"Morning Mom," said Chris as he walked into the kitchen.
Heather, Chris' mother, turned and inspected her son with a grin on her face. "Well don't you look nice," she said.
"Oh yeah, just great," said Chris sarcastically. He laid the electronic PDA that he was carrying on the breakfast bar and then he turned about a couple of times with his arms out flung to show off his work clothes. He was wearing the uniform of a local delivery service. The tan safari shirt and shorts he was sporting were accented with red lettering and stripes. The clothes were meant to be loose fitting and comfortable, but they looked as if they were painted onto Chris' well-muscled physique.
Swaying her hips suggestively, Heather walked over to her son. She rested her hand on the swollen head of Chris' cock where it stuck above the waistband of his shorts and said, "Now this part of your appearance may not fit Mrs. Smith's Delivery Service's rules of dress."
Chris smiled as his mother rubbed the head of his cock as if she were polishing a wooden knob and said, "I sort of woke up with a problem this morning and it won't go away."
Heather snorted. "You seem to have this problem at all times of the day and night, and as much as I'd like to help you, I don't want you to be late for your first day of work." Chris had turned eighteen and this was to be his first day of work at a summer job before he started college.
Chris shook his head. "I've got plenty of time." He picked up the PDA. "All I have to do is sign in on this thing - it has a wireless Internet connection - and it tells the company that I'm ready to go. After that, they send me instructions. It even has a GPS receiver to tell them where I am."
Heather smiled and squeezed Chris' cock. "Isn't high tech wonderful?" she said. She smiled into his bedroom eyes. "It'll give us time for an early fuck."
Heather was wearing a fluffy cotton bathrobe, and from long experience Chris knew that the robe would be the only thing she was wearing. He parted the top of the robe and cupped her full breasts in the palms of his hands, at the same time he strummed her nipples with his thumbs. Heather shrugged off her robe and tossed it over a nearby stool. She grabbed her son's cock and pulled him across the kitchen where she hopped up onto a counter and spread her legs. Chris pushed his shorts and underpants down just in time for a gush of precum to wash over the head of his cock. He lubricated two of his fingers with the clear liquid and deftly spread it on the inner lips of his mother's pussy. He kissed her tenderly and Heather responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and thrusting her tongue into his mouth. In a couple of minutes Chris could tell by his mother's eager lips and rapid breathing that she had become as hot and horny as he had been since he'd awakened.
Heather sighed as Chris sunk the first half-dozen inches of his huge cock into her pussy. She leaned back against a cabinet and swayed her hips in time to his thrusts. She loved the way her son's cock filled her completely. It made her clit vibrate and massaged her g-spot at the same time. She began to orgasm almost immediately. Chris felt the pulling contractions of Heather's pussy around his cock. There was no reason for him to hold back so he began to fuck faster and faster.
Heather was in the middle of yet another extended cum when she saw Chris' eyes glaze over and his back start to arch. She knew that in another second or two cum would be squirting out of her pussy, coating her legs an probably dripping all over Chris' shorts. "Chris, honey," she said. "Don't cum inside me and make a mess."
"Uhhh... OK," was all he could manage to say as Chris withdrew his cock. With his shorts tight around the bulging muscles of his legs, Chris had to waddle backwards to escape from between his mother's thighs. His hand automatically began to jerk along the length of his erection as he sought some place to cum that wouldn't mean a long and messy clean up operation. He got turned toward the kitchen sink just as the first shot of milky-white stuff erupted from his cock, arced through the air and landed with a splat on target. That shot was followed by a dozen others and then Chris had to take little waddling baby steps ever closer to the sink as the volume and velocity of his ejaculations began to lessen. Finally Chris' cock was over the sink itself and he ran his hand down the length of his jutting monster in order to milk out the last dollop of cum. Even that last drop was more than an ordinary man would have produced altogether.
Chris grabbed a paper towel and began to clean off his wilting cock. He heard a sort of choking sound from the other side of the kitchen, and when he turned he saw his mother with her hand clasped over her mouth. She looked as though she was having some sort of fit. "Are you alright?" he asked.
His mother removed her hand and burst out in a fit of giggles. "You looked so funny," she gasped between fits of laughter, "waddling around like that, looking for someplace to shoot off." Now she practically cackled.
"Ha, ha, very funny," said Chris. He grabbed the sink's rinse hose and threatened his mother with its business end.
"Don't you dare," she said, trying unsuccessfully to sound like a stern parent. "I have to get ready for work." She jumped off the counter, grabbed her robe, and headed for the door to their dining room. The sight of his mother's tight, heart-shaped buns was too tempting a target though. Chris got her in the rear with a blast of cold water just as she was leaving the kitchen. Heather shrieked and ran from the room.
