tagLoving WivesThe Birthday Waitress

The Birthday Waitress


This story is pure fiction.


Julie and I had been friends since we were in our teens. We worked in the same office way back then and pretty soon we grew inseparable. We went everywhere and did everything together. Now we were both in our mid thirties and were still just as close. In the meantime she had married John and I, Ray.

Fortunately our husbands also got on well together and would often go off for a night out or play golf. We even bought houses next door to each other.

One morning we were sitting sharing a coffee and Julie obviously had something on her mind. "Come on, Julie," I encouraged her, "what's troubling you?"

She hesitated for a few seconds then drew a deep breath. "Well, you know how it is in the bedroom, you talk about your fantasies? One of John's favourites is where he gets served a meal by a sexy waitress - and things develop from there. He even knows exactly what his waitress looks like: long black hair, Latin complexion, slim but with big breasts, ..." She continued to depict the waitress and I listened in astonishment as she described me – even down to the mole on my left cheek.

“Yes, Maria,” she pressed on when she knew I realised it was me. “As you know, it's John's birthday on Friday and I'd like to give him a special dinner, just me and him. Served by his dream waitress. Would you ...?”

To give myself space to think I poured us both another coffee and sat down opposite her, staring blankly at the dark surface of the drink. My mind was numb and I just couldn't get my thoughts together. I sipped at the coffee and said, “Hell, I need something stronger than this.”

I got the vodka from the fridge, offered Julie some and poured us both a hefty slug I gulped mine down neat and poured another. Slowly my thoughts were beginning to coalesce as the spirit lit a fire in my belly.

John was an attractive man, no doubt about that so there wasn't a problem there. But could I let him make free with my body? With Julie there? As the second glass of vodka warmed me inside, I was starting to find the idea appealing. And yet, I thought, I'm a married woman. I've never been unfaithful to Ray and had no suspicions that he had strayed from our marital bed.

“Let me ask Ray,” I said eventually. “See what he says.”

“Would you go all the way with John?” She took hold of my hand across the table and looked me straight in the eye.

I refused to commit myself, repeating, “I'll ask Ray, let's leave it a that.” But the fire in my belly was now more than liquor!

We continued with the rest of our day as normal, never bringing up the subject. That evening I was especially attentive to Ray: cooked his favourite meal and we made passionate love in bed that night. As we lay cuddled together I brought up the subject of fantasies and, as we talked, I slipped in John's dream, and how Julie had asked me to fulfill it. He held me close and asked me if I wanted to do it. I told him, only so long as he was happy with the idea. “And I mean perfectly happy!” I insisted.

He lay silently for a couple of minutes and I gave him the time he needed. Finally, “Yes, if you're happy with it, do it.” he said. “On one condition; I get a Skandinavian waitress on Saturday.”

Julie's Icelandic heritage showed clearly in her pale complexion, blonde hair and ice-blue eyes and I had no doubt he meant her. Fair enough, I thought. Sauce for the goose ...

Ray then took hold of me and we had the most explosive sex we'd had in years. At one stage he even whispered in my ear, “Julie,” I responded fiercely with “Yes, John, NOW” and we both erupted into a wild orgasm.

As soon as I had seen Ray off to work the next morning I popped next door and sat up to Julie's kitchen table while she poured us a coffee.

“Well,” she demanded, as soon as she sat down. “What's the verdict?”

I smiled and held her in suspense for a few long seconds. “Looks like John's going to get full waitress service on Friday.”

Her face lit up and she came over and hugged me tightly. “Oh, that's magic! Keep it secret: I want to surprise him.”

I held her at arms length and cautioned her, “There's just one condition: you are Ray's waitress on Saturday.”

Bless her, she took it in her stride, gulped once and replied, “OK, he gets his waitress, too!”

On Friday morning we went out together and hired maids' uniforms from a theatrical shop, giggling as we tried them on. We also went shopping for new lingerie to show off our 'charms' to best effect then made a trip to the stores to buy the ingredients for the meals we were to prepare and spent the afternoon in Julie's kitchen cooking.

