Best buds Justin and I were working as couriers for a small company that served clients who did not trust the post office to take care of business. Were two college kids on summer break safer than the mailman? Good question. Anyway, it was good pay for us.
And there was an important fringe benefit -- exposure to women.
Several businesses delegated outgoing correspondence duties to attractive young females, and a number of those females, out of boredom or a sense of adventure, seemed open to banter and flirtation with a good-looking young courier. I had been at the job only a month and already scored two babes met on my rounds.
Justin had been less fortunate. He was a good-looking dude, taller than me with a better build, but for some reason lacked my self-confidence and irresistible charm. At the apartment we shared, he confided one beer-drenched evening that he had yet to get it on with a member of the fair sex, not just on this job but in his whole life. I was appalled and vowed to help him change that status.
Like the battery bunny in a TV commercial, my own success just kept on going and going. One morning I was told to pick up a delivery at the office of a steady client. It was handled by Debby, the boss's buxom secretary, who I had already established rapport with through tasteful flirting. She was older than me, almost in the MILF category, but I was always open to expanding my horizons.
Debby told me in a confidential manner that the large manila envelope held a special delivery for the boss's wife. She looked around to verify we were alone, then took it out, chuckling. It was a colorful two-piece silken bikini but looked large enough for a circus elephant. I could not resist commenting.
"The boss's wife must be a dozen sizes or so larger than you. She could use some tips about how to maintain a good figure." Debby smiled and confided that the boss had also noticed the difference, but that the king-sized garment would keep "the fat old biddy" happy admiring herself in a mirror while boss and secretary shared dinner and "other activities." She gave me a "you know what I mean" look.
I congratulated her for being "an essential part of the workforce," and advised that if the boss was called away to tend to his wife's apparel needs I would be happy to "fill in for him keeping the secretarial staff busy." And so on, yakkety-yak. Before I left with the special delivery, I had Debby's phone number, address, and a date for Saturday, at which time I fully expected she would be my courier score number three.
As it turned out, I was wrong. She was number four.
The address for Debby's boss's wife led to a suburban McMansion reached by passing through a gate flanked by two stone lions. The doorbell set off loud chimes that might have passed for cathedral bells. There was a security cam, and I had to state my business through an intercom. I fully expected a uniformed maid to open the door.
Instead, it was a good-looking blond about my age, attired in a skimpy two-piece that did nothing to hide her stunning, symmetrical, natural assets, complemented by high cheekbones, petite nose, blue eyes, and luscious lips flashing a radiant smile. She was a luscious package in her own right, and I was the right courier to deliver it.
"You could not be Mrs. Boss," I stated emphatically. "This would be a tent if draped on you."
"No, it's for my stepmother," laughed the beautiful creature as she took the bulky envelope. "My dad's secretary just called to say it was on its way. Have you been peaking at the contents?" she asked, feigning indignation.
"No, ma'am. I was told by the secretary it was an extraordinary special delivery, and shown the contents to emphasize the point."
"Well, in that case, let me see too," she said, opening the envelope. "No, it's definitely not intended for me, but let's have some fun with it. C'mon in and help me see how it looks on me, will you?" She turned and walked back inside.
Wow, the duties that a courier is called upon to perform. I would have followed even if I did not need a signature for the special delivery. The route led through a maze of large rooms to a bedroom with a dresser mirror.
Now this nymph was not lacking in mammary gifts, but it would have taken ten of her boobs to fill the cups on the huge garment she held across her chest. She laughed, and I got into the game, running the straps around her back and then around in front again, hooking the clasp in the vicinity of her now well-cloaked boobs. It had changed from a rear clasp to a front one. The cups seemed to hang halfway down her belly. Then she stepped into the bottom, holding it at her sides. Three of her could have fit in it. She began laughing uncontrollably, and her mirth was infectious. I joined in.
We repackaged it, and with a co-conspirator look, she said, "I'm going back to the pool. Care to join me?"
I hesitated only a second. "I'm supposed to be working, but it's close enough to lunch break," I said. "However, silly me -- I forgot to pack a swimsuit in the courier van today."
"We're informal around here. You're probably wearing briefs, right? If not, I've seen guys in their birthday suits before." She smiled, arching her eyebrows.
"How about your stepmother, Mrs. Boss? Would she approve of you cavorting in her pool with a naked delivery man?"
"This is her day at the club. She won't be back until late afternoon. Anyway, who I cavort with is my own business. By the way, I'm Danielle." She held out her hand.
"I'm Matt," I said, taking it.
"C'mon, Matt." I followed her through the warren of rooms, which I scarcely saw for admiring her swaying hips and butt, to a very spacious backyard pool with cabana in a courtyard surrounded by a high masonry wall.
"I was treating my boobs to some rays when you showed up," Danielle said, reaching behind her and undoing the clasp to her bikini top, which she let fall on a chair. My eyes bugged out appropriately as she cupped her boobs with her palms as if to fluff them up. "Now, I think I want some wet." She dove nimbly into the pool, her curvaceous, mostly-nude body a beautiful sight as it soared through the air and floated through water.
I quickly took off shoes, socks, tan courier shirt, and shorts. I kept the briefs on, hoping to mask the half-erect state Danielle had got me in, and dove into the pool.
"Oh, wow, this is one remedy for a summer heat wave," I said, upon surfacing next to her.
"Heat and wet are a good combination," she replied, smiling. "I find they often go together, even when I'm not near the pool." She winked, flashed a sly smile, and dove.
