The Anniversary Gift

The doorbell rang, a shrill, unexpected sound that cut through the thick silence of the house. Mark looked up from his newspaper, annoyed. It was his and Sarah's anniversary, and the silence was a familiar, if uncomfortable, part of the tradition. He sighed and went to the door, pulling it open.
Standing on the porch was a vision that made the humid afternoon feel even hotter. The delivery man was tall, with skin was rich and dark, with a smile that could melt asphalt. He wore the company's polo shirt, but it was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, revealing a smooth, muscular torso glistening with sweat. He held a massive arrangement of three dozen deep red roses.
"Delivery for Mark?" the man asked, his voice a low, smooth baritone.
Mark blinked. "That's... me. But I didn't order any flowers."
The handsome delivery man just grinned. "Doesn't say who they're from. Just a name and an address. Happy Anniversary, man."
The words hit Mark like a physical blow. He took the heavy, fragrant bouquet, the scent of roses filling his lungs. He felt a confusing mix of gratitude and dread. "Thanks," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
The delivery man leaned against the doorframe, his easy confidence radiating from him. "Tough day?"
Mark let out a short, bitter laugh. "You have no idea." He gestured vaguely with the flowers. "Twelve years. That's how long it's been since... you know. Since my wife and I... well, you know."
The delivery man's expression softened with genuine sympathy. "Damn, man. That's a long time to be going without."
"Tell me about it," Mark said, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Hey, mind if I use your restroom?" the delivery man asked, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "It's brutal out here."
"Uh, yeah, sure. Down the hall, first door on the left," Mark said, stepping aside.
The man nodded his thanks and disappeared into the house. Mark stood in the entryway, clutching the roses, feeling more alone than ever. A few minutes passed, and then he heard footsteps. He looked up, and his jaw dropped.
The delivery man was walking back down the hall, completely naked. His body was even more impressive than Mark had imagined, all chiseled muscle and powerful lines. And between his legs swung a thick, heavy cock, already hard and jutting out from his body with urgent need.
"Problem is," the delivery man said, his voice a low growl, "all this heat and talking about your situation... well, it got me thinking. A man shouldn't go without." He stopped in front of Mark, his erection bobbing with the movement. "And neither should you."
Mark's mind went blank, his body responding before his brain could catch up. He could only stare at the magnificent cock before him, the scent of the roses mingling with the man's raw, masculine scent. He set the flowers down on a small table, his hands trembling.
The delivery man closed the distance, his hands gently cupping Mark's face before pulling him into a deep, commanding kiss. Mark melted into it, years of pent-up frustration and longing flooding out. The man's hands moved to Mark's shirt, unbuttoning it with practiced ease, then to his pants, which soon pooled around his ankles.
They ended up on the plush living room rug, the soft fibers against Mark's bare skin. The delivery man was an expert, his touch both firm and tender, his mouth exploring every inch of Mark's body. He spread Mark's legs, his fingers probing and preparing him until Mark was writhing with anticipation.
Then, with one slow, deliberate push, the delivery man entered him. Mark cried out, a mix of pain and overwhelming pleasure as the thick cock filled him completely. The man began to move, his powerful hips thrusting in a steady, deep rhythm that hit every nerve ending. Mark was lost to the sensation, his body being used in a way he hadn't experienced in over a decade. He was being fucked, thoroughly and completely, and it was incredible.
The pace quickened, the delivery man's breathing becoming ragged. He gripped Mark's hips, pulling him onto his cock with even greater force. "I'm gonna cum," he grunted, his voice thick with impending release.
Just as he said it, the front door swung open. Mark's wife, Sarah, stood there, her eyes wide as she took in the scene: her husband of twenty years, naked on the floor with a huge man buried balls-deep inside him.
The delivery man didn't miss a beat. With a loud, guttural roar, he slammed into Mark one last time and erupted, pumping a massive load of hot cum deep into Mark's ass. He held himself there for a moment, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm, before slowly pulling out.
Mark lay there, panting and spent, cum leaking from his well-fucked hole. He looked at his wife, expecting screams or tears, but she just stood there, a strange, almost satisfied smile on her face.
She walked over to her purse, pulled out her wallet, and handed the delivery man a thick wad of cash. "Excellent work," she said, her voice calm. "He needed that. Thank you."
The delivery man took the money, gave a slight nod, and casually began to get dressed. He winked at Mark as he pulled on his pants. "Happy Anniversary, man. Hope you enjoy the flowers."
As he let himself out, Sarah knelt beside Mark, gently stroking his sweat-soaked hair. "Happy Anniversary, my love," she whispered. "I hope you liked your present."