3 comments/ 56284 views/ 8 favorites Alicia's Last Delivery By: gossog Alicia Vicario backed her Reliable Xpress truck into the loading area, a maneuver she could do in her sleep, and hopped out. Lenny was there, pushing a hand cart; he always seemed to be just finishing up one task, on the way to another. He gave her body a quick sweeping glance from head to toe, also a habit; then smiled and stood the cart up. "Hey, Leash. How's the outside world?" "Hot." The morning had been tolerable; the afternoon probably wouldn't, even with the truck door slid open to let in a breeze. "Any weirdoes today?" "Nah, kinda boring." Encountering new people, even for a few moments while delivering a package, was her favorite part of the job. Some of the things she saw in the more eccentric customers, or a quick peek through the front doorway, made some great stories for the guys back at the warehouse. She much preferred being on the road to staying inside all day. "Truck 14's loaded, if you wanna take her out," Lenny said. "I'll take lunch first." She walked toward the break room, and he followed. Mitch caught up to them, sipping from his can of off-brand cola. Alicia had tried it once, though it probably had several household uses, she told him, drinking wasn't one of them. Mitch had some news: "You hear Johnston's doing another backyard bash? Sometime in September." Alicia said, "You're kidding. We just had one!" This was the company owner's annual employee barbecue, held at his house. Barely six weeks had passed since the last one. "You wanna know why?" Lenny said. She laughed. "I think I already know." Reliable Xpress employed twenty-six men and two women: a driver -- Alicia -- and the receptionist, a pretty young thing, all skinny and leggy with long hair like spun gold, a toothpaste-commercial face, and a pair of tits that just commanded a man's attention. Her behind-the-back nickname, "Barbie", was so ingrained that it took a conscious effort, when speaking to her, to use her real name. Barbie favored short skirts and tight tops with low necklines, with a few wispy sundresses mixed in. She might have worn a bra fifty percent of the time, and the outcome of that decision was always apparent. Barbie did a good job, but sometimes that was almost beside the point. Johnston had hired her (discovered her in a Hollywood diner, Alicia liked to think), the customers loved her, and the guys at work adored her. They didn't even seem to resent the fact that she was very much taken, and spread framed photos of her boyfriend around her desk like a farmer would use scarecrows. Even Alicia liked her; Barbie would ask for advice time to time, and offer some juicy tidbits about her own personal life, after a pledge not to tell the guys. Barbie had started in January, so Johnston's July party was her first. The guys had no illusions about hooking up with her, but figured they'd get to meet the lucky bastard who got to share her bed. Instead, she showed up alone, in tiny white shorts and a candy apple red bikini top. As she walked into the back yard, all conversation just trickled to a stop. Her outfit was certainly deliberate; she wasn't as naive as she pretended to be. If her goal was to be the center of attention, then mission accomplished. What really made the party memorable was Barbie's decision, after a couple of tropical drinks mixed at Johnston's bar, that it would be a fine afternoon to take off her top, lie back, and soak up some rays. She uncovered a pair of lovely, round breasts with cute pink nipples. Even the skimpy pair of shorts apparently covered too much, and she slipped her long legs out of those, revealing, like a magic trick, the matching bikini bottom to that discarded top. She was never touched -- the guys knew better than to mess with company property -- but had no shortage of flirting, drink service and outright staring. The prospect of a repeat, of a nearly nude Barbie sunbathing again, was the reason Johnston's next annual backyard bash was going to be held a mere six weeks after the last. Mitch wore a disturbing smile. "Man, I hope she takes everything off this time." Alicia scoffed, and Lenny said, "Son, you always say one thing too many." "Don't tell me you ain't all thinking that," he said. "Except you, Leash." "You wouldn't be able to handle it," Alicia said. "Your head would explode." "Which head?" Lenny laughed. "I'd be cool," Mitch insisted. "Remember when she wore that sundress?" Alicia said. "You walked around in a daze, like you had seen the face of God or something." "You weren't there," Mitch said, now serious, already reliving the scene. "It was early morning, sun coming up over the hill, and she went around to the front window, reaching up to take down the shades. That sun shone right through the dress like it wasn't even there." Alicia scowled. "Hope you washed your hands afterward." Lenny laughed. "How about you, Leash. You wanna join her this time?" "Only in your dreams." She figured she co-starred with