Copyright, May 2001,

I pulled into the lot and parked behind the building. I still had twenty minutes before I had to punch in, so I thought I'd relax for a few minutes, listen to a few tunes and have a final cigarette. I was 38 years old, and I'd taken a part time job delivering pizza's in the evenings to bring in some extra cash and help get some bills off my back. The base pay check stunk, but the tips weren't bad at all. It was a small town and there were only three pizza houses to start with. Then last month the local Domino's was shut down and our place seemed to get the lion's share of their business. On a weekday night, I would usually pull down at least $60.00 in tips, then weekends usually brought in $110.00 plus, all for the same five to six hour shift. This was a Friday night, I knew we'd be busy. It was late January in Michigan, and I also knew that half the drivers would refuse to deliver off the main roads - there'd been a fresh snowfall last night. More deliveries for me and my $400.00, ratty, 10-year old Ford Ranger Pick-up. It looked nasty, but it was 100% reliable. Besides, at 26-Miles Per Gallon it was excellent for delivery work.

As I was finishing my cigarette, and getting ready to head in, Rebecca came out the back door. Yesterday had been her 18th birthday, and I had yet to wish her a happy one. I had a small gift on the seat beside me for her. I knew she wasn't leaving since she wasn't wearing her coat. As she crossed the drive to her car, I saw her looking around. She looked steadily at my truck for a few seconds, then started pulling her shirt tail from her pants. I had put out my cigarette and had my hand on her gift as I opened the truck door. The dome light didn't come on... it worked, but with the delivery work, I'd taped over the door button. There was no street light behind the store, but there was a three-quarter moon and the night was cloudless.

As I was getting out of my truck, I saw Becca pull her shirt over her head and almost fell on my ass because of the sight before me I didn't watch where I was putting my foot. When she'd stripped off her shirt, her breasts came into plain view. I knew it wasn't an accident, just as I knew this show was for my benefit. As I'd pulled into the lot, I'd clearly seen her through the front window, taking an order at the counter. I know she saw my truck pull in, and she had looked directly at it as she'd crossed to her car. Besides, Becca always wore a T-shirt under her work shirts, and this was the first time, in the four months I'd worked here that I'd ever known her to be at work without a bra.

I let the truck door close quietly and walked around the intervening cars. As I watched, she stepped to the curb and scooped two small handfuls of snow, rubbing it into her chest and breasts, all without looking my way. As I started to walk up behind her I asked myself just what the hell I thought I was doing. At 5'4, Becca weighed about 125lb. But, she had no fat. At 34-23-34, she was on the Varsity track team at school and had set a few school records. While her hands had been over her head, her breasts had stood proud, but when she'd lowered her arms, they had sagged back, sloping gently down and away to her nipples.

I couldn't believe I didn't have sense enough to ignore the show and simply go into the store. I mean, she wasn't really the most attractive woman I'd known, she was simply pretty. Her mousy brown hair was over her shoulders, and straight. She wore it in a simple pony-tail at work, and she looked better that way than when it was down. It seemed to add character to her face. Being 18, she had an acne problem, her nose was too big, her lips too thin, her eyebrows were too heavy and kind of wild, and she had a mustache. The mustache was not really surprising as she was of Polish-Italian extraction and her mother's mustache was better than mine (met her when I delivered them a pizza a few months ago). But Becca had the most soulful brown eyes, she'd trapped me in them a few times since I'd started working there. Top that off with the highest tightest butt I'd ever come across in sprayed on pants, and I wouldn't care if the town's entire police department was surrounding me with guns drawn... If this show was for me, I wanted it.

"Quite a show you've got going there, Becca. Do I need to buy a ticket?"

She jumped at the first sound of my voice, then turned to face me with her hands over her breasts, but no other signs of modesty or surprise. She didn't blush, she didn't look back over her shoulder or crouch away at all. She was standing proud, simply holding her breasts covered. "Damn you, Ray. Make a little noise will you. You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry, I didn't think I was being quiet." I reached out and took her right wrist, gently pulling her hand away from her chest and placed her gift, a 6-inch stuffed Teddy Bear holding a rose, in it. We were looking into each others eyes as I did it. "Happy Birthday, dear. I hope it was a happy one." I still hadn't looked down.

