Delivery Guy, Groupies & The Tranny

All sex acts are between people over the age of 18. The story is entered in the Literotica Winter Holidays Contest. If you enjoyed this please give it a good vote and favor it. Best regards to all. Erectus123

THE DELIVERY GUY, HIS GROUPIES & THE TRANNY

DRIVING IT HOME DURING THE WINTER HOLIDAY

"Driving it home" is an expression. When applied to a sexual act, it refers to the male participant pushing, slamming, or driving his penis into the other participant's orifice, be it male or female. Of course, the expression has different, more grounded nuances. In my case, being a package delivery guy, I bring deliveries to your home and those of many others. I work for an outfit you undoubtedly know, but I'd prefer not to expose my job security by telling you which one. I'm sure you can understand my concern.

I have a two-year junior college business degree. With that degree and $250,000, I could buy the little Rolls Royce. That's another way of saying my degree means shit. Of course, you can't get a job as a grocery clerk or check-out cashier without a diploma, but that tells you the quality of a California Public School Education, nulla. I am not qualified to be a nuclear engineer or a brain surgeon, so I took the third and most obvious alternative, being a delivery guy. I'm Freddy Felso, at your service.

OK, I'm not really a delivery guy. I'm an actor. I'm still enrolled at the Actor's Studio. This gig is just a career break to get enough money to get back to class. Yeah, I know it's been a year and a half, but you can't control all the bowling balls that come down the alley. Sometimes you gotta jump to avoid them. Once I get a few grand ahead, I'll go back to class. At least I'll part-time it. If only for those sexy babes that fill those cold metal chairs. Yeah, they got a thing about keeping the place as cool as a surgeon's workbench. The real horny ones are the gals whose tuition is being paid by some older rich guy. They are hot to trot because they aren't getting plugged in very often at home. And the funny thing is after they spend a few hours sitting on those cold chairs, their vaginas are cold as ice, and at that point, do they welcome a hot dick inside? Yes, they do.

Now this job ain't so bad. It pays OK, $15 to $20 buckaroos an hour on average. You can put in extra hours and run. We get paid for each delivery and sometimes get up to $25 an hour. But I don't live in Los Angeles to kill myself working. A lot of guys drive till their backs give out. Try driving a Chevy van, ugh! The suspension is so bad it could shake your teeth loose, especially with the lousy roads we got here in LaLa land. I drive a Ford Transit. It's an ugly vehicle, but it's comfortable on the sacroiliac. Once the back goes on you, you can apply online for a disability check. Then you are set for life, but a life of pain.

You'd think we get lots of tips? When's the last time you tipped the postman? Sometimes we get tips, but not often. A can of soda or cold water is usually all the tips I take away, but some tips are well worth the employment. I'll get to that perk right away.

What do I look like? Nothing special. I'm 5'10", slender but muscled, with creamy light tanned skin.

Mom was from Calcutta. Dad was a Creole from Louisiana. They worked at the 'Wolfman' Puck's restaurant in Beverly Hills, where Mom ran the rice cooker and added all the special seasonings. Dad was the SeaFood Chief. They seemed to have a good time working together. They retired early and moved down to Bedford, Louisiana, where Dad and his brother run a roadside barbecue joint. Mom still makes the rice, but now it's creole style.

I will say one thing about my delivery job. We are busy all year round, especially with this Covid deal, nowadays everyone shops online. It means extra work and long hours, but that means extra pay. The only time the job gets crazy is around the holiday season. Since I work in Los Angeles, snow and rain are not a hazard. The crazy drivers and the nervous energy that jazzes up the winter holiday season is the worst aspect. More guys quit after New Year than at any other time of the year. This story takes place in the Christmas season of 2019, just months back. I was going about my simple life with no serious involvements, as happy as a bug in a rug, fucking happy, happy fucking.

I don't know if I mentioned my name. It's Freddy Felso, aka Freddy Fucker. That's what they call me down where I pick up the packages. I guess it's my fault. I let it slip that sometimes I get a piece of ass on the route. Don't mention this to anyone. I don't want to get fired cause the fucking is just too good.

You might wonder how I get so much tail. I'm not so pretty, but I do have my way of advertising. Have you noticed, the gals are so horny these days. What do I mean? Well, I should wear a size 32 pair of shorts, but instead, I buy the 30's. They fit nice and tight. If I'm not wearing underwear, you can get a pretty good idea of my 7 ½ inch joystick. I'm only 23, and my hormones are flowing like Niagara Falls. If I see a nice ass or pair of tits on the street, Mr. Happy blows up, and I've got a two-minute boner that will last me till I get the package delivered. The ladies looking for sex are quick to notice my manhood and pull me inside their abode to examine it more closely. The ones who are chaste don't even see it. It's like invisible.

