I Delivered More Than Pizza

I checked myself in the mirror and thought for being a rush job in a compact car, I didn't look half bad.

A few minutes later, I was at the gate. I punched in the code and a few seconds later, a loud buzz startled me and the gates began parting. I found Brandon's street easily. When I arrived at his house, I pulled the condoms out of the duffle and put them in my purse and opened the door. The night air was brutally cold on my bare legs as I walked up the steps to his front door. Luckily Brandon waiting for me at the door and invited me in. He tried hard not to act nervous, but his jaw dropped when my coat came off. I kissed him and told him how handsome he looked. And I could not miss the bulge in his jeans. He handed me the money: ten crisp new fifties. I stuffed it into my purse and he led me to his bedroom

By God, it even had its own bathroom!

Brandon began undressing. When he was down to his boxers, I could see he was hard as a rock.

"My, you certainly are ready!" I smiled and turned on the charm. "Wow! I had no idea what I'd been missing out on."

He puffed out his chest and smiled proudly.

I climbed into bed with him and kissed him. To be fair, Brandon wasn't half bad. He fumbled around while pawing and undressing me, but after that, it was fairly smooth sailing. I tried to direct him as best I could, but boys will be boys, huh? I played up the whore like no one's business.

And I enjoyed it. I couldn't believe it, but I was getting off on the power I had over him.

Brandon's dick was good-sized. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I liked it. I was impressed with his fucking ability. Brandon came three times and I came four or five times. I underestimated him. Given different circumstances, I might have actually been his girlfriend and may have actually liked it. But like I said, I didn't want a long-term relationship.

This was about the money.

Then a horrifying thought crossed my mind: motormouth Brandon might decide to brag to his buddies that he'd had me and tell them what had happened. I was afraid I might be made an offer I couldn't refuse and have to fuck all of them. If they paid and I was going to see them separately, that was one thing. But a DP or a gangbang was something I absolutely did not want to do. I solved my dilemma with a little blackmail: I'd fuck him two or three times a month for $200 an hour, but I insinuated that I'd tell his parents that he took advantage of a poor desperate girl if he told anyone about our arrangement. His dad was a deacon at the local Catholic church and his mother helped teach kids about Jesus.

Needless to say, the revelation that he was paying for pussy would not have gone over well with them at all.

Brandon gave me a deer-in-the-headlights look, but he had no choice but to agree. I actually felt a little bad for him, but I had my own damn problems.

During the drive home, I made the decision to suck and fuck my way out of debt. Hell, I was used to giving it away for free anyway. Why not? I figured.

But I knew there were things about prostitution that I didn't know. The big one was not getting arrested.

I did some research online and found a popular message board where escorts and clients talked. Girls advertised, too. I contacted an established girl who called herself Monica Raven, and she emailed back with advice. We later met and had some hot girl-girl fun and even saw a few clients together.

I bought a cheap pay-as-you go phone and loaded up the minutes and then I borrowed a digital camera from a girl I knew and took a few timed nude pics of myself (blurring out my face in Photoshop,) and then I created my ad and began advertising on the message board and on Backpages. Oh, and I also bought a big box of condoms.

And Tabitha was born.

I avoided talking directly about sex for money in my ads. I said my "donation" was for my time and companionship only. I even had Brandon sign up and post a really explicit review about me. I had my first official client that night, a 250-pound guy who'd just separated from his wife. I made $400 for a ninety-minute session at his efficiency apartment. My second client was about three hours later: he was about thirty and hung like a fucking horse. Up to that point, Paul was the biggest guy I ever fucked, but this guy was about an inch-and-a-half longer and a bit thicker. And he was rough. Really rough. He just stuck it in me and began pounding away. He thought my screams were of ecstasy. Hell no! I asked him to stop, but he said I'd get used to it. I should've gotten the hell out of there, but I believed him. He was full of shit. He went for over an hour before coming. I didn't come once and my poor little pussy was sore for two days and I had to cancel three dates the next day because of it. I healed completely though.

A few nights later, I delivered a pizza to a guy named Garrett. He was in his early or mid 40's and lived in another gated community in our delivery area and drove a Rolls. He owned a few furniture stores in the area. And he hit on me. But instead of ignoring him, I figured why not? He was loaded and fairly good looking. So I brazenly walked into his home uninvited and made an offer: $1,000 for two hours.

Garrett was shocked. "What the...?"

"Tabitha will make you feel like you're eighteen again," I said. And yes, I was getting off on it.

I damned near gave Garrett a heart attack when I pulled off my cap and my uniform top and pulled off my bra.

