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Message-ID: <31134asstr$993755402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Ray" <ray1031@cac.net>
Subject: {ASSM} "Pizza Delivery", by ray1031 Mf 
Date: Thu, 28 Jun 2001 15:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


Pizza Delivery  Mf
Copyright, May 2001,
By Ray


*  WARNING  *  DISCLAIMER  *  ANNOUNCEMENT  *  STATEMENT


If it is illegal to possess or read this material 
in your area of the world, or because of your age, 
and you do so anyway - Be it on your own head . . 
. you don't have my permission. 

If you are easily offended or it's against your 
beliefs to read this, DON'T!!! If you do, and you 
become offended anyway - Tuff Shit!~! You were 
warned. (Although I enjoy comments, both of 
enjoyment or criticism, I neither need nor desire 
email proclaiming I will burn in hell because my 
beliefs and yours don't match.)


Personal Note/Preface:  I'm in late middle age, so 
I've been around for a while. I have always had 
sleeping problems I average about 3 hours of sleep 
a night. As I sit up nights, I have lately begun 
to type these little sex stories as a way to keep 
myself occupied and yet not disturb others in the 
house. I'm starting with some of the slightly more 
different ones first. Not that the sex is any 
different, but the situations have always struck 
me as being a bit different. I have about eight or 
ten done so far. If any of you are seeing these, 
then I finally decided to post some of them.



Pizza Delivery
by Ray


I pulled into the lot and parked behind the building. 
I still had twenty minutes before I had to punch in, 
so I thought I'd relax for a few minutes, listen to 
a few tunes and have a final cigarette. I was 38 years 
old, and I'd taken a part time job delivering pizza's 
in the evenings to bring in some extra cash and help 
get some bills off my back. The base pay check stunk, 
but the tips weren't bad at all. It was a small town 
and there were only three pizza houses to start with. 
Then last month the local Domino's was shut down and 
our place seemed to get the lion's share of their 
business. On a weekday night, I would usually pull down 
at least $60.00 in tips, then weekends usually brought 
in $110.00 plus, all for the same five to six hour 
shift. This was a Friday night, I knew we'd be busy. 
It was late January in Michigan, and I also knew that 
half the drivers would refuse to deliver off the main 
roads - there'd been a fresh snowfall last night. More 
deliveries for me and my $400.00, ratty, 10-year old 
Ford Ranger Pick-up. It looked nasty, but it was 100% 
reliable. Besides, at 26-Miles Per Gallon it was 
excellent for delivery work.

As I was finishing my cigarette, and getting ready to 
head in, Rebecca came out the back door. Yesterday had 
been her 18th birthday, and I had yet to wish her a 
happy one. I had a small gift on the seat beside me for 
her. I knew she wasn't leaving since she wasn't wearing 
her coat. As she crossed the drive to her car, I saw her 
looking around. She looked steadily at my truck for a 
few seconds, then started pulling her shirt tail from 
her pants. I had put out my cigarette and had my hand on 
her gift as I opened the truck door. The dome light 
didn't come on . . . it worked, but with the delivery 
work, I'd taped over the door button. There was no 
street light behind the store, but there was a three-
quarter moon and the night was cloudless. 

As I was getting out of my truck, I saw Becca pull her 
shirt over her head and almost fell on my ass because 
of the sight before me I didn't watch where I was putting 
my foot. When she'd stripped off her shirt, her breasts 
came into plain view. I knew it wasn't an accident, just 
as I knew this show was for my benefit. As I'd pulled 
into the lot, I'd clearly seen her through the front 
window, taking an order at the counter. I know she saw my 
truck pull in, and she had looked directly at it as she'd 
crossed to her car. Besides, Becca always wore a T-shirt 
under her work shirts, and this was the first time, in the 
four months I'd worked here that I'd ever known her to be 
at work without a bra. 

I let the truck door close quietly and walked around the 
intervening cars. As I watched, she stepped to the curb 
and scooped two small handfuls of snow, rubbing it into 
her chest and breasts, all without looking my way. As I 
started to walk up behind her I asked myself just what 
the hell I thought I was doing. At 5'4, Becca weighed 
about 125lb. But, she had no fat. At 34-23-34, she was 
on the Varsity track team at school and had set a few 
school records. While her hands had been over her head, 
her breasts had stood proud, but when she'd lowered her 
arms, they had sagged back, sloping gently down and away 
to her nipples.

   I couldn't believe I didn't have sense enough to ignore 
the show and simply go into the store. I mean, she wasn't 
really the most attractive woman I'd known, she was simply 
pretty. Her mousy brown hair was over her shoulders, and 
straight. She wore it in a simple pony-tail at work, and 
she looked better that way than when it was down. It seemed 
to add character to her face. Being 18, she had an acne 
problem, her nose was too big, her lips too thin, her 
eyebrows were too heavy and kind of wild, and she had a 
mustache. The mustache was not really surprising as she was 
of Polish-Italian extraction and her mother's mustache was 
better than mine (met her when I delivered them a pizza a 
few months ago). But Becca had the most soulful brown eyes, 
she'd trapped me in them a few times since I'd started 
working there. Top that off with the highest tightest butt 
I'd ever come across in sprayed on pants, and I wouldn't 
care if the town's entire police department was surrounding 
me with guns drawn . . . If this show was for me, I wanted 
it.

    "Quite a show you've got going there, Becca. Do I need 
to buy a ticket?"

She jumped at the first sound of my voice, then turned to 
face me with her hands over her breasts, but no other signs 
of modesty or surprise. She didn't blush, she didn't look 
back over her shoulder or crouch away at all. She was 
standing proud, simply holding her breasts covered. "Damn 
you, Ray. Make a little noise will you. You scared the shit 
out of me."

    "Sorry, I didn't think I was being quiet." I reached 
out and took her right wrist, gently pulling her hand 
away from her chest and placed her gift, a 6-inch stuffed 
Teddy Bear holding a rose, in it. We were looking into 
each others eyes as I did it. "Happy Birthday, dear. I 
hope it was a happy one." I still hadn't looked down. 

