My first two years out of high school, I attended a community college, and worked as a delivery driver for a well-known pizza delivery chain we’ll call “Checkers” to protect the innocent.
It was a pretty good job. Most of the drivers were needed in the evening so it didn’t interfere with classes. You got paid a salary, tips and commission (to pay for gas) which averaged more than $8.00 an hour when minimum wage was closer to $4.00.
And once you really got to know your area, and your repeat customers, you could drive that hourly wage up to over $12.00 an hour.
Heck, I thought it was decent money.
I was one of the top two drivers, out of about 50 in our store. There might be as many as a dozen or more drivers on during a busy evening, but as a top driver you were usually able to pick your own runs. If you could plan out an efficient route, get multiples pizzas delivered on a single run, and get them there on time, you were guaranteed to take 3 or more pizzas out at a time, while the new guys were lucky to get 1 delivered in ’30 minutes or less’. It made all the difference. You learned to run back to your vehicle, and into the store, and you avoided high traffic areas. You never turned off your car, and you made change on the way to each delivery for even bill payments. Anything to save a little time here or there. The more runs you made, the more deliveries you made, the more money you made.
Just as important as knowing your area was knowing your customers.
Big Dale, who lived behind the liquor store, ordered an EBA (Everything but Anchovy) pizza every Thursday night at 11:55 like clockwork. It was a short run and a guaranteed $3.03 tip.
A local church group ordered 5 pizzas every other Wednesday right at the heart of our rush hour. It was out of the way and nobody wanted it. I took it every time because the tip was almost always $4.00 and the commission added another $1.50. Worth more than two of most othere delivery trips.
There was a lady on Emerald Lane, in a neighborhood almost nobody could find, at the very limit of our delivery area that would order a pizza every couple of weeks. She only wanted a medium pizza, and she only tipped about $1.00. She always showed up at the door in a sheer black nightgown over black lingerie. I don’t think she owned anything else. The call takers would flag me down whenever she placed an order, and I’d do my damnedest to deliver it.
The three guys living on Simmons would only leave about 80 cents tip, but more often than not they’d offer you a beer. You learned to chug it fast.
There was a gay couple in the Monroe towers, 5th floor that NOBODY wanted to take. It would slow you down so much to have to park, go inside, get buzzed upstairs, take the elevator, deliver the pizza and do the same on the way back. I owned that address. They were the nicest guys in the world, tipped $5.00, and would sometimes offer me a beer as well. My kind of customers.
But my favorite customers, hands down, were the Reynolds. The Reynolds lived just outside of our delivery area, but I made the delivery anyway, as a personal run. When the order came in, I drove the 3 blocks outside of the delivery area, made the delivery, which was guaranteed never to be late, and almost always got a $2.66 tip off the deal, the change from $15.00. Even better, I was allowed to buy the pizza at an employee discount, so I made another three bucks off the transaction.
I would have PAID $20.00 to make that delivery. Well maybe not at first.
The first time was an easy mistake. The girl taking the order recognized Nandrell Street as in our area, but left out a digit in the address. Nandrell Street dead ended in a park, and picked up again on the far side, for a distance of three whole blocks, all outside of our area. Anything starting with a ‘1’ was on Nandrell West, and was an address in the 10,000’s. She had written down 1042, instead of 10402. I knew it because there were no houses in the 1000 block of Nandrell East.
I was out on the run, and recognized the error only after I’d already delivered one pizza in the area. I went ahead and completed the run.
An attractive older brunette in a robe answered the door. I immediately thought of Dorothy on Emerald Lane, and was almost sorry to have to explain the situation. She asked me to step in while she wrote the check.
“I’m sorry it took a while, ma’am,” I told her, even though I was still under the 30 minute limit. “But unfortunately you’re out of the delivery area. Our area ends at the end of Nandrell East. I had to drive around the park to get here. In the future, the drivers probably won’t be able to make the delivery. Our computer system kicks out the address as out of area, but the pizza girl wrote the address wrong and it slipped through the cracks.”
