THE DELIVERY-GIRL
Where Sara was a dreamy girl who was at heart quite insecure, Gianna Sinclair had no such qualms. She had always been a big girl and proud of it. In her younger days she’d been a real bully, stealing first candy, then money from her classmates, who were all significantly smaller than her and also a lot weaker. Her parents had raised her to become the biggest Miss Titan ever and she’d first started lifting weights at the age of three. She was subjected to an extreme regimen of working out for at least four hours a day and was never allowed to eat fast-food.
But that had been before she’d met Mike and fallen in love. She’d hit puberty at a young age, and with the hormones raging through her body, she’d become extremely rebellious. She wanted to spite her parents and because they wanted her to become a sculpted bodybuilder, she had chosen a different path.
Mike was an alcoholic and a drug addict and Gianna had followed him down that path. Not that she’d become an addict, but she’d experimented heavily with different substances. The steroids with which her parents had provided her were replaced by cocaine and meth and the protein shakes by huge amounts of first beer, then stronger liquor. Mike was eight years older than her and more experienced in this world which was new to her and he delighted in getting her drunk, stoned and high as often as he could. But because she was such a big girl, the substances affected her less than they did him, so that she often ended up being bored with him, as he lay on the couch passed out. Needless to say, as she’d grown older and had found out that she could have her pick of all the boys in town, she’d dumped Mike, quite literally, as she had given him such a firm shove while he was driving, that he had been pushed out of the car and had ended up in the hospital. Even though he’d been her first boyfriend, he never had a special place in her heart.
But whereas Mike had been a real dick to her, he had provided her with plenty of alcohol and drugs and since her parents of course wouldn’t pay for this lifestyle of hers, she’d started looking for a job. College had never been a prospect for her and she’d quit school when she was fifteen years old.
She’d almost ended up in the hands of a pimp who had cleverly manipulated her into going to bed with men when she was eighteen years old. The guy had gotten money for selling her out, though Gianna wasn’t even aware that the guys were paying for it.
Theo, the grocer, had known and when he’d told Gianna about it, she’d been so furious that she’d gone over to the pimp’s house, used her massive muscles to turn it into a ruin and threatened to kill him. She’d made him pay all the money he’d earned off her and with these fifteen thousand dollars, she’d bought a little van, taught herself to drive it, and applied as a delivery girl for the local post office. Soon, her van became a familiar sight in Flushing Rocks, always so loaded with packages and her own 260 pounds that its chassis almost touched the road and creaked dangerously whenever she stepped in or out of the vehicle. 
Of course the post company she worked for didn’t have shirts her size, so she had one tailor-made: a quintuple XL that sat very tight around her shoulders and biceps. She always wore shorts, even in the middle of winter, because she felt it would be a crime to cover up calves as firm, solid and gorgeous as hers. As soon as she’d gotten the job, online sales in Flushing Rocks had skyrocketed because of all the men who’d started buying first necessities, then things for which they had no need but that they loved to have delivered at their house. The men made sure they were at home when the deliveries were made and they became strangely adept at finding reasons for their wives to be out-of-doors. For some reason, Gianna also often found the men already standing by their windows as her van drove into the streets.
She was aware of the effect she had on the men and she secretly enjoyed it, though she always pretended to have a short temper and little patience with them. She loved to walk up the stairs carrying a washing-machine with a man walking behind her, ogling her calves.
They would usually offer to help her, but there was never any need for that. A typical washing machine was just hoisted on her shoulder and she would bound up the stairs, three at a time while keeping it steadily balanced there. As an added service, she would take the old one with her as well, which she then sold for some extra profit.
One day, her van had broken down, but rather than calling it in and asking for a day off, she’d made all her deliveries on foot. At one point she was seen walking through the town with two refrigerators, one on either shoulder, and she’d finished her round within the same amount of time it usually took her with the van. She’d even carried a dishwasher all the way to the home of Mr. Bradshaw, who lived twelve miles out of town. He’d offered her a cup of coffee, which she uncharacteristically accepted because he was an old man who, everybody knew, was lonely. When he’d told her that he needed a wheel of his pick-up replaced but didn’t own a jack to lift his car, she’d lifted it for him, giving him ample time to replace the wheel, while at the same time giving him a good look at her legs. She enjoyed the tentpole erection it had caused in his pants and she didn’t care. He’d been a widower for the past fifteen years and she thought he deserved some fun in his old age.
‘No harm in looking, Mr. Bradshaw,’ she’d commented and he’d pretended to be deaf though his face had gone a deep shade of red. ‘I’m sure you visited the Miss Titan contests back in the day. What do you think? Would I stand a chance?’
She’d gone into a full crab pose and the top three buttons of her coat had popped off, while Mr. Bradshaw’s eyes had almost bulged out of his skull. Then she’d given him a nice side chest pose before she’d left.
Whether it was a coincidence or not, that night he was admitted into the hospital after a severe heart attack he’d suffered while jerking off.

De qui tu parles pour ta dernière session? 🤓