    She looked at the bear in her hand and smiled. "Thank 
you. I like this better than the crap my family got me." 
I still had a light hold on her wrist, and as she looked 
down and then back up I took her other wrist and pulled 
it away as well. When she was looking into my face again, 
I made a show of spreading her arms wide and leaning back 
to look down at her chest. They were beautiful.

    Not the firmest, and they were heavier at the bottom 
than the top, as I'd already noted, they sagged some and 
formed a gentle slope from top to tip. There were four or 
five hairs in the valley between her breasts and six or 
eight surrounding each aureole. The aureole themselves 
were over an inch across and elongated. The nipples were 
standing proud from the cold snow and were narrow, just 
over a quarter inch long, with a single drop of water 
suspended from the left one. "Changing shirts?"

    "Yeah, Sally's not coming in so I'm going to help 
driving for a couple of hours. I don't want to wear the 
manager's shirt for that."

    "Besides, you saw me drive in, and for some reason 
you wanted to give me a show."

    "Whatever do you mean?"

    "Let's see," ticking points off on my fingers. "You 
always wear a bra, tonight you're not. You never go 
outside in the cold without your coat, tonight you did. 
You always wear a T-shirt, and you pulled both shirts 
off - not just one. AND, you ALWAYS change your shirts 
in the bathroom, tonight you didn't. Besides, I know you 
saw me pull in. Teasing an old man?"

    "No, not teasing." She set the stuffed bear on her 
car and cupped both hands under her breasts, "What do 
you think?"

    "I think they make me want to play," I said. "I 
think they make me want to say the hell with work, 
let's throw you into my truck and go find a bed. I 
think I'd better get the fuck away from you, before I 
do just that." Just then I heard the back door of the 
store open. With me between her and the door, she was 
completely hidden from view, but her arms still slid 
across her breasts as she tried to get narrower behind 
me.

    "Rebecca, Randy wants to know what's taking so long," 
called out Nancy from the door.

    "We'll be right in," I called back over my shoulder. 
"Tell him the dirty old man is giving her a birthday gift"

    "Okay, No problem, Ray" When the door had closed 
again Becca dropped her arms, placing one on each of 
my elbows, letting out the breath she'd held since the 
door first opened. I felt her hands trembling slightly 
on my arms. Though outspoken, she was really a shy 
young woman. What she was doing was extremely daring 
for her. Her eyes were shining a thanks up into mine. 
Reaching out I gently pinched both nipples, "Becca, 
you shouldn't be making such promises as this to a 
dirty old man. Especially since you've made it plain, 
in the past, that I can't have what this promises. 
Hell, we never have the time alone together anyway."

    "I am closing manager tonight, and you are closing 
driver. I've always flirted and joked with you, just as 
you have with me, and I've always loved it. I've held 
you away only because I wasn't 18. A month before you 
hired in, another man, in his 20's was fired and had 
to leave town, because Nancy gave him her cherry. I 
didn't want the same to happen to you . . . I like 
having you around."

    "I remember hearing a little about that. Nancy's 
what 15, 16?"

    "Fifteen. She was tired of being the only virgin 
in the group, so she went after him. Someone talked. 
Though they both denied it, he lost his job and her 
mother was hunting for him with a gun. Sammy finally 
had to skip town - at least for a while. BUT, I'm 
legal now, it's MY idea, and as far as I'm concerned, 
you're not going to give me my real gift until the 
doors are locked tonight. Then, we've got the whole 
store to ourselves. The local cops were in a while 
ago and I told them we were staying late tonight for 
extra cleaning and tomorrow's prep. We both open 
tomorrow as well."

    "Sounds good, but we'd better get inside. I still 
haven't clocked in yet, and there are probably 
deliveries up."
    "Yeah, and though this whole thing has me a hot, 
I am starting to get chilled. Do I get a kiss?"
    "Later. If I start kissing you now, we'll be here 
another ten minutes, minimum." So saying, I turned my 
back on her and walked to the door and inside. I was 
walking on air, and I couldn't wait to get at the rest 
of her. 

    Two minutes later, I was on clock and carrying a 
car-top sign out to my truck when Becca came in wearing 
her replacement shirts. I could also tell, by the way 
things didn't move, that she'd pulled on a bra. Five 
minutes later, my change bank in my pocket and three 
deliveries balanced on one arm, I was out on my first 
run.

    Becca and I saw each other only three times in the 
next four hours. The actual rush, died at three, but 
Randy was the type who sent people home at the least 
slow down. Many is the time we got caught short handed 
because of it. When I finally came in the door and 
didn't find an order ready and waiting, it was almost 
ten. Randy and 80% of the inside staff were gone. 
Rebecca was back in her white Manager's shirt, and 
there were only two driver's left. Me and Sheila, and, 
as usual, Sheila was already crying to leave (but, 
Sheila was always crying to leave. 15 minutes after 
she came to work, she was crying to leave - then when 
payday rolled around, she'd cry that her check was too 
small). 

    Becca looked past her as I came in and asked if I 
could handle the rest of the deliveries alone. 
Commenting "Don't I always?" I walked past them and 
started catching up the dishes. THAT was why Sheila 
always wanted to leave. She didn't mind the deliveries, 
and she would fold pizza boxes, but when things slowed 
down, it was time to catch up the cleaning (doing 
dishes, sweeping and mopping floors, and cleaning up 
all of the counters and work surfaces), she didn't like 
doing that. She also wouldn't answer phones - another 
driver job when we weren't busy. Honestly, I was never 
unhappy to see her go.

    As Sheila clocked out, Becca came over to the 
sinks and helped me with the dishes, a normal thing. 
Nancy started sweeping the floor and Jeff started 
working on boxes (about all HE was good for, once we 
slowed down). "What will we do if we get slammed 
between 10:30 and 11:30, like last week"

"We'll handle it, like we did then. When are the 
others scheduled to leave?"

"Nancy at 11:00, Jeff at 10:00."