A much older guy, naked as a jaybird walked into the room as I was finishing my explanation.
“Harold!” the lady scolded, then reached for a robe on a hook by the door. “The boy might be offended.”
Harold gracelessly took the robe and put it on.
She wrote out the check including a two dollar tip. As she passed it to me she bemoaned the situation. “It’s too bad. Nobody delivers out here. What if we met you at the edge of your delivery area, and paid you there? Would that be Ok?” she asked.
“Not really, Ma’am. We’re not supposed to do it. Driver’s have been robbed, delivering to fake addresses, and we’re supposed to call back and verify the number and address.” I showed her the address on the check. “They’ll catch this one when I go to close-out tonight.” The name on the check was Marcia and Harold Reynolds. It matched the ‘Reynolds’ name supplied on the order ticket.
She looked so disappointed; I wanted to help out if I could. You always liked a two-dollar tipper. And maybe if she understood I went out of my way, she could become a three dollar tipper. Three dollars for three blocks was a pretty good trade off.
“Ma’am, we’re not supposed to do it, but if you ask the girl taking the order if Dan is driving, and tell them it’s a personal delivery, I’m allowed to deliver it on my own. It’s usually for friends and family, off the clock. Just give them the 1042 address, and I’ll deliver it when I can. I can’t guarantee it’ll be in 30 minutes or less, but if it’s as late as tonight, I can probably get it here pretty quick.”
“Why Daniel! That’s very kind of you, but I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”
“I think I’ll get by ma’am. I’ve been there a while, and do a good enough job to get to bend a few rules now and then.”
Harold seemed anxious to eat his dinner, and he carried the pizza off to the back of the house. “Let the boy go already, Marcy. He’s burning money every minute he’s not out there delivering the next pie.” At the door he turned, “Thank you young man, your offer is very kind.”
“It is very kind, and I’m almost ashamed to say I’ll probably take you up on it. Pizza is a personal weakness of mine, and I just hate to go out again once I’m home from work.”
“It’ll be my pleasure, Mrs. Reynolds. I work most weeknight evenings except Tuesdays. Just make sure you ask for a personal delivery from Dan.”
I eased out the door, and ran to my car, in a hurry to get back. Harold was right. I probably lost a run in the time I’d spent there, and the $2.00 tip probably wasn’t worth it. Maybe I’d have better luck in the future.
* * *
I’d completely forgotten about the order until three weeks later when Debbie, working the phones, told me I had a personal delivery for Harold. It took a second for that to register and then I checked the address. It was already after 9:00pm so things were really slowing down. “Anything else in the West Falls area?”
Karen, at the next phone station, announced a nearby run she’d taken an order for a few minutes earlier. A two box run, to the right area, with no timer on the second pizza. I was happy to take it.
I got there in 24 minutes. If you’ve ever been a “Checkers” delivery driver, you get very good at knowing exactly how long each run took.
Harold answered the door again, and I announced the pizza, as was my style, reading from the label. “Large Deluxe Checker’s Pizza, one half-no green peppers.”
When I looked up I noticed that Harold was naked again. What was that about, was he some kind of damned exhibitionist?
“Harold, your robe.” I heard from inside the room, and when I peeked inside the door, I saw a naked Mrs. Reynolds headed my way.
“Jesus!” he griped, walking away with the pizza, sans robe. “It’s my damn house.”
“Good evening, Ma’am,” I said hesitantly, trying to hide my nervousness. “That’ll be $12.34.” I tried not to stare.
She grabbed her robe from beside the door, slipped it on, and then reached for her purse. “I’m sorry about Harry; he forgets that not everybody is at ease seeing nudity.”
She turned and passed me $15.00. “Keep the change, and thank you, that was very quick.”
“It was my pleasure, Ma’am,” I assured her. “Anytime.”