She looked at the bear in her hand and smiled. "Thank you. I like this better than the crap my family got me." I still had a light hold on her wrist, and as she looked down and then back up I took her other wrist and pulled it away as well. When she was looking into my face again, I made a show of spreading her arms wide and leaning back to look down at her chest. They were beautiful.

Not the firmest, and they were heavier at the bottom than the top, as I'd already noted, they sagged some and formed a gentle slope from top to tip. There were four or five hairs in the valley between her breasts and six or eight surrounding each aureole. The aureole themselves were over an inch across and elongated. The nipples were standing proud from the cold snow and were narrow, just over a quarter inch long, with a single drop of water suspended from the left one. "Changing shirts?"

"Yeah, Sally's not coming in so I'm going to help driving for a couple of hours. I don't want to wear the manager's shirt for that."

"Besides, you saw me drive in, and for some reason you wanted to give me a show."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Let's see," ticking points off on my fingers. "You always wear a bra, tonight you're not. You never go outside in the cold without your coat, tonight you did. You always wear a T-shirt, and you pulled both shirts off - not just one. AND, you ALWAYS change your shirts in the bathroom, tonight you didn't. Besides, I know you saw me pull in. Teasing an old man?"

"No, not teasing." She set the stuffed bear on her car and cupped both hands under her breasts, "What do you think?"

"I think they make me want to play," I said. "I think they make me want to say the hell with work, let's throw you into my truck and go find a bed. I think I'd better get the fuck away from you, before I do just that." Just then I heard the back door of the store open. With me between her and the door, she was completely hidden from view, but her arms still slid across her breasts as she tried to get narrower behind me.

"Rebecca, Randy wants to know what's taking so long," called out Nancy from the door.

"We'll be right in," I called back over my shoulder. "Tell him the dirty old man is giving her a birthday gift"

"Okay, No problem, Ray" When the door had closed again Becca dropped her arms, placing one on each of my elbows, letting out the breath she'd held since the door first opened. I felt her hands trembling slightly on my arms. Though outspoken, she was really a shy young woman. What she was doing was extremely daring for her. Her eyes were shining a thanks up into mine. Reaching out I gently pinched both nipples, "Becca, you shouldn't be making such promises as this to a dirty old man. Especially since you've made it plain, in the past, that I can't have what this promises. Hell, we never have the time alone together anyway."

"I am closing manager tonight, and you are closing driver. I've always flirted and joked with you, just as you have with me, and I've always loved it. I've held you away only because I wasn't 18. A month before you hired in, another man, in his 20's was fired and had to leave town, because Nancy gave him her cherry. I didn't want the same to happen to you... I like having you around."

"I remember hearing a little about that. Nancy's what 15, 16?"

"Fifteen. She was tired of being the only virgin in the group, so she went after him. Someone talked. Though they both denied it, he lost his job and her mother was hunting for him with a gun. Sammy finally had to skip town - at least for a while. BUT, I'm legal now, it's MY idea, and as far as I'm concerned, you're not going to give me my real gift until the doors are locked tonight. Then, we've got the whole store to ourselves. The local cops were in a while ago and I told them we were staying late tonight for extra cleaning and tomorrow's prep. We both open tomorrow as well."

"Sounds good, but we'd better get inside. I still haven't clocked in yet, and there are probably deliveries up."

"Yeah, and though this whole thing has me a hot, I am starting to get chilled. Do I get a kiss?"

"Later. If I start kissing you now, we'll be here another ten minutes, minimum." So saying, I turned my back on her and walked to the door and inside. I was walking on air, and I couldn't wait to get at the rest of her.

Two minutes later, I was on clock and carrying a car-top sign out to my truck when Becca came in wearing her replacement shirts. I could also tell, by the way things didn't move, that she'd pulled on a bra. Five minutes later, my change bank in my pocket and three deliveries balanced on one arm, I was out on my first run.

