Meat Between Buns

And Patty pulled back out and in, bracing her hands on Fran's lean hips.

"You're so mean, standing out there, taunting me with your hot, tanned body every day..." Patty whispered. "You can't see in, but I can see out, watching you play with that huge cock every single day. It's just awful." She pulled one hand off Fran's side and slapped her buttock. "You should be punished. Don't you feel like you deserve this for treating me so badly?"

Fran rolled her head back onto her shoulder, staring up into the sky. "Yes... yessss..." She moaned. She might have taught Patty the appreciation of real public nudity, but Patty had one-upped her. She never dreamed she'd be in a position like this...

"Aren't you tired of masturbating? Isn't this more fun? Doesn't this feel good?" Patty pushed Fran over, bending her over onto her cart. Luckily, there wasn't anything below her that was hot to the touch, as her fingertips and breasts pressed against the cold stainless steel. Patty put her hands on Fran's sweaty flank, rocking Fran's hips back and forth.

"Instead of jerking it, you could just bend over and let the customers get it out of you. How's that sound, huh? Become a self-serve station?" Patty's right hand slithered up and covered Fran's eyes. "Just let anyone back here and dispense it? I'll bet you'll be able to tell when it's me..."

Patty's hand moved up, off her eyes, along her hair, until it clasped tightly around her golden ponytail...

And slowly, yet sternly, pulled Fran's head back, arching her neck. Patty kept up her thrusts, occasionally using her other hand to give Fran's buttock another firm slap.

Panting and groaning, pinned in place, Fran used her free arms to get a hot dog ready right before she forced herself back to a standing position. She climaxed her white seed right onto the dog. Her jizz was nearly as thick as her mustard, but a little more translucent.

Patty's hand held Fran's hips still as she made one last forceful thrust and unleashed her seed into her. Even as they both jerked themselves to hundreds of orgasms a day, the 'real thing' still gave them that lovely dopamine rush that only followed two people feeling that special way about each other and deciding to... work together.

"Whoo..." Patty exhaled, slowly decoupling herself from Fran. "That was... pretty intense."

Once successfully detached, Fran spun in place and pointed something big and hot into Patty's face.

The jizz-soaked hot dog.

That could describe any of the dogs Fran sold, of course. Patty didn't eat hot dogs, but when she saw something hot and fleshy, and a foot long... smelling of jizz... it was like her mouth opened automatically. Without another thought, she took as big of a bite as she could.

It didn't taste one bit like mustard.

For a long time, Patty had been too busy to taste any jizz that wasn't her own. In private moments, she'd dreamed of licking the salt off of a footlong... but that had little to do with hot dogs. The salty meat of the hot dog complimented the saltiness of the spunk, but there was still a sweetness paired with something savory and rich, that flavor pretentious food snobs called 'umami.'

Patty felt like the first person to eat cold delivery pizza, rather than trying to heat it up. Why bother with the mustard flavor? This was better, so much better.

As if she knew the flavors that she was being deprived of, Fran took an equally big bite of the other end of the hot dog. Her eyes closed and opened again, rolling back as she let out a deeply satisfied moan. She chewed the mouthful as quickly as was polite and took another one, which brought Patty to take her second bite. Patty would have eaten this entire sausage and asked for seconds, but once again, Fran was there to muscle in on something that she felt was rightfully hers to take her share.

With one bite left, held delicately in Fran's skilled fingers, Patty advanced and gobbled the rest up, Fran less than a second too late.

Or so she thought. Fran instead closed her lips just after Patty claimed the last morsel... and pressed them against Patty's.

Patty whimpered, swallowed the last bite in shock, and didn't budge until Fran backed her lips away with a big smile.

Fucking a woman she didn't really know that well up her ass and eating a hot dog saturated in her jizz was one thing. But that kiss... that's what made Patty's heart pound and her cheeks redden.

Patty cleared her throat self-consciously. "I need to get back. Can't let the line build up any more..."

She scurried off, Fran mesmerized as she watched Patty's rear bounce away.

The woman at the front of the line had watched this entire spectacle from a front-row seat, barely acknowledged by the pair. As if to punctuate Fran's complete lack of shame, she took a wad of napkins and wiped the 'sauce' from her behind, pitching them into her cart-side trash bin.