Barbie in several of these dreams, and not just Mitch's either. It was better never to know the details. "And you know... if we could hire one good-looking guy, even just one, instead of you scrubs -" Lenny scowled. "Aw, Leash, you're killing us," he chuckled. "- then maybe I might consider it." Lenny placed his hand over his chest. "Our beauty is on the inside." "Yeah, you just have to get to know us," Mitch said. "I already do, that's the problem," Alicia said. "See ya later." In the break room, Barry, her boss, was pouring himself a coffee. He looked her up and down, a quick motion that was probably unconscious habit by now. "You oughta undo another button," he said, glancing at her chest. "It's a hot day. Let 'em breathe." She grinned. "The day I see you guys in boxers, boss." He walked out, and she had the room to herself. Being the first and only female driver meant there was no uniform, and management (probably Barry himself) had to put one together right after she was hired. Her colors and insignia matched the men's uniforms, but otherwise her outfit was distinctive. Where a guy's shorts extended nearly to the knee, hers ended just about where her legs (and decency) began. Her shirt had shorter sleeves and a more curvy fit than the men's, and the top button was missing; there was a buttonhole, but the button itself had been surgically removed. That second button Barry always suggested undoing was right at chest level. Her breasts were a little larger than Barbie's, and she showed plenty enough cleavage as it was. Barry had made a rough guess at her size, and maybe deliberately tucked it in a smidgen; she'd had to lose exactly six pounds before the uniform was really comfortable to wear, and it still fit snugly. She often wondered what her job would be like as the only woman, without Barbie to divert the men's attention. She was certainly plainer looking by comparison. Still, during one happy hour get-together (she didn't go to many of those), Steve had confided that he found her just as sexy as Barbie, that there was nothing wrong with a woman a little shorter with a little more meat on her bones. She'd accused him of wearing beer googles with an old prescription, and snuck away to another table. Was Alicia better off under Barbie's cover... or were Barbie's suggestive, teasing outfits just getting the guys more worked up? Sometimes it reminded her of growing up with Gloria, her prettier sister, back in Arkansas. Gloria was still there, delivering for the postal service. Life at Reliable Xpress wasn't bad at all, though. As long as the guys didn't cross the line too often; as long as she could tease back as much as they teased her; as long as she had their fundamental respect, this job was fine. Some of what she put up with would be unacceptable to others, but she wasn't out to set an example for the rest of womankind. Though she rarely attended social functions outside of work -- she liked to keep those lives separate -- she considered the guys her friends. She climbed into truck 14, switched the radio from that talk station Gordy got all his news from, and drove back out into the real world. She was looking forward to a cross-section of humanity, a variety of people, and those rare houses where she could feel the strangeness waft out the open door as people signed for their packages. After each stop, though, she got the feeling the afternoon would probably be a bust. Nothing but the prosaic: moms with babies in arms, and toddlers clinging to legs; husbands surprised their wives had spent something; skinny 20-year-olds in gym shorts and the scent of marijuana. The weirdest one she met was an old guy in '80s style UCLA gym shorts and black socks. Nothing so far had even come close to her all-time strangest stops: a nude college-age girl, red-haired with a little baby fat and a shaved pussy, answering the door on a dare from some guys laughing in the other room; an otherwise normal lady who appeared to be running a chinchilla kennel in the living room; a guy wearing only a T-shirt kissing another guy who was naked (they were both in excellent shape, nice hard cocks, and quite good-looking overall; that was probably her favorite stop of all). And there were the solo naked guys, the practical jokers. Eight of them so far, all thinking it would be pretty funny to answer the door in the buff. Alicia wondered how they would have known the only lady at Reliable Xpress would be the one showing up. Or if that mattered at all. Her last stop of the day was in "Rancho Blanco" -- the rich part of the city, up in the hills beyond the 305 freeway. She found the place, among a colony of identical-looking perfectly-groomed house. Belonged to a woman named Deborah Proll. The package was in a plain brown box, but Alicia recognized the return address: the distributor for Daphne's Daydreams, the lingerie place. Oh well. At least she'd find out if Debbie was as cute as Barbie or not. Maybe she'd want to try it on. Even in the toniest sections