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The Mail

By: SINderellaBelle



She couldn’t help but touch herself. Her hand had disappeared beneath her shorts and her fingers were now sliding against hot, wet sex. What she read was nothing short of amazing. He had a way with words that stimulated all of her senses, making her tingle deep down inside. Her body came alive and her vivid imagination took over when his stories arrived.

At first, they communicated through email. He’d contacted her after reading one of her erotic stories on a website. She’d replied back and an unexpected intimacy began. Back and forth fantasies and erotic letters flowed…deep, dark secrets were shared…desires and interests were piqued. Then all of a sudden his little teasers and sex fantasies began arriving through the United States Postal Service. She still didn’t know how he’d gotten her address…and the understatement of the year would be to say that she’d been merely surprised to find an envelope from him in the mailbox. Her heart had started pounding at twice its normal rate and she’d squeezed her thighs together tightly against the flooding of her panties.

Holding a piece of paper upon which were handwritten words somehow made their connection much more personal. There were little stains on the paper as well…dried, off-white stains that she knew without a doubt to be his semen. Intentional? Yes, probably. The thought made her smile; sometimes it even made her laugh…but it always aroused her to know that he stroked his cock shamelessly to orgasm as he thought of her, of sending his fantasies to her, of her being the woman he wanted. 

He knew the effect that his erotic musings would have on her. He knew she would stroke herself…touch her steaming cunt and imagine his fantasies becoming a reality. Their desire for each other was true and real. It wasn’t really about looks and physical characteristics, though his older, distinguished, professional appearance didn’t hurt. She herself was young, and somewhat pretty, in a wholesome next door neighbor sort of way way, but nonetheless a sensual, erotic match for him. He found her sexy…a hot little plaything…a naughty piece of virtual ass…and in all of that, her fantasies were fulfilled. 

She put the story down, running the words over and over and over again in her mind. She closed her eyes, and lay her head back on the arm of the couch. Her fingers now stroked faster and deeper within her cunt. Her middle finger found it’s way to her ass and slid inside with ease from being lubricated in her pussy. She loved the feel of fullness it gave her. Her other hand was playing with her nipples, rolling them and pinching them, sending sparks of electricity throughout her body. 

She could almost hear his heated whisper of ‘Fuck me, baby’ as her hips moved with the motion of her fingers, taking them deeper into her body. She wanted his hard body pressing into hers. She wanted his cock to replace her fingers between her thighs. She wanted to be fucked by him. 

She moaned and her body tensed.

“Oh, God.”

Her breathing grew heavy. Her fingers were frenzied over and inside her flesh. And then it happened. She exploded. Brilliant lights flashed in the blackness of her orgasm. Her pussy clenched and released her fingers. Quivers deep inside her body racked her with pleasure as her fingers continued to plunge themselves like a cock.

It was over in moments. All that was left was a smile and a delicious scent of cum in the air. Her body felt like Jell-O and she just lay there, her hand still trapped beneath her shorts. 

Thank God the mail would come again tomorrow. 

* * * * *

© 2001 SINderellaBelle All Rights Reserved.

The Mail Girl



This is one of my older stories that I never got around to posting...

*****

It was another hot sultry day by the lakeshore, and the late afternoon sun was glinting like a million diamonds on the surface of the calm lake. I had been lulled to sleep by the droning sound of powerboats way off in the distance, and the heady scent of a summer lake. I had lived there for a few years, in a small rustic cabin surrounded on three sides by mature yellow birch and hemlock. It was a nice quiet place, with the nearest road two-tenths of a mile away up a long dirt driveway, and no close neighbors. I take advantage of the privacy and sunbath au naturale sometimes, although that day I had left on some skimpy thin silk briefs. I rarely had any unannounced visitors. 

I was laying in my hammock halfway between the cabin and the lake, the hot sun slowly cooking my already bronze flesh, when I was startled to hear a vehicle come down the driveway at a pretty good clip. It was the little white mail truck, and it pulled up to the cabin in a great cloud of dust and squealing brakes. I had been dozing off and must have had a pretty good dream because I had half a hard-on under my tight little briefs. I didn't have any clothing or a towel or anything to hide under, and before I knew it the mailman was headed towards me carrying a small package. My regular mailman, Chip, would have left the box by the door and waved, but this was somebody different. As my brain slowly awakened from its nap, I noticed it was a woman, and before I could think much she was standing next to me.

"Are you Mr. Kenny? John Kenny?" she asked, looking at the name on the box.

"Yeah, that's me," I said. "Where's Chip today?"

"He's on vacation. I've got his route for a couple weeks," she said. As she said it she was sneaking a few good glimpses of my body. "This wouldn't fit in your mailbox, so I thought I'd drive it down rather than leave it on top of the box up there at the road," she said, and she handed me the box.

"Thanks, I appreciate that," I said as I swung my legs over the side of the hammock. It was those kind of moments that made me glad I had spent so much time at the gym the last few years. Two years ago if I had sat like that I would have had a roll of flesh around my middle, and generally looked like a tired middle-aged guy, but thanks to my time at the gym I had a nice flat well muscled stomach, and even with my half-hard cock making itself known I felt confident with the way I looked, even in front of a woman who was a stranger. "I guess I won't get my walk up to the box today. Some days it's all the exercise I get," I said, smiling.

"You don't stay in that kinda shape just walking to the mailbox. I've seen you at the gym a few times," she said with a little smile.

"Oh, you go to Mitch's place?" I said, thinking to myself she did look familiar.

"Yeah, not as much as I should though," she said. "I just signed up a few months ago."

"Be patient. It took me a year or so to get rid of my old beer gut," I said. "Not that I think you...I mean you don't have..." I was blushing a little at my faux pas, and Mail Girl laughed.

"Don't worry, I know what you mean," she said, smiling.

"Yeah, well, you look good I mean," I said, and this time it was Mail Girl who blushed a little. She suddenly looked shy, and I caught her stealing another quick glimpse of my nearly naked crotch.

I was slowly realizing she was really cute, even with the unflattering and loose fitting uniform. She was about my age, mid thirties, and had a killer smile.

"I gotta roll," she said as she turned to go. "It's big trouble if you stay stationary for too long. Big brother is watching."

"Hey!" I yelled as she was hustling back to her little truck. "You're at the end of your route right? Are you almost done for the day? Come on back for a beer and a swim if you want. I promise I'll have clothes on." 

"You swim with your clothes on?" she yelled back with a smile, and she waved and drove away in a cloud of dust. 

It was a long shot, but I thought I'd throw it out there. When I was a kid my dad used to say, "You can't catch a fish if you don't have a hook in the water."

———————

An hour later I was firing up the gas grill on the patio when I heard a car coming. It was a dark purple Mazda Miata. When it came to a stop I could see it was Mail Girl, and she emerged from the little convertible wearing tight jeans, a silky white camisole top with little spaghetti straps, and purple flip-flops on her feet. As promised, I was fully clothed, with long cargo shorts and a rumpled old white linen shirt. I really wasn't expecting her to show up, so it was just my usual attire.

"Hey! Mail Girl! I'm glad you came back! Wow, you clean up nice!" I said as she walked over. She smiled appreciatively. 

She looked completely different out of her uniform. Her long brown hair was down out of the ponytail she had earlier, her legs looked longer in the tight jeans, and she had on just enough eye make-up to say, 'I'm going out tonight'. She was what other women would call slightly pear shaped, which is probably why she thought she needed time at the gym, but she looked plenty sexy to me, with a nice round ass a guy could get a good hold of and nice tits pushing out her loose top.

"Sorry I called you Mail Girl, but I don't even know your name," I said as she came to a stop a few feet from me.

"You can call me Mail Girl if you want, and I'll just call you Mr. Package." She winked and flashed me that killer smile. 

"Oh jeez, how embarrassing. I was sleeping and must have been dreaming right before you showed up," I said, blushing and hiding my down-turned face with my hand. 

After she got done laughing she extended her hand. "My name's Sherry," she said. "Nice to meet you John."

"How do you feel about hamburgers?" I said as I shook her soft hand, trying to break through the awkwardness of the 'Mr. Package' comment. I was glad hot dogs weren't on the menu.

"Love 'em," she said.

"I've got beer, iced tea, wine..."

"Beer's good," she said. "Nothin' tastes better after a hot dusty day on the trail."

I brought out a couple cold ones, and we sat down on two old Adirondack chairs on the patio while the grill heated up.

"Pretty cool place you've got here. Are you vacationing?" she asked.

"No, I live here full time," I said. "It's a bit rustic, but I love it."

"It's so private. Good for layin' around in your skivvies," she said with a smile.

"I was lucky I was wearing that much," I laughed. "On a different day I might have been really embarrassed. You would have seen a streaker running across the lawn."

"Well I'm sorry I missed that! Who knew there was so much excitement in these woods," she laughed.

I got up to go get the food ready. "I don't have too much to go with the burgers. Do you like fresh tomatoes and homemade pickles?"

"Sounds perfect," she said. "Can I help?"

"No, but come on in. I'll give you a quick tour of the old place. Don't get too excited though, it's a bit of a bachelor pad."

"Oh this is nice!" she said as she followed me through the creaky old screen door.

"Yeah, it's a cool old place," I said. "Lots of character. I hate to change much 'cause I love it the way it is, but it really could use some updating and winterizing. When the wind blows across that frozen lake in the winter it can be pretty brutal. I've got two wood stoves though, and if it's not too windy out it's pretty cozy."

"Oh god, it must be beautiful here in the winter," she said. "It'd be fun to get snowed in here with someone warm."

"That would be fun..." I said as our eyes met. "Have a look around. I'll get those burgers made."

She wandered slowly through the living room, taking in the dusty old 'Adirondack style' ambiance. She seemed particularly interested in the artwork — oil paintings, etchings, photographs — and commented on one in particular.

"I love this painting," she said loudly, so I could hear her in my small kitchen, and I stuck my head out to see what she was looking at.

"Oh thanks, that's one of mine," I said. It was a large Cape Cod beach scene, a figurative portrait of a couple standing on a vast open beach, the kind of thing I do for a living.

"You're an artist?" she asked, clearly intrigued.

"Yup," I said. "Not as often as I should be though. I should have been working today instead of laying around in the sun."

I went back to prepping the food, and after a few quiet minutes I heard Sherry's voice again. "Is it all right if I play your old Gibson?" she asked, referring to the old L-00 acoustic guitar siting in a rack next to the couch.

"Sure," I said, poking my head around the corner. "Just go easy on her, she's my baby."

The sound of quiet finger-picking drifted into the kitchen. "Damn girl, that's beautiful playing," I said as I walked into the living room with a plate of raw hamburgers. "Bring that outside, let's throw these on the grill."

Sherry serenaded me while I sipped my beer and cooked in the shade of a huge old hemlock tree. My life was a bit of a bummer at that point, with loosing an old friend to cancer and my marriage breaking up a few years previously. That's when I had moved full time to the lake, determined to try something different. Female companionship had been pretty sparse since I had moved, so what was unfolding with Sherry felt really nice.

"Nice tune," I said as she finished up a pretty piece. "Did you write that?"

"Yeah, that's one I do with a friend of mine at the open mic night. She plays mandolin and sings. I don't sing much, just some harmony stuff once in a while."

We sat at a small round table in the shade and ate thick burgers with goat cheese and chives, big slices of ripe tomato with Balsamic vinegar and basil leaves, and my best homemade pickles. I broke out a bottle of Chianti, and the conversation and laughter flowed effortlessly. Every time Sherry took a bite of her juicy burger she leaned over her plate and I got a nice view of the lacy bra under her loose shirt. Ah, life's little pleasures...

When we finished eating I picked up the guitar and launched into a boisterous version of one of my usual country blues songs, Mississippi John Hurt's 'Candy Man,' about a guy who sells his nine inch candy stick to the ladies. Those old blues guys sure could write 'em. Sherry was grooving side-to-side in her chair, and slapping her hand on her knee to the beat, and I finished with my best big instrumental flourish at the end.