Looking over my shoulder at Jeff I asked, "Can you 
do 11:00 tonight?"

"Yes, I left an hour early the other day, it'll help 
keep my check up."

"Nancy? If we get a good rush, can you stay until 
it's over?"

"I'll help close if you need the help, guys."

Becca popped up "No, I think Ray and I can handle the 
closing. You can leave at 11:00 unless we're busy." 
Then looking at me, "I take it you are thinking about
me helping with the deliveries?"

"Only if we are really slammed and I start getting 
more than four orders behind. Up to that point I can 
handle it. Heavier than that and we'll have time 
complaints. If it comes to it, Nancy is almost as fast 
as you are on the make-line, Jeff can handle the phones 
and the cut table, while you cover anything I might be 
too slow on. Sound like a plan?"

"Workable. Ray, will you answer a question?"

"Serious questions get serious answers, bullshit gets 
bullshit back. Shoot."

"Didn't Randy offer you the night manager's job two 
month's ago, before he offered it to me?"

"Yes, he did."

"Why did you turn it down?"

"You know I drive a service truck during the day . . . 
sometimes, because of it, I'm a little late for work 
here. I couldn't afford to be late if I was manager. 
Also, I can basically pick and choose what nights I 
want to work, I'm a too good a driver for him not to 
allow me some leeway there. With two exceptions, I 
usually deliver three for every two of the other 
drivers. Occasionally, things come up and I have to 
tell him I can't work on a night he's come to expect 
me here. As a manager, he couldn't allow me to do that. 
Besides, as a manager the most he'll pay me is about 
$8.50 an hour (I also know you are getting $7.90 right 
now). As a driver, counting tips, I average $10. to 
$12.00 an hour, and have occasional nights that I make 
$15.00 to $20.00."

"How do you know what I make?"

"Dear, I may be an old man, to most of you, but that 
doesn't mean I don't understand computers and how 
things work. I know Randy's manager's codes, I know 
Ben's codes, and I know yours. I have had to get into 
the system before to correct faults in the middle of 
the shift - because no one else working could figure 
them out. I couldn't make those corrections without 
the codes. I have to know everyone's codes because 
only the on duty manager's codes will work. Randy gave 
them all to me months ago, over the phone. I just never 
forgot them."

As I moved the last dish to the drain rack and reached 
for a rag to dry my hands, Becca turned and scanned the 
room. The others must have been out of sight because 
she reached down the front of my jeans and gave a gentle 
squeeze. "I can hardly wait until the door's locked and 
I get my present," she said softly. Then seemed almost 
stunned at her boldness and blushed a bright scarlet. As 
she started walking away, I reached back and quickly 
patted her departing ass. 

The phones started ringing.

It was two minutes to midnight when I returned from 
my last delivery. All during my runs tonight, I had 
been thinking about Rebecca, about the promise of the 
night to come. About my being twenty years her senior. 
Wondering also just how much of an infatuation she 
had, whether I would have to change my comments and 
attitudes around her while working. I always tried to 
keep things light, semi-flirtatious, with most of the 
females working in the store (no matter their age) 
and joking, slightly put-downish or one-up with the 
guys (normal guy-guy thing). I knew exactly how far 
I could push the jokes and comments with each employee. 
When I arrived each time, I quickly judged the attitude 
and moods everyone was in that day and adapted my 
dealings with them accordingly. 

I was perfectly capable of carrying on with Rebecca, 
without any outward change in comments, approach, or 
attitudes. But, was she? I had been involved with 
younger women before (though not so disparate in age), 
and had found that continued flirtations had caused 
friction. They had worried that others would learn 
of our liaisons, becoming more uptight about things. 
Such sudden changes in attitudes only made others look. 

Before anything else happened, I would have to talk 
to Becca about this.

Jeff, of course, had disappeared some time ago, while 
I was out. Becca had made one run with three nearby 
orders an hour ago, but otherwise had remained in the 
store and I had managed to keep things timely. Nancy 
was still there and doing dishes when I came in, 
carrying the sign from my truck. 

Nancy was bigger than Rebecca in most respects. At 
15, she stood 5'8", she had large bones, and what I 
referred to as a north German farm girls build. Thick 
through the ribcage, broad shouldered, narrow waisted 
and small hipped. She had a whopping 34DD-22-32 figure 
long, long blonde hair, and loved to flirt as much as 
I did. She was also very strong.

I gave the floors a final sweep and mopping and carried 
out the trash as the two girls were putting the cleaned 
'make line' back together. When I came back in, Becca 
was counting the till and Nancy was pulling on her coat. 
As I passed her I asked, "Need a ride home?"

"No. Mom's already coming to pick me up. She always 
wants to make sure I come right home after work."

"Still doesn't quite trust you yet?"

"Oh, you know? Who told you?"

Not wanting to cause trouble between the girls, I 
thought fast, "You did, believed it or not. I over
heard parts of a couple of conversations you were 
having and put two and two together with a couple 
of odd comments some of the others have made to you."

"Do you think I'm bad or a slut because of it?"

"Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Mom acts like she thinks I'm a slut and will screw 
every boy I see."

"Do you want to?"

"Only a few of them," she said with a smile, patting 
my ass twice as she walked behind me to clock out. 
". . . And Mom trusts you."

"And you're only fifteen." I said. "I love you Nancy, 
you have a body I would fight others to possess, and 
a personality I would kill others to protect. But 
you're fifteen, and one of my personal rules is that 
my partners have to be of legal age. I'd tell you to 
come see me in two and a half years, but by then you
will be totally involved with some boy."

"I may still come see you." Then her mother pulled up 
and she was gone.

Becca and I finished with all our closing chores, 
talking about what we were about to do and or future 
working relationship the entire time. Locking the 
doors, we turned the lights off and retired to the 
office. I emptied one of the desks and spread a dozen 
cooks aprons for a little softness as she closed and 
adjusted the blinds and locked the door. I turned the 
ringer off on the telephone as Becca removed her 
clothes and placed them on a chair. When I turned 
around, she was standing naked before me. Her bush 
was a very dark brown and heavy enough to completely 
conceal her final charms from view. "Last chance to 
change your mind."