She closed the door behind me, and I tried to recapture that image of her walking to the door, without a care in the world, and as naked as the day she was born. Damn! This topped Emerald Lane by far!
* * *
After a couple of months of occasional deliveries, I didn’t get to see Marcia naked again, but I swear Harold never wore a stitch of clothing.
On my latest delivery, I noticed that Marcy was wearing the same robe as every other time.
After she paid me, I hesitated before leaving.
“Yes Daniel? Is there something wrong with the check?”
“Oh no, ma’am. I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”
I saw her face light up, a glitter in her eye. “Oh really? I wondered if you’d get around to it.”
“Ma’am – are you and Mr. Reynolds nudists?” I asked.
She smiled, “We prefer to use the term naturists.”
I was stuck for a reply. I guess I gaped for a few seconds until her pretty laugh brought me out of it.
“Well, that’s a unique enough response!” she giggled. “Does it bother you?”
“Oh, no ma’am! I mean, well it kind of surprised me at first, but Harold is right, isn’t he? It is your home. I figure you should have the right to do pretty much what you want in your home, as long as it’s not hurting anyone else.”
“You know, Daniel, that’s quite a mature attitude. I only wish that more people saw it your way. Quite a few are uncomfortable around us, even clothed.”
“If you don’t mind my saying so, ma’am, that’s just crazy!”
She smiled. “Yes it is. Thank you, Daniel. She stood before me patiently. “Was there anything else?”
“Uh, no ma’am. Enjoy your pizza!” I took off at a run. It’d be nice to get in a couple more runs before clocking out at 11:00.
* * *
A week later, it was another Reynolds run. 9:10pm. Pretty typical.
I arrived at the door, knocking and waited, wondering.
I didn’t need to wonder long. Marcy Reynolds answered the door, saw it was me, and invited me in. She walked to her purse completely naked, and I had the first chance to really look at her. She was very pretty. Slender from behind, with nice curves on her hips and a pretty butt that was exciting to watch as each step put it through its moves.
She leaned over and wrote me a check, and I just stared at her body. Then she stood, walked to me, and handed me the check. I tried to keep my eyes locked on hers.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said softly, smiling for me.
“About what?” I asked.
“You’re expected to look. Just don’t stare too long.”
I let my eyes slowly run up and down her body, coming back to her pretty face.
“You don’t mind, do you? If Harold and I don’t go through the pretense of dressing for you?”
“No ma’am!” I eagerly agreed, “Not at all. Not at all.”
She had a beautiful smile. She reached out and put her hand on my arm, “You make a girl feel young, Daniel. Thank you.”
It was an uncomfortable ride back to the store. I’d have to start wearing loose pants if I continued delivering to the Reynolds.
* * *
After that night our relationship changed. Nearly every week, the Reynolds would order a pizza, and they’d be completely naked when I arrived. I was invariably invited in while they took the delivery, and I slowly grew used to seeing the attractive Mrs. Reynolds in the buff. It didn’t change the fact that she was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
I still couldn’t help but look her over every time, and she caught me every time, smiling. And every damn time I blushed like a little kid.
While I waited, I’d usually take the opportunity to ask a question or two, that I’d been thinking about during the week. They seemed to get a kick out of answering.
Me: How long have you been naturists? Harold: I was born naked boy, where’s your brains? Marcy: Since I met Harold, 21 years ago. Me: What was he, a babysitter? Harold: Nobody likes a smartass! (But it did make him smile.)
Me: Are there many other naturists around here? Marcy: There are quite a few. We have several friends in the area, and there are at least two ‘clubs’ within an hour of here. Harold: We’re not into the ‘private clubs’ mind you. Just the landed ones. Marcy: And we’re not so much into finding other naked people, we just abhor being clothed.
