Christian

“I swear, it’s always the last delivery of the night.”

 “Maybe she’s hot?”

“Robyn, if you really think that is a remote possibility, then you do it!”

“Sorry dude, I clocked out ten minutes ago. She’s all yours.”

Five minutes before close, we received an order for delivery. Not only that, but in the instructions, the girl had written, “Be sure to send a cute delivery boy,” with a winking emoticon.

It was one of THOSE people.

If you ask me, that “special instructions” section should be eliminated. The space is intended for someone to indicate a food allergy, or to let us know if they want the pizza extra crispy or something like that. I have literally never seen it used that way. Instead, it’s usually used for one of two things: a) someone asking for a topping they didn’t want to pay for, or b) someone putting something like, “draw me a picture of a giant dick,” because they think they are a comedian. I hate anyone who does this.

But just in case it wasn’t clear enough from that instruction alone that this girl was about to ruin my night, this “Liz” even went a step further. You see, after someone orders a pizza online, an auto-generated text gets sent to them that pretends to be me, saying, “Hi, this is Christian, and I’ll be delivering your pizza. Is your address still blah, blah, blah?” It’s a yes or no question. Not for her, though. She decided to double down on the, “Is he cute?” thing and said that it would affect my tip. I went into the system and told her that this was through the dominos system and to keep this professional. Then she tried to give me her number so she could hit on me there. Hard pass.

Robyn is full of shit, just so you know. She sure as hell knows that whoever did this isn’t hot. They never are. The girls that ask for a cute delivery boy are always the kind that couldn’t get an attractive guy to talk to them unless they paid for it. I guess that makes sense, given that is literally what they are doing here. The porn trope of the hot girl that fucks the pizza guy? Well, I’d have as good of a shot to fuck my step sister as I would a customer. And before you get too excited, I don’t have a step sister.

DING! The oven went off.

“Well, it’s time to find out which one of us was right,” Robyn laughed, as she grabbed her keys and shuffled out the door to go home. “Night!”

Yeah, right.

Before we go any further, I guess you should know a little bit more about me. My name is Christian, and I have been a delivery guy for Dominos for a little bit more than two years. I used to do it almost every night of the week at my old school, but I transferred to Coastal Carolina this semester and have only been working two nights a week. And to be honest, I’m really looking forward to not doing it anymore. 

It’s not that I actually hate delivering pizza or anything. I actually like the gig for the most part. Lots of free pizza, jamming out in my car to music. It isn’t so bad. The issue is just that I was supposed to be done with it when I transferred here. I came here for baseball. I’m a starting pitcher, and I like to think I’m pretty good. I spent two years dominating at the junior college level, and I transferred here on what was supposed to be a full ride. 

I say “supposed to” because it hasn’t kicked in yet. Someone missed a deadline or something, and the result was me getting shafted. Coach said it was the athletic director; athletic director said it was the coach. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is anymore, the end result is still the same: I don’t get my tuition paid for until next semester. But if you are asking why a D1 pitcher is delivering pizzas at 1:00 am on Thursday during the season, that’s why.

When I hopped in my car, it was 1:15 in the morning. I had honestly hoped to be home by now. Especially since I had an 8 a.m. class tomorrow. I guess I should have counted my blessings that the apartment I was headed to was like three blocks from my spot. I could deliver the pizza, and then just go home. 

I arrived at the apartment and knocked on the door. I heard giggling on the other side. 'Oh great,' I thought. 'This should be the cherry on top of an annoying story.' My only hope was that maybe they’d think I was cute enough and give me a tip.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it DEFINITELY wasn’t what happened. The girl that opened the door was the hottest woman I’ve ever seen. She had jet black hair that went down to the most glorious pair of breasts I’ve ever seen. Her skin was the perfect color bronze — from tanning or being some sort of mixed race, I couldn’t tell — and she had easily the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. Oh, I forgot to mention... she had answered the door completely naked.

At that moment, I was dumbstruck. I mean, how do you even respond to something like that? I didn’t know what to do, but all I could think about was that I REALLY, REALLY hoped that she did indeed think I was cute.

“Are you the pizza boy?”

“I... uh... y-yea.” 'Come on, Christian, words. You have seen a naked girl before.' 

“Wow, they really did send a cute one.” She said it with a smirk that was easily the sexiest thing I had ever seen. My body instantly responded — my dick was so hard it could cut glass at this point. 

“Oooh, I’m sorry. It seems pizza boy is more like pizza MAN,” she giggled as she looked down at the tent I was now pitching. She took a step forward, giving me the money for the pizza, and taking the food from my hands. She also used the closeness between us to “accidentally” stroke the outline of my cock. 

“Are you ready for your tip?”

“Is... is this really happening to me right now?” I couldn’t believe it. Was I really going to get to live out this fantasy? With the hottest girl I’ve ever seen, no less?

“Nope!” She laughed as she handed me a $10 bill and slammed the door in my face.  

Wait... what just happened? 

