Chippie Chip Cutie

Friday night chippy—the post-pub ritual. I was waiting for my kebab when Taylor changed my order.

She was thick, gorgeous, working the counter with oil-splattered uniform and a smile that made the grease smell romantic.

"Large doner, extra chilli?"

"You remember."

"You're in every Friday. Hard to forget." She leaned on the counter. "Plus you're fit. Helps."

"So are you."

"Behind all the chip fat?" She laughed. "Sweet. Listen—we close in ten. Fancy helping me clean up? There's free chips in it."

Cleaning up turned into something else in the stockroom. She locked the door, pulled off her apron.

"Been wanting to do this for months," she admitted. "Watching you order, imagining what you'd taste like."

"Probably like doner meat."

"Perfect."

She kissed me, tasting like salt and vinegar—my new favorite flavor. Her body was soft, curves hidden under that stained uniform.

"God yes—touch me—"

Her uniform came off, revealing thick thighs and heavy tits in a simple bra. When I unhooked it, everything spilled free.

"Like what you see?"

"Want to drown in it."

I buried my face in her chest while she moaned and grabbed my hair. Then dropped lower, finding her wet and ready.

"Fuck—yes—right there—"

She came fast, weeks of chip shop boredom releasing. Then she was pulling me up.

"Inside me. On the chip sacks. Always wanted to."

I bent her over a stack of potato bags, pushed in. She was tight, hot, and vocal as hell.

"Harder—yes—don't stop—"

We fucked among the chip shop supplies, her moans mixing with the smell of frying oil.

"Gonna cum—again—"

She did, clenching around me. I followed, gripping her hips.

We fixed ourselves, grinning.

"Free chips for life," she said. "And my number."

"Best kebab I never ate."

Started dating properly after that. Still got free chips.

Worth every calorie.