"Yeah! That was awesome!" she said with a huge smile. "I love those old blues! I wish I could play that style, it's got such an infectious groove."

"I'd love to teach you," I said. "It's a lot of fun once you get the hang of it."

"I'm gonna take you up on that. I haven't had a good lesson for a long time," she said, with a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. I felt blood rushing to my crotch, and I took a big gulp of Chianti.

"I brought my suit," she said. "What do you say we take that swim you promised me."

"Yeah, sounds good. It's gonna be a warm evening, perfect for a dip, and the lake warmed up nice this year," I said. "You can change down the hallway—bedroom, bathroom, take your pick. I'll take care of these dishes."

I quickly rinsed things off in the sink, and my mind raced wondering what Sherry was going to look like in a bathing suit.

"All ready," she said, leaning against the frame of the kitchen door in a little white bikini.

"Wow!...you look...wow..." I said, my voice trailing off as I took in the sight of her, trying not to be too much of a lecherous ogler.

"Every girl's favorite words," she smiled, a little shyly, and her nipples hardened before my eyes, threatening to burst through the thin material. My cock really started to thicken up as I imagined nibbling on them. 'Down boy, down!' I said to myself.

"Okay!" I said after an awkward pause, afraid my flustered nervousness was blatantly obvious. "Let me change real quick and I'll meet you down at the boathouse."

She was quickly out the door, embarrassed a little by her nipple eruption I think. I lingered in the kitchen long enough to watch her walk down the path to the boathouse, her ass jiggling in a fantastic way under the thin fabric of her bikini.

I changed into a swimsuit, grabbed two towels, and put four bottles of beer and some water in a small cooler. Sherry was up on the little roof deck above the boathouse scanning the lake when I arrived.

"The shore's pretty rocky here, it's not great for swimming. I usually take the boat out and swim off the platform on the back. Is that okay with you?"

"Sounds great," she said, and we went down the rickety stairs and into the ancient boathouse.

"Oh my God!" she said when she saw the boat in the darkness.

I opened up the big old counterbalanced door and the early evening sunlight streamed in off the lake. My pride and joy was sitting quietly, it's golden mahogany hull flashing brilliantly as the low angle of the sun illuminated it like a calendar photo.

"What the fuck!" she said quietly. "I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life!"

"It's a Hacker-Craft. My paintings have been selling really well the last few years, so I decided to splurge. My ex says it's my mid-life crisis," I laughed.

"That's what my friend says about my Miata. Who cares what they think. Life's supposed to be fun, right?" she said, running her hand over the smooth shiny wood deck.

I threw the cooler and towels in and I released the catch on the hoist and let the big hoist wheel spin through my hand, lowering the boat to the water. I held Sherry's arm as she stepped onboard, and her bikini clad body melted onto one of the sideways facing settees. She put one of her long legs up on it and said, "Damn! A girl could get used to this!" 

The sight of her reclining languidly in her bikini was causing great quantities of blood to rush to my cock, so to get my mind off of her I went about getting the boat ready. Soon the engines were quietly rumbling and we were backing out into the fading sunlight.

"We've got about two hours of daylight left. You want to run down to the village and then we'll swim a little later?" I asked.

"I'm up for anything," she said with a smile. She joined me in the front seats, and we roared off down the smooth lake.

We stopped at a marina a few miles away and I filled the thirsty beast with gas. Two big V8 engines really sucked it down, but it was worth it for the enjoyment it gave me. The young high school kid working the fuel dock was quite taken with Sherry's little white bikini, and her hard nipples betrayed her excitement again.

"I think the boy likes you," I said after he walked away.

"I'm not used to wearing a bikini in public," she said. "It was a present to myself for sticking with the gym routine for three months. I'm still trying to get used to it."

"Trust me Sherry, you wear it well," I said, looking her over with an appreciative smile.

"I've got a ways to go, but thanks," she said, looking sideways at me with a shy smile.

"We should do it together. It's more fun to burn calories with a partner," I said. "The gym I mean," I added quickly, realizing my unintended double entendre, and I blushed again. I think I was blushing more often with this girl than I ever had in my life. Sherry said nothing, and just sat looking forward with her mouth curled up into a delicious grin.

We motored off down the lake again, cruising at full throttle for a while, the big 33 foot runabout rocketing along the smooth water at fifty miles-per-hour. We soon arrived at the village docks, which were buzzing with activity on a mid-summer Saturday evening. There was a bluegrass band playing in the gazebo and a lot of people milling around. We were moving through the water slowly, the big engines burbling in their deep bass voice.

"We can tie up and look around the docks, or head back out and go swimming. It's up to you," I said, knowing she was a little uncomfortable in her bikini.

"Let's stop," she said. "You've given me confidence."

"I think it was that teenage boy. I'll have to go thank him," I said with a smile.

"Yeah, well, that didn't hurt either," she smiled.

We tied up and walked around the docks admiring all the interesting water craft, and ate chocolate ice cream cones from a street vender. The sun had just gone down, and the sky was a lovely pink color, with purplish wispy clouds and a bright yellow horizon. We listened to the bluegrass band while we ate our ice cream, and it was about as perfect an evening as I could imagine.

A dapper elderly gentleman was admiring our boat when we got back to it. "She's a beauty," he said as we stepped onboard. I wasn't quite sure if he was talking about the boat, or Sherry in her bikini.

"She's a lot of fun," I said, figuring I'd give him an answer that worked both ways.

"Enjoy her," he said, winking at me as he cast off our lines, and our quietly rumbling engines pushed us slowly toward open water.

I got the big boat up on a plane, and backed it of to about fifteen miles-per-hour. We cruised not far of shore, admiring the 'big money' real estate near the village. There were lots of parties going on, and some good barbecue smells drifting on the evening air. One of the big estates was having a fancy wedding, with a huge tent decorated with twinkle lights and a band playing classic rock from the eighties. There was a lot of drinking going on, and as we passed by all the bridesmaids and groomsmen jumped off the dock into the water fully clothed. Sherry got a kick out of that.

I let Sherry take the wheel, and she took to it like an old pro. The daylight had faded into twilight, so I explained how the navigation lights worked, the red and the green and which side to pass on and all that, and she throttled up the engines and we flew towards the center of the big lake. She had a huge smile on her face, her long brown hair blowing in the wind. 

I directed her toward a quiet uninhabited cove, and I was happy to see no one else was anchored there. We came to a stop and I threw the anchor over the side and tied it off. There was a wonderful silence when I switched off the big engines, and we moved back into the center cockpit, which is just a big seating area. It's bigger and more comfortable than most boats of this type, with two long settees facing each other. You have to climb up on the engine cover to get to the swim platform, but there's a nice ladder built-in to the transom to make it easier. 

I switched on the stereo, pulled up some John Prine on the iPod I keep onboard, and cracked open two cold bottles of beer.

"Oh man, this thing's like pure luxury isn't it," she said.

"It is when you're onboard," I said.

"Jesus, you're a sweet talker, I'm gonna have to watch out for you," she said, and her smile grew into that huge man-killer I'd seen a few times already. Imagine Julia Roberts' smile and you're not too far off.

She laid back on the settee and stretched out her long legs. "This is comfortable enough to sleep on."

"Actually this whole area turns into like a king sized bed," I said. "Well, more of a place to sunbath really. I've never tried it, but it's pretty cool."

"A sunken bed! Holy shit, it's like an Austin Powers boat or something!" she said with a big smile.

"You make me horny baby!" I said with my best Austin Powers imitation, and Sherry laughed so hysterically beer came out of her nose. Her tits jiggled deliciously when she laughed hard.

"Oh my god that's so funny!" she said, still trying to get a hold of her uncontrollable laughter.

"Not exactly the response I was hoping for," I laughed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, finally able to hold her laughter inside. "You make me horny too baby," and she kissed me with her smiling, beer soaked face.




The Mail Girl



There had been sexual tension between us since she first showed up in my yard in her postal uniform, and it all cut loose with that first kiss. Our hands were all over each other, and our tongues were furiously trying to snake down each others throats. 

"Shall we go all Austin Powers?" I said, after breaking away breathlessly from an incredible kiss. I reached for the back cushion of one of the settees, and Sherry grabbed the other, and we dropped them in place between the two flat sections. Our bathing suits lasted about two seconds, and suddenly we were lying naked together on a big comfortable bed under the emerging stars.

I'll never forget what it felt like when Sherry wrapped her slender fingers around my hard cock for the first time. I've been with quite a few women over the years, but the electricity I felt from that simple touch was unlike anything I've ever experienced. I trembled and goosebumps swept over me, and the look of love in Sherry's eyes when she saw my reaction...well, I can honestly say that's the exact moment I knew I was going to marry her. I wanted desperately to tell her I loved her right then and there, but I didn't want to scare her away.

We made the sweetest love that night, under a sky so full of stars it couldn't possibly have held another. The way sound carries over the water — the cry of joy as I came for the first time in Sherry's warm mouth, her cries of pleasure when a powerful orgasm ripped through her as I pumped into her from behind — I'm sure we could be heard for miles around. I was amazed that no other boats came anywhere near us — we had the night to ourselves, like fate had somehow ordained it, and we swam and made love all night long. It was glorious.

The Eastern sky was starting to lighten a little when we finally started the engines and rumbled slowly out of the quiet cove. There wasn't a sole on the lake at that early dawn hour, and we didn't even bother putting our swimsuits back on. We were soon at wide-open-throttle, skimming across the glassy lake. It was all too perfect to go home so we just cruised around for a while, and as the sun peaked above the horizon Sherry had my throbbing cock in her mouth again. My roar as I came was almost as loud as the engines.

About the time the rest of the world was waking we pulled the big boat into the boathouse and hoisted her clear of the water. Sherry and I walked arm-in-arm up the pathway to the old cabin, and we collapsed in my soft bed and fell asleep in each other's arms.

*****

Sherry and I were married the next year, on the weekend of the first anniversary of our meeting. It was another perfect summer day. She had been living with me in the old cabin since a week after we first met, and we had a small wedding ceremony on the lawn. We had a bluegrass band play, and we all ate hamburgers and tomatoes and pickles and drank lots of Chianti. I had clued my best man in on what Sherry and I had seen the summer before, and when a group of us were down on the dock having a photo taken, he and Sherry's maid of honor jumped into the lake, fully clothed. Sherry couldn't believe how wonderful it was, and she laughed and cried in equal measure. The photographer captured it all.

Later that night, after everyone had left, we took the boat over to our little cove. We had the place to ourselves again, and made up the 'Austin Powers' bed. We were still wearing the clothes we were married in, and we slowly stripped each other.

"You make me horny baby," I said lovingly.

"You make me horny too baby," Sherry said quietly, and her beautiful eyes twinkled in the moonlight.



The Mail Lady's Daughter



I had been fucking my mail lady Joyce for awhile now. She decided she wanted to leave her husband and move in with me. She told me her daughter Sue was part of the deal, and I had no objections.

Sue was 20 at the time, and attending college nearby. We didn't see too much of her until summer break began. Sue had her mothers features, but she had jet black hair that ran down to the middle of her back. She also had much bigger tits than her mother did. And boy did she like to display them!

Sue wore skimpy outfits around the house. Mainly tight t-shirts and very short shorts. My cock was always hard when she was walking by.

It was Saturday and Joyce had to work at the post office. It was just Sue and I lounging around the house that day. I had some chores to do around the house and I wasn't paying very close attention to where Sue was or what she was doing.

I finished my work and was heading to the bathroom to get showered. Sue was just opening the door to the bathroom. She had a towel wrapped around her body. We nearly collided with each other. Sue tried to catch it, but the towel dropped to the floor as we ran into each other. She quickly grabbed it up and ran to her bedroom, but I caught a glance.

Sue was neatly trimmed around her pussy. Her tits were huge, but very firm. The nipples covered a large area of her tits.