Becca and I saw each other only three times in the next four hours. The actual rush, died at three, but Randy was the type who sent people home at the least slow down. Many is the time we got caught short handed because of it. When I finally came in the door and didn't find an order ready and waiting, it was almost ten. Randy and 80% of the inside staff were gone. Rebecca was back in her white Manager's shirt, and there were only two driver's left. Me and Sheila, and, as usual, Sheila was already crying to leave (but, Sheila was always crying to leave. 15 minutes after she came to work, she was crying to leave - then when payday rolled around, she'd cry that her check was too small).

Becca looked past her as I came in and asked if I could handle the rest of the deliveries alone. Commenting "Don't I always?" I walked past them and started catching up the dishes. THAT was why Sheila always wanted to leave. She didn't mind the deliveries, and she would fold pizza boxes, but when things slowed down, it was time to catch up the cleaning (doing dishes, sweeping and mopping floors, and cleaning up all of the counters and work surfaces), she didn't like doing that. She also wouldn't answer phones - another driver job when we weren't busy. Honestly, I was never unhappy to see her go.

As Sheila clocked out, Becca came over to the sinks and helped me with the dishes, a normal thing. Nancy started sweeping the floor and Jeff started working on boxes (about all HE was good for, once we slowed down). "What will we do if we get slammed between 10:30 and 11:30, like last week"

"We'll handle it, like we did then. When are the others scheduled to leave?"

"Nancy at 11:00, Jeff at 10:00."

Looking over my shoulder at Jeff I asked, "Can you do 11:00 tonight?"

"Yes, I left an hour early the other day, it'll help keep my check up."

"Nancy? If we get a good rush, can you stay until it's over?"

"I'll help close if you need the help, guys."

Becca popped up "No, I think Ray and I can handle the closing. You can leave at 11:00 unless we're busy." Then looking at me, "I take it you are thinking aboutme helping with the deliveries?"

"Only if we are really slammed and I start getting more than four orders behind. Up to that point I can handle it. Heavier than that and we'll have time complaints. If it comes to it, Nancy is almost as fast as you are on the make-line, Jeff can handle the phones and the cut table, while you cover anything I might be too slow on. Sound like a plan?"

"Workable. Ray, will you answer a question?"

"Serious questions get serious answers, bullshit gets bullshit back. Shoot."

"Didn't Randy offer you the night manager's job two month's ago, before he offered it to me?"

"Yes, he did."

"Why did you turn it down?"

"You know I drive a service truck during the day... sometimes, because of it, I'm a little late for work here. I couldn't afford to be late if I was manager. Also, I can basically pick and choose what nights I want to work, I'm a too good a driver for him not to allow me some leeway there. With two exceptions, I usually deliver three for every two of the other drivers. Occasionally, things come up and I have to tell him I can't work on a night he's come to expect me here. As a manager, he couldn't allow me to do that. Besides, as a manager the most he'll pay me is about $8.50 an hour (I also know you are getting $7.90 right now). As a driver, counting tips, I average $10. to

$12.00 an hour, and have occasional nights that I make $15.00 to $20.00."

"How do you know what I make?"

"Dear, I may be an old man, to most of you, but that doesn't mean I don't understand computers and how things work. I know Randy's manager's codes, I know Ben's codes, and I know yours. I have had to get into the system before to correct faults in the middle of the shift - because no one else working could figure them out. I couldn't make those corrections without the codes. I have to know everyone's codes because only the on duty manager's codes will work. Randy gave them all to me months ago, over the phone. I just never forgot them."

As I moved the last dish to the drain rack and reached for a rag to dry my hands, Becca turned and scanned the room. The others must have been out of sight because she reached down the front of my jeans and gave a gentle squeeze. "I can hardly wait until the door's locked and I get my present," she said softly. Then seemed almost stunned at her boldness and blushed a bright scarlet. As she started walking away, I reached back and quickly patted her departing ass.

The phones started ringing.

