The UPS Guy Read online

  Vincent had said, “Mrs. Nixon, I am very attracted to you, because I don’t think in terms of age—I think in terms of a man and a woman. But I promise that if you’ll just let me be a friend and be here for you at this time of crisis—on behalf of Michael—then I won’t complicate things by trying to seduce you. I know that you don’t want me and that, to your eyes, I’m just a boy.”

  “That’s true, Vincent. When I look at you—I see a man, but I also see my son. I see someone who needs mothering and guidance from me—a sort of like a nephew. I will never see you as an option for sex or romance, so if you’re willing to forget the ridiculous crush you had—then I’m willing to forget it as well. I can be like an aunt to you, but I can’t be your girlfriend.”

  “It’s a deal, Aunt Kate,” Vincent had smiled that day. And now, after two and a half years, it felt to Kate as though they really were Auntie and nephew.

  Michael’s death, of course, had given them a special bond.

  But what really made it all work out was Vincent being able to convince Kate that he no longer had any sexual-romantic aspirations towards her. With that comfort and reassurance, she came to trust Vincent and she allowed him to become a close friend in her life.

  “Aw, how cute,” Jewel had teased her mother. “You and Vincent go bowling together every Wednesday night—you debated on the phone throughout this whole Presidential election, almost coming to blows over the fact that he supported Obama and you supported Clinton—and whenever he has a swim meet, you’re there in the stands like a proud parent. It’s almost like you’ve adopted a replacement son for Michael, mom.”

  “That’s true,” Kate had laughed as she was changing the diaper on Jewel’s first born, Baby Jared Jr.

  “But you’re really his girlfriend and don’t even know it.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said…you can’t even see yourself. Whenever you let your hair down and take off those glasses—you’re still a hottie, mom. You’ve got the face and the sexy curves of a thirty-five year old. And I know you don’t want to know this, but I’ve seen Vincent get a hard on watching you…when you weren’t watching him.”

  “Jewel!”

  “It’s true, mother. Vincent Bonn doesn’t see you as any Auntie or Play Mom—he has a mother. What Vincent wants is to fuck you. And you know what? I think you should let him.”

  “Oh my god—Jewel shut up!”

  “But why not? You’re single, you’re hot looking—Vincent’s got a great body and he’s gorgeous and he’s really into you. Why not let him hit it mother?”

  In a society where people couldn’t handle Olympic champion Michael Phelps smoking marijuana or singer Jessica Simpson putting some meat on her bones—Kate Nixon, though she was a Psychiatrist, was still an active member of that society. It was a society that had formed and molded her into who she was.

  “I am not a Cougar!” she snapped at Jewel. “And do not talk that way in front of my grandchild. What is he going to think of his grandma?”

  Jewel laughed as her mother picked up Baby Jared and started rocking him on her shoulder. She was seriously embarrassed for her “infant” grandchild to hear that somebody wanted to fuck her. Jewel said, “He’s only a baby, mom—he can’t understand what we’re talking about. Just stop being scared; stop acting like Vincent’s feelings for you are dirty. They’re not dirty.”

  “Vincent was your brother’s best friend—he’s a kid!”

  “Mom, Vincent is over six feet tall with a big hard knot in his Speedos and hair on his chest—he’s not a kid!”

  “Do you always have to talk so vulgar, Jewel?”

  “I’m sorry, mom, but you have really started acting like a boring old soccer hag the last few years, especially after Michael’s death—I believe that what you need is a good down-in-the-dirt fuck. And since you’re at an age where you don’t want to be bothered with strings and obligations—a horny younger man is just the one who needs to give you that fuck.”

  “Don’t listen to your mother’s vulgar mouth,” Kate whispered into Baby Jared’s ear. Then she shot an icy glance at Jewel and said, “This discussion is over.”

  KNOCK-KNOCK.

  Both ladies looked to the back door and noticed the silhouette of a very tall and muscular man standing on the back porch. “Hello—UPS guy!”

  3

  Nineteen year old Olivia was lying on the bed as her soft porcelain white hand slid beneath the pink silk of her panties and began fingering the lips of her vagina until wet ocean mist was rising out of her pussy pores.