I think we were both embarassed and even a bit aroused by what happened at the bathroom door. I proceeded to get my shower and then went to my bedroom to get dressed. When I opened the door to the bedroom I was in for a shock. Sue was lying there, the towel was underneath her and her legs were spread wide.

The sight of that young woman was making my cock twitch!

"What do you think Dan?", she called out to me.

She was gorgeous, there on the bed. She had been touching herself and her nipples were erect, and her pussy was leaking. I dropped my towel, exposing my cock to her.

"God, mom was right!" "You are huge!"

I guess mother and daughter had been discussing my eight inch pecker. Joyce, her mother, couldn't seem to get enough of me so she decided to move in and have my cock all to herself.

I was standing there stroking myself. Basically putting on a bit of a show for the daughter. She never took her eyes off my cock. I walked closer to the bed and climbed up over top of Sue. My mouth started to work on those luscious nipples. I sucked them, played with them, and bit them with my teeth.

Sue was moaning and wiggling her body beneath me. She had her legs up off the bed, urging me to do more. I felt her reach for my shaft, slowly guiding the head to her slit. My mushroom head was in place so I slowly pushed. Parting those sweet pussy lips in the bargain.

"Dan, I never had a cock this big, go easy please."

I was pushing slowly at first, letting her become accustomed to my girth and length. I kept sinking deeper. Stirring her honey pot. She place her legs around me, pulling me into her. Finally our pubic bones hit. 

Sue let out a moan and I started to fuck her faster. She met me stroke for stroke. She was tight and was gripping my shaft like no woman had ever done before. I worked my cock all around. Hitting her pussy walls, touching every spot inside her. 

We must have been getting carried away, because I then heard a voice from behind me.

"What the hell are you two doing?"

It was Joyce, back from her postal work.

I never pulled out and I kept thrusting into Sue. Sue never stopped either, we were to far gone to quit now.

"Joyce, you said you both were a package deal," I said. "Well, I am taking advantage of that deal," I told her.

The truth was, I knew this would happen one day, Joyce would discover me fucking her daughter, and now was the moment I knew would come.

To my surprise, Joyce started removing her clothes. She got naked and sat down in one of our chairs and began to watch us both.

I have a move I like to make when I have my cock buried in a woman. I flex my cock muscles. I just hold my cock in place and expand my cock. For most women, it sends them over the edge. Sue was no expception.

Her pussy went into a spasm. Her body was shaking violently, and she was breathing heavily.

I looked over and Joyce was fingering herself. She was so wet, her legs were pulled up onto the seat, and a finger was pushed into her hot pussy.

I told Sue, "Cum for me baby." "Let your mom see what I do to you."

"Mom, I am going to cum," Sue cried out. 

Joyce was too far gone to do anything but work on her pussy. I was ramming Sue with everything I had by now. I wanted us to cum together. I thrusted twice more, long cock strokes, and the damn broke.

Sue arched her back and I blew a load of my loving into her. She was milking my shaft and cumming herself. It went on like that for some minutes. I had so much cum in me, it seemed I couldn't stop. Sue just pulled me tighter and held on for the ride.

What a ride it was! We eventually collapsed in each others arms. Joyce had also cum too. She moved over to the bed and joined us there.

"That was so hot!" Joyce told us.

Sue couldn't have agreed more. She told her mother and me that she wanted to be part of our lovemaking from now on. 

"I don't want any other man but Dan," she told us both. 

She wasn't going to get any argument from me, and her mother didn't say no either. It was going to be an interested finish to the summer, it seemed! 



The Mail Order Bride



(Author's note. This story, set in the 1890s, is obviously fiction. Waverly, KS exists and was my parent's home town. The character, John Senior, who makes a cameo appearance early in the story was a real person, was the mayor of Waverly and has a street named for him there. He is my maternal grandfather.)

I had a good job. I was the editor and part owner of a weekly newspaper in Waverly, Kansas. It was a town of about 1000 souls, settled after the Civil War by a group of pioneers from Ohio. In fact the main event of the year was a large gathering in a clearing on the edge of town and it was called Old Ohio Days. I had a good house, a modest three bedroom bungalow within walking distance of my job. I had two good children who had long-since grown up and moved away. I had four grandchildren who I rarely saw but who entertained me with occasional letters and pictures which they had drawn in school. I had all the good things a man could desire save one. I did not have a good woman.

I had had a good woman, my wife of many years, but she had passed away after a long and fearsome fight with cancer. I was still in good health, good being a relative expression for a man who had recently seen fifty. I was still considered marriage material but unfortunately in those days, the tail end of the 19th century, and in that place the pickings were slim.

Perhaps I was too picky. There were several widows of my age in our small community. I rarely lacked for dinner invitations, some of which I accepted, some I declined. The women came in various sizes with various backgrounds but none of them lit my fire. Perhaps I was looking for too much wit, too much intelligence, too much articulateness. 

My late wife and I had shared many intellectual conversations. We were both avid readers of the Saturday Evening Post and Harpers Weekly and eagerly awaited the arrival by mail each week of the Sunday New York Times and enjoyed solving the crossword puzzle together. For daily news of a more local nature we read the Emporia Gazette which was edited by William Allen White. He was one of my idols having gained national publicity in 1896 for an editorial he had written entitled 'What's the Matter with Kansas". 

We also enjoyed a robust sex life, while she was healthy and I missed that greatly but I mostly missed the wit and the conversation. I had learned that the hours one spends making love are dwarfed by the hours one spends just living together.

I shared my loneliness with my daughter who was living in Illinois. She suggested that I explore the possibility of a mail-order bride. At first I resisted but she persisted and even sent me a page of advertisements from the Chicago Tribune. I sat it aside and forgot about it until I came across it several weeks later under a pile of things on my desk.

What the hell, I thought, let's see what's out there. Turns out there were a goodly number of women out there who were looking for a husband and willing to travel.

There were no pictures of these women and most of the ads were poorly written but one in particular caught my eye.

College-educated woman seeks articulate man. I am in my late 40's and have never been married. I have been a school teacher and care-giver to my father who recently passed away. I am in good health and I am willing to devote all my energies to building a lasting relationship with a husband. I seek a man of good character, preferably with a college degree who enjoys reading, writing and intelligent conversation. Please respond to Box 182 c/o The Chicago Tribune.

Being a firm believer in the old adage of 'nothing ventured, nothing gained' I decided to reply. I wrote: I am a widower in my early 50s and the editor of a weekly newspaper in the small town of Waverly, Kansas. I have two grown children and four grandchildren all of whom, unfortunately, live a good distance away from me. I own a modest home and I am not wealthy. I have a bachelor's degree in Journalism from the University of Kansas and attend the Presbyterian Church on a fairly regular basis. Truth be told I am probably what is referred to as a "free thinker" and enjoy reading the thoughts of the notorious Robert Ingersoll. Politically I am also considered a liberal by those who know me. I place high value in a woman's intellect and would consider my wife my equal. I do not require a cook or a housekeeper. I have acquired those skills over the years, particularly since my dear wife of many years passed away. That said I would gladly share those duties with a wife. Should you wish to continue your career in teaching I would be supportive and you should have no trouble finding employment here on the prairie if you wish to work. I am in good health, for a man of my age. I have blue eyes and a full head of silver-gray hair. I wear spectacles. I have never been arrested although some of my more conservative readers have threatened to lynch me after some of my progressive editorials. (I say that in jest.) If you are interested in continuing this dialogue I welcome your reply. You may reach me at my business address: Jerome Bender, Editor, The Waverly Gazette, Waverly, Kansas.

I mailed the letter and went on with my life. Several weeks passed without a response which was not disheartening given the slowness of the U. S. Postal Service. Still I watched the mail eagerly every day. Then, on a bright, crisp October morning while going through the mail - bills, some checks for subscriptions, letters to the editor, etc, I came upon a handwritten letter which was obviously the work of a feminine hand. It was postmarked Springfield, Illinois and I opened it eagerly.

It said: Dear Mr. Bender, Thank you for your most informative missive. You express yourself very well and I appreciate the value you apparently place upon those of us of the fairer sex. I would enjoy further correspondence with you if you choose to continue. Yours sincerely, Rebecca Thurston.

I smiled, carefully put the letter in my desk and sat down to write a response. Our letters back and forth continued for several months and brightened what otherwise proved to be a typical, cold and windy winter on the plains. She indeed proved to witty and literate and thankfully she shared many of my liberal views on politics and religion. 

We exchanged photographs. Hers showed a 40ish woman standing next to a seated older man - probably her father. She had a small face with a nose perhaps a bit bigger than the norm but I liked her looks. I have heard that type of face described as rat-faced, an apt if not enticing description. She had dark hair streaked with gray, done up in a bun on the back of her head. She appeared to be rather petite and not overly endowed but femininely shapely. Her long dress gave no hint of what her legs looked like. She was certainly not a Gibson girl but I found her attractive and hoped that the photograph was fairly current. 

In March I sent her a modest diamond ring and asked her to come to Kansas and become my wife. I hastened to add that, since we were still relative strangers I would not expect her to immediately become a conjugal partner. 

She replied promptly and my heart leapt as I read: Dearest Jerome. I would be pleased and honored to become Mrs. Bender. I adore the ring and am wearing it proudly. I must say that I am the envy of my lady friends. Several of them have asked if you have a brother or a friend who might be interested in correspondence. My darling - if I may call you that - I appreciate your thoughts about conjugal relationships. I have never been with a man but I am a good student and an eager learner. Write me as soon as you can so we can work out the details and arrange for my travel to the wild, wild west. With all the love a woman can muster I remain, 

Yours Forever, Rebecca (the future Mrs. Bender) Thurston.

Thus on a bright April afternoon I stood at the Santa Fe depot with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. The train chugged up to the station and stopped and one lone passenger got off. It was Rebecca, carrying a small valise and followed by a porter with two large suitcases. I hurried to them and tipped the porter after he had put the suitcases on the boardwalk next to the train. 

I turned to Rebecca and shook her hand.

"Miss Thurston, I presume?"

She laughed. "And who would you be, Sir?"

"I believe you know my name. Suffice to say that I'm a bedazzled, befuddled, bewitched believer that dreams do, indeed, come true."

She smiled and said, "My, my. What a greeting. What a welcome to Kansas."

We walked to my carriage, loaded her luggage and drove off. I gave her a tour of the town which didn't take long. I showed her our school, our new library, the newspaper office and then took her to my house.

"Here is my, uh, our home. It's not much but it's paid for," I said.

"It looks fine," she said.

We went inside and she looked around. After my wife had passed away I had removed most of the feminine additions, mainly because they reminded me of her and possibly because I hoped another woman would want to add things of her own. 

"As you can see we definitely need a woman's touch," i said.

"We?"

I laughed. "We...the house and the owner."

She laughed and reaching up tenderly touched my on my cheek. I put my hands on her shoulders and slowly brought my lips closer to hers, stopping just inches away. She pressed her lips against mine and we kissed for the first time. Our lips connected lightly at first and then I moved my hands from her shoulders and wrapping them around her trim frame I kissed her more passionately and even darted my tongue into her mouth. She responded in kind. There was definitely some chemistry and hunger between us. I moved my mouth away from hers and said, "In my all-time ranking of first kisses that has to be number one."

She laughed, squeezed me tightly and said, "I told you I was a good student and an eager learner."

"Rebecca, you are exactly as advertised. In fact you are even better than I had hoped for. We need to see about a marriage license and a preacher."

She smiled and said, "I don't mind waiting for that for a few days. I know that I want to marry you but I don't want you to feel that we have to get married immediately."

She paused and then said, "You still don't know how well you will enjoy, uh, intimacy with me."

"Alright." I said, "I appreciate that and thank you for the option. As I have written to you I value you more for your mind than for your body although your body is most pleasing to the eye. If you want to wait for a while that's alright with me. However, while we decide we'd best get you a room at the hotel - at least for the sake of appearances."

