Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With a Delivery Man (2 page)

Jenny’s mind had been going around in
circles for a whole week, and she had begun to think that Tuesday was never
going to arrive – that somehow, the goddess of dubious enterprises would
move the week from Monday to Wednesday, bypassing Tuesday altogether, leaving
her with a head full of neuroses she thought she’d long since left behind.
Cross at how insecure and uncertain her one act of indiscretion had made her,
Jenny impatiently watched the hands of her desk clock crawl towards one. She
wasn’t sure if she should be excited, embarrassed, or simply dismissive about
the imminent arrival of her film delivery man.
If he doesn’t mention last week, then neither will I.

In spite of the months of coffee chats
they’d had, they had never discussed anything personal; just films (art house
for her, action adventure for him), TV (dramas and documentaries for her,
reality shows for him), work (too much of it for both of them), and general
chit-chat about traffic, the weather, and money (or lack thereof). He was
undeniably a friend – she had always thought of him that way – but
not a friend beyond the moment of their meetings. Not a friend to hang out with
on a Friday night. John was her companionable courier; a fantasy screw. Novelty
wank fodder. Yet, after last week, when John had delivered so much more than a
handful of DVD boxes, Jenny found that she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The fact they even got on, now that Jenny
took the time to stop and think about it, was against the odds. They were from
opposite sides of life; and if she was honest, Jenny knew that if she hadn’t
had those regular delivery times to get to know him, judging on appearances
alone, hot or not, John would be the sort of person she’d avoid.

Over the past few days, Jenny had obsessed
over the facts:

1.
I’m
vastly over-educated; John has no education at all.

2.
I
always read the book before the film; John doesn’t read unless someone puts a
gun to his head.

3.
I’m
your average, nothing-special thirty-something with a past she can’t handle;
John is a ruggedly handsome thirty-something, well out of my league.

4.
I
hate tattoos and hairy chests; John has tattoos and a hairy chest…

That was the point which consistently derailed
Jenny from rational thought:
But what a
chest!
Whenever she remembered the sweep of his downy torso against her
fingertips, an unregulated frisson of physical want ricocheted down her spine
and sent prickles across her neck, drowning out her analysis and common sense.

She hadn’t felt this off-kilter since Jo.
Jenny pressed her eyes shut.
Should I
tell John about Jo?
She shook her head. This was ridiculous. She had no
means of contacting John, no idea if he was single, and no way of knowing
whether their short-lived encounter was a one-off, or the start of something
erotically interesting.

Restless, Jenny left her desk and headed to
the bathroom to look in the mirror.
Do
those blue eyes really belong to a woman hoping to get fucked senseless by a
man she hardly knows?
Persuading her unruly brown curls into a semblance of
order, she inhaled a long, slow breath of air. It frightened her just how badly
she wished for a repeat performance. If John hadn’t decided to pass his round onto
someone else, he’d arrive soon.

Jenny considered the new underwear she’d
bought over the weekend.
Am I making a
fool of myself for thinking he’ll even see it?

Nerves thudded in her chest, butterflies
fluttered in her stomach, and she was all too aware that her pussy was treacherously
damp as at last, full of apprehension, Jenny witnessed a blue box-van draw up
outside her small home. She answered the loud double knock at the front door.

Before she even had time to speak, John was
inside, his hand towing Jenny into her living room. He didn’t say anything; but
then, he didn’t need to. One glance at his face and she knew that the doubts
she’d let build up over the past seven days were irrelevant – a complete
waste of the energy she could have been saving for more interesting pursuits.

The uncooperative scruples at the back of
Jenny’s head asked,
Shouldn’t you be protesting
at his assumption that you’d be up for it?
She ignored them. Anyway, John’s
chocolate eyes exuded pure sex, and his rough fingers were already searching
for her nipples under her thin white shirt. It took a few seconds for Jenny’s
brain to catch up with events, but as a fervent mouth came to meet hers, his
stubble scratching her face, Jenny finally registered the reality of it all.
Returning John’s savage kisses with the fury she felt at his making her
confront her demons, she clawed her hands up inside his faded blue polo shirt
and revisited the wonderful texture of his chest.

