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McDonald’s Drive Thru

The tires on my pick up truck squealed as I bailed into McDonald’s. I slammed on the breaks, inches from rear ending the car in front of me, and took position in the long line at the Drive Thru. The humid summer heat was sticking my clothes uncomfortably to my back, and with an angry jerk, I loosened the fucking tie that was choking me, choking me the same way my job was choking my hopes and dreams.

“Cock suckers,” I muttered. I had been passed over for a promotion, despite being the most qualified. I should have seen it coming, the way drunken halfwit Rodney Mills and my boss were always hanging around each other, socializing outside of work – probably wife swapping. Fucking bastards!

I hated my job. My thirtieth birthday was in my rear view mirror, and I didn’t want to be stuck behind a help desk forever, politely assisting morons with crashed Internet browsers. I was saying, Well, sir, have you tried shutting down your system and rebooting yet? in my sleep. When I took the position five years ago, I thought it would be a gateway into the technology field, not a dead end road filled with overhead florescent lighting.

I had sworn off McDonald’s six months ago. But, I wanted a Big Mac, for no other reason than that half-hour-shit guarantee. I relished the thought of taking a nasty dump in the office men’s room, not spraying, and leaving the door wide open so all those cock sucking bastards could smell my Big Mac shit the rest of the afternoon!

With a frustrated roll of my eyes, I realized that there were two drive thru lanes, but the idiots taking up car space at Mickey D’s obviously had too much hardened fat between their ears to comprehend that two drive thru lanes meant two lanes of traffic! With a swift gesture, I moved into the vacant lane, only to discover that the lane was closed because of a broken speaker.

But, I was in no mood for the bullshit. They had two drive thru lanes; they should have two drive thru lanes open! Leaning on my horn, I filled the summer air with noise pollution and took sadistic glee in it, screaming out for the special recognition I had been denied at work.

I wondered how long it would take until someone from inside McDonald’s came out. I was half-hoping that some redneck tough guy would start something with me. I wasn’t a particularly skilled fighter, but I was in the mood for a brawl, in the mood to take my aggression out on someone.

And, before too long, out the side-door of McDonald’s came a girl in a brown uniform, her hair in a bun. I continued to lay on the horn as she approached my window.

“Sir,” she began in an exasperated tone, but I loudly interrupted her.

“I’ll have the Big Mac Value Meal. And, Super Size it please.”

She startled but recovered quickly. “Now sir, the speaker on this drive thru lane is broken, as it is clearly written on this piece of paper here. You will have to drive around to the end of the other line.” She spoke slowly, like a mother berated an insolent child. Her head was tilted in an arrogant manner that did nothing but further fan my agitation.

“And, I’ll have a Coke with that.”

“Sir,” her tone was sterner now, “I don’t think you’re hearing me. If you blare your horn again, I’m sorry, but we’ll be forced to call the police and have you physically removed from the premises.”

“And, I’d like some ketchup.”

The girl stopped flapping her mouth, looked at me. Our eyes locked, and, for a few seconds, we stared each other down. Then, my male hormones kicked in, and I noticed her beautiful blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair, and damn near perfect face. She was young, barely twenty, if even that.

“Sir, do you know what I think you need?” She hissed low, eyes narrowed on me.

“No,” I snapped. “Nor do I care.” I flicked fingers at her. “Get my order, and don’t forget the napkins.”

The door to my truck opened, and she reached in. I lifted a hand to ward off the pending blow. But, one was not forthcoming. Instead, her hands snaked for my belt buckle. “I think you’re just a big blow hard in need of a nice, long blow job,” she threatened.

“I dare you to do it!” I snapped before realizing what she had said. Her fingers unfastened my belt and pants, and all my anger disappeared.

“They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but what you need isn’t going to be found in a Big Mac,” she said with thick unevenness. Without losing eye contact, such a blatant display of sexual aggression, she released my soft cock from its imprisoning slacks with an obvious expertise. Running her fingertips ever-so-gently across the underside of the rapidly stiffening instrument, she cooed, “Yeah, this is what you need, isn’t it?”

Her other hand made its way to my balls, caressing and gently squeezing them, sending shivers down my spine. Then, she bent down, licking and kissing my balls, taking her time to thoroughly cleanse my boys, before sliding my cock in her mouth. The moist hotness of her mouth was incredible, and my prick, having been neglected by my wife for well over a month, responded to the stimulation, growing and thickening to full erection. The swelled instrument stimulated her gag reflex, choking her.

With watered eyes, she lifted her head, strings of saliva extending from my cock tip to her mouth. “Is that how you liked your cock sucked?” She asked nastily. “Or would you rather have a Big Mac?”

Half-laughing and half-crying, tears welding up in my eyes as well, I gasped, “Suck it!”

“I hate rude customers,” she sneered, still looking up at me, her chin and mouth spit soaked. “They make me so . . . horny.”