She agreed and we rode back to the center of town. We checked her into the only hotel in Waverly and carried her luggage up to the room. I watched as she put her things in the closet and chest of drawers. She was efficient and orderly and a pleasure to observe.

"I hope your stay here in the hotel will be a short one," I said.

"I agree," she said.

"It's about dinner time," I said, "Are you hungry?"

"In more ways than one," she said with a chuckle.

"I'm afraid our choice of restaurants is somewhat limited but the hotel dining room downstairs isn't too bad. Unfortunately we can't get any alcohol. Carrie Nation's influence is still very strong here in Kansas."

"I can remedy that," she said and, reaching into her valise, she brought out a small bottle of brandy.

"You think of everything," i said.

"I try."

We rinsed out a couple of glasses and I poured a small amount of brandy into each one.

""Here's to a long and happy relationship," I said.

"Here, here," she replied.

We toasted and drank and walked downstairs. The restaurant was busy but we didn't have to wait too long for a table. I noticed the patrons noticing us including some of the Waverly widow women who regarded this strange woman with some degree of interest and animosity. Perhaps that last part is just my male ego talking.

We even had a short conversation with the mayor, John Senior, who was a lawyer and the President of one of the two banks in our little town. 

I introduced Rebecca to him, saying, "John I would like you to meet my fiance Miss Rebecca Thurston from Springfield, Illinois."

"Miss Thurston I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I wondered who that attractive woman sitting with our Editor was and couldn't help but notice the glares from some of the ladies in the room."

Rebecca laughed, we chatted for a few more minutes and Mr. Senior departed, saying, "Miss Thurston, welcome to Waverly and I hope your stay is a long and happy one."

The waiter brought our menus.

"What would you suggest?" she asked.

"Do you like steak?"

"If it's well prepared."

"Than I would recommend the Kansas City Strip sirloin. Back east they call it New York Strip but here we call it Kansas City."

"Sounds good to me."

We ate and talked and some more people stopped by to meet this mystery woman. I had not told any of the locals about our postal relationship. I introduced her as my fiance, Rebecca Thurston from Springfield, Illinois. The word fiance drew some raised eyebrows and glances at the diamond ring she wore. She seemed very comfortable with what to her were strangers and I smiled proudly. After dinner I said, "Would you like to stroll along Main Street and see a little more of your new home?"

"Lead the way," she said.

We paid our bill and, hand in hand, strolled through the modest village. The sidewalks were paved with brick and I explained that Kansas boasted a number of small brick plants primarily in the southeastern part of the state. Waverly was in the northeastern part of Kansas about 100 miles from Kansas City. We walked and talked and then I said, "You're probably tired after your long trip. Let me escort you back to your room."

She nodded with a shy smile and we went back to the hotel. At the door she said, "Please come in."

I nodded and bowed graciously and said, "Lead the way."

She closed and locked the door and said, "It would not be seemly for you to spend the night but I would like to lie with you for a while, if that's alright with you."

"I was hoping you would ask."

She gazed at me lovingly and said, "Before I lie down with you I would like to take a bath, how about you?"

"A capital idea," I said.

"Perhaps some time we can bathe together but, for now, you go first."

I went into the bathroom and removed my clothes and drawing a lukewarm bath I cleaned up the best I could. I put my underwear back on and walked back into the bedroom. 

"I didn't bring a robe," I said.

She laughed and said, "You look fine." 

She had drawn the bedspread and top sheet back from the bed and, motioning toward it, she said, "Make yourself comfortable and I will join you forthwith."

She walked into the bathroom and I got into bed, covering myself with the sheet. Soon I could hear her running a bath, humming contentedly to herself - a positive sign. After a bit she returned, wearing a white night gown with a lacy trim at the hem and some flowers embroidered around the neckline. The night gown ended at about her knees and from what I could see of her legs she looked fine. She had unpinned her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. She turned out the light and slipped into bed beside me. 

We laid together quietly for a few minutes and then she turned toward me and said, "I'm ready for my first lesson."

"I thought you were the teacher," i said.

"This is not my usual classroom. You're the one with experience and there's much truth to the old adage that experience is the best teacher."

I laughed and drew her body close to mine. We kissed deeply and this time our tongues probed and danced in each other's mouths. She tasted like peppermint, she smelled like lilacs and she felt divine. I left the bed momentarily and walked to the window. I pulled back the curtains to let the moonlight come into the room providing just enough light so we could see each other.

"Let's get undressed," I said and began to remove my underwear. 

She looked at me expectantly and then sat up and slowly pulled her nightgown over her head and dropped it to the floor. In the moonlight I admired her. Her breasts were not overly large but very nicely formed with small hard nipples. Moving my gaze down her body I saw a nice thrush of dark pubic hair which contrasted nicely with her pale skin.

"Do you like me?", she asked.

"I adore you."

She dropped her gaze to my hard cock and said, "Is that for me?"

"For whenever and where ever you want it to be."

I laid back down beside her and kissed her again and said, "May I touch your breasts?"

She nodded and I gently touched them. Keeping my touch as light as possible I cupped them in my hands and then coned my fingers and began to caress her nipples.

"That feels very, very good," she said, "How do they feel to you?"

"Very good hardly describes them. May I kiss them?"

"Do you want to?"

In reply I moved my mouth to one and than the other, licking and nibbling and savoring the taste of her. 

She sighed and said, "You're making me wet down, down there."

"Show me," I said.

She took my hand and placed it gently between her legs. I played with her pubic hair and then moved my middle finger lower and began a gentle up and down motion on her labia, gradually inserting my finger. She was, indeed, very moist. Moving my finger up a bit I found her clitoris and with tender touched coaxed it out of its nest.

"Are you okay with this?" I asked.

She responded by putting her hand on mine and pressing it firmly. 

"I'm going to move my finger inside now and let me know if it hurts."

I carefully inserted my finger into her tunnel and encountered her hymen. I probed it and she winced a little bit. She was, as advertised, a virgin.

"I'm going to try to open you up a bit more," I said, "you may feel a little pain but it should quickly go away."

I added a second finger to the penetration squad and probed again. She responded by putting her hand on mine and forcefully pushing my fingers inside of her. She winced and cried out momentarily and I could feel a modest amount of blood flowing on my hand. I stopped my manipulations and allowed her to compose herself.

"I'm glad that's over," she said.

"I hope it wasn't too painful for you."

"Just part of the learning process, I suppose," she replied. She paused for a moment longer and than said, "Go on."

I kissed her sweetly and began to probe with both fingers while I rotated my thumb on her clitoris. She pulled my face closer to her and kissed me passionately, ramming her tongue into my mouth in rhythm with my stroking hand. I pulled my mouth away from hers and said, "I love you Rebecca. I love you and I want to please you."

"Oh, you are," she said, "you are, you are, you are, YOU ARE!", and with a a gasp and a heave she climaxed. I smiled contentedly and slowed my pace, petting and patting her pussy.

She caught her breath and said, "What a glorious climax. I must confess that I have had some in my life with my own fingers but nothing to compare with this and I've never had fingers inside me before tonight. Thank you for a glorious initiation."

"Always glad to be of service, my dear," I said with a chuckle. I put my arm around her and held her close and she sighed with contentment.

"Speaking of service," she said, "I believe it's my turn. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to be comfortable with me."

"I'm already there, thank you very much," she said, "Teach me how to give you pleasure."

I smiled and said, "Whereas women have many erogenous zones, most of a man's are centered in one particular place."

She laughed and, reaching down, put her hand on my penis.




The Mail Order Bride



"Let me guess," she said with a chuckle.

"Bingo," I replied, "You are such a quick study."

"Let me examine this more closely," she said, "I've seen pictures of a penis but this is the first time I have ever touched one."

"Nothing beats hands-on experience," I said, "If you'll pardon the pun."

"Penis sounds so clinical, doesn't it," she said, "I've heard there are other terms."

"Like what?"

She paused and said, "Cock, for instance."

"Cock is good," I said, "It connotes a bit of the rooster which all men harbor. It's sometimes also called a prick."

"Well it certainly doesn't feel prickly."

"You're right," I said, "And for the life of me I don't know where that term originated."

"Perhaps we can do some research."

"Perhaps. we can."

"It's so stiff and hard," she said.

"All the better for cocking and pricking," I said laughingly.

"It's stiff and hard and yet your skin is so soft and tender."

"Tender is good," I said "Any my testacles are even more tender."

"Oh yes, testacles," she replied, "Where the sperm is manufactured."

"Yes," I said, "And right about now a whole bunch of them are clamoring to get out and go about their business of making babies. They are single-minded little fellows."

"I'd like to make a baby," she said.

"If that's what you want perhaps it will happen but we'll save that for a future lesson," I said.

She stroked my balls and said, "I can almost feel those little fellows clamoring to get out."

"Then turn them loose," I replied.

She giggled and said, "I've done some reading in some hard-to-find books and I think I know how to do that."

"Show me."

She moved her hand to the tip of my cock and captured the pre-come which was oozing out.

"Your cock comes with it's own dispenser of lubricant," she said.

"So does your vagina," I said, "Mother Nature plays no favorites"

"That's debatable," she said, "But vagina is also such a clinical word."

"What other words do you know?"

"I've heard it referred to as a quim or a cunt," she said, "And I don't know where those words came from either."

"I can't say about quim but I believe that cunt has a connection to cunnilingus."

"Are we going to do that? Have you ever done that?"

"Yes I have and yes we will but only if you want to," I said, "But that's also for a future lesson."

"How exciting," she said with a chuckle. She stroked my penis with one hand and fondled my testacles with another. "This feels good in my hand," she said, "I wonder how it will feel inside me."

"Another future lesson," I replied.

"Oh, shoot," she said, with a laugh.

"One step at a time my darling."

"How am I doing so far?"

"You are doing a wonderful job of doing me."

"I'm so glad and this is so exciting."

"Put your hand in your mouth for a minute and make it wetter."

She did, moistening her hand nicely and said, "I can taste and smell you on my hand."

"How is it?"

"It's not at all unpleasant and it has a sort of musky smell."

"Musky is an apt description," I said, "Now stroke me harder and pay attention to this spot." I put my hand on hers and showed her the place on the underside of my penis just under the crown. She continued stroking my cock, paying particular attention to that special spot.

"Rebecca," I said, "I'm about to climax."

"I want you to, I want to see your seed."

"Well, here it is, " I said and with that I ejaculated heartily.

"Oh my, oh my," she said, "That was beautiful. I never imagine there would be so much of it."

I laughed and said, "I've been storing that and saving it for quite some time."

"Then the amount fluctuates?"

"Yes, according to how often it happens."

She paused and then said, "Can we do it again."

I laughed. "Not tonight my darling. This old man is only good for that about once a day."

"Well," she said, "I suppose once a day is enough."

We laid close together and a drowsed off to sleep. I awoke a few hours later and saw her sitting at the desk across the room, writing something.

"What are you writing about?"

She smiled and said, "About you and us and our first night together."

"Sweet thoughts, I hope?"

"The sweetest, my sweet."

"I had best get dressed and go to my house. It wouldn't be seemly for me to be seen leaving your room in the morning. But I'll come and fetch you for breakfast."

I got dressed and slipped quietly out of the hotel. I walked to my house and slept soundly the rest of the night. Next morning I took Rebecca to breakfast and than to my office. While I worked she read my scrapbook of old editorials and stories I had judged worth saving. 

That evening after dinner at the hotel dining room we retired to her room. We got undressed and this time we got into bed without any night clothes. We kissed and caressed for a while and then she said, "I'm ready for my next lesson, teacher."

I smiled and said, "Our next course will be intercourse."

"Aren't you the clever one," she said.

"First of all," I said, "Let's prepare each other." 

I began to touch and caress her nether lips and she stroked my cock, lovingly. Soon she was wet and ready and so was I.

I moved between her legs and said, "There are several ways we can do this. I think we'll start with the old tried and true - the missionary position."