  “Oooh, he’s so fine,” she cooed closing her eyes. She was thinking of Dex Kellogg, the super gorgeous UPS guy that always delivered to her mother’s house.

  Though she was a pretty girl and had several guys begging to be her boyfriend—there was only one that she constantly fantasized about being fucked by—and that was Dex, the UPS guy.

  4

  “Hey there,” Jewel said as she opened her mom’s kitchen door and smiled at Dex Kellogg as he was standing there holding a package addressed to her mother. “Hey Jewel—how’s your baby boy and the husband?”

  “They’re great,” she answered. Perturbed that he knew she was married and had seen her pregnant. After all—every since that night, almost three years ago, when she’d seen him do his strip act at CANDY MAN, she’d had the serious hots for him. Married with kids or not, deep in her secret mind, she knew damned well that if Dex Kellogg ever wanted to get some from her—he could.

  Casually, Jewel signed for her mother’s package—but while she was doing that—Kate walked over to the sink to rinse out Baby Jared’s baby bottle, and for the first time since he’d been doing that route—Dex Kellogg got a good look at the woman doctor who actually lived there.

  Looking past Jewel’s hair and shoulder, he asked, “Who is that?”

  “OH—that’s my mom. The lady you always deliver to—mom, can you here for a minute? I want you to meet Dex—he’s your UPS man and he’s the nicest guy.”

  Kate’s housekeeper, Marcella, had told her about this gorgeous calendar model type guy who delivered packages, but she’d never actually been home to see or meet him.

  “Hi there,” Kate smiled with an outstretched hand.

  “So you’re the lady doctor?” Dex grinned, flirtatiously. As they shook hands, Dex said, “I finally get to meet you. I’m Dex Kellogg—but please, just call me Dex.”

  Instantly, as their smiling eyes met, there was this spark—what they always call chemistry, Jewel thought to herself as her mom and Dex seemed so animated with each other.

  “Dr. Kate Nixon, and it’s nice to finally meet you, too, Dex.”

  Of course, what Jewel didn’t think about, was the fact that Dex had spent many years dancing and stripping at parties for much older women; having them shove money down his underwear and run their hands over his chest, thighs and buttocks. He was often more comfortable with those types of women, because from them, he always received worship and security. And in the case of Dr. Kate Nixon—she was just really, really attractive and sexy looking for her age.

  She hadn’t left for work yet—so she hadn’t put her hair up in a bun or slipped on her eyeglasses yet.

  “Forgive me for saying that you don’t look like a stale old doctor type,” Dex told Kate.

  “Why thank you, that’s very nice of you.”

  Kate had her package and fine, sexy ass Dex Kellogg was walking back to his big brown truck.

  “So that’s him,” Kate said as her daughter closed the door to the back porch.

  “Isn’t he to die for? Fucking gorgeous!”

  “Well you just remember that you’re married young lady.”

  “Oh, I would never cheat on Jared.”

  “Well, that’s good,” said Kate. “Because I never cheated on any of my husbands and I didn’t raise you to be a whore either. That’s a biggie with me.”

  “I know mom,” Jewel responded, sweetly. But up the crack of her pussy an
d back up the crack of her ass—she was wetter than a country creek over her desire to be fucked by the UPS guy. And lately it was more than just her fantasies about Dex—there were several guys she was hot for—but the ring on her finger always brought her back to earth; back to reality.

  “You be good and take care of the baby—I’ve got to get to work.”

  “I’m going to get back to my apartment and watch Chloe the cum-catcher fuck over Lucas on ‘Days of Our Lives’. You have a nice day, mom.”

  5

  Kate had to deal with one of her toughest patients that afternoon—the former soap opera actress and legend of daytime, Patricia Jean Carol.

  “After six Emmy nominations and twenty-eight years making that show a daytime classic…those fuckers fired me!” Psycho Patricia shouted as Kate’s gorgeous young secretary, Cola Monroe, put a few more ice cubes in Patricia’s glass of scotch.

  It was Cola, the model-looking black receptionist that had nicknamed Patricia “Psycho Patricia,” and though Kate wasn’t happy with her patient being called that—the soap legend herself insisted that she be called by it.

