Not Another Pizza Delivery Story

I've shared this story many years ago with some friends, with different characters, different setting, etc. If you recognise this...well, there you are. Otherwise, if you like bears, and you like stupid porn cliches, this is the story for you. Maybe.

Not another pizza delivery story!

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Stephen Bustamante (9:43): bro do you need me to come get you still

Riley Bustamante (9:47): Yeah probably. Party's starting to drag.

I'll still hang out here for a bit though

I'll text you at 11?

Stephen (9:55): ok I won't start watching without you then

don't get too fucked up

Riley (9:59): Sure...see you back in a bit, kuya.

Stephen (11:30): dude it's way past 11 am I getting you or nah?

Riley (11:49): kya you wont believe

macknzie litlerlaly just hirrd some sttirpeers

Stephen (11:50): RILEY you're hammered

man just crash there tonight don't try to come home

the main guy fuckin dies by the way fucker

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Stephen swiped away from his message with his brother Riley, who, despite the expectations of the known world, had let him down. His little brother, who didn't even drink orange juice when they had parties at their place, but when he went to parties with his friends, he could stay for the strippers. Great. It was the first time he'd broken their tradition of catching new season premieres for their favourite shows.

He peeled himself off the couch and slunk over to the kitchen, his hunger only amplified by his annoyance. If there was one thing he could count on--definitely wasn't his drunk little brother--it was the nearby pizza joint, named King's Famous Pizza, the menu for which he grabbed off the bulletin board just above the table. He dialled the number, printed on the front flap in 32-point Comic Sans.

Famous to who? The neighbourhood? Stephen was feeling just a bit petty.

"King's Famous Pizza, how can I help you?" answered the voice that picked up the phone. His voice was so deep, it was almost indecipherable amongst the din that was going on in the background. Stephen noted his intriguing accent. Iranian?

"Hello. Can I place an order for delivery?" Stephen idly rubbed his soft, round belly through his shirt.

"Uh...brother, I don't know what to say, we're closing delivery in ten...." Before the man on the other end could finish that thought, Stephen heard another voice yelling in his direction. "Okay, okay, sorry boss," mumbled the guy who picked up. "Yes, del--delivery is fine. What can I get for you?"

He smiled to himself, despite it all. "Yeah, I'll have a small meat-lover," he replied; "with the stuffed crust. And a bottle of Coke, please." The other guy muttered the same words back as he jotted the note down.

"Small...meat lover's. Okay. And Coke. Okay. And your address?"

"1257 Meadowhall Drive. Unit 301. It's an apartment and the buzz number is 998. My phone number is 214...yeah, 4--7653."

"Okay, brother. It'll be there in 20 minutes. Is that gonna be cash or debit?" Stephen replied with the former option. "Okay, brother. I'll see you there."

When he hung up, he noticed that he had a text from Riley but he chose not to acknowledge it. It was probably misspelled and about the apparent strippers at the party he was at. Knowing him, someone probably spilled beer on their shirt and took it off, and Riley thought they got paid to do it. He was a dumbass. He strode back to the living room, where a brown corduroy couch that had his body's wide shape grooved into it was waiting for him.

He nodded off for a second, which stretched into twenty minutes. His right hand had found its way into his underwear, and more out of boredom than anything, he started fondling his soft cock. He grew to his engorged length of five inches, nested softly in his wiry black pubic hair. It wasn't terribly impressive to most guys, but he knew where his strengths lay. His thick flabby ass and pink hole was his siren's song. It helped that he was a consummate bottom.

From his open window, the sound of a motor roused him alert; it closed in on his apartment complex, and then stopped. His phone rang, no doubt his delivery driver pinging him to greet him at the door. Timing, he sighed, and stood up. When he went to the lobby three flights down, he was surprised to see that it was the same delivery guy he'd gotten when he'd gotten pizza two weeks ago.

He wouldn't deny that he was secretly hoping for something like this to happen.

He's fucking hot, Stephen thought; a brown-skinned, maybe Middle Eastern guy that couldn't have been much older than himself. Broad shoulders that hung his too-wide-too-big-too-tall frame. An attractively taut paunch. Thick nipples that poked through his shirt. A wide mouth for his serious face. The uniform he had on struggled to keep him all under wraps. And hair, hair everywhere.

"Hey," Stephen greeted his driver, trying his best not to gawp at him.

