The further adventures of a well endowed pizza delivery guy.
The blaring techno-pop music jarred me awake. I hate techno-pop, that's why I use it force myself out of bed in the mornings. I lunged across my bedroom and stabbed at the off switch of my sound system. The relentless thumping bass cut off and I sighed, wiping the palm of my hand down my face. The bathroom was my next stop. I made sure that my half-hard dick was pointed at the toilet and cut loose. It doesn't take me long to piss. I might have an otherwise unremarkable body, but I'm hung like a horse. Even if my bladder is full to the point of aching, it gets emptied in a hurry. A girl once told me that it sounded as if I was emptying a bucket of water into the toilet.
In the kitchen, I ate a bowl of cereal and set the coffee maker to work. Then it was time for my shower. I journeyed back to the bathroom and started the water to flowing. Taking off the string pants that I sleep in, my cock arched away from my slim frame, steadily growing longer and thicker. It knew what was coming. I have to empty my balls three or four times a day, otherwise I walk around with a constant, painful hard-on. And I usually start the day with a hand job in the shower. I lathered up and while I let the warm water rinse off the soap, my thoughts went back a week to when I was taking a shower with three young ladies. I had delivered a pizza to the trio and one of the girls had seen my cock in action earlier in the evening. We had all ended up in the shower together where I brought two of the sexy teens to multiple orgasms. My hand traveled up and down the length of my massive penis as I remembered the feel of those pink pussies on my cock head. In just a couple of minutes the pressure at the base of my dick became unbearable. I aimed my dick at the two inch wide tiles on the far side of the shower and centered one with a pencil thick shot of cum. A dozen more tiles became my targets as I emptied my huge balls. The torrent of semen wound down until the last two blobs of cum fell with a splat to the floor of the shower and washed away down the drain. With that chore accomplished, I dressed, poured my hot coffee into a travel mug and headed out to face the day.
I hopped into my Mustang and started for my first class. I know that it says "Pizza Guy" at the beginning of this story, but I'm mostly a college student who only delivers pizzas on the side. I was sipping my coffee and following the line of cars headed for the college when a blue light began to flash in my rear view mirror. I got that sinking feeling that you get when you're caught at something, although I couldn't figure out what I had been caught at. I certainly hadn't been speeding, but I pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store and awaited my fate.
I watched in my side mirror as the officer emerged from his car. He appeared to be over six feet tall with neatly trimmed hair, broad shoulders and he had a waist that even a skinny guy like me could appreciate. His uniform was immaculate with razor sharp creases. His shoes and equipment belt were so highly polished that they gleamed in the morning sun. He had a craggy face and one of those chiseled out of granite jaws. He pulled off his sunglasses as he reached my car, and I looked up into piercing blue eyes that seemed to be staring at the back of my skull.
"Is your name Jack?" he asked in a crystal clear baritone.
"Yes, sir," I managed to say without stammering.
He stuck an immaculately manicured hand in my window and said, "I'd like to shake your hand, son. That was a nice piece of work you did last week."
Last week there had been a robbery at the pizza place where I work. I had managed to follow the crooks back to their lair. Well, actually it was a cheap rental unit with crack-house decor. I put the local cops onto the robbers and became a mini-hero.
I shook the man's hand. "Thanks, deputy," I said, and then I managed to read the perfectly squared-up name tag on his chest, "sorry, I mean Sheriff Vaughn."
The relief I had begun to feel disappeared like a wisp of smoke in a hurricane. You see, I had been banging the sheriff's wife on a regular basis. I hadn't known that she was the sheriff's wife at first. All I had known was that her name was Ginger and that she was a pizza delivery guy's dream come true. When Ginger's husband was out of town, she would call for a pie and I would deliver pizza along with a heavy dose of cock.
After the cops had captured those crooks, I had gone to the county court house in order to give a statement. There, I had run into Ginger who was working as an emergency dispatcher. Ginger had been pissed at her hubby, and before I could leave the court house, Ginger had me spraying cum all over the sheriff's office. I guess I had been in denial to think that the sheriff wouldn't find out who had coated his office with cock spunk. Now I didn't know if he was being sarcastic or actually congratulating me.