Chris finished cleaning the sink and checked in for work on his PDA. Immediately he was directed to a supermarket where he picked up several bags of groceries for a Mrs. Brown, who lived on the well-to-do side of town. He grabbed the keys for his company delivery van and headed out.
Chris turned off the residential road onto a paved drive that wound its way along side an acre-sized lawn. He pulled to the rear of a two-story house that looked large enough to hold most of the residents of his middleclass neighborhood. With his arms full of grocery bags, Chris walked to the delivery door and rang the bell. Shortly, a stooped little old lady who was wearing a cotton print dress and crisp apron answered the door. "I'm Mrs. Brown," she said. "Please come in."
Chris entered an immaculate kitchen and placed the groceries on an island counter in the center of the room. "Now it will just take me a minute to check the order," said Mrs. Brown. She slowly began to examine the contents of the bags.
Chris took one look at Mrs. Brown's arthritic hands as she struggled to lift a heavy can from one of the bags and he jumped to help. "Why don't you check off the items as I put them away for you?" he said.
"That's very nice of you," said Mrs. Brown. They chatted as Mrs. Brown verified her order and Chris put the groceries in their proper place in the nearby pantry. In the manner of sweet little old ladies everywhere she managed to learn his name, where he'd gone to grade school and where he was going to college, as well as his mother's name and the name of her business. When they were finished she said, "Wait right here, Chris. I'll be back in a minute." As she departed the kitchen into a short hallway a man passed her coming the other way. He was a pear shaped guy in his mid-twenties with spiky, blonde tipped hair and several earrings. "Chris, this is my grandson, Victor," Mrs. Brown called over her shoulder.
"Hi," said Chris.
"Hi," said Victor, and that was the extent of their conversation. An awkward silence ensued that was relieved only when Mrs. Brown returned.
"Here you are," she said, giving Chris a twenty-dollar bill.
Chris looked at the money. "You don't have to pay me, I'm sure the company bills you for the service."
Mrs. Brown laughed. "Don't be silly, it's your tip."
"Oh, thanks very much," said Chris, feeling a bit foolish as he put away the bill.
As Chris left her home, Mrs. Brown said, "You're a sweet boy, Chris. I'll be sure to ask for you next time."
He worked steadily through the day until about four when his PDA told Chris to report to Mrs. Smith at her office. Mrs. Smith's Delivery Service was housed in a nondescript one-story brick building. Most of the building was a warehouse fronted by a customer entrance and service counter. Chris parked his delivery van in the company lot and walked into the warehouse through the employee's entrance. Mrs. Smith's office was a walled off section of the warehouse, and when Chris knocked on the door he had to wait for a buzz to tell him that an electrically actuated lock had been opened.
Mrs. Smith was actually June Smith, a woman around forty years of age. She was tall and slim and wore her blonde hair in a business-like perm. Her very neatly arranged desk dominated the small office. When Chris entered she smiled at him and said, "Hello Chris, how did your first day go?"
"Hi," said Chris. "It went OK, I guess. There's nothing wrong is there?" He wondered if he'd screwed up someone's delivery.
June came from around her desk. She was wearing a navy blue, sleeveless dress with matching pumps. She motioned to a chair at the side of the desk. "No, nothing's wrong. Please have a seat."
Chris sat in the chair and June perched on the edge of the desk with her legs crossed. Her knees were practically under Chris' nose. They chatted for few minutes about Chris' day. He plastered a polite smile on his face and did his best to keep eye contact with June and not peek up her skirt. As June spoke, one of her pumps slipped off her heel and dangled on her toes. She bounced her foot up and down to emphasize certain points in the conversation and pretty soon the shoe flipped into the air and wound up on the floor. Chris politely bent over to retrieve her shoe, but June stuck her bare foot on his leg and said, "Never mind, I'll get it later." Her foot remained firmly planted on Chris' leg.
June cleared her throat and said, "Chris I know this is just a summer job for you, but there are a couple of things you can keep in mind to advance yourself around here." Chris raised his eyebrows as if to ask what she meant, and June continued, "You can be a conscientious worker, and you can make me happy." As she slid her foot onto Chris' crotch she said, "These two goals are not mutually inclusive, if you know what I mean."
It wasn't the first time that Chris had thought he was being seduced. And there wasn't much doubt in his mind about it now. June's toes were kneading his cock into a nice erection. Chris ran his fingertips up and down June's calf and said, "Well I think I know how to do a good job, but how do I make you happy."