Garrett's eyes almost popped out of his head. And his kakhi's began tenting. I put my hand on his growing erection.

"Oh, fuck! Oh, holy fuck!" was all he could say.

But his hard dick said more than he ever could.

"Oooh..." I said. "That looks interesting. I don't have time now though. But..."

And I unbuckled his kakhis and unzipped them and pulled them and his boxers down. He was all the way hard.

"I'll give you a preview," I said evilly. "That is if we've got a deal. If not, I'll see you around. So?"

"Hell yes! Hell yes!" he blurted immediately. I smiled and knelt.

I blew Garrett until he came with a roar. It didn't take long.

"That was fun," I said as I dressed. "So, Garrett, Tabitha will be here tomorrow at one. Just have my gift waiting for me in a white envelope in your bathroom."

He nodded and I kissed him on the lips. He was completely oblivious to the fact that he'd just come in that same mouth.

"Oh, and this is our secret, Garrett," I said.

"Wha...? You kidding?" he asked. "You think I'm gonna tell your manager about this? He'll think I'm either nuts or a pervert. Don't worry... Tabitha? I'm not saying anything that will get either of in trouble."

And he slapped me on the ass hard as I was leaving and said he'd see me tomorrow. My ass was stinging, but in a strange way, I liked it.

I was pissed at myself, however. Here I was a newbie to prostitution, and I'd already put myself in danger by letting my emotions and greed get the best of me.

Dumb, dumb, dumb! I thought to myself. I vowed to keep my legitimate career as a struggling pizza delivery girl separate from my lucrative -- but very illegal -- escorting career.

Just as promised though, Tabitha showed up at Garrett's house a little before 1:00. He was pretty damn good. I saw him at least once a week. Initially I charged $200 an hour, but when he learned I did anal, I bumped it up to $300 an hour. I even delivered to him a few times. Garrett was the only person who knew my secret, but he was a gentleman and never tried to use it against me.

Over the next month, Tabitha's reputation grew and she -- I -- was seeing seven or eight guys a week. I didn't ever work near home; I either booked inexpensive but clean hotels at least twenty miles from home, or I went to the client's place. I worked on my days off from Pizza Hut and limited myself to two guys a day. I told my mom I was doing temp work and explained that was given a different assignment every time. Pizza Hut essentially became a cover job. Unless one of my co-workers called me for a date, no one would've even guessed that I was moonlighting as a hooker.

It never happened.

The money was soon rolling in and I was happy. I was out of debt in about two months. But at the height of my career, I quit while I was ahead. I'd saved most of the money I'd earned after my bills were paid. I would've continued, but the fear of being arrested or raped or killed just got too much for me to take. I was getting paranoid. Every time I saw a police car, I'd begin sweating. It became worse after a girl who was seeing a client at the same hotel at the same time I did was brutally beaten and ended up in the hospital with a concussion and a broken jaw. The bastard took the money, too. They found him a couple of weeks later, and I recognized him as a guy I'd seen a couple of times.

I also felt bad about lying to my mom, who still had no clue about me escorting. I did one final session: an overnighter with a fat guy in his fifties. He paid me $2,500. I saw a cop sitting in the parking lot. I tried to act normally, but my legs were shaking horribly and I was almost hyperventilating. As soon as I got out of there and calmed down, I replied to three texts messages from guys wanting to see me that I wouldn't. I deleted every text and every contact and turned the phone off. When I got home, I took down my website and posted a message on the fuck board saying I was retiring.

I didn't get a lot of sleep that night. But things gradually improved. Mom bought my story that the income from the temp work had gotten me out of debt.

She brought up the subject of me going to college. Again.

I groaned. I said there might be an opening in management at the restaurant and I was going to look into that.

"Oh. Alright, Rebecca," she said. "Good luck."

It actually never happened and I quit soon afterward and took a better paying job as a waitress at a Frisch's Big Boy. They said could lead to management opportunities.

Fast forward to my date with Dave.

We shared a milkshake and we got to know each other. I found out that Dave was thirty-nine, divorced, had no kids, and was once engaged to another woman about two years after his divorce. Then he'd caught his fiancée fucking a close friend of his and dumped her. Dave had grown up in town and only moved back about two years earlier. He was a baseball and football fan and briefly played minor league baseball before a shoulder injury ended his career. He had his own business, but was in the process of selling it and planned to retire. Dave said he was raised Catholic, but was not religious anymore. He believed in God, but he said he came to a point where couldn't stomach religion's hypocrisy and divisiveness anymore and lapsed.

