Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With a Delivery Man (7 page)

Thudding suddenly against John’s lap with a
massive acceleration of pace, Jenny slammed against his length, until the full
impact of his climax surged in an urgent rush. Ripping away the blindfold as
she continued to move, Jenny peered into her delivery man’s eyes. John stared
back with a desire so intense, his expression alone acted as the final stroke
for her own muscle-gripping orgasm.

I made him over half an hour late for his rounds. He says he’ll
forgive me, but that I’ll have to be punished for holding him up and making his
bum sore. He has finally taken my phone number. I am to wait for a text with
instructions on it. I also have to hunt out some really old clothes. I wonder
why?

Tuesday

Ripped Off

The text arrived at
eight in the morning.

1:00pm
- be dressed in old clothes. Bra, knickers, everything. I’m gonna rip them from
your body, and then I’m going to…

Jenny’s internal temperature skyrocketed.
What? What is he going to…?
Texting
fast, she asked what he was planning, but all she got was an enigmatic,
Wait and see dirty girl.

Shivering, adorned
only in an ancient oyster bra and a pair of fading matching knickers she’d
fished from the very bottom of her underwear drawer, Jenny hunted through the
remainder of her
meager
collection of clothes. Dragging a pair of holed and worn jeans and
a thinning summer skirt from her closet, she threw them across the bed.
Skirts rip easier, but it’s freezing outside
and jeans are warmer, and if I leave the belt off… jeans then.

Choosing a top was easier. Jenny put on a
white cotton shirt left over from her days as an office worker, and buttoned it
halfway up to show a hint of cleavage that she was sure John would appreciate.
Grabbing her hairbrush, she attacked her hair, and, with only minutes to spare,
decided to sweep it up into an almost-tidy ponytail.

It was exactly one o’clock when he rapped
on the door, but rather than wait for Jenny to come to greet him, John stormed
straight in, pointing at her. ‘Are those your old clothes?’

Without wasting time waiting for a reply,
John took hold of Jenny and propelled her forwards. Tipping her up so she was
half lying, half propped against the sofa, her jeans were off before she’d even
registered her position, the zip fly torn beyond fixing. Lost in a haze of momentum,
Jenny didn’t even notice her knickers coming down, but when she found them
later, the seams were neatly split down each side, as if the two pieces of
material had never been joined in the first place.

How
did he know that I have always wanted someone to treat me like this?

The blouse was next. John manhandled her
into a standing position, her back against his chest. Jenny felt dizzy as he
grabbed the opening of her top and heaved. Buttons flew in all directions as
the crisp fabric gave no resistance to his strength, and her bra was effortlessly
snapped at its sides, the clasp forgotten altogether.

Jenny’s mind spun at his erotic savagery
as, seconds later, her forehead was buried into the top of the settee cushions.
With her knees resting on the bottom of the sofa, and one of John’s knees firmly
angled into the small of her back, she was pinioned in place.

The sound of John’s belt buckle opening,
swiftly followed by the rip of a condom packet, gave Jenny’s brain just enough
time to leap ahead to what was going to happen next. Then her delivery man
grabbed her ponytail, yanking her neck back as far as it would go, pulling it
taut, while with his free hand, he spanked her butt with a single smarting
strike.

Jenny’s cry of surprise hadn’t finished
echoing around the otherwise silent room when John’s fingers found her
unprepared anus and opened her up as far as he could. He paused and she heard
him rasp spit onto his fingers, which he then delved in and out of her velvet
rim, lubricating her. Jenny’s stomach clenched as his eager digits widened her
hole. Then, with a strangled grunt, John crashed his sheathed cock inside her.

Screaming in shock, feeling as if someone
had just inserted lemon juice into her blood stream, Jenny struggled to hold
back the acute burn of agony as her skin stretched to accommodate him. Yet she
could still feel her back passage sucking greedily at his length in agonizingly
welcome pain. Biting into the soft cushions, afraid her teeth would rip the
fabric, she willed herself not to beg him to stop. Instead, Jenny repeated a long
neglected mantra in her mind:
You can do
this. Any second now the hurt will go away, any second now something good will
take over, any second…
Then it did, and the piercing sting was replaced
with a simmering, fiery heat.

 
‘Scream, you filthy girl,’ he commanded her. ‘You drive me
fuckin’ nuts.’

Finding her voice, Jenny yelled at John,
just as he had ordered. ‘You are beautifully fucking brutal!’ she cried.

Spurred on by her utterances, he tugged her
hair harder, using her ponytail like a rudder to steer her whole body.

Moulded against his chest, shuddering as he
tapped a work blunted fingernail over her clit, Jenny started to shake. The
moment he felt her begin to peak, however, John moved away, denying her the
last stroke she needed to come properly.

Robbed of her orgasm, Jenny’s head swam as
her panting body was flipped over so that she was flat on the floor. Disposing
of his condom, John began to wank furiously across her heaving chest, and soon
a hot fountain of spunk sprayed her tight tits.

Scooping up some of his spent seed with two
fingers, John brought it to her lips. Jenny gobbled the moisture down her
dehydrated throat with a hunger that would have stunned her past self.
Presenting Jenny with more, John barely gave her time to swallow before forcing
the next finger full to her mouth. Only when every last dollop of his cum had
been smeared from her chest, and eaten, did he stop. Then, bringing a hand
between her legs, he finished her off with five firm strokes of her swollen
pink clit.

Towering over her prone, flushed body, a
look of total satisfaction on his face, John refastened the boxers and trousers
that had never fully left his legs. None of his other clothes had been removed,
and suddenly Jenny realized she hadn’t touched him at all. ‘You’ve been a very
good girl today.’ He bent down and kissed her for the first time that
afternoon. ‘I have to go.’

‘Now that I have your number, can I call?’

