Calico Gets a Special Delivery
A wonderful friend of mine assures me, in great detail, that this actually happened. Of course, I've changed her name, and his, and the delivery company because one must do these things, mustn't one. Because of where she lives, they often have service people coming in. When I suggested making it a series, she volunteered to "be a slut in the name of art." -Emmerson
She was named Callie when she was born, but as her baby blonde hair grew out and was replaced by tri-color blonde, brunette, and red, her grandfather took to calling her Calico, and it stuck.
Now, at 26, Calico kept her namesake hair cropped short in the back and around her ears, but long and full, on top.
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Before getting in the shower, Calico looked at her nude body in the mirror. She was (as Granny-Aunt always reminded her) rail thin, with square shoulders, almost no tits at all, slim waist, narrow hips, long legs that met at the auburn pubic hair covering her tight pussy.
She pouted slightly, feeling sorry for her pussy. Since she moved in with Granny-Aunt ten months ago, there had been precious little attention paid to her pussy, or her clitoris or tits for that matter. Caring for the 86-year-old woman was a full-time job. As remote as the house was, there was little opportunity to meet someone who wasn't a visiting home nurse, the trash collectors, or the occasional religious zealot going door to door.
Of course, there were exceptions.
Because they lived far from town and Granny-Aunt didn't like to leave the house. She ordered more and more online. This meant the delivery man visited more and more frequently.
Usually Granny-Aunt met him at the door and thanked him as she accepted the delivery. Calico beat her to the door a few times, giving her the chance to check out the handsome, young man.
He had the dark skin tone of the local Native American population. His black wavey hair and deep brown eyes only complimented a bright white smile.
With the short sleeves and short pants of his uniform, Calico admired his muscular arms and legs. The shape of a large, soft dick was often noticeable, dressed to the left. His name tag said "Jeff."
But she never had the chance to get to know him better, as Granny-Aunt would scurry over to greet him and send him on his way. The best Calico could do was gaze at his tight ass when he went down the porch steps.
Now, alone in the shower, Calico conjured the memory of his dick and his ass and his smile and his eyes gazing into hers. Holding those memories, she pinched her small but sensitive nipples, as she removed the shower head wand from its clasp and rinsed the soap from thin body. The warm water teased her nipples until they were hard between her fingernails. She threw her head back enjoying the stinging water against her skin. She moved the wand down to her crotch. With a flip of a tab in the handle, she changed the soft flow to a firm jet and pointed it at her clitoris.
She shuddered as pulse after pulse assaulted her clit until a sweet orgasm swept through her.
Calico had been through this ritual many times, always returning to a world of enforced celibacy and loneliness.
Today, that would all change.
Granny-Aunt's back yard was nearly a full acre, descending a steep hill. Some 50 years ago her husband put in a stone stairway that wound a switchback through four separate gardens on the hill. The cutting garden was at the top, closest to the house. Then the vegetables, the yuccas, and the seed garden at the bottom. The gardens were Granny-Aunt's pride and joy.
Calico could see the hillside from her bedroom window. Today, she saw Granny-Aunt at the seed garden, her baggy jeans hiked up, knee pads to protect her bones, digging away with a small trowel, bouncing to the tune of whatever was playing on her earphones.
Calico had gotten an email that a package would be delivered soon. She knew it would take Granny-Aunt at least 30 minutes to climb the stairs back to the house, once she was done for the day, and it was only 9AM.
Still nude, she carefully placed the small video camera on the corner shelf in her bedroom, the small twin bed perfectly centered in the shot. She began recording, knowing it could hold a couple hours at least. Then she walked to the entry hall and did the same with a second camera pointed at the front door.
Her pussy was dripping at the thought of watching whatever she got up to, not to mention any money she would make from downloads.
A touch of deodorant, a hint of perfume, a quick dash with a razor on her legs and elsewhere. With her blood still simmering from the shower, when delivery guy Jeff rang the bell, she was ready.
Standing at the door, entirely naked, Calico looked over her shoulder to make sure the camera was seeing her tight, young ass. Spreading her legs slightly, she threw open the door.
"Hi, Jeff. Let's fuck!"
Jeff stood frozen, staring.
Amused, Calico used the time to give him the once over.
Jeff was over six feet tall and displayed the tan arms and legs of his profession. His dark hair was tousled, and his face was covered in a light sexy stubble. His short sleeves and shorts were tight in all the right places. She smiled as she noticed his dick was crawling down the pant leg as it grew.
"You bet," Jeff came to life, realizing this was every delivery driver's dream come true.
He stepped through the door, leaving the boxes all but forgotten on the porch. "Ms Andrea or Miss Callie?"
She smiled as she realized he was using the only names he knew, the ones on the address labels. "Andrea is my ancient Granny-Aunt. I'm Callie. They call me Calico."
He pulled his eyes from her tits to the tri-color hair on her head and the auburn thatch at her pubes. "Perfect, Miss Callico." His voice was like distant thunder, promising a storm.
Calico gasped as he suddenly wrapped his strong arms around her lithe form, pulling her into a kiss. She opened her mouth to his tongue, which curled in around hers. It flicked across the tip, then filled her mouth as he plumbed deep into her throat. Calico grabbed his hair and pulled his face back. "My tits! Do that to my tits!"
