Sentient Deep Dish Pizza Pounds Me In The Butt In Fifteen Minutes Or It's Free - (Classic Tingler Revisited)

this week i released new SENTIENT FOOD bundle so i thought i would talk on one of these FOOD BASED CLASSICS here on the patreon. this one is more recent and it is about gettin that butt pounded on time. thats right i'm talkin tingler name of SENTIENT DEEP DISH PIZZA POUNDS ME IN THE BUTT IN FIFTEEN MINUTES OR ITS FREE

i will admit there is a lot goin on in this dang title even for tingler standards. LOTS OF MYSTERY TO UNCOVER HERE. questions of: is the pound itself only 15 minutes? or 15 minutes until the pound starts? what is the charge when it is not free? ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT

i will say of all the tinglers i have written this is one of the most controversial. thats right buckaroos you would think folks would have a lot to say about chucks political tinglers in various ways, but if you really want to get a debate going then write a story about a deep dish pizza and put a pizza on the cover that does not look deep dish.

here is the thing, tinglers take place on various timelines so i personally do not think the rules of 'what makes a traditional deep dish' apply but thats just me. ALRIGHT LETS TROT

Mark is pizza delivery guy who goes above and beyond the call of duty. He likes his job, but he’s also ready to move on and start a pizza business of his own. The only thing standing in his way is a haunting fear of failure.

But when Mark is sent to deliver a sentient deep dish pizza named Norton, everything changes. Soon enough, these two are connecting on a level that is both erotic an inspiring, prompting the two of them to set out on a personal journey toward their mutual future as pizza and pizza lover.

Now, the only thing left is for Norton to get a pizza that ass.

This erotic tale is 4,000 words of sizzling human on gay food action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, and cheese pizza love. 

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SENTIENT DEEP DISH PIZZA POUNDS ME IN THE BUTT IN FIFTEEN MINUTES OR IT’S FREE

By Chuck Tingle

Being a pizza delivery driver isn’t my dream job by any means, but there are plenty of things about it that bring me joy. I get to see the city, driving from location to location and neighborhood to neighborhood. There’s something kind of fun about mentally mapping the part of town I’m headed to without the help of a smartphone, to see if my brain can stitch all of these places together and provide me with organic, internal directions.

I won’t be working here forever, but while I’m studying my way through college it’s a great little side gig. I get to spend most of my time behind the wheel of my van, listening to music and dreaming about what’s next. I’m proud of my ride, which has been customized for accessibility with my wheelchair, and it provides me with a place of glorious solitude after a long days of packed classes on campus.

Today, however, the van is not a place of solitude at all. My friend Bondo is sitting in the passenger seat, hanging out and talking my ear off as I make my rounds. At the moment, it’s a welcome addition.

“Have you heard the new Chuck Tangle And The Buds?” Bondo questions. “Just came out today. It’s such a good record.”

“Put it on,” I reply, nodding toward my phone.

My friend smiles excitedly and grabs the phone, then begins to scroll through my music streaming service. He takes a moment to pick through the songs and then finally makes his choice, pressing play.

Immediately, crashing drums and heavy electric guitars come hammering through the sound system, enveloping me in wonderful sonic waves. I begin to nod along.

I like the song, I really do, but at the moment I just can’t get swept away in it. On paper, this is exactly the kind of tune that I enjoy, raucous and fun and loud, but it’s just not hitting me right.

From the corner of my eye I can see Bondo watching me, my friend trying to gauge my reaction to the song. I push myself to smile, but it just doesn’t feel natural.

Suddenly, Bondo pauses the music.
“What’s up?” my friend blurts.
“Nothing,” I reply, almost a little too quickly. I glance over at him and try

my best to show off an expression of good natured excitement, but it feels just as awkward as when I was trying to smile along.

Bondo raises his eyebrows. “This should be your kind of jam, but I can tell you don’t like it.”

I shake my head. “I like it, or... I don’t know.”
“What is it?” my friend continues, pushing me farther towards introspection.

I take a deep breath and let it out, trying my best to actually consider his question. Eventually, however, I come up short. “I don’t know,” I admit. “Lately, everything seems to feel like this.”

“Can I tell you what I think is going on?” Bondo finally offers, revealing more up his sleeve than he’s letting on.