After standing on the porch for a minute in shock, I finally I readjusted the throbbing hard on in my pants and began to walk away, trying to figure out what the fuck that was all about. As I got in my car and slammed my door shut in frustration, I looked down at my “tip.” Written in big block letters on the bill was two words: “APRIL FOOLS.”

Sometimes, I hate this fucking job.

Liz

Before that night, I had never done anything like that before. I’m not saying that I’m a prude  — I get my fair share of action — but I’ve never done anything that involved exposing myself to a complete stranger like that. I had always wanted to; I just never had the guts. But last night was the perfect storm. I was horny, bored, and as the clock struck midnight, I realized that it was April 1st. I was also starving. 

The plan was to open the door completely naked, take my food without saying a word, and then close the door. Nothing more. I wasn’t counting on the guy ACTUALLY being cute, though. I know I wrote in the instructions to send a cute guy, but I’m assuming they don’t have one on call for when some cheeky girl wants some eye candy with her pie.

Regardless, Christian — assuming that was really his name — wasn’t just cute. The guy was H-O-T. Probably 6’4” or 6’5”, shaggy brown hair under a baseball cap, and a chest and arms that you could tell were cut despite the unflattering Dominos uniform he was wearing. There was also the giant bulge that introduced itself the second I opened the door. 

I came DANGEROUSLY close to mounting him right there on the front patio and giving my neighbors a late night show to remember. Honestly, the only thing that snapped me out of it was that I had clearly short circuited the poor guy’s brain. If he had said three coherent words to me, I would have been on my knees and ensuring he gave me far more than just the tip. But that didn’t happen. His stammering and bug eyes snapped me back to the mission at hand. 

The whole situation was one of the most exciting sexual experiences of my life. The second I closed the door, I ran straight to my room and spent the next hour with the biggest toy I owned. I passed out after one of the best orgasm I had ever given myself, all while pretending it was the pizza boy that was there giving it to me. So much for my late night snack.

The next morning, I woke up and went down to find my roommate Emily and her boyfriend eating what looked like the remnants of the pizza that I had completely forgotten about.

“Jesus, you scavengers didn’t even leave me a piece?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we saved a slice for you. It’s in the fridge,” Emily said, as she pointed to our broke-ass fridge.

“Gee, thanks,” I said, trying to lay on as much sarcasm as I could. “I’m so lucky to have a roommate that only eats of the pizza I bought for myself.”

“I’m confused. Because the words you said were all accurate, but I also detected sarcasm. Which doesn’t make sense.”

“Very funny.”

“Oh please. I did you a favor. Don’t you have that party to go to this weekend? If anything, you owe me for saving you from yourself.”

She had a point. This weekend was the “Booster Bash,” the party that is historically THE event of the year. Well, it would be if it wasn’t so secretive. You see, the party is funded by the biggest boosters of the athletic department and strictly for the guys on our teams. And since it is against about a dozen NCAA rules for boosters to be giving athletes access to lavish parties full of top shelf alcohol and the best guy-girl ratio in the world, it is as much of a myth as an event. The only reason I know about it is because, well, have you looked at me?  

For the last month, I’ve been working out and getting myself into the best shape of my life. I was determined to be the object of desire for every warm blooded human in that room. Does that make me a diva? Maybe. I don’t care.

“Have you picked out an outfit for the big night?”

“I’m between the school girl outfit and the nun one.” The party had a Catholic School theme, so I figure the options were relatively limited. 

“Go with the nun costume. There are gonna be a million school girls at this thing. Besides, your ass looks better in that.”

She was right. My ass did look amazing in that costume. Although, “costume” might be overselling it. In reality, said costume was just a nun’s headpiece, with a veil that goes down to about my chest. I paired that with a black tube top and a g-string thong. And just in case the ensemble wasn’t sacrilegious enough, I added some rosary beads.

—

The boosters had rented out the local night club, Vybe, and I gotta say, it was amazing. There was an ice luge to do shots, a champagne fountain, a giant lit up dance floor, and a conveyor belt with assorted finger foods and desserts on it (for the attendees that weren’t starving themselves to look like the human epitome of lust). As I looked around the room, it was instantly clear that Emily was right. Every plaid skirt within fifty miles was in this club. There must have been a hundred of them. It was truly a sea of scantily clad school girls, though I doubt there were any complaints by the guys there.

I was definitely the only nun there, and let’s just say I was getting a lot of looks. I’d be lying if I said that all of them were good — I had a fair share of people looking at me as if I had murdered Jesus and shat on the grave of the Pope. But most of that was from other girls and some of the older and more crotchety donors. When it came to my target market, I was a hit. It seemed every guy at the party wanted to have a personal confessional with me (do nuns do confessions?) I danced with a few guys, but no one really stood out. That is, until I found the instant winner. 

You know how they say that the Devil is beautiful? I’m not sure if that’s true, but the Devil that I was looking at sure as hell was. He was a tall drink of water, and you could see every single muscle through the red spandex suit he was wearing. A red mask covered half of his face, but he had the strong jawline of a Greek deity. I was actually talking to some guy as he started walking over. The interloper’s name was Jeff and he was trying to put his best moves on me. Or maybe it was Jack. Jamie? Whatever, he isn’t important. As my mystery man nudged Mr. Irrelevant aside, I was already starting to get aroused.

