Nudio's Pizza - On The Job Challenge

How did I end up standing out here in the middle of a four lane road without a stitch of clothing, blue and red light flashing across my chest and junk in the middle of Drake Avenue?

It's a long story, but basically, it's all because Barney Fife hates me, hates my job, hates my boss, and hates everybody I work with.

That's not his real name of course. That would be too good a gift from the gods of pizza delivery. It's just that 'Barney Fife' fits him a lot better than 'Officer Rodney Smithee'.

Cops tend to hate pizza drivers, or, if not hate us, at least see us as easy targets. But Tony, our boss, takes care of the cops, and they all love us.

Except for Barney. I was on my way back from painting cute little white hearts on a pizza for a couple of randy old ladies when Barney lit me up. Again.

Oh, wait, I should back up. Fallsworth is a beautiful little suburb of Ft. Lauderdale, near the heart of one of the premier tourist destinations in the world. You'd think they'd get a fair cut of all that succulent sounding tax money, but they lacked the one thing that is the main draw for tourists.

Fallsworth is landlocked. There are no beaches. We're hard up against the Everglades, and if it wasn't for 'Glades University, there would never be any reason for anybody to come here.

So the City Council decided to fall back on the second biggest thing that draws tourists. Or maybe it's the first, if you attribute most of the attraction of beaches to the beautiful people in skimpy clothes that are often found there.

Fallsworth took advantage of a loophole in Florida law to declare public nudity fully legal. Full frontal, full backal, full everything. The full Monty, anywhere, any time.

Whether intentionally or not, the wording of the bill made lewd acts in public only a misdemeanor, basically a traffic ticket. And word came down to the cops from somewhere to look the other way, except in the most egregious cases. Or, if they can't help looking, to keep both their dicks and their ticket books in their pants. So yeah, you can fuck in public here, just don't do it in the middle of Main Street on a Sunday afternoon.

Barney misread the memo. I don't know how the stick got up his ass, or what shape it was, but for some reason he hated nudity. He hated sex even more. So he hated us with a passion. If he was married, I didn't know whether to feel sorry for his wife or to blame her.

In any case, he blamed us, maybe because we were easy targets. We were the most visible manifestation of the new laws, or at least the one he knew where to find when he got his dander up.

Drawing cute little hearts with my dick... it's a talent I'm pretty proud of, by the way. I mean, try it sometime. See if you can control the speed and flow well enough to paint anything other than a monochrome Jackson Pollock reject on anything, let alone within a 16-inch circle. All while you're having an orgasm.

Anyway, that isn't the only special service we offered, and Barney knew it. Hell, practically everybody in town knew it. But Tony has friends in high places, and/or a big file cabinet full of dirt on people in high places.

I know nothing...

Tony's last name is not Nudio, name of the business notwithstanding. It's Annunzio, which is, I guess, close enough to write it off as a typo. Probably five minutes after the Fallsworth Council passed the new laws, he'd struck on a a bright idea to increase his business.

He changed the name, and started interviewing attractive young people with good driving records, full insurance, and a high threshold for embarrassment. And he's no bigot, he knew that male drivers would be in demand as well. If not as much as hot college girls, enough to pad the bottom line by a nice margin.

No, I'm not gay, though there is a lot of demand for that, and if I'm just there to wave the flag, I'm not picky about my customers. I've gotten used to being ogled like a piece of meat by guys. Now I know how the girls feel.

But in fact, there's a lot of women out there who like a little innocent fun, and quite a few who like their fun less innocent, or downright raunchy. Giggling college girls indulging their curiosity or that have to touch a wee-wee to make good on a dare or a lost bet. Single career women with no time for a boyfriend, let alone a husband. Lonely middle aged women with fading looks and a longing for past glory.

I can provide all of that with no strings attached, and without having to deal with a frat boy or boy next door who will be a whole lot more selfish and a lot less skilled than I am.

There was more than enough business for me and one other straight guy at the shop. As to the semen condiments, yeah, it surprised me too. But a lot of women actually like the taste, surprising as that is. That doesn't mean they always want a mouthful of it, any more than you would want a mouthful of mustard. But spread it around, let it be a subtle, earthy spice that enhances the flavors of meat and cheese and grease... well, I'll take their word for it that it can be quite the delicacy.

