When Jennyâs regular film courier, John, reveals how she has become the center of his sexual dream world, Jennyâs quiet existence is thrown into an arena of desire that she thought sheâd long since abandoned.
One unexpected, head swimming romp later, and Jenny is left wondering if her courier will ever visit her again, and if he does, will he mention the hot sex they had on her living room floor that Tuesday afternoon, or will he pretend that it hadnât happened?
When the following Tuesday arrives and John reappears on Jennyâs doorstep, the scene is set for a continuation of intensely kinky weekly meetings. There is only one problem. John really really isnât Jennyâs type…
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What the hell am I doing? Iâm a good girl; I just donât do things like this.
A tiny fraction of Jennyâs conscience screamed at her. The remainder of her brain sent her hands on a thorough exploration of the densely haired chest that had unexpectedly appeared from beneath her companionâs polo-shirt. The fact that Jenny had never liked men with hairy chests seemed irrelevant.
Standing in front of her, diving a hand under Jennyâs top, John squeezed her left nipple hard, wonderfully hard, making her squeal with pain-tingling gratification. Removing her shirt at top speed, John freed her breasts from their confinement.
Moving as if on auto-pilot, Jennyâs fingers visited the waistband of his trousers, but in her haste she couldnât get his belt undone. Rescuing her from her embarrassment with a smile, John mumbled something about it always being difficult to open and undid it himself. Jenny barely heard him as a neat pair of charcoal grey boxers appeared, swiftly followed byâOh My Godâthe most beautiful dick she had seen in years â perhaps ever.
As she knelt before him, the voice in Jennyâs head continued its rant, reminding her that she hated giving blowjobs. Since her first experience as a college student, she had liked neither the taste of cock nor the sensation of being gagged. Now, however, working on instincts sheâd never known she had, Jenny took John deep into her throat. She felt his fingers drag urgently through her knotty brown hair, raking her scalp as she greedily worked him around her mouth.
âHell, girl, have you any idea how often Iâve dreamt of you doing this?â John confessed. âNight after night I wank about you, about you holding me in your throat like this.â
Jenny was consumed with a perverse pride as she listened to Johnâs words, wondering if she should admit to the stolen moments sheâd spent alone with a silver vibrator and her own filthy imaginings â imaginings contrary to her normal fantasies, imaginings that often featured him.
His penis felt fantastic in her mouth, but the restless ache in Jennyâs pussy was becoming unbearable, and she pulled away, panting. The instant she let go of his shaft, John tugged her back to her feet and grasped her butt, kneading it in a way that would give her bruises for days to come, while kissing her as if his life depended on it.
Conveniently forgetting that she didnât like the feel of stubble against her skin, Jenny relished the burn of his unshaven face grazing her, scraping her cheeks as their lips and teeth clashed together.
Her head buzzed, her nipples were tickled by his chest hairs, and Jenny began to feel as if she were overdosing on desire. She badly wanted to slow everything down, but at the same time, she needed to go faster. She wasnât far from climax, and the mere idea of their illicit situation was enough to send Jenny to the very edge of orgasm.
Recognizing how close she was, John shoved his customerâs knickers unceremoniously to her ankles. âI want to see you on your hands and knees,â he ordered.
Sinking against the carpet as instructed, Jennyâs breathing snagged as she heard the sharp rip of a condom packet being opened. Seconds later, Jenny found her courierâs thick cock sliding into her from behind. She was about to tell him how fantastically full she felt when John wiped all coherent thought from Jennyâs head by jamming his thumb up her arse.
Nuzzling his mouth against Jennyâs neck, John thrust against her, holding her hips as they frantically moved together. Trembling, Jennyâs knees began to buckle and her elbows quaked. Seeing she was about to collapse to the floor, John eased out of her body and flipped her onto her back before plunging his dick inside her again. She clung onto his tattooed arms (ignoring her lifelong aversion to body art), relishing  the glorious warmth of her orgasm as he shot his spunk into her naked body.
As their breathing levels returned to normal, John knelt close to Jenny, teasing out the springy curls of her hair as he spoke. âIâm sorry Jen. I donât like just walking out on you, but I have to go. Iâm behind with my rounds.â
Jenny watched her courier dress with lightning speed, leaving in a flurry of promises and assurances that heâd return the following week.
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