My Affair With The McDonald's Fish McBite Roller

                                                   
I had seen the Micky D promo commercial for their new Fish McBites when I finally decided to roll on over, maneuver through their drive-thru and try a box.  Little did I know how this little snack food foray would turn into a real life soap opera experience.

As I pulled up to the little tin speaker at the drive thru the first thing I noticed was the note of anguish present in the voice who took my order.  "Wouldn't you rather try our cheddar onion burger, sir?".  I wasn't too suspicious at this, as I'm accustomed to those teen order takers pimping for more food orders.  How many times have I been solicited for apple pies or caramel sundaes?    Upon my refusal of purchasing something else,  I was told to pull up to the first window to pay for my Fish McBite order.

After paying I drove on to Window 2 to pick up my McBites.  It was then that I was a bit surprised to be greeted with a grease spotted red and white bag, handed over by a pudgy, Timex-adorned, slightly liver spotted arm that belonged to a senior lady with salt and pepper hair.  Her features were even, with wide-set blue eyes, a cute pug of a nose, and a guilty smile.

I peered into the bag, flipped open the Fish McBite box and saw a greasy mass of unformed minced fish pieces.  They didn't resemble those appealing panko covered little fish balls featured in the commercial.  "What the hell is this?", I sniped, and handed the bag back to her.   At this our elderly fast food heroine dropped the bag on the drive-thru curbing, spilling greasy fish on to the concrete curbing where it merged with the forlorn pennies forsaken in earlier currency exchanges.  At this our lady fast food queen began to cry, her lower lip quivering as the tears began to flow.  I hastily put the car in gear and drove forward.  But before I got out of the McDonalds lot a wave of remorse engulfed me and I wheeled back around and parked.

It seemed sure that my bout of pique over the horribly prepared fish snack had been the straw that broke the camel's back, leaving the poor lady in a state of frustration and despair that she might not have deserved.  I exited the car and walked into the restaurant.  When I looked across the counter into the kitchen I saw our senior heroine, her head down and back bent as she was being counselled by her 19 year old shift manager.  It wasn't going well.  Just then a wave of sympathy and regret rolled through me and I leaped over the counter and rushed over to dear lady, placing a comforting arm over her shoulder and apologized for my rude behavior over the disastrous fish order.

Surprisingly, the teen shift supervisor made no objection to my kitchen trespass and, instead, backed off and left us standing there under a baking oven.  Our heroine then turned into my arms and buried her face in my chest.  Her tears came in a flood and left the front of my best Hanes T-shirt sodden.  At my bequest she explained that she had been hired to roll these little portions of minced fish into perfectly formed orbs, to be dipped in panka crumbs, then dropped into hot oil before boxing them up for serving.

"Look at this"..she cried, as she picked up a plastic tub of minced fish. "I'm supposed to plunge two fingers into this tub, then form this into a ball and dip in the bread crumbs!".  "But every time I try it the mass of tiny fish pieces just fall apart!".  "I just can't get the hang of it!".

At this, I bent and kissed dear fish lady on the forehead and took her by the hand and led her out the back door.  She continued to cry profusely, her entire body shaking with emotion.  Perhaps it was the intensity of her body quivering but for the first time I noticed how attractive our little frustrated fish roller really was.  Her salt and pepper hair fell around her head in tiny curls, she filled out a pair of size 8 jeans nicely and her ample breasts bounced merrily with each intake of sob.

Soon we were out on the sidewalk and shuffling down the block, her left breast pressing against me as we moved along, increasing my awareness of her femininity and the spark of attraction. Unsure what to do with this sorrowful lass, we came upon a Motel Six just down the way from Micky D's.  Before I realized what I was doing I led fair lady into the Motel Six registration office and signed us in as "Mr. And Mrs Pollock".

We retreated to our motel room and I gently guided her to the bed and urged her to lay back, calm down, and relax.  I then grabbed an ice bucket, walked down the hall and filled it, grabbed a face towel in the bathroom, soaked the towel in ice water, folded it twice, then placed it over her fevered brow.
I then lay down beside her on the bed, took her hand in mine, and cooed words both sweet and sympathetic.

Soon our awareness of the proximity of man and woman, lying side by side on an impersonal motel bed made itself known.  Soon, without my realizing it, she had maneuvered my arm around and beneath her back, my hand falling naturally across one bountifully endowed breast.  It wasn't long before my perceived hunger for a Fish McBite was overwhelmed by a more tactile hunger, a greater rudimentary hunger.  As our fish lady turned in my arms I too turned toward her, my arms encircling the richness of shoulders and breasts, as we kissed, our tongues doing a diago as we explored the crevices of lips and neck and shoulder.  Soon I had worked our heroine out of her fast food tunic and Levi's as I worshipped two luscious breasts presented so freely, so willingly, as she moaned in delight.

I then rose to my feet and shucked my Hanes T-Shirt and label free Hanes shorts and returned to the arms of the dear lady.  We then began the ancient "dance" of giving and taking, the mating dance as old as the caveman, the dance that is both life and death as two souls strive to become one, if only for a brief instant.

Later, when we were both sated, the sweat of exertion filming on our bodies, I found sweet lady exploring my nether regions.  Gently, she took each of my testicles and, using the delicacy of two fingers, begin to fondle each of my love nuggets with great tenderness.  As I looked over at her I could see that she was aware of her finger ministerings, yet her mind seemed to be elsewhere.

Yet her fingers continued the fondling, as if she were measuring, taking note of the unique size and shape of each testicle.  I didn't mind exactly, the feeling of her fingers on my love nuts was not an unpleasant one so I didn't protest as she spent a good ten minutes exploring my nut sac.

She then giggled and planted a huge kiss on me and jumped up off the bed and cried "I've got to get back to work!".  She then jumped into the shower, emerged from the bathroom, threw her bath towel into a corner of the room and worked her way back into her Micky D tunic and Levis.  She then bent and kissed me and left.

After our heroine left to return to work I lay naked across the bed, musing on the wonderment of strange and unexpected liaisons.  After a few minutes I too went in and showered off and dressed and walked back to the McDonalds lot to retrieve my car.  As I circled back around I saw my fish lady again manning Drive Thru window number two.  And what I saw next brought a smile to my face.  Our lady heroine was twirling a nice walnut sized orb of minced fish between her fingers and a happy smile on her lovely face.

I was glad to see she had at last mastered the art of Fish McBite rolling...and glad that I was able to play some small part in her success.  ;)