“Yes!” I cry out, nodding profusely.

“You keep telling yourself that you’re happy to be out here delivering pizzas,” my friend explains, “but I know that you’d rather be pursuing your dreams. I think it’s effecting you more than you know.”

My friend’s words strike deep, sinking into an exposed corner of my psyche that I’d rather not address. In fact, I go to great lengths to keep this part of me private and hidden away.

In this moment, however, I know that he’s right.
I let out a long sigh. “It’s too risky to open up my own pizza place.” “You’ve been saying that since I met you,” Bondo retorts. “Sure, when you

didn’t have anything saved up, it wasn’t going to work, but you’ve made it! You’ve been working your ass off and saving money like crazy, and now you finally have all the financial backing to get this crazy restaurant of yours off the ground.”

“It’s just not the right time,” you reply.
“Then when is, Mark?” Bondo questions.
It’s another zinger from my friend, one that I’m not entirely sure how to

answer. I tell myself how happy I am to be doing this, and sure, it’s fine, but delivering pizza is not where my passion lies.

I wanna make my own pizzas and run my own restaurant. I want to be a chef.

“Soon,” I reply.

The truth of the matter is I’m just saying this to get Bondo off my back. I have more than enough saved up to open Mark’s Pizza, yet something about this prospect still terrifies me to my very core.

It’s keeping me from enjoying the music that I might otherwise love, or appreciating a beautiful sunset like the one that’s blossoming before us, and I know if I just took the leap and opened up my own place the whole world would feel fresh and new again.

But, I can’t. I’m just too damn afraid to fail.

Eventually, I turn off into a driveway, which thankfully cuts our conversation short.

I hoist myself up and move from the driver’s seat to my wheelchair, then pop open the straps that allow it to roam freely. Next, I grab the two large thin- crust veggie lovers pizzas from behind me and open up the van door.

“I’ll be back in a second,” I tell my friend. “Hold on.”

With the pizzas in my lap I cruise down the ramp of my vehicle and then turn and head up the front walk of this beautiful home, arriving at the door and ringing the bell.

Moments later a woman appears, smiling wide as I hand her the pizzas.

“Whoa, that was fast,” the woman admits. “I knew it was fifteen minutes or less, but you haven’t even hit the double digits yet.”

“Company policy is fifteen, I keep it under ten,” I reply.

The woman raises her eyebrows. “Whoa, impressive. You should open your own place so I can start buying direct from you.”

The woman closes her door but the damage of her joke has already been done, another blow to my self-esteem as I look inward and question why it’s so hard for me to take the plunge already.

Her observation is, of course, the secret ingredient to my plan. The competition will get your pizza there in fifteen minutes, but I’ll do it in ten.

As I wheel back to the van I can feel a slight boost in my desire to dive in and start my own business already, but by the time I’ve climbed back into the driver’s seat, I’ve once more convinced myself that it just won’t work.

“I’ve probably got one more delivery before my shift ends,” I tell Bondo. “You wanna come with me, or should I drop you off at home?”

“Are we close to my house?” my friend questions.

“Three blocks to the east and one block north,” I offer. “So yeah, pretty close.”

“I love that you know my neighborhood better than I do,” Bondo laughs.

I make my way back to work and stop by my friend’s apartment on the way, dropping him off and then continuing on for what will likely be one final delivery. It’s been a pretty slow night, so I might just be heading home if nobody else calls in.

I get to the restaurant to find my boss strolling out to meet me in the parking lot. He approaches the driver’s side window, which I roll down.

“Hey, we just had an order,” my boss replies. “Deep dish headed to the neighborhood you just got back from. Head to 1254 Truckman Place.”

I know precisely where this location is, and although I wouldn’t quite consider it the same neighborhood as before, like my boss just stated, I can see how he’d make that mistake.

“Where’s the food?” I question.

“He’s on his way out,” my boss replies. “This is our first deep dish order, so we’re still getting things sorted.”

I glance down at my clock, wondering how much this unexpected delay is going to cut into my deliver time. “Deep dish, huh?” I question.

“Yep,” my boss replies with a nod. Suddenly, he notices some movement within the store. “Oh, here he comes.”

I glance up to see an enormous, sentient slice of cheese pizza floating into the parking lot and making his way around to the passenger side door. He opens it up and climbs.