“Hello, sister, how are you doing this evening?”

“I’m not sure I should be speaking to you. At least not without some holy water or something.” OK, maybe not my most smooth line, but that isn’t typically my job.

“I’ve always wanted to corrupt a sister of the cloth.”

“And what makes you think I’m corruptible? Maybe I take my vow of purity seriously.”

“Give me one dance to change your mind?”

“I suppose there’s no harm in that,” I agreed, as he led me to the dance floor.

Once there, it didn’t take long for him to seize control. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, given that I had only promised him one dance. We started grinding on each other, and it didn’t take long for me to feel the effects of the fact that the only thing separating my bare ass from him was the thinnest piece of spandex known to man. Forty-five seconds into the song, his trident introduced itself, and I could tell it was exactly what I was looking for.  With that, he had earned himself a couple more dances.

We spent the better part of the next hour dancing with each other. And by dancing, I mean I spent the time gyrating my ass on his massive bulge, seeing if I could get him to blow right there. There was a moment or two where we stepped off the dance floor to go do a shot out of the ice luge (I won), and we exchanged names, but that was the extent of our conversation. All I really found out was that his name was CJ and that he was from Texas. That and he was oddly comfortable about the fact that his costume and erection ensured that every single person at the party could see that he was circumcised.

For a devil, CJ was the perfect gentleman. Too much of one, in fact. Since I had plans for the night that involved less-than gentlemanly things, I decided to give him a nudge. During what turned out to be our last dance of the night, I took his left hand and placed it firmly on the scrap of fabric that was the front of my thong. 

When I did this, two things happened. The first was that I literally felt his cock twitch against my ass. The second? Well the second was that it was my turn to be unable to hide my arousal. That hand of his quickly noticed how wet I was getting, and it began rubbing my pussy through my panties.

“Didn’t take much to corrupt you after all.”

“It’s not my fault. I hear the Devil has a silver tongue.”

“You haven’t even begun to see the things my tongue is capable of.”

Sold.

We hopped in an Über and headed back to my place, trying the best we could to hold off on the action until we got back to my apartment. We failed. About halfway, CJ slid his hand over my mons and into my soaking pussy. I tried to silence my whimpers, but I wasn’t as smooth as I thought I was being. The driver heard and began screaming something at us, though I don’t remember what it was. I was too occupied with what CJ was doing to me. Needless to say, I have a one-star review on Über now. At least the driver was nice enough to not kick us out of the car right then and there.

When we got back to my spot, I hadn’t even closed the door before CJ threw me against the closest wall and did a full on assault of my mouth with that silver tongue of his. He wasn’t lying. The man has a talented tongue, and I couldn’t wait to see what else he could do with it.

As we passionately made out in my foyer, his hands explored the few parts of me that he hadn’t already enjoyed with his eyes. He slid one hand under my tube top, pinching my nipple and causing me to squeal against his mouth. His other hand continued what it was doing in the Über, spreading the lips of my soaked sex, sliding one finger, then two, and eventually a third inside me. Jesus, he was good with those too. 

After all of that grinding at the party and the warmup on the ride home, it didn’t take long before I was ready to burst. 

“Oh my God, don’t stop. I’m almost there!” I moaned, temporarily unlatching from his mouth so I could catch my breath.

About ten seconds later, he went for the kill, using his thumb to rub my clit. As I came, I crumpled to the floor, unsteady on my feet.

“You can call out to God all you want,” he laughed, as he shut the front door that I never successfully closed. “But you are MINE tonight.”

So that’s how he wanted to play it, huh? Well, two can do that.

“Are you sure about that, Lucifer? I was promised a silver tongue, and you haven’t proven anything yet.”

“Bedroom. NOW!” 

Yes sir.

Luckily, my room was the first door of the hallway. I opened the door, and he immediately pushed me from behind, causing me to shriek as I flopped face down onto the bed. I expected to feel his weight press down on me immediately, but that didn’t happen. Instead, I looked back over my shoulder to see CJ taking a moment to admire the shape of my ass. I could hardly blame him. He also used that time to slip out of his spandex suit, though he did leave the mask on for the sake of our little game. I was into it.

“When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to take a step within one hundred yards of a church,” he growled.  “Assuming you can walk at all.”

And with that, he took a step forward, pushed my thong to the side, and buried his tongue into my wanton slit.

I know I had high expectations for this moment after all of his talk, but I have to say that they were all exceeded. CJ clearly knew what he was doing when it came to eating pussy. He constantly alternated between licking my pussy up and down and tongue fucking me, keeping me on the edge of a second orgasm for what seemed like forever, all while never allowing me to get there. To make things better, every time he would bury that tongue inside of me, I would get the added bonus of his nose gently prodding my asshole. I could feel every neuron in my body firing.

SLAP! He struck my ass with what felt like a giant paddle, though it was actually just his massive hand.

“Beg for it.” 