It was two minutes to midnight when I returned from my last delivery. All during my runs tonight, I had been thinking about Rebecca, about the promise of the night to come. About my being twenty years her senior. Wondering also just how much of an infatuation she had, whether I would have to change my comments and attitudes around her while working. I always tried to keep things light, semi-flirtatious, with most of the females working in the store (no matter their age) and joking, slightly put-downish or one-up with the guys (normal guy-guy thing). I knew exactly how far I could push the jokes and comments with each employee. When I arrived each time, I quickly judged the attitude and moods everyone was in that day and adapted my dealings with them accordingly.

I was perfectly capable of carrying on with Rebecca, without any outward change in comments, approach, or attitudes. But, was she? I had been involved with younger women before (though not so disparate in age), and had found that continued flirtations had caused friction. They had worried that others would learn of our liaisons, becoming more uptight about things. Such sudden changes in attitudes only made others look.

Before anything else happened, I would have to talk to Becca about this.

Jeff, of course, had disappeared some time ago, while I was out. Becca had made one run with three nearby orders an hour ago, but otherwise had remained in the store and I had managed to keep things timely. Nancy was still there and doing dishes when I came in, carrying the sign from my truck.

Nancy was bigger than Rebecca in most respects. At 15, she stood 5'8", she had large bones, and what I referred to as a north German farm girls build. Thick through the ribcage, broad shouldered, narrow waisted and small hipped. She had a whopping 34DD-22-32 figure long, long blonde hair, and loved to flirt as much as I did. She was also very strong.

I gave the floors a final sweep and mopping and carried out the trash as the two girls were putting the cleaned 'make line' back together. When I came back in, Becca was counting the till and Nancy was pulling on her coat. As I passed her I asked, "Need a ride home?"

"No. Mom's already coming to pick me up. She always wants to make sure I come right home after work."

"Still doesn't quite trust you yet?"

"Oh, you know? Who told you?"

Not wanting to cause trouble between the girls, I thought fast, "You did, believed it or not. I overheard parts of a couple of conversations you were having and put two and two together with a couple of odd comments some of the others have made to you."

"Do you think I'm bad or a slut because of it?"

"Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Mom acts like she thinks I'm a slut and will screw every boy I see."

"Do you want to?"

"Only a few of them," she said with a smile, patting my ass twice as she walked behind me to clock out. "... And Mom trusts you."

"And you're only fifteen." I said. "I love you Nancy, you have a body I would fight others to possess, and a personality I would kill others to protect. But you're fifteen, and one of my personal rules is that my partners have to be of legal age. I'd tell you to come see me in two and a half years, but by then you will be totally involved with some boy."

"I may still come see you." Then her mother pulled up and she was gone.

Becca and I finished with all our closing chores, talking about what we were about to do and or future working relationship the entire time. Locking the doors, we turned the lights off and retired to the office. I emptied one of the desks and spread a dozen cooks aprons for a little softness as she closed and adjusted the blinds and locked the door. I turned the ringer off on the telephone as Becca removed her clothes and placed them on a chair. When I turned around, she was standing naked before me. Her bush was a very dark brown and heavy enough to completely conceal her final charms from view. "Last chance to change your mind."

"You're standing in front of me, wearing only a come-hither look in your eyes, and you actually think I might change my mind?"

"No. That's why I stripped before I asked. Would you like a nipple?" she asked, cupping one breast and offering it to me, as she raised the other one and extended her tongue to play with it's distending tip.

"No," I said, placing a knuckle under her chin and lifting lightly. "What I want first, is to give you that kiss you asked for earlier. I figure at least fifteen minutes of just necking and cuddling before we start other things. What do you think?" I'd moved back to sit in an armless swivel chair as I talked, never taking my knuckle from beneath her chin, not lifting nor pulling. She followed me as if her chin was glued in place, her eyes shining and her smile growing larger on her face. "Something surprising?"

"Every guy I've ever been with always wanted to start by playing with my chest or my pussy. They couldn't wait to get their mouths or hands on things."