“Oh,” I stammer, not expecting to find myself in the presence of a living object.

I glance to my boss for some kind of explanation but he simply knocks twice on the side of my van and then turns to head back inside the shop. “Fifteen minutes or it’s free!” he calls out over his shoulder.

I turn my attention back to the living pizza slice. “So, you’re my deep dish delivery,” I offer awkwardly.

The sentient food nods, then extends his hand. “I’m Norton.”
I give him a firm shake. “Mark,” I reply. “It’s nice to meet you.”
There’s an uncomfortable pause, but I don’t allow it to last very long. I had

no idea the pizza tonight would be alive, but now that this fact has come and gone, I’ve got some work to do. There was a slight delay in Norton getting out to the vehicle, which means I’ll have to make up some time on the road.

I pull out of the parking lot and begin our journey over to Truckman Place, trying to shift my focus toward determining the quickest route possible.

After a brief moment, the sentient pizza speaks up.

“You don’t just map it on a phone?” he questions. “I can tell you’re focused on directions.”

“Yeah, sometimes the phone gets it wrong,” I reply, my eyes glued to the road ahead.

The pizza nods. “Oh okay,” he continues.

My attention shifts slightly, allowing me to take a glance at the sentient deep dish from the corner of my eye. I’d been in such a hurry earlier that I hadn’t really had a chance to take him in, and now that I do I find myself struck by an unexpected pang of arousal. There’s no question about it, Norton is very attractive. He’s been perfectly prepared, dripping with whiteish yellow cheese that subtly hints at the red sauce waiting beneath. He’s curious, but he carries a confidence with him that’s hard to ignore, and his smile is absolutely infectious.

While I’m determined to make my delivery on time, I’ve suddenly found myself intrigued.

“Can I ask you something?” I finally begin.
The giant slice of pizza nods.
“I’ve done a lot of deliveries. In fact, I feel like I’m an expert on pizza. I

want to start my own restaurant,” I explain. “But in all this time, I’ve never met a living slice.”

Norton laughs. “Not a deep dish fan?”
I shake my head, confused. “Actually, no. Why?”
The slice smiles. “All deep dish pizza is alive, but you’d probably never

know that if you didn’t order it.”
I’m suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment. I’d spent all this time

talking up my qualifications as a pizza fan, telling him about my dream restaurant and everything else, yet I was still unaware of this simple fact.

Norton can tell that I’m feeling defeated. “Hey, it’s cool,” he offers. “A lot of people don’t know this about deep dish. I’d say nine out of ten thin crust people have no idea, just because they’ve never ordered it.”

Now my mind is racing, this conversation opening up a myriad of unanswered questions. One in particular blossoms to the forefront of my mind, refusing to take a backseat.

“Aren’t you worried?” I finally ask.

The sentient pizza looks confused, not quite understanding the question. “About?”

“Being eaten?” I continue. “You’re a living food and I’m driving you to someone’s house. They’re gonna eat you when you get there.”

Norton laughs. “Well, they’re not gonna kill me!” he blurts.
“They’re not?” I question. “How are they supposed to eat you then?”
The pizza can tell that I’m actually deeply concerned by this, and attempts to

settle down in an effort to take my inquiry seriously. “They don’t eat all of me,” he explains. “Sure, most of my body gets consumed, all the way down to the crust, actually, but then I’ll grow back good as new.”

“Really?” I blurt. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

Norton nods. “Sure, but it’s a job. Most people would rather be doing something else, right? Why haven’t you opened that restaurant of yours yet?”

Again with the restaurant.

“I’m just...” I begin, then stop. Finally, something inside of me crumbles away. Exhausted, I let down my defenses and tell the truth. “I’m scared.” I finally admit.

Norton nods, listening intently.

“I’ve got a business plan, and I’ve saved up a bunch of capital,” I explain, “but working delivery like this is just so easy. I’ve gotten used to it.”

Something about this deeply resonates with the pizza. “I’ve been thinking the same thing when it comes to getting eaten for a living. It’s important to follow your dreams, but sometimes that’s easier said than done.”

Suddenly, I realize where we are. I pull off onto the side of the road, arriving at our destination.

“We’re here,” I begin to say, then stop abruptly.

I realize suddenly the tension between Norton and me has escalated sharply. The two of us sit next to each other in complete silence, our gazes saying so much more than words ever could.