Not all the guys working there were straight. Guys who liked guys were in a lot of demand when the call was for more than just eye candy. Of those three, a guy named Brad was happy to switch hit when business called for it, kind of a utility infielder, able to fill in where he was needed, without regard to what kind of orifice needed filling.

And he could really fill them. He had a schlong big enough, even limp, to use to swing from the trees if he wanted to.

===

"Just a warning?" Chrissy asked after I came in the side door and told her the story of getting pulled over, again, by Barney.

Getting dressed and undressed between runs was time consuming, a pain in the ass, and just plain silly. Plus, hanging around naked built a unique kind of camaraderie among the drivers.

That's why I came in the side door, and why Tony had built this little break room for us to hang out in. We weren't allowed up front because the legislation that allowed public nudity wisely did not include letting people smear their fromunda cheese all over food prep surfaces. Good for us, because we didn't have to do the usual work that drivers at less enlightened establishments have to do while waiting for their next delivery. Like wiping down counters, restocking the make line, answering phones, or folding your pizza boxes.

"He's getting sick of beat downs in court," I said.

"Or he's changed his tactics," said a voice behind me. I turned and saw Patricia leaning in the break room door.

Patricia was the phone girl and all around helper, so she had to be dressed. Technically, she was, but if what she was wearing counted as clothes, then Hooter's girls might as well be wearing nuns' habits.

Yeah, she was the one I looked at behind my eyelids when I had to draw hearts for the two old ladies. The ladies were sweet, and tipped me more than a stripper makes for a dance in the VIP room, but still, I need more inspiration than they were able to provide. Especially if they weren't my first 'special' of the day.

"How do you mean?" Chrissy asked. Chrissy was smoking hot and as scantily clad as I was. The only reason she wasn't the star of my fantasies was that she was Tony's daughter, and in line to take over the business one day. Not that she was strictly off limits - Tony's not stupid or naive - but things could get awkward if I made a habit of thinking about her bent over the hood of my car.

Patricia, on the other hand, welcomed that kind of attention. Even better, she enjoyed making real memories to add to my mental spank bank whenever we closed together.

"I mean, if he just gives warnings, he can pull you guys over more often. Hassle you even more." Patty said.

Shit. I hadn't thought of that angle. He'd been bad enough already. This could get ridiculous.

====

I didn't do specials from day one. They needed to get used to me, make sure I planned to stick around, and that I could be trusted.

I can be pretty oblivious sometimes, but I was probably the last person in town to know what went on when somebody ordered a pizza with 'everything'. We didn't actually have an everything option on the menu. We offered 32 separate ingredients, many of which no sane person would want together on the same pizza even if it was practical to pile it all on.

It was Chrissy who took me aside and felt me out about it, about six weeks after I'd been hired. I was making good tips already, more than I ever could have made with my clothes on, but I was starting to get a whiff of more money going through the other drivers' hands than I saw my share of.

Chrissy, like I said, is Tony's daughter, and apparently his buffer, the one who runs the other business and lets Tony keep his hands clean. Chrissy and Patricia, as I would soon discover.

"You sure have a nice dick," Chrissy told me out of the blue one day when we were the only two drivers in the break room. I was sitting on the sofa and she had walked up to stand right in front of me.

She's a really nice girl, but a bit aloof. Reserved, not unfriendly. Not the kind to make a comment like that, at least without some preliminaries, and probably dinner.

Smart as a whip, too. Good head for business, and really great tits. They're a bit on the big side for her frame, in my view, but then disproportionality is the opposite of a problem when you're dealing with frat bros.

Her being smart as well as reserved made me sure there was some purpose behind this comment, which accounts for my confused reaction. What is the protocol exactly, when a co-worker and semi-official boss looks down at you sitting on the couch and spontaneously praises your genitalia? I doubt Emily Post had ever addressed this specific situation.

"Umm, thanks." was all I said.

"Do you manage to keep all those college girls from groping you?" she asked, smiling at my confusion.

