Pizza delivery

The door creaked open, and you could already feel the heat creeping up your neck. Every muscle in your body screamed at you to disappear, to find some way to cover yourself, but it was too late. You were standing there, wearing nothing but a G-string that barely contained you, and the moment you locked eyes with the pizza girl, you knew—this was about to get so much worse.

She was stunning. Big, bright green eyes, full lips curled in the slightest smirk, and a high ponytail that bounced when she shifted her weight. Her uniform hugged her curves perfectly—tight polo, short shorts that barely reached mid-thigh, and a name tag pinned right above her chest: "Dani."

For a single, fleeting moment, you thought maybe she’d be flustered. Maybe she’d blush, look away, and just try to get through the transaction.

She didn’t.

Her gaze dipped immediately—straight to the bulge barely contained by the thin stretch of fabric. Her smirk grew. "Well, well," she purred. "That’s one hell of a tipper’s outfit."

Laughter burst from behind you. Cassie actually wheezed, clinging to Brooke’s arm for support.

You felt your stomach twist into knots. "Just—just give me the pizza."

Dani tilted her head, her green eyes practically sparkling. "Oh, you’re in a hurry? Shame. I was kinda enjoying the view."

Your fingers twitched at your sides. You tried to subtly shift, angling your hips slightly, but it was useless. The G-string didn’t hide anything—it only framed it, and the more you tensed, the more obvious that became.

"Pizza?" you repeated, trying to keep your voice even.

Dani gave a faux pout. "You’re no fun. Here—" She lifted the stack of pizzas from her warming bag, holding them just out of reach. "But I can’t just hand them over, you know. Not without making sure I have everything right."

Your jaw clenched. "What does that mean?"

She flipped open the receipt. "Says here… three large pizzas, extra toppings, paid in advance, very generous tip." Her grin widened. "And, oh, a special note: ‘Make sure our delivery girl gets a memorable experience.’"

Your breath caught in your throat.

Brooke howled. "Oh, sugar, I could just die!"

Cassie wiped away actual tears. "This is the best thing I’ve ever seen!"

Dani ignored them, eyes fixed on you. "So… are you gonna be a good boy and take your pizza? Or are we just gonna stand here, making awkward conversation about how tight your little outfit is?"

Your hands shot out instantly, grabbing for the boxes.

Dani pulled them back. "Uh-uh. Hands out. You gotta hold the whole stack."

You hesitated. Holding the boxes meant using both hands—leaving yourself completely exposed. You swallowed hard, but you didn’t have a choice. Jaw tight, you reached forward, taking the full stack.

The moment the weight settled into your grip, Dani’s eyes dropped again, this time completely uninhibited.

Her lips parted slightly. "Wow."

Heat burned through your face. "Just—sign whatever you need to sign."

Dani didn’t move. She was stalling. Lingering. Letting her eyes drink in every humiliating inch.

"You know, most of the time, I don’t even see the customers. It’s just drop-off and go. But I gotta say…" She let out a low whistle. "I don’t hate this setup."

Your pulse hammered in your ears.

She wasn’t even hiding it now—her eyes were fixed on your cock, watching how it twitched inside the tiny pouch, barely restrained by the too-thin fabric. And you could feel it—every single pulse, every involuntary strain against the G-string, every humiliating reaction she was witnessing.

Then Dani clicked her tongue. "Oh! Almost forgot. Company policy says I need a photo for delivery proof. You know, for records."

Your stomach plummeted. "What?"

Dani shrugged. "Gotta send it in. Just you, standing there, holding the pizzas. No big deal."

Laughter roared from inside the house. Brooke was crying. Cassie was kicking the floor.

You **** yourself to stay still. You couldn’t react. You couldn’t let yourself twitch or flinch again.

Dani lifted her phone. "Smile for me, pizza boy."

The camera clicked.

And then—

A sharp tug.

Your stomach dropped. Your G-string was yanked down in one swift motion.

A gasp ripped from your throat.

Air hit your cock instantly—completely bare, fully exposed, hard as a rock, twitching in the open.

The phone flashed.

Dani took the picture.

Dani let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Best tip I’ve ever gotten."

And then you realized—there were cameras everywhere.

Recording. Broadcasting. Capturing every angle of your humiliation. Streaming to God-knows-how-many women across the world.

But the one that concerned you the most, for whatever reason, belonged to a young, attractive girl called Dani.

Mia giggled behind you, her voice dripping with amusement. "Aww, look at that. Dani got you so worked up, you couldn’t even keep your little prize. Guess that means she wins this round. No one said the game had ended, silly!"