Tortilla

Whenever I go into the local Mexican restaurant I make sure I sit in the same place every time. I'll even wait in the lobby to get one of the three tables along the windows. I'm not interested in the view outside the restaurant, no I want to sit by the windows that look in on the tortilla lady. In all that restaurant, there is no better entertainment to watch as the short, frumpy lady powders up her table with flour, flops the tortilla dough onto the counter and rolls it in her powdery fingers and carefully forms the perfect round disc.

She'll put the disc on the rollers and watch it slowly roll into the machine where it is heated and dumped out ready to slip into the plastic tortilla containers the waiters bring to the table. At the restaurant here the woman works for about thirty minutes and then takes a short break, then she returns for another thirty minutes. She is short and her body is kind of round, with nice full breasts. Her face is light brown with some wrinkles that are accentuated by the flour that seems to cover her.

Often when she is working, kneading the dough, pressing the tortilla, I'll see a droplet of sweat run down the side of her face, leaving a light brown track in the white flout. After watching the droplet my eyes will always slide back to where she kneads the dough, her fingers working through the pliant stuff like I'd imagine she might handle a cock. Seeing her knead the dough my cock will harden. Often I'll have to sit at the table long after I've finished eating waiting for her break, when my cock can soften and I can leave.

One evening when eating especially late, very close to quitting time, I was watching her, and realizing the place might close before I would have time to let my erection subside, I quickly got up and rushed into the restroom. Once in the restroom I could reach into my pants, pull my hard cock up against my body, letting my underwear and pants hold it against me. You could still see the slight bulge, but it was the best I could do.

Anyway, after checking myself in the mirror, I figured if I held my hand down there and hooked my thumb on my belt loop I could pretty much hide the fact that I had an erection. I slowly walked out of the restroom and immediately noticed it was much darker. I could still see the tortilla lady working away, but I didn't see anyone else around.

I quietly walked over and peeked into the kitchen, but no one was there. I then walked back to where the tortilla lady was working and said in a very quiet tone, hoping not to scare her, "Excuse me."

"Ay!" she said loudly, and then sighed, saying, "You're the one who watches me make tortillas."

"Yes," I replied, noticing that she was looking down at my pants, obviously noticing the imprint of my erection in my pants.

"You want me to show you how to make tortilla?"

"Yes," I replied excitedly.

"Okay, you stand behind me and reach your arms around. I'll show your hands what to do," she said, grabbing one of my hands and holding it around her waist.

I moved behind her and wrapped my other hand around her side. She grabbed my hands, dusted them with powder and then flopped one into the dough. With her fingers she helped me pull out some dough and then together we kneaded the dough. Then we placed it on the counter and she had me grab a roller. As we rolled the roller over the dough, she pushed her ass back a bit and moved it side to side, sliding over my erection.

She then let go of my hands, dipped her hands into some flour and turned to face me. I could feel her hands unzip my pants and then I felt her pull the waist band to my underwear down and take hold of my cock. Pulling it out of my pants, she took her fingers and began kneading it up and down the shaft while she whispered to me, "Chinga me, chinga me."

Feeling those wonderful fingers kneading my cock like her tortillas, I began moving my hips back and forth as the pleasure increased. It was incredible what she was doing to me working her fingers all over. Feeling I was getting close to coming, I moaned and then thrust my cock forward into her fingers. She continued with one hand while with the other she grabbed the small container of batter and held it in front of my cock.

When the pleasure was simply too much, I arched my back and came, spurting my cum into the dough in small white arcs. It spurted maybe three times and then she took firm hold of my shaft and milked the last few droplets of cum into the mixture. Putting the dough back up on her counter she said, "A special batch to take home."

She watched as I slipped my cock back into my pants and then led me out to the front door which she unlocked and let me out. As I stepped out of the door she said, "Come back and watch me make more tortillas, maybe a special batch."

I nodded and walked out to my car trying to wipe the flour from the front of my pants.