"Mostly," I said, trying to give Chrissy a smile that said 'not as often as I should' without actually saying it. It often got me bigger tips, but there had never been a formal price attached to it. I mean, really, just not having to be the one paying felt like a bonus.

"Hard to resist sometimes, I know." she said, still standing there with her hands on her hips and her stance just closed enough that she didn't look like she was spreading her legs for me.

I decided to feel out her intentions. "I'm supposed to draw the line at touching." I said.

She nodded. "Yes, you are. But sometimes that line gets crossed. It happens. Do you wish you were allowed to let them?"

"You mean, am I straight?"

Chrissy laughed. It was a nice laugh. "We all know you're straight. I mean, is that something you'd be comfortable with?" Her tone was casual, almost joking, but that tone didn't fit Chrissy, nor did the intent look in her eyes.

I worried that I was being led into a minefield. "I could live with it, if it wasn't going to get me in trouble."

"Just live with it?" she asked, with a big, knowing grin.

I cracked a smile. "OK. I'd like it. Probably a lot."

"Do you imagine it when you jerk off? Getting paid for what you would do for free?"

I was about to say "I will now," but before I could say out loud what I probably ought to be kept in my head, I was saved by Patty coming around the corner.

"It's dead slow," she said. "Nothing in the line at all."

"Well?" Chrissy asked, looking back at me.

"Where is this going?" I asked, if only to put off answering.

"Officially, nowhere." she said, not so cryptically.

"I wouldn't have any problem with that," I said, taking a stab at where I was starting to think she might be going.

She nodded, and gestured for me to stand, then she led me out the side door to an out of the way little nook that was shielded from the street. She let me lean on the wall while she stood in front of me. Patty was just steps behind.

She asked me a few more questions, more details like whether or not I could last more than ten seconds with a truly hot girl - I could, I was pretty sure - or whether I could bring myself to fuck an ugly, middle aged woman.

She sensed my hesitation at that last one. "I mean, just in principle. Something you could see yourself doing?"

"In principle, hypothetically, I guess everything has a price," I said, trying to walk a fine line. I didn't really want to think about what my price would be to do a fat forty something woman with stretch marks and sloppy, saggy tits. But my wallet could use some fattening. A lot of fattening.

"You give good head?" she suddenly asked. This was starting to feel like a job interview, the kind Tony himself would not be conducting.

"I haven't had any complaints," I said, not really answering the question.

"That could mean you've never done it. Ever had any compliments?"

So, she caught my little evasion. I had done it. "Not in so many words," I said, truthfully. I was pretty sure the few girls I'd gone down on had liked it, but then, a lot of girls appreciate the effort even if the result isn't stellar.

"Show me," she said, taking me by the shoulders and spinning us around so her back was against the wall. She lowered herself a few inches to give her room to open her legs.

I just gaped at her. It wasn't like I didn't know what to do when a girl propositioned me. This was not my first rodeo. It was that this situation didn't fit any of the slots in my head where such a thing would normally fit.

"Show me what you've got," she said. "Whatever you do, whatever you need to do to get me off. Except using your dick."

I just looked at her for another minute, but this time, I was sizing her up. This was a different Chrissy than I was used to, but I was definitely not complaining. OK, I thought, she's made it clear as glass. I still didn't know for sure why - I doubted she just had a sudden urge to have an orgasm - but I was determined to make it happen.

If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right. I leaned in and kissed her, on the theory that the best cunnilingus starts much further north. It's all about the brain for girls. For us guys, get some wet, sloppy friction on our knob and it almost doesn't matter where it comes from. That's why some guys resorted to sheep, I supposed.

But girls, you gotta get their heads into it first. Do that, and you hardly have to touch them, though I definitely planned to touch Chrissy. She'd given me nearly carte blanche, so I was going to get every taste I could get.

She responded well to my kissing, though her eyes remained a little skeptical. No worries, I was going to make her a believer. Not bragging here, but I actually knew how to find the clitoris, which, from what I hear, puts me in the 90th percentile at least. I didn't linger on those lips for long. She'd told me flat out which lips she wanted my mouth on, so this was more about getting her synapses tuned up than convincing her to let me get into her non-existent pants.