"Hello, brother," came the reply, in a voice so deep it touched the cheap tile flooring in the vestibule. The same guy that had answered the phone! "Got your order from King's. Small pizza and Coke?"

"Yep, that's me, thanks."

"Alright, sir. That will be $18.55."

Stephen fumbled in his pocket, sighing at himself. "Shit, I...I left my wallet in my unit, it's upstairs...." The delivery guy titled his head. "Do you mind? You can come in if you want to...."

"Well...alright, then," was the reply; Stephen had to make way for him to come in. He noticed he smelled like soap, the outside, and the grease-tile joint that he knew Campus Pizza was. "Thankfully, this is the last delivery of the night." He smiled down at his customer, dimples cleaving his cheeks when he smiled. Bright white teeth poked through the image of his thick black beard.

Stephen closed the door behind him, and led the driver to the elevator. "Sorry," he apologised; "just one really small elevator in here.

"It's no problem, brother," the taller man said, nodding in his direction. "I mean, I'm not doing anything after this." In response he got a short chuckle; a deep thrum in his chest that he could almost touch, given how cramped the elevator had become. It already could barely hold one fat guy, but two? The delivery guy stood close behind as they ascended. From behind him, Stephen heard an exhale.

Three floors up, and they got to 301. Stephen admitted his driver into the apartment he shared with his brother, where the sound of their season premiere was still going. The delivery guy's eyes fell on the screen as Stephen went in before him, headed for the kitchen where he'd left his wallet earlier.

"You watch this show?" his guest mused aloud, hefting the insulated bag.

"Yeah." He came back out of the kitchen, wallet in hand. "Me and my brother were supposed to catch this premiere together."

The delivery guy pursed his lips as he stole another cursory look at the screen. "I don't understand it," was all he said. "There are zombies, but everyone is sad about it." Stephen laughed at his candidness. He pulled his twenty out by the corner that stuck out of the pocket, and had just enough of a grip on it before it slipped out of his grip and fluttered to the floor. He let out a grumble, resigned to reaching down for it.

"Shit," he muttered, fishing around the floor in the unlit front landing for his lost bill. A momentary glimmer told him it was right between the delivery guy's feet. You are fully kidding me, he muttered to himself. As he reached over, he glanced up, noticing the twitching bulge in his green shorts. He's hard right now! He had seen enough porn to know just how this was supposed to go down.

"It's alright, brother," his guest replied, not making any motion to cover himself. Apparently, this delivery guy had seen the same porn. What a fucking in, Stephen thought; thank you, whoever's looking out for me up there.

He stood back up, his bill in hand and the upturned crook of a smirk in his lips. "Uhh...you're rock hard." It wasn't much of a question. Another deep-dimpled smile from his guest, and a spread of hands.

"Sorry about that, brother," the delivery guy replied. "I'm ahh...how do I say this nicely. I'm just really quite horny." Images of this behemoth of a man peeling himself out of his too-tight clothes, revealing the mat of black fur that Stephen knew lined his body...he needed to see it for himself.

He came closer to this giant man. "So...why are you hard right now?" He angled his body, putting a hand on the wall closest to where the delivery guy's hand was loosely hanging from.

"Are you kidding me?" was the response. "You are...well, you are very attractive, my friend."

Stephen laughed, despite himself. "Thank you, man. I think...I think you're really hot too." He reached out with his pinky, prodding at his guest's hand. In return, he reached down and around, landing on the small of Stephen's back. "Listen...my brother won't be back for a while...come with me. Please?"

"Oh, yeah," he exhaled, deep and throaty. The delivery guy moved in closer; Stephen smelled the cool familiarity of spearmint bubble gum mixed with weed. They closed the gap between them, bulge meeting bulge; Stephen involuntarily ground into him. He threw his wallet back on the table and gripped the nape of his guest's neck.

Stephen could hardly believe what he was feeling when, under his fingers, he felt the body of a man who was solid and thick under his deceptively soft silhouette. Round but firm valleys defined the landscape of his body, and a pert, thick ass to tie it all together. Immediately, the delivery guy went right for his host's goods in the rear, kneading the plump mounds under his fingers. He hefted his cheeks like produce in his broad, thickly-fingered hands. Stephen groaned in affirmation and urged him to keep exploring.