As if it were a supreme effort to break
contact, John pulled his lips away from Jenny so he could focus on undoing the
fastenings of her blouse. Taking advantage of the lull in kisses, Jenny wrenched
his shirt upwards – if hers was going to be taken off, then so was his.
John grinned at her, and with mutual understanding, they each removed their own
tops.

She wished she had a camera. Something to
record the expression on her courier’s face. The audible gasp he made as his
eyes roamed with hungry appreciation over her new red silk bra was a sound she
would never ever forget. ‘Christ, girl, you look…bloody hell.’ He skirted a
digit lingeringly down the line of her cleavage. ‘Let me see if you have
anything else interesting under there.’ Returning to his previous haste, John
made short work of stripping off her trousers before stepping back to admire her
matching scarlet knickers, uttering a gravelly, ‘Oh hell yes.’

Jenny’s confidence swelled under his gaze,
a gaze filled with sexual intent. She had no desire to delay that intent any
longer. Seizing his hands, she pushed them against her breasts; John’s eyes blazed
as he popped them from their satin holster. Caressing the tender flesh with
firm fingers, his mouth came to her tits, nipping and biting at them with eager
lips. Closing her eyes, Jenny
savored
every touch as John worked across her chest with dedicated reverence,
igniting each
millimeter
of her being.

Very much aware of the growing stickiness
between her legs, Jenny smoothed a palm over John’s crotch, satisfied to find a
solid dick desperate to be sprung from its fabric prison. Scrabbling at his
belt, Jenny managed to open it with only a short struggle this time, before
John helped her by tugging both his combat trousers and boxers to his ankles, allowing
her to enjoy the sight of his handsomely rigid cock. Falling to her knees, she
worshipped him with her tongue, her mouth, and her lips, grateful to be able to
investigate the shaft properly after so brief a meeting with it last week.

‘You are such a dirty girl,’ John murmured
from above her, ‘so fuckin’ wanton. If you could see how you look…oh hell,
Jen.’

Rather than repulsing her, his crude words
turned Jenny on even more as she fervently milked his length. She couldn’t have
stopped, not for anything. An abrupt grip at her shoulders and a yanking of her
tangled hair told her how close John was to coming. Jenny kept going. After a
lifetime of refusing to go all the way with a blowjob, she needed to carry on. Needed
to finish what she had started the previous Tuesday. Jenny was surprised by how
badly she wanted his cream to explode in her mouth. Then it did just that,
spurting with a sweet, salty thickness that cloyed luxuriously to her throat as
Jenny swallowed greedily.
Fuck, it tastes
good!

When every drop had been spent, Jenny moved
away, licking the stray spots of cum from the corners of her mouth. John
crouched so that his face was level with hers. Staring into her wide sapphire
eyes, he whispered, ‘Thank you.’ It was such a simple thing to say, but the
hushed way in which he said it told Jenny everything she needed to know.

John eased her gently onto her back and
dragged her damp knickers to her ankles. With the application of an expert
finger, he rubbed her clit with deftly repetitive strokes until she came in a
flourish of moans and sighs, squirming against her old beige carpet.

He stood then, hurriedly putting his
clothes back on as Jenny raised herself, slightly dazed, into a sitting
position.

‘I have to go,’ John smiled, his eyes
reassuring her that he’d enjoyed himself as much as she had.

‘I know,’ Jenny smiled back to tell him that
it was okay, that she understood he couldn’t stay. ‘Don’t forget the DVDs
you’ve got to take back.’ She gestured to a pile of films stuffed between the
clutter of folders and paperwork on the sideboard.

Slipping his jacket over his shoulders,
John bent down and kissed Jenny’s forehead. ‘Can I come back and see you like
this next week?’

She nodded, trying to keep the delight from
showing too obviously on her face.