Then it was time to get dressed! I went back home and took a long, luxurious soak in the tub, towelled myself dry and laid out my uniform for the evening. I fastened the suspender belt around my waist and pulled up the black lace pants which struggled to contain my thick black bush. The matching ¾ cup bra was designed to push my breasts up and together showing my 38C cleavage to full advantage. I rolled the black seamed nylons up my legs and twisted my body around, peering in the mirror to check the seams were straight. Why do seamed nylons look so incredibly sexy? A black silk mini-slip completed my underwear.

The traditional French maid's unform was a figure-hugging black with low-cut top and the flared skirt which only just hid my stocking tops. The crisp white, lace-trimmed pinny enhanced my slim waist and my long black hair was controlled by a contrasting starched white lace band. I put on some heavy make-up, glossing my lips in bright scarlet and slipped into my 4” black patent stilettos then looked at myself in the full-length mirror.

“Well, John's got himself one sexy waitress,” I said to my reflection as I twirled and noted with relish my skirt flaring to reveal my thighs, naked above the stockings.

Satisfied, I left my bedroom just in time to see Ray entering the front door. His eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw me. Taking me in his arms, he hugged me tightly but I refused his kiss, as I didn't want my lipstick ruined. “I've a good mind to take you right back into that bedroom and keep you to myself.”

I untangled myself from his embrace. “You get your turn tomorrow!” I laughed. Then turning serious for a moment I again asked him, “Ray, are you sure you're happy with this?”

“Yes, my love, you go and enjoy yourself, then come back and tell me all about it.” He pecked my cheek, gave my bum a playful slap and said, “Scoot, Maria – go fuck his brains out!”

I slipped a coat around my shoulders to protect me from the winter's chill and prying eyes, took a deep breath and walked down the path to Julie's house, conscious of the click-clack of my heels on the stone surface in the stillness of the early evening. I went round the back and let myself in through the kitchen door.

Julie, putting the finishing touches to the meal, looked up when I entered and let out a low whistle. “WOW! You look good enough to eat. John is upstairs getting washed up, everything's ready here. Will you wait in the kitchen 'til I call you?”

She was a dream in a full-length cream silk evening gown with mandarin neck and slit up one leg to her hip. The rest hugged her figure and accentuated the fulness of her breasts. Her shoulder-length blonde hair held back by a matching cream silk band. She showed me the dining room with the curtains tightly closed and softly illuminated by discrete side lights and a large candlebra on the table. The sideboard was stacked with everything I needed to serve the meal.

We heard John coming down the stairs and she ushered me back into the kitchen and closed the door behind me. Suddenly my knees started shaking and a fluttering started up in my belly. The realisation that I was going to be offering myself to another man hit me. I dived into Julie's fridge and poured myself a very large vodka. It helped somewhat. Deep breathing brought my legs and tummy under control then I heard Julie's voice calling, “Waitress!”

Gathering myself, I opened the door and entered the dining area, bobbed a little curtsy and replied, “Yes, Madame? Are you ready to be served?”

Never in my life have I seen it on a man's face. I've read about peoples' mouths opening and closing like a fish out of water but that is exactly what John was doing.

“Happy birthday, John,” said my mistress for the night, her eyes twinkling as she saw her husband's reaction. “Maria is going to attend to all our needs.” She reached over and squeezed John's thigh.

Poor John was still speechless. I went to his side, dropped another curtsy and asked if there was anything I could help with. By now he was perceiving the implications of the situation: “Not just yet,” he smiled. “Maybe later?” There was a laughing question in his voice.

I went to the sideboard and retrieved the first course: simple melon cocktails which I placed in front of them. I took the first wine bottle from the cooler and proceeded to open it, deliberately causing my breasts to sway as I screwed the corkscrew in. I poured Julie a glass and, as I leant forward to pour John's, I made sure my breast nestled against the back of his head. I was enjoying myself teasing him but he didn't react.

I stepped back while they finished their melons then retrieved the dishes, bending low with my cleavage almost in John's face. I was satisfied to see him peering down and I felt his hand touch the back of my leg, running up towards my thigh. I cleared the dishes then moved in to pour more wine, again feeling John's hand straying to my stocking top.