of town, stranger things had happened. She parked the truck and walked up. * * * Lewis Proll cursed as the doorbell rang, interrupting him. His wife? Probably not; even though it was nearly two in the afternoon. Deborah had left last night's party with another man, and was likely still enjoying herself. Mental images of what she might be doing both agonized and aroused him. The party was for her office, and few spouses had come along; it seemed Lewis knew no one there, and Deborah knew everyone. He'd hung back to watch as she flirted and cavorted with young men in expensive suits. Had his wife not been obviously welcoming their attention and teasing, she might have looked vulnerable in her miniskirt and sleeveless top, surrounded by eager men. As the night progressed, she wore even less; her top taken off, bra gone, panties lost, and even the skirt. The low point might have been when she climbed naked out of a hot tub and sucked the dick of a too-handsome cad named Nick; or maybe it was when she announced he was taking her home. Nick was fondling her breasts and fingering her pussy as she tried to speak; she was tipsy, giggling, horny, and naked. He drove home alone, carrying her discarded clothes collected by the apologetic hostess. The chime of the doorbell faded. Lewis figured Deborah at this moment was still naked. Funny thing, so was he. Since last night, his anger, despondency, shame and arousal had bubbled into a full-blown erotic obsession. He couldn't count how many times he had already jerked off to the vivid scenes of his wife's debauchery, and what he luridly imagined she might be doing now. The first time was in his car as he drove home; the next, shortly after he had entered the empty bedroom, after stripping his clothes and tossing them with hers in a corner. In bed, he masturbated once more before going to sleep. The next morning he jerked off in the shower; and as he toweled off, he recalled how Deborah had looked, pulling Nick's cock out of his trunks and kneeling down, pursing her lips around its shaft. Lewis's cock started to stiffen again as he stroked it. He didn't bother getting dressed. He spent the day inside, alone. After climaxing, his mind would clear momentarily, and he would think of the mess he'd need to clean up, and how he should get dressed, and break out of this fugue state. But soon his excitement, always simmering, would again gradually build to a boil. The doorbell rang again, insistent, registering dimly in his mind. His cock was rock hard; he kept stroking as he walked toward the door. As he let go to reach for the handle, he started to climax, and was still spurting when he pulled the door open. Alicia gave a little shriek of distaste and stepped back. This was naked guy number 9, and he was a doozy. He wasn't even the first to answer the door with his dick hard. But to have come still shooting out, that was new. She shook her head, as if clearing an Etch-a-Sketch drawing, and took a quick step sideways. "Do you need to go back inside, sir?" Lewis looked down, bewildered, as if sure he had been wearing a three-piece suit just a moment ago. He covered up with his cupped left hand, forcing his softening member down. "I'm sorry," he said. "What do you want?" "I have a package. For Deborah Proll. Is she in?" Lewis gave a gloomy smile. "No, my wife is not in. Most definitely not in. She is... um, otherwise occupied." His answer seemed to be the tip of an iceberg, and Alicia's curiosity was stoked. All was not right in the Proll household. For safety, she was supposed to report behavior like his, and let the office (or the cops) handle things from there. Most times, she preferred to make a judgment call. This man didn't seem psychotic or high or aggressive. He was of average size and physical condition. She might even be stronger than him. Her outfit could have been a little tempting to him, but fundamentally she still felt in no significant danger. In fact, she was captivated, not by the man's average looks, but by his situation. She was ready to take back what she had said about the day being a dud. "The party," he said. "She left with another man. Not home yet." "My god, you're kidding me!" she said. Ditched by his own wife at a party? This was juicy stuff. "You're home by yourself?" "Yeah." He seemed increasingly restless, as if he realized standing out here naked was not that smart. "Can I sign for it? The package?" "Oh, sure. Sorry. Fill this out and sign." She handed him a small clipboard with carbon-paper forms and a pen. Low tech, compared to the electronic handhelds UPS and FedEx used. Johnston ran some things the old way. He took the board in his right hand, but the left was still occupied covering his dick. "Is there a--?" he said, looking around. "Yeah, yeah," she said, understanding. He needed a stable surface to support the clipboard, since his other hand was occupied. She didn't see one nearby. "I don't know." She feared he would get impatient and head back inside, that