SLAP! SLAP! One for each cheek this time. My ass started to burn, as the cold room in my air touched my quickly reddening ass.

“Please…” I whimpered. 

“Please what?” He was going to make me say it.

“I need you to fuck me right now. PLEASE! Do whatever you want to me Mr. Satan, sir. But I need it RIGHT NOW.” 

He obliged. In one quick motion, he was inside me. REALLY inside me. Like, holy shit.

Typically, I blow a guy a little before we actually get to the sex part. At a minimum, I’ve at least seen how big the cock that I’m about to have inside me is. I didn’t have the luxury here. I had felt it when grinding with him, and seen the bulge through his spandex, but those only paint half the picture. And what CJ was packing was a WAY bigger picture than what I had had recently. It threw me completely off guard, and I couldn’t help but scream out.

“Fuck, you are tight,” he said, pausing a moment after finishing the act of getting that fat dick all the way inside me. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d actually believe that you were the virgin nun you claimed to be.”

“If I was actually a virgin, you would have just caused internal bleeding... you still might have.”

SLAP! “That sounded like a complaint.”

But it wasn’t. After the initial shock wore off, it felt amazing. It was EXACTLY what I needed after getting myself all riled up with the pizza guy a few days ago. CJ started slow, but as I got adjusted to his size more and more, he started ramping up his speed. Still lying prone on the bed, I was completely powerless and at my devil’s every whim. It was perfect.

That second orgasm that had eluded me before came hard, almost causing me to pass out. If it wasn’t for another hard smack on my ass, I might have.

“Don’t you fucking dare pass out,” he barked at me. “You are done when I say you are.”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” I asked, looking back with a half smirk.

He liked that. And his response was to ramp up the speed of his thrusts, leaning over me to use the rosary beads still around my neck to choke me. I know, I know; we are totally going to hell.

It didn’t take long after that for me to feel him preparing for the grand finale. Every stroke began to include him throwing all of his weight into it, and I felt his cock pulsing inside of me. It caused climax number three. Dear Lord.

I’m not a cream pie girl typically, but after what I had just experienced, if that’s what my little devil wanted, I would happily acquiesce. Anything to ensure this happened again. He didn’t though. Instead, at the last second, he pulled out, shooting rope after rope onto my very very red ass. It actually kinda felt nice... like aloe on my burning skin. Reaching back, I scraped some of his load with my finger and gave myself a taste.

“Mmmmmm the next one is going down my throat,” I purred. “And after I clean myself up and get rid of some of this makeup, It’s time to see who the man behind the mask is.”

I headed to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Christian

I couldn’t believe that all just happened. I didn’t even want to go to that party. I was dragged there by a few teammates that insisted it was important. Something about getting introduced to the best of what CCU had to offer. I begrudgingly agreed to go, but then dragged my feet again when they told me it was a costume party. 

It was a losing battle. Especially after our coach overheard us and basically told me it was mandatory.

“You are about to be our star pitcher, and our boosters need to know who you are,”  Coach Topsil lectured. “Shake some hands and talk to them about the upcoming season. You don’t have to stay the whole time, but I expect you to be there for the first couple of hours. 

“Oh, and if you have a little fun in the process, that would be good for you too.”

So that was the story of how I ended up at the Booster Bash, wearing Cliff Jenson’s devil costume that was WAY tighter on me than him.

The party started with exactly what Coach had described. A lot of talk with old guys that were there strictly to write a check for us. I told them how glad I was to be on the team, and that I was really excited to go up against better competition after dominating at the JuCo level. One of them even slipped me a couple hundred dollars cash. That’s a clear NCAA violation, but I’m poor and not on scholarship yet. I figured I deserved it. At about 11:00 though, those attendees started to clear out. Old people have bedtimes, I guess. 

That’s when the “real” party began. I don’t mean to say that there weren’t people having a good time before then, but things hadn’t gotten to the levels I had been told to expect. Most of the girls didn’t start getting there until well after 10, and a lot of the athletes were a little nervous about getting truly wasted with all of the big money investors there. I had very little interest in what happened next, so I was getting ready to bounce. That is, until I saw her. Pizza girl. 

She was looking like something I would willingly sign my soul to the Devil for. Considering that she was wearing a nun costume that was the epitome of blasphemous, that is probably less a metaphor and more of just a fact. She was basically wearing nothing but a thong and a tub top. Sure, she had the headpiece of a nun and the rosary beads, but she was dressed as much like a nun as Karen Smith was a mouse in Mean Girls. It didn’t matter. She was fucking hot. You could see her nipples through her top, and the black lipstick and dark eyeliner really completed the, “will suck dick for communion crackers,” look.

When I initially spotted her, she was talking to a guy on the basketball team, and from the looks of it, he was putting on the full-court press. It didn’t seem to be working, though. On more than one occasion, I noticed her looking past him and directly at me. I even thought I saw her wink, but I could be wrong. Regardless, I decided it was time to go over and say hello.   

