Most weekdays, my office door’s buzzer sounds at ten in the morning, signaling the arrival of Charlie, the courier. He’s a sight to behold, always bursting with energy and sporting a smile that lights up our drab office. I frequently work long hours, buried under deadlines and dealing with nonstop meetings. But there’s something about the joyful presence of Charlie that triggers a flutter in my chest — and a quiver in my pussy.

My favorite delivery guy is in his early 20s, with tousled dark hair and chocolate-brown eyes that seem particularly soulful for someone so young. He’s muscular and athletic, and each of his movements exudes vitality. I’d previously dismissed the idea of a relationship with someone my junior, but he unwittingly challenged that notion with every package he dropped off.

Initially, I tried to rationalize my attraction by labeling it a fleeting fancy. I work in a successful firm, after all, with important clientele that require my devoted attention. My life is usually about strategy and results, not the thrill of a lusty fling. But as the weeks turned into months, my brief exchanges with Charlie became the highlight of my routine.

“Good morning!” he would say happily as he handed me his scanner, so I could jot my signature on its screen.

I’d often compliment him on his punctuality or careful handling of our parcels. But as my interest in him grew, I found ways to engage him in short conversations about his personal life — and each time felt heat rising to my cheeks.

I would shamelessly ogle Charlie before he left the premises. I found myself distracted by his muscular arms and the way his black T-shirt hugged his chest.

Once he’d disappeared from view, I would pace back and forth in my office. As my high heels clicked noisily on the polished tile floor, I’d ask myself if I was seriously entertaining a relationship with a man who was young enough to be my son.

The answer was yes.

One day after I signed for a shipment, I noticed that Charlie was lingering longer than usual. His gaze locked on mine, and the air felt heavy with unspoken words — and possibilities.

“Do you ever take breaks?” he asked casually, though his voice hinted at something more serious.

“Sometimes... but there’s so much stuff to do,” I replied with a shrug.

“You should give yourself a break. A new restaurant opened around the corner. They’re good. We should go there sometime,” he suggested.

I considered his invitation, the prospect of spending some time alone with him igniting a spark I’d thought was permanently extinguished.

“One of these days, we will,” I promised.

Charlie grinned and practically jogged out the door.

Over the next few days, our conversations grew much more flirtatious, his personality seeming even more fun-loving than before. It was a refreshing change from the corporate grind that I was used to — and the staid men I knew who were closer to my age.

One morning — emboldened by my blossoming friendship with Charlie — I invited him to meet me for lunch at the place he’d mentioned. I chose a cozy corner table that would afford us a small amount of privacy. He arrived on time, bounding in like an excited puppy.

Taking off his sunglasses and running a hand through his hair, he said, “It’s a nice place, right?”

I nodded, thrilled that such a handsome hunk was settling into a seat next to me.

I shared stories about my career, and he animatedly recounted his recent semesters studying photography. I marveled at how our conversation effortlessly flowed. Each laugh and shared glance knitted a deeper connection between us. As he leaned closer, I caught a whiff of his crisp cologne, the scent imprinting itself upon me.

When he casually brushed his hand against my arm, my heart kicked up. I’d been single — and sexless — for far too many years. But at that moment, my love-starved mind shot straight to a territory I thought I’d never venture into again — and I fantasized about what it would feel like to kiss him.

I managed to restrain myself — just barely.

Charlie was uncharacteristically late one day during the following week and mentioned I was his last stop of the day. It was nearly time for me to leave, so I impulsively asked, “I’m heading out for a drink soon. Wanna join?”

He said, “Yeah!”

Shortly afterward, we were toasting our tête-à-tête with glasses of wine, and the alcohol no doubt fueled the intimacy of our conversation.

As the night deepened, so did the chemistry between us.

“You know, you’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met,” Charlie confessed in a whisper, as if revealing a secret. “I mean, you’re fierce and accomplished — but you also have this warmth.”

“Fierce?” I laughed, unable to let that one drop.

He replied with a smirk, “Yeah, and I’d love to get wild with you.”

