John Stamper sat in his usual place in the diner. It was lunchtime on a Friday, his day for the diner. The waitresses – Betty and Veronica (he'd had...a quiet smile about that; these two were as far from the Betty and Veronica of the comic books as it was possible to get. Betty was three hundred pounds and a brunette with scraggly hair that was slowly coming out and Veronica was a red head, with bad teeth, chronic halitosis and a tendency to swear at the littlest thing.) – smiled at him, like. His fingers trailed down and stroked their way around the sensuous curves of my upper breasts. I breathed into his ear, "Oh yes," wanting him to stroke my breasts roughly. They were tingling, aching for his touch; as I pressed myself closer to him, he moved his hand down and touched my hard nipple. I gasped suddenly; pleasure shot through my body. He started massaging it gently, making it harder and more erect, making me want more of him. I pressed my open palm hungrily against his hard cock. More

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