Backing slightly away, she unbuttoned her blouse, revealing firm tanned breasts and pink rosebud nipples to God, me, and the lard asses at McDonald’s. She showed no modesty, no embarrassment over her midday, partial nudity.

She moved forward to cup my balls, gently stroking the sacs while drawing my cock fully into her mouth again. “Sucking your fat meat stick has my hot horny pussy and sweet young clit throbbing for attention.” Her free hand snaked down the front of her brown uniform slacks, and she began vigorously fingering her pussy. The mental projection of the situation was more than enough, and my balls began tightening. I closed my eyes and drifted. The fleeting memory of losing the promotion came to me, and a bestial growl escaped from deep within my throat. Then, I was at that point where I cared about absolutely nothing but coming. Material desires mattered not.

“Excuse me.”

A voice brought my orgasm crashing down, and I opened my eyes to find a short, balding man with more unkempt hair than a carnival worker. His stagger left no doubt that he was the restaurant manager. While beat red and sweating profusely, he had a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“She’s busy,” I gasped, her never ceasing mouth making it feel as though my orgasm was being forced out by a powerful vacuum cleaner.

“This isn’t acceptable behavior,” he hissed uncomfortably to the girl still buried in my lap, vigorously fingering her hot, horny pussy and massaging her sweet young clit in a circular motion. “Your first day on the job is your last.” The girl, sucking zealously, nodded her acknowledgement and the manager disappeared as quickly as he appeared.

The vehicles were coming and going from the parking lot, their windows rolled down to watch the live, free pornography with mostly amused expressions. A few looked disgusted, but not disgusted enough not to watch. With a wicked grin splitting my face, I waved to my audience. I was beyond caring; the day’s events had pushed me into a strange realm of sexual deviancy. My heart was pounding fast and ass cheeks began tingling from excitement.

Reaching out, I put a hand down the front of her pants, felt the wiry cunt hairs. I probed fingers past her tight pussy lips and began masturbating her cunt with one finger, then two.

“Finger that naughty little pussy faster,” she urged hotly, lifting her head off my cock, gyrating her hips wildly. “Yeah . . . like that . . . Ooooo . . . I love playing with my clit while you stretch my cunt with your thick fingers . . . Oh, I love being stretched . . . “

I guided her head back to my swollen cock, and she immediately began slurping and sucking with quick, powerful strokes, her tightly wound bun bobbing. I moaned with pleasure, felt the soft flesh of her moving breasts brushing accidentally against my balls. The wetness against my masturbating fingers increased, and she lifted her head, eyes rolled back.

“Oh, my pussy hole wants to cum . . . Yeah, it’s tightening up for you . . . I’m going to cum right here . . . right here . . . faster . . . oh yeah . . . I’m going to cum for your nasty, naughty fingers . . . I’m coming! I’m coming! I’m coming!”

I thrust my hips up, felt the back of her throat and began scull fucking the girl with vigorous thrusts, gagging and choking her. Removing my hand from her slacks, I held her head steady, thrusting throughout the orgasm, forcing her to gasp, gag, choking, and take the load into her mouth. “Coming . . . “ I gasped, my cock began jerking into her mouth.

I began shaking from the aftershocks of such a powerful orgasm, as she licked my cock and balls clean. I thought about my wife and felt incredibly guilty. Then, I thought about how she hadn’t given me a blow job in over a year and how I had missed a promotion that should have been mine. And the guilt dissolved.

“Mmmm . . . So tasty,“ the girl said, finally lifting her head. Our eyes locked, and we began laughing a little, two sexual deviants sharing their private joke.

“That was great,” I sighed, reaching out to stroke her cheek. Her hair was still in a bun and I was momentarily struck by curiosity as to what her hair looked like down. But, she backed away, reached down and began buttoning her blouse.

When she was buttoned again, she looked up at me. “Okay . . . bye . . . “ She started to leave, but I stopped her.

“Do you need a ride somewhere?”

She rolled her eyes, gave an exasperated sigh, “No . . . Bye.” Her farewell was sterner this time, and I watched her leave through my rearview mirror. I had never seen before that day and knew I’d never see her again.

***

That afternoon my thoughts were too preoccupied, reliving the events at the McDonald’s Drive Thru to think about the promotion I had missed, and I knew that my adventure at the McDonald’s Drive Thru would suffice me through many more missed promotions.
6 comments

Anonymous readerReport

2010-08-03 01:12:59
its cuming not coming

READERReport

2007-02-28 21:43:45
What kind of Pick up?

READERReport

2007-02-28 10:27:57
this was a pritty good story 9/10

READERReport

2007-02-28 08:46:14
I know why you didn't get a promotion: You can't spell. You put on the "breaks?" It's "brakes," you dingaling.

READERReport

2007-02-28 07:08:41
so you were in the express lane after all.
6/10
thanx

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