tagExhibitionist & VoyeurThe Pizza Boy Lives

The Pizza Boy Lives


Another pizza boy fantasy? No fantasy necessary; it happened. Or rather, isn't sex where fantasy and reality meet? I know what happened to us (we made it happen), but it will be only fantasy for you. But perhaps it will inspire you to do likewise.

To be honest, I think it was an episode of "Friends" that got us started and not some cheap porno movie from the 80s. Or was it Joey watching some cheap porn from the 80s and talking to Chandler about it? I don't what the 'original' pizza boy fantasy is. A couple of chicks getting a little drunk, ordering, and seducing the delivery boy? All I know is that the reality of pizza delivery involves letting a young stranger into your house for a few moments while you pay for the pizza, and that's enough.

I like to watch other men checking out my girlfriend, who has a great body with a beautiful pair of tits, not huge but full and high. Val wears low-cut clothing too, especially in summer, just to let a little breeze in. She had on a sexy, sleeveless kind of cross-wrapped thin top one night when we decided to order a pizza. She's actually somewhat modest, but she does play along with me most of the time. The top revealed a bit of her midriff too. She also had a pair of short shorts on, showing off her long, smooth thighs. I announced to Val, out of the blue, that I wanted to show her off to the pizza boy. She scoffed at the idea, but I could tell she was interested.

We ordered. The die was cast. I told Val how sexy she looked. And how she could be still sexier if she just loosened the ties on that top a little, for the pizza boy. I did it for her. Intead of, say, a quarter of her breasts showing (standard cleavage), I revealed half. You could see the full curve where her breasts separated in the center. She had on a low cut bra, as usual, one designed not to get in the way of her decollete. She would have been reluctant to appear in public like that, but in the privacy of her own home, for a delivery boy, with me protecting her -- I convinced her to go through with it.

It was a warm evening. We each drank a tall glass of white rum. Just looking at Val's provocative clothing, I got turned on. My mouth would get dry with anticipation, and I would have to wet it with another sip of the rum. Val too. I put my glass down, pressed her up against the wall and gave her a hard kiss and stroked her breasts, reaching in to feel them all the way to the nipple. I had just put a hand between her legs and was fully erect and pounding when the doorbell of the building rang.

Val buzzed the boy in. We had maybe 15 seconds before he arrived at the door of Val's flat. Our hearts were beating like crazy. Val adjusted her clothing, but I prevented her covering herself up too much. God, she looked sexy, and she was a little flushed after the rum and the kissing and fondling. No doubt a little wet, too. I had felt the heat and the dampness right through her shorts.

Then came the second, louder buzz. Val opened the door. Our pizza boy was a boyish, 18-year-old with curly hair and an innocent face. Central casting couldn't have done better. He put the pizza on the counter, presented the bill to Val and waited to be paid. Val took out her purse, fumbling with it a little. I could see she was nervous. She didn't even seem to be thinking straight, as she handed over a bill that was too small and had to look for another one, which she didn't have, so she started to shake her purse for some change, while I looked for my own wallet. She was holding her purse up in front of her, and the boy was looking at it. Or rather, he was looking past it right at Val's breasts. Val was preoccupied with her purse, and I pretended to be distracted with my wallet, but I was really watching him staring at those beautiful, curving, swelling breasts.

Val found the money, tipped him, and then it was over as if nothing had happened. Nothing had happened. But the episode wasn't over. We watched through the peephole as the pizza boy disappeared into the lift. Then I took the pizza box, went outside, shut the door, and pressed the buzzer. Val let me in.

Now it was just her and the (new) pizza boy. She went through the same motions, but this time it was me staring at her chest. She tipped me. I asked her if she could "do a little bit more". She said that was all the change she had. I took her by the bare shoulders and looked into her eyes and told her that she was the sexiest girl I had ever delivered pizza to. I kissed her. And (once again) I pressed her against the wall, this time as the pizza boy. She said her boyfriend would soon he there. I said, never mind him, now you are mine.