Let me point the perks of this job. Being straight is a significant advantage, lots of single girls and married women are looking for a good stag, or should I say a good shag. They are not shy about offering themselves. They stand half-naked at the doors to their apartments and let their robe slip. "Need a drink, a coffee Freddy, or wanna fuck, the more forthright will ask. If I don't respond quickly enough, "you a fag Freddy?" they will add. As for that department, I have many gay guys on the route who will offer to give me a blow job or a butt fuck, but since I think of myself as pretty straight, I usually demure. If they invite me in and grab my cock, I might let them play a while.

I don't have a problem with gay guys. Most of them are polite and non-violent. We got a big bunch of crazies here in LA. You got to be careful. And you got to always lookup. One of the delivery guys called Sachmo was delivering stuff down on Hill Street. That's a jeweler's business area. He wheels his cart down the back alley, and a piece of a building comes down like an incoming missile. Blotto, he's hamburger!

I do have one vise. A famous transsexual escort is on my route, Mari Bismo. She is Brazilian, but her English is pretty good, and she is a babe. Big tits, big ass, narrow waist, and a huge cock. Not that I want any part of her dick, but her ass is lovely. She can make her ass do things that there is no way a vagina can compete. So yeah, if she is willing, I am ready to spill all my cum inside that curvy ass, although she does insist I wear a condom. She has the magnum ones that fit my thick 7 1/2 inches pretty good. OK, that's all I'm going to offer for disclosure. If anything unexpected occurs, you will be the first to know.

Let me take you through a week of my work schedule, right up to Christmas Eve.

M O N D A Y***************************************

Some guys work seven days a week, but I like to cool it on the weekend, give my back and my dick a chance to rest up. Let's start with the average day. I wake up, shower, shave, and out the door. I have many deliveries, most of the addresses I know but not always the person living there. Oh yeah, I still use a good deodorant and don't apply it only under my arms.

The central office programs my computer, it has organized the deliveries logistically. That's not to waste any time. I see Lou Rodrigues is number one, over on Elm Street. The GPS clues me in on the quickest route. I follow the prompts, drive over, and pull the van to the side. I run in and drop off the package. Sometimes I have to get an electronic signature. Other times, the recipient has signed a release to leave the box outside the door if they are not home.

Before noon I dropped off maybe 24 packages. If I check the computer, I can see exactly how many. Yep, 25 boxes. The next stop is Dwyane Road. That's where the twins live. They are of some eastern European extraction and talk with a gruff accent, but those girls like to play if their Mom is at work. Mr. Happy gets excited, just thinking of them. When I get there, I pull into the empty driveway and trot over to the front door. Olga is waiting there, and she notices the bulge in my shorts, grabs my hand, and pulls me inside. I put the parcel on the table in the hall. Olga is already fondling me.

"Anush," she shouts, "Freddy has arrived, get out here." Before Anush can arrive, Olga has my shorts down to my knees and is sucking my cock like an expert. Anush pulls her away and starts jerking my cock, but Olga chastises her.

"Dummy, he doesn't want to be jerked off. Suck his cock."

Anush takes my dick in her mouth, and Olga grabs her head and moves it back and forth, so she gets the right idea. I'm getting hotter with every suck even though Anush is not as expert as Olga. Her teeth are scraping my cock, and her tight grip on my nut sack with her long nails is distracting, but I say nothing. Here is a tip, never criticize the way a woman sucks your cock. She just might stop. Olga picks up on it and says,

"OK, sis, let me finish him off, watch."

With ten or twelve well-placed strokes between her lips, I close my eyes and shoot my cum. Olga does her best to swallow. When she releases me, she grabs her sister and kisses her, shooting a cum waddle into Anush's mouth. Olga holds her sister playfully, puts her hand over her mouth, and says,

"Swallow it, you dummy. It tastes like the sauce Mom puts on the potatoes."

"Please excuse her, Freddy. She is just learning."

"Oh, she's doing fine, I reach out to touch Anushes big tits, but she jumps back.

"Sister is too shy. We give her a full lesson next time but bring a condom, maybe two."

"Sure, I always do."