Charlie brought his lips to mine. We shared a sweet kiss that soon became a languid tangle of tongues.

“Come home with me,” he said.

I was helpless to resist, and we caught a cab to his small apartment.

Once inside, I leaned against a wall. Charlie approached me and pulled me toward him for another searing kiss. His erection was raging in his pants, and I felt his hard dick pressing against my thigh. I ran my hand over his chest, caressing his impressive muscles through his shirt. Heat radiated from his body, like an outward measure of his burning desire for me. His need was palpable.

Charlie pulled away and led me to his bedroom. That was perfect because I wanted nothing more than my youthful stud to fuck me silly. I wanted to feel his raging rod plunging inside my pussy, sliding in and out of me.

I yanked off my work clothes under Charlie’s observant eyes and lay back on his bed. His heated gaze roamed my body, rivaling the feeling of a warm caress. He stripped himself, but before he knelt between my legs, I got a good look at his fit figure and beautiful boner. He was every bit the hardbody I expected him to be. Almost like a Renaissance sculpture come to life.   The sight of him made my cunt ache with longing. He lowered his face to mine, and we were soon making out again.

Charlie’s hand stroked my boob, and his fingers pinched my nipple, making me gasp. I once again felt his colossal cock pressing against me. But this time, we were naked — skin to skin. He leaned in and bit my neck.

His voice was hot in my ear, “I want to make you feel good, Mary. I want to eat your pussy until you scream, and then I want fuck you.”

I nodded breathlessly. The words in my head failed to fall from my parted lips. But inside my mind, I was shouting, “Oh, yes — lick my cunt and pound my pussy!”

Charlie slid a hand between my thighs and slipped a thick finger into my snatch. He quickly added another, pumping his digits in and out of me. He pulled them out and slithered down my quivering body until his face was at my crotch.

Charlie didn’t hesitate. He dove in, exploring my wet folds with an eager tongue. I gasped and writhed under his blissfully relentless assault. He lapped at my clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I sighed loudly, my scrambling hands landing on his head and further mussing his already disheveled hair.

I suppose my demure utterances weren’t what Charlie was after because he increased the action of his tongue on my button until I was wailing with pre-orgasmic ecstasy. I pumped my hips, bouncing my ass against the mattress and mashing my gooey gash against his face. He simply clamped my legs over his shoulders and clutched my thighs tightly, holding me in place as his tongue pushed me over the edge.

Charlie got his wish. My bone-rattling climax did make me scream out loud. I was an exhausted mess by the time I caught my breath.

My young hunk sat up, his lips and chin glossy with my pussy juice.

“Can I fuck you now?” he asked.

I laughed at his polite request and said, “Oh, please do, honey.”

Charlie practically dove on top of me, hammering his hard-on into my cunt. I wrapped my arms around him, digging my nails into his back. He hissed and pummeled my pussy harder. I loved his energy and how he didn’t slow down one bit. I relaxed my body and accepted all he had to give. I felt gloriously greedy — and secretly satisfied that Charlie was able to fuck me so hard, fast, and long.

I surrendered to Charlie’s vigor and limitless passion as his cock repeatedly reamed me. But as my next orgasm took shape, I arched my back and tilted my hips upward. His crown raked my G-spot just right, and I swear I felt my pussy issue a series of sexy spurts.

Charlie groaned as my flooded passage pulsed around his shaft. My cunt was sloppy, and my juices were dripping down my ass crack. He lost himself in my overwhelming wetness. Groaning, he released his first volley of cream. That and his subsequent squirts added to the slippery mix inside me, aiding his movements as he rocketed to the finish line.

He collapsed atop me, grinning happily. I had a feeling my own face mirrored his look of contentment.

Glancing around the room, I noticed that aspiring photographer Charlie had some camera bags and video equipment tucked away in a corner.

“Think you and I could make a dirty movie one of these days?” I asked, the thought giving me a naughty thrill.

“That would be so hot,” he said. “But even if we never recorded ourselves in action, you’ll always be a star to me.”

Charlie’s a charmer, for sure. That boy really knows how to deliver.