MR. POSTMAN
One Thursday afternoon I tapped on the screen door
of the new tenants home. I held a letter addressed
to “McNabb,” and I showed it to the blonde
when she finally pushed the screen door open.
“Good morning Madam, is this you?” I said.
She took the envelope from my hand and examined it
carefully. Finally, she said, “Close enough.”
She wore blue jeans cut so short that the cheeks of
her ass hung out the bottom, and she made the envelope
disappear into her hip pocket. She definitely had
my attention.
She’d been flirting with me nearly every day
now, wearing suggestive clothing and greeting me when
I stepped onto the porch with her mail. This day,
she wore a thin, white blouse, loosely knotted under
her breasts to reveal her taut abdomen. Another good
feature.
“Is Mr McNabb returning soon Mrs McNabb?”
She shrugged. Her breasts bounced beneath the blouse.
“When you say ‘Mrs.’ that makes
me feel old,” she said. “Call me Tracey.”
“I like that name,” I said. I handed her
the mail, circulars from the grocery stores and a
magazine addressed to the previous tenants.
“Do you like what you do?” Tracey asked,
then breathing deeply.
“It’s a job,” I said. “Same
as any other, I guess.”
“You ever get lonely, walking around by yourself
all day?”
“Not so much. Someone always takes the time
to say hello.”
“I get lonely,” Tracey said. She toyed
with the knot on her blouse, finally pulling it open.
“All by myself, out here in the middle of nowhere.”
I knew I should have walked away, but I couldn’t
bring myself to leave her, not with her like that.
Tracey unbuttoned her blouse and pulled the material
aside to reveal her breasts. Milk-white where her
bikini top covered them during sunbathing with thick,
pink nipples surrounded by areolae the size of saucers,
her heavy breasts hung like a pair of over-filled
mail bags.
My cock rose to attention, and I swallowed hard.
She reached out and placed one hand on my cheek. Her
fingers felt hot against my skin. Then she slipped
her hand behind my head and pulled my face down to
hers. We kissed, and her tongue forced its way into
my mouth. She pressed herself against me, her heavy
breasts flattening against my uniform.
I stopped resisting and wrapped my arms around her,
cupping the cheeks of her arse in my hands and pulled
her crotch tight against mine. I’m sure she
could feel my cock straining against her through the
fabric of my uniform shorts.
The mailbag slipped off my shoulder, slapping against
Tracey’s thigh and surprising her. She stepped
back, took my hand and pulled me inside the house.
The living room was nearly empty with only a chair
and a television to fill the space. Not that I cared.
Tracey unzipped my fly. She reached inside my shorts
and pulled my cock free of the confining material.
Then she lowered herself to her knees and took the
head of my cock in her mouth. She had one hand wrapped
around my cock, and she pistoned it up and down as
her tongue traced the circumference of my glands.
I leaned back against the wall. In all the years I
had been delivering mail, nothing like this had ever
happened to me, and even though I knew people on my
route were waiting for their mail, I wasn’t
about to rush delivery.
Tracey leaned forward and took another inch of my
cock in her mouth, and then another. After she’d
taken in nearly two-thirds of it, she pulled back.
Then she pushed forward, taking even more of my cock
into her mouth. I reached down and wrapped my hands
in Tracey’s hair, holding the back of her head
as she face-fucked me furiously and expertly. My hips
began moving back and forth and, as much as I wanted
to, I couldn’t hold back. I came and came hard,
firing a thick wad of hot spunk against the back of
Jenny’s throat. She swallowed, then swallowed
again. When my cock finally stopped spasming in her
mouth, Tracey licked it clean and then stuffed it
back in my uniform shorts. She licked her lips as
she stood.
“I…”
Tracey silenced me with a finger against my lips.
“Tomorrow,” she said, her voice low and
husky. “Or the next day.”
She reached down for the mailbag and handed it to
me, urging me out the door and onto the porch. I stepped
off the porch and then looked back. Tracey still stood
behind the screen, but she’d already re-buttoned
her blouse.
I hurried
through my route the next day despite a heavy volume
of second- and third-class mail and was disappointed
when I saw the Escort sitting in the McNabbs’
drive. I took a deep breath.
As I approached the porch, the wiry, dark-haired man
I’d seen that first day pushed the screen open.
He stood on the top step and looked down at me. His
right hand was hidden behind his right thigh, but
I swear I saw the butt of a revolver. My cock shriveled,
and my balls receded into my body cavity.
“Another hot day, Mr. McNabb,” I said
as I offered the mail to him.
“Yes, indeed,” he said. He took the proffered
mail with his left hand.
I turned and walked away, all the time wondering if
I’d really seen the butt of a revolver and wondering
what it would feel like to be shot in the back.
For the
next two weeks, I faced the Escort each day, and each
day my hopes sank a little deeper. I didn’t
see Jenny at all during that time and only saw her
husband twice. Once he had his head stuck under the
open hood of the Escort, an odd bulge at the back
of his pants where his un-tucked T-shirt covered something,
and the other time he sat on his front steps drinking
a beer.
