I ordered a pizza to be delivered. I have plenty of money, but don’t intend to pay. I’ll have some fun playing with the pizza delivery guy and maybe get myself a free dinner.
The doorbell rings.
I’m naked, wearing only a short silk robe that hugs my body and shows plenty of leg and cleavage.
The pizza delivery guy is young and handsome. Not what I expected. His age and looks make my plan even more interesting.
He hands me the pizza and tells me that it costs $12.00.
“I don’t have any money.” I tell him, giving him my best, “I’m sorry” look.
“Is there any other way I can pay?” I ask, hardly believing that I am actually going through with this tease.
The young man hesitates and then stammers, not knowing what to say.
I can feel myself getting wet between my legs.
“How am I going to pay you?” I ask, as I take him by the hand and walk him through the door and into the house.
I am amused by the confused, uneasy, look on his face.
I untie my robe and let if fall open. He stands there, wide-eyed, staring at my fit body.
“Do you like what you see?” I ask, enjoying how uncomfortable I am making him. “If I let you touch my breasts, would that pay for my pizza?”
The young man surprises me by reaching out and pulling me close, grabbing my hair and kissing me. It is a strong, tongue down my throat, wet, sloppy kiss.
I can feel his hard cock against my stomach, as I try to escape his grasp.
“So, you want to fuck with the pizza boy?” he asks. “That’s not nice. Maybe you need to be taught a lesson.”
He lowers his head and takes a nipple in his mouth, flicking it around with his tongue. Then he bites the hard little nub.
“Ouch! That hurt.”
The young man says nothing and throws me onto the couch.
I watch as he lowers his pants, my nipple still stinging.
His manhood pops out and waggles back and forth. My god, he is big and thick. I am both excited and scared.
I was already wet. Now I am flowing.
He pushes me down to my knees, grabs my hair and pushes his cock up against my lips.
“Suck it!”
The head and part of the shaft slide between my lips, spreading my mouth open until it hurts.
Pizza boy pumps his manhood into my mouth. It is big; I try not to gag.
He is rough. This is not pleasure sex. I have been a bad girl and he intends on making me pay for my naughtiness.
Pizza boy fucks my mouth. My eyes water, saliva trickles from the corners of my mouth, my nose runs, and my mouth and jaw hurt.
He tosses me onto the couch, flips me over, moves my robe to the side, grabs the back of my neck, and pushes my face down into the couch seat.
I can feel the head of his cock at my pussy as he slides his giant spear over my wet lips and covers it with my nectar.
He enters me, slamming his full member into my hole.
My slit stretches to accommodate his pole, but I am being torn in half.
His thick tool begins to fuck my pussy.
I clench my teeth, my eyes water, and I cry out telling him that it hurts.
Pizza boy says nothing.
He slams his monster dick deep into me, impaling me on the couch.
Slowly, pleasure begins to mix with the pain.
“Harder.” I think to myself, not realizing that I am saying the word out loud.
Pizza boy fucks me deep and fast, pushing my face into the couch.
I feel the first urges of my own pleasure and release.
I can hear his balls slapping against my drenched pussy. He goes faster.
The building pleasure overcomes the pain of his big cock.
“Fuck, yes!” I yell out. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
I feel something sliding over my puckered hole. Pizza boy’s fingers fill my asshole and I am taken to another level of pain and pleasure.
I wanted to fuck with his mind, tease him, and maybe let him touch me.
Now I am his.
I have lost control. Pizza boy can do whatever he wants.
I cum. It is intense and long; it consumes my whole body; every fiber, every nerve. I can hear myself scream into the fabric of the couch seat.
But pizza boy is not done. He continues to fuck my love hole and hold my face against the couch for several more minutes.
He pulls his cock out of my cunt and I fall over, sitting on the floor with my back against the couch.
He grabs my hair and holds my head up, as he strokes his cock, arches his back, and shoots his seed on my face and hair.
He staggers a bit, then gains his composure, pulls his pants up over his massive, still throbbing instrument, and tucks in his shirt.
I sit, dazed, cum running down my face and dripping off my chin.
Pizza boy walks towards the door.
“Please. Don’t leave,” I beg.
He doesn’t even look back.
“Please. I want more! Please fuck me some more. Please.”
He turns and looks at me as he opens the door.
“You have our number,” he says. “No need for a tip.”
He steps outside and the door shuts.
I sit on the floor, strings of cum stretch from my chin to my tits and stomach.
“More. I need more!” I whisper.
