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"Ah fuck."

You say as you slowly walk back to your raggedy car with the Papa John's sign mounted on top with a pizza and a gallon of Mountain Dew in your hands. This was the third time you delivered the wrong order to the wrong house.

"What do I do now? Maybe I'll lie to the boss. Maybe I coul-"

You stopped mid-sentence, knowing that no ordinary delivery guy like you could deceive Mr. Schnatter himself. Not like you really wanted to anyways. You had always looked up to Mr. Schnatter, for he was the grand Papa John himself. Even though he had never knew you prior to your current job, you had admired his success in business as well as those beautiful dark brown eyes, luxurious silky brown locks, and dear god that thick body...

You lean on the car door, your raging erection causing you to struggle in opening the door. You enter, contemplating on how to calm lil Jimmy. You immediately place both hands on your dick, rubbing it at ungodly speed. You begin to scream at the top of your lungs. Civilians enjoying their personal time blocks away can now hear you engaging in the most extreme nut in the history of time. Your eyes, emitting light. Your dick, still not limp. Your body, still not satisfied. You need him badly. You need Papa's hard cock inside you at this moment.

Tears swell in your eyes. You remember Papa is married with kids. Would you really ruin such a happy family? Of course you would! Today will be the day you make Papa John yours for good. First things first, you need to appease your dick. You start thinking of starving kids in Africa.

"Delivery Guy! Hello! Are you there!"

You here Papa's voice coming from the walkie talkie. Oh no.

"Uh, umm... yea.... I'm here. What do you need, sir."

"There have been complains about our service. Come to the restaurant immediately. "

A droplet of sweat rolls off your head falling on to your erection.

"Yes Papa...."

What. Wait. W H A T

"SIR, I'M SO SORRY. I DIDN'T MEAN...WELL BECAUSE YOUR NAME IS PAPA AND ALL... UMMM"

Silence.

It's over. Your dream of dating Papa is...well..... just a dream now.

"Get to the restaurant. I'll be waiting." Papa leaves the conversation.

You sadly look at your dick, it's still hard as ever. Your salty tears stream off your face on to your peepee. You stuffed your wiener back into your pants, wiped your face with your crusty cum stained fingerless gloves as you strolled down the street slowly.

"God, why am I such an idiot?"

You expected God to strike your car with lightning and respond "Because you're such a little bitch." But unfortuantly no.

You pull up to Papa John's Pizza, looking defeated. Maybe you should just quit now before your heart shatters even more.


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