"The moment you turned around, and I saw that ass..." the delivery guy mumbled into Stephen's ear in irregular breaths; "All my prayers, answered."

"Yeah?" came the reply; an aggressive, breathy growl. "You can have it, big guy." And of course, the delivery guy complied. They stumbled backwards into a lightless hallway, and eventually into Stephen's bedroom. He could see the TV still going, a stray shaft of blue in the black hall, but that didn't register, as the delivery guy had flipped Stephen's shorter frame over, his inspection of his host's heavily fat ass not anywhere near finished.

From above, Stephen could hear 'fuck' being repeated again and again; moans eased out of his lips as his guest's gentle massaging of his buns caused fire to spread throughout his lower half. Without realizing it, he supported himself with his knees and pushed up, grinding his ass even closer to his guest's face.

"Oh yeah," he heard from above; "I'm gonna take your underwear off and eat that ass, alright?"

"Do it," the smaller of the two demanded, pushing his ass closer. First he felt his sweatpants sliding, the flannel fabric dragging down his cheeks feeling like a hundred feathers. Next came his boxers, and then, a coo of approval from tonight's impromptu company. He shuddered in anticipation of the sensation he was about to get.

The delivery guy put two cool fingers against his hole and gently, ever so gently prodded. He rubbed in a circular motion: the feeling was a gentle twinge that he could spend forever experiencing. But he would trade it all for the feeling that followed: a hot swipe against his exposed hole, and the tingling that demanded to be noticed.

"Oh my god," Stephen murmured, his voice climbing up his register. His guest was aggressive, insistent, but attentive, licking at him and sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. Next, he felt his bottoms being pulled down further, and his guest reaching between his thighs and taking a hold of his short, heavy dick. Immediately, he slicked up, being milked. The delivery guy's gentle vertical motion was driving him insane. He was dripping more than he normally did when just jacked off.

"You taste so, so good," the delivery guy mumbled from where he was, licking from the tip of Stephen's cock to his hole. His host groaned and gripped the sheets underneath them both; meanwhile, he had managed to undo his belt and let himself free. When Stephen turned to look curiously at his cock, his eyes nearly boggled out of his head. Six, maybe seven inches of dark, fuzzy cock that was half as thick as a wrist flopped out of those shorts and hit his foot with a heavy thud. What a fucking sight.

Delivery guy continued his attack on Stephen's ass, framing his face between those pert cheeks, soft as cake bread. Easy, aroused moans dripped into the air, and clothes kept getting pulled off until eventually, the two of them were sweat-sheen naked. He explored Stephen's soft body with his eyes when he flipped him back over; his pink-headed dick reached right up to his pubic mound, where his leaking precum pooled in the rolls underneath his belly. He inhaled deeply.

Stephen stared up at this towering man, his eyes lost in the darkness and a haze that clouded them, and made his cheeks burn rose. "Sit on my chest," he told him as he stroked his guest's furry thighs; a move that made the huge man sigh, and his thighs quake. "I wanna suck your cock." And he complied, scooting up and up his body until the red tip crowning his brown shaft could touch the man's sable-coloured lips.

The delivery guy threw his head back and groaned as he felt the first tentative lick on his cock head, then Stephen's lips fully closing around the first two inches or so. His mouth was hot as the rest of him, hot as the air their combined body heat affected.

"Fuck my face," Stephen mumbled in between thrusts, letting go only for air. And he obliged, leaning forward somewhat and anchoring himself on the headboard as he levered his heavy body over the smaller man. The bed squeaked its violent protest. At this awkward position, Stephen could only fit half of his cock in his mouth, and accepted that much with the delivery guy's deliberately measured in-and-out motions.

"This is so amazing," he groaned, his dick twitching in the receiving mouth. "This is fucking amazing, I don't want to cum yet." Yet his host only pushed his head up more, taking more of that shaft down his hot, willing throat. He held it there for a few seconds, rolling the thickness of it on his tongue. He groaned, the encroaching feeling of orgasm threatening to bowl him over.

"It's okay if you cum," was the reply, finally, punctuated by a lingering lick from the base of his shaft to his crown. He jacked him off; the air filled with that telltale slap! noise. The larger man shuddered, a motion that ground his knees into the mattress below him. "I want you to cum in my mouth," Stephen continued, still milking him. "I want your cum. Please. Please..."