"Lack of experience. I will admit though, I WANT to play with your tits. I WANT to bury a hand between your thighs. I WANT to throw you on the table and bump bellies until we both scream. BUT, YOU will enjoy it more if we start slowly. We will both enjoy it more if things build, gradually. If we can increase the anticipation and desire, use our lips, tongues, fingers, everything we have, to caress each other from head to toe, lighting all the fires we can before applying the hose to douse the flames, then your 'birthday present' will be more satisfying all around." My butt hit the chair as I finished speaking.

Becca straddled my lap, crossing her wrists behind my neck and leaned in for a kiss. We held the kiss for about a minute before she pulled back and wrinkled her nose at me. "Oh, thatwas starting to get so good, but your mouth tastes like an ashtray." She doesn't smoke, I do.

"Okay. Stand up."

Wriggling her hips and rubbing her pussy on my jeans, "I don't want to."

"Stand up, please." She did, with a pout on her lips. Standing, I took her left hand and guided it between her own legs, leading it in a circular motion across her outer lips, near the top. A surprised look crossed her face for a few moments, then her eyes half closed and her head sagged forward just a little. Placing my knuckle under her chin again I lifted her face to look at me. "You keep that up until I get back inside and we're in that chair again. Can you do that?."

"Oh, I think so, as long as it doesn't take too long. I'd hate to finish before we even get started."

"If you orgasm before then, don't stop. Start working things to the next level. Keep your hand working. If your clitoris becomes too sensitive, don't touch it directly, rub further down or spread your legs and fuck yourself with your fingers. We won't be 'finished' for at least an hour, probably more." As I spoke, I was again backing around and away from her, again she followed, though slightly splay legged this time, never taking her eyes from mine, never stopping her hand, acting like we were super-glued together at that knuckle. When we neared the back door I guided her back to an upright freezer and leaned her against it. Kissing her forehead, "Wait here. I'll be right back in."

I started to pull my knuckle away and she dipped her head, catching it in her teeth, wrapping her lips around it and running her tongue around it wetly, once. Releasing me, she kissed it once and said, "Don't be too long, you hear?"

"Less than two minutes, Dear." I quickly ducked out the door, propping it open so it wouldn't latch behind me (I don't have a key). Walking to my truck, I reached behind the seat and took out my 'Barbie' clothes mini-suitcase. A small tin 6" x 8" pink and white suitcase I found at a yard sale for a quarter back during my military days. It held a shaving kit.

I used to carry the normal 'soft pouch' style shaving kits, but the second time I opened my duffel bag and found everything smelling like my after shave and Listerene, I started looking for something with a hard shell to carry my kit. This mini-suitcase did the job, even if it did occasionally get me some ribbing.

I drive, a lot. I have friends throughout Indiana, Michigan, Ohio and Wisconsin whom I will sometimes just decide to go visit on the spur of the moment. I keep a shaving kit and two changes of clothes in all my cars, all the time.

Back inside, Becca was definitely getting there. Small beads of sweat were gathering on her upper lip and across her brow. A single drop had gathered and was quivering against a fine hair in the valley between her breasts. Leaning close I kissed her forehead, each eyelid, her cheek then lightly bit her right ear, tracing the edge with my tongue. Placing a knuckle gently against her chest I softly guided it up through the valley, collecting the sweat gathering there. Becca watch the movement of my hand with fascination as it slide slowly between her breasts, then moved to my mouth where I sucked the salty liquid from my finger. She sighed softly in her throat.

Leading her again, she groaned when she had to move once more, but followed as we were once again attached at knuckle and chin. Into the bathroom we went, where she was puzzled by Barbie's portrait on the side of my little case. Opening it I revealed the shaving kit. I removed my toothbrush, and a box containing a new replacement brush. A little Crest on each brush and I handed her one as I began brushing my teeth, tongue, the entire inside of my mouth. Everything the brush could reach.

I couldn't get it all, as the odor was permeated throughout; my clothes, skin, lungs, et al., but I hoped it would be better for her.

