Hunky Pizza Guy Also Delivers Earth-Shattering Orgasms

“What toppings would you like?” the baritone voice asked.

Yes, I wanted to be topped. I wanted Joel to top me any which way he desired. But I said, “Pepperoni and olives.”

“Rochelle’s Regular.”

I could hear the smile in Joel’s voice. Since I’d moved into the neighborhood, I phoned in an order at least once a week. Every time I called, I thought of telling Joel what I really wanted to devour. My carnal cravings didn’t have anything to do with pizza but everything to do with my sexual appetite.

“Be there in forty-five minutes,” he said. “The weather is slowing everything down.”

The snow was falling hard and heavy, but my apartment was dry and toasty. In fact, on that stormy night the thermostat was set to even a little more than pleasurably warm. When you know sex is on the menu, you make preparations. At least, I do. I checked my hair in the mirror. I checked to make sure the front light was on. I checked everything I could possibly check, and then I checked all those things again.

Finally, the doorbell sounded. I was in a snug t-shirt and gray yoga pants — the kind that recently made the news as being obscene. They were formfitting and outlined the curves of my hips and ass. I hurried to open the door. Outside stood Joel, my favorite delivery boy from my favorite pizza parlor.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “The roads are wicked tonight.”

That’s not all that’s wicked, I thought, as I looked him up and down. He was, in a phrase, good enough to eat — slicked back black hair, coffee-colored eyes. The rest of his package was seriously bundled against the evening’s chill. Thoughtfully, I invited him in. He set the pizza down on my hallway table and then looked at me expectantly. I shut the door so that the snow wouldn’t blow inside. I knew he expected me to hand him payment and a tip — but I wanted something else. I wanted to handle his tip. But how could I put that into words without seeming uncouth?

“It looks really bad out,” I offered. “Maybe you should stay here for a little bit.”

He started to protest. He was accustomed to handling himself in all sorts of weather. But then he must have sensed something in the air, something far sexier than the smell of pepperoni.

“Maybe I should,” he said. “I’ll just call work.”

I showed him my phone in the kitchen, and then I headed to the living room.

“You were my last delivery,” he said as he entered the room. “So no problem … ”

He stopped mid-sentence.

I was naked — entirely, totally naked. Joel looked surprised, but not displeased.

“I don’t know how many pizzas I’ve ordered,” I told him, “in hopes that you’d make a pass. Now, I’m making one for you.”

Joel grinned at me and took off his jacket. He was still more dressed than I was, but I could tell his cold hands were making unbuttoning his shirt difficult. I came forward and helped him. He kicked off his boots, and I worked the buckle of his belt, then undid his fly and pulled his jeans down.

His cock bobbed up to greet me. I sank to my knees and wrapped my lips around the head. Oh, heaven. How long had I fantasized about drinking from Joel’s cock? Ever since he’d shown up with my first pizza order, I had lost myself in daydreams of ordering off the menu.

Joel put his hands on my shoulders to steady me — or to steady himself — and let me blow him. I slid my lips up and down his thick, hard dick, and I felt my pussy growing wetter by the second. Joel groaned and began to work my mouth to his own private rhythm, stroking his rod in and out of the warm, wet heat until I tasted his salty pre-come.

“Wait,” I said, backing up.

I wanted to experience his dick in more ways than only oral. I turned around and presented myself to him on all fours. Joel quickly got behind me on the carpet. I thought for sure he’d slam into me, but he surprised me. He ducked down so he could trick his tongue up and down my split, and I was the one to make noise now.

“Oh, Jesus,” I sighed, resting my head on my bent arms as I lifted my hips to increase his access.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmured, “exactly as I fantasized you’d taste.”

So we’d been on the same wavelength. And I’d somehow lost out on fucking him all spring and summer by not having the nerve before now. But I was going to make up for lost time. Joel brought his fingertips to my clit and started to rub my button while he licked me. He seemed to instinctively understand the pressure I desired. His fingers were gentler than I would have guessed, and he diddled me perfectly, so that I was humming under my breath as the pleasure rose within. When I reached my first climax, I cried out.

Joel took that as a sign I was ready for more, and he moved back and then pressed his spit-slick cock to my opening.

“Oh, yes,” I sighed as he slid in the first inch. “Oh, Joel.”

He held me firmly and thrust forward, and my pussy began to tighten around his perfect dick. I lit up inside as Joel drove into me hard and fast.

Before I could come again, he said something I was unprepared for. “Do you have any lube?”

“Lube,” I echoed, realizing what that word meant and craving all the x-rated possibilities that went along with it.

I practically tripped over myself in my haste to run for the bathroom and grab the bottle. I returned to the living room with a scarlet towel, which I spread on the floor, and the lube, which I handed to Joel. I watched, mesmerized, as he poured out a handful of the glossy liquid and jacked his cock until the skin shone. The he motioned for me to turn around again. In seconds, he had me greasy with the lubrication, and he was holding the creamy moons of my cheeks open to expose my little asshole.

“This is what I’ve been waiting for,” Joel confessed. “This is what I’ve thought of every time you make your way into my fantasies.”

“Tell me,” I begged.

“All I’ve wanted to do was take your ass,” he said. “When you answered the door last spring in those pink short-shorts, it took everything I had in me not to beg you to let me inside.”

I knew the shorts. I remembered the look on his face when I’d opened the door. Again, I was sad that we’d missed fucking for all those months in between spring and now. But I was truly secure in the fact that Joel and I would take advantage of our connection from now on.

“Fuck me like that,” I said, panting. “Fuck me just how you imagined.”

Then he was in me. Had I thought being fucked by that dick was exceptional? Having his rod in my ass took me to a higher level. I pawed at my clit with one hand, moaning as he worked me fiercely with his divine tool. I even reached my hand between my legs to fondle his balls as he screwed me. He was such a gentleman — staving off his own pleasure until I whimpered that I was coming. Only then did he truly pound me, pummeling me flat into the towel as he shot off inside my ass.

After that, we sat in stunned silence, in awe of what had transpired. Then I slid my clothes back on, and while Joel cleaned up in the bathroom, I went and put slices of pizza on two plates. We needed sustenance — before the next round.

— Ms. Rochelle S., Milwaukee, Wisconsin