Eating at Hungry Jack's.

Clink.

"So, do--shoot, hold up." I projected a blanket of comfort and ease around answering my questions to Nat, similar to what I did with Allison, then continued. "Do you... have a clean ass? Like, in the asshole and everything?"

Nat looked up while sticking a forkful of waffles into her mouth. "Yeah, every girl does." After swallowing, she dabbed at a lip.

"But... you gotta use the loo sometimes, right?"

"Yep."

"So, obviously... like... let's say a guy wanted to have anal sex with you, but your, er, natural instincts are calling. He would have to wait, of course, wouldn't he?"

Nat just gave me a confused look. "No, why would he?"

"I mean," I stammered, "well, no one wants to just PLUNGE in when... you know!"

The girl laughed. "Did you not learn biology in middle school, John? Women's assholes are all naturally prepared for anal penetration -- the, you know, upper what they call it, holding chamber makes sure of that."

I had no clue what she was talking about. I was no surgeon, but I was pretty sure this was the first time I'd heard of this 'upper chamber' business.

"We also have, like, our own natural, ahem, lubrication process down there, so things can slide right in with ease." She tilted her head showily. "Just in case ya didn't know."

It occurred to me that Nat was being sarcastic. Not regarding the lubrication thing, but the 'just in case you didn't know'. Like what she was saying was obvious. I chuckled to myself and sliced the last of my top pancake, shoving it into my mouth. Little did she know. Little did she know...

"You all enjoying yourselves?" As the waitress came up to check on us, I, in turn, checked her out, and cleared my throat.

"Um, can you put your leg on the table?" I asked, deciding to see what would happen if I tried this in public.

"Sure." The waitress didn't bat an eyelash, instead beaming a bright smile an hiking her skirt over her knee as she leaned back a bit and pulled her leg onto the table, setting it atop my plate of pancakes. Oh well. I could just conjure a new stack afterward. "Do you like legs?"

"I do," I said, noting Nat's non-reaction as she casually looked from me to the waitress to her phone then back. "Can I smell yours?"

"Please." The waitress was a brunette with her hair pulled up in a ponytail. Her nametag read Yvette. On her feet were small-heeled, strapped sandals, and I grabbed her shin to pull it up to my nose as I took in a hard, heavy sniff, breathing in her immaculate scent.

"Is my leg to your liking, sir?" she asked as I ran my nose and hands up to her knee. Her leg was long, and beautifully lithe. One hand sneakily snuck up to grope away shamelessly at her meaty thigh.

"Ughergh." I know. Me, with the graceful responses.

Yvette giggled a little, knuckle tipped against her lip. "I'm very glad you think so."

After I finished my indulgence on a complete stranger's willowy limb, I told her to take her leg off. She obliged. With a quick pat-down, she creased off her blouse and skirt, then ripped out a piece of paper. "Take however long you need, 'k?"

She walked away once she set down the check. Nat gave me another look.

"What?" I said, as, with a flashy conjuration gesture from my two lanky hands, a new, perfect set of pancakes appeared in place of the mess that Yvette had left behind.

Nat was still staring, a wry smile between her cheeks. "You're acting funny."

"Me?" Clink.

"Yeah, you," Nat sat up, taking the check and looking at it listlessly. "You've been acting funny all day actually."

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess..."

After we were done, we went up to the front to pay for the food. Nat pulled out some cash, and looked at me as the clerk rang it up. She shifted her body to present it to me.

I swallowed. Then, nodded. "Right. Your payment."

"Darn straight," she said with an overdone southern accent.

Taking a breath, I stepped forward and cupped her juicy ass cheeks in my hand, feeling her firm bottom through her jeans. My breath hitched.

For weeks, months, years, I had longed to do this. With the way she constantly waved that behind in front of me, from the time we ran from that party the cops ambushed, to just walking along sidewalk, to when she'd fall to her side while on her phone while lounging in Carl's house or what have you...

I'd been secretly fantasizing about my best friend's ass for as long as I could remember. But I could never... you know. do anything.

I raised my right hand. Then swung it down.

Smack!

"Agha!" Nat laughed. "Oww. Easy, easy!"

I was lost in my world. Carl was not joking. Her ass was filling out in such a perfect way, and it's only grown more shapely over the active years. I smacked it again. And then again. Then rubbed them with my palm, conducting marathons across her firm jiggly rear.

"That's right boy!" An older, burly looking fellow was looking on with his fellow, sleazy looking buddies at a nearby table as my hands squeezed Nat's gorgeous butt. "Happy Feel and Smack Nat and Allison and Allison's Mom's Ass Day!!"

Nat and I left the restaurant with the former rubbing her buttcheek once again. When she planted it onto the driver's seat, a clear wince contorted her features, but she eventually walked -- or sat -- it off.

"Sorry 'bout that," she apologized as she winked at me, pulling away from the Hungry Jack's diner, "but I had to. Money doesn't grow on trees, you know! I can only hope, in my saintly little heart, that you enjoyed it as much as I did."

Though I didn't reply, I felt like in any other world, or at least my original, pre-everything's-actually-a-figment-of-your-own-conception one, there was only one logical response, and it was in the very clear affirmative.

Just in case you didn't know.