I unbuttoned her shorts, unzipped them, and yanked them to the floor. I turned her around, dragged her knickers down off her bottom, roughly, till they too fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them. I pressed her hands against the wall and took her hard and fast -- as if I had another delivery to make, as if her boyfriend might be arriving any minute. Naturally, he didn't come. Or rather, he did, and so did Val, explosively.

The excitement lasted a whole week. Then it was time to re-order.

Val would have to wear something new and even more revealing. I suggested a loose netted garment she had that was designed to be worn over a brief top like a bikini when you walked back to your car from the beach. The twisted strands of cotton that made the netting were thick, but the diamond-shaped holes were big enough to see right through. I had Val put it on with nothing on underneath. Very sexy.

I couldn't help kissing her nipples right through the fabric (the tip of my tongue could touch them through the netting, and I sucked on them through the cloth), and I left two wet spots on the netting as well as two erect nipples. Val looked down and said "no way." Of course, I knew that she was getting turned on, too, so I suggested that she wear a bra underneath, her white demi-cup bra.

It's an underwire bra designed to be worn with dresses with low necklines, party dresses for parties where showing some skin is the fashionable thing to do. The cups are cut very low. They cover the nipple but not (in Val's case) the top of the areola. It wasn't a push-up bra, just a hold-up bra, but it did thrust Val's titties right out and hold them out to the eye like two ripe peaches in the hands. Val put it on for me, then threw the net over it, which made it even sexier. I caught the blush of pink above her nipples through the netting. So would the pizza boy.

We drank a couple of glasses or Ursus and soda, which went right to our heads. The front door bell rang. Val buzzed the boy in down below. I grabbed her in my arms and kissed her hard, and held her tight and fondled her breasts (dragging her bra cups as low as they would go and exciting her nipples) until the buzzer rang right at our door. Our hearts were racing. Would our boy be back? No!

It was a middle-aged pizza boy, a kind of sad-sack man with a stubbly beard. But I saw his eyes light up when they caught sight of Val. He stared. He never took his eyes off Val's tits. Val's nipples were poking out over the top of the lace of her bra (I don't think she realized it). I had a side view, and I wanted to suck them then and there and let the man watch me do it. The truth is that I wanted to watch him do it too. He had trouble making change. I could see he was distracted.

Val was frozen, but her chest was heaving. Her breathing was audible in the silence that accompanied the man's looking for change. He reached into his pocket. I wouldn't have been surprised if he started masturbating. I wanted him to do it. He must have known what was happening. But he couldn't go through with it. He eventually found the change. Val tipped him, but he didn't seem to notice. He just kept his eyes riveted on those beautiful peaches with the cherries on top. Then he turned and was gone.

I'll bet he jacked off in the lift.

Once again I took the pizza box and pretended to be the pizza man. I imitated his stares. Val paid me and I reached in my pocket for change. Only what I really reached for was my pounding cock. I started to stroke it through my pocket lining. Val saw what I was doing. She came close to me and let her breasts brush against me. She kissed me, then her hands went down and loosened my belt, and unzipped me, then got on her knees and pulled down my boxers and went to work on me, sucking and stroking. We ended up on the couch. She straddled me and rode me without restraint. I got that bra off her and sucked her nipples through the netting until we had a crashing, shaking orgasm together.

Then, of course, we had our pizza. What was next?

We had gone to the beach in the middle of the week. We had found a spot to swim naked, and Val had slipped her yellow sundress on for the drive home. She had nothing on underneath, which was distracting to me while driving. What really got me thinking was seeing her bend over to put the towels in the washer when we got back to her place.

The sundress rode right up her bum and showed her pussy. Val doesn't shave, but her pubic hair forms tufts at the top, on her mons. From behind she shows a beautiful symmetrical curving cleft of flesh, with a tuft of hair also visible. Whenever I see that, I want to mate with her: there's nothing sexier in the world than that view to me. I wanted to show it to the pizza boy and see if it affected him in the same way.