Olga puts her arms around me but tactfully doesn't kiss me. Her hair smells like she just shampooed it. I squeeze her and feel her nice warm tits against my chest.

"Gotta go," I say. Thanks, ladies. See you next time." Anush's face has turned red as she is licking her lips. She smiles shyly. I want to kiss her goodbye, but I don't want to scare her.

"Goodbye, sweetie, thanks, you were great."

And I am off to the next delivery. The rest of the day is one box after another. Because it's the Christmas season, the volume is staggering. I work late until the street lamps are turned on, and most of the house lights. When I finish around 7:30 PM, I head home with almost all the packages delivered. The few that remain I put in a steel cage inside the van for safekeeping. I am done.

T U E S D A Y*********************************

Well, today is Tuesday. The DJ on the radio at KCOL is playing "Groovy Tuesday', sounds like Rolling Stone's Jagger. He must be approaching 80, still composing and touring. It's crazy. And the word is his dick is tiny--but his wallet is large, and the girls are after his cock like bees on honey.

I have a bunch of packages that probably are Christmas gifts. I drop off a dozen or so, and I see the computer is telling me, 345 Condor Street, an address I know well. That's Amy Flynn. She's a very horny married lady whose husband is frequently away. Once I arrived, I buzzed her apartment on the 3rd floor.

"Amy, you've got a package.

"OK, can you bring it up, Freddy?"

"Sure."

I head up the stairs carrying a large box. This house is an old wooden multi. Probably a Victorian converted at some time in the past. Each floor has two apartments. Nothing fancy. With anticipation to see Amy, my cock is already swelling up.

As I trudge up the last few wooden steps, I can see Amy peeking out from behind her door. She has some sort of red bathrobe on, but the front is open, and her two big tits are waving at me.

Just as I get to the door, I hear a click, must be her neighbor spying on us.

Amy pulls me into her living room, and her hands are all over me.

"Hold on, Amy, let me get my shorts off."

"Nope," she says as she unzips my zipper and reaches inside,

"Oops, no underwear, you dirty boy."

"It's healthier, Amy. The fresh air keeps my cock dry."

By now, my dick is fully erect, all seven-plus inches, and my redhead is eager to get inside her puss.

"Hold on a sec, Amy. Let me get the shorts off."

"Nope, you gotta fuck me with the shorts on, or I'll send you back to work with blue balls. It's sexier that way."

What can I say? I fall on top of her as she leans back on the old blue couch. She's pulled my dick out of my shorts. Feeds my bruiser right into her pussy like an eel into its cave in the coral sea. It feels so wet and slick inside her.

"You got lube on? Or are you just so glad to see me?"

"I'm glad, just a little lube to welcome home your big boy. Just don't stop, Freddy, don't talk, just fuck me hard and fast."

I plow that field for a good three minutes, it's morning, and I guess my testosterone level is high. She's got her legs wrapped around my waist. Her tits are in my face. I start to lick her nips, but I can't prolong this. I'm driving it home with every ounce of strength I have, but I gotta give it up--my dick shoots a hail Mary that would win any football game.

Amy collapses backward, her legs loosen their grip, and her face has an idyllic expression of satisfaction.

"Could you go again?" she murmurs. I don't answer.

She laughs, "OK, I know you've gotta get back on the road."

She pulls me close and sucks my dick clean as if I'd showered. I get up to leave, and she is licking the sperm from her lower lip.

Amy is leaning back. She looks like she is going to fall asleep.

"Oh, Freddy, you make me so relaxed. You let yourself out, take a drink from the fridge." Her eyes close.

I put the little blue blanket over her and whisper,

"Sleep well, my Princess." Her eyes close as her tongue makes one last giro over her red lips.

I walk into the kitchen, grab a coke, and open the door out to the hall. I open it quietly, close it, and head down the first stair when I hear that click. A giant eyeball follows me as I skip downstairs. I run to the truck. My Ford High Top Transit is filled with packages, mostly from that internet outfit that keeps us delivery guys paid. I look up at the old building. The light is on in the apartment where the snoop lives. I can see her straining to see me, but I just ignore her. If the gossip was young and nude, tits to the window, I'd know she wanted a piece of me. I don't think that is the case.

I click on the computer, preloaded with all the deliveries. It has mapped out my next stop, Fortune Avenue, three blocks away.

It's a small private home. A sign on the door says, "leave delivery boxes if not at home," so I ring the bell and pile a few packages up to the side of the porch where they aren't visible from the street. I hear about theft, and I'm sure it exists, but I've not had that problem so far.