"You're standing in front of me, wearing only a come-
hither look in your eyes, and you actually think I 
might change my mind?"

"No. That's why I stripped before I asked. Would you 
like a nipple?" she asked, cupping one breast and offering 
it to me, as she raised the other one and extended her 
tongue to play with it's distending tip.

"No," I said, placing a knuckle under her chin and 
lifting lightly. "What I want first, is to give you 
that kiss you asked for earlier. I figure at least 
fifteen minutes of just necking and cuddling before 
we start other things. What do you think?" I'd moved 
back to sit in an armless swivel chair as I talked, 
never taking my knuckle from beneath her chin, not 
lifting nor pulling. She followed me as if her chin 
was glued in place, her eyes shining and her smile 
growing larger on her face. "Something surprising?"

"Every guy I've ever been with always wanted to start 
by playing with my chest or my pussy. They couldn't 
wait to get their mouths or hands on things."

"Lack of experience. I will admit though, I WANT to play 
with your tits. I WANT to bury a hand between your thighs. 
I WANT to throw you on the table and bump bellies until we 
both scream. BUT, YOU will enjoy it more if we start 
slowly. We will both enjoy it more if things build, 
gradually. If we can increase the anticipation and desire, 
use our lips, tongues, fingers, everything we have, to 
caress each other from head to toe, lighting all the fires 
we can before applying the hose to douse the flames, then 
your 'birthday present' will be more satisfying all around." 
My butt hit the chair as I finished speaking. 

Becca straddled my lap, crossing her wrists behind my neck 
and leaned in for a kiss. We held the kiss for about a minute 
before she pulled back and wrinkled her nose at me. "Oh, that
was starting to get so good, but your mouth tastes like an 
ashtray." She doesn't smoke, I do.

"Okay. Stand up."

Wriggling her hips and rubbing her pussy on my jeans, "I 
don't want to."

"Stand up, please." She did, with a pout on her lips. 
Standing, I took her left hand and guided it between her 
own legs, leading it in a circular motion across her outer 
lips, near the top. A surprised look crossed her face for 
a few moments, then her eyes half closed and her head 
sagged forward just a little. Placing my knuckle under her 
chin again I lifted her face to look at me. "You keep that 
up until I get back inside and we're in that chair again. 
Can you do that?."

"Oh, I think so, as long as it doesn't take too long. I'd 
hate to finish before we even get started."

"If you orgasm before then, don't stop. Start working 
things to the next level. Keep your hand working. If 
your clitoris becomes too sensitive, don't touch it 
directly, rub further down or spread your legs and fuck 
yourself with your fingers. We won't be 'finished' for at 
least an hour, probably more." As I spoke, I was again 
backing around and away from her, again she followed, 
though slightly splay legged this time, never taking her 
eyes from mine, never stopping her hand, acting like we 
were super-glued together at that knuckle. When we neared 
the back door I guided her back to an upright freezer and 
leaned her against it. Kissing her forehead, "Wait here. 
I'll be right back in."

I started to pull my knuckle away and she dipped her head, 
catching it in her teeth, wrapping her lips around it and 
running her tongue around it wetly, once. Releasing me, 
she kissed it once and said, "Don't be too long, you hear?"

"Less than two minutes, Dear." I quickly ducked out the 
door, propping it open so it wouldn't latch behind me (I 
don't have a key). Walking to my truck, I reached behind 
the seat and took out my 'Barbie' clothes mini-suitcase. 
A small tin 6" x 8" pink and white suitcase I found at a 
yard sale for a quarter back during my military days. It 
held a shaving kit. 

I used to carry the normal 'soft pouch' style shaving kits, 
but the second time I opened my duffel bag and found every
thing smelling like my after shave and Listerene, I started 
looking for something with a hard shell to carry my kit. 
This mini-suitcase did the job, even if it did occasionally 
get me some ribbing. 

I drive, a lot. I have friends throughout Indiana, 
Michigan, Ohio and Wisconsin whom I will sometimes just 
decide to go visit on the spur of the moment. I keep a 
shaving kit and two changes of clothes in all my cars, 
all the time.

Back inside, Becca was definitely getting there. Small 
beads of sweat were gathering on her upper lip and across 
her brow. A single drop had gathered and was quivering 
against a fine hair in the valley between her breasts. 
Leaning close I kissed her forehead, each eyelid, her 
cheek then lightly bit her right ear, tracing the edge 
with my tongue. Placing a knuckle gently against her chest 
I softly guided it up through the valley, collecting the 
sweat gathering there. Becca watch the movement of my hand 
with fascination as it slide slowly between her breasts, 
then moved to my mouth where I sucked the salty liquid from 
my finger. She sighed softly in her throat. 

Leading her again, she groaned when she had to move once 
more, but followed as we were once again attached at 
knuckle and chin. Into the bathroom we went, where she was 
puzzled by Barbie's portrait on the side of my little case. 
Opening it I revealed the shaving kit. I removed my 
toothbrush, and a box containing a new replacement brush. 
A little Crest on each brush and I handed her one as I 
began brushing my teeth, tongue, the entire inside of my 
mouth. Everything the brush could reach. 

I couldn't get it all, as the odor was permeated 
throughout; my clothes, skin, lungs, et al., but I hoped 
it would be better for her. 

As she started brushing her teeth, the hand between her 
legs stopped moving. Using my free hand, I reached between 
her legs and restarted the strokes. Pressing harder, I 
guided her fingers deeper between her pussy lips and after 
five or six strokes I curled my middle finger on the backs 
of her two center fingers, guiding all three into the 
opening of her hidden tunnel. Very quickly we were both 
gently stroking in unison until we were as deep as we could 
reach. At the penetration, her brushing hand paused and she 
sucked in a breath past the brush. But, as our strokes 
reached their maximum depth, then continued, slowly drawing 
almost completely out before beginning a slow soft slide 
back into the depths, her brushing motions started again. 

