Sign for a second package

"Don't you have another package for me?" you inquire, doing your best to say it in a sweet and innocent voice.

The delivery man looks quite confused. "No, miss, I do not, I am sorry if you were expecting another package today, but this is the only one I have for you." He yammers on, trying to fill the awkward silence with words.

You give a long and pointed look at his crotch, where his cock is far to erect to go unnoticed. You look back at his face, and have the strong suspicion that he is blushing, though you can't really see it against his dark skin. He gulps.

"Why don't I just sign for the other package now, too," you murmer. You hand the clipboard back to the delivery man, who holds it with both hands, looking confused, but hold on to the little plastic stylus used to sign it. Slowly, you lower the hand holding the stylus to your side. Then, bending just your wrist, you push the stylus up underneath the t-shirt and about an inch into your wet pussy, keeping your eyes on the delivery man the whole time. Before he was fidgety, but now he is standing completely still, assumably in shock. Pulling the stylus out you, you lean against the delivery man, you breasts pressing against his lower chest through your shirt, your upturned nose almost touching his chin. You insert the tip of the stylus between his lips, and with minute, languid strokes, "sign" your name, your juices leaving faint shimmering trails on his lips.

Leaving the stylus inserted between his lips, you lower your hand, and slide yourself down his body, dragging your breasts down against his stomach, waist and thighs as you descend to you knees. The delivery man stands bolt upright, knees unlocked, still as a statue. Fortunately for you and the delivery man both, you are now hidden from view from any passers-by. Your front door is tucked in the corner of a house wall and the garage, with an overhanging eave and a small flagstone patio bordered by square-trimmed shrubs that rise to a height of approximately four and a half feet. From the street, all that anybody could see is the delivery man's shoulders and head.

You unzip the fly on the man's khakis, and reach inside his pants and boxers to guide his member free. As soon as it is free, it continues its growth, blood expanding to fill it out to a length and firmness not allowed in the tighter confines of his pants. While his cock is not freakishly large, it is still longer and thicker than any you have yet encountered in your high school trysts.

Thinking about what you have seen in pornographic films in the past, you lightly grip the tip of the cock, and run your tongue all the way around and up and down the shaft, moistening its length. As you do so it grows firmer and firmer, until it no longer bends slightly in your grip. You spit on it a couple of times, then encircle the shaft with your other hand, and run it up and down the shaft, rubbing in the saliva. You let go of the tip of the cock, and take it into your mouth. With your lips lightly ringing the crown of the head of his cock, you run your tongue around the head in circles as you slowly pump the shaft with your hand. You lick the underside of the head of the cock as well, knowing that it is more sensitive.

Above you, the delivery man groans slightly in pleasure. Judging from the firmness of his erection, you guess that very much more of this activity will lead quickly to an orgasm. Certainly, there is nothing wrong with that, but as you stroke and suck you muse about other things that you could do with this strapping young man.