Me: You mentioned landed clubs? What’s that? Harold: Land? Property? Real-estate? Marcy: It’s a club with property. Usually have a pool, hot-tub, a clubhouse, barbecues, and events for crowds. You pay a membership, and most everybody is naked. It’s like a private naturist resort. Harold: That’s what I said, isn’t it? Property?
Me: Uh, are you like, swingers? Harold: Do we look like swingers? Marcy: Swinging is about the sex. Nudism is about being unclothed. It has almost nothing to do with sex. It’s about comfort and freedom and relaxation. Harold: Answer me, boy. Do we look like swingers? Me: Uh, no? Harold: Damn straight.
Me: I can’t get over the sex thing. If you’ll excuse me, I have to say I’d want to be with Mrs. Reynolds all the time. Harold: You’re with her now, aren’t you? Marcy: Don’t tease the boy, Harold. Harold: You’re the one teasing him. Marcy: When you’re naked often enough and long enough, it becomes less about the person on the outside, and more about the person on the inside. Me: (Grinning) I guess that explains Mr. Reynolds. Harold: Nobody likes a smartass, boy!
Me: Is it common for Naturists to shave down there? Harold: They never used to. It’s just a kid’s fad. Won’t last. Marcy: Many of us do. I’ve had a treatment to remove much unwanted hair, and it’s becoming more and more common. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with. Harold: Men doing it! It’s just showing off, if you ask me.
Me: I’d be scared to death of getting hard all the time. Harold: You get over it. If it happens, don’t advertise it, relax, you’ll be ok. Marcy: It happens. Nearly all the men we know would simply roll over on the beach, or put a towel over themselves if in public. If it happens in your own home, or in a private setting, what’s there to worry about? Me: Easy for you to say. Who would know if you got excited? Harold: Are you being a smart ass boy? Trust me you’d know. Marcy: I believe he was referring to me, Harold. If it happens just relax. Practice good manners, cover up if you’re in public, and understand, that over time, it’s less and less likely to happen.
* * *
One night, about six months after that first delivery, the girl taking the calls said I had a personal delivery, but they wanted me to call first. It was already past 10:00pm.
I called the Reynolds’ number, and Harold answered.
“Say Daniel, I know it’s late, but could you do us a huge favor?”
“Certainly, sir, if I can.”
“Could you make a stop at the Walgreen’s there, and get me a damn corkscrew? We seem to have lost ours. If you could pick up a six-pack of Diet Coke, I know Marcy would appreciate it. I hate to ask, but we’re entertaining guests from out of town. If it’s too much trouble, just let me know.” He sounded a bit concerned I’d shoot him down.
“It’s no problem sir. I was about to check-out anyway, so I won’t be holding up any other deliveries.” I told him.
“Just an excuse to look at my woman, I imagine,” he said, but I could hear the smile in his voice.
“But of course, sir? Can you blame me?”
“Nobody likes a smartass, boy,” he reminded me.
“Yes sir, so I understand. I should be there in around 30 minutes.”
It was an order for two pizzas, and I checked out while waiting. A take-home of $56 dollars, not including my salary. A good night. With the pizzas in my hot-bag, I ran into Walgreen’s and got the required items.
I was at the door in 22 minutes. A damned good run, including the Walgreen’s stop.
Harold met me at the door. He blocked me from coming in for a second. “Her cousin and her cousin’s kid are here. Just so you know. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“I don’t mind. It’s your house, sir.”
“Thanks. And thanks for getting the stuff at the store. I really wouldn’t have asked normally.” He said, opening the door for me.
“Sir. Anytime you’d like me to get something for you, and it’s not too busy, just let me know. I don’t mind. I imagine you must know that you’re not just a regular customer by now. I don’t tend to linger in my normal customer’s homes.”
“She is a looker,” he smiled.
I laughed. “Yes she is, but it’s more than that. I’m just a little bit fascinated I guess, about the whole lifestyle thing. And I enjoy your company immensely.”