John was quiet for a moment, a conflict of
interest showing on his face.

‘It’s just a phone, John. Me calling you
now and again doesn’t make this more than it is.’

He smiled, grateful that she understood his
reluctance. ‘Okay, but I really don’t like mobiles, you know, what with driving
all day. I may not always have the chance to reply.’

Jenny opened her mouth to ask why she
couldn’t call him in the evenings, but her words died on her lips as he
disappeared out of the door with his habitual burst of speed, heading back to
work.

Deciding it was pointless to overanalyze
the underlying reason for his reluctance, Jenny was determined to put a stop to
all her insecurities and just enjoy the time they had together. After all, she
didn’t want a relationship either, so she had no right to ask him for more than
he could give her.

Empowered by her resolution to just relax
and enjoy her Tuesday afternoons with the courier, Jenny headed up to her room
to allow her body to take in the mind-blowing sex she’d just experienced.

How
the hell am I going to top that?

Stretching out on top of her duvet, Jenny
closed her eyes, letting the tension that had knotted in her shoulders escape
in long, slow gasps, while she engaged her intellect in the search for a sexy
scenario with which to treat John.

Unless
I… oh yes, I could do that… but do I dare? Is it too soon? I’m sure we’d both
love it, but what if I love it more than he does?

Tuesday

Sharing

That was surprisingly easy. Too easy, really.

Having finally made the decision, and
knowing in her soul that this was something she needed to do, as much as
something she wanted to do, Jenny had acted quickly.

She’d assumed it would be difficult, seedy
even, but it had been neither of those things. It was simply exciting, and as
she wrote the enquiry email to her anonymous recipient, the palpitating heat
between Jenny’s legs doubled with the promise of what was to come.

Lying back against her bed, her plans laid,
her mobile in one hand and a vibrator in the other, she felt convinced that
what she had just orchestrated would be as good, if not better, than her
courier’s recent savage outburst on her clothing. Jenny decided that this
situation was good enough to count as an emergency and she texted John,
reflecting the tone of the message he had sent her only a week before.

You
will be at my house at 1:00pm tomo. You will NOT be late.

To distract herself from the agonizing wait
for a reply, Jenny switched her toy on, playing its buzzing tip gently over her
nub. Her expectations for tomorrow spurring her on, Jenny was already pulsating
against the rubber tool as the tinny ringtone of her phone announced the
arrival of a message.

Will
be there. What will happen?

Jenny’s fingers trembled as she typed,
You’ll see. Sleep well, honey.

The bell rang at
precisely a quarter to one. With her heart thumping in her neck, Jenny
cautiously opened her front door.

She couldn’t contain the rush of relief
that consumed her as she took her first look at the woman who she’d met on the
Internet swinging site. She was everything Jenny had hoped for; and more
importantly, everything she had claimed to be. Short, bobbed ginger hair,
freckled skin, and piercing peppermint eyes. Of similar height to Jenny, she
was slim but curvaceous, and the jet-black blouse she wore hinted perfectly at
the secrets of her bust.

But,
what if I’m not everything she’d hoped for?

Jenny tried to brush away the growing
self-doubt that had nagged at her since she’d woken that morning, attempting to
dismiss the thought that she was letting a stranger come to her home without
taking any safety precautions at all. This was so unlike her. Yet, Jenny had to
concede it was exactly like her; or at least, exactly how she used to be years
ago. She just hoped she wasn’t about to pay for being far too trusting.

The woman oozed seduction. A faint line of
amusement flickered at the corner of her lips, reminding Jenny of how John
looked at her. She swallowed back a relieved sigh. It would be all right; she
had chosen well, and she was fairly sure that her caller felt the same.

‘When will he be here?’

‘Any minute now.’

‘Good.’ The woman’s accent was caramel smooth,
and she radiated confidence as she stepped closer to her host. There was no
doubt she had played this game before, and Jenny was grateful for her calm
demeanor
, for it did
much to soothe Jenny’s own soaring nerves as the clock ticked around to one.

‘What shall I call you?’ Jenny licked her
lips, unable to keep her eyes from the delicate buds she could clearly see
pressing against her guest’s cotton shirt.

‘I use Carrie for these games. You?’

Jenny hadn’t even given her name a thought.
Should I tell her my real name, or what?
‘I’m
not sure.’

Again Jenny was grateful to the other
woman, who, as there was a hammering on the glass of the front door, took her
clammy hand in her palm and clutched it gently. ‘Names don’t matter. You want
this, I can see you do. It’s a present for him, so let’s make it a gift he’ll
never ever forget. Yes?’

‘Oh yes.’ Breathing out the words rather
than speaking them, Jenny headed to the door.

Carrie called out as Jenny was about to let
John in, ‘Exactly as we planned over the email, okay?’

‘Okay.’ Exhaling deeply, Jenny opened the
front door.

John looked wary, yet excitement reflected
in his brown eyes as Jenny let him in. A bubble of exhilaration rose in her
chest as she contemplated what he was about to witness: his ultimate fantasy
come true.

When they reached her living room, Carrie walked
to Jenny with a provocative swing of her hips, and took her by the hand. As the
reality of the situation sank in, glorious, hopeful lust flickered in John’s
shining eyes.

A suggestive smile playing on her lips,
Jenny gestured to her armchair. ‘Would you like to sit down, John?’

John sat with a sigh, keeping his gaze
fixed on Carrie as she took his lover into her arms and kissed her deeply.

Jenny had forgotten how good it felt to
kiss a woman. How soft it was, how pliable. She could have
savored
those foreign
lips forever, but her exploration was broken when Carrie stepped away from
their embrace. Slowly and deliberately, the visitor undid each of the five
buttons of her blouse to reveal creamy, almond-tipped breasts.