Afterward, we drove to his place. I walked in uninvited and wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.

"I was hoping you'd do that, Rebecca," he said and kissed me back. His big hands lifted up my breasts and squeezed my ass.

"God you are so beautiful," he said.

I raised my arms in the air and he pulled off my top and unclasped my bra, then he led me to the bedroom and I dropped to my knees and began unbuckling his jeans.

"Rebecca, listen, you don't have to do that," he insisted.

"Oh, be quiet will you, Dave?" I said smiling as I pulled down his jeans and boxers. He kicked them off.

Hard, Dave was well above average -- around seven inches. And he was fairly thick. I ruefully remembered Mr. Asshole Horsedick. But Dave was gentle. I took him with no problem.

"Damn, Rebecca!" he groaned in astonishment as I began blowing him and took him all the way down to the base.

I giggled with a mouthful of hard dick. I pulled off.

"Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet," I promised, and went back to work on him.

After a few minutes, Dave stopped me and pulled me up. He ripped off my jeans and panties. My completely shaved pussy glistened.

"Oh, Beck, that's nice," he exclaimed.

He kissed me and then traced his tongue down my neck and chest and stomach and finally down to my wet pussy, which was aching for attention. He went to town on my clit and snaked his tongue in me. God it felt wonderful! If eating pussy was an art form, Dave was Da Vinci. Wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure soon hit me. I shuddered and drenched his face when I came.

"Fuck me!" I commanded.

He nodded.

"But... Can't forget these," he said, getting off the bed.

I instantly realized what he was talking about.

He'd obviously had more than one woman in the bedroom because he pulled a box of condoms out of a desk drawer. I stopped him though.

"Never had a guy fuck me bareback before," I said.

"You sure?" he asked.

I nodded.

"I'm on the pill," I said. "But no coming in me, okay?"

"Okay, love," he said.

He entered me and I gasped as he slowly filled my tight little pussy with inch after glorious inch of thick cock. He stopped about three-fourths of the way in and suddenly buried it.

"Ohhhh... Fuck!" I screamed involuntarily. I about hit the ceiling.

"Oh damn! DAMN!"

But I was all smiles.

"Oh, Rebecca... Oh, God, that's so fucking tight, girl," he said with his eyes closed.

He leaned down and kissed me.

"I love you, Rebecca Davis," he said.

I smiled.

He proceeded to fuck me silly for close to an hour. Younger guys tend to come quickly. So do a lot of older guys -- if they come at all. Not Dave though. He had staying power and knew how to make it last.

I was riding him hard when he groaned that he was going to cum. I got off him and began blowing him until he finally did. The load was humongous. I nearly got all of it.

I went to the bathroom and rinsed my mouth out. I spent the night with him and we talked and made love until early in the morning. He even went up my ass. We fell asleep in each other's arms. We made love again in the morning, too.

It was the most fulfilling sex I'd ever had.

I introduced Dave to my mom about a week later. She was a bit concerned about him being so much older, but she grew to love Dave like a son even though he was slightly older than she was. Granny liked him, too.

One night, about three months later, he proposed.

I accepted immediately.

But then I began to feel guilty about my escorting. I was afraid he'd dump me if I told him. But what if he found? I agonized over it for a week before I asked my mom for advice. She'd always said I could talk to her about anything.

That promise was about to be put to the test, I thought.

I tearfully told her that I escorted because I was desperate. I said I wasn't really sorry I did it, but that I was very sorry if I disappointed her by lying about the temp work. I defended myself because it was the easiest way out of my financial problems.

"I'm not doing it anymore," I insisted. "I paid off my bills and saved up what I'd earned. I'm with Dave now and I'm happy. But..."

I broke down. Surprisingly, though, mom didn't get mad over the fact that her little girl had sold her body. Instead she just nodded.

"Well, Rebecca, what's done is done. I suppose you did what you had to do to survive," she said as she comforted me as I sobbed.

I looked at her in disbelief.

"Listen, darling. We all have to do make tough decisions at some point in our lives," she asked. "I'm just glad our talks about sex and protecting yourself worked. You weren't raped were you?"

I shook my head no.

"It's a miracle," she said.

Then her tone became serious:

"But don't mess up a good thing. Honesty is good, but some things are just best left unsaid. If Dave finds out, tell him the truth. He's the pragmatic sort. I think he'll understand.

"Trust me on this, Rebecca. I know men."

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"Rebecca Davis" is an amalgamation of three women I knew. This is a fictional story, but some of it was based in fact.