I moved closer to her and began to caress her pussy with my cock, paying particular attention to her clitoris.

"You may or may not climax from intercourse but if you don't I"ll find other ways to satisfy you," I said.

"You are so very thoughtful. You are a dear, sweet man," she replied.

"Is there any soreness in your special place?" I asked.

"If there was it's all gone now thanks to what you're doing."

"Do you feel a longing to feel me inside you?"

"Oh yes."

"Then take hold of my penis and put it right at the entrance and I'll take care of the rest."

She reached down and guided my cock to precisely where it wanted and needed to be.

"I'm going to enter you now. If you feel any pain or discomfort just say the word and I'll stop."

"Go ahead," she said, "Make me a woman."

I kissed her sweetly and slowly began to glide my penis inside her. She spread her legs wider to give me more access. Her pussy was incredibly wet and incredibly tight and felt incredibly good.

"How does that feel?" I asked.

"It feels, it feels good. It feels fulfilling. It feels uh, natural."

I started to move in and out of her, gently at first but then as my passion increased so did my speed.

She moved her hips as best she could up to match my thrusts.

"I'm fucking! I'm fucking! I'm truly, and actually fucking." she cried, trying to keep her voice as low as possible.

"I am too, my sweet. I am fucking a woman that I deeply love and admire."

I picked up the pace and said, "Wrap your legs around me and hold on."

She did. The sounds and smells of some serious coupling began to fill the room. I was amazed and delighted that I was able to keep from coming. Perhaps last night's hand-job had paid dividends. But inevitably I could feel those rascally little sperm about to exit.

"I'm almost there, Rebecca, almost there."

"I am too, I am too!"

I came first but was able to sustain my momentum long enough for her to come also. She dug her fingernails into my back and let the moment take her. We stopped and fell away from her.

"I could feel your sperm when you erupted," she said. "It was an indescribable feeling and then I felt even better when I erupted too. Was it as pleasurable for you as it was for me?"

"My darling," I said, "It was incredible. We came together and not every couple, even those who have been making love for years, can say that."

"My, that is something," she said. "I wonder if we've made a baby?"

"Well those little spermatazoa are even now swimming toward their destination. We'll know soon enough but in any case we need to get married."

I got out of bed and bowing down I said, "Rebecca, will you marry me."

"Oh yes I will," she said, And then she laughed and said, "I've dreamed for years about a man proposing to me but I never imagined he would be naked."

I went back to my house and the next morning I collected my bride-to-be. We went to the courthouse, found a judge who was an old friend of mine, enlisted some people from the city clerk's office to act as witnesses and we were married.

We returned to the hotel, gathered up her things and went to my, now our, house.

I went to work, leaving her at home to put away her things and get accustomed to her new surroundings. I arrived home that evening and was greeted by the smell of pot roast, lilacs and a lovely smiling wife. 

"How was your afternoon, Mrs. Bender?"

"It was wonderful. How about yours?"

"It was okay. What is that I smell?"

"Pot roast, potatoes and carrots. I made a little trip to the grocery store. I thought my dear, sweet husband would appreciate a home-cooked meal."

We sat down at the table and I savored every bite.

"Rebecca, you are not only an incredibly beautiful woman and a great lover you are a fantastic cook."

She laughed and said, "I fear that you're still in the throes of an early romance but thank you for the compliment."

I helped her clear the table and wash and dry the dishes and then we sat for a while on the front porch swing, held hands and talked.

"If this is what married couples do I think I really like being married," she said.

I smiled and said, "I love being married - to you. And, I might add, this is not the only thing that married couples do."

She laughed, "What exactly is on your mind my dear husband."

I took her hand and brought her to her feet and said, "Follow me."

We locked the door, turned off the gas lamps and went into the bedroom. She looked at the bed and said, "Our marriage bed, my classroom, I pray that we spend many happy hours in it."

"I second that supplication. Shall we resume our studies?"

"Oh yes."

We undressed and got into bed.

"It's time for our third course. As you probably know, having read extensively there are many ways to make love or have sex, if you will, but all or most are variations of the three basics," I said.

"And those would be," she asked, smiling.

"Manually, conjugally and orally."

She hesitated and than said, "Well we've done the first two. Are you proposing the third?"

"Only if you are willing."

"In for a penny, in for a pound," she said.

I laughed and said, "In this venue there are variations, we can pleasure each other simultaneously,"

"Soixante-neuf," she said.

"You are indeed well read," I said.

"Thank you," she replied.

"Or," I said, "we can do it individually or sequentially."

"And which is to be, kind sir?"

"I think the first time we'll do it sequentially. I think it's easier to concentrate on the process if one is not distracted."

"You find me distracting?"

"Delightfully distracting."

"Okay," she said, "Who goes first."

"I'll do you first and then you can do me, but only if you want to."

"Ladies first," she said, "How very gallant."

"Nope, just practical, because after you do me I may not have the energy to do you."

"My husband the pragmatist," she said with a laugh. Then she said, "Should I lie down on the bed?"

"Yes," I said, "but not in the middle.. Let me show you."

She laid down and I positioned her sideways on the bed with her petite bottom right at the edge. I knelt in front of her, put one of her legs on the bed post and draped the other over my shoulder. She was opened wide and invitingly in front of me.

"My goodness," she said, "I feel so exposed."

"Indeed," I said, "and you you look enticing."

I began to lick slowly up the sides of her thighs getting closer to her prize with every passage. She responded with a moan and a burst of heady vaginal aroma. I put my hands on her labia and lovingly spread her nether lips apart. Sticking out my tongue I made a darting swipe up her pussy, starting near her rectum and ending with a suck on her clitoris.

"Oh, that feels fantastic," she said. "Like your fingers although wetter and more sensitive."

I licked her again and yet again and she said, "How do I taste?"

I stopped licking for a moment and said, ,"Like strawberries and burgundy wine."

"Really?"

"Well, not exactly. It's hard to describe but I thought that sounded good."

"It feels wonderful."

"It tastes even better."

I pushed my face eagerly into her entrance and moved it from side to side, coating my face with her essence. She gasped and moaned and I inserted my middle finger into her tunnel and began to move it in and out while I nibbled on her clitoris.

"Oh my dear sweet man!"

I probed and licked harder.

"Oh my dear sweet man!", she cried, louder.

I probed and licked and nibbled harder still.

"OH, MY DEAR SWEET MAN!", she shouted as she climaxed.

"Oh, my dear sweet woman," I said, "I love to please you."

I stood up and moved her still trembling body lengthwise on the bed and then walked around the bed and laid down beside her. I took her in my arms and kissed her. My face was still dripping from her juices. She licked around my taste and said, "Maybe raspberries and burgundy wine."

I laughed and held her close.

"What do you taste like," she asked.

"Taste me and see," I said, "but only if you want to."

"After what you just did for me I could hardly refuse."

"Then, Mrs. Bender, help yourself."

She put her hand on my cock and said, "It feels like dinner is ready."

"Ready and willing," I replied.

She moved to between my legs and I reached behind and put two pillows under my head so I could watch her.

"Do you want to watch me eat my dinner?" she asked, "In case I have bad table manners."

"Madame the viewing is simply for my pleasure. I want to watch you pleasuring me."

"I've never done this before, you know."

"I'm sure you'll have no problem learning how."

She laughed, looked lovingly at my cock and balls and began to touch and stroke them.

"Is it alright to eat with my hands?"

I laughed and said, "I'm not sure what Emily Post would have to say about that but you certainly have my permission."

"Well, here goes," she said and took her first taste of masculine menu. She lovingly licked up the base of my cock, paused and said, "Sort of like Kansas City strip sirloin, medium rare."

I laughed heartily and said, "Mrs. Bender you are a saucy little wench."

"Wench, is it?"

"You're my wench. You're my wife. You're my life."

"Thank you," she said.

She put her tongue on the sensitive spot just under the crown and licked up and down.

"Ah, you remembered," I said.

"I told you I was a good student," she said with a laugh.

"Now, take it all in your mouth," I said.

"Like this?"

"Exactly like that. No response is necessary. It's not polite to talk with your mouth full."

She laughed while she sucked and her mouth moved enchantingly on my hard cock.

"Touch my balls, very gently."

She did and I said, "Good girl."

She stopped and said, "Just good?"

"I'm sorry. Let me re-phrase, wonderful, marvelous, fantastic, phenomenal, stupendous, mind-boggling."

She stopped again and said, "You sound like Roget's Thesaurus."

"I am a journalist, you know."

"Well, I hope you won't write about this for your newspaper."

"It will be our secret."

She went back to work, plunging her mouth deeply down on my cock and then pulling back, pursing her lips and paying special attention to the sensitive head.

"Oh, Rebecca, I'm about to climax!"

She grunted approvingly and worked even faster and sweeter. I could feel my love load rising and rising and rising and then I erupted into her mouth. She stopped sucking and, looking directly at me, she rolled my seed around in her mouth and then she swallowed it. She sighed and said, "Very tasty."

"And rich in proteins, I am told."

"Proteins are good," she said.

She laid back down beside me and we drifted off to sleep with sweet dreams of many more nights to come on our marriage bed in our little house in our little town on the prairie.



The Mail Room



A smile and a wink, that's all it was. The smile was nothing new; Anna had flashed the same smile as she'd passed my desk every day for almost a year. It was part of our daily routine; a smile, an exchange of "hello," and so the day would progress in its usual fashion. No, it was the wink that was new, something out of the ordinary, something that set this morning apart from all the rest.

Was there more to the wink? I wondered, if so, what? Had there been a hint of mischief in it, or had it just been a wink? My phone went, the day began, and all thoughts of Anna, smiles and winks were quickly dispelled as work took over.

The day passed, as days always do; phone calls, emails, meetings, cups of coffee. In this age of electronic communication, I rarely had reason to visit the mail room; occasionally, however, there was the occasional letter that needed my "wet" signature, the occasional missive that couldn't be entrusted to those ever-so-useful little electrons that so much of my daily communication depended on. Today, such a piece of paper landed on my desk.

The mail room was up two flights of stairs. I took them two at a time and, as I rounded the corner at the top, I had to side-step quickly to avoid running head first into Anna, who was chatting to one of her colleagues in the corridor. A mumbled apology, a smile and I was on my way. Was that a giggle I heard as I rounded the corner towards the mail room door?

At the door there was the usual fumble in my pocket for my security fob, the beep as I pressed the fob to the receptor and finally the click as the lock disengaged to let me in. Unlike the constant hustle and bustle of my office with its perpetual cacophony of human voices and telephones; so constant that they faded into the background, becoming almost inaudible in their familiarity, the mail room was, at this time of day at least, when the sorting staff had left for the day, silent; a haven of peace and quiet away from the hubbub of daily office life.

Then began the hunt for the right envelope; boxes pulled off shelves and checked, before being returned to their place on the shelf. Eventually the correct stationery was found, my form placed carefully inside, the envelope safely sealed and I was ready to do battle with my nemesis, the franking machine.

It was while I was engaged in my struggle with the temperamental piece of machinery that I became suddenly aware that I was no longer alone. A finger traced its way down my spine and a voice I recognised as Anna's whispered in my ear, "I've locked the door from the inside, no-one can disturb us." Her hands slipped around my waist and slowly began to stroke their way up my chest.

"Anna... I... Uh..." I started to protest, but she cut me off.

"I want this," she said, "I've wanted you since the first day I saw you, and now I'm going to have you."

I turned around. Raising herself on tip-toes, she placed her lips on mine. The kiss was gentle but quickly became more urgent. Anna's hands began tugging my shirt from my trousers, her fingers quickly undoing the buttons before slipping under the material to explore my chest. "Fuck me!" she exclaimed, breaking away momentarily from the kiss, "You really are a hairy bastard aren't you?" Before I could reply, her lips were on mine again, her tongue probing my mouth.

