The Delivery Man Who Came Back Three Months Later

I’m Lucía, and I work from home, right on the beachfront, in a small town on the Mediterranean coast. That freedom lets me spend my mornings on the terrace, almost naked beneath a white linen shirt stuck to my skin with sweat. Underneath, I’m wearing nothing. It’s one of my private luxuries: the sea in front of me, my laptop open, and me sunbathing as if nobody could look at me.

That July morning the heat was already intense before eleven. I was lying in the hammock when the doorbell rang. I leaned over the railing and there he was: AguaMar’s new delivery man.

Damián was impressive. Tall, dark, with short hair shining with sweat and those very pale blue eyes that contrasted with his tanned skin. The blue uniform fit him snugly, showing off broad shoulders, veiny arms from hauling drums, and a narrow waist. He didn’t have a gym body: he had the body of a man who really works, functional muscle, a thin layer of sweat glistening in the sun.

I shouted for him to come up. When he appeared on the terrace with the twenty-kilo drum on his shoulder, he stopped dead in the doorway. He looked me up and down in less than a second. My shirt was sheer over my breasts. He swallowed and looked away, trying to seem professional.

“Good morning, ma’am. I brought your water,” he said in a deep voice roughened by the effort.

I stood up slowly and walked over. I took the drum from him, deliberately brushing his fingers. I felt the heat of his skin and a shiver ran through me.

“Thanks, Damián”—I read the name on his badge and smiled brazenly—“It’s incredibly hot today, isn’t it? Come in for a moment, I’ll pour you a glass of cold water. I’m alone, I work remotely, and today I’ve taken the morning for myself. That’s why I’m so comfortable.”

He hesitated, but he accepted. I took him to the kitchen and poured him a huge glass with ice. While he drank, I leaned against the counter opposite him and let the shirt open just enough for my nipples to show through. I caught him staring without even trying to hide it, and that made me wet instantly.

We talked about silly things: the heat, the town, his job. I told him a little more about myself.

“I live here year-round. The house is mine, right on the beach. I can work in a bikini or just in a shirt, like now. Nobody bothers me.”

Little by little, he opened up too.

“I’m married,” he said, showing me his wedding band. “I have two little kids. My wife stays home with them all day.”

“How lovely,” I smiled sweetly. “It must be hard spending all day out there hauling weight and then coming home exhausted.”

He sighed wearily.

“Truth is, yeah. With the kids so small, it’s all routine. Diapers, screaming, exhaustion… and almost no time for… you know.”

At that moment I got insanely turned on. That voice, the frustration of a tired husband, the veiny arms holding the glass, the smell of a real man. I was dying to drop to my knees in front of him and suck him off until he forgot about his wife. But I did nothing. We chatted a little longer, I signed the delivery slip, and he left.

As I watched him go down the stairs, I already knew that next time things were going to be very different.

***

When I closed the door, I leaned against it with my heart racing. I went up to the terrace, lay in the hammock with my shirt fully open and my legs apart. I touched myself imagining his strong hands on my ass, his thick cock straining under the uniform. I came three times in a row, one after another, until I fell asleep in the sun with my fingers still inside me and my thirst unsatisfied.

That same night I called an ex who always answers quickly. I let him in with my shirt open, without a single word. I fucked him on the sofa thinking about Damián the whole time. When we were done, I sent him off with a polite smile. More satisfied in my body, just as hungry in my head.

***

The second visit was a month later. I prepared myself. A tiny chiffon dress, almost transparent, with nothing underneath. The fabric clung to every curve.

When I opened the door, Damián lost his tongue. His eyes moved over me slowly and lingered a second longer than they should have. I invited him in for something cold.

“It’s really hot today too, isn’t it?” I said, crossing my legs in the chair so the dress would part just enough. “You must be coming in really… loaded.”

“Yeah, a lot of heat,” he replied firmly, but his blue eyes betrayed him again and again.

I leaned over to pour him more water and whispered, almost brushing his ear.

“Damián, you seem tense. Everything okay at home? With the kids it must be hard… coming home exhausted and having no time to blow off steam.”

He blushed, but he held my gaze.

“Yeah… my wife is always tired with the kids. We barely have… you know.”

I sat down opposite him, opened my legs a little more under the table, and spoke in a low voice.

“That’s a shame. A man like you, with so much strength, with so much weight on you… you should have someone to help you let it all go. I could lighten your load.”

I put my hand on his thigh under the table and started moving upward. I felt his whole body tense. When I reached the top, I felt his arousal: thick, hard, throbbing beneath the fabric.

“Lucía… I’m married,” he said hoarsely, sweating. “I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

I squeezed a little harder.

“Nobody has to know. Just a moment, so you leave lighter.”