As I removed the brush from my mouth and started the water 
so we could rinse and spit, I added something new to the 
movement of our hands. At maximum depth I guided our hands 
in a small tight circle, pressing the palms upwards into 
the lips, rubbing them against each other as well as making 
a small rotation within the depths of her pussy. It was the 
third or fourth such stroke when her fingers touched her 
pleasure spot. When it happened, it was obvious. Her muscles 
tensed for a moment, her brushing hand froze for an instant, 
and her knees almost gave way beneath her. I was bent 
forward over the sink, spitting and rinsing my mouth with 
handfuls of water, when it happened. 

Standing, I caught her brushing hand in mine and removed 
the brush from her mouth, guiding it to drop in the sink 
as I leaned in and kissed her. Her freed hand went behind 
my head, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling my face 
tightly to hers as she further cleaned my teeth and tongue 
with the toothpaste on hers.

Every stroke or two we found her joy spot again and her 
legs were quivering now as she passed through a few mini-
orgasms, the moisture and heat in her pussy increasing. 
As she released me and leaned forward to spit her breasts 
sliding to either side of my arm, it's hand still working 
within her pussy. She started giggling. "What a site we 
must make."

"Do you want to stop?"

"Hell no, this feels too good." She paused as our fingers 
brought more pleasure to the magic spot within her. "Oh. 
God, what is that? It feels so damn good."

"A new sensation?"

"Oh, fuck yes. I've never reached inside myself before, 
only touched the outside. and my boyfriends have never 
touched that with their fingers or anything else."

"Well, it's called the "g" spot in most things you read 
about it. But that's just because someone thought it had 
to have a name. I've always liked to think of it as a 
mystic garden and we're planting the seeds of pleasure."

"Mmmm, I like the sounds of that." 

As we talked, I reached into my little case again and 
removed a small bottle of mouthwash, spinning the top 
free with my fingers. "Here, take a mouthful and hold 
it," I said passing the bottle to her. When she handed 
it back to me I filled my mouth, then leaned in for a 
kiss. Our mouths opened and we began passing the liquid 
back and forth, dueling with our tongues, swirling it as 
we sent it sliding from one mouth to the other, then back 
again. Her free hand once again behind my head , mine 
behind hers, clenched in her hair as I became even more 
excited. 

I added another finger to those already in her pussy 
and after a few strokes, I pressed as deeply into her 
as I could, pressing her palm tightly across her snatch, 
beginning to move it in a rapid rubbing action. First 
buried deeply and traveling in circles, then sliding 
upwards, our fingers coming almost free before sliding 
once more into her slippery depths, alternating the 
action every few seconds, generating as much sensation 
as I could for her clitoris, and on each forward plunge, 
curling our fingers forward, guiding them . . . seeking 
. . . and usually finding, that magic spot on every dive 
into the deeps. I wanted to bring her off, right here, 
right now, quickly. I was striving to put her over the 
edge. 

Dropping my hand from her head to her breast, grasping a 
nipple, first gently, then more firmly, I rolled the nipple 
between my fingers, then pinched it. Allowing the fingers 
to slide up the sides of her tit, my palm came flat over 
the nipple and I crushed her breast back into her chest, 
rotating my hand in circles and feeling the nipple move 
ever so slightly against my palm, attempting to further 
her sensations. My hand slid back away again, the fingers 
dragging firmly out the flesh of her breast as if digging 
furrows in her skin. Once more at the tip, my nails lightly 
pinched, twice. Not the nipple itself, but the aureole, 
just above and below the nipple, then beginning to slide 
once more back upslope and down, bringing the palm into 
play yet again. 

Any science or deliberate guidance between her legs was 
gone. Our fingers, still moving as one, were now plunging 
furiously in and out of her pussy, fucking her as rapidly 
as we could move them. The tips slightly curled striving 
still to stimulate the sensitive nerve bundle within. Her 
palm making a wet slapping sound with each thrust. Her 
juices now sliding past my knuckles and across the back 
of my thrusting hand. 

My palm was also adding to the slapping sounds as it 
flattened with each stroke against the back of her hand, 
driving it more firmly into her lips and the sheath 
surrounding her clitoris. 

Then, just as my hand completed it's second slide down her 
breast, just as my nails began the first small pinching nip 
on her aureole, she went over the top. Her hand in my hair 
pulled me away furiously. I only just closed my mouth before 
I filled her face with mouthwash. Her head fell forward and 
she sprayed the front of my chest and shirt with the liquid 
from her own mouth, her forehead coming to rest on my chest, 
her mouth gulping air, chest heaving. She was leaning into 
me for support as her orgasm passed over her, my hand moving 
from her breast to her back, adding gentle pressure there. 

She missed one stroke as her hand between her legs started 
to relax and quit moving. I curled my thumb and little finger 
around her hand and continued the furious movements we'd 
already initiated. Maintaining the pace for about fifteen 
more seconds before slowing the pace, gentling the movements 
until finally, she mostly collapsed forward against me, her 
free hand dropping to my back and shoulder, holding on as 
if for life itself. 

Our hands between her legs, fingers yet fully buried within 
her, were still now. Waiting out the aftermath as she 
regained herself. Finally, small quivers started in her 
relaxing body, and her breathing began to quiet. I could 
see beads of sweat rolling across her temple and jaw line. 
The tip of her ear, just visible through her thick hair, 
was vibrating slightly. 

Quickly, her hand returned to my hair and she pulled me 
down for a long passionate kiss, which finally gentled 
after long minutes, becoming small quick kisses all 
around my lips and chin. She had been completely silent 
throughout her orgasm, and I liked that. I never have 
really cared for loud screams or strings of curse words. 
I've always felt the moment too special for such 
vulgarities. 

Finally, her breathing more normal, her head once again 
against my chest, she said, "Oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit 
. . . that was great! I thought I was going to lose it 
all." I slowly started our hands moving in her pussy 
again, long slow gentle strokes. not slapping home, not 
pressing her labia at all, just gently slipping in and 
out of her. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, 
then slowly slipping out in a soft 'yumming' sound deep 
in her neck and chest.