I honest to God thought that she had already recognized me. I figured that’s why she kept looking my way. I assumed I would go over there, laugh about her little stunt, make a snide comment about it being her loss, and then leave. But when I got there, it seemed like she had no idea who I was. And the longer we danced and hung out, the more it became evident that was indeed the case. She didn’t have a clue who I was. That’s when I realized I had an opportunity to get some payback for Thursday. It was my turn to get HER all hot and bothered, only to bail at the last minute. Give her a taste of her own medicine.

The plan wasn’t without sacrifice on my part. I can’t tell you how many times I almost blew my load on the dance floor as she kept grinding her ass on what quickly became a VERY hard erection. I probably spent two thirds of the time dancing thinking about dead puppies and that time a line drive hit me square in the balls when I was pitching in the tenth grade. It was a losing battle. My hardon was there to stay. Which led to a second problem... my costume didn’t just leave little to the imagination, it left NOTHING to it. Everyone at that party could see the complete outline of my junk. There was no doubt that I would be getting massive shit for this at tomorrow’s practice. Oh well. At least I don’t have a small dick.

My plan seemed to be working based on her reactions, but I’m only a man. At some point, my brain lost control and let my little guy take over. He didn’t like my plan one bit; he wanted to finish what was started on Thursday. So that’s what we did. All it took was one line about my tongue and we were in an Über and headed back to her place. 

I knew my ruse would be ending the second we disrobed, but if that was the price of getting to fuck the religion out of the woman next to me, so be it. Until a light bulb went off. All I had to do was stay in character. I wouldn’t have to take off the mask if I did that. Luckily, she was super into it. 

The sex was incredible. I’d like to say that we stayed in character, using stories from the Bible to really hammer home the idea that I was indeed the Devil and she was a chaste woman of the cloth that I had seduced and corrupted. The truth of the matter was that our knowledge of the subject kept us from continuing that line of talk for too much longer. I mean, there was a reason that we were completely fine dressing up as the Devil and a slutty nun — neither of us had bothered to walk into a church or open a Bible in quite some time.

Still, the role-play allowed me to continue to keep my cover intact. I didn’t know what I was going to do with that secret, but it felt nice to have that in my back pocket. That’s why, when she went to go shower off before round two, I decided to quickly put my costume back on, and make the three-block walk of shame home.

I’m not saying it was my proudest move ever. Not even in my top ten. Before this, I had told myself that I never wanted to be THAT guy. You know, the one that sleeps with a girl and then completely ghosts them? I tried to make myself feel better by telling myself that she seemed like the type to not want more than what we did, and that this was only temporary anyways, that I would EVENTUALLY find a way to tell her who I was. But who was I really trying to convince? If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was full of shit. She didn’t have my number. She didn’t even know what I looked like under the mask. 

Over the next couple of days, I felt more and more guilty about it. The guys on the team kept trying to interrogate me about what happened after I left, but I wanted to drop it. I wanted to take my mind off my scumbaggery. Besides, we had a big series coming up against Duke, and I was going to be pitching the Saturday game against their ace — and future first-round pick — Tyler “Rocket” Ricketts. I had to focus on that. Oh, and the full course load I was taking. And my job. 

By Thursday though, the guilt got worse. Earlier that day, one of the guys on my team pulled me aside after practice and told me that some girl named Liz was asking around about me. Well, there goes the theory that she was fine with my Irish goodbye. OK, it was time to come clean. I knew it. 

That night, I went through the system at work to look back at last week’s transcript so I could get the phone number she had tried to get me to text her that first night. I then spent my entire shift trying to think of what I should say.

I knew that I wanted to tell her that it was me EVENTUALLY, but I also wanted to have some fun with it first.

Liz

It was more about pride than anything. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t left a guy in the dead of night to avoid that awkward morning after. But it doesn’t happen TO me. I mean, fuck, I had just promised him a round two. No one has ever turned that down before. I just had to know who this stupid fucker was.

It shouldn’t have been difficult. I mean, the only guys there were ones that played a sport for the school. All I had to do was comb through the rosters of our major teams and find any CJs, right? Wrong. Not a single fucking CJ could be found. The prick gave me a fake name.

I thought about giving up, but I couldn’t let him win. I was out for blood. So I called in reinforcements.

“Emily, I need a favor.”

“Plan B is in the second drawer on the left. You can Venmo me whenever.”

“Haha. Very funny.”

“Alright, what can I do you for?”

“I need help identifying the guy I went home with last weekend.”

“The one that gave you a fake name and left while you were in the shower? That guy is my hero,” Emily said with a chuckle.

Emily was clearly getting more enjoyment out of this than I was. She seemed to think it was karma for all of the games that I have played on numerous guys over the years.

“Yeah, well I’m not finished with him yet. And once I find him, he’s going to regret leaving before I was done with him.”

“So what do you need from me?

“Call anyone you know that plays a sport and ask if they know a CJ or remember the guy dressed as a devil at the party. SOMEONE has got to know something.”

I was right. It didn’t take long to ruffle the right feathers. Because that night, I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

“I heard you’ve been asking around about me.”

'So fucking cocky; I hate him.'