this story, whatever it might be, would slip through her fingers. She wanted to find out more about what had happened to the man, what had brought him to this. She'd only get one chance. There was a raised concrete stair against a stucco wall, about six inches high and twelve deep, supporting two large potted plants. "Here," she said, stepping up between the pots, back to the wall. She braced the clipboard against her chest. "Try this way." This movement brought his focus to her, and Lewis got a good look for the first time. At first glance, she really wasn't to his taste; hair tied in a plain ponytail, gruff personality (and a little nosy); oval face, sturdy figure. Little of the beauty, refinement and femininity Deborah enjoyed. Still, he found himself appreciating her more. Her warm clothes bared well-toned legs and arms, probably from walking and lifting, and her partly unbuttoned shirt had hinted at what looked like a nice pair of breasts. Now, the clipboard was in the way, covering her chest like a small billboard. He stepped up very close to her, just inches away. Well within her idea of personal space, even if he wasn't naked. She instinctively tried to step back, but she was already against the wall. Why had this idea occurred to her, to brace the form with her own body as he signed? She was having second thoughts now. Pen in one hand, he helped steady the clipboard with the other. His fingertips brushed against her chest. She realized his dick was hanging free. He shifted his weight and she flinched, as if stung, when the tip of it tapped her bare thigh. It was still sticky with his come. Conflicting feelings collided in her as Lewis read the form. She realized she had set this up because she wanted him to come closer. Not out of any particular attraction; no, she was just curious. Maybe. He was a decent-looking guy; he had just made a horrible first impression. "It's wrong," he said. "Huh?" His dick tapped her again. It was quite distracting. "Wrong invoice," he said, leafing through the pages. "Not this name or address." She flipped the board around and checked. "Shit. You're right. They screwed it up." She unclipped her cell phone and called. Dispatch needed some time to fetch the file; they would call back. She reholstered the phone and apologized to Lewis. "No problem," he said; "I'll wait." He didn't move. A car drove by, the sun glinting off dark windows. Had anyone seen them? The neighborhood seemed pretty quiet except for the occasional driver. "So your wife taking off did this to you?" Alicia said. "Hope you don't mind if I ask. You look like you took it kind of hard." "Yeah," he said, "yes, I did. I mean, I never even suspected. She was so busy at work..." "Office party?" "Yeah." She put her hands on his shoulders, before she realized that she would actually be touching this guy. His dick was still brushing against her, but she no longer flinched when that happened. "Sucks when you trust somebody and they do stuff like that." "I couldn't believe it." "But why... how do I put this... why hang around your house undressed and spank your monkey? I mean, what does that solve?" "The things I saw; I can't help thinking about it. Sometimes your body decides for you what's sexually exciting. Even seeing her with another man... that's kind of fucked up, I know." "You saw her fooling around at the party? In front of you?" Alicia's tabloid fascination was triggered again. "What did she do?" He shook his head, and his dick swung and tapped her in the leg again. This time it seemed a little higher up. A little stiffer. "You don't want to know." "It's OK. We're waiting here anyway." "Actually, I don't want to tell you." "Come on," she pleaded, and did grab his shoulders this time. "I won't tell anyone else." She wouldn't know until later whether or not she could manage to honor that promise. "There was a hot tub," he started. "Many of us didn't know there would be one, so we had our semi-formal wear and that was it. But Fiona, the lady whose house it is, said there were some spare swimsuits, help yourselves and climb in. "I had lost track of Deborah, my wife, and didn't feel like going in alone. So I kept wandering around, refreshing my drink, and trying to keep an eye on her. "I get back to where the hot tub is and I notice her in there, with two other guys. Between them. They're right next to her, and one has his arm around her. They're laughing and joking and having a good time. One guy, I can't tell where either of his hands are. "It looks like she went in topless. Her shoulders are above the water, and there's no straps. Right away I wonder if the guys are feeling her breasts underwater. Sometimes she gives a little squeal like they've pinched her. She sits sideways, facing one guy, and I can't see exactly what she's doing, but her arm is moving a bit and her hand is between his legs. His trunks are already off." Alicia's Last Delivery "Giving him a hand job?" she said. "Yeah, that's it," he said, pausing to