Pizza with extras

Every time you roll up with another pie, she opens the door already smiling like she knew you were coming. Same girl. Blond hair loose down her back, tits pushing hard against whatever thin top she threw on, nipples telling you she skipped the bra again. She keeps ordering more than one person could finish, so when she calls and asks for extra cheese you tell her you’ll bring something extra if she wants it. She laughs low, says you can come straight inside this time. Door clicks behind you and she leans against it, pulling her shirt up so those heavy breasts spill free, soft and warm and waiting. You drop the box, pull your belt open, and she drops to her knees before the cheese even cools, lips parting around the head like she’s been thinking about this since the last delivery. She works you slow at first, tongue sliding underneath, taking more with every bob until her throat flexes around you and spit runs down her chin onto those full tits. She looks up while she sucks, eyes glassy, hand squeezing the base in time with her mouth, and you know the pizza’s staying in the box tonight.