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This was the part of her job that really freaked her out. She took a short, deep breath, held it in and puffed out. No need to be nervous. She rang the doorbell. The blinds shifted and she turned and looked beyond the vast open field and into the sky, pretending not to notice. The door clicked open. Cheap door, she thought.
*quot;Hey, how are you?*quot; Always on the job, she hadn't even glanced at the customer and really didn't care how they were, as long as the transaction went smoothly and she could get the hell out of dodge.
*quot;Fine, and you?*quot; Obligatory eye-contact. Holy Fuck! Clinch - none of that - oh my.
*quot;I'm great,*quot; She handed him the receipt and a pen, waiting patiently. He placed the receipt on the pizza box that she was holding and scribbled a line. She'd never thought to admire a guy's hands and fingernails. First time for everything.
Why it was that these customers took the *quot;thirty minute wait*quot; line so literally that they felt they could get in and out of the shower before the pizza came, was beyond her - but this time she wasn't complaining.
His Bostancı Escort hair was wet so she couldn't quite tell if it was blonde or brown, and the dim lighting wouldn't allow her to figure out by looking at the stubble on his face. Though with his striking green eyes, she'd say that it would be unfair for him to have blonde hair, too. No one was that beautiful. The guy was the stuff cheap novels were made of. She imagined handing him the pizza and dropping her pants and panties. She imagined blatantly fingering her sex in front of him.
He still wouldn't fuck her.
Not even with her pussy served up on his pizza platter.
She took the signed receipt he handed her.
*quot;Thank you,*quot; she sing-songed automatically, a poor habit she couldn't break even when old ladies stared at her like they wanted to slap her for being insulting and condescending. She still hadn't gotten used to this job.
Even if she stood there, right in front of him, fingering her wet cunt, assaulting her creamy, hot hole, begging him to take her up on her offer, he would Erenköy Escort still take his large, pepperoni, onion, and extra-cheese pizza and shut the door.
*quot;You're welcome,*quot; She handed him the pizza and bent down to pick up the two-liter she'd placed on the porch because she could no longer hold everything at once and hyperventilate at the same time.
*quot;You know, I lied,*quot; Confusion. What was he saying?
*quot;I'm actually bored as hell and I really don't have much room for leftovers in my fridge, so you'd be doing me a great favor if you joined me,*quot;
Greasy pepperoni-onion flavored kisses, hot and heavy, was that mine or yours? Mmmnh, knees finding intimate places, hands following right along. Whoops there went your towel; I knew you should have changed once you invited me in, now I'll have to suck that cock. Hot, thick, hardness, filling her mouth, thrusting, gagging, blocking her air flow, brushing against her teeth. Her mouth salivating, making a happy passage. Grunts and groans. Strong hands behind her head, pulling, pushing, shifting her tightly Göztepe Escort wound pony tail. Her panties sticking and clinging leaving kisses on her thighs, a path to an unfulfilled question, a throb. When? Dainty fingers slipping gingerly lower to touch, tease, caress, pluck, pinch until suddenly that hand is jerked out and away and placed high above her head, her body following roughly behind until her back meets the floor and her pants are jerked down and that question is answered by a swift, sharp thrust into her cunt, her bare ass burned by the cheap fibers of the carpet because of the momentum of that single thrust. Wet bites on her neck that she'll still see tomorrow, hard pounding, delving and digging she'll have until the end of time.
His sweaty forehead touches hers, his stubble scrubs away the trail of saliva his mouth just made on her heaving, inflamed cheek. she grins, grimaces, her eyes squinch shut, her cervix is backed into a corner. The head of his cock leaves it battered and bruised and they meet again, over, and over, and over, and it feels...
so
fucking
good.
*quot;You're right, I'm sorry it was inappropriate of me to ask. Don't know what I was thinking - I'm drunk for one.*quot; She hears his self-deprecating laugh and nods. She leaves the porch, hearing the door click shut. Cheap door.