catch his breath. "She finishes, and the other guy moves forward and sits her on his lap, it looks like. She's a little more out of the water, and leans forward a bit. He takes his trunks off too, and he's playing with her tits, and she's giving him a lap dance, as far as I knew, his hard cock against my wife's tiny little bikini bottom." He was getting aroused simply recounting the story. Not only were there beads of sweat on his forehead; but his penis was no longer bobbing; it pressed firmly against her clenched thighs. She put aside the impulse to wriggle out of the way, instead enjoying how naughty the situation was. "I watch this for a while," he continued. "Then she says something to both and starts to climb out. That's when it's evident she isn't wearing anything at all. And that other guy had been inside her." "My god!" she said, trying not to appear overly entertained by his misfortune. The story was getting pretty hot, though. The tip of his penis had raised enough to press against the fabric of her shorts, just in front of her pubic area. His breath was getting more labored and he was visibly tensing up. Obliquely, she knew what this was warning of, but she was still engrossed by the story; part of her also wanted to know how far she could push him. "What happened next?" "She steps out, and she's so fucking hot, totally naked, water dripping off her, doesn't care who's looking. And Nick comes up, and she takes his cock out of his Speedos. And she kneels down and sucks him ---" Lewis grimaced and closed his eyes as he came, shooting come directly into Alicia's lap. He was leaning on her, and she couldn't get away. She could feel the warmth through her clothing and knew the sticky semen would be soaking through very soon. "Oh god, shouldn't have done that," she said. Her admonition might have been to him or herself. He finally straightened up and stepped back, mumbling "Sorry, sorry" as his dick softened and stopped pulsing. She looked down: she was a mess. All she wanted right now was to get the sticky clothes off. She unbuckled, unzipped and shoved her shorts and panties down, shimmying until they lay at her feet. "What a mess," she said. "This is fucked up." "I said I didn't want to talk about it," he said. He looked down, possibly to avoid her gaze, possibly to gaze at Alicia's dark bare bush. He had still dotted her thighs with a few drops of semen. "That's what's been happening all day." "My fault, my fault," she said. She inspected her shirt, and was satisfied it hadn't been stained. "I just had to know, you know?" He shook his head. "I can't remember the last time it's been this intense. To come while picturing my wife with other men." "You said you wouldn't think about it," she smiled. "Anyway, I don't know what's taking so long with that callback." "You should come inside, wait while I wash your shorts." She had a single, intense vision of where that would lead: lying naked on her back on his living room carpet, squirming as she came, moaning as he pumped more juice inside her. That would be going a little bit too far. "No, I'll stay out here," she said. "You should probably go back in, though." "What about your shorts?" he said, glancing again at her bare pussy. The more he got to know her, the prettier she seemed. He glanced up, appreciating her large breasts, snug in that short-sleeve top. "Drive home, give 'em a quick wash and dry," she said. "Driving bare-assed on a truck seat, that's something new." She gingerly stepped out of them, and kicked them aside. They were silent for a while, puzzling each other out. "You're actually kind of pretty," he said. "'Actually?'" she said, catching the backhanded compliment. "Thanks a lot. You don't even really think so." "I do," he protested. She noticed his dick getting hard again. Did he take his Viagra today, or was he one of those overlooked studs in bed? If that were so, why would his wife cheat on him? "Anyway, you're married," she said. She wondered if the little dimple marks on her ass from the stucco wall would take a long time to disappear. She noticed that somehow, he was up against her again; her arms were at his shoulders, reaching around to his back. He fumbled with her shirt, located the first button, and unbuttoned it. If I want off this ride, she thought, I'd better do it now. He undid another, and suddenly she was tired of waiting, he was taking way too long. She undid the remaining buttons, opened the shirt wide, and wriggled out of it. He pawed and squeezed her breasts nestled in a tight black bra, which she reached behind her back to unclasp. She was planning to take that off as well when the head of his dick, now fully hard, poked against her moist pussy lips. She reached down and guided him in, and it was a lovely slow thrust as his dick filled her. Maybe it was the location, out in public on the front entryway, or maybe it was the fact that she didn't even know the man's name yet. Her desire rushed in like a flood, and the sensation as