Page 3 of The Fed Sex Man

The various shapes, length and girth of a man’s penis fascinated me. I’d spent countless hours looking at them on the internet. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be impaled by one of the record-breaking schlongs of the porn industry’s leading men. Nonetheless, I stood firm in the position I’d taken in our dick-debate.

“So, what happens to all the guys with little dicks?” I asked with a laugh. “Do they wander the earth aimlessly looking for women they’ll never satisfy?”

“They end up with women who have miniature vaginas,” she said matter-of-factly. “Either that, or they stay single forever. Single and searching for that girl with the little va-jay-jay. One that fits their tiny wiener like a fleshy little glove.”

I choked on a laugh. “This conversation is ridiculous.”

She curtsied and turned away. “Glad I can entertain you.”

After unlocking the front door, she propped it open. A hint of freshly cut grass and the sweet smell of honeysuckle replaced the lingering smell of coconut-scented massage oil that permeated through the ventilation system. I closed my eyes and let the aroma of early spring find its way to my nostrils.

“Oh. My God,” Jenny squealed. “He’s coming around the corner.”

My eyes sprung open. “Who?”

“That guy,” she said.

I peered through the window but saw nothing more than a few passing vehicles. “What guy?”

“The one I told you about last week.” She glanced over her shoulder. “The FedEx man.”

Her earlier description of the new driver left little to the imagination. I felt she’d embellished the portrayal of him she’d given, as no delivery driver had ever captured my interest in the manner that she claimed he’d garnered hers.

A handsome man with massive biceps and a million-dollar smile definitely wasn’t the typical hiring requirement for the Allen, Texas FedEx drivers. Repulsive looking men who were six inches shorter than me with sparse beards and bulging calf muscles seemed more the norm.

I nudged my way between her and the doorframe. As I gazed toward the street, his truck came to a stop at the curb in front of us. A quick glimpse of the driver’s profile before he disappeared into the back of the truck was enough to make me feel like a nervous high schooler.

Jenny’s description of him was spot-on. He was handsome, athletic, and filled out his two-tone blue uniform completely.

“Are we expecting something?” I whispered.

“I don’t know,” she breathed. “I hope so.”

I turned away, hoping to seem less interested than Jenny, who was standing in the doorway with her mouth wide open and eyes bulging.

“Don’t look so eager.” I grabbed one of LJ Shen’s books from the display and began pacing the floor as I flipped through the pages. “You’ll freak him out.”

She laughed. “You look guilty as fuck.”

I lowered the book and glared at her. “Of what?”

“Of wanting to get on his dick,” she whispered.

“I don’t want to get on his dick,” I said, even though the thought entered my mind for a fleeting moment. “I was just trying to see what he looked like.”

She gave me a quick look and then shifted her eyes right back to the FedEx truck. “You’re pacing the floor like you’re guilty of something.”

In school, while the other girls dreamed about boys, I spent my spare time in the library fantasizing about faraway lands, alternate forms of life, and escaping Allen, Texas.

I’d since exchanged my pressed button-down blouses for more modern tops, replaced my pleated skirts with a wider variety of options, and wore low heels instead of Oxfords. Nothing changed, though. Since college, I’d become more transparent than when I was in school.

A transparent and everlastingly single nerd.

I still favored reading, but thanks to CD Reiss, LJ Shen, Vi Keeland, and Penelope Ward, my dreams were now filled with being sexually ravished by billionaires, bikers, and badasses. Sadly, my sexual encounters were limited to dreams.

Wild dreams but dreams nonetheless.

When the driver stepped through the truck’s open door and onto the sidewalk, I stopped breathing.