He was breathing hard, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on mine. Suddenly he pulled my hand away firmly, stood up, and said:

“I’m sorry. I have a family. I’m not one of those guys.”

He left quickly, with the erection still obvious in his pants and his face red with shame and restrained desire. Knowing I had him that worked up and that he still resisted like a real man made me completely insane.

***

Another month waiting. I couldn’t take it anymore.

He arrived on time, more tense, more sweaty than the other times. I greeted him wearing a white shirt open all the way down. My small, firm breasts barely covered, my flat stomach shining in the sun, my copper hair tousled over my shoulders, my honey-colored eyes burning.

I took the drum from him with my best smile.

“Come in, Damián. It’s very hot today… and I can see you’re carrying a lot again.”

I closed the door and put my hand on his chest, feeling the firm muscles under the uniform.

“Almost what?” I whispered, brushing my hip against his erection. “Almost fucked me like a real man? Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about me this whole month.”

He swallowed, jaw tight.

“I’m married. I have children. I can’t betray my family.”

I smiled and undid one button.

“Nobody betrays anybody if nobody finds out. I just want to taste you. Once. Or twice. Or as many times as it takes until you calm down.”

I led him to the kitchen, sat on the counter, and spread my legs. My thong shifted just enough for him to see how soaked I was.

“Look at what you do to me. With that voice, those arms… you’ve had me like this since day one.”

“I can’t… fuck, Lucía, you’re dangerous.”

I lowered my head gently toward me.

“Dangerous, yes. But you’re a hard man. Hold out a little longer… or just taste me already.”

“I shouldn’t… my wife hasn’t touched me in a month.”

“Then let me take care of you. Just a little.”

He held on for one more second. And then he exploded.

He grabbed my hair hard enough to make me feel dominated, and with a voice full of built-up frustration:

“I’ve gone a month without fucking… and you’re going to pay for it now, Lucía.”

He yanked me down from the counter, put me on my knees, and pulled out his cock without another word. It was exactly as I had imagined: thick, long, with prominent veins running down the shaft, the head big and pink, throbbing with desire.

He shoved it into my mouth, straight to the back of my throat. Tears sprang to my eyes instantly. That sudden dominance, so different from the restrained man from before, set me on fire like never before. I moaned around him, muffled.

“Suck it,” he growled. “This is what you wanted, right? Then take it.”

He fucked my mouth without mercy. Saliva dripped down my chin and onto my breasts. He changed the pace: slow and torturous, deep and holding me there for a few seconds; then fast and demanding. I cried from pleasure, never taking my eyes off his.

In the end he came hard at the back of my throat. He made me swallow almost all of it. When he was done, he pulled his pants up calmly, looked at me with those blue eyes now cold and distant, and left without saying a single word. Not goodbye. Not a caress. He closed the door and disappeared, leaving me on my knees in the kitchen, panting, semen dripping down my chin and breasts.

***

The following month was endless. I couldn’t get him out of my head. Every night I masturbated imagining he came back and this time didn’t resist. I called an ex, went off with a guy from the bar, let a neighbor eat my pussy on the hammock. None of them worked. They were all Damián in my imagination, none of them satisfied me in reality.

The day arrived. The third of the month, marked in red on the calendar. I showered slowly, rubbed lotion over my whole body, and looked at myself in the mirror: messy copper hair, honey eyes blazing, golden skin ready for anything. I spent the morning on the terrace, wearing nothing but an open white shirt. Every engine down below made my stomach flip.

When the doorbell rang, my heart shot up into my throat. I ran almost to the door, opened it… and it wasn’t him. It was a much younger guy, almost a teenager, with the uniform hanging loose and a frightened look on his face when he saw me like that. His erection showed instantly and he turned red to the ears.

The disappointment hit me like ice water. I signed the slip without really looking at him and sent him away. I ripped off my shirt, put on an old sweater that fell to mid-thigh, and threw myself on the sofa with a book of erotic poetry. The words wouldn’t go in. I was empty.

Then the doorbell rang again. Persistent. I sighed and dragged my bare feet to the door. I opened it almost without hope.

And there he was.

Damián. Tall, dark, with those blue eyes now colder but burning. He wasn’t wearing the uniform anymore: a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his veiny forearms, tight jeans showing off his thighs. Strong jaw, several days’ beard, bronzed skin, broad chest straining the fabric.

I was speechless. Me, who always has a dirty little line ready, couldn’t say a word.

“Can I come in?” he said in that deep voice.

I nodded almost on instinct. He closed the door behind him.

“I quit my job,” he blurted, staring straight at me. “I couldn’t keep coming here. You drove me crazy from day one. That morning in the open shirt, that smile that said ‘come on if you dare’… you fucked with my head. Every time I came in with the drum I imagined fucking you against the wall. But I have my wife, my kids. I couldn’t.”