She reached up for another kiss and pressed herself 
tightly to me, finally noticing the wet of my shirt 
against her skin, starting to apologize but being 
stopped by my kisses and soft shushing sounds. 

"It's okay. It'll clean, I'll dry. Tell me, dear, do you 
need to pee?"

"What?"

"Do you have to pee? Every muscle in your abdomen has 
just gone nuts for over 30 seconds. You've just had a 
very deep orgasm. You've been drinking water and sodas 
for hours, and the last time I saw you head for the 
bathroom was three or four hours ago. So, before we 
start something new, do you have to pee?"

"Well, now that you mention it, Yes, I guess I do." 

I backed her to the toilet in the corner and guided her 
to the seat. As she sat, legs spread wide by the position 
of our hands, I slowly guided a withdrawal of our fingers 
from within her, bringing them to the very top of her 
slit and initiating a gentle swirling motion. Looking 
deeply into her eyes I said, "Remember your promise. We're 
not back in the chair yet, so you can't stop. Just keep 
your fingers near the top, they will stay dry."

"Are you going to watch?" she asked, then began blushing 
as she began even before I could reply. 

Turning away, I began pulling out my shirttail and 
prying the shoes from my feet, one foot behind the 
other. "No, I'm going to strip off my shirt, shoes 
and socks, to make things a little more even. Why 
should you be the only one nude and having fun? When 
they are off, if you're not yet done, I'm going to 
come over there and kiss you, maybe play with your 
hair, your ears, your breasts." 

Once stripped to the waist, I stepped to her and we 
joined in a long deep kiss once again. I had one hand 
in her hair, the thumb gently tracing the outline of 
her ear, the other wandering from breast to breast. 
Maintaining things as she finished, and wiped herself. 
She placed the fingers of her free hand inside my 
elbow to steady herself as she stood. Once standing, 
we parted our kiss and she looked down as she guided 
her fingers deep within herself, once again, relaxing 
only after she'd started fucking herself with them. 

Then it was my turn. Reaching for my belt, I was stopped 
by Becca's hand. "I want to do that," she said. I dropped 
my hands to my sides as she tried to undo my belt one 
handed. After two abortive attempts, she got smart. Taking 
my left hand, she curled the two center fingers in and 
guided them to her pussy, feeding them in with her own. 
After establishing the rhythm she wanted me to maintain, 
she slipped her hand free mid stroke.

As she was reaching for a towel to clean her fingers I 
said, "Allow me." Placing her fingers in my mouth, I 
sucked and tongued them, removing her juices. She tasted 
heavenly, I couldn't wait until I was eating from the 
well itself. When she made a face I said "Don't knock 
it 'til you try it, you taste sweet." 

Using two hands she made short work of things, and soon 
my jeans and Fruit of the Looms were pooled around my 
ankles.

I started shifting around, planning to sit while I 
drained the weasel. I thought she would be less 
offended, but she surprised me "Let me hold it."

"Do you really want to?"

"Oh yes, I've wanted to do that ever since I saw my 
older brother peeing behind a bush when I was a little 
kid." We did a small shuffle dance, me facing the toilet 
and her facing my side, one hand on my back, the other 
guided my stream as I relaxed my bladder. Luckily, 
somehow, I was only partly hard, so her aiming it 
downwards to the bowl was not painful. Her handling of 
it though, was threatening to bring it to full salute. 
I was glad that she didn't begin jacking it with her 
hand until I had finished and she had shaken the last 
drop from the tip. 

By standing on them, I was soon able to walk out of my 
pants, leaving them inside out on the bathroom floor.
Still holding onto my now fully erect cock, Becca again 
guided her hand inside mine, reinserting her fingers 
between her legs. As soon as she was there, I slipped 
my hand out Licked the fingers clean and, picking her 
up, carried her back to the office and the chair. 

I had no more than just seated myself before she removed 
her fingers, placed them in her mouth, straddled my lap, 
and guided my cock between her labia to the opening of 
her passion cave. She was so wet that as soon as the head 
was started, she slid down the entire shaft until her ass 
rested on my thighs. She sat like that for long seconds, 
her eyes closed, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

"So thick," she finally mumbled. "Never known one this 
thick." As she spoke, I leaned as far back as the flexible 
chair would allow, further leveling, raising, my pelvis 
and feeding her most of the final inch of my hard-on. As 
I did so, I sensed that it was laying just short of her 
cervix. "Oh, that's nice . . . so full, none of my 
boyfriends ever reached so deep, either. But wait, before 
we go any further, I'd better get my purse. I bought some 
rubbers, just for tonight."

Laying my forearms across her thighs and cupping her ass 
in my hands, I held her in position when she started to 
rise. "We don't need them, unless they are textured and 
you want the extra sensation. Because of something that 
happened to me, years ago, I'm sterile. I can't father 
children so you won't become pregnant, I am disease free, 
so I won't give you anything nasty." 

"Oh that's so nice. I've never had one in me without a 
rubber before, I like this feeling so much better. I can 
feel your heat, feel each beat of your heart through your 
dick. It's amazing. I'm getting so hot." She wriggled 
trying to get further into my lap as she spoke. When she 
had settled again and I felt her muscles start to flex, 
preparatory to raising her self on my cock, I pressed my 
arms down across her thighs again. 

Looking down I saw just the tip of her little rigid 
clitoris peeking out. When I looked back into her eyes, 
her brow was furrowed, puzzled, and I pulled her forward, 
sliding her across my pelvis and through my pubic hair, 
causing about two-thirds of my cock to slide free before 
reversing the direction, pushing her back into my lap, 
slipping back into the warm damp depths of her. 
Her eyes widened, her lower lip returned to her teeth, her 
breathing became short, sounding almost snort-like through 
her nose. "Another new sensation for you, Becca. A different 
angle of penetration than you've probably used in the past. 
As you slide forward, clamp down with your muscles, squeeze 
my cock like you are fighting it's release. Like you are 
complaining at it's going. Then, as it slides back in, 
relax, but shift your pelvis forward, raise your ass a bit, 
push your pussy, your clitoris, as deeply into my pubic 
hair as you can get it. Drag it through the hair, 
increasing your stimulation." 