"Is that the secret?" She pointed to the yellow implant resting on the cart.

Fran took the implant and hid it where it belonged. "No, it's just a sex thing. I'm deeply perverted."

"I can imagine." She said, staring as Fran started to whip up some more mustard.

Nobody wanted to see the sausage get made. But that wasn't true about the condiments.

--

Patty returned to the counter with a bit of extra vigor, as most do after a refreshing break. None of the crew said anything of her temporary absence. Only after returning to her post behind the counter did Patty realize that maybe nobody had asked where she had been because they could ALSO look out the open window at the front of the restaurant... and watch her fuck the hot dog woman.

She took in a cleansing breath. Oh well. What was anyone going to say about it? She's the boss.

Patty got back to work. She focused on getting the meals to the hungry customers, and delivering the special sauce to anyone who wanted it. The crowd slowly grew as time got closer to noon, and Patty's focus remained on her work and away from the window.

"Where's that extra-large?" Patty called behind her without turning her head.

A hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around. Patty was suddenly face-to-face with Fran, the hot dog babe from across the street... now standing in her restaurant. It was as shocking to see her back behind the counter as if she had stepped through the window like a character magically emerging through a television screen.

"Right here, baby." Fran picked Patty up and sat her down on the counter next to her terminal. Her hands slid down her sides until they reached her thighs and pulled them up and apart. Fran gently extracted Patty's implant.

"You did me rough, Patty." Fran grinned. "I'm going to treat you better." She grabbed a rectangular bottle of oil at her side and drizzled a line of gray-brown oil across her erection.

"That's truffle oil! That's expensive." Patty protested as Fran rubbed it into her cock. The same fingers quickly entered Patty.

"Then it should work really well." Fran pushed herself into Patty, gliding smoothly yet tightly until Fran's balls rested against her. She withdrew forcefully and started spearing Patty hard. Patty clutched the edge of the counter and grunted, crying out with pleasure.

Fran had completely turned the tables on her. She thought she could show her dominance by pinning her down to her own cart, where everyone could see them. But to be subjugated in front of her regular customers AND her staff... the people she'd have to order around later like she hadn't just been fucked like a whore in front of them...

She should find this humiliating. And she did. But it was also intensely erotic.

To the customer's credit, none of them complained about the delay. Some of them cheered and hooted, like they'd won the lottery and showed up at the time where all pretense was dropped and someone finally was squeezing the special sauce out of her the hard way.

In between thrusts, Fran looked over her shoulder to the obese gentleman uncertainly staring at the reverie, his burgers smoking away behind his back.

"You better get used to me." Fran smirked. "I might be your boss after this."

"Flip those!" Patty commanded.

The fry cook spun around and turned the burgers. His neglect has not resulted in burned burgers. Patty's instincts were as sharp as ever, even when sufficiently distracted.

Fran pulled out from Patty, and then spun her by the shoulders until she was facing the counter again. Fran quickly continued her pounding, letting Patty brace herself on the counter with her arms.

"Where are those fries?" Fran cried out, voice wobbling as she rocked back and forth.

"Right here! Comin' in hot!" One of the workers brought in a red plastic tray lined with parchment, filled with freshly fried slices of potato, a plume of steam rising from them. He set them right in front of the pair.

What an appropriate expression, Fran thought, as she grabbed her hip and held Patty in place as she filled her with some very hot mustard. Patty was unable to endure this, and her cock sprayed a generous portion of her 'special sauce' onto the fries.

The floor spun beneath her as Patty tried to get herself together. What had she done, submitting to such a thing in front of everyone? She could die of shame...

But not before doing that again sometime.

Patty looked down to the adulterated basket of fries. The question, "what have I done?" quickly became, 'what did you do?'

"There we go." Fran grabbed a few fries from the edge of the basket. "Get some cheese on that and you can have your own Animal Style fries."

"That's trademarked. I'll have to come up with... another name."

"How about Doggy Style?" Fran smirked. She reached across the counter and pulled a plastic-wrapped spork from the self-serve cutlery cup. She unwrapped it and pushed the business end into the spuds. "There. Perfect."