He paused. His forearms tensed under the shirt.

“I tried to resist. Really. But every brush, every double entendre, you made me harder than ever. I left the job for my family. I love my wife, my children. But I need to try this body once. Just once. Then I’ll go, and I’ll never come back.”

He waited for my answer, breathing hard, his erection showing in his jeans. He murmured almost to himself:

“I lied to her. I told her I had a trip. I hope it’s worth it.”

And he kissed me.

It wasn’t the rough, hungry kiss I expected. It was sweet. Surprisingly sweet. His lips settled on mine with a softness that disarmed me, as if he were afraid of breaking something fragile. His hands began to travel over me with the same slowness: shoulders, arms, back, hips, stomach, sides. Memorizing.

I was still frozen. My skin prickled beneath his fingers. And then the fire I always keep inside me began to rise. My hips moved on their own toward him, my hands found his chest. I took control again.

The sweet kiss lasted only a breath. Suddenly his hands stopped wandering and started gripping. He yanked my sweater off over my head and threw it to the floor. He pulled me against him, feeling his erection press into my stomach. He lifted me easily, carried me to the sofa, dropped me onto my back, opened my legs with a firm movement, ripped off my thong, and knelt between my thighs.

He ate my pussy slowly. Very slowly. As if he owed me. First the flat of his tongue tracing my lips, then gentle circles on my clit, then his tongue inside while his thumb drew firm circles. I came again and again, grabbing his hair and pulling him closer to me. Each orgasm more intense than the last. He didn’t stop until I was out of breath, my body limp, my hair stuck to my forehead with sweat.

For the first time with him, I took control. I pushed him back, knelt, and pulled his jeans down. I took out his cock and whispered flirtatiously:

“Now it’s my turn, stud. Let’s see how long you last when I’m the one in charge.”

I started slowly. The tip first, then the whole shaft, licking every vein. I took him little by little, all the way in, swallowing around him. I pushed him to the edge three times and three times I stopped, squeezing the base with my fingers. He growled in frustration, his muscles trembling with restraint.

When he couldn’t hold out anymore, I pushed him back and climbed on top. The moment I felt that thickness opening me, I came without meaning to, gushing over his thighs. I started moving slowly and deeply, rolling my hips. The windows were wide open; anyone on the beach could see us. I didn’t care.

He reacted. He turned me over, put me on all fours with my ass in the air, and drove into me in one thrust. He alternated: hard and fast, then slow and deep, brushing that spot that made me shake. I begged in a broken voice:

“Damián… empty yourself inside me… please.”

He grabbed my hair and sped up. He came inside me with a low roar, filling me with hot spurts I felt throbbing one by one. I came with him, trembling, my legs giving way.

***

We stayed wrapped in each other on the sofa, panting, the sea in the background breaking softly. I stroked his chest and whispered through laughter:

“If it’s only going to be once, then it has to be worth it. I’m not letting you leave half-satisfied.”

He growled:

“Then I won’t leave until I’ve left you completely satisfied.”

And he meant it. He fucked me against the kitchen counter, grabbing my breasts from behind. Then on the terrace, on his knees, fucking my mouth with the sea breeze stroking our skin. And later, on all fours on the terrace floor, I whispered an invitation I’d never made with him before:

“If it’s only once, I want you to try everything. My ass is yours too.”

He went still for a second, his cock throbbing inside me.

“Fuck, Lucía… seriously? You’ll let me?”

I pushed back a little more, feeling him deeper.

“Of course, stud. If it’s only once, I want you to try everything. Fuck my ass. I want to feel that thick cock opening me slowly.”

When he pressed the head against my back entrance, he stopped for a moment.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me. My wife has never allowed me this. Not once.”

“Exactly for that reason,” I whispered, victorious. “You’ll remember this night for the rest of your life.”

That broke him. He pushed in all the way with one firm thrust. I screamed, a mix of pleasure and pain. He stayed still for a few seconds, letting me adjust, and then he started moving. Slow at first, then harder and deeper. The pain turned into intense pleasure. I came without touching my clit, just with his cock filling my ass. He didn’t stop, growling in my ear.

We fucked like animals under the sea breeze. He changed the rhythm: slow and torturous, fast and savage, slow again to make me beg. He slapped me hard enough for the sound to carry through the night, bit my shoulder. In the end I pleaded with a broken voice:

“Empty yourself inside… fill my ass… please.”

He sped up, pulled my hair back and came with a low roar, filling me with hot spurts. I came with him, my body convulsing in endless waves.

It was one of the most pleasurable nights of my life. That mix of initial pain turning into growing pleasure, the feeling of being completely full, of being used and using him at the same time… it was unforgettable.

I never saw him again. But I was more than satisfied. That one night was enough to mark me forever.