I'll spare you the gory details... (wait... hello? are you still there?), but I eventually made my way down to glory, and after circling the honeypot for a while, teasing, feinting, making a few test probes and parries, just making sure she really, desperately wanted me to get on with it, I dove in.

I didn't even need to use my fingers. She seemed to enjoy it, unless she was just coincidentally experiencing a medically alarming episode. Either way, she eventually recovered fully aside from some abrasions on her back where she slid down along the rough brick after her knees gave out.

I stood and worked out the cricks in my knees and back. I'd had to squat instead of kneeling to avoid the broken pavement in the alley from chewing up my knees.

"That'll do." Crissy croaked out. She and Patty shared a look of approval. Chrissy looked up at the tool I hadn't had to use to turn her into a quivering heap. "Good, you stay hard while giving a girl head."

I was. I was raging hard.

"We got a ringer here?" Patty asked.

"Looks like it," Chrissy said, still bobbing her head on a loose neck.

"Let me take this one," Patty said, pushing my back against the wall and squatting in front of me while Chrissy lolled against the bricks.

You know how it goes. A blowjob is just a blowjob. Unless Patty is giving it. Oh my god.

I honestly can't remember all the gory details, (you still with me? Hello?). It was like every nerve in my body was being plucked one by one by some supernatural four dimensional force that had been miraculously tuned exactly to my frequency.

Jesus. I came so hard I thought that I was going to splash the closest parked car right through the back of her neck. She took it all with a smile, a smile that got wider and wider the more I spewed down her throat.

When it was over, she dribbled part of a mouthful back over my knob and pulled her head away. She looked at me wide-eyed, then at Chrissy. "Tell me it's not just me," Patty told her, pushing my dick towards my underboss's face.

Chrissy looked confused, but she turned her head and slurped Patty's leavings off my dick. She worked her lips and tongue over it like a connoisseur sampling the latest offering from the sommelier. Then she went back to clean me off completely.

"It's not just you," she agreed.

"That tastes fantastic!" She looked up at me with what almost looked like awe in her eyes. Or maybe I was just still floating on an astral plane and misinterpreting the songs of angels.

That's when the door to our right was thrown roughly open. Tony leaned out, took a look at his naked daughter in a heap and Patty squatting in front of me with her hand still wrapped around my cock, which I was starting to think would never go limp again.

"Chrissy, you're up," he barked.

She looked over at him, not even flinching. "OK, Dad, we're just finishing up here."

'Dad'. Oh, fuckity fuck fuck. I didn't want to look at him, but I had to. He had the same expression on his face he always had, not happy, not mad, not anything else. All business.

"And you," he said, pointing at me. I gulped, figuring I was in for a whole different kind of tongue lashing. The kind you get from a father who just caught you ravishing his daughter.

But it was just business. "Yours just went in the oven. Get yourself cleaned up." Chrissy started walking to the door and he held it open for her. He sniffed when she passed. "You too," he said. Then he cocked his head. "You got cum on your chin," he informed her

I found out later that Brad agreed that my cum tasted better than any he'd ever had. No, I did not let Brad suck my dick, though he really wanted to once he heard. But I couldn't stop Patty from kissing him with a mouthful of it several days later.

Either way, I later became a fan favorite for adding a unique flavor to Nudio's pizzas, for those in the know. One that nobody else in town could reproduce. And sometimes I put it on in the shape of cute little hearts.

If one of the girls was available, she might help. Brad kept offering to help, and I kept politely turning him down, to the point where it became something of a friendly joke between us.

I never had a guy have the hots for me before. I admit it was good for my ego, but... no, just no. Sorry, Brad, you're a good guy, and if you want to go have a beer after work, I'm there. But keep your hands, or anything else, away from my dick.

====

Barney was a near constant companion. He was on my ass as much as Brad ever wanted to be. He was on everyone's ass, but he liked mine the most. When he got bored, he would park in the lot across from the store, and pick a driver at random to follow out. Maybe he would pull them over, maybe he would just try to spook them.

He really screwed me over once. Or at least almost did. It was on my first special, as if he somehow knew.