tagMatureMarie Tries a Whopper

Marie Tries a Whopper


I stood outside the fast food restaurant for a minute or two, trying to figure out if the person I was looking for was working this evening. The pictures he had sent me hadn't show very much of his face, so I didn't really know who I was looking for as I peeked inside the nearly deserted Burger King.

There were four people working behind the counter, either cooking or waiting for customers to come into the place. Two I eliminated right away because of their gender, which left the two males as candidates. The one male was the right age but had dark skin, and the pigmentation of the penis that I had been blessed with several pictures of was very pale with a pinkish hue, which could not belong to that guy.

That left the tall and skinny dude, whose curly blonde hair was nearly my match, and he seemed to be around the same age my reader claimed to be, which was 19. The guy looked to be the type that belonged on a skateboard, and when I looked at him all I could think of was Sean Penn in Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

Taking a deep breath, I entered the restaurant when my prey was closest to the register, not wanting to have to deal with any of the other staff. The guy didn't seem to be all that excited to have a customer come in and interrupt his conversation with the little redhead working the drive-thru window, but he moved toward the counter with the forced smile staff were supposed to greet their patrons with.

"Welcome to Burger King," the kid said, his face still bearing the faint acne scars from his earlier years, and as I returned his smile my eyes went to his name tag. "Would you like to try a value meal?"


Bingo! The name on the badge was indeed the moniker used by my ardent reader, who had exchanged several raunchy e-mails with me after reading my stories at literotica, and had been so kind to forward me pictures of his genitalia in various states of arousal.

It was difficult to connect the photos of that over-sized penis with the scrawny kid behind the counter, but there was no way to tell from the baggy jeans he was wearing.

"What I was really interested in was a Whopper," I said in a low voice, biting my lower lip in as coy a manner that a 57 year old woman could manage. "Never had a Whopper before... Dylan."

The kid started to tell me about how much I could save if I got fries and a drink with that, but I cut him off.

"I only want a Whopper," I said. "Hopefully something that resembles the pictures you sent me."

Poor Dylan turned around and looked up at the board behind him before doing a double-take that nearly broke his skinny neck.

"Marie?" he whispered as his eyes bulged out wildly.

"Told you I didn't live that far away from you," I reminded him, Dylan having given me his life story in his e-mails - where he worked and where he went to school - and when I mentioned that I didn't live that far from him, I had told him that maybe I would drop in to see him sometime.

From his reaction, he didn't believe it, and frankly, if I hadn't needed to do business tonight in a town near here, I would never have driven the 35 miles to see if he really existed. Here I was though, and my appearance seemed to give my young fan a very nervous reaction.

"Disappointed?" I asked, hoping that I didn't look all that much worse than my self-appraisal had indicated, and he shook his head wildly in response.

"I don't get off until 11," Dylan stammered.

"I can't stick around," I explained. "You want to get off for real before then? You get a break?"

"Um - yeah," Dylan said. "In a half hour."

"Can't you switch with somebody?" I said, looking at my watch. "Kind of pressed for time."

Dylan looked around for a second, his mannerisms and expression resembling a rat in a maze, and while he tried to figure out if Burger King could spare him for a few minutes this late in the evening, I made it easier for him.

"I'm in the Toyota Matrix in the back of the parking lot," I said. "I'll be back there for another ten minutes. If you can sneak out, I'll see you there. If not, that's okay. I understand. I will take a Diet Coke. Make it a large."


I had barely gotten back out to my car when I saw the rear door of the restaurant open up and a shadowy figure race toward me. Situated in the back seat, I watched my eager young fan run to the rear of the lot, which all of a sudden looked a lot brighter than it had when I parked there. There was a bank of lights illuminating the drive-thru lane, which was on the other side, and this didn't give me the seclusion I had first thought, but it was too late now.

Dylan looked into the car, nearly getting into the front seat before I motioned for him to get into the back with me. He was out of breath and after he closed the door we stared at each other across the back seat in a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Well?" I asked.

"Can't believe this," Dylan said.

"Can't believe what?"

"Can't believe you exist. Can't believe you found me - actually looked for me."

"Well, you did give me all the information," I reminded him. "I happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to see if you might be working. After all, I don't have that many fans as enthusiastic as you are."

"Do - do you really like young dudes as much as your stories say?" Dylan asked, and I nodded in response.