he moved inside her was more intense than she had ever remembered. She cupped his ass, and felt his muscles flex as he moved. He whispered breathless things as they made love, punctuated with sloppy kisses as they got used to each other's faces and bodies. He was getting more confident, working into a rhythm of quick, forceful thrusts alernating with long, deliberate ones, savoring the lovely wet friction. She let go of him for a moment to collect her loose bra and fling it away, and then brought him back in close, skin against skin, nothing between them. She came first, almost surprising herself, and not knowing exactly what had tipped her over the edge. Then he shuddered and came, and if he was ever going to run dry, it wouldn't be this time. They huddled and kissed like newlyweds as she kept him inside until he was too soft to avoid slipping out. "What just happened?" she said. He laughed. It seemed as if all the stress had drained out of him, among other substances. "Do you want to come in?" She nodded, and picked up her clothes. This would be the best story of all, for the guys back at the warehouse; but it was one she never planned to tell. Deborah didn't come back that day, and Lewis didn't miss her; she would have spoiled things anyway. He marveled at Alicia's gorgeous heart-shaped ass, and those lovely breasts that made his mouth water. Some women looked better in a sexy outfit than nude; but Alicia looked fantastic with nothing on. He was sure her breasts would make an excellent pillow. After she accepted his invitation to stay, he gave silent thanks to how quickly things had seemed to turn around. * * * Lewis and Alicia spent most of a lazy Sunday in bed or on the couch, watching monster movies. Neither had put on any clothes since he had invited her inside. Alicia lay prone across Lewis's lap, resting her head over folded arms on a pillow. His dick poked at her belly in a most pleasing manner. "Is this scene really necessary?" she said. The cable channel specialized in R-rated horror films, and Alicia had been teasing him about the gratuitous nudity all day. On screen, a naked blond starlet was taking a shower, and the camera lingered as she leisurely rinsed suds off her skin. "Oh, absolutely it is." Lewis was pleasantly surprised with this movie; they weren't skimping on the full frontal. "This scene establishes how hot she is, so when the monster gets her, it'll be all the more tragic." "I see," she said, chuckling. "You know, our receptionist kind of looks like her." "You've seen her in a similar situation?" "In a way," she said; and then told him about Barbie's adventure at the company picnic. "They're having another one; I would take you, except you're married." His laugh turned into a sigh. "What?" "I think I'm falling in love with you," he said. "You're just on the rebound." She didn't move her eyes from the screen. "Falling for the first cute piece of tail." She wiggled hers and Lewis's heart skipped a beat. It looked like they might miss the end of this movie, too. "You think they'll come back for their truck?" "Maybe. I just really want to stay here." She sighed and purred, contented. "When do you think your wife will come back?" "I don't know." Debbie didn't come back that day either; around midnight, Lewis and Alicia climbed into bed. * * * Early Monday morning, Debbie was being driven home, and had mixed feelings about going back. She'd had an amazing weekend with Nick; never had she been kept so hot and horny for such a continuous length of time. She'd had a hunger that, though slaked many times, was never completely sated. Even now, she was getting buzzed again, just sitting in the passenger seat, with his hand in her lap. It didn't help that she was wearing one of his dress shirts and nothing else, and she had unbuttoned it all the way; it just felt more comfortable open than closed. The cool air caressed her thighs and breasts. Nick's palm rested on her pubic mound, while a finger lay between her pussy lips. He wasn't even doing anything right then; his touch was enough. For a couple days, the cliché had actually been true: she didn't have anything to wear. Nick had carried her away naked from Fiona's party (god, right in front of Lewis), and after a long night of sex, had taken her aboard his boat with some friends. He'd given her a shirt to wear, the same one she had now; but she had eventually taken it off, and his friends had taken turns with her. A couple skimpy things he'd bought for her (and would keep at his house) were the only other clothes she wore, when she wore anything at all. Nick moved his finger a fraction of an inch along her lips and she shivered. She clasped her legs shut, to keep his pressure there; then let them spread open. "Something bothering you?" he grinned. "No, stay there," she said. "You're just making me not want to go home." "There'll be other weekends." "I hope so - ooh!" she squealed, as he slipped his finger inside. She touched her breast: goosebumps from the