I looked into the room and almost dropped everything. Marcy’s cousin could have been her twin sister except for very long blond hair, that at the moment had me thinking of Lady Godiva, the end of her hair playing peek-a-boo with her bare nipples.
The ‘kid’ was a naked girl around my age, a stunning example of what Mrs. Reynolds must have looked like 15 years earlier. It was a little more than my artificially calm demeanor could stand. I was knocked speechless.
“Daniel, thanks so much for everything,” Mrs. Reynolds said, coming over and taking me by the arm. “Harold said he thought you might be off for the night, would you care to stay and visit a while?”
I couldn’t breathe, never mind talk. I could see the laughter in Mrs. Reynolds’ eyes. “It’s Ok,” she said softly. “We won’t bite. Please stay.”
I finally managed to utter a few syllables. “Thank you, ma’am. I’d like to stay a short while if you don’t mind.”
Harold was standing in my shadow. “C’mon in. Why don’t you get comfortable?”
I slowly unbuttoned my shirt, still in shock. My brain was in vapor-lock.
“Daniel is a dear friend of ours who’s been curious about the lifestyle for a while. I don’t believe he’s ever indulged around others before.” Marcy explained to her cousin.
I removed my shoes and socks, and after some debate, removed my pants as well.
“Daniel, this is my cousin Brenda, and her daughter Alexis, who is attending… where are you going, dear?”
“State. In the fall.”
I stood there by the door, in my briefs, my hands crossed in front of me.
“No need to be shy, Danny,” Brenda said, “You can remove those.”
“I don’t think I should,” I said embarrassed.
Marcy laughed. “Isn’t he darling? It’s Ok, dear. An erection isn’t going to scare us. To be honest, I’d be a little disappointed if you didn’t have one. It’s perfectly natural.”
I got up the nerve to remove the last article of clothing, and walked into the room, looking for an available seat.
“Goodness!” Marcy said, and I’m sure I blushed three different shades of red.
“Oh! That would have been a BIG disappointment to miss,” Brenda said.
Alexis scooted over on the couch, closer to her mother, and patted the small space next to her. “You can sit by me, Dan.”
Mrs. Reynolds chuckled. “I think it best if you sit over here, young man. That might be a little too much stimulation over there, and we just shampooed the rugs.” She indicated the space beside her on the loveseat.
“Ma’am, I think if we’re worried about over-stimulation, it might be best if I sat as far away from you as possible,” I warned her.
She blushed for the first time that I’d known her. “Silly boy, you’re such a sweet little liar. Have a seat.”
Harold harrumphed. “The lad’s never lied once to us, and I doubt he’s starting now.”
I don’t know why we went through the seating rigmarole. Within seconds Harold was breaking out the pizza. “It’s still hot; I’d rather eat it fresh, than reheat it.”
We sat around their kitchen table, and had pizza and wine. They had no problem letting Alexis and I drink. It felt a little weird; the stickiness of the vinyl under my legs, and it was distracting to see all the breasts around the table.
All the women were rather smallish upstairs, no more than a B-cup, but it appeared to keep them firmer than I might have expected. I found myself looking at the difference in their breasts more and more often.
Alexis, next to me gave me a gentle kick. I looked up to see what was up. She smiled, “It’s ok to look but it’s not polite to stare,” she said softly.
I looked around in horror, caught out, only to find a sea of smiling faces.
“He does make you feel young, doesn’t he,” I heard Brenda say to her cousin.
I stayed for over an hour, and really enjoyed myself, but knew I had to get out before too long. My parents would be wondering, and I did have classes in the morning.
When I finally had to excuse myself, everybody stood, and I found myself receiving hugs and a kiss on the cheek from all of the women. I was still very embarrassed; my erection had never gone down the whole time I was there, although I’d tried to cover it whenever possible.
Brenda shocked the daylights out of me when she patted my erection. “You might want to take care of that before too long. That can’t be healthy.”