Julie had roast a juicy duckling for the main course. I returned to the kitchen, sneaked another shot from the vodka bottle, got the plates from the warm oven and placed them in front of the couple. I returned with the dishes of vegetables and served each of them, always making sure John had a close-up view of my breasts.

As I stood there offering the condiments, I pointedly asked Julie, “Do you want stuffing, Madame?” I emphasised the word.

"Oh, yes. Most definitely." She was grinning straight at John as she spoke. "Lots of stuffing, please."

I stepped back to sideboard to wait for them to eat their food and listened to their conversation which was conducted in stage whispers loud enough for me to hear.

“What do you think of your waitress, then?”

“OK, I think she's real sexy!”

“Sexy? She looks like a tart to me. And I saw you, feeling up her legs.”

Tart? I'd show her 'tart', I thought.

“She seems to like it. Anyway, she keeps pressing her tits into my head.”

“That's another thing, I noticed you practically had your eyes down her cleavage.”

“Well, she's got nice tits. Worth a look.” John turned to me and said, “Waitress, would you pour us some more wine, please?”

Once more John's hand was freely wandering up and down my thigh but I was surprised to feel Julie stroking my other leg, going all the way to my pants. I allowed them this intimacy for a few seconds then stepped away as if nothing had happened. John I had expected and I enjoyed him feeling me like that, but Julie? I never even suspected she had those kind of leanings. I'd had one or two girlie affairs at school but never persued them beyond a few kisses and mutual groping. I mentally shrugged and realised that I quite enjoyed the sensation of them both touching me.

“She's got nice, soft thighs,” remarked Julie.

“Mmmm – I wonder what colour pants she's wearing.”

The conversation had lost all pretence of stage whispers. They were just talking about me as if I wasn't there until John called over to me, “What colour are your knickers, Maria?”

“Sir,” I reprimanded him in mock horror, “I'm a good girl, I am. The colour is for me to know and for you to guess!”

“She's got you there, John. You'll just have to guess!”

“What do I get if I guess right?”

Julie sat for a moment in amused thought. “You get to have me any way you want! But, if you guess wrong ...” she paused dramatically, “... you go down on me for an hour. Timed!”

“OK, you're on. Please, Maria, help a guy out: tell me what you're wearing.”

“I'll do no such thing, Sir. The very thought of it,” I flounced.

The diners' conversation was animatedly discussing my underwear then Julie announced, “OK, big boy, it's make-your-mind-up time. Make your guess.”

“Hmmm,” he pondered, “sexy red? Maybe. Or white to contrast the black? How's a guy to choose. Matching black? Oh, I don't know!”


“OK, I'll go for black. There, Maria, you'll have to show us your knickers to settle this bet.”

“Oh no, Sir. I can't do that. I told you, I'm a good girl!” I cleared away the remains of the main course and brought out the dessert, a thick, rich dark chocolate mousse Julie had made to John's favourite recipe, covered with whipped cream. I served each of them a dish and made to take the rest away.

“Leave the bowl on the table, please, Maria,” requested Julie “We may need some more.” A mysterious smile passed between them and as I leant over to deposit the dish, John flipped the back of my skirt up and cried in triumph, “Black! I was right, her knickers are black! We must celebrate. Pour us some more wine, you luscious wench, and have a glass yourself for winning my bet.”

I stood between them, taking my time to pour their wine and enjoying John stroking my pussy outside my pants and Julie carresing my butt. I took the bottle over to the sideboard, found myself a glass and filled it. By now they were acting like young lovers, feeding each other spoons of dessert.

Julie called me over and said, “You must try this mousse, Maria. It's delicious. She held a spoonful out to me and, as I bent to taste it she deliberately turned the spoon over and I felt a scoop of cold, stcky chocolate and cream oozing into my cleavage. I froze in shock and felt unable to move as John pulled my dress and bra open and deposited another spoonful of goo directly onto my exposed breast, following it up with his hand as he massaged the sticky mess all over.

