Doorstep Service
Taut thighs tensed as their owner pumped away. Leaning shoulders forward, she reaffirmed her grip and kept a quick pace. Almost there, almost there. A pool of sweat collected at the small of her back, over her neck and stained the fur of her brow, dripping down her muzzle. Breath snorted through her nose in a startled stream. Suddenly, she sat up straighter, muscles locking up. She jerked.
Blossom stopped her bicycle.
Dropping the kick stand down, she stood up off of the bike, groaned, and stretched her legs. This stop was out in the 'burbs, about two miles out of her regular route, and the hills had given the deer quite the work out.
She needed to tidy up. First came off the helmet, letting her flick free long, black-tipped ears and shake her braid out, the tight, ropey bit of mahogany falling down past her shoulder blades. Next she snagged a drink from her clamped on water bottle, then the opening of a wet nap. A quick cleaning left her refreshed and less sticky. Though she had to go by touch to ensure a cow lick hadn't been left behind. Finally she collected her uniform hat, slipped it on and adjusted her ears.
Ready for business.
The address on the mailbox corresponded with the one on her clipboard. It took a moment of rifled through the envelopes sitting in the bike's rear basket before she spotted the matching name. Snatching the letter, Blossom turned and strolled up the walk.
Sneakers clacked up the two age-cracked steps leading up to the paint-desperate mini-porch, past the broken down recliner in the corner, right to the mat reading "UnWelcome". She punched the doorbell and waited.
And waited.
No sounds from within after two minutes, so she gave the door a solid knocking. Company policy dictated she had to wait fifteen minutes. The door better be answered, given how long it took her to peddle out here. Seeing as a Ford truck was sitting in the driveway, the client was home. After a second knock, the woman turned, cocked her hips, and looked over the neighborhood.
Take the picture perfection of suburbia and let it age a good ten years. Duplexes in need of mending, shaggy lawns and an occupation of weeds, children's toys strewn across the lawn down the block. A general decay of the middle class neighborhood into middle aged sloth.
After three minutes on the doorstep, a clucking from the latches commenced. Shluck, the door pulled from the jam and swung with a lazy squeak inwards.
Despite Blossom's ears canting to the sound, she didn't turn. Her pelvis remained tilted, the position showing off the tight beige uniform shorts that put a picture frame around her tight peach of an ass and teardrop tail. Those shorts were cut high too, putting on display the deer's pride and joy, legs sleek and chiseled that went up to her neck.
"Hello, can I help you?"
There was a certain groggy gruffness to the voice that greeted her. Blossom turned, finding the voice fit well with its owner. She had to look up to meet the lazy hazel eyes. A grey goat in his later twenties, fur still mussed from sleep, his much darker dreadlocks all askew. Solid, bare chest, broad shoulders, and he must have thrown on a pair of well-worn jeans from last night, given the speckling of food stains.
"Hi, Sir." Blossom smiled, chipper and professional as always. "Are you..." Glancing at her clipboard, "Laum Katar?"
Straightening, the goat snuffled, visibly waking up at the sound of his name. "Yeah." He reached up to tug at his chin-tuft absently.
The clipboard was turned around and dropped, hovering just below her modest bust, contained in a mostly unbuttoned beige uniform shirt tied beneath them. Naturally, Laum's eyes followed. "Sign please." She passed over the clipboard, a pen, and the envelope.
As he took it all, Blossom said by way of distraction, "Nice horns." Said horns looked like flat, folded spiraling pasta, etched all over with Arabic writing. "Does it say anything?"
Laum looked up. "Huh? Oh, thanks." He glanced back down at the clipboard, finding the signature line. "Yeah, just how badass I am."
But the deer wasn't listening. As soon as Laum's eyes were on the clipboard, Blossom eased down silently onto her kneepads.
Well practiced fingers snapped open the button, peeled the flaps open like a banana, and in went her nose. Out laved her tongue, licking across the goat's sheath. Given that deer smell with their tongue, she got both his aroma and taste in one hit: in need of a shower, but still serviceable. Something she was used to; most clients weren't fresh. He hadn't jerked off recently, that's for sure.
The goat made a sudden sound, like the hybrid of a bleat and a curse. Blossom paid no attention, tongue probed the opening. It sank just past the lip, tickling that oh-so-sensitive interior, before Laum jerked his hips backwards with a surprised gasp.
"Hh-Uhhh... what are you doing?"
Tilting her head enough to raise big blue eyes to the goat, the delivery girl replied as though she'd answered this a hundred times, "Going down on you." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "BJ-O-Gram." A hand had taken up the slack for her muzzle's momentary distraction, fingers squeezing over the plumping sheath, thumb smoothing over the emerging head.