  “I love that nickname, and I will always love Cola for her naked honesty and affection,” Psycho Patricia had slurred. “That’s all I ever wanted in this business—some damn honesty and some affection. Not these goddamned liars, fruits and suits that smiled in my face and then fucked over me because they wanted to cast a bunch of no-talent teenagers on that goddamned soap opera!”

  “Patricia—you’ve been off the show for ten years now,” Kate said while adjusting her glasses on her nose. “I mean at some point, you have to…”

  “Do you see how fucked up my face is from plastic surgery!?” Psycho Patricia hissed, indignantly. Not only was Kate treating her for Sex Addiction, but she looked absolutely ridiculous with blond hair and her face was devoid of any subcutaneous fat; just stitched backwards and mannish looking with pointy features and huge eyes. Hot for some cock at that very minute, Patricia crossed and uncrossed her legs and said, “All because I was trying to stay young enough, trying to please the fruits and the suits—and don’t forget those Jewish motherfuckers, the sponsors, and Queen Fat Ass Phelps with her obsession over expensive sets. The ratings went down and they blamed every actor over forty. But no—after Harding died, we didn’t have a writer for god sakes! It was the writing that started to suck, not us veterans! We were still as regal and gifted as ever.”

  Cola lit Patricia’s cigarette.

  “Thank you darling,” Psycho Patricia said as she puffed on it.

  “You all set?” Cola asked.

  “Yes—I’m perfectly satisfied with all the attention and star treatment I’m receiving—and so deserve. Thank you Dr. Kate. And you, dear sweet Cola, get back to your reception desk.”

  After Cola closed the door, leaving doctor and patient alone, Patricia said, “I wish I could suck that girl’s pussy—but you say she’s not amused?”

  “Cola’s not a lesbian, Patricia.”

  “Well neither am I! But hell—sex is sex.”

  “I forbid you to make any type of sexual advances towards my workers, Patricia. Now have you been doing your breathing exercises and keeping your diary?”

  Suddenly…the timbre of the room’s atmosphere changed.

  Psycho Patricia became very serious and melancholy as she said, “What I’ve been doing is thinking a lot about what I’ve done to my children.”

  Many years before, when Patricia had been a beautiful brunette and at the apex of her soap stardom, featured nearly every day in the very best storylines—she’d taken one of her buff, handsome male co-stars home and let him fuck her brains out on the pool table in the game room of her house.

  Her son Billy, only ten at the time, had walked in and saw them. And because of the trauma of seeing his mother being fucked so brutally—Patricia believed that she had stunted Billy into growing up and becoming a homosexual.

  That same co-star, she had only recently found out, had also molested her daughter Jenny during that time. And after years of being a reckless, troubled bar-slut—angry, young and beautiful Jenny had been found naked in a parked car murdered.

  “It’s all my fault—because of the way I lived,” Patricia sobbed to Kate helplessly.

  She drank the scotch, puffed on the cigarette and wished she could overcome what haunted her. But now her daughter was dead, and though she could never be sure that her indiscretions had made her son gay by catching her, her ignorance and homophobia convinced her that it was because of her that her son had stopped speaking to her, moved very far away from California and gotten married to a man. And now, after losing her kids, there was no going back. Sexual addiction was Psycho Patricia’s only way of punishing herself. Seeking studly young men to slap her around before fucking her, violently, she specialized in humiliation and abuse.

  Crying profusely, she said, “It’s all so crucial—what we do in front of our children’s eyes and who we bring into our homes. One false move and we can lose everything we hold dear.”

  “Yes, I know” Dr. Kate responded as she handed Patricia some Kleenex as though they were playing a scene from Patricia’s soap opera days. “Being a mother carries great responsibilities.”

  6

  RING-RING

  It was way past midnight—in fact it was one o’clock in the fucking morning! Who would be calling at that hour?

  Kate Nixon forced herself awake and answered, groggily. “Hello!”

  “You asleep?” Psycho Patricia giggled, nastily. “I just wanted you to know that he’s coming up the stair case to fuck me now.”

  Kate tried to recognize the voice. “Who is this?”

