Home Delivery (Part 1)

The Friday night drinks party at work was over. I’d been standing around for hours and my new three-inch heels were killing me. I just wanted to go home, treat myself to a nightcap and something to eat, before pulling on one of the old T-shirts my ex had left behind when he had taken off with his lab assistant three months ago.



The bastard!

I opened my front door and clicked on the lamp in the living room as I walked through to the bedroom leaving a trail behind me – my dress, bra and panties. I tossed my shoes across the softly lit room, sinking my feet into the carpet.

Did I mention that his lab assistant was a guy?

Probably not. I was still recovering from the shock and preferred not to mention it – not even to myself.

What was clear to me, though, was that Greg was not coming back.

Ironically, he was one of the most macho-looking men you could want to meet. Apparently, that meant nothing; gay men, as I’d discovered on Google, were often fabulously good looking and sexually sophisticated. I must have missed something in the six months we had been married and in the two months of our whirlwind romance beforehand.

He’d come home late and more than a little drunk. It took a while but eventually he blurted it out;

“Stella, there’s no easy way to tell you. In some ways I’m as stunned as I know you’re going to be, but I’m gay. I’d kind of known, but I’d thought it a passing thing which is why I never brought it up.”

“What? Gay? No!”

He stood there in our living room, flushed and ill-at-ease.

“Stella, as much as I love you as a person, there’s someone else in my life and I know he’s the one for me. This isn’t what I had in mind, but it has to be.”

“Who is it? Do I know him?” I rasped, my mouth dry. We’d barely settled into married life together. Now this!

I had felt as if the anchor in my future life had been yanked up and I was free-floating in a sea of despair, anxiety and loss. Hadn’t I been enough for him? But I now knew that he was what he was, and it really had nothing to do with me… but a shred of doubt still floated around in my mind.

Before my hunk of a husband had gone off with Dennis, pretty Dennis, who I had never in a million years considered a competitor, Friday night was ‘fuck night’.

Now I was alone and hungry. Since Greg had gone, I’d let the refrigerator run low.

I pulled out my cell, dialed the local Greek restaurant and ordered more take-out than I could possibly eat on my own, but then I was still struggling to adjust to the ‘on my own’ bit.

As promised, 15 minutes later, the home delivery guy rang the bell. I’d dug out one of Greg”s T-shirts, tied a sarong round my waist to cover up the fact that I wasn’t wearing panties and went to the door to collect my souvlaki-with-the-lot, dips and hot Greek bread.

I opened the door and the delivery guy stopped me in my tracks.

He was tall, rangy, and young – probably a college student topping up his income by delivering take-out. When I say young, I mean young; maybe 18 or 19. I’m 34 so by his standards probably in the same category as his mother.

He grinned, “Evening ma’am. Your order.”

And then he just stood there, our eyes locked. You could have started a car with the sexual energy whipping between us. I could see he was summing me up, his gorgeous blue eyes under strong brows, playing with the possibility that his night might be taking a turn for the better.

I felt my womb drop. He had sun-streaked light brown hair, wavy and worn long to his shoulders. He was one of those young men who have yet to fill out but who are pumped with testosterone. He was also polite. He was waiting for me to decide, for me to choose what to do next. I could have said a simple, “Thanks,” taken the parcel and shut the door.

I didn’t.

Instead, I reached out and grasped his shirt, pulling him inside.

“Lady, are you sure about this?”

I threw caution to the wind. It was ‘Friday fuck’ night after all.

“Come in…”

I lifted his loose top and gasped. “I didn’t know before, but now I’m sure.”

A smile flickered across his handsome sculpted lips. He had dimples that creased his cheeks making him even more attractive.

It was his cock! I could clearly see that he was big, very big, very long and very hard. It was out of proportion to his still youthful body but there was no doubting its hunger and its potency. It was engorged for me. It must have been a lightning response to the desire he saw in my eyes.

I sank onto the huge leather sofa in our living room; the one where I had fucked Greg when he was still Greg-my-guy and not Greg-Dennis’-guy.

“What’s your name?”

HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED IT HEHEHEHE**

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