About a year after I graduated college, I ended up taking this crap job delivering frozen food. Not exactly what I'd envisioned doing when they handed me my diploma, but an English degree in a bad economy isn't that helpful. The pay was lousy, the hours were long, and the benefits were pretty scanty. That being said, there ended up being one good thing about the job...
It was the middle of July, and I was glad for the opportunity to step into the back of the truck several times a day to get out of the heat. "One of the few perks of this job," I thought as I sat on a case of frozen pizzas, enjoying the feel of the icy air blowing over my sweat-soaked skin. Flipping through my paperwork, I saw that the next stop on the list was a new one, a residential delivery judging by the address. A pretty good-sized order, too. I moved all of it to the tail end of the truck, hopped out and climbed back into the cab, punched the address into the GPS, and off I went.
The stop was an older, five-story apartment building. I climbed back out into the sweltering heat, loaded the boxes on the handtruck, and lugged it into the lobby. It wasn't much cooler inside the building, and to my dismay I saw an 'Out of Order' sign taped to the elevator doors. "Goddammit," I muttered, double-checking the apartment number on the invoice - third floor, just my luck. I buzzed the customer's number.
"Hello?" came a woman's voice after a moment.
"Hi, got your frozen food delivery here. Is the elevator broken?"
"Yeah, sorry, it is. The stairs are through the door on your right, I'll buzz you in." Click.
I sighed heavily. "Shit, I hope this isn't going to be a regular thing," I grumbled, pulling the door open as the lock clicked.
Lugging 80 pounds of pizzas and TV dinners up three flights of a poorly-ventilated stairway in the middle of summer, as you might well imagine, is no picnic, and I was sweating like mad when I finally got to the third floor. I took a moment to catch my breath, thinking wistfully of my nice cold truck waiting out front, then wheeled the load down the hall to the right apartment and knocked on the door. "Just a second," came the woman's voice, and a few moments later the door opened.
She was, well, fat. Not chubby, plump, curvy, but fat; easily 400 pounds, I guessed. Not that she was hideous, by any stretch of the imagination - big brown eyes, glasses, a cute, round face, and what really caught my eye, enormous breasts. I've never been able to tell a woman's bra size by looking at her chest, so I couldn't say just how large, but these were massive, each as big or bigger than my head. She was dressed in a worn-looking pair of gym shorts and a faded t-shirt that was stretched tightly over the enormous expanses of chest and belly. It was immediately apparent that if there was a bra capable of supporting those titanic tits, she wasn't wearing it. I was suddenly grateful for the stack of boxes on my handtruck that covered the growing bulge in my pants. I somehow managed to tear my eyes away from her breasts to focus on her face.
"Hi, got it all right here," I said, indicating the condensation-drenched tower of frozen meals.
She smiled, a trifle awkwardly, dimples appearing on her fleshy face. "Oh, um, great. Thanks. Sorry you had to drag it all the way up here! Uhh, just leave it right inside the door?"
"Sure, no problem," I replied, silently willing my cock to settle down. She stepped aside to make room, signed the invoice, smiling shyly, and closed the door behind me as I stepped back into the hall.
"Goddamn..." I breathed softly, closing my eyes for a moment. I could still see those enormous boobs in my mind's eye, swaying and jiggling as she stepped aside. My reverie was interrupted by a thud and a curse from the other side of the door.
I knocked again. "Uhh, hello? Everything ok in there?"
"Owwwww fuck, my foot. The box slipped out of my hands when I picked it up," came the muffled reply.
"Anything I can do?" I asked hesitantly. The door swung open again, and I saw her leaning heavily against the frame, face contorted in pain. "Could... ow, shit, could you please put these in my freezer for me? I need to sit down," she groaned. Now, company policy said we weren't allowed into a customer's home... but it was our product that caused the injury, so it behooves me to make it up, right? And besides... I felt my pulse quicken at the thought of stealing another glance at those tits. "Sure thing, no problem," I told her, fighting to keep from sounding too eager.
"It's in the kitchen, right over there," the woman directed me, gesturing to her right. As I stepped inside, she turned and lurched painfully in the other direction. Her ass... my god, it was enormous. The best comparison I can come up with is a pair of beachballs crammed into a pair of men's 3XL shorts... and I do mean crammed. I could practically hear the seams straining as she waddled away, the fabric taut over those round globes of flesh, that huge ass undulating hypnotically with every step. I could feel the front of my pants getting tight again.