“You really care about pizza, huh?” Norton questions.
I nod, overwhelmed with desire. “Some slices more than others.” Suddenly, we’re leaning toward each other, kissing passionately in a

moment of sweet release. All the tension dissipates, bathing us instead in a wave of warmth and acceptance.

We make out like this for a while, but I abruptly pull back when I remember what time it is. I glance over at the clock.

“We’re about to be late,” I blurt. “If we’re late then it’s free.”

The pizza looks confused. “I thought you had fifteen minutes to make your delivery. It’s only been eight.”

“I try to do it in ten,” I explain. “It’s a personal thing.”

Norton’s eyes go wide. “Whoa, pizza really does mean a lot to you,” he observes.

“It does,” I admit.

Still, neither of us makes a move to leave the van. Instead, we stay just like this in our seats, gazing at one another longingly. The minutes continue to tick down, but we remain firm.

“I feel like this is an important moment,” the sentient slice finally offers with a slight laugh.

“It is,” I reply. “I want you so bad, but I also can’t be late with this delivery.”

“Or can you?” Norton replies. “Maybe the delivery doesn’t matter. Maybe tonight is a night for chasing your dreams.”

“Chasing our dreams,” I counter, reminding the pizza that he’s just as desperate for a change as I am.

We hesitate for a beat, then both simultaneously break out in wide, knowing smiles.

“Fuck it,” I say.

The next thing I know, we’re fervently kissing again, locked in a glorious and loving embrace as the ten minute marker disappears into the past.

Eventually, I pull myself away from Norton, but not for the same reason as before. “There’s something I wanna show you,” I offer, starting the van and pulling off onto the road once again.

“I don’t get it,” the living pizza says, gazing up at the abandoned building before us.

“This is where the dream happens,” I offer, climbing over to my wheelchair, then opening up the van and making my way down the ramp.

Norton follows behind, the two of us cruising over to the front of this empty structure in a dimly lit strip mall.

“I’m gonna buy this place and turn it into Mark’s Pizza,” I explain. “This is it.”

Norton smiles. “It’s amazing,” he gushes.

“That’s not all,” I inform him, pushing against the front door and grinning wide as it drifts open. “They also leave it unlocked most nights.”

I wheel into the empty commercial space and flip on one of the lights, Norton floating along right behind me. We just barely cross the threshold before I spin around and the living food is upon me. The next thing I know, our hands are exploring one another’s bodies, tearing away clothing as we strip each other down. Soon enough, the bare floor is covered in fabric.

I notice my phone starting to buzz in my pocket, my boss’s name flashing across the screen. I don’t care.

“Should you get that?” Norton questions, pulling away for a moment.

I shake my head. “I’m not a pizza delivery guy any longer, I’m a pizza shop owner.”

“A pizza lover,” the sentient food continues playfully, then dives back in.

I continue to explore the topography of Norton’s incredible, cheese covered body, working my way down his perfect chest and chiseled abs until arriving at the sentient pizza’s enormous, rock hard cock.

I hesitate for a moment, teasing him as I trace my fingers along his waistline but refusing to go any lower.

“Please,” the sentient pizza whispers in my ear. “I need you so badly.”

Finally, I relent, wrapping my fingers tightly around the floating food’s giant rod. Norton lets out a long, satisfied groan as I begin to stroke him off, pumping my tight grip slowly up and down the length of his shaft. I can tell he’s enjoying himself by the way that he pumps his hips against me, sitting atop my body in the wheelchair while I work his shaft.

Eventually, I grab Norton by the ass and begin to position him higher and higher across my body, lifting him up until his cock is aligned directly in front of my waiting mouth. Once Norton is in position I open wide, taking his beautiful cheesy member between my lips.

The taste is absolutely incredible, salty and fatty and bursting with flavor. I try not to get too distracted, however, immediately getting to work. I begin to pump my head across the sentient deep dish pizza’s swollen rod, sucking him off enthusiastically while I gaze up at him with cock hungry eyes.

The living food places his hands against the back of my head, guiding me along as he moans and groans above. He’s clearly loving the way that I work him, but he hasn’t seen anything yet.

Eventually, I pull back and allow Norton’s dick to slip away from my lips. I drag my tongue across the length of his delicious cock and kiss the tip playfully.