early morning air, and her nipples stiff. "I always just want one more..." But Nick was turning on to her street: just half a block away from home. A delivery truck was parked in front of the house. "Does a truck driver live here?" Nick wondered. It seemed a menial job for this sort of address. "No," Debbie frowned. "No one's inside... they shouldn't just leave it here. I'll call the company when I go in." Nick pulled into the driveway. "Stay here." He got out, walked around the car to her side, and opened her door. "Oh, you're such a gentleman," she cooed. "Too bad I'm not dressed like a lady." She stepped out and tucked the sides of the shirt together, then decided not to bother. The shirt spread open again. "You worried someone will see?" She shook her head. "No, the cat's out of the bag with Lewis. And right now, I don't really care who's watching. Why, do you?" "Nope." Nick reached inside her shirt and drew her to him. His only concern, his only reason for discretion at times like this, was to avoid having word get back to the husband and bring the affair to an early end. He wasn't done with Debbie, not by any means. He guessed there was a small chance Debbie might cut it short; that's one of the reasons he had taken her away, in case this was the last he'd see of her; but even if that happened, it wouldn't be the end of the world. But as his hands explored her tits, her waist, and her ass under the open shirt, he guessed this was not the last time he would have her. "Oh, Nick, that was fantastic," she said. She was ready again, ready to strip the shirt and lean back against the hood of his car, let him have her right there in the driveway. But Nick was already disengaging himself, saying he'd had a great time. "Thanks for the shirt," she said, and leaned in for one last kiss. "Bring it back whenever you want. In person." He grinned. She watched him back out and drive away, giving him one last look at what he'd have to wait a few days to have again. No, make that a few hours... as soon as she had met with Lewis, showered, and gone in to work. She drew her own forefinger along her slick pussy before telling herself No, Deb, stop that. Not now. Not yet. In a way, she was happy to be home, and relieved to get a break. She missed Lewis, and the simple pleasures of being with him. She couldn't wait to tell him about her weekend. She'd seen enough out of the corner of her eye at the party to know he'd appreciate it, even as he tried not to. This was a potent new spice she was adding to their life. She tingled just thinking about telling her story. The night after the party; Saturday afternoon on the boat; the night at that honky-tonk dive on the marina. And Sunday... the things she had done Sunday were nearly unspeakable. Oh, there was so much to tell her husband! She knelt to reach beneath the decorative rocks for a hidden house key, and then let herself inside. "Lewis?" she called out. No answer. He wouldn't be out of the house at seven in the morning; maybe he was ignoring her. That was OK; she knew some ways to get his attention. There was a package on the front table with the mirror, where she had checked her makeup before leaving with Lewis Friday night. She recalled the sexy black outfit she wore; it was so cute; she had looked so hot. She'd definitely have to get that back from Fiona's place and wear it again. The package was addressed to her, and unopened. She pulled the tab and peeked inside. Oh, of course: the sheer top and panties, from Daphne's Daydreams. For Lewis, or Nick. Or she might try it on both. But Nick seemed to prefer her naked; lingerie never stayed on for long. On the arm of the sofa, however, was something very much out of place: a small stack of neatly folded clothes, nothing she recognized. Ho ho, what's this? she thought. She separated the clothes out. It was a uniform, Reliable Xpress. A woman's. She peeked out the window, at the truck parked in front of the house. Not only were there shorts and shirt, but panties and bra. Lewis, you little devil, she thought, smiling. You sneaky bastard. If her clothes are here... She didn't know whether to feel jealous or impressed. For someone like Lewis to even go out and pick up a woman, and bring her back to stay overnight took some skill, and moving that quickly had never been his style. But he hadn't picked this mystery woman up after work at some bar; he had somehow done so when she delivered the package. Had he known her already? If not, what had he done, in that short window of opportunity, to convince a stranger to sleep with him? Debbie smiled. Maybe she would withhold judgment until she got a look at the woman. Having the woman's clothes in plain sight bothered her; she arranged them back the way they were, then took off Nick's shirt and spread it over them. She stretched her arms upward, as if preparing for yoga. She was getting very accustomed to wearing little or nothing, and thought it would be a nice balance to come back to Lewis the way she