She uncrossed her legs and spread them as wide as her dress would allow. She sighed and said, "Do what you're doing now, just do it a little higher." Chris' fingers roamed higher to the inside of her thighs and then onto the crotch band of her panties. She wiggled her ass on the desk, signaling Chris to move on. He obliged by standing and giving June a big wet kiss that she eagerly returned. Their tongues played around as Chris pulled her panties aside and slid two fingers into June's pussy. Chris wrapped an arm around her back and cupped a strong hand over her breast. He continued to finger fuck her until June's moans and clenching pussy told him that she was about to orgasm. At that point he stepped back. He was horny as hell and he needed that wet pussy for his aching cock.
June looked at him with lust-glazed eyes and said, "I guess you want to fuck me now."
He smiled and assured her, "Oh yeah."
June kicked off her other shoe and pulled down her panties. As she pulled her dress up around her waist she said, "OK, let's see what you got."
Chris knew how to let his cock make an entrance. He unfastened his shorts and then hooked his thumbs inside his shorts and underwear. He bent slightly at the waist and then in one motion he swept down his clothing and thrust out his hips. His huge cock sprang free of his clothing and thwacked into the side of June's leg.
She looked down in surprise and gasped, "Oh my god, what a cock!" She reached out and poked her finger at the long, thick shaft. "Is that for real?"
"It's real and it's really yours," said Chris. He bent his cock down and rubbed the head across June's clit and swollen pussy lips. He gave a little push and the head slipped into her slick opening.
June leaned backwards, until her hands supported her torso on the desktop. She watched as Chris slipped less than half his cock into her extended pussy and then she couldn't take it any more. "Oh fuck me with it now," she urged him.
Chris obliged. He humped her with a long smooth stroke that he knew he could keep up forever. June lay down on her desk with her eyes closed. She put the tip of one finger in her mouth and sucked on it like a little girl, and every few seconds her body would twitch or writhe about. Then her hips and thighs began to tremble and Chris felt her pussy muscles clamp around his cock. June did a sort of involuntary half sit-up off her desk, and Chris could see the outline of her straining stomach muscles. She made wheezing, gasping noises for almost a minute and then she collapsed onto the desk once more. There's one orgasm, Chris thought as he continued his machine like stroke. He kept it up until he knew that his boss was one very, very happy employer.
A week later Chris returned to Mrs. Brown's home with another load of groceries. After the food was all put away, Mrs. Brown said, "Do you have a minute to help my grandson with something?"
Chris shrugged. "Yes Ma'am, I guess so."
"He said that he needed help moving some furniture in one of the upstairs rooms," Mrs. Brown said as she led him to the foot of a flight of stairs. It'll be one of the rooms in the right wing. I'd show you, but I can't climb these stairs any more."
"I'm sure I can find it," said Chris as he started up the wide, curving staircase.
He turned right at the top of the stairs and started down a hallway that was lined with doors on either side. Midway down the hall he heard hip-hop music coming from an open door. Chris tapped on the doorframe and called out, "Hello?"
A good-looking woman in her early twenties appeared in the doorway. "Hi," she said with a smile.
"Oh, hey," said Chris. "I was looking for Victor? Mrs. Brown said he needed some help moving furniture."
"Oh you just missed him. He may not be back for an hour or so. I'm Angela," she said as she stuck out her hand. Angela was barely five feet tall and looked as if she might weigh a hundred pounds after a heavy meal. She was wearing hip-hugger shorts that had about an inch of inseam. Her sleeveless, knit top showed off her tanned shoulders and a bare midriff.
Chris' hand engulfed her tiny, soft one as they shook. "I'm Chris," he said.
She gestured into the room. "Since you're here, we could try to move this stuff. Victor assumed I was too small to help."
Chris stepped past Angela into the room. It contained a large canopy-bed and several pieces of matching furniture. The source of the music that he had heard in the hallway was a boom box situated on an ornate desk in a corner of the room. Both the music and its player seemed wildly out of place in the room full of elegant antique furniture.
"What did you want to move?" Chris asked.
Angela pointed to a chest of drawers. "I'd like to move that about four feet down that wall, and then move that vanity over in its place."
The chest of drawers looked substantial, but Chris and Angela - Chris mostly - shoved it into place without strain. The vanity, even with its attached mirror, was much lighter and they carried it across the room easily. "Well, not much to that," said Chris.
Angela laughed and said, "I guess not, especially when you've got muscles likes these." She tried unsuccessfully to squeeze Chris' bicep. "I guess it's silly to ask if you work out a lot."
Chris smiled as he did what all men do when a pretty woman touches their upper arms; he flexed his bicep into hard muscle. "I play a lot of sports. I guess I stay in pretty good shape."
Angela caressed the exposed skin of his thigh and said, "I can believe it. I've never felt such hard muscles."
Chris knew a leading line when he heard one. "Feel a little higher, it gets even harder."