I paused through a few strokes as she got the feel for 
what I'd said and began to develop a rhythm for herself. 
On the forward, gripping stroke, she clenched her muscles, 
tight. Being on the track team, those muscles were strong 
and she caused quite a sensation through my cock. At every 
stroke I thought my cock was simply going to stretch, 
before it finally started to slip through her channel. I 
would have hated to try this move if she were at all dry.

With the first stroke she softly said "Yes". On the 
return plunge, she relaxed and forced her clitoris into 
my matted hair, dragging it through, moaning softly in her 
throat at the sensation. With every stroke it was "Yes, 
uhnn, yes, uhnn, yes, uhn." I found it a highly erotic 
chant.

After a few moments, when I got used to the sensations 
she caused and could talk again I said, "Now, you 
remember that magic spot inside yourself that your 
fingers found? Well, by shifting your position, ever so 
slightly, changing the track of our penetrations, you 
should be able to direct my cock right across that spot 
with every stroke. Just twist yourself a little bit to 
one side or the other, until you find it. You know where 
it is now, you should be able to get my cock, any cock, 
there in this position." 

It was more than obvious when she managed it. Her body 
bucked perceptibly as my cock slid in on that stroke. A 
miss, then another buck, another easy stroke, then three 
bucks back to back before she missed again. 

A look of total concentration was on her face as she 
continued to move, sweat was beading on her forehead and 
upper lip, single drops were joining together forming a 
trickle between her breasts. Her breaths coming in short 
rapid pants through her nose, her eyes tightly closed as 
she guided each stroke. The bucks of her body becoming a 
constant quiver. 

I was afraid to try and reach for her swinging breasts 
with my mouth, not wanting to cause a change in angle or 
rhythm, but I did take one in each hand, kneading them, 
circling the aureoles with my thumbs, pinching and rolling 
the nipples, flattening them against her chest and rolling 
the entire breast under my palms. She was silent now, as 
she increased the pace of her thrusts, the only sounds in 
the room were her quick huffs of breath and the long slow 
deep breaths of my own, as I concentrated on maintaining 
my own equilibrium. Maintaining my own mental balance and 
control so I wouldn't uncork and spoil the moment. 

Besides, there was still one more round I was planning 
for us, and though I was sure I could maintain my hard-
on, even if I did cum, I wanted to hold it off as long 
as possible. An orgasm is so much more satisfying if you 
can build to it a number of times before finally releasing 
the pent up load. I wanted this night to be completely 
draining for me, and also one she'd remember for years 
to come, hopefully finding it difficult to surpass for a 
long time to come. 

Hell of an ego on this puppy, isn't it?

She was moving so rapidly now that I knew we didn't have 
much longer to wait. She slipped too far forward and I 
slid out, the stiffness of my erection raising my cock 
slightly so that on her return stroke she actually started 
the tip into her asshole before she caught herself. Her 
eyes widened and her mouth opened as about a half inch of 
my wide cockhead entered her relaxed ass before she came 
to a halt. 

I wondered what thoughts were going through her head at 
that moment. About two months before, on a slow night, 
she and two other girls had gotten quite a discussion 
going between them, about what they called unusual acts. 
One girl taking the position that a hole was a hole was 
a hole, the second professing to enjoying variety - if 
the mood was right. Becca held firmly to her position, 
throughout the discussion; 'No boy, was ever going to 
put his thing in her mouth or her ass!!' 

She slid forward off my cock without a sound, reaching 
behind her to again guide me into her pussy, and within 
two strokes was moving as rapidly as before. Three more 
minutes of stroking and she simply collapsed on my chest, 
quivering and shaking through a very powerful orgasm as 
her pussy clutched, squeezed and pulled on my buried cock. 
As she quivered and shook, I couldn't resist. I tongued 
and wet my middle finger and, reaching behind her, buried 
it in her asshole, as gently, yet as deeply as I could. 
As it slipped in, her shaking, which had begun to calm, 
increased again as another somewhat softer orgasm added 
it's voice. 

I did not try to 'fuck' her asshole with my finger, nor 
move it about, simply held it there, deep within her as 
her shaking subsided. After a long minute or two, she 
softly said into my ear, "Take it out please, it's starting 
to hurt." As I slid my finger from her ass she said, "It 
hurt going in too, but somehow it also felt good. Now, it 
just hurts. I'm not sorry you did it, though I don't want 
you to ever do it again, please."

"I won't," I said, softly rubbing the outside of her 
asshole after removing the finger, not trying for any 
stimulation or penetration, but as a soothing gesture. 
"Got your breath back yet?"

"Almost."

"Ready for round three to start yet?"

"Round three? There's more?" She squeezed her pussy 
tight, "You haven't come yet, have you? How long can 
you last?"

"Don't know," I answered truthfully. "Although I might 
come a few times, I have never gone soft while having 
sex with a woman before. Never in my life. Even if I do 
come, it will still stay hard." She didn't say anything, 
simply shivered. Before I could say anything or move, she 
slid herself off my rod and slipped to her knees between 
my legs.

"There are two things I once told myself I would never 
do or allow. You just did one with your finger, and 
though it hurt, it doesn't seem as objectionable as I 
thought it would. It actually added to the pleasure when 
it happened. Now, I wonder about the other. I can't think 
of anyone I'd trust more with this so, I'm going to try 
it." She looked into my eyes for a long moment before 
extending her tongue and 'tasting' the tip of my dick.

"You realize you're tasting mostly yourself, right now?" 

"My fingers tasted good. I'm hoping it will help this 
taste better too," she mumbled, then plunged her mouth 
down over my prick, hard and fast like she was trying 
for a deep plunge to get it over with. She came up 
choking.

