Chapter 1- THE DELIVERY

That evening, I was alone in the big bedroom of the mansion, legs spread wide on the soft sheets. My hand moved fast between my thighs. Two fingers pushed deep inside my pussy, then pulled out slick and wet. I rubbed my clit hard in tight circles. My other hand squeezed my breast, pinching the nipple until it hurt just right.

It wasn’t enough.

I needed a real dick stretching me open. Thick. Hard. One that would not quit after a few strokes. My body remembered that feeling too well. The toys in the drawer could never match it. I closed my eyes and tried to picture one of those long sessions from before, the kind that left me shaking for hours. My fingers worked faster. The wet sounds filled the quiet room. I felt the pressure build low in my belly.

Then it hit.

I came hard, squirting all over the sheets and my hand. The warm liquid soaked the bed under me. My legs shook and I kept rubbing through it, chasing more, but the empty feeling stayed. I lay there breathing heavy, thighs sticky and clenched together, still needing something bigger inside me.

Then the doorbell rang.

I froze. Was it my delivery? I had ordered some things earlier and forgotten the time. My legs were still wet when I sat up. I grabbed the towel from the chair, wrapped it loosely around my body, and walked down the hall. Each step made my thighs slide against each other. I could feel my own mess drying on my skin.

I opened the front door.

A young man stood there holding a package. Handsome. Maybe mid-twenties. Dark hair, strong arms under his short-sleeve shirt, and a polite smile that faded a little when he saw me in just the towel.

“Package for the house,” he said, holding it out as he called my address name.

I took it. Our fingers touched for a second. That small contact sent a fresh wave of heat straight between my legs. The urge rose fast and sharp. I looked at him longer than I should have.

“Thanks,” I said. My voice came out lower than usual. “Hey… can you help me with something inside real quick? There’s this thing in the back room that needs moving and I can’t do it alone.”

He hesitated. “I’m not really supposed to—”

“It’ll only take a minute,” I cut in. “Please.”

He nodded and stepped inside. I closed the door behind him and led the way down the hall. My towel slipped a little lower with every step. I did not fix it. We reached the bedroom. The sheets were still messed up and damp in the middle. He stopped near the door and looked around.

I turned to face him, then let the towel fall to the floor.

His eyes dropped straight to my body. Naked. Wet thighs. Hard pointed nipples. I watched his throat move as he swallowed.

I walked over, dropped to my knees right in front of him, and reached for his belt. He did not stop me as my fingers worked the buckle open, then the button and zipper. I pulled his pants and boxers down together. His cock sprang out already half hard. Thick. Longer than my husband’s. I wrapped my hand around it and stroked once, feeling it grow stiffer in my grip.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

I leaned in and took him into my mouth. Warm. Salty. I sucked the head first, then pushed deeper, letting him hit the back of my throat. My tongue worked the underside while my hand stroked what I could not fit. He groaned and put a hand in my hair. I kept going for a few minutes, bobbing my head, making it wet and messy, spit running down to his balls. I pulled off with a soft pop and looked up at him.

“Don’t hold back,” I said. “I need it hard.”

I stood, turned around, and bent over the side of the bed. Hands flat on the mattress. Ass out. I reached back and spread myself open for him so he could see how wet I still was.

“No mercy,” I told him over my shoulder. “Fuck me faster than a moving train at high speed.”

He stepped up behind me. The thick head of his cock pressed against my entrance. One strong push and he sank all the way in. I gasped. The stretch burned in the best way. He filled me completely, deeper than anything I had felt in months. My walls clenched around him right away.

He started thrusting. Hard and fast. The sound of skin slapping filled the room. Each stroke drove me forward on the bed. I pushed back to meet him, wanting every inch. My tits swayed under me. The wetness from earlier mixed with new arousal and dripped down my thighs.

“Harder,” I moaned. “Don’t stop, you are not as fast as I told you to be.”

He grabbed my hips and slammed into me with more force and speed. The bed creaked. My moans got louder. I could feel another orgasm building already, stronger than the one from my fingers. He kept that same brutal pace, like he really would die if he slowed down. Sweat started on my back. His hands dug into my skin. I was lost in it, eyes half closed, mouth open, taking every deep stroke.

Then the door opened.

I turned my head just in time to see my husband standing there. Frozen. Staring straight at me pinned against the edge of the bed with the delivery man’s cock still buried deep inside me, still moving.