Laum's expression, one of bemusement barely contained with an almost insufferable smirk, was enough to make the deer pause. "What?"
"I'm kind've into guys."
Glancing back up again, Blossom said neutrally, "Oh." A customer always has the option of saying "Stop", and the employee must accommodate. Expressing a lack of interest qualified as a stop, and the company didn't exactly hire men. Besides, she wasn't going to worry about a job she didn't have to do. Squaring her shoulders, she leaned backwards, and started to get up. "Sorry to both-"
"Wait wait, that's okay." A grin started to bubble across his lips. "It's not like I haven't experimented with women. And a muzzle's a muzzle..."
Blossom couldn't help but smirk. "Not going to look a gift blowjob in the mouth?"
Confirmation came with a smile.
Laum stepped forward and closed the door, then propped his ass against it. Perfect way to avoid stumbling when knees gave out at an inopportune moment, mussed the doe.
She stuffed her paw into his jeans, cupping his nuts while she smeared the growing cocktip all over her lips. Said balls were rolled in her grasp, squeezed and tugged as careful as eggs, while her thumb dragged down the crease between them. Up came her paw, unearthing his sac from the denim confinement.
By now the goat's hard-on was raging, a fat reddish seven incher. Blossom wasted no time in nuzzling the soft brown fur of her cheek along his flesh, all the while gazing up at him with a look that was far too innocent for someone who had him by the balls. Clients loved that. Then she took to lapping up his underside, tracing the veins up to his tip, where with a swirl, she took his monster into her mouth.
First thing's first: she slid her hot mouth downwards until her nose pressed into his dense crotchfur. With his cockhead nestled into her throat, she swallowed once, twice, and then slowly eased backwards to his head for nursing diligence and a bit of tugging. There it came down to having equal parts suction and bobbing, while her tongue flirted with the head. Once she got the rhythm going, it was just a matter of zoning out until the tale tell signs of orgasm approached. Pretty consistent formula, but it got results; most clients cum fast. Then off to the next one.
While the constant blowjobs can do terrible things to her neck, and leave her a little horny some times, it's good pay. Lets her get her exercise too. Vaguely she was aware of the envelope being opened. Probably a congratulation of some sort, or a "Dear John" letter - she didn't care. Laum chuckled above her, and she kept on bobbing away.
After a few moments, a tap came to her forehead, followed by two fingers pressing against it to slowly ease her back.
Swiveling her gaze upwards, Blossom pulled back off of him, replacing her mouth with her paw. "In my mouth or on my face and tits?"
The goat couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, but I'm no where near blowing."
"Huh?" The deer scrunched her brows up.
Laum leaned back against the door and shrugged. He finally answered while tugging at his chin tuft. "You're kind of... boring."
Blink. The doe stared up at him. "Excuse me? Are you saying I'm not good?"
"Not that. You just look like you're doing math in your head while you're working on me. There's no..." Groping for a word, he finally smiled lecherously. "Work ethic. There are two kinds of people who give bad head: those that aren't very good at it, yet want to get you off, and those who just aren't interested in doing it in the first place."
In her experience, clients have always been so happy to be getting head in the first place they've never complained. Not since the teeth incident. It had never occurred to her that someone with more fellatio experience, let alone likely sucked a dick or two in their day, would have a problem.
For some reason, Blossom wasn't pissed. Instead, she smiled and cocked her head. "Whatever happened to the old 'beggars can't be choosers'?"
"But I didn't beg," retorted the male with a show of flat teeth. "This is a gift. And since I can't return it for something more my tastes, I'm going to milk the most out of it."
Cervine lips pursed. He had a point, aside from the one in front of her nose just starting to lose its wind. Then there was the appeal of getting off a guy who was for the most part not attracted to her, someone who was unaffected by her default technique. For the first time, a real challenge.
One look at the waning erection was enough to convince.
He was in her mouth just like that. Gripping his base tight, the doe's head started to bounce forwards with a quickness, though with each bob, her head tilted at a certain diagonal with each backwards pull, occasionally the motion so exaggerated in one direction that it scraped the goat's cocktip across the inside of her cheek. On one such instance, she stretched that cheek all over the front of his arousal, and wedged it between cheek and teeth, the skin plastered across flesh while the side of her smile ground in a slow, unrelenting grate across his skin. That got him on the tips of his hooves.
"Th-ah-ah-ahhhts better," he bleated.