Fran snuck a peck from Patty's cheek as she walked past, Patty ducking away from it like a shy grandchild. Fran circled the counter and walked out the front door, past the line and back to her cart.

Patty shook a bit, trying to remember where she was. This was certainly a day at work that she'd remember. She straightened her hair with her knuckle and looked to the very patient customer at the front of the line. "Next guest, please."

Before the guest said his order, he withdrew two dollars from his wallet and gave them to Patty.

She rather bashfully accepted them.

The following customer wanted to try the Doggy Style Fries.

Before she gave them to him, she removed the spork that Fran had put in the fries, threw it away and then replaced it with a wrapped one, set next to the basket on a tray.

"Really?" They asked.

"Hey, rules are rules."

--

Months later, deep into autumn, the leaves in the trees in the park turning brown and fluttering around in the cooling breeze, Fran continued her work, dispensing hot dogs for the hungry lunch crowd. Fran enjoyed going through a whole day without ever sweating, but it would soon get too cold to run this cart comfortably. Lots of entrepreneurs ran their cart in the winter and made plenty of money doing so.

They probably didn't work naked. Maybe she could keep everything warm and cozy in a cardigan and only extract her extension when necessary, but... that seemed to be missing the point of this venture.

On the chillier days, Fran did notice her line emptying more than it normally would. Most of the people who worked around here no longer wanted to leave their buildings to get a hot lunch, and less people walked around the city and discovered her cart by chance. She adjusted the number of hot dogs that she brought each day, but she could see that soon enough, she'd have to put the cart up on blocks for a long winter's rest.

Having sold all the hot dogs that she had dropped for that session, and since it was approaching 2PM anyway, Fran decided to pack it in. She stowed her umbrella, packed up all her gear, tied up her trash and sadly pulled out her winter coat, putting it right over her nudity like a public flasher.

Fran picked up her reliable wooden wedge that kept the cart in place, and she began to push the cart back to home base.

She crossed one street and wheeled it into the back of Patty's Burgers.

Behind a gate with blue vinyl privacy fence weave, there was a little spot cut out for her cart. A little roof of corrugated steel supported by two poles at either side was just enough space to park her cart. Back here, she did everything she had previously done with her cart, dumping out the cooking water, scrubbing the cart with car wash soap to keep it in like-new condition, setting her propane tank into a custom cage just outside the building, an arrangement that was surely much more legal.

The advantages to this setup were many. She had a readily accessible dumpster to dispose of the day's trash, she could bring her pans and other implements into the back of Patty's Burgers, where they would have it washed and ready for the next day. She even had access to real potable water to fill her trays. It was a great arrangement she had going.

"You want onions ready for tomorrow?" Asked one of Patty's workers.

"Of course." Fran answered. "Not quite ready to hibernate yet."

Fran left out the back, leaving her cart in its custom-fitted alcove. She entered the rapid transit system and took the subway towards home.

Patty, up at the front of the restaurant as she almost always was, had momentarily paused at hearing the voice in her back room.

"Wendy? Could you cover for the rest of the night?" Patty asked.

Wendy looked up. "If you need, sure."

She walked over to Patty, reached behind her, and pulled out the implant form Patty's rear. Wendy pulled down the back of her loose-fitting work pants, essentially mooning Patty before taking the implant inside her. With a deep blush on her face, Wendy pulled down her pants, presenting her own large, pulsating cock.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Patty asked in a confused whisper.

"I was waiting for the right time." Wendy pulled her trousers off without removing her shoes. "With how you and the hot dog chick got along, I wasn't sure you wanted the competition."

"You don't mind staying until close?"

"Someone's gotta make the sauce." Wendy cracked her knuckles. "We don't want what happened the last time you went home early."

Patty thought she knew everything that went on in this building, or at least everything that was any concern of hers. But she didn't know what Wendy was talking about. "What? I thought you just sold them all Wimp Style for the rest of the day."

Wendy's eyes moved over to Ronnie, bringing Patty's gaze along with him. Ronnie was scrubbing the griddle with a palmetto brush. The gaze from the two bottomless women made his scrubbing frown grow a bit deeper.

