All characters are 18 years of age and older.
Pizza, for some reason, doesn't quite rank among the world's most erotic foods. Chocolate? Luscious. Strawberries? Lustful. Oysters? An aphrodisiac. Whipped cream? Downright nasty.
But pizza...I certainly never gave it much sexual thought until that fateful day. After that day, suddenly I was all too eager to feel his thick cock inside of me as I stared at the display case of margherita pizza slices. The scent of tomato sauce made me wet. It was a Pavlovian response, and it all started on a spring day.
My mother thought it was about time I got a summer job, and she marched me downstairs to the new pizza shop down the block.
"Hello, James, this is my daughter," she said. Of course she knew the man already. I was resenting the intrusion into my nice summer of writing and reading and walking in the park, my last summer before college. Of course she had to go and ruin my carefully laid plans.
I'm thankful now. But I wasn't, then. Not until I saw James. I'm not ashamed to say that I felt my clit tingle for just a moment when he stood up and shook my hand. Six feet tall and thirty-seven years old, with dark auburn hair and a nicely trimmed dark auburn beard. Muscled, tattooed arms that were all too apparent in his tight blue t-shirt. I was glad I was wearing a mask.
"Very nice to meet you," he said, giving me a firm handshake. The eye contact was killing me. He had piercing blue eyes that locked onto mine and turned my stomach into trembling mush.
"Nice to meet you too," I said sweetly, "I'm Valeria."
"That's a lovely name," he said kindly. God, his deep voice was making my ovaries do backflips.
"Yours is lovely too," I said.
"Oh," he said with a rumbling laugh that made me want to drop to my
knees right there, "It's a good name. Strong. Biblical."
God, I really didn't want him to be too religious. I wanted him to fuck me, and then and there, I set out to make it happen.
Let me be really clear here. Readers, when I say I wanted him to fuck me, I really mean that I wanted him to grab me by the throat and bend me over. I wanted him to tear off my panties and thrust his cock into my wet cunt. I wanted him to slap my face and growl and whisper filthy things in my ears in that deep, friendly voice of his. I wanted to feel those nice muscular hands grasping my thighs. I wanted to feel his calloused fingers sliding into my pussy and fingering my g-spot until my legs gave out.
I was a virgin who had thoroughly explored her body, thanks to the Internet. I was also pretty hot. 5'6, caramel skin, curly black hair down to my waist. B-cup, slim waist, and an ass that would put the peach emoji to shame. I was also teetering just on the edge of 'legal,' and he was teetering on the edge of forty. Oh well. Like I always say, one of the best things about this world is that almost all humans of sexual maturity have sex in common, and there's really nothing like enthusiastic, consenting lust. Pure animal lust, pure fucking want.
But. I was working in a pizza shop. In the summer. I was a virgin with an overbearing mother, and the way he looked, I was sure he already had a girlfriend or five. So I kept my head down and sliced the pepperoni pizza and rang up change in the cash register and 'Hi-what-can-I-get-for-you'-ed my way through the long hours. James was rarely there, since he was the owner and owned several pizza shops throughout the city. And when he was there, he was nothing but polite to me. Unfailingly polite. Very nice. He never fucking touched me. Which, I suppose, was only to be expected in a workplace, but Jesus. Every night, I lay in bed, spread my legs, and pretended that he was rubbing my clit. I'd circle my swollen little bud, forcing myself to go slow. So slow. I'd drag it out, trying to quiet my labored breaths and moans, and when I couldn't stand out, I'd slide two fingers into my dripping pussy and squirt all over my bed.
Fun times. But nothing was happening, and I desperately wanted to lose my virginity to James. So, I devised a three-step plan to get what I wanted from him.
Step One
The best thing about summer was that any scanty clothing would fit right in. On the day before I started to carry out my plan, Maya, my coworker, got a call that James would be coming in the next day.
"I can't believe I have to clean the back room just because he's coming," I whined.
"Oh yeah, girl, and he's gonna be spending the whole week here."
I could've jumped for joy, but instead I let out a disgusted sigh and grabbed the mop. The back room would suit my purposes just fine. It was a windowless room filled with spare pizza boxes and cleaning supplies, all piled onto the gray sofa. I copiously scrubbed every inch of the room and shoved the boxes and supplies into the broom closet. Maya never used the back room, preferring to visit her girlfriend across the street during her breaks, so I put a convenient box of toys under the sofa. I had saved part of my paycheck for ages to afford them. Just looking at them made me want to slide my hand into my jeans and finger myself. I was insatiable. I had already taken one of the bullet vibrators into the bathroom and pretended to have menstrual cramps. I made myself cum for fifteen minutes, trying not to moan around my panties that I had shoved in my mouth, desperately wanting James to walk in.
But I digress. I cleaned the back room and then I went home. When I took my shower that day, I made sure to shave my pussy carefully, sighing as the blade slid around my clit. I set out my clothes for the next day- white lacy bra and matching panties with a little pink bow on them. Red shorts that were cut perilously high, and a white t-shirt that was cut perilously low. White Converse wedges. Thank God for workplaces without dress codes.
I liked the way everything looked at me as I walked down the street to the pizza shop. I let my hips sway as I strutted in my obscenely short shorts, my breasts jiggling through my nearly see-through t-shirt. I was sure some nosy neighbor would tell my mother how I was walking around dressed like a whore, but I wasn't too worried. By the time that happened, my plan would be well underway. Everyone was getting an eyeful of my long legs and my curly ponytail that reached my butt, drawing more attention to that lovely asset of mine.
James was waiting by the pizza shop doorway, idly scrolling on his phone. He looked up and I caught the look of lust and shock that crossed his face as I walked towards him. Mmm, it was delicious. If I had any guts at all, I would've squeezed past him without saying anything, pressing my ass unnecessarily against his crotch. But I was, and still am, a lily-livered coward.
"Hi James," I said sunnily, feeling a blush rise to my face. Walkin down the street had been the easy part. But now I was standing in front of him, with his piercing blue eyes looking me up and down. I started to sweat, all of my insecurities crashing down on me as he stared.
"Hello Valeria," he said finally, not taking his eyes off of me, "Maya called in sick today, so it'll just be you and me working."
"What a shame," I said, "I hope she feels better soon."
But not too soon. James and I worked the entire day in near silence.
Kitchen spaces are small behind the counter, and I brushed against him all day long, never quite looking at him as I did. Deep down, I was terrified, though. Terrified that he wasn't attracted to me, that he wouldn't want to sleep with me, that I was making a fool of myself for no reason.
Towards closing time, though we started to chit chat.