As she started brushing her teeth, the hand between her legs stopped moving. Using my free hand, I reached between her legs and restarted the strokes. Pressing harder, I guided her fingers deeper between her pussy lips and after five or six strokes I curled my middle finger on the backs of her two center fingers, guiding all three into the opening of her hidden tunnel. Very quickly we were both gently stroking in unison until we were as deep as we could reach. At the penetration, her brushing hand paused and she sucked in a breath past the brush. But, as our strokes reached their maximum depth, then continued, slowly drawing almost completely out before beginning a slow soft slide back into the depths, her brushing motions started again.

As I removed the brush from my mouth and started the water so we could rinse and spit, I added something new to the movement of our hands. At maximum depth I guided our hands in a small tight circle, pressing the palms upwards into the lips, rubbing them against each other as well as making a small rotation within the depths of her pussy. It was the third or fourth such stroke when her fingers touched her pleasure spot. When it happened, it was obvious. Her muscles tensed for a moment, her brushing hand froze for an instant, and her knees almost gave way beneath her. I was bent forward over the sink, spitting and rinsing my mouth with handfuls of water, when it happened.

Standing, I caught her brushing hand in mine and removed the brush from her mouth, guiding it to drop in the sink as I leaned in and kissed her. Her freed hand went behind my head, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling my face tightly to hers as she further cleaned my teeth and tongue with the toothpaste on hers.

Every stroke or two we found her joy spot again and her legs were quivering now as she passed through a few mini-orgasms, the moisture and heat in her pussy increasing. As she released me and leaned forward to spit her breasts sliding to either side of my arm, it's hand still working within her pussy. She started giggling. "What a site we must make."

"Do you want to stop?"

"Hell no, this feels too good." She paused as our fingers brought more pleasure to the magic spot within her. "Oh. God, what is that? It feels so damn good."

"A new sensation?"

"Oh, fuck yes. I've never reached inside myself before, only touched the outside. and my boyfriends have never touched that with their fingers or anything else."

"Well, it's called the "g" spot in most things you read about it. But that's just because someone thought it had to have a name. I've always liked to think of it as a mystic garden and we're planting the seeds of pleasure."

"Mmmm, I like the sounds of that."

As we talked, I reached into my little case again and removed a small bottle of mouthwash, spinning the top free with my fingers. "Here, take a mouthful and hold

it," I said passing the bottle to her. When she handed it back to me I filled my mouth, then leaned in for a kiss. Our mouths opened and we began passing the liquid back and forth, dueling with our tongues, swirling it as we sent it sliding from one mouth to the other, then back again. Her free hand once again behind my head , mine

behind hers, clenched in her hair as I became even more excited.

I added another finger to those already in her pussy and after a few strokes, I pressed as deeply into her as I could, pressing her palm tightly across her snatch, beginning to move it in a rapid rubbing action. First buried deeply and traveling in circles, then sliding upwards, our fingers coming almost free before sliding once more into her slippery depths, alternating the action every few seconds, generating as much sensation as I could for her clitoris, and on each forward plunge, curling our fingers forward, guiding them... seeking... and usually finding, that magic spot on every dive into the deeps. I wanted to bring her off, right here, right now, quickly. I was striving to put her over the edge.

Dropping my hand from her head to her breast, grasping a nipple, first gently, then more firmly, I rolled the nipple between my fingers, then pinched it. Allowing the fingers to slide up the sides of her tit, my palm came flat over the nipple and I crushed her breast back into her chest, rotating my hand in circles and feeling the nipple move ever so slightly against my palm, attempting to further her sensations. My hand slid back away again, the fingers dragging firmly out the flesh of her breast as if digging furrows in her skin. Once more at the tip, my nails lightly pinched, twice. Not the nipple itself, but the aureole, just above and below the nipple, then beginning to slide once more back upslope and down, bringing the palm into play yet again.

Any science or deliberate guidance between her legs was gone. Our fingers, still moving as one, were now plunging furiously in and out of her pussy, fucking her as rapidly as we could move them. The tips slightly curled striving still to stimulate the sensitive nerve bundle within. Her palm making a wet slapping sound with each thrust. Her juices now sliding past my knuckles and across the back of my thrusting hand.

My palm was also adding to the slapping sounds as it flattened with each stroke against the back of her hand, driving it more firmly into her lips and the sheath surrounding her clitoris.