"Those pictures," I said. "They piqued my curiosity. The pictures of that young fellow stroking that really big cock. Was that that really you?"

As Dylan nodded like a deranged bobble-head doll my mind went back to the pictures - crude and vulgar pictures of a young man with his cock in his hand - stroking the huge member like he claimed to do when he read my stories.

I chuckled when I recalled the picture he had sent me with a ruler alongside his erection, noting that in order to get the tip of his manhood to the 10" mark he had shoved the other end an inch or two beneath the base of his cock, but even so, there was no denying the impressive size of the penis in the picture.

"I want you," Dylan suddenly said, lurching across the seat and smothering me with kisses.

The young man's hand reached under my sweater, finding the tiny tit and pawing at it like an animal, and while I would have preferred his hand had gone under my skirt to where my pussy was wide open, moist and waiting, his wild clawing of my breast sent shivers down my spine as his testosterone filled the air.

"No time babe," I said. "Your jeans. Get them down. I want to see that cock of yours in the flesh."

Wild-eyed, Dylan sprang upright and yanked down his baggy jeans and underwear in one violent motion, and there it was. Every bit as big and hard as it had been in the photos, and when I saw that elongated manhood spring back against his flat stomach, I was on top of him in a flash.

As my fist wrapped around the thick base of his cock, I bent over him as the seat reclined for us, and as my lips slid down the warm rigid skin of his manhood, he let out a groan that could have probably been heard through the loudspeaker of the drive-thru if the car windows hadn't been closed.

"Oh damn!" Dylan groaned as my fist worked over what my lips couldn't reach, and my free hand went down between my legs, fingering myself as my mouth bobbed up and down. "You really do like the big ones, don't you? Am I big enough for ya?"

"It's beautiful," I said, lifting my head up long enough for a quick response. "Even bigger than it looked in the picture."

I kept sucking on his throbbing tool, even taking my hand off the base of his cock long enough to knead his balls, which hung loosely in a musky pouch, and when I did that, I felt them tense up.

"AW!!!" Dylan cried out a second before his cock erupted, sending spurts of his hot seed into the roof of my mouth and down my throat.

I kept going down on the lad until his cock went limp in my mouth, and after giving the rubbery hose a couple of last licks I straightened up in the seat.

"Here," I gasped, grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand up under my skirt. "Hard and fast."

Dylan didn't need to be asked twice, and as he slammed his fingers into my pussy I ground into him, enjoying him slobbering all over my neck as he worked his hand inside my cunt. It was rough and crude and it worked. In a minute I was practically writhing over the back of the seat and into the trunk as I came violently, and as a second smaller orgasm shook my body I clamped my thighs around his wrist, keeping his hand in there as my orgasm washed over me.

"I get off at 11," Dylan reminded me when I finally let his hand out of captivity, but I shook my head.

"Gotta go," I explained.

"But you can't leave me like this," Dylan said, leaning back to show me his cock, which was pointing straight up in the air.

"Don't you have to get back to work?" I asked him, stunned at his recuperative powers, but when he started to think about it, I was afraid that he might actually get out of the car, so I didn't play around.

At first Dylan's cock wasn't quite as hard this time - the skin on the plump glans not nearly as taut as before, but after my tongue worked over the ridge of the helmet and the tender tip of his dick, it was throbbing once again.

I licked along the veined underside, up and down the long arching shaft while Dylan squirmed and ran his hands through my hair. The sweet aftertaste of his first orgasm was still in my mouth and I wanted more, but made him wait for release.

After bringing him to the brink of cumming several times, I gave in to his soft whimpering, bringing my lips up and down his cock while milking his balls once again. This was apparently Dylan's Kryptonite, as he tattooed my throat with another staccato of semen the minute my hand squeezed his nuts, the ensuing milky bath soothing my throat in a way that a Diet Coke never could.

"I work again Friday night," Dylan informed me as he pulled his jeans back up, but I had to explain that this was just my way of saying thank you to him for his support of my writing.

"Nobody will ever believe me when I tell them what happened," Dylan said before exiting the car.

"If you want, you can tell them to log onto literotica.com and read the story," I told him. "Tell them to vote and leave a comment. Maybe I'll pay them a visit and thank them too."

"Are you going to write about what happened tonight?" Dylan asked, and when I told him I would he seemed as happy as he was when he was cumming in my mouth.


Thank you for reading.

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