Pizza delivery.

Pizza delivery.Last year my partner and I decided to try and make a go of it again. At the time he was living in a rented terraced house in Cannock, near Cannock Chase but was working Mon-Fri in Manchester, about a hour and a half or so drive north up the M6. He would come home on Friday evenings for the weekend. With me then living in Mid Wales I drove up early Friday morning and got his house ready. We were going to have a good drink and some 'time' together. When I got to Cannock I phoned the local pizza delivery number kept in his kitchen and ordered a right feast, while buying three bottles of his favourite wine and a few cans of Stella. I tidied his house so everything was pristine and lit some scented Yankee candles. The scene was set. He was due home about 6.30pm ish. Showered and made up, I had even put on the new red lingerie bought as a suprise for him. kaçak iddaa Strutting around in my red high heels I felt very erotic and couldn't wait for him to get home.Then the phone rang. Either the water pump or the fuel pump had gone on his Vauxhall and the AA had towed his car to a garage. Apparently whatever the part was, it could be obtained the following morning but he wouldn't be home till Saturday afternoon when the car was fixed. I was gutted. Gutted with three bottles of wine and a few cans of Stella starring at me. I decided to get smashed and replace the booze the following day. Lying alone on my bed at about 8pm, wearing only red high heel shoes and a red g-string, calmly sipping many glasses of white wine and listening to Abba (yes Abba!) I was lost to the world. Suddenly the door bell rang. I ran downstairs, stumbling more than once in my high heels, wondering kaçak bahis who the .... this could be now. Half way there I realised I was still only in my new red lace lingerie and g-string, so I tied it as tight as I could around the middle on the way to the door, where the bell had now gone silent.*I opened the door and there was the pizza delivery lad. I had completely forgotten I'd ordered a pizza for 8pm. It had just gone out of my mind.I had no cash on me, obviously - no pockets in my g-string or robe - so I had to turn round and walk back down the hallway to the kitchen to get my purse. My high heels slipped on the tiled floor in the kitchen and I went down - that wine again. It hurt and I think I yelled. On my hands and knees my robe had come undone and had ridden up part way over my bum, exposing my g-string and an uninterrupted view of my stretched and illegal bahis parted bum cheeks to the delivery lad who had stepped in through the door and into the kitchen thinking I had hurt myself. I had. My knees and hand were grazed.A true gentlemen he stuttered and helped me up, trying to avert his eyes as my robe was now wide open giving him a full view of my cleavage as well. He was blushing bright red as I tried to tie the robe back up. He was nearly as red as me! I paid him for the pizza and followed him to the door, which when opened allowed a strategically timed gust of wind to blow my robe up round my waist. The activity had pulled my g-string tight up between the lips of my pussy and the pizza lad got an additional view of my pubic hair as he was leaving. I didn't give him a tip. I reckoned he had had enough for one night.The poor lad. He was shaking and stuttering. I put some plasters on my grazes and returned to the wine. I remember nothing else after that. I gave my partner the full details the next day when he got home. He found it amusing and erotic. Men!