Langston glanced at the ticket, added a handful of peppers to the pizza, and shoved it into the oven. He went to the fryer, dumped a measure of frozen chicken wings into the strainer, and dropped it into the oil, which began to bubble and hiss. While he waited for the food to cook, he swept the kitchen, wiped the metal prep table, and made change for an old man with his pants pulled to his moobs. "Thank you, sonny," he said in a trembling voice.
"You're welcome, sir."
A tall, pimply teenage boy with lank, dirty blonde hair that hung to his ears and an icy stare, Langston prided himself on being respectful to his elders. Everyone else his age was a selfish little fuckwit who roasted old people, thus he went in the opposite direction. Old people were cool, too; they told great stories.
When the food was done, he put the pizza in a box and sat it on the counter, took the wings out, and dumped them into a metal mixing bowl filled with homemade buffalo sauce - Frank's Red Hot and butter. He tossed the wings until they were coated, then put them into a styrofoam box with a little plastic container of ranch dressing.
Just as he was slipping the boxes into a red delivery bag, the manager poked his head in from the office. "That order done yet?" he called.
"Running it now," Langston said.
"Be back ASAP," the manager said, "I need you to clean the shitter."
"Yes, sir."
Zipping the bag up, Langston carried it out into the balmy July afternoon. Cars passed in the street and people in light, summery clothes paraded up and down the sidewalk, enjoying the weather. Langston climbed onto his bike, balanced the bag, and took off, heading south on Main. At Cherry Street, he turned west. Small ranch houses with tiny front lawns lined the street and -
Someone stepped out in front of him, and Langston jerked the bike hard to the right. He lost his balance and fell, hitting his knees and elbows on the pavement. Luckily, the pizza landed right side up.
A man with a mustache and bald head stood over him, clad in a long trench coat and a little black bandit mask covering his eyes. He flashed a sick, leering smile and wiggled his fingers in predatory anticipation.
Langston got calmly to his feet and dusted himself off. "Sorry about that, sir," Langston said even though the almost-accident wasn't his fault.
The man sniffed the air and began to salivate. "Is that...pizza I smell?"
"Yes," Langston said.
Two other men, similarly dressed, appeared on either side.
"We're the Pizza Stealin' Boys," the first man said, "and we're going to take that pizza away."
Langston favored him with a blank stare. "No, you're not."
"Oh, yes we are. Get him, boys."
The two cronies fell on Langston. Coming alive, Langston threw out his elbow and clocked one in the jaw, then hit the other one in the stomach with a quick jab. They both stumbled back, and Langston attacked one with a Judo chop. The other grabbed him from behind, and Langston flipped him over his shoulder. The leader came forward, and Langston lashed out with a sick roundhouse kick that sent him reeling.
One of the toadies sucker punched the back of Langston's head, and Langston spun on him, grabbing him by the throat and unleashing a flurry of punches on his midsection. The leader yanked Langston back by the hair, and with a grace and agility that belied his size, Langston did a backflip and wrapped his arm around the guy's neck.
When he was limp, Langston shoved him away and he dropped, joining his comrades on the ground. Langston picked up the bag, got back on his bike, and rode away like nothing happened.
Five minutes later, he pulled up to 1216 Franklin Avenue. The driveway stood empty and Langston knew in a flash that his day was about to get a whole lot more sexual. He parked his bike at the bottom step, climbed the stairs, and rang the doorbell. An instant later, Alex Loud appeared in skimpy black lingerie. A tall half-Hispanic girl with flowing black hair, dark, jovial eyes, and soft curves, Alex leaned against the doorframe and fixed him with a lavacious little smile. Langston's eyes travelled up her long, bare legs and his penis began to stir. "You ordered a supreme pizza and hot wings?"
"I did," Alex said huskily. She stepped forward and ran her hands over his chest. "You didnt forget the sausage, did you?"
Langston grinned.
Alex fisted the front of his shirt in her hands and pulled his lips to hers. They kissed deeply, tongues grappling for dominance, and Alex tugged him over the threshold. He slammed the door behind him and they walked backwards to the couch. Alex spun him around, shoved him back, and mounted him, her knees caging his hips. She slid her fingers into his hair and kissed him, and he brushed the straps of her dress down her smooth shoulders.
Reaching between them, she unzipped his pants and brought his dick out, breaking from his lips and giggling like a naughty girl doing something she knew she wasn't supposed to...and liking it. She curled her fingers around his shaft and skimmed her thumb over his tip, sending a jolt up his back. "I missed you," Alex cooed to his dick.
She put her hands on his shoulders, lifted up, and sank herself onto his dick in one fluid motion. Her wet heat enveloped him and he let out a moan. Tossing her head back, she rocked her hips against his and he stroked his hands up and down her flanks, leaning in to pepper kisses across her throat, collarbone, and shoulders.
When his end came, he hugged her close, thrusted up into her womb, and released, flooding her stomach with warm cum. She shook, twitched, panted, and moaned, and the whole time Langston held her to his chest and kissed the side of her face.
"Alright," she said shakily, "let's eat."
They sat side by side on the couch and pounded pizza and wings as fast as they could, Alex leaking cum and talking with her mouth full the whole time. Afterwards, she walked him to the door, slapped his ass, and said, "Hate to pump and dump, but you better get back to work."
"I feel so used," Langston joked.
"You poor thing," she said. She pushed up on her tippy toes and kissed the corner of his mouth. "What time are you getting off?"
"Six."
"Wanna hit the arcade?"
"Sure."
Langston kissed her forehead, then rode back to work. On the way, he passed the Pizza Stealin' Boys, and stopped to whip their asses again just because.
THE END.