“You have got a lot of nerve, you know that? Who leaves when the promise of a round two was thrown out there? Do you have any idea how many guys would sacrifice their left nut to get a shot at me?”

“You said you wanted to unmask me. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Now I was super confused. I thought he kept the mask on because of our little role-play. 'But now he is saying he kept it on to keep me from knowing who he is?'

“I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Depends entirely on what you consider ‘knowing.’”

God dammit. Now I was intrigued again. “OK well tell me, mystery man. What is your real name?”

“Haha, that part actually wasn’t a lie. Most people call me CJ.”

“Bullshit. There isn’t a CJ on any Coastal team. I checked. Either tell me your name or fuck off.”

“Firstly, I said more people CALL me CJ. I didn’t say that was my actual name. So check the tone. Secondly, I just transferred here a few months ago, and the athletic department is incompetent as fuck. Despite already playing in like five games, I’m still not on the website.”

'Shit. I’m back to square one. '

“I must admit, though, I had a fantastic night. And I’m looking forward to doing that again.”

“What makes you think that I even WANT to do it again with you?” I was starting to go back to being pissed again.

“Because you have spent the last three days trying to find me, lol.”

The ass was right. I DID want to do it again. I highly preferred it to be on my terms, but if that wasn’t doable, I still wanted it to happen.

“Well, I’m not doing it again unless I get to see who you are. Those are the rules.”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes. Tell me who who are and why you seem to be dodging the question.”

“You free Saturday night?”

“Yeah, why?

“Be at Spring Brooks Stadium at 7:00. You’ll be able to figure it all out.”

... I’m not sure why I thought it would be easy.

—

“Hey, are you free to go to the baseball game tonight?”

“Baseball? Do you even know what sport that is?”

“What are you even getting at? I love baseball.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I mean, I have never been to a college game, but I follow the Braves pretty closely.” OK, that’s a slight exaggeration. These days, it’s more that I follow Freddie Freeman pretty closely (YUM). Still, I did grow up watching the game with my dad. It was how we bonded.

“Had no idea.”

“So can you go?”

She couldn’t. She had plans to go to the beach with her boyfriend and have dinner at some fancy restaurant. If I was going to this game, it was alone.

—

I went back and forth about whether to show about a dozen times. I hate going to shit like this alone. Especially because I always get hit on. It didn’t help that I had no idea what I was looking for. I mean, I assumed he was a player, but what if he ended up being in the stands?

I felt like Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams. You know the scene where he basically kidnaps James Earl Jones and takes him to a Red Sox game. Except he has no fucking clue what he’s supposed to be looking for (I told you, I grew up with the game)? That was me.

I got to the game a little late, but still in the bottom of the second inning. I got a program — thinking that may have a clue in it — and sat on the first baseline between a family of four and an old guy that was laser-focused on the field and did the “scoring the game” thing. I figured they were the least likely to harass me.

Nothing so far. I mean, we did put up two runs in the inning to take the lead, which was exciting, but no clues as to who my man was. I did get one surprise, though. When our defense came out for the top of the third, I recognized the pitcher. I didn’t know who it was, but I definitely knew him.

I looked through the program for the guy, but he wasn’t there. Dang, “CJ” was right. Our athletic department IS shit.

The third inning went by, then the fourth and the fifth. I was no closer to solving either of my mysteries. Answers to the CJ dilemma and why I knew the pitcher evaded me. Honestly, the second question was starting to become more important to me. Not only did the guy look super cute (albeit from fifteen rows up), but he was GOOD. Through five, he had only given up the one run in the first inning before I got there, and had struck out seven.

“Excuse me, sir.” It was time to consult the expert next to me.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

“Can you tell me who number 51 is? He doesn’t seem to be in the program.”

“Oh, that’s Christian… Christian something. Can’t remember the last name," our jerseys don’t have last names on them. "He’s new this year. Transferred from a junior college.”

OH MY GOD. PIZZA BOY! 

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Pizza boy was our team’s best player. Fuck CJ. I had a new target in mind. I was gonna give Christian the ride of his life and the star treatment he deserved.

Christian was taken out in the eighth inning. His final stat line was 7.2 innings, giving up just that one run on five hits. He also struck out 11. He handed the ball to the coach and walked off the mound to a standing ovation from the crowd. He waved to the fans, but then added something that threw me completely off guard. He looked up at my section and winked.

Did he know I was there the whole time? What did that mean? He definitely winked, right?

“Let’s give a warm round of applause to our newest Chanticleer, Christian Jennings!” the PA announcer said.

Another burst of applause rang out, including the belligerent cry from a drunk three rows behind me: “ATTA BOY, CJ!”

WHAT THE FUCK?!

Christian

Why the hell did it have to be THIS game. Of all games to be distracted during, why did it have to be the biggest one of my career? Duke was ranked in the top ten, and I was starting against the best pitcher in the ACC. Scouts would be there. Yet my dumb ass was like, “Oh yeah, tell a girl to come to the game. You totally won’t spend as much time scanning the crowd as the actual task at hand.”