"Hey, easy, go gently. Always start with just the head. 
Surround it with your lips. Suck at it like an ice pop, 
(it sounds stupid, but I've never known a better way to 
describe it) like you're trying to pull the flavor out 
of it. Tease it with your tongue. If you're planning to 
cause an orgasm, wrap your fist around the shaft and 
jack it off as you suck." 

"Only when you get used to it a little, only when you 
are ready and only if you want to, should you ever take 
more. Then, slowly slide yourself further down, chasing 
your lips with your tongue. It's usually easier for some 
women if they don't suck on the down stroke but only as 
they slide out towards the tip."

"If you start to reach your 'gag point', stop. Some 
people can rest there a moment, then go further. Some 
can't. Don't push yourself unless you want to."

"Some women will drag a man's cock with their teeth, if 
you try this, do it as gently as possible. As with things 
in a woman's ass, that can be a very painful move for 
some men, very stimulating for others. Watch your partners 
reactions to each thing you try. Gauge your moves by their 
reactions."

"If you become comfortable with 'fucking' your mouth on 
a man's cock, even if you don't go deeply, you can 
increase the sensation also by turning your head from 
side to side as you bob up and down." 

She was trying each addition to 'technique' as I described 
it, and was taking about three inches of my cock as her 
head bobbed up and down. My feet and toes were twitching 
as she moved, and I was approaching a boil over. I couldn't 
control it, this time. "Sweetheart, whether you want to 
hear it or not, you're a natural. A little practice and 
trial and error with different things, and you'll be one 
of the best I've ever seen." Her moves and rhythm didn't 
falter, but her eyes glowed as she looked up into my face. 
"You do want to be careful of some things, though, and you 
always need to be ready for it. Some guys will start pushing 
back as you slide down, trying for more depth and sensation. 
You need to control the depth. If any guy ever starts 
reaching for your head or hair, and you want to remain in 
control, stop! Pull him out of your mouth and tell him he 
can't touch your head or 'fuck' your face, unless, of 
course, you want him to. Some guys will try forcing you to 
take all of them, whether you can or not." 

"Also, If you don't wish to eat his sperm, tell him to 
warn you, pull him out and finish jacking him off on 
your chest or something. I'll tell you right now, you 
have about five seconds and I'm going to blow my cork. 
If you don't want to get your mouth filled, get off of 
it, NOW!" 

She held her position through the first two spurts, 
stopping her head bobbing but continuing to jack my 
cock. The third started things leaking past her lips 
and she pulled away, taking the fourth almost up her 
nose, the fifth and sixth hit her chin and throat, the 
last two or three, smaller, oozed out the tip and rolled 
down over her hand. She rolled what was in her mouth 
from side to side and across her tongue as she caught 
her breath, then swallowed. Smacking her lips, she 
continued tasting me for long seconds as she rubbed the 
sperm from her lip and chin with her fingers. 

Reaching to the desk top she used one of the aprons to 
clean herself of the remainder saying, "I don't think I 
like the taste very much. But the experience itself 
wasn't too bad. Do all guys squirt so much? It's never 
seemed to be so much before."

"Some will, some won't. I usually don't, but I've been 
intentionally holding back, and successfully avoided 
three earlier orgasms, each adding to what you just got. 
I've found that the longer you wait, the better it feels. 
If you ever try this again, you will find that different 
guys taste different. If you do it right after a guy 
takes a shower, it usually tastes better, not so sweaty 
or salty." 

"I'll remember that. Well, lover, what's next? I've never 
had sex last this long before or been this satisfying. Of 
course I've never had a man before, nor had one standing 
over me while I peed either." She said with a light blush.

"Hey, at least you didn't blow farts." Her blush deepened, 
but she didn't comment. "Time to get up on the desk, dear, 
your next orgasm will be oral, if I can manage it. I'm 
going to eat your pussy until you pop, then before you can 
recover, I'm going to prop your legs on my shoulder and fuck 
you as fast and as hard as I can for about five minutes. 
Then you are going to stand up and bend over the table as 
I fuck you from behind until I blow again. Once I start 
fucking you, it should take fifteen or twenty minutes. How 
many orgasms you have in that time, will be however many you 
have." 

She had stood as I mentioned the desk but stopped and turned 
to me when I told her how long the actual fucking would take, 
her knees shook as she reached up and pulled my head down 
for a hard deep kiss. As she laid on her back atop the desk 
she said, "You may have to carry me to my car when you're 
done."

"I doubt it," I said. "Most women can last circles around 
any man. For some I've known, what we've already done and 
what we're about to do, would only be a warm-up for a good 
session. Now, slide your knees open and place your feet on 
the desk to either side of your butt. Let's see how long 
you can keep them there as I work."

The rest of the session lasted about forty minutes. We 
spent twenty minutes more, getting dressed and cleaning 
up any messes we'd made, before finally clocking out for 
the night. We were both already over forty hours that 
week, so we each received overtime pay for our two hour 
session. Outside in the parking lot, we joined for one 
last long kiss, as we allowed our vehicles to warm for 
five minutes. After wishing her a final "Happy Birthday," 
I followed her to the bank for her night drop (something 
I did for all managers, when I was closing driver) then 
with a toot of horns, we headed our separate routes home.

The next morning when I entered the store and clocked in, 
Rebecca was already there. She came up behind me at the 
computer and reached around to give me a light rub and 
squeeze. "I'm so tempted to strip and bend over for a 
quickie. I want to have you do more new things to me, 
so bad."

"Wouldn't work, Becca. First, I don't believe in quickies. 
They only make me want more. Besides, then you'd have to 
walk around all day with a wet pussy"

"It's already wet, just thinking about last night."

"Well, call your boyfriend and make a date for tonight. 
Teach him what you've learned."

"He's not big enough, and won't last long enough. But, 
there is one consolation."

"What's that?"
Kissing me lightly on the lips she said, "I am closing 
manager next Friday and Saturday. Guess who my closing 
driver is both nights!!"

End.



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