Easing him back between her lips, Blossom pinned the tip of his dick against the roof of her muzzle with her tongue, and began to rock her head forwards. All those ridges lining the top of her mouth dragged over skin, coaxing a sudden bucking enthusiasm from Laum.
Down her throat he went. Much like a pitcher who can't toss a fastball, if you're in this business and can't deep throat, you're outta there. As those muscles rippled over the end of his shaft, her tongue pushes past her lips, over the wrinkles of his sheath, to slurp along the tops of his nuts, leaving a wet trail behind.
She had just adjusted her breathing to be utterly comfortable with him down her throat when a hand settled on her uniform hat, and began to urge her head backwards. Blossom just came up off him and looked upwards.
Laum lifted both hands in a surrender gesture. "Sorry, no, you're good," He assured quickly. His breath was short and voice a hint strained. "Just not the biggest fan of deep throating, that's all."
It was time for extreme measures. She'd spent enough time on this client, and wasn't going to wait around trying to impress him for her professional pride. As she jerked him off, the doe slipped a digit into her mouth, wetting it real good. Back onto him she went, bobbing her head not with the force of her neck, but instead getting her whole upper body into the motion, allowing her to go faster.
Except, that wasn't her focus. An adjustment of her stance and nudging of her knees spread his legs just a little to accommodate her, providing room to slip her hand between his thighs. Then up behind him, until her now wet finger slid up under his tail. Pressing down on the pucker there elicited a sudden hiss, and when she started firmly tracing, Laum bucked into her face.
"Meh-eh-eh!"
Taking that as a sign of approval, her finger dug inwards, just up to the first knuckle. Relatively tight; must be a top. From there it began to swirl in circles, tugging playfully at the elastic ring of his pucker. Laum pushed back, grinding her hand against the door, which sunk her deeper inside.
After wiggling her digit around, she found what she was looking for. Lurking just beneath a layer of skin was a bulge about the size of a grape, delicately throbbing. She began to strum it in time with the roll of her muzzle, occasionally scratching with her nail.
Laum gave a sharp bleat, shoving himself right down her throat, then back onto her hand. A terrible scraping noise filtered into her ears. Fingers quickly tapped her shoulder.
Immediately she pulled back until her lips hooked behind the flange at the base of his tip and began to toss her head. The motion tugged at his tip like a puppy playing with a ragdoll. All the while putting pressure tight on the bulb.
A hot, wet wad of spunk hit the back of her throat. Immediately she stopped and started sucking, bouncing her muzzle. Eyes rolled upwards, stealing a look of the goat's nostrils flared, eyes clamped tight, teeth gnashing at the air. She loved to watch people come. Then a stray thrash of Laum's hips yanked the shaft out of her lips after one swallow of the goat's gunk. Once released, the shaft bobbed about, sending spurts errantly
Blossom's head jerked down reflexively, hiding her eyes behind her cap's bill. As per her training. Wetness hit the top of her muzzle, smearing down one side close to her nose. Another streak splattered along her cheek, followed by waning threads of the sticky jism sputtering along her chin. Her top was tied in such a fashion as to be easily peeled open; had he been into her, she'd have whipped it open to catch the dribbles. Instead, the doe lets them leak onto her tongue. As his climax waned, she fluttered the tip of her finger across his prostate, coaxing tensed thighs and little huffing grunts from him.
Laum leaned heavily against the door and began to sink downwards. Quickly, Blossom pulled her finger out from inside of him, eliciting a groan from the goat. He settled onto his ass at the base of the door. Above his head, long, nasty grooves had been scraped into the wood by his horns. Ouch.
Down dropped the doe, her mouth moving carefully across the over sensitive tip, nursing away to clear out whatever was left in the pipes, and wipe up any mess she missed.
Finally she leaned back on her haunches and peered at him, pleased. "Good?"
"Yeah," is all he could manage between breaths.
Blossom scooped up the dropped clipboard and hoisted up onto her sneakers. She promptly spun and started towards her bike and store of wet naps, teardrop tail flicking.
"Hey wait!" The call turned the doe around. "You earned a tip there."
Licking smudged lips, Blossom spared a grin. "I think you all ready gave one."
The expression was returned, though Laum still looked thoughtful. "What's your name?" When he received a dubious expression, the goat held up both hands in defense. "I think your boss ought to find out how good you are."
"Oh." After a moment, she finally conceded. "Look under Sex in the yellow pages. Oral Occasions. Ask for Ellie. I'm Blossom." With a parting wave, she skipped down to her bike and started cleaning up.
All in a day's work.