Anna's hand strayed to my crotch. I gasped as she stroked my growing erection through my trousers. With a deft flick of her fingers, she undid my belt. Seconds later I was unbuttoned and unzipped. "Fuck!" I groaned with as much eloquence as I could muster as her fingers slipped inside my boxer shorts and began to stroke my cock.

"That is going to feel so fucking good inside me," Anna purred as she worked he fingers up and down my shaft, "My cunt is already wet thinking about you fucking me."

Without a further word Anna knelt down in front of me, freeing my straining cock from the confines of my boxer shorts. She looked up at me and licked her lips. "It looks as good as it feels," she said then winked.

There it as again; the wink. It was the same wink that she'd flashed at me earlier, only this time there was no mistaking her intent; Anna quite clearly had mischief in mind.

I shuddered as she placed a gentle kiss on the tip of my cock. Her lips were moist and warm. I moaned as she kissed and licked all over my shaft. Anna looked up at me, and almost hesitantly asked, "Would you like me to suck your cock? I really want to suck your cock." I nodded my assent and she smiled.

She pressed her lips against the tip of my cock. They parted slowly as she gently moved her head forward, slipping me into her mouth one agonising millimetre at a time. Slowly, steadily; she slid her lips along my shaft for what seemed like an eternity until she had me in fully, her nose pressed against my abdomen, the swollen head of my cock lodged in the back of her throat.

With a leisurely slowness, Anna began to move her lips back and forth along my length. "Fuck Anna!" I gasped as she cupped my balls in one hand and swirled her tongue around my engorged crown. Her slow teasing was driving me mad. It was all I could do to resist the urge to grab her head and begin fucking her mouth.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Anna began to increase her pace. Her head rocked up and down and from side to side as she worked her lips back and forth along my cock. I could tell she was enjoying herself as much as I was enjoying her attentions.

It's fair to say that I'd fantasised about Anna before. I'll be honest and admit that I regularly fantasise about any number of my female colleagues. The actuality, however, of Anna sucking my cock went far beyond any fantasy. Whether it was the unexpected nature of our encounter, or the fact that just feet away, on the other side of a partition wall, our colleagues were going about their jobs unaware of what was going on practically under their noses, it made no difference to me, Anna's mouth around my cock and the expert way in which she sucked it was electrifying.

It was perhaps inevitable that, just as I was revelling in what an amazing cocksucker Anna was, she chose that moment to stop. Standing up, she braced herself against the counter and said with aplomb, "My turn."

"Fair enough," I replied with a shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. I ran my hand up the inside of her thigh, up under her skirt. She flinched and bit her lower lip as my fingers brushed against the soaked gusset of her knickers.

"Mmmmm, fuck!" she moaned as I gently rubbed her mound through the wet material, occasionally slipping a finger inside to lightly graze her moist lower lips. Her hips bucked slightly, pressing herself more firmly against my fingers. "Christ!" she sighed as I slid a finger inside her, "I can't wait to feel your cock inside me."

Anna was desperate for me to fuck her and, to be honest, I was pretty keen to give her what she wanted, but before that, I had to taste her.

Hitching her skirt up over her arse, I knelt down and pulled her gusset to one side. "Fuck! Oh fuck!" she moaned as my tongue worked its way between her glistening, enflamed folds. Almost at once her hips began to buck, forcing her pussy against my mouth.

I lapped hungrily at her cunt, savouring the taste of her juices as they flowed over my tongue. Anna's body was shaking; a couple of gentle flicks of my tongue on her clit was all that took to push her over the edge.

As she came, I fed her orgasm with my tongue. Her body flinched violently with every touch. Every flick caused another moan to escape from between her lips. The moans slowly coalesced into words. "Fuck me!" she sobbed, "Please fuck me."

I stood up and put my hands on Anna's hips. Her body was still shaking as I positioned the head of my cock at the entrance of her cunt. I wanted to take it slowly, to ease into her, but Anna had other ideas. Thrusting her hips back, she impaled herself on me. "Fuuuuccccckkkkkk," she sighed as I filled her. "I... I knew you'd feel good inside me," she breathed softly, flexing the walls of her cunt around my shaft, gripping me tight inside her. "Now, fuck me!" she demanded, "Fuck me hard!"

I began to thrust, slowly at first, savouring the warm, wet tightness of Anna's cunt around my cock. Soft, contented murmurings issued from Anna's mouth as I worked my cock deep inside her. "That's it," she moaned, "That's it! God your cock feels so good inside me."

Picking up the pace, I reached up under her blouse. Anna reached behind her to unclasp her bra as I pulled the cups down, supporting the weight of her full breasts in my hands. "Mmmmmm, fuck!" she gasped as my thumbs teased her nipples. "Shit! Fuck!! That feels so, sooooo good!" she moaned as I pinched them between my fingers, tugging on them sharply, causing her to thrust back against me as my cock plunged into her depths.

We moved together as I fucked her; my strokes long and deep; her cunt flexing around my cock. "Christ!" I moaned as she reached back between her legs to cup and squeeze my balls as I drove my cock into her with increasing force.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck! I'm cumming!" she sobbed, as her body began to tremble, her hips bucking even more urgently against me. I could feel the waves of her climax ripple through her cunt as its walls spasmed, gripping me ever more tightly.

Almost inevitably, Anna's climax triggered my own. I could feel my balls tighten, my load rising up through me. "I... Ahhh... I'm so close," I groaned through clenched teeth as I struggled to hold back, willing myself to last that little bit longer."

"Cum for me," Anna panted, "I want to feel you release inside me."

I slid my hands from Anna's breasts and gripped her hips tightly; pulling her on to me as I pounded her cunt.

"Cum!" she breathed, "Cum!"

I could hold on no longer. Hot fire coursed through me as my load surged through my cock.

"Fuuuucccckkkkk!" I moaned as my cock erupted, pumping jet after jet of cum deep into Anna's body.

"Mmmmmmm, yesssssss" she purred as my cum flooded her cunt.

I pinned her against the counter as I emptied myself into her; my cock pressed firmly inside her. The walls of her cunt still gripped me, although the pulsing spasms were less intense as her climax slowly dissipated.

Finally I pulled away, spent, my cock beginning to subside. Anna pulled the gusset of her knickers in place to catch my cum as it began to dribble from her well fucked hole. Straightening her skirt and fixing her bra and blouse, she smiled at me and gave me that wink again before kneeling in front of me and gently cleaning my cock with her mouth.

A few minutes passed as we sat together on the floor of the mail room; sharing the intensity of experience as control slowly returned to our bodies. Finally we got to our feet. Smiling, she kissed me. "Thank you," she said softly into my ear, "That was the nicest leaving present anyone has given me today." She kissed me once more then, once again she gave me that wink. With a swish of her hips, she walked to the door, unlocked it and was gone. I shook my head to gather my thoughts before leaving the mail room as well. There was no-one in the hallway outside, and no-one in the stairwell. Pausing briefly at the canteen to make myself a coffee, I returned, smiling broadly, to my desk. 



The Mail Slot



Mary sat on the front stairs the same way she always did, waiting for the mail to arrive. She breathed deeply the scent of the old house. The sweet musty odor of the basement permeated the broken cold air return and blended itself with the smell of freshly dried varnish from the steps. Mary found comfort in this marrying of smells.

Mary had always lived in older homes. She had been fortunate enough to acquire this gem. It had been a labor of love to repair and mend what had been neglected for so long. Mary and her husband had spent much of the past two years remodeling their home and having a baby. Mary was only twenty-five but she felt much older. She was very tired and very sad. She was going to miss living here.

Mary had given herself completely to her husband. When they first met she had been a mess. He took care of her every need because she was capable of nothing. Mary never thought it was strange, and it never bothered her to ask him for permission to do the most innocuous of things. 

Whether for great or small, Mary always asked for permission. Mary asked for permission to go out, and Mary asked for permission to buy a stick of deodorant. Mary liked to do whatever it was that would please her spouse. Now there seemed to be no pleasing him at all and this left her feeling lost.

Entering therapy two months before they were married, Mary sought to correct the damage her dysfunctional childhood had wrought. Now she was finishing up with her treatment and was wondering where the last three years had taken her. She was left wondering who she really was.

The front hallway was the only project left that needed completing. The front door ran parallel with the stairs. Mary normally kept the stairwell blocked off in order to keep the baby from harm. Mary's own personal room which was used for her own personal things was at the top of this particular set of steps.

Spending much of her free time in the stairwell, Mary was very much at home. She was on a regimen of diet soda and stair running. Mary had been feeling very unattractive as of late. 

She had never been a beautiful woman or a thin girl. She did not have the longest lashes or the thinnest ankles, but she was nevertheless a woman. She had womanly desires and a need to be desired in return.

Always a devoted homemaker Mary took every duty seriously. Every dinner made, every shirt pressed to perfection, every mopping of the floor was an act of love. Every time she was called worthless, stupid, or bitch; every time a door was slammed in her face, and every time an object was thrown at her Mary's heart broke a little more.

Out of a sense of responsibility to her daughter, Mary left the home that she had made with her husband. Determined, Mary would never let her daughter grow up the way that she had. After much cajoling on the part of her spouse, she was back not three months later. Things seemed slightly better this time. Unfortunately Mary's husband had neglected many things in her absence.

Finances were such upon her return that her primary goal was to ready the house to sell. Mary's heart broke every time she ran her hands over the wallpaper that she so lovingly put up on those neglected walls. She always sighed wistfully as she moved her hands over the silky texture, knowing that she would no longer be able to do this in a few months time.

For now, Mary had a lot of time on her hands. She kicked herself for giving up her car the previous year in order to help with the bills. Much of her time now was spent in the house completely secluded from the outside world.

Mary thought of all these things as she waited for the mail. Sunlight filtered in through the window at the top of the door. She was acutely aware of the sunshine and warmth that lie on the other side. It had occurred to her to open the door, but she never did. Things were just safer this way.

Many older homes have lovely quirks that make them unique. Mary's home was no exception. The mail slot especially was unusually high on the door. Roughly three quarters of the way up, it lay only two feet in length below the window at the top. 

Mary was a little over five feet tall, and could see directly into the mail slot. Due to physics, the outer cover, and the depth of the slot, an observer from the outside of the house could see almost every thing in the hallway. A person on the inside could only see the eyes of the outside observer, and this was only if looking straight on. Soon after they had moved in Mary observed this phenomenon.

She was startled back to reality by the heavy sound of boots thumping up the front steps of her house. The mail slot creaked open. The man briefly looked into the slot before a thick wad of mail held together by a rubber band was thrust inside. The mail fell to the floor with a dull thud.

Mary happened to be wearing a dress on this one particular occasion. She counted her blessings that she had not sat higher up on the staircase. Mary chuckled to herself at the thought of the mailman getting a good view of her. 

Lonely was Mary. Lonely enough to seek comfort from the outside world, Mary used her computer and she used the mail. She had made a few friends and even experimented having a Master on the phone, but that was a shallow relationship. As with all shallow things which give us pleasure it had always lacked luster, and that became more obvious with time. 

Six months earlier this would never had occurred to her. Mary had only had eyes for her husband. Now their bond was broken. Mary had her fun on the phone but she wanted to take one step further in making that human connection that binds us all.

Appealing to her husband on more than one occasion, Mary begged for things like spankings and bondage. Her husband always found it strange. Before their split she was lucky if she had sex once per month. Now sex was nonexistent. The one time post-split that they did try, her husband lost his erection claiming that he couldn't feel anything. Since then he had been reluctant to even touch her, implying that she wasn't "tight" enough to satisfy him.

Mary sucked down her pain and decided to take care of herself. She had always enjoyed playing with household items. She enjoyed the kinkiness of it, and the causative pain that larger objects gave. Her latest toy was an empty can of diet soda. Mary loved the delicious pain as the firm metal rounded her pubic bone. She loved the burn of the stretch and the subsequent sound of crinkling as her orgasm sucked and squeezed the cylinder.