‘Good.’ Her delivery man rose to his feet. ‘I
have a fantasy I’d like to share with you. Would that be all right?’

Intrigued, Jenny inclined her head,
immediately wondering what it might be.

He leaned forward, his warm breath making
her pussy twitch all over again. ‘And I want to hear all about yours. I’m sure
a dirty girl like you has plenty of secret desires tucked away in that pretty
head.’

Without waiting for a reply he left,
striding purposefully towards his van as Jenny turned to gather her scattered clothing.

Why
the hell was I so worried?

She turned on the shower and stepped in. As
the water thundered into her hair, washing the traces of sex from her flushed
flesh, Jenny realized she still knew virtually nothing about John. But then,
she hadn’t said anything to him about her life either. Somehow, it didn’t seem
to matter. Well, not as much as wondering what his fantasy could involve…

I
wonder if, when next Tuesday comes around again, I’ll actually have the guts to
tell him about
my
idea of sexual heaven.

Tuesday

Fantasy

Perhaps he’s going to tell me he’s into sucking toes or painting his
fingernails or something. Maybe he likes bondage? Could he want to tie me up? Perhaps
he wants me to tie him up, and strap those strong arms behind his back so he’s helpless…
mmm… Does he have visions of hitting my backside with something? A whip, a
cane, a paddle? Maybe he wants to shag me while I wear a blindfold? Maybe he’s
into rubber, or he might want to have me up the arse, or…

Jenny’s obsession with trying to work out
John’s fantasy had taken up her entire week. It didn’t matter where she was or
what she was doing – from the queue in the supermarket to the pub with
her mates to working at her desk, her concentration hadn’t been so much
disturbed as
shattered
by the idea of
what John might be about to share with her. In her mind, her theories as to his
sexual aspirations got more extreme with each passing day.
The idea of him binding me, shafting my arse, peeing on me… oh hell…

The only time she didn’t spend trying to
guess his kinky desires Jenny was wondering if she should share hers with him.
She had no doubt he wanted her to.
But
should I?
She knew it was the ideal opportunity to confess how unusual this
situation was for her, and how closeted she had forced herself to become
– and why. However, she didn’t want to scare him off.
Maybe I’ll just wait and see what he says
first.

Fiddling her hair between her fingers,
Jenny glanced at the clock. She had less than half an hour. Habitually brushing
down her low-cut black shirt, removing some stray hairs that had escaped from
her russet tresses, Jenny sucked her tummy in beneath her faded jeans. Having
managed to resist the temptation to buy yet more new lingerie, she had made
sure she was wearing one of her best sets. For a brief second she considered
putting on a little make-up, but as she’d never worn it before when John was
around, she decided it might be seen as overkill. After all, this wasn’t a
date. It wasn’t really anything. It was just sex.

Retreating to the kitchen, Jenny drank a
glass of water to relieve her fast-drying throat. Glancing at the pile of DVDs
on the counter, Jenny wondered if she should confess to John that she hadn’t
watched them, and that she probably wouldn’t watch the ones he’d be delivering
today. In fact, Jenny hadn’t seen any of the movies John had brought her for
ages, but as she didn’t want him to stop visiting, she hadn’t
cancelled
her
subscription.
I don’t think I’ll tell
him. After all, he has his secrets; why shouldn’t I have mine? Anyway, his ego
would inflate way too much!

At the sound of a van being parked in the
driveway, Jenny flung open the front door, her heart thumping against her
ribcage, her palms dotting with perspiration. Striding quickly from his vehicle
to his customer, John stepped into the narrow hallway. The expression on his
face spoke volumes, reassuring Jenny that this – whatever it was –
wasn’t over yet.

Before either of them had spoken a word
they were rolling on the living room floor, speed being of the essence. Mouths
glued together, their hands, legs, and tongues were a tangled mess, everywhere
at once. Jenny’s psyche swam with a heady mixture of sensations,
fuelled
by the
never-ending surprise at how much lust she felt for her visitor, and how much
desire he seemed to reciprocate.