  “It’s me, Dr. Kate! Your idol—six time Emmy nominee.”

  “Patricia!”

  “I just met this black guy at 7-Eleven…your criminal looking type with the muscles and all; needy of money,” she laughed. “Oh my god, he’s going to fuck the shit out of me and kick my ass, Dr. Kate.”

  In the background, Kate could hear the deep ethnic voice of a young black stud. He was saying: “So what’s up…why you playing games with a brother ‘n shit?”

  To Kate’s shock, his voice made the nipples on her breast harden. There was a chill that quivered her vagina.

  Psycho Patricia had put down the phone and Kate could hear her saying with an actressy tone, “I’m playing games because I’m a sexy white privileged lady and with the blink of an eye, I own your ghetto ass.”

  “Yeah, y’all white bitches be knowing y’all have that sweet sugar cream that drive motherfuckers crazy, don’t you?”

  Dr. Kate Nixon couldn’t put down the phone. Listening in, she started touching herself.

  “So why you bring me up here, huh?”

  On the other end—Patricia was stuffing a wad of cash in the guy’s shirt pocket and staring up into his mean dark eyes as though she were a doe-eyed virginal young girl.

  “Can I lick the bottom of your shoe?” she asked in a ridiculous young girly-girl voice. The sound of it made Kate touch herself harder and deeper.

  “If that’s what you want to do.”

  Psycho Patricia got down on her knees and started licking the bottom of the black guy’s sneaker. Then she licked her way up to the denim covering his knee and then finally—she licked the zipper of his crotch.

  “Yeah, you one of them freaky ass white bitches that like to suck a nigga’s dick ‘n shit, ain’t you?”

  He started unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants, which had already been hanging off his butt, around his ankles. He stepped out of them and pulled down his boxer shorts so that his dick sprung out hard and throbbing.

  Psycho Patricia began swallowing and sucking it.

  “Yeah—suck that dick.”

  Pure fire went through Kate Nixon! She could actually hear Patricia slurping on it. Definitely, Kate was ashamed and embarrassed of herself—but this was also the first time in years that she’d felt her pussy getting wet.

 
“What you say?”

  “Slap me,” Patricia murmured with a mouth full of cock. Then the black guy whacked her across the side of the head, but with a safe pressure one would use for sex-play.

  “It seem like I seen you somewhere before.”

  Patricia pulled back and shook out her long blond-dyed hair. “That’s because I used to be one of television’s biggest stars. Did you mother ever used to watch soap operas?”

  Psycho Patricia went back to sucking and the black guy said, “Yeah, that’s where I saw you—when I was a teenager over my girlfriend house. She’d be watching her stories ‘n shit. And you’d be blackmailing motherfuckers and taking private jets and faking like you was paralyzed and couldn’t get out of a wheelchair ‘cause you wanted rich white home boy’s money ‘n shit.”

  “Oh yeah,” Patricia snorted with a gutsy bravado laugh. “I was the bitch of that show!”

  Black guy casually slapped the shit out of her. He said, “Stop talking and suck this big black dick, bitch.”

  On the other end, Kate could hear it, and it brought back memories of when she had been with her husbands and would be giving them head—especially Hank, her last husband, who had finally gotten her comfortable with sucking a man’s dick.

  Kate had never been with a black guy, so all she could think about was Hank’s stiff ivory rod and how pretty the olive-white skin of a white man’s penis is; the pinkish head; the vein down the middle. Hard and thick in her mouth all those years ago.

  Hypnotically, as though lost in her mind’s lost memory room, Hank’s pretty white dick began to sway in and out of Kate’s mouth at just the same moment Psycho Patricia was being grabbed by the hair and shoved over and onto her plush movie actresses’ bed. The young Black stud she’d picked up at 7-eleven jumped on top of her, ripping off her clothes and his clothes, simultaneously, and started ramming his meat-stick up the draping folds of Patricia’s much fucked pussy. Sloshing in and out as Kate not only listened, but could feel the fire of her own vagina as she fingered it ferociously—Hank’s phantom banana dick filling and satisfying a newly remembered female urge to have something deeply personal and masculine in one’s mouth.