Despite her fascination with stretching, Mary would never go any larger than the can. She had no interest in being incontinent of urine by the age of forty. Even still, speculums held her captive as she imagined being able to see not only the flesh of the woman, but the person inside; who the woman truly was. Life begins in the womb; perhaps that is where souls reside.

Mary waited for the mail the next day, the same way she always did. The exception being that this time she would be daring. Once again, she wore a dress, but this time she sat half way up on the steps with her legs fed through the rungs. The synthetic material of the dress lacked the ability to wick away her sweat. 

The hallway was soft and warm; Mary was warm and moist with perspiration. She preparedly pulled her skirt to her knees, keeping herself well covered. She looked through the bars at her bare feet dangling below; clearing her mind of everything outside the hallway.

Once again Mary heard the familiar thud of boots. She looked straight ahead and held her breath as the mail slot creaked open. From her angle, Mary could not see his eyes. He quickly peered in, and stopped for a second as if pondering. Then he reached into his bag and gently pushed the mail through the slot. He hesitated; he stopped a second longer than he normally would. Mary felt his eyes on the door and imagined him shaking his head as he walked thudding back down the steps and up the sidewalk. She breathed a sigh of uncertain relief.

The mailman was not Mary's favorite person in the world. She had a few unfavorable, yet brief encounters with him in the past. The most memorable of these occurred the previous winter. 

Mary had been working on a project in her room. She moved a few things to the base of the stairs. She expected the mail to arrive much later, so she hung a hooded sweatshirt on a hook which just happened to be on the front door. The cloth would not completely impede mail from entering; she wasn't worried. 

On the day in question, he arrived earlier than he normally did. When the man tried to put mail in the slot and felt resistance, he immediately clenched the mail; crumpling it into his fists while stomping his feet on the porch. He screamed expletives at the top of his lungs. This grown man had a temper tantrum on her front porch that would make a toddler appear tame. 

Mary ran to the door, swung it open, grabbed her mail from the hands of the wide-eyed postal worker, and then slammed the door shut in his face. She couldn't remember what he looked like now, nor did she really care. She held only the image of the back of his head in her mind; as she ever only saw him when he was walking away.

Over the course of the following week, Mary became more daring. She willed herself to be brave. Mary enjoyed the endorphin release that playing a controlled game of chicken gave her. 

Each day as she awaited the mail, she sat on the steps with her skirt high enough to show her panties. The mailman definitely took notice now. He always would stop and stare. Yet still, neither of them spoke. Their silence said enough. Each day Mary walked away with her endorphin high, and each day Mary became increasingly brave. Ultimately she was looking to connect; she wanted that rush. At the end of the week Mary decided that the time was right.

Each day she had worn a skirt or dress and sat halfway up the front stairs with her legs poking between the rungs. Mary wanted more. The beginning of the second week Mary decided to leave her panties off. The mailman was going to get quite the surprise indeed. The thought both frightened her and aroused her intensely.

Mary sat midway up the staircase, waiting for the mail to arrive. She sat with her legs slightly parted; no undergarments to be found. This was strangely liberating for her. Mary was experiencing a tingling sensation throughout her entire body. She was surprised at her own wantonness. Mary was nervous, but markedly aroused at just the thought of being seen. 

Mary was so nervously aroused that her feelings could almost be confused for a need to urinate. Mary started to get up to use the restroom as she heard that familiar thud.

Like a deer caught in headlights, Mary held her breath. Fear was her master now; its fingers gripped her and held her in place. She tipped her head back as she heard the familiar creak of the mail slot being opened. A sensual breeze flooded the hallway and Mary became very physically aware of how very exposed she was. She felt his eyes probe into the hallway. He sucked his breath in surprise. 

Mary was uncomfortable, it was hot, and despite her exposure; some part of her wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. Statuesque, she took short shallow breaths as she tried to breathe as quietly as possible. After what felt like an eternity she felt him exhale. 

Despite the breeze, the hallway was hot. A pool of moisture had developed under her body and holding her form became more difficult. He breathed out a soft moan.

She could feel his gaze roaming all over her; hovering over her exposed flesh. She was almost grateful when she heard a muffled voice call him out of his reverie. Mary heard him reluctantly compose himself and walk away. She took this opportunity to grab hold of the rungs and pull herself upright. She ran to her room. 

Mary stood at the top of the stairs massaging the temporary marks that the rungs had left on her. She heard him come back to deliver the mail. His disappointment was evident in the way the mail fell to the floor and the cover slowly fell closed. Mary's heart sank. She was very disappointed with herself.

Mary avoided the front hallway for a few days. She was terrified of that which she could not precisely speak. Fear weighed heavily in the pit of her stomach. She felt the loss of those probing eyes, and was still without the connection that she was seeking. Despite her reservations Mary decided to continue. Compulsive, Mary set out to complete the task that she had created.

After taking a few days to herself, Mary started waiting for the mail again. She sat halfway up the stair with her legs spread taut; a few rungs apart while drinking a diet soda. Those few days had been the trick; Mary was feeling brazen. She smiled and leered in the direction of the door. That familiar thump of footsteps grew louder; albeit a bit slower than they had used to be. 

Mary enjoyed the gentle bondage that the rungs provided; they gave her something solid to hold onto. She grasped the rungs so tightly in anticipation that her knuckles turned white. She was exposed once again. 

This time her perspiration made her feel clean. Mary felt raw and pure. She wanted this. She wanted it all. As the mail slot creaked open, that sweet breeze permeated the hallway. She felt it touch her and cool her hottest spots. Her heat collided with the cool air striking a balance in the hallway.

His eyes were on her as she pulled her dress up over her head. His hot gaze penetrated the room as she discarded her garment, throwing it on the floor. He audibly moaned. Mary thought he sounded pleased.

Reaching down with her right hand, Mary opened herself so that he could view her better. That air touched her and aroused her further. This was her show, and here was her captive audience. His breathing became increasingly ragged as she gently started rubbing herself. Working with her own moisture, she found her rhythm. The only sound, of which she was aware, was that of her heart fastidiously pounding to that very same beat.

Mary was surprised as a new feeling replaced the nervousness in the pit of her stomach. She was aware for the first time of her power over him. Mary thought of this man held captive by just the view of her sex. 

He more than likely had an erection but he was not able to touch her unless she granted him permission to enter. The laws of society forbade him from relieving himself where he stood. That thought alone was enough pleasure to send her over the edge, but she was not yet done. 

Bracing herself against the rungs with her legs, Mary now held herself open with her left hand. She looked down at the mail slot imagining his eyes on her as she wielded the soda can with her right. Leaning back in order to ensure better access, she heard him moan again. 

Lovely was the cold metal against her hot skin. Mary wiggled the object against her opening and gritted her teeth. She used her left hand deftly moving the skin of her lips out of the way, readying herself for this cold kiss. Mary pushed with all her might squeezing her eyes shut; focusing on the task at hand. She was well lubricated and the first half was pleasantly painful but easy enough. 

Mary leaned back even more. Her exposed rear stuck to the wood of the step. She used this to her advantage as she pivoted the top half of her body backward. 

Pushing the can with every bit of strength she could muster, it rounded her pubic bone. Shifting uncomfortably due to a pinching sensation, Mary grasped the small amount of metal that was left outside her body. She moved the can; pulling it, inching it out. In turn, she felt her body resist; trying to suck it back inward. 

Discomfort mattered little now. She repeated that game of tug of war as the hallway faded away. Mary faded away to nothing but a living vessel comprised only of human sensation. 

There was no thought in this place; only feeling. It was dark and it was beautiful; it was beautiful and it was light. It was empty and full to brimming all at the same time. It was everything and it was nothing at all. She was a walking breathing living human contradiction. 

She was severely conflicted, and Mary finally found comfort. She found comfort in understanding and accepting all of this; all of her. She could hear nothing but the blood pounding in her veins. Pleasure, pain, love and hate all boiled in that same pot, surged up and bubbled over. 

Mary's body rocked and squeezed with every contraction. She heard the soft crinkle of the can. Mary felt her soul reverberate. She cried out in pleasure; that pleasure became sighs, and those sighs turned into sobs. 

As the rest of her senses came back to her, Mary became aware that she was still being watched. He was indeed still there, but completely and utterly silent. She was exhausted; emotionally and physically spent. Sweat ran in streams down the side of her face. Sweat dripped down the back of her shaky legs. The sensation of physical pain came back to her. 

Mary grunted softly as her unsteady hand weakly removed the can. She collapsed backward onto the step and stared up at the ceiling. The can fell from her loose fingers and rolled down the steps. Left in its wake was a cavern, the depths of which he could not see. She felt his eyes penetrate intensely into her.



The Mailboy



Nancy, this is not right. I need the graph to the right of the text not centered above it, and the spacing is way off. Try using a ½ inch margin. I want this down to one page.”

“Yes, Ms. Buchanan. I’m right on it.”

Laura Buchanan turned her back on her faithful secretary and headed back to her office, when she heard…

“Picky, picky, picky”

She swiveled to see the mailboy, ghetto as usual, with a grin on his face. “Excuse, me?”

“There is no excuse for talking to people that way. Ever heard of ‘please’?”

“And you are?”

“Jamal. Jamal Washburn.”

“Whatever, mailboy. I suggest you take your mail-dispensing, smart-ass back down to the mail room where your baggy jeans belong.”

“Whew. Ok, Ms. Buchanan. I’ll leave you to your secretarial abuse,” He said with a laugh.  “Good day, Nancy. And Good luck.”

Laura went to her office and looked out upon the cityscape. “The nerve of that hoodlum talking to me like that,” she thought. Laura wasn’t interested in taking anyone’s crap. She was always the crap giver. She wore the label Bitch like a medal of honor. Being the only female partner in her firm took balls, ironically enough. Being the youngest took the kind of hard work and attention to detail no mailroom flunkie could ever understand. “Screw him,” she thought and returned to her presentation material. As usual, she threw herself into her work.

Next day, the presentation went off without a hitch.  Laura knew she grabbed the account and felt like celebrating. She decided to treat herself to an afternoon at the spa. She cleared her schedule with Nancy, even gave her the afternoon off. Nancy took advantage of this unusual generosity and headed out with a brief, “See ya.”

Laura sat down at Nancy’s desk to check tomorrow’s appointments so she would not get caught slipping. 

“What’s this? Nancy finally left your mean behind, huh?”

Laura looked up to see the smart ass mail guy from yesterday. “The mailboy. What an unpleasant surprise.”

“It’s Jamal. And it’s good to see you too Laura.”

Laura? “I was having a good day. Why don’t you leave the mail and move on?”

“Alright Laura, have it your way.” Jamal dropped a package in the in box and turned to go.

“Oh and this Laura thing is a little too familiar for my taste. Ms. Buchanan will do nicely.”

“Laura, you need to loosen up.”

“What do you know about what I need?” 

“I know exactly what you need. And if you are ever game enough to find out, give me a call.” Jamal scribbled his number on a post-it and stuck it to Nancy’s desk. He walked away without a second glance. 

“Presumptuous Bastard,” Laura muttered. She crumpled the post it and put it in her coat pocket on her way to the spa. During her massage, she let her mind wander. It drifted to Jamal. She’d heard from girlfriends that ‘thug love’ was something special. It could be a good stress reliever, if nothing else. She let her thoughts move to sex with Jamal. A heated, passionate, sweaty fuck would be a good end to this day, she thought. She left the spa with enough sexual energy to light a city block.

She took out her cell phone and the post it. Lets do this before I lose the nerve. Jamal picked up on the third ring.

“Ms. Buchanan. I was just thinking of you.” Damn caller id. No hanging up now.

“Jamal, hey. How are you?”

“I’m swell. But Laura, you can cut the small talk. Why’d you call?”

“Honestly, I was thinking of your offer.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m cooking dinner, have you eaten?”