"You're so fucking cute," delivery guy groaned, grabbing his dick by the base and tapping it on his host's plump red lips. "You want me to shoot in your fucking mouth?" Stephen replied with a long lick on the underside of his guest's dick. "Fuck yeah. I'm gonna shoot in your fucking mouth."

Cock already slick with saliva and precum that kept on flowing, the delivery guy dropped all his notions of slowness, and furiously beat his dick in his host's face. Stephen pushed himself up, his battered mouth wide open and ready to receive. His tongue darted out, lapping at the head of his guest's dick, which elicited a groan out of him.

The larger man's "here it is" was pressed between his control and his orgasm, and when he came, he shot hard. Three good white-hot ropes of cum jetted out of his dick, and made streaks across his host's face and headboard. The aftershock of three weaker pumps all caught in the smaller man's mouth, and he closed his lips around the shaft that twitched with his fading, but still-going orgasm. Eventually, he eased up enough to slide back down his host's soft, dusky brown body, and lie beside him.

Stephen was using his discarded shirt to wipe at his face when the big delivery guy reached over to assist. When he could open his eyes, he realized how actually dark it was; stretching his arm out, he turned on his lamp. His guest reeled; the sudden light was a flash in both their eyes.

"Ah, sorry." Stephen put a hand on the other man's forearm. "Should've warned you."

"It's alright," was the reply. He settled with keeping his eyes shut for the time being, but a smile rested on his face and poked long dimples into his cheeks. Stephen took the sight of him in. Maybe it was the post-orgasm come-down, but he found the bigger man...cute, resting like this.

He took stock of the whorls of hair on his arms, his chest. The couple of tattoos he had; some faded, some still strongly black as if he'd gotten them within the year. He looked tough. He fucked tough, too. Stephen reached over to stroke his chest...and thought better of it at the last second.

Eventually, after moments of lying there with only ambient noise to fill the silence, the delivery guy could open his eyes. He looked up at his host, whose eyes were trained on his, and a smile to accompany them. A somewhat awkward one; nobody ever quite knew what to do after an encounter you only see in porn.

"That was really hot," Stephen finally said, tentatively reaching over and tracing a line down his guest's chest. "You're really fun to do it with."

"Thanks brother, you are too." In his deeply-dimpled smile was sincerity. "Are you--I mean, you have to, I gotta go, right?" The question was clear on the larger man's face, making him wide-eyed. Despite himself, a flutter rose in Stephen's chest.

"I...I mean, I'd like it if you stayed for a bit," he admitted; "since you were done and you weren't busy, I mean...." A smile touched his round cheeks. "I thought we could fool around some more."

The pizza delivery guy propped himself up on an elbow, and leaned down. Again, they met halfway, a more chaste kiss amongst their shared nudity. "Fuck, yeah," he replied. "Fuck yeah. Do you mind if I use the bathroom, though?"

"Not at all." Stephen pulled himself back up and was vertical, but the room swam around him, colours and heat all stirring. In a flash, his guest was already reaching for his clothes. In a moment, he had put them back on, and it seemed as if nothing had happened, save for his short hair looked tossed and pulled at.

The taller man turned, the valleys on either side of his smile shaded in by the shadows the bedside light created. "Be right back," he told him, with honesty in his tone, before he turned on his heel and was back out in the hallway. As Stephen watched him go, he lay back down in bed. This night is not even close to being done, he mused to nobody but his messed-up sheets.

In the lamplight, Stephen could finally fish around for his clothes. His bed and immediate surroundings were a mess, but everything else was in order; all his books were on their shelves and his desk looked neat enough to have people see it. Although he wasn't sure how much his guest cared about how his room looked.

He reached down and slipped his underwear back on, and after a second's thought, he left his flannel bottoms on the floor. And after another second's thought, he looked around in the bottom drawer of his dresser where, yes, he still had those condoms he'd taken from the pop-in men's health clinic that pulled into his area every once in a while. Ambitiously, he had grabbed a roll of about twelve. And his gambit paid off; he was down to four now.

He took a couple off, and a bottle of lube. Turning off his lamp, he headed back out into the living room, where the TV was still on, and he changed the channel, dreadfully tired of the show he'd been on earlier. In between the sounds of channel surfing, he heard the downstairs front door open and close, and heavy footfalls start to come up the stairs. He smiled to himself, leaving his materials on the coffee table and watching the doorway.