had left. The house was still silent. She would probably feel a little silly if she opened the bedroom door and it was empty. No way to tell, one way or the other, unless she opened the door. She remembered some scientific allegory about a cat in a box, and how the cat was both alive and dead until the lid was opened. She pushed the bedroom door open. Lewis was there, asleep, on his side, his arm across the belly of a naked Latina woman, lying on her back, also dozing. The bedcovers had all been kicked off. The room was kind of a mess. She glanced at Lewis's skinny ass, and a peek of his cock and balls between his bent legs. As for the woman: Debbie was impressed. She had a nice figure, warm-toned skin with a natural tan, and an oval face, unpretentiously pretty, with long black hair spilled out over the white bedsheet. A pillow lay unused, to the side. Her ample breasts swelled minutely as she inhaled. Her legs were angled and spread immodestly; she had a neat triangle of coarse-looking jet-black pubic hair, and dark pink pussy lips. Lewis, you've done pretty well for yourself, she marveled. Her husband and the naked Latina woman still slept, as if they had been up all night. The woman was really pretty, and sexy. Debbie realized what she wanted to do. She tiptoed to the woman's side of the bed, leaned down and licked the woman's nipple. It was larger than hers and a stunning dark brown. The woman sighed and stretched her body a bit, and settled back into sleep. Keeping her balance, Debbie licked the other one; it was an indescribable taste, a subtle tang with flavors she couldn't identify. The woman sighed again, letting a slight moan out, barely audible. Her dreams had probably taken a nice erotic twist. Lewis shifted a little as well, possibly unconsciously feeling the woman's slight motion, but remained asleep. Debbie straightened up a little and caressed both breasts at once with the lightest touch. The woman purred in pleasure, and her eyelids fluttered just a bit. Debbie wondered how much she could do without waking the woman up. Debbie snuck another taste of the woman's nipple, lingering as long as she dared. The woman writhed enough that Debbie feared she would turn over, and wake them both up. She teased her own damp pussy as she waited for the woman to drift back under. Debbie slid her hand down over the woman's belly, just the faintest touch, and then petted her pubic hair, before reaching between her legs. The woman was moist there. She explored the woman's pussy lips, causing her to immediately begin writhing more; she was so wet and warm, Debbie could no longer wait. She slipped a finger inside, and the woman awoke with a gasp. She leaned down, and licked the woman's lips before pressing hers to them. Lewis was going to be awake soon. "Hi, beautiful," Debbie whispered, and wiggled her finger inside the woman, making her shudder. Her eyes were wide, but the fog was still clearing from them. "I'm Lewis's wife. You're actually on my side of the bed." The woman looked up, and then to the side, realizing Debbie was as naked as she; and she was the one touching her. Debbie kissed her languorously, as she continued stroking her. "So, as husband and wife... What's your name?" "Alicia," she said, a grin starting to appear. "Alicia. Anyway, as husband and wife, Lewis and I share everything." She lifted his arm off of her; he grunted and shifted, starting to awaken. "And that includes everything he brings home." She climbed onto the bed and lowered herself over Alicia, who was fully alert now. Lewis awoke to the sight of his wife's long, lovely nude body, and all the longing for her he had suppressed came rushing back. It took a few moments to put together that Deborah was making love to Alicia, and that Alicia was giving it right back. "Holy shit," he said, out loud. He shifted his leg to allow his dick to swell freely. "Oh, honey, you're up," said Debbie. "I hope you don't mind." She giggled. "We'll both be with you in just a sec." And her lips returned to Alicia's, and their hands caressed each other. When their activities turned to Alicia on all fours, licking Debbie's pussy, Lewis decided he had sat on the sidelines long enough; Alicia's shimmying ass and velvety pussy lips were just too irresistible. There were quite a few things he needed to talk with his wife about; but those could wait. No hurry at all. (Author's note: This is a spin-off from "That's no Lady; That's My Wife!", and readers of that story might complain that things didn't really happen this way. They're right; this is a branch, a fork, and not part of the real timeline. There were two of many branches Lewis's life could have taken after he answered the doorbell, and I wanted to write about both. Alicia's Last Delivery Gloria, the original delivery person for this branch, got borrowed instead for "Notebook Found in a Deserted House"; so I invented a sister. And Daphne's Daydreams, making a cameo here, is from "Extra Large Combo with Everything.")