Door Dash Ch 03

It was my sister who put me onto this lurk. Simple deliveries, with the store paying my fee and any tips are over and above that. My sister actually got a hundred dollar tip from someone. Yeah, I could just see someone tipping me like that.

My sister was a pretty girl with an entourage of hopefuls following her around. Me, I was a twenty year old man, fit enough, but I wouldn't stand out in a crowd. Still, I joined Door Dash and went to work.

I ran into one of the drawbacks almost immediately. My sister owned a small girl sized car and took small girl sized deliveries. I was a man with a pickup truck and got hefty goods to deliver. Still, it paid well.

One day I had to deliver some dining chairs. Heavy bastards, too. I took them to the nominated address and quite a shack it was. Two stories and sprawling out. Two door garage as well. A very nice place.

I rang the bell and a young woman answered. Now it was getting on to lunchtime but this woman looked as if she'd just got up. Hair very casually brushed and wearing a peignoir. This didn't detract from the fact that she was a blue-eyed blonde with an excellent figure. I pointedly ignored that.

"Door Dash" I told her. "I have some chairs for you."

"Oh, good. Can you bring them through, please?"

Another difference between my sister's deliveries and mine. She could drop hers at the door, never entering the place. Me, I had to lift that barge, tote that bale. Or chairs in this case.

I started carrying them in, one at a time. Too heavy to take two. I could have done it but it would have increased the chances of scratching one of them. The woman had already informed me that if I scratched one I'd have to go back and get a replacement.

I stoically carried the chairs in, taking care not to notice the generous cleavage to the peignoir, or the fact that it was slit up the side. Way up the side. Another thing I carefully didn't notice was the way her breasts bounced, flashing the sides in her cleavage.

With the chair positioned and photos taken to demonstrate their unscratched condition I prepared to take my leave.

"I bet you're wondering what I look like without this on," she suddenly said, giving her peignoir a twitch.

"No, ma'am," I said politely.

"No! What do you mean, no?"

"Just that. Doing that would lead to a whole string of events. Better not to start on that track."

"What events? What are you talking about?"

"If I was to imagine you without the peignoir I'd naturally make allowances for the fact that you're not wearing bra or panties. In other words I'd be imagining you naked. Following on from that I would want to prove my conjecture correct and to do that I'd have to take off your peignoir. With me so far?"

She nodded, looking somewhat taken aback. I smiled and continued. Being a healthy young man with a healthy libido if I see a naked young lady in front of me I would just naturally have to touch to make sure all those luscious curves are real.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Of course I would. And it wouldn't end there. Once I started touching I'd follow things to their natural conclusion and treat you the way a woman should be treated."

I smiled gently. "Now that you mention it it's probably rude for me not to wonder what you look like under that peignoir."

I reached over and pushed the peignoir off one shoulder and then the other. It promptly fell down each arm in turn as I brushed it off the shoulder. I had been quite right about the lack of a bra. Her breasts were high and firm, her nipples pointing at me.

I reached and touched them, cupping them while my thumbs rolled her nipples around.

She gave me an enigmatic look.

"You shouldn't be touching me like that," she protested.

"True," I agreed. "I'll change things around."

With that I twitched the bow of the peignoir's belt and the peignoir slithered to the floor, leaving her standing there naked.

"It seems you were a little silly to tease me, doesn't it."

"Don't you dare touch me," she said. It sounded like something that she thought she should say but there was no honest conviction in her voice. Reaching down I cupped her pussy and gently squeezed.

"I said don't touch me," she gasped.

"I know. I heard you, but you didn't really mean it," I said, continuing to stroke her intimately.

She finally moved away from me, backing up until she was leaning back against the table. I just moved closer, my hands happily wandering over her body. I was nicely aroused, my erection standing tall and clamouring to be set free.

"You have to stop touching me," she said, starting to sound a little desperate.

"I can do that," I said agreeably. "I assume you remember what follows the touching?"

She gave me a blank look, not having any idea as to what I meant. I unzipped and let the monster loose. She looked at what I had and a look of lust flashed across her face, to be followed by a neutral look.

"You wouldn't dare," she snapped.

"Funny, you said that when I started stripping you, but here you are, naked."

She glared at me, something I ignored. Hands on her waist I lifted her and sat her on the table, spreading her legs wide. Moving closer I eased her lips apart and applied a little pressure. Any serious resistance and I wouldn't be going anywhere.

Resistance? Her legs went around me, tightening and pulling. I slid into position with no problems whatsoever. I sank in deep, her legs continuing to pull me in. I was so involved with this that I didn't notice what she was saying at first.

It was not a case of 'yes, yes, yes. Do it harder'. She was saying 'no, no, no. How can you do this to me? You're an animal.' A fine commentary from someone who was doing more than her fair share.

I was tempted to listen to her protests and withdraw - not strongly tempted but the thought was there. The thought died still born. The way her legs were wrapped around me I'd have had to use a crowbar to separate us. Having no choice I continued. I was quite happy to do so.

I thrust hard into her, setting up a nice rhythm which she matched effortlessly. It was obvious to me that she was way more experienced at this sort of thing than I was. Her protests continued, not loudly, in fact barely more than a whisper, but protest she did. I was tempted to laugh at the absurdity of it, her practically raping me and complain complaining it was all me in charge.

Despite the distraction of her voice buzzing on and on I kept manfully to the job on hand. The longer we went at it the louder her voice started to get until she clapped a hand to her mouth, muffling all sound. About that time I got to work in earnest, driving in faster and faster, her moving with me up to the point when she froze and climaxed, both hands clapped to her mouth so I barely heard her scream.

She was shaking from her climax, so absorbed in what she was doing I don't think she even noticed me climaxing and ejaculating deep inside her.

We separated and I tidied myself up while she gasped and snatched up her peignoir and slipped it on. Before I could say anything she was pushing me out of the room and towards the front door keeping one eye on the stairs as she did so. It slowly registered that there was someone else in the house.

"Husband?" I asked pointing up.

"Husband," she assented, snatching up her purse from a side table. "Here. Make sure you keep your mouth shut." She stuffed something into my pocket and practically slammed the door in my face.

Getting into the pickup I checked my pocket and found a fifty. A very nice tip for a simple delivery. Driving to my next delivery I found myself wondering. If I got fifty for a delivery with extras, what did my sister do that earned her a hundred?