Angela moved her hand upward until it found Chris' rapidly expanding cock. "Nice and thick too," she said. She slid her probing fingers along the length of Chris' cock as it began to reach its full potential. She moved her hand hesitantly; she couldn't believe what she was finding. Finally, her hand bumped into the bulging cock head. She cupped her hand around it like it was a rubber ball sitting in his pocket. "And so long... and so much thicker," she said in a husky voice.
"Would you like to see this uh... well developed muscle?" asked Chris.
"Oh yes," breathed Angela.
Chris pulled down his shorts and underwear. His not quite fully hard cock sort of rolled from one side of his body to the other. Then it lifted and straightened so that its head bobbed in the air at the same height as Angela's breasts.
"Oh wow," she said as one of her tiny hands held the pulsing shaft steady. She had only to bend her head to kiss the tip, and then she spread her lips and worked the spongy head into her mouth. There was no chance that she was going to get more of his big cock in her mouth. All she could do was twist and bob her head from one side to the other, but Chris made it obvious that he loved it.
"Mmmm... baby, that feels so good," he moaned. Chris ran his fingers through Angela's hair and then down her cheek and neck and on to her breasts. He cupped and caressed her tits. He could feel her nipples responding as they grew more pronounced against the palm of his hand.
Chris was thinking seriously about cumming in her mouth, when Angela lifted her head and grabbed his cock with both hands. She gave it a good tug and said, "Let's fuck on the bed."
"Sounds good to me," said Chris. He nearly fell on his face when he tried to pull off his shorts and to follow Angela over to the giant bed at the same time. Angela was naked on her hands and knees in the center of crisp, white sheets when Chris crawled onto the bed behind her. Her hips were already eagerly thrusting back and forth in the air. Chris had to steady her so that could slide his massive cock into her pussy. He had barely worked his cock head past her pussy lips, when Angela shoved her ass backwards and practically impaled herself on his cock. He didn't even have to move as she bucked and shoved her dripping pussy around on his rock-hard dick.
Angela reached out a hand and grabbed one of the bed pillows. She buried her face in its softness, and a second later Chris heard a muffled, high pitched wailing as Angela came. After a lengthy orgasm she came up for air and renewed her attempt to stuff even more of Chris' thick shaft into her pussy. She made little grunting sounds and then buried her face again for more screaming climaxes. Chris didn't want to cum inside of the young woman, but every time he tried to pull away Angela just moved with him and clamped her pussy muscles around him like a fist. Finally, Chris went over the edge and began to gush shot after shot of hot cum. His cock swelled and there wasn't any place for the milky-white stuff to go but to roll out of Angela's stuffed pussy and down her legs.
After they'd spent themselves, Chris and Angela fell over sideways on the bed. When they'd caught their breath Chris looked over her shoulder and saw Angela swirling her finger in the pool of their sex juices that had stained the pristine sheet. "Sorry I made such a mess," he said.
Angela scooped up some of the slick stuff in her fingers and let it drip off her fingers. "That's OK," she said dreamily. "You know, if Victor came three times a day for a week, he couldn't produce this much jism."
"Oh," was all that Chris could respond to that statement. He reluctantly got off the bed. "I guess I better get going," he said as he began to dress. "Mrs. Brown might wonder what's taking so long."
That seemed to jolt Angela. She sat up and said, "Look, don't mention me to Mrs. Brown. She doesn't approve of me being up here. I have to sneak in and out using the back stairs."
Chris shrugged, "That's cool with me."
He made his way downstairs where Mrs. Brown shoved a fifty-dollar bill into his hands. Chris protested that it was too much, but Mrs. Brown said, "You're a good boy, Chris. I'm sure that you performed your services well."
Chris beamed at the elderly woman. "Yeah, I had an impressive output up there."
Late in the afternoon of the next day Chris was resting at home after work. He had shed his tight uniform for the sloppiest clothes he owned, a triple extra-large sweatshirt and matching baggy sweatpants. He was watching TV when the doorbell rang. Chris went to the door and peeked out. He saw an attractive woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties with ash blonde hair. She was wearing a tailored business suit and she had a seriously heavy-duty bag slung over one shoulder. Chris assumed she was one of his mother's business associates.
He opened the door and said, "Hi, Mom's not home right now. Do you want to wait, or can I help you with something?"
"Is your name Chris?" she asked. Chris nodded and watched as the woman reached into her bag and pulled out a black leather wallet. She flipped it open to reveal a badge and photo-Id. "I'm Sergeant Glasson, and I'd like to ask you a few questions, please."
Chris couldn't imagine what the police wanted him for, but he invited the sergeant inside. They settled down in the living room and she pulled out a small notebook. "You work for Mrs. Smith's Delivery Service, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do."