I get back to work, rushing to make up for the extra time I lost with Amy. In a few hours, I will catch up. I drop off several boxes on Euclid Avenue, and I rush back to the truck. Time is money. The computer now says "405 Signal St." That's where Mazzy Finestra lives. Maybe she gets her package today. I hit the finder on the computer, and there is her name. Knowing Mazzy, it is probably some toy for the dog.

Yeah, Mazzy has a cockapoo, a big white and brown dog, part cocker spaniel, and part poodle with a few bad habits, but nothing terrible. He's friendly, just wants to join in our sex. I ring twice, no answer, well maybe--- OK, there she is and Poochie right beside her. Mazzy is a feminist, she wants me to go down on her first, but she insists I have to be naked, then her vagina is all mine.

So there I am, parting Mazzie's long hanging labia, like two drapes covering her vagina. I'm on my knees. She's on the sofa chair, and my nose is in her vagina. It tastes nice and smells perfumed. What is that? Oh shit, Poochie is poking his wet nose where I don't want it. Somehow I manage to finish her off and gently push him away with my foot.

"I'm cuming," she whispers. Now you can fuck me."

I leap into her wet vag. It takes a while because it's my second fuck of the day.

"Fuck me, Freddy, harder. I really need your cock in me."

I do my best to satisfy Mazzie. I know if she is not pleased, that juicy vagina will no longer be on the menu. I summon up my reserve of energy, and with a thirty-second burst, I get the lid on my balls to open up, and I crank out an excellent second load. I pause as my juicer fills Amy up. She has her arms tight around me and doesn't let go until my dick begins to shrink. Then she releases me. Before I get up, I suck her tits for one last time and tell her how good it is to make love.

"Oh, Freddy, I know I'm just another delivery on your route."

"No, Mazzie, you are something extraordinary."

"Will you come to dinner sometime, Freddy?"

"Of course, I'll bring the wine and flowers."

"Thanks, Freddy, It was so good being with you."

"Me too."

I start to get dressed, pat Poochie on the head, put on my short socks, slip into my loose gym shoes, say goodbye, and run out the door. Why doesn't she lock the dog up? I don't know why, but I know enough not to ask. It's a breezy morning. The Santa Ana winds are acting up. I get back into the van, and I'm off again to deliver my packages.

I see on the computer there is one package for Suzy Cohen, a prime nymph. I can't handle a third fuck this early in the day. I'll mark it "no one home" and deal with it tomorrow. I'm overburdened but delighted because Suzy is a cool customer. I decide I'll deliver her box tomorrow. Two fucks in the early hours are enough for the day. I keep a few viagra tabs on hand if I need them, but not today. When I've popped them a few times, it makes my head get all warm, and the colors seem to swirl around me.

After these ladies, but I need to relax a bit and get back to business. The rest of the day went smoothly. I saw Mr. Kronofsian, an old guy who collects returnable bottles. I save a few plastic ones for him in a plastic bag that I hang off a knob on the dashboard. He doesn't speak much English, but he knows how to smile and say, "thank you." I see he has some orange flag on his bike. What the hell for, I don't know. Oh, Oh, it must be for the Armenian holocaust day. Yeah.

W E D N E S D A Y **********************************

Well, we are up to Wednesday. I love to get to Hump day. The weekend is not far away. Another push, and it will be here.

I see that Mexican kid. He's in his wheelchair. I imagine the kid has cerebral palsy, or as they say on the block, he's a spastic. Even with his disability, he spends every day collecting bottles he can hardly carry. He pushes the wheelchair with a shopping cart tied on, uphill, walking backward. I pull over and give him a fiver. He nods, makes some garbled speech, but I don't know what he's saying. His tongue is hanging out of his mouth. Jesus, what a thing to have to live with, and there he is working his butt off.

I see in the back there is a package today for Mari Bismo. She's a tranny, and a famous escort to boot, but she likes my dick, so maybe if she is in the mood, I'll get a butt fuck. It's 11:30. I don't dare go there earlier as Mari stays up most of the night with her clients. Does she have an 11-inch dick? Well, maybe 12- inch? Guys come even from foreign countries to try to blow her or put it to other uses when they turn their backsides on her, if you catch my meaning. She is usually nude wearing these six-inch red high heel shoes. She towers over me. Yes, I measured her cock one time by eye when she told me to hold it. It was flaccid but so long and thick. Jeez, it must be 12-inches when she gets hard.