“Oh, we must get that uniform off before it is ruined. Help her with the zip, John.” She spun me round to face her and I felt the zipper go all the way down the back of my dress. Julie pulled the front off my shoulders and made me step out of it. She also pulled my slip off and I was standing between the giggling couple dressed in just my pants, suspenders, stocking and bra, the latter oozing with dessert. I felt John fiddling with the clasp on my bra and soon that joined my discarded uniform on the floor.

He gently lifted me onto the table, flat on my back and proceeded to scoop a handful of mousse and slather it all over my breasts. It felt so cool and sensual, I was only dimly aware of Julie removing my pants before I felt the now-familiar coldness dolloped onto my pubic bush and being worked into my pussy. My breath was coming in short pants as the cool goo hit the heat of my inner lips.

John, by now, thought there was enough chocolate on my breasts and began to lick it off, lashing my nipples with his tongue and sucking them to full hardness. Julie spread my legs wide and I could feel her tongue lapping me down there, probing inside to get all the chocolate. I shuddered in orgasm as it rasped across my throbbing clitoris, grabbing John's head and pulling him right into my breast as he sucked powerfully on my engorged nipple. They kept me whimpering and mewling at fever pitch like this for several minutes until they decided they had licked all the sweet stuff away.

“Now THAT'S the way to eat chocolate mousse!” declared Julie, standing up with chocolate all over her face.

John, whose face was equally covered, gently helped me off the table and said, “Let's get cleaned off in the shower.” We all trooped up to the bathroom and I turned the shower to full blast and got in, still wearing my stockings and suspenders at John's request, while they undressed before joining me. We spent a pleasurable time soaping and massaging each other clean, Julie and I exchanging a passionate kiss while John did the honours, cleaning every nook and cranny of our bodies, his fingers probing everywhere.

Julie produced big, fluffy towels and we dried each other off. I knelt in front of John and took his hard penis into my mouth. He was not as big as Ray but certainly adequate, I savoured every ridge of his hardness as I wrapped my lips around it, taking it as deep as I could but Julie pulled me gently away and led us all to the master bedroom.

They put me on my back and John started kissing and tonguing my navel, moving down in sensuous circles, closing in on my aching pussy. Julie and I resumed our kissing, our tongues dancing and fencing. She placed my hand on her breast and then took mine in her hand, squeezing and pulling at my nipples.

Johns mouth was working some kind of magic as he kissed and licked and nibbled at my nether lips, round and round, stopping on each circuit to give my hardened nub his attention. Suddenly I wanted to taste Julie in the same way: I moved her round until she was kneeling either side of my face. I looked up to see her shaved mound, lips open and glistening with her juices, descending towards my face. I lapped at her sweet, musky nectar, wanting to drink her deeply. I ran my tongue up between her lips and gently took her tiny clitoris into my mouth, tonguing it rapidly as she gasped and ground her pussy down onto me as I was pushing up to John in my passion.

He must have sensed my need. He withdrew his mouth, leaving me gasping for more and I felt the head of his prick nudging between my pussy lips and sliding slowly in, filling me until I felt our pubic hairs grinding together. He withdrew equally slowly until just the head was left and then started a slow pumping motion sinking from tip to hilt with every stroke as he parted my legs further to penetrate me fully.

“Yes, yes, yes,” my screams were muffled by Julie and I could scarcely draw my breath as her juices flowed freely, her own screams rang out for both of us as John rammed faster and faster until he let out a great groan and I felt his seed pumping as we all climaxed together.

Julie's movements on my face became slow, relaxed circles as I felt John's hardness die away, eventually leaving me. Julie lifted herself off and we all lay side by side, stroking and touching each other as the fires of our mutual passion died down.

My friend reached across me and caressed her husband's face: “Happy birthday, Darling.”

He stretched across, his chest crushing my breasts, and kissed her sweetly. “Thank you for such a lovely present.” He kissed me, “And thank you for being my Birthday Waitress.”

And do you know, I never did get to taste that chocolate mousse!

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