Mrs. Reynolds almost had an aneurism. “For goodness sake, Brenda! He’s just a boy.”
“He’s more man than I’ve seen in over eight months now,” she said. “Hell who am I kidding? He’s more man than I’ve ever had.”
I left in a state of complete and utter confusion. But I knew that I had really had a good time, and would do it again on a moment’s notice.
* * *
It was two weeks before they called again, and life seemed back to normal. I did stay and chat a while, and Harold even asked if I’d like to visit a while, but I was still on the clock. Under their grilling I admitted that I had a very good time.
“Alexis is quite a pretty girl,” Mrs. Reynolds said.
“Yes she is. I imagine if she’s lucky she’ll grow up to be the spitting image of you.”
Marcy, blushed for the second time I knew her, and even Harold chuckled at that one.
* * *
It was a few weeks later, and I’d gotten another late delivery call. A couple of friends and I had been talking about our stranger deliveries, and I found myself holding back about the Reynolds. I wasn’t even sure why. Derek and I had been working there the longest, and we both had some pretty good stories, but this one was different. It wasn’t a story. It was part of my life.
Whenever the call came in after 10:00pm, I typically tried to check-out before leaving, since the last one was off the books anyway, and I could hang out and chat a bit. It seemed like at least half the deliveries were getting later and later, and I wasn’t complaining.
Of course, the Reynolds knew whenever I was off the clock. All the drivers had to wear company shirts, and those stayed at work. It was the duty of the store openers and closers to make sure they got washed and hung up. When I showed up in my own shirts, they knew I could stay a bit.
Mrs. Reynolds greeted me at the door, taking the pizza and heading to the back of the house. “Come on in, Daniel. I hope you can stay a while,” she said, walking into the kitchen.
She turned at the door. “Can I get you a drink, maybe a glass of wine, or a beer?”
“Thank you, ma’am. Are you having anything?”
She laughed. “Always the gentleman. I have an open Pinot Noir, if you’d like a glass.”
I didn’t know a Pinot Noir from Pinocchio, but I accepted gratefully.
She returned with a glass in each hand. When she saw me still standing in the entrance, she pouted.
“Daniel, there’s something you should know. We’re different, Harold and I, and we know it. When we meet with other Naturists, it’s like being with our own. It’s Us and Them. We look at the ‘textiles’ and just don’t understand how they can go on the way they are.”
She gave me a smile, “When you stand there, completely dressed, it almost makes me sad. I know you’re more like us. You’re more accepting, and you’re comfortable around us and others. But as long as you’re dressed, it’s like you’re on the other side of the line. Can’t you just get comfortable and relax when you’re here.”
I carefully removed my shirt. “I’d like that, ma’am, but I’m still not sure if I should. When the time is right, or not. I guess I’m not sure what’s appropriate.” I continued with my shoes and socks, setting them by the door.
“Then let me clear that up for you. You are our friend. I meant what I said to Brenda. You are welcome here anytime. And anytime you’re here for even 5 minutes, you’re welcome to relax with us.” She placed the wine cups down at each end of the couch, and waited.
I stood there, still uncomfortable removing the last item.
She laughed, and walked to me. “Daniel. Dear Daniel. Don’t be ashamed. It’s the most sincere compliment you could give an old broken down lady like me.”
“Mrs. Reynolds! Please, you’re hardly old OR broken down. You are the sexiest woman I know.”
I watched in complete shock, as she dropped to her knees, reached up and pulled my underwear down, carefully pulling it over my hardness, and lowering it all the way to my ankles.
“I find that hard to believe,” she said. “A college full of young ladies and you think that I’m the sexiest.”
I was almost shaking, looking down at her sitting back on her heels, looking up at me from just in front of my hard cock.
“Me too, I guess. Alexis is as pretty as any girl I go to school with, and yet, I hardly noticed her with you here. I’m sorry. You just drive me crazy. It’s nothing you do, it’s just you.”