He took the mail from my hand that day and dropped
it on the step next to him without looking at it.
“Let me ask you a question,” he said.
He upended the beer bottle and took a long swig. “Nobody
pays attention to a guy carrying the mail. You must
see a lot, know a lot of people’s dirty little
secrets.”
For nearly 20 years, I’d kept what I’d
seen to myself, and I’d certainly seen my share
of strange things. I knew about all the magazines
Mr. Webster received in plain-brown wrappers, and
I remembered the time Mrs. Reily answered the door
wearing a black leather mask and holding a whip. I
knew that Mr. Padbury liked to wear diapers, and I
knew Mrs. Bennett–90 years old if she was a
day–always wore a see-through top on the day
her Social Security check arrived in the mail.
“This is a pretty quiet place, isn’t it?”
he asked. “Nothing exciting ever happens, does
it?” “It sure is a quiet place.”
I answered as I continued on my way.
The Escort
was gone the next day, and Tracey met me at the door
when I arrived. She practically leapt into my arms,
crushing her heavy breasts against my chest and smothering
me with kisses.
“I’ve missed you,” I said.
She stepped away. “Come back tonight, after
dark.”
That day went slow as hell as I anticipated the evening,
even though I had a bit of trepidation. That night,
I parked my car in another street and walked around
to the back door of Tracey’s house.
“I thought you’d never get here,”
she said as she rushed into my arms. Her heavy breasts
smashed against my chest, her crotch pressed tight
against my swollen cock and my mouth covered hers
in a deep, penetrating kiss.
As we kissed, Tracey forced her hand between us and
unfastened my pants. She slipped her hand under the
waistband of my boxers and wrapped it around my stiff
shaft, teasing the head of my cock with the ball of
her thumb. A glistening drop of pre-cum squeezed out
of my cock, and she wiped it away. Then she pulled
her hand from my pants and stuck the ball of her thumb
in her mouth.
I didn’t think my cock could get any harder,
and I was certain it would burst if I didn’t
relieve the pressure soon. We were in her kitchen,
and she led me to the bedroom where she unbuttoned
my shirt and pushed it off my shoulders. She pulled
my T-shirt free from my pants and pushed it up my
chest. Then she bent forward and kissed each of my
nipples before dropping to her knees.
She pulled my pants down to my knees and freed my
rock-hard cock from my boxers. Her warm breath tickled
my swollen cock head, but she didn’t take it
in her mouth. She used the tip of her tongue to trace
a wet line from the base of my cock to the head, and
then down again. She took my balls in her hand and
kneaded them together as she licked up and down my
cock shaft a second time.
Then she pressed her lips against the underside of
my cock and slid them up and down. Just when I thought
I couldn’t take any more teasing, she wrapped
her lips around the head of my cock and spanked it
with her tongue.
I couldn’t hold back. I came.
Tracey swallowed every drop of hot cum and then stood.
She quickly peeled off her T-shirt and shorts and
stood naked before me. Her milk- white breasts were
crowned with ripe, pink nipples, and I took them in
my hands, realizing how heavy they were and how soft
her skin felt as it oozed between my fingers.
We fell back onto the bed. I scooted down and took
one thick nipple in my mouth, teasing it with my tongue
and nipping at it with my teeth. Tracey held the back
of my head, moaning with pleasure as I tongue-whipped
her turgid nipple.
Then I did the same to her other nipple before sliding
lower, kissing my way across her abdomen until I reached
the silky, soft, blonde hair at the juncture of her
thighs. Tracey parted her legs, and I buried my face
between them. I licked her swollen pussy lips, tasting
the warm, salty goodness of her. Then I slipped my
tongue between them, burying it deep inside her.
Tracey moaned and spread her thighs even further apart.
I drove my tongue in and out of her a dozen times
or more, then I found the tight bud of her swollen
clit, and I sucked it into my mouth. I held it with
my teeth and spanked it with my tongue.
Tracey moaned louder, and her hips began bucking up
and down as I teased her clit. Then she cried out,
and her entire body shook as orgasm swept through
her.
By then, my cock had resumed its former stature. I
slid up and onto and into her spasming pussy, burying
my cock deep inside her. Then I drew back and did
it again and again and again.
She wrapped her legs around the small of my back,
hooking her ankles together as I continued driving
hard into her.
Then she came a second time, and then I came, sending
my second wad of hot spunk, bigger than the last,
deep inside her throbbing pussy.
I collapsed on top of Tracey and stayed there until
I caught my breath. Then I rolled off of her and lied
beside her on the bed while she ran her fingers through
my hair.
“I’ve lived here my entire life,”
I told her, “And I’ve never met anyone
like you.”
“Ever travel?”
“I’ve seen postmarks from all over the
world,” I told her. “I thought I might
travel after I retire.”
“When’s that?” she asked.
“A couple of months,” I said. Twenty years
of service and I would only be in my early 40s. “I
already have my passport.”
rolled me onto my back and straddled me. “Think
you can do me again, Mr. Postman? And maybe one day
hot soon we can retire together?” |
