Get to work

You go out to the bar and pick up your tray, looking around to see that there are three tables with customers. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you put a smile on your pretty face and head towards the nearest table.

Two young guys, about your own age look up with smiles as you approach.

"Hi guys!" you trill. "What can I start you off with?"

"Beers would be good," one of them answers. "And a food menu."

"Coming right up," you smile, putting coasters in front of them, bending forward to give them a little cleavage shot as you do. They grin and wink, and you feel your pussy grow warmer and wetter, wanting the two of them taking turns at you and bringing you the orgasm you so desperately need.

The next table is a group of three women in their thirties who barely look up as you approach. They're chattering about their boyfriends or husbands, comparing how inadequate they are in bed and how disinterested they've become in sex.

"I swear, the only way I can get Mike to fuck me during football season is to put on a jersey and bend over the table in front of him. That way he can pretend I'm the center and he's the quarterback. Except he comes in about five pumps," one of them grumbles.

"Don't you say anything?" another asks.

"Damn right I did! He told me all good quarterbacks have a quick release."

"Son of a bitch," the third says. "Ron's the same way. Oh, white wine for me," she says, finally paying attention. The other's order Cosmos and you move on, your pussy still aching as you imagine being fucked over a table, hopefully by someone who lasts longer than Mike.

Your final table is an older guy, sitting by himself and reading a newspaper. He glances at you as you approach with your professional smile, his eyes flickering over your lush body. The old perv must be sixty if he's a day, you think to yourself as you ask him what he wants to drink. He orders a whiskey on the rocks, and you smile and put a coaster on the table, automatically giving him the same quick tit show you gave the two young guys.

You see no response from him and you feel a moment's irritation, but keep the waitress smile on your face as you turn away, deliberately stirring your rump a little more than usual before returning to the bar to place your order.

You feel even hornier at his placid indifference, and you can feel your nectar flowing and soaking your panties as you ring in the orders.