She rose up and I watched her hand slowly reach out for me, her open palm gently stroking my staff, softly. “I’m afraid this is going to stand between us and you really relaxing. Let’s get this out of the way, so your mind isn’t so one-track.”
I held my breaths as her lips approached and gave me a kiss just below the swollen head. Her tongue ran along my underside, and she pulled at my cock, which had been pointing directly at the ceiling, and pointed me more toward her, allowing her mouth to slowly engulf me.
I grabbed the table beside me before my legs gave out. “Oh Marcy,” I gasped.
Her hand stroked me in tandem with her mouth, reaching beyond her moist lips. It was all too much, too soon.
“I’m going to come, Mrs. Reynolds,” I gasped, and she pulled her mouth off of me, her hand stroking me briskly.
“Come for me Daniel,” she whispered, and she didn’t have to ask twice. I grunted, coming hard, shooting my juices all around her upper chest and neck. When I finally stopped spasming in her hand, she leaned forward and kissed the slick, ultra-sensitive head lightly, a small lick so intense I almost pulled out of her hand.
She stood, and pointed me at the couch. “Have a seat, darling boy.”
She disappeared into the back of the house, and appeared a couple of minutes later, cleaned up. She also had a moist hand-towel which she used to wipe me down.
“I don’t know what to say, Mrs. Reynolds,” I stammered, my mind unable to grasp what had just occurred.
“I believe it would be appropriate to call me Marcy, now, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Marcy, thank you.” I had to say it, although I’d rather ignore it. “What about Harold, Marcy?”
“Harold understands. That’s part of why he’s left us alone tonight. I’ve been known to occasionally have other lovers. I believe he’d be happier if I settled down with one. What would you think of that?” she asked, sipping from her glass, as if she was asking if I like the wine or not.
I sat slack-mouthed, not knowing what to say.
She stood. “Daniel, I’m going back to my bedroom now. I’m hoping you will join me. And you’re not hurting Harold by doing this, in many ways you are actually helping.” She didn’t add anything else, just turned and walked away.
And damn me if I wasn’t getting hard again.
I walked into her bedroom for the first time, and she was lying on the bed, a pile of decorative pillows behind her, holding her up. “I thought you said that nudism wasn’t about sex, you saw the inner person, not the outer shell?”
She smiled, and leaned back, beckoning me. “Silly. Just because it’s not ABOUT sex, doesn’t mean we don’t HAVE sex. And if anything, it makes the sex better.”
“And more frequent, I bet.”
She smiled. “Maybe a little. And if the inner person is beautiful is it wrong to appreciate the outer beauty as well?”
I sat at the edge of the bed, shyly touching her, my hand gliding across her leg. “I guess not,” I answered, looking at all her ‘outer shell’ beauty, and enjoying it immensely.
“Appreciate me, Daniel. Appreciate me to your heart’s content. Appreciate me in every way you’ve imagined in the last several months. I need to be appreciated.”
I leaned over her, drawn to her breasts, the very ones which had been the center of so many of my dreams. I touched them, gently, slowly filling my hands, feeling her, holding her, daring to lower my lips and see what she felt like in my mouth. I sucked on her nipple, drawing my teeth gently across it, holding it while my tongue flicked across the hardened tip.
I had to have both, and I moved to the further one, leaning across her. My tongue licked her, moistening the whole area, before taking her in my mouth once again. My other hand held her abandoned nipple and teased it, rolling it squeezing it, with just the three fingertips, until both were equally hard.
Mrs. Reynolds sighed, stroking my head and gently encouraging me. As my attention slowly changed, I was sliding down her body, feeling the curve of her ribs before stretching across the expanse of her soft belly. My hands wandered freely, all over, just feeling her skin, growing to know her.
