tagRomanceZinfandel With Pizza

Zinfandel With Pizza

byTexan©

She wasn't wearing much of anything. Her nightgown was virtually transparent. Silhouetted by the light behind her, I could see every contour of her sensual body. I stood at the door, holding the pizza she had ordered, not wanting to say a word for fear the vision in front of me would disappear. The next few seconds passed like hours, but even so, it was over too soon.

She stood about five and one half feet tall. Her hair was dark brown, full and fell to a few inches below her shoulders. Her face and body were only outlines formed by the light from a lamp across the room, but those outlines created the silhouette of a perfectly formed female body. Her rounded shoulders flowed symmetrically downward to a very narrow waist. Still downward from her waist, her shape flared gently to hips, which mirrored, in width, her shoulders.

As the light was at her back, it must have been on my face. I'm certain she watched as my eyes traveled the length of her body.

Finally, she asked; "How much is it?”

As though awakening from a trance, I told her the price, as I listened to my voice crack.

She said, "Come in." as she turned and walked across the room to a small desk, upon which sat the lamp and her checkbook.

As I watched the sensual grace of her movements, it was as though she were totally naked. Her nightgown created the image that she was walking about, wrapped only in a thin mist. Somewhere in the room was a stereo from which came soft music; and with it, the gentle aroma of perfume worked to charm the senses. As she leaned over the desk to write the check, I could see her face in the light. She was beautiful. Young, around twenty-five, I would guess with dark eyes, and a soft smooth complexion. In this light, I could now see her breasts. They were fairly large, though obviously firm; and her nipples were erect. Could it be possible that she was actually unaware of the vision she presented to me.

I will be thirty-four on my next birthday, and I don't normally deliver pizza. I own the pizza shop, along with seven others; and had this not been the last delivery of the night, one of those kids that works for me would have been standing there in my place.

As she tore the completed check from it's binding, she said; "I don't think I've ever seen a pizza delivery boy who drove a BMW."

She walked across the room toward me. I tried to maintain some since of coherence to my thoughts, although my eyes were glued to her body. As she handed me the check, I explained to her that I was not a delivery boy, but that I would be happy to make her deliveries personally, anytime. She laughed softly but sincerely, there was a certain amount of veiled sadness in her voice. Realizing that if I stood there gazing at her any longer I would appear foolish, I thanked her for her patronage, and turned to leave.

Expecting to be alone, standing outside her door in less than a second, sensory shock raced through my system as I heard her voice and felt the gentle touch of her hand on my arm.

"Wait.” She said. “Why don't you stay and join me in a slice of YOUR pizza. I'll pour you a glass of wine."

I turned back around to face her as she spoke. There was gentle sense of pleading in her voice.

As though embarrassed by her sudden boldness, she asked; "Does white zinfandel go well with pepperoni?” as she walked toward the kitchen.

I didn't answer; I just stood there and watched her walk. She was still naked, wrapped only in a mist.

Not knowing exactly what to do, I walked over to the desk and picked up the pizza. I saw her glass of wine on the coffee table in front of the sofa, so I stepped over near the sofa and stood there for an eternal moment.

In an instant she returned from the kitchen with a glass of wine for me, and two small plates and several paper napkins. She sat down on the sofa, and with her eyes, motioned for me to join her. Suddenly I realized that I had said nothing, since she asked me to stay.

I asked; "Your name is Sherri?” She seemed surprised.

"It's on your pizza order." I said.

"Oh. Your name is?" she asked.

"Mark"; I responded.

For several minutes we sat in silence, going though the motions of eating pizza. I have always believed that my shops made the best pizza in Dallas, but at that moment it could have been cardboard and I would not have noticed. She was absolutely beautiful. Sitting there, with the light now on her face and the front of her body, her nightgown was less transparent, but only a little less. Her hair, pulled back on one side, framed her beautiful face on the other. Her breasts were really quite large, but without even a trace of sag. Her nipples were dark, about the size of a quarter, and constantly erect. She was sitting with her legs together, but I could clearly see the darkness of her pubic hair. Her legs were perfect. It is hard to describe perfection, for it is a standard unto itself.

Those who believe that pizza is best with beer should try it with wine and a beautiful woman. The wine was beginning to warm my mind, and with the warmth came conversation. We learned of each other; all those things that two people must know to officially be called friends. We laughed some and pretended that the sexual tension between us did not exist. She knew that I could see her nude body, she didn't try to hide herself from me. I began to feel that I was not acting like a man was supposed to act, but I was enjoying Sherri's companionship so much that I was almost afraid to spoil the moment with sex.

On my third glass of wine, with the pizza gone, I gathered my courage and asked; "Are you aware of how beautiful you are in that gown?"