"I only wish that we had more good citizens like you," he said as he pumped my hand with a manly grip. The sheriff looked around as if he were afraid that someone might overhear his next words. His voice lowered to a confidential level. "Listen, that night at the courthouse, did you see an unusual number of deputies, or any sort of group of men?"
My spirits came unstuck from my shoes and started to rise once again. Obviously, he was investigating the source of the cum that coated office, but just as obviously, he didn't think that it came from skinny, little me. "I'm not sure how many would be unusual," I said innocently, "but I think that I saw five or six guys that night."
The sheriff nodded, and then looked as if he were considering something. "Hang on just a minute," he said, and walked back to his cruiser. When he returned, he was carrying a small black plastic case which he handed to me. "I have a favor to ask. I have a surveillance camera and recorder at my home and I have to go out of town for the weekend. My wife just loves those pizzas from where you work, and I was hoping that you could be the one to deliver the pizza. While you're there you could change the tape in the recorder for me."
It was all I could do to keep the look of complete and utter amazement off my face. I stared at the sheriff for several seconds and then managed to say, "Couldn't your wife or one of your deputies change the tape?" I asked.
Sheriff Vaughn cleared his throat loudly. "I'd rather that my wife didn't know about the camera. It would just make her nervous. And I don't want to involve a deputy. It's sort of a security thing," he finished lamely.
"Well, I guess that I could give it a try," I said. I didn't really want to do it, but how could I say no? Clearly, the sheriff was suspicious of his wife. I had to consider myself lucky. He was like a farmer begging a fox to keep an eye on his henhouse.
"Good man," said the sheriff, beaming. He told me where the recorder was hidden, and then praised my good citizenship until I was at the point of cringing.
My odd conversation with the sheriff stayed on my mind most of the morning. But warm weather at a college campus means tons of coeds with bare, shapely legs and breasts thrusting at tight tee-shirts. By noon my cock was ready for more action. Since it was Friday, I had a free hour in my class schedule from noon until one, which just happened to coincide with the office hours of my faculty advisor.
I tapped on the door frame to Ms Paplakis' office. True to her Greek heritage, Angela Paplakis, my faculty advisor, had dark, straight hair framing a handsome face. She was tall and slim and always dressed conservatively. Today she had on a dark gray, knee-length skirt with matching jacket and a black blouse. A thin, silver necklace was around her neck.
She looked up at my knock and smiled. "Hello Jack, how are you today?"
"Do you have a few minutes?" I asked, knowing very well that her next class was at one, just like mine.
"Come on in, and close the door," she answered.
I closed the door and made sure that it was locked. I had barely turned around before I had both arms full of warm, perfumed female body. Angela had removed her jacket and her bare arms went around my neck as she pressed her breasts to my chest. I responded by giving the inside of her mouth a good tongue lashing.
"I was hoping that you would come by today," she said breathlessly when our kiss ended.
My dick was already throbbing inside my jockey shorts. "I'm just glad that you're not busy."
Angela checked her watch. "Well, I do have a twelve-thirty," she said with an apologetic smile.
"We better get to it then," I said as I kicked off my shoes and dropped my pants and shorts to the floor. My cock swung out and up, jutting from my groin like another limb. Angela skinned out of her panty hose and neatly laid them along with her skirt on the back of her desk chair.
"Come here baby," she cooed to my dick. She ran her hand up my cum tube and was rewarded with a palm full of clear, oily fluid. "Let's get you all slicked up." She proceeded to smear the stuff all over my dick, paying particular attention to my doorknob sized head.
She playfully flicked my nose with a cum-wet finger and announced, "I think we're ready." She led me by the dick over to her desk, where she braced herself with one hand and pulled the head of my cock against her pretty, pink pussy lips. I eased about nine inches of rigid dick into the depths of her cunt. There's nothing like the feeling of that hot, moist flesh. I put my hands on my hips, spread my feet apart and proceeded to fuck Angela like a machine.
.... There is more of this story ...