I continued south, moving between her legs, the smell of her stronger, incredibly intoxicating. She was carefully trimmed, and I looked at her, studying her, seeing the little bit that was hidden during all the times I’d seen her naked. I touched her, to see how she felt, how she reacted, and then leaned down to try some of the things I’d heard about, read about, and even looked at, without ever having the chance to really understand.
I tasted her, her fragrance flooding my senses. I touched her, feeling her wetness, sliding a finger inside of her to see what it felt like. I stroked the edges of her entrance, feeling their puffiness, and pushing them aside to see more of what made her different from me. I found myself licking her, repeatedly, every sound she made, every slight moan a scream of encouragement. I wanted to pleasure her as she’d done for me.
I don’t know how long I was at it, but she pulled me up after a while. “That was wonderful, but I’m getting sensitive. Isn’t there anything else you’d like to do?” Her smile was an invitation to indulge myself beyond my wildest dreams.
I was as hard as possible, and I kneeled between her legs, trying to slide into her, when she reached down and helped, placing the head at her entrance. I pushed inside of her, holding my breath, concentrating on the feel of the penetration. I closed my eyes, and pushed deep.
“Slowly, Daniel. I’m not going anywhere. Take your time.”
I tried to slow down, but the feeling was overwhelming. I pulled out to the very edge and looked down. I wanted to watch myself enter her. See my thick rod slowly disappear. Again, I pushed until I could go no further, and then eased back out.
“You’re amazing,” I told her, as I watched myself drive in and out.
I leaned down, and she spread wider to accommodate me. I braced my arms on each side of her and moved faster, feeling the fire spread through me. She watched me, and I was fascinated with her face and the tiny expressions of change that would dart across them.
She closed her eyes, arching her head back, exposing her long, sleek neck. I leaned down and kissed her neck, my tongue darting out and touching her, running the length of her jaw line, smelling her hair, nibbling an ear lobe kissing her cheek, and slowly moving my lips over hers until I was kissing her for the first time.
She accepted and returned my kiss, her tongue reaching out to my lips and teeth, brushing against me, sliding beside my own tongue. My lips rested, just barely touching hers, my breath coming faster and faster, as my movements speeded up. She was pushing back against me, and I felt the desire to finish nearly overwhelming me.
“I have to stop, Marcy,” I gasped trying to stop, holding myself still inside of her, my cock throbbing, warning me I may have waited too long.
“Don’t stop Daniel, finish inside me,” she said softly.
I groaned, wanting to delay it, to continue thrusting into her, but as soon as I moved, I knew it was too late. I roared as I pushed. I was already completely inside her, but I felt like my entire body was going to pulse out of my hardness as I pushed and pushed, emptying my soul into her.
She held me, as I gasped and trembled. “Thank you Daniel,” she said softly.
I felt myself still mostly hard inside her, and I closed my eyes, slowly moving, feeling myself hardening, my movements slowly lengthening, my heart slowing just a bit from the hummingbird pace it had assumed. She still felt wonderful, looser, wetter, but incredible. I felt myself getting longer, harder, thicker.
“Do we have to stop now, Marcy?” I asked.
“No Daniel, we can take as long as you’d like. We can even try a few different things that I believe you may enjoy just as much.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I assured her. “This is the greatest feeling in the world.”
* * *
For almost another year, I continued to deliver pizzas to the Reynolds, and about once a month, Marcy and I would extend my understanding of love and sex. Harold always made himself absent at those times, and though I felt odd around him at first, I soon got over it, and loved the evenings spent there, visiting and occasionally meeting friends.
I went away to college in the Northeast for my junior year, and we corresponded a few times, but school and my first real girlfriend made me grow lax. When I returned home for the summer, I stopped by the Reynolds house to find new homeowners there.
I never had a chance to see Marcy or Harold Reynolds again. I wish I could have had one last chance to really thank her, and Harold. They changed my life for the better.
Mrs. Reynolds, if you’re out there, I thought you’d like to know I’m writing this in the nude. And thanks for everything.