She paused for a moment, but still smiling, she said; "I was beginning to think you hadn't noticed."

I asked; "Do you often answer the door dressed like that?"

She responded; "No, never; until tonight. I had a few glasses of wine before you got here. I was so bored that I was about to cry. My boyfriend and I broke up a month ago, and I haven't been out of this house since, except to work and to the grocery store. I'm sure that I was just as shocked as you were when I answered the door and there stood a man instead of a pizza delivery boy. I was just going to shock the boy a little to alleviate the boredom. You were so nice, and the way you looked at me, made me feel so good. I can't believe that I asked you to stay. It was an impulse, and I'm not usually very impulsive".

She still smiled, but there was a hint of worry in her eyes.

She said; "I hope I haven't offended you. Should I put something else on?"

I replied; "Only if you want me to leave. You are absolutely beautiful."

Her smile warmed. I'm not sure if it was the wine or the knowledge that I was enjoying her near nakedness. I was now more comfortable knowing that she was fully conscious of her appearance and took pleasure in it.

I told her; "I hope that you will call for me personally when you want pizza delivered."

She said; "If you will look at me the way you are looking at me now, I'll try to live on pizza."

We were sitting only two feet apart. I set my wineglass on the coffee table and leaned toward her as I looked into her eyes. Sherri placed her left hand on my cheek and met my lips with hers. The first kiss was soft and gentle; it was as though we both realized that there was no hurry. We had both accepted with our eyes what was about to happen, and neither of us wanted it to happen too quickly.

I told her that until now I had felt some embarrassment when I looked at her body, as though I were stealing glances. I asked her to stand up and let me really look at her. She smiled, hesitated for only an instant to add some since of respectability to the act, then stood tall and proud in front of me. Now, I had no reason to pretend that I wasn't looking at her body and enjoying every second of it. The filmy gown only acted to soften the curves. I could see every feminine detail of this lovely young woman.

I asked her; "What do you call your...breasts. Do you call them breasts, or tits, or boobs...?"

She interrupted me, smiling; "Anything you want to call them. Sometimes I think of them as breasts, sometimes they're tits. Just don't call them knockers or jugs, or anything that sounds like it came from a cheap novel."

"How do you refer to your...rear?", I asked.

She cocked her head and rolled her eyes; "You mean my derriere, my tush, my ass."

"Ok, one more.” I said; "What do you call your...uh...”

"My pussy." She continued. "You can call it anything you want."

As if to make her point, she reached down, took the hem of her gown in her hands and pulled it over her head and off. What stood before me was the same beautiful body, but without even that mist of a gown to cover it. She was gorgeous. She stood there for a moment, and then she stepped back around the coffee table, sat down beside me, and took a drink from her wineglass. She seemed to savor both the taste of the wine and her nakedness.

As she set the glass down, I reached for her face with both hands. I gently took her face in my hands and pulled her lips to mine. This time the kiss was more passionate. Our tongues met, tentatively at first, then more aggressively. The taste was sweet. My eyes closed, with involuntary abandon. Her hand rested on my leg and under it my flesh burned with anticipation. I slowly brought my right hand down the side of her face to her neck. The skin was soft. With my left hand still holding her face, my right hand moved slowly downward, across the front of Sherri's shoulder. I felt the swell of her upper breast as she inhaled deeply. Our lips never separated as I held her left breast in my hand.

Gently I caressed the flesh around the nipple for two, maybe three minutes. Time stood still. Finally, almost accidentally, my thumb found her hard nipple. Like the tip of a small volcano, with its rough sides and flat top, her nipple rose from the softness of her breast. As I cupped her large breast in my hand, I gently rubbed her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. The tempo of her breathing increased, as did my own.

Her left hand moved to my back, as her right hand moved to the base of my neck at my open collar. She began to rub my chest as far as the two open buttons would allow her; then she began to unbutton the rest of my shirt. Her hand moved across my chest leaving a trail of warmth in its path. When she touched my nipples, I had to fight the impulse to jump. She had no idea that in my body there are two special nerves that run from each nipple to a point about six inches below my waist.

By now, I was holding and caressing both of her breasts with both of my hands. There is no other feel and texture on earth exactly like that of a woman's breasts.

Slowly Sherri pulled her mouth away from mine. In my mind there was no fear that this pleasure was about to end. I sensed that her enjoyment was equal to mine. She looked into my eyes; looking for the sincere acceptance she needed. It was there.

She took my hands in both of hers and stood up, pulling me up with her. Releasing only one of my hands; she turned, walked around the coffee table, across the living room, and through the doorway into her bedroom; leading me obediently behind.

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