them each a rocks glass. She then hurried back to Greg, undoing a button on her top as she did so.

"So, anything interesting happen at work today?" She asked, leaning forward with her palms on the bar the way she did when she was fishing for a particularly large tip.

"Kind of," he said to her tits. "Old man had a heart attack having sex with two women a third his age."

Delilah giggled.

"Well, if you gotta go, might as well go out swinging!" She said.

"Damn I wish she wasn't wearing a bra," thought Greg.

The bone throbbed and he hoped her bra would disappear. But instead she held up a finger.

"Give me a second, " she said, then turned her back on him, reached up behind and undid the hooks, pulled the shoulder straps down through her sleeves and over her arms, then fished the whole thing out.

She turned back with a grin.

"Sorry. The underwires were killing me," she said.

Greg grinned back. This was happening. This was really happening.