I don’t typically get nervous when I pitch. The mound is actually one of the few places that things make sense for me. That’s why it was so jarring when that wasn’t the case on Saturday night. 

All of my worries came true. I spent all of my warmups looking through the stands. And when it came time to throw my first pitch of the game, it went about three feet over the catchers head. I ended up walking two guys in that first inning and giving up a run. It should have been worse, but thanks to a great play by Jayson at third base, it was only one. No sign of Liz, though.

I don’t even know why she was having that kind of impact on me. We had had sex one time. Sure, I had a good time and all, but so what? 

Oh, who am I really kidding here... I have never been the type to be able to successfully separate sex and emotion. It is a real issue. Especially because I let my dick control the steering wheel WAYYYY too much. I’ll meet some girl at a bar, we’ll have sex, and then I’ll either get hurt the next day, when it turns out she didn’t want anything serious, or I’ll get hurt a few weeks later when it turns out that she’s a thunder cunt. I knew I was headed down that path again. The best I can say this time is that when it blows up in my face, I’m not at all innocent. I deserve it.

As for the game, I thankfully settled down in the second, striking out the side. I had made peace with the fact that she wasn’t showing. Oh well, I had a game to win.

By the time I got to the fifth inning, I was in the zone. I wasn’t paying attention to anything other than the catchers mitt. Sure, I looked around the crowd when we were batting a couple of times, but I knew I wasn’t going to find her. After all, even if she DID show up, most of our fans were sitting in the section above our dugout, and therefore out of sight from where I was.

During the sixth inning, though, the camera crew did the super lame “kiss cam” thing. You know what I’m talking about. I typically ignore it, but when it panned to the mother and father of two kids that were clearly beating the shit out of each other, I saw the face I had been searching all night for. 

There was Liz, wearing blue jeans, a white crop top, and a Braves baseball cap. She was beautiful. FUCK! All of those nerves I pushed to the side came right back. 

When I got on the mound, something amazing happened. Instead of screwing with me, it gave my fastball some extra oomph to it and kept me going. I thought I was out of gas in the sixth, but that adrenaline rush kept me going until the eighth. 

When I was finally pulled, I got a standing ovation. Including from the girl on the first baseline that had given me more trouble than any Blue Devil hitter that night. I couldn’t help but shoot her a wink as I walked off.

The game ended with us winning 5-2. I had a bunch of interviews, and even talked with a scout from the Orioles organization. I tried to expedite things as much as I could, but when I left, it was past 10:00. Liz was long gone, as was the high I had been riding.

I tried texting Liz a couple of times over the next few days, but I got nothing in return. I was completely crushed. I really thought I had seen a smile when I walked off the field. 'Did I imagine it? Was my “play it cool” act too much after ghosting her?' I began to hate myself. Surely she has figured out the whole thing by now. If she didn’t want to respond, it was because she wanted nothing to do with me. 

— 

Tuesday night rolled around and it was time for Christian Jennings the pitcher to take a break and allow Christian from Dominos to take over one last time. After that, baseball would have to take priority. We were getting to an important stretch of the season, and that’s where all of my focus needed to be. Dominos would finally be a thing of the past.

My shift was pretty uneventful, although I did have one customer recognize me as the guy from Saturday night. That was pretty cool. The kid asked for an autograph — my first ever — and the guy gave me a $20 tip. All things considered, the night lifted my spirits considerably. I clocked out at 12:55 and was shooting the shit with Robyn, when we received an order through the system. At exactly 12:59.

“HA! Now it’s your turn to get screwed.” I couldn’t help but laugh at Robyn and her misfortune after she had done the same to me two weeks ago.

Robyn looked at the order and just shook her head. “Dude, I know you are already clocked out, but I think this one is all yours.”

I gave her a confused look, but it became crystal clear what she meant the second that she handed me the slip.

On it, was an order from Liz. And in the first “special instruction” I have ever been glad to read, she had written, “You know who to send,” followed by a heart emoji.

I swear, that pizza took longer to bake than any food that has ever existed. It was like we were trying to make it in an Easy-Bake Oven. When it was done, I sped over to her apartment in record time, and as I got out of my car, I was already cranked and ready to go. If by some chance this was her messing with me again, it might do some irreparable damage to me.

I knocked on the door twice, but as my fist went to rap against the door a third time, the door swung open. I was pulled inside in one swift motion.

By the time I had processed what was happening, the pizza had been thrown on the table, my shorts were pooled at my ankles, and Liz already had my dick deep down her throat. 

If I thought I was revved up and ready to go, I wasn’t the only one. I let out a groan, which caused her to purr on my cock, almost ending things before they even began.

She temporarily took my dick out of her mouth, using both hands and the saliva remaining on my shaft to give me the best hand job I’ve ever experienced.

“Is this what you were expecting, pizza boy?”

I groaned again. “Expecting is not the right word. Hoping, though.

“Liz, I’ve been thinking about you all week. Why haven’t you—“

I was cut off by her shoving me back in her mouth until she was starting to gag.