I didn't tell Val how much she was showing. She didn't really know how revealing it was when she bent over. I simply challenged her to order pizza wearing nothing but her sundress. It was sleeveless, of course, and it showed the tops of her breasts, but without support they were less impressive than with a bra. The fabric was thin enough that a flat nipple wouldn't show, but an erect one would.

I told Val that what I wanted her to do was spill some change on the flor and bend down to get it. We even practiced. At first Val simply bent over, but I insisted she get down on her hands and knees. I told her that a coin had rolled under the sofa. That was what I was after, ass in the air, dress riding up and showing the cleft and that tuft. I noticed that the dress fell down and permitted a clear view of Val's breasts from behind, too.

We ordered and had the usual drinks, and this time when I pressed Val up against the wall and kissed her, I slipped my hand right under her dress and got her wet by slowly stroking her clitoris. I went so far as to finger her. She stroked the outside of my shorts, and soon I was visibly erect. She was very turned on when the door bell rang. Her nipples were showing against the fabric of the dress. I think the flat must already have smelled of sex. Then the second buzzer rang, loudly.

Who would it be this time? It was the first boy again. He smiled at us. Or was it a smirk? Val wasn't showing him much tonight, however, other than her bralessness and the fact that for some reason her nipples were poking against her cotton dress. We were all a bit more relaxed this time around, as if we knew we were members in a mutual benefit society. Val held up her little leather change purse, and then, as we had rehearsed, she dropped it. When it struck the floor coins exploded everywhere. It looked like an accident, too. It was Val's fault, so she bent down to pick up the coins.

At first she kind of faced the pizza boy, but the trail of coins led her to turn around. I knelt down to pick up the ones that had rolled in my direction. Then I said: "I think some rolled under the couch." On her knees, bum in the air, Val stretched to get under the couch, and as she did so, the edge of her dress slowly rode up the back of her thighs, until it exposed that cleft, at least to me, who had a low vantage point. I could see that Val's labia were a little swollen and visibly wet.

I told the boy that he could help if he liked. He liked. He got right down behind Val, and I'm sure he knew what was going on. He didn't find any coins. He just stared. We could both see Val's breasts, too. Both of us were on our hands and knees, like dogs, behind Val. Val reached the coin she was stretching for, backed up, and righted herself on her knees. Now it was her turn to smirk at the two men on all fours on the floor. She knew what we had been up to (but not how much we had seen).

Here my narrative meets a fork in the road. What actually happened was that Val paid the boy and once again he was off, end of story. And I bent Val over the arm of the sofa and was inside her before the lift had even arrived for that poor (or happy?) boy. We just didn't want to involve a stranger in sex. Or rather, we did, but didn't want to cross that line.

And we didn't have to. Fantasy crossed it for us. As I slid in and out of Val on the couch, I told her what the boy and I had seen and I described to her an alternate scenario, one in which I reach out my hand to touch her bum and invite the boy to do the same. One in which she turns on us to protest, but finds that I insist she bend over the arm of the sofa, and that I hold her there while the pizza boy mounts her and takes her and shoots his jizz all over her bum and back. And then watches me in the same position, but with much more force, slap and pound and hold her by the hair and throat and shoulders and come inside of her.

I multiplied the scenarios all week long. In another I held Val's arms from behind in what we used to call a full Nelson while the pizza boy raised her dress and sucked her tits and lifted her onto his springing cock and pummeled her in imitation of me and (teenager that he was) came a second time. Or Val sucked and stroked that sleek young cock while I rhythmically penetrated her from behind. Or sat on that boy while I watched, until I drizzled lube down the crack of her bum and forced myself into her until she groaned out a desperate orgasm.

And the moral of the story is: the pizza boy fantasy lives. It's what you make of it. All I can say is that it still turns us on. And we're getting hungry again.

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