"I don't want to talk about it."

--

Leaving earlier than normal meant that Patty avoided the rush-hour traffic. Pulling up to her small house in the nearby suburbs, Patty parked her car in her driveway and entered her house.

"I'm home!" She cried through the house.

"I'm in the kitchen!" Came the somewhat musical reply.

Patty chuckled as she set her purse down at the counter near the door. "Of course you are." She said softly, moving through the house, following the scents of fried foods into the kitchen.

Patty never thought she'd come home to a woman in nothing but her apron, having whiled away her leisure time in the kitchen.

She definitely never thought it would be... her.

"You're just in time!" Said Fran, removing something from a dutch oven on the stove. She tapped her strainer a few times to shake loose some drops of oil from the basket before tossing the contents onto some paper towels. Fran took a sample from the last batch and spun around, pointing it right at Patty's face. Something else pointed at Patty, slung free from under the apron as she spun about.

Patty chewed the fried stick of starch, smacking her lips a few times. "See, I get what you're saying about the sea salt, but for sit-down business... people like their shakers."

"Just get those grinders filled with sea salt like they got at the steak houses." Fran suggested. "You can even leave the salt shakers right next to them. Let people pick what one they want."

"If we can find a supplier of grinders that ain't that expensive, I'll go for it." Patty looked to the few baskets full of french fries that Fran had evidently made. "Are you tryin' to fatten me up?"

"No, I've got another idea." Fran dashed off to the stainless steel refrigerator, slinging it open and pulling out a plate with two pellets on it, one a matte red, one white.

Patty eyed the two spheres skeptically. They were slightly irregular, with dips and hills on the surface. They looked like they'd been molded into spheres by hand. The red one even still seemed to have a faint fingerprint on its surface.

"Is this the Jetsons?" She asked. "Are we finally eating food in pill form?"

"You don't eat these." Fran smirked, plucking the red one from the plate with two fingers and bringing it under Patty's skirt...

And right where it needed to go.

"Agh, it's cold!" Patty cried. The chill didn't last, as the pellet suddenly made her feel quite warm, and her cock quite hard.

Fran took the white pellet, brought it behind herself, and then her hand returned with nothing in it. She shifted the apron to the side and unveiled her stiffening cock.

"How do you wanna do this?" Fran smiled.

They chose Patty on top, with Fran standing near the sink. Patty panted and wiped her forehead with her sleeve as she slammed Fran's tight ass.

"We got... the whole house, and you wanna do it in here?"

"Everything in here... is..." Fran grunted between thrusts. "easy to... clean."

Patty continued to slam Fran's booty until she came a moment before Fran. Fran caught her ejaculate in a clean measuring cup.

It came out... pink.

Not the hot pink that was popular in the eighties, nor the color of bubblegum or Pepto Bismol. It was a muted pink, edging on orange. An art major working in a paint store might call it 'Flamingo.'

When they had both caught their breath, Fran took a few fries from a basket dipped them into the measuring cup and took a bite.

She frowned.

"OK, that first batch of fries has gone cold, but the sauce is excellent."

Patty tried one for herself, picking one from the fresher basket that Fran had made as she walked in. "That's terrific, yeah."

"We could probably achieve the same results by splitting the pellet in half."

Fran blew a soft razz. "It just won't be the same. Your customers deserve freshness."

"Then you need to keep from coming before I do when I'm the top, else it won't mix right." Patty's arms went around Fran's back.

"I can't help it. You're too sexy, and you do me so good..."

They kissed a few times.

"Can't believe how much time we wasted fighting..." Patty whispered.

"Look how much we got in common... we shoulda figured that we got these things from the same manufacturer. I don't think more than one company is making these things."

"I heard on the West coast, some people use them to make lattes..."

"Now THAT's weird. Jizzing eight ounces at once sounds like a lot."

They nuzzled their noses together before Patty stepped back. "I'm... gonna take a shower."

She took a few steps before Fran spoke up. "Isn't fry sauce supposed to be TWO parts mayonnaise and one part ketchup?"

Patty turned back. "Is it? Or is this an excuse to mess around more?"

"Can it be both?"

Most of the fries went uneaten.

But they both felt quite full.