“Less talk... more face fucking,” she managed to say in between her attempts to touch her nose to my stomach. I guess there will be time to talk later.

I took her hint and finally started working on the task at hand. Wrapping her hair around my fist, I began doing exactly what she had asked for. I began using her face like it was a sloppy cunt.

I was fucking here face harder than I had ever done to anyone before. Spit was dripping down her chin, and tears were beginning to trickle out of her eyes. It was like I was daring her to tap out.

As it turned out, I was the first one to tap out. It only took a few more minutes of that to have me ready to blow. I tapped her shoulder to try to warn her, but all that did was motivate her to take me further and further down her throat.

“Liz... I’m about t… Fuckkkkk”

At that final cry, I began shooting a week’s worth of cum down her throat.

Jesus, she was a fucking pro. She didn’t spill a single drop, swallowing rope after rope until I was spent. She even used her tongue to swirl around the head of my cock to make sure I wasn’t keeping any reserves from her. Eventually, when she was satisfied, she released my cock from her mouth with a very sexy POP!

“I’m guessing you didn’t learn that in the convent?” I chuckled.

“Don’t you worry about where I learned to do that. Just be glad I did.

"Now take me to bed, pizza boy.”

"Yes ma’am."

I led her to her bedroom and allowed her to lie back on her bed. Her eyeliner was a mess and she still has drool on her chin, but all that did was accentuate the fact that for at least the rest of the night, she was there to basically do what I wanted. And I wanted to taste that pussy again. 

Typically, I’m not the kind of guy that says, “I love eating pussy.” I didn’t mind it. I’ve been told that I’m good at it. But I certainly didn’t love it. Of course, that was before Liz. With her, I could feast on it for as long as she’d let me. It is one of my “desert islands” foods. 

Luckily, I had some time to kill. You see, my refractory period is typically longer than most guys my age. Sometimes it takes me twenty or so minutes to get going again. And I had mentally allotted every single minute of that to exploring every fold and sensitive spot of Liz’s magnificent slit.

I kissed up and down her thighs, I sucked on her swollen lips and clit, I even used the time to tease that little asshole off hers. 'Another day,' I told myself.

Liz’s orgasm built slowly, but it was easy to read her body and know when she was almost there. It started with her pulling my hair, directing me to focus more on her now-swollen clit. Followed by a string of expletives that would make an old person keel over. But what really gave away that she was on the precipice was that her legs began to shake and she tightened those perfectly tanned thighs around my ears until I felt like I was going to suffocate. When she finally came, my face was flooded with her juices.

The timing ended up being perfect. As she was finishing riding the waves of her orgasm, my little friend was ready to rejoin the party. It was time for the main course.     

 I climbed on top of Liz and placed my cock at her entrance, but I just left it there. I wanted to see her squirm. It only took a few seconds of waiting.

“CJ, if you don’t stick that fat cock inside me right now, we are going to have serious prob—FUUCK!”

I wasn’t about to let her finish that sentence. I took that as my opportunity to slowly slide me dick inside her. Unlike last time, when I bottomed out inside her in one thrust, I decided to take my time, going inch by inch. We had spent two weeks teasing each other to get to this moment. I was going to enjoy it.

After finally submerging myself in her, I grabbed her legs right below the knees and spread them as wide as I could to give myself more room to work. Then I slowly began to pump in and out. I got to say, it had been a while since I had sex where both parties weren’t trying to attack the other like a rabid animal. It was kinda nice. Not to say there isn’t a time and place for that kind of thing, but it was a nice change-up. We continued at that pace for probably ten minutes or so before she decided that she wanted to take control. And who was I to deny her?

She got on top of me and instantly sunk my glistening cock inside of her. As she put one hand behind her and arched her back, she began grinding on top of me. I took a moment to soak it all in, but not much longer. Those perfect tits of her were calling out to me. I sat up and began sucking on her right breast, sneaking my left arm around her to pull her closer. That apparently got her going, because the frantic pace from our last session returned and we began grinding on each other as hard as possible. 

Another five or so minutes went by, and because of the pace and position we were in, I was starting to get out of breath. But not unlike the game on Saturday, Liz did something to give me a second wind. 

Grabbing my hair and pulling my head back, she whispered in my ear, “Cum inside me, pizza boy.”

"God dammit, woman."

I pushed Liz so that she was back to leaning on her arm, and I began thrusting upwards with all of the energy I had left in me. The smacks of my hips hitting her ass rung out like the crack of a whip. Finally, I was at my finishing point.

“Fuck Liz, I’m about to blow!” I cried out.

“Fill me up, baby. Make me yours.”

That did it. I honestly don’t know how much I came. After my first round, I can’t imagine I had much left. But whatever was left in the chamber, she got it. 

Liz got up and said she wanted to take a shower (what is it with girls and showering right after sex?) She asked if I wanted to join her but I declined. I was spent. She went into the bathroom, but before closing the door, she made me promise I’d still be there when she got out. But there was no way I was going anywhere. Ten minutes later, we fell asleep in each others arms.

I’m going to miss this job.