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for what’s next, then open wide and swallow the sentient pizza’s rod once again. This time I don’t bob up and down, just take Norton’s cock deeper and deeper into my throat. The sentient food’s shaft slides further into me, and as he reaches my gag reflex I somehow manage to relax enough to allow him safe passage. The next thing I know, my face is pressed up tight against the giant cheese pizza’s incredible abs, held in place as I perform this stunning deep throat maneuver.

I hold in this position for as long as I possibly can, allowing Norton’s rod to remain firmly planted within my depths in a stunning deep throat. It seems like I keep him here forever, but finally I’m forced to pull back with a frantic gasp, spit dangling between my lips and the head of his cock in a long, semi-translucent strand.

“Fuck me,” I demand, belligerent with lust now. “Pound me up the ass with that sizzling hot pizza dick.”

I hoist myself higher on the chair and turn around so that my ass is popped out toward him, using the weight of my body to create a perfect angle. I keep myself in place with one hand and use the other to reach back and slap my ass playfully, then grip one cheek and hold myself open for the hungry living food.

“You like what you see?” I question.
Norton nods.
“Then what are you waiting for?” I continue. “Break yourself off a slice.” The sentient pizza doesn’t need to be told again, floating into position

behind me and aligning his rock hard dick with the tightly puckered entrance of my butthole. He teases the rim for a moment and then thrusts deep within, causing a started gasp to escape my throat.

“Oh fuck,” I groan, enjoying the impression of fullness that floods through my body. While my sensation in this area might not be as detailed as possible, I can still appreciate the way Norton pumps in and out of me.

My cock, however, is ready for pleasure, and as I continue to take the living pizza’s slams up my ass, I reach down and begin to stroke myself off in unison.

It’s not long before I fall into a strange polyrhythm with the movement from behind, these two distinct sources of sensation working together to create something wholly unique and wonderful.

“You like taking a pizza my ass?” I ask mischievously, glancing back over my shoulder at Norton as his thrusts begin to gradually speed up.

Soon enough, the sentient food is hammering away at my butthole with everything he’s got, lost in the moment as the two of us fill this empty space with our blissed out moans. He’s throttling my ass like hands frantically pounding dough, utterly beside himself in a carnal haze.

All the while, I’m keeping pace with the pumps of my hand across my shaft. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” I begin to repeat over and over again, the mantra spilling out of my mouth as I push closer and closer to the edge of an inevitable orgasm. With every passing round my voice grows louder until I’m screaming out at the top of my lungs. “I’m gonna cum!”

Moments later, the sensation hits me hard, a tidal wave of orgasm slamming into my body and sweeping me away in its powerful current. I throw my head back and let out a wild scream as the muscles across my frame spasm in beautiful, harmonic unison. Hot white jizz erupts from the head of my shaft, splattering everywhere as my eyes roll back into my head.

The second that I finish, Norton pulls out of me. He wastes no time, floating around to the other side of the chair and hovering a little higher so that his cock is directly over my face. I open my mouth and stick out my tongue, watching as the living pizza pumps his fist across his shaft.

Norton was clearly ready to blow, because he only gets three movements in before howling with pleasure and erupting with a tasty payload of his own. The glorious deep dish flavor is sensational, and I struggle to catch as much of the living food’s pearly seed as I possibly can.

I open my mouth wide, accepting the sentient pizza’s jizz and swallowing hungrily until, eventually, Norton is entirely spent.

Soon enough, the living pizza is floating down to the floor and having a seat, struggling to catch his breath. The two of us are completely fucked silly and exhausted, but definitely feeling satisfied.

“I can’t believe we did that,” I gush.
“The sex, or quitting our jobs?” Norton questions.
“Both,” I reply with a laugh. “I’d been afraid to follow my dreams for so

long and now here we are, a pizza delivery guy and his sentient pizza lover trying to open up a restaurant.”

Norton smiles. “You really want my help?” he asks, clearly flattered.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing it without you,” I reply. “Mark’s Pizza is no more, It’s now Mark and Norton’s.”

The sentient food smiles and nods. “It does have a certain ring to it.” “So you’re with me?” I continue.
The living pizza considers this for a moment. “Just one rule,” he finally replies. “No deep dish.”