Wrong Address 1


This short story is a Happy Birthday gift to a fan. Hope you enjoy it, too.

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I was just stepping out of the shower when I heard the doorbell. I hadn’t ordered a pizza and I wasn’t expecting company. I figured it was some kind of salesman that I could get rid of quickly so I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around me, and headed toward the front door.

I opened the door, trying to stay back a little. I wasn’t interested in the whole neighborhood seeing my almost bare butt at the front door.

A young woman, who appeared to be in her early twenties, with a backpack slung over one shoulder, looked up and asked, “1837 Boston, right?”

“Yes,” I acknowledged that she had the correct address.

She looked at a small slip of paper in her hand, “You’re Paul, right?”

“Yes,” I agreed that I was actually Paul. However, I didn’t tell her Paul was my middle name, nor did I mention that I seldom used that name. She was just selling something and I wasn’t in a buying mood.

She turned and waved at a car parked at the curb, pushed the door open a little farther, and stepped into the house, using her hips to push the door closed behind her.

I heard the car leaving about the time I saw this young salesperson drop her backpack and open the front of her trench coat.

On. My. God. I must have stared at her for a full minute and I may have drooled.

Some magician had ripped the middle out of a Playboy Magazine, waved a magic wand over it, and put the real live centerfold inside my house.

Before I could close my mouth and swallow, she reached forward, pulled my towel off and smiled, “Oh, nice. Yum, yum.”

I think I caught her arms before she dropped all the way down to her knees, but she already had my cock in her hand and I wasn’t going to get too rough with her. I did not care to risk a permanent injury.

I may have stuttered. I know I swallowed hard and had to cough. “What…what…who…” I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. I looked down to see that she was still holding my stalk, so I carefully phrased my question. “”Who are you?”

“I’m Paula,” she answered. “Isn’t it neat? Like, I’m Paula, and I’m sent to be Paul’s date for the evening. Wow, cool, I’ve never had that happen before.”

I guess the look on my face told her I was really confused. She stopped stroking my ramrod. I didn’t want her to stop. I really didn’t want her to let go, either. But she seemed to need that hand to take the paper out of her pocket.

She looked at the paper, “1837 Boston Circle?”

I groaned. This has happened before. This dumb city won’t allow a change of the street name. I live on Boston Avenue. I don’t know the man who lives across town on Boston Circle, but I have his telephone number somewhere. Occasionally UPS or FedEx leaves something he ordered on my front porch. I don’t think I knew his name was Paul, either.

She looked at the paper again, “Paul Augustus Baer.”

“Yeah, Gus, that’s his name. He lives across town.”

“Damn,” she muttered and slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops, we’re not supposed to use curse words.”

I watched, fascinated, as she stuffed the paper back in her pocket, flipped the sides of her trench coat back, and placed her hands on her bare hips. The look on her face told me she was a little upset at the confusion of street addresses.

The expression on her face changed, when she looked down at my pussy diver. I felt that animal jerk, as if it had a mind of its own. “Darn,” she exclaimed, running her forefinger up and down my shaft. “I wanted that one. He’s cute. I like ’em long like that. You know, when I swallow,” she looked up at me. “I like it really deep, sort of makes me know I’m doing it right.”

She leaned over and whispered, “I know we’re not supposed to enjoy it, but it really makes me wet when I do that.”

I watched her finger moving up and down my shaft. Taking my eyes off what she was doing for only a moment, I looked at her neatly trimmed pussy. I think the hair between her legs was sort of red. I may have looked up at the hair on her head, for just a second, but my eyes went back to that pretty little pussy.

“I…I, ah… maybe I need to call the office.” She stopped talking and put her hand around my fuck-tool and stroked it a few times. “Do you think … would you mind…” she dropped to her knees and licked the head of my semen shooter.

Oh Lord. Oh mercy. Oh hell. My throbbing python of love was disappearing into her mouth and my knees were shaking. My eyes rolled back in my head and I shuddered. Sweat broke out on my back. I clenched my fists. It was exquisite. Her hot tongue slid from side to side on the underside of my purple mushroom and I wished I could stand there while she did that for the next century.

 

Thomas
Certified Web designer, Computer/Internet
Enthusiast. I believe in Creativity.
Proudly The CEO Of Primebaze.com.ng
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About the Author: Thomas

Certified Web designer, Computer/Internet Enthusiast. I believe in Creativity. Proudly The CEO Of Primebaze.com.ng

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