“No, I haven’t”

“Then come on over.” He gave her is address and she arrived shortly thereafter. The neighborhood looked a little sketchy. Laura double-checked her car alarm as she walked up to the entrance of what looked to be a condemned warehouse.

Jamal answered the door in a sweater and cords. Looking casually handsome. Funny, she hadn’t noticed his shoulders before. His caramel self, looked pretty good. 

“Welcome.” Jamal took her coat and led her into a fashionable loft.

“I love your place. All this open space and these windows are incredible.”

“Thanks. The place was a steal after they busted the sweat shop.”

Laura laughed and tried to get beyond feeling over dressed. At least today’s business suit was tailored to her hourglass figure.

Jamal offered Laura a glass of wine as she seated herself on a barstool next to the kitchen island. 

“Pepperwood” She said after taking a sip. “Nice choice.” 

“Yeah, it should go well with the grilled salmon. And I’m going to make a quick salad, if you don’t mind keeping it light.”

Laura raised an eyebrow and said, “Sounds good.”

Jamal caught the look on her face. “Forget you Ms. Bourgeois. Like this ghetto boy should only know about McDonald’s and malt liquor.”

“I’m not saying that. Just surprised, that’s all.”

Jamal finished dinner and continued surprising Laura throughout the meal. They discussed politics, religion, and racism in America. Laura was enjoying the night and realized they had not mentioned sex at all. Good conversation be damned. She was still horny and it was getting late. Laura decided to call it a bust. 

“Jamal, thanks for a pleasant dinner, but I’m going to call it a night.” He could hear the disappointment in her voice

“I enjoyed myself, I hope we can do it again sometime.”

“Yeah, dinner was nice and you can hold your own in a debate.”

“We’ll definitely have to do this again, I never got around to showing you what you need.”

“That’s right, I almost forgot,” she lied. “What is it that I need Jamal?”

“This.” He came around to her side of the table, held her face in his hands and leaned in for a kiss. It was demanding and without pretense. He wasn’t kissing her. He was taking possession of her mouth without any hint of tenderness.

He pulled her up roughly, and began to undress her. Laura’s suit fell to the floor with astonishing speed. She watched as her favorite Armani formed itself into a heap. Jamal backed her towards an alcove hidden behind a high wall of glass blocks. The most amazing, 4-poster, king-sized bed awaited them. Her underwear went as quickly as the suit. She was positioned against the massive oak pillar as Jamal undressed. He took his time, watching Laura take in his body. Jamal was muscular with an athlete’s build: wide shoulders, tapered waist and strong legs. Laura felt somewhat self-conscious of her more than ample hips and rounded ass. Her breasts were large and full. She tried to cover herself as Jamal’s gaze became a stare. He stepped to her in one swift stride.

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice was raised. Jamal seemed truly angered.

“It’s just….”

“It’s just what? You have some issues with your body? You want some white girl’s thin legs or nonexistent ass?” Jamal pulled Laura’s hands away from her body. His voice lowered. “I love your big titties. I could spend all day right here.” Jamal put his face between the large orbs of flesh and licked the softness he found on either side.

“And these hips,” Jamal’s hands traveled the arc with reverence. Unknowingly, he had found Laura’s one insecurity. She squirmed underneath him as if to escape his embrace.

“God dammit, where are you trying to go?”

“Look, Jamal, we don’t have to pretend like we’re lovers. I’m looking for a good lay and then we can go back to the office like nothing happened. Let’s just fuck and leave the touchy feely stuff out of this.”

“See, that’s your problem. You always want to be in control, but that is about to change.”

Jamal had a strange look in his eye as he pushed Laura onto the bed. He reached under the bed and came back with a handful of silk ribbon. Laura’s eyes widened as she realized what was next. Jamal straddled her chest and roughly pulled Laura’s arms above her head. He tied one wrist to a spindle in the headboard. He checked the knots and went to work on her other arm. Panic set in as Laura noticed how tightly she was bound. Silk, or not, she would not be able to free herself. Jamal tied her feet as well. Laura’s anxiety level increased when she remembered that no one knew of her whereabouts. Jamal remained silent as he made Laura captive. She whimpered in protest, afraid to speak in case it would anger him further. 

He stood next to the bed. His voice was lowered and much calmer. But even less reassuring as he said, “Tonight you will learn what it means to lose control. You will beg me for release and I will ignore you. Again and again.”

Tears escaped Laura’s eyes as she feared the worst. 

Jamal’s voice softened even further. “Stop that. I am not going to hurt you. Much. You will ultimately enjoy this.” He approached the bed and ran his hand up her thigh. Laura flinched at his touch.

“I’ve scared you and I’m sorry. Laura, I assure you. You are not in any danger.” 

Laura pulled against her restraints. She was sure all serial killers used that line at some point. His words were doing nothing to assuage her fear.

She begged, “Please, untie me. I won’t tell anyone, just let me go. Please.”

“Laura, for the last time, violence is not what this is about. This is purely sexual. This is about you and what you need. This is about you giving up control for once. Trying something new. Experiencing something beyond the tired sex you’ve had in the past. If it helps, you can have what’s called a safe word. At any time, you can speak that word and this evening ends. You can go back to your workaholic life, drab and boring. The word for tonight is Monday. You can yell stop, quit, don’t and I will ignore them all. But say Monday and you walk. Laura, do you understand?

A quiet, “Yes” was whispered in response.

“Then let it begin” Jamal could see her chest heaving with shallow breaths. Her heart must be racing. That should be the end to this adventure, not the start. Jamal moved to Laura’s side. He stretched his tall frame next to hers and put his head on her shoulder. She did not recoil from his touch. That’s a start, he thought. Jamal said nothing as he deepened his breathing. Soon, Laura was also breathing deep in her abdomen. Laura knew that the evening held many possibilities, but the fact that he noticed her nervousness and helped calm her anxiety spoke volumes. She always had Monday, if things got out of hand.

Jamal felt it is was time to begin Laura’s journey. He slowly ran his hand along the side of her naked body. Making sure not to touch the traditional erogenous zones. He focused on places that were rarely touched: like her armpit, the underside of her breasts, her ankle. The skin there, unaccustomed to touch, was sensitive and responsive. Jamal stroked her body gently and slowly. Laura started thinking that this losing control thing was a good idea. He moved to the other side and began again. Even slower. She then, realized his purpose. She wanted him to touch her dampening pussy, she wanted him to lick her nipples. To kiss her like in the kitchen. And he was avoiding all of this. “Please, baby. You know what I want”

“This isn’t about what you want. Fuck what you want.”

He continued his exploration of her body. Touching all the places, most people forget. He concentrated on her collarbone, outlining the bony protrusion curiously.  He moved to the valley between her breasts. Laura moaned and tried to shift her body so her nipple would meet his warm tongue.

“Bitch, if I wanted it, I’d take it. Now stay still.”

Laura resigned herself to the feeling of frustration and willed herself to stay in place. Jamal moved lower. Licking the warm skin below her belly button. He kneaded the softness of her buttocks. Her skin was soft and slightly shiny from her massage. Her legs were parted from the restraints. Jamal moved between her thighs, getting closer, and closer to her wet pussy. He could smell almond oil from her heated skin. He licked the inside of her thigh up to where her ass and thigh met. He nibbled the delicate skin and traveled down the other side. Laura pushed her hips forward. Silently begging for his tongue to touch her moistened sex. He did not oblige. He continued to move his wet tongue down her leg until her reached the instep of her foot. He paused there, with long, broad, erotic strokes of his tongue. He moved to her toes and sucked them one by one into his mouth. Laura pulled against the wide ribbon, to no avail. 

“Oh, God I want you to fuck me.” Laura writhed and squirmed, hoping Jamal would tire of this teasing.

“Begging won’t help. I’ll fuck you when I get ready.” His voice was calm in contrast to her impassioned plea. He straddled her waist and stroked his dick in front of her. It was already semi-hard. Laura watched as he brought himself to his full length. 

Laura looked on in stunned silence. He continued to stroke himself, unhurriedly, in full view of her. He took his dick and rubbed the tip along her stomach. Down the line of hair that led to her neatly trimmed bush. She anticipated penetration, but could not have been more wrong. He persisted on teasing her. Moving all over her, he rubbed his hard dick against her soft skin. Finally he returned between her open thighs. He rubbed himself around her pussy. Spreading the lips, but making sure to avoid her clit. He circled his dick around her wet pussy over and over. Laura bucked against her restraints. Now she would beg in earnest.

“Damn, Jamal. I need that dick inside me. Don’t tease me anymore. I’m so ready and wet for you right now. Fuck this pussy, baby. Please, fuck me.”

Jamal moved away from her, Laura thought it was to better position himself for the aggressive fucking that would soon begin. Wrong. His knees straddled Laura’s head. She opened her mouth, ready to please him when he slapped her forcefully on the cheek with his hard dick. Her eyes wide with shock, she sputtered, “What the-”

“I’ve had about all I can take of your damn whining. If I want to hear your voice, I’ll ask your bitch ass a question. Other than that, try shutting the fuck up.”

She nodded, aware of the proximity of his dick to her face. She did not take her eyes off of it. Preparing for another blow.  He stared at her for a long time, until she averted her eyes. Satisfied that she understood, Jamal got up and rummaged under the bed.  Laura saw him approach and then felt cool silk on her eyelids. He tied the blindfold securely. “Can you see me, Laura?”

“No, I cannot.”

She could feel the weight of him on the bed with her. He moved closer to her, barely touching. “Can you feel me, Laura?”

“Yes, I can.” She first craved his touch, and now she craved his approval. It was important to please him. Laura thought if she could do that, he would give her the sexual release she so desperately needed.

He stroked her breasts, flicking the nipples with his nail. Laura moaned as she realized he was purposely making her nipples hard. He pulled on them, making them even longer. Then she felt something cold and metal being applied to her left nipple. “Oh shit!” she shrieked. She realized that this was some type of clamp. 

“Did I ask you something?”

“No, Jamal,” she said through clenched teeth.

“That’s right, I didn’t”

She could feel the clamp being tightened. Her nipple was burning, sending jolts of electricity straight to her already excited pussy. She thought she could take no more when the tightening stopped. She breathed deeply, trying to relax and remove herself from the pain. Visions of “Monday” floating behind the blindfold. Jamal gave her a minute to become accustomed to the nipple clamp. When her breathing was even and the muscles in her face were slack, he went to work on her right nipple. She withstood the clamp’s application without a sound. He stroked the underside of her breast, “Good girl.”

Laura was getting used to the pressure on her nipples. The blood was not flowing past the clamps and now, they were going numb. Her mind raced as to what could be next.

She felt a smooth pillow being placed under her ass. Jamal applied something cold and slippery to the crack of her ass. She was an anal virgin and tensed greatly, but said nothing. The punishment for speaking could be far worse than an ass-fuck. Laura felt Jamal’s fingers probe her rear opening. She felt a finger slip inside and rotate while pulsating in and out. It was incredibly erotic and felt better than she imagined it would. He inserted his finger as far as it could go and left it buried there, allowing Laura’s muscles to become used to the new feeling. He removed his finger and this time inserted two. He rotated, thrusted, and rested. Laura felt her asshole tense and then relax. Jamal continued this pattern until she accommodated both fingers easily. He removed his fingers and applied more lubricant to her ready asshole. She felt something cold and rubbery. It started off small and increased in size as it entered her. Just when she thought she could take no more, she felt her sphincter close around it. It was buried deep inside her as she felt the base of the butt plug against her cheeks. 

Jamal stood and surveyed his work. Laura was incredibly sexy, her full soft breasts moving slightly with every breath. The areolas large and tight, the nipples permanently hard in the clamps. Her lipstick was smudged from their kisses and her struggles. Her lips were swollen from biting, Laura not wanting to cry out. They looked incredibly inviting.

Jamal straddled her head again, his ass on her chest. He moved his penis above her mouth. He outlined her lips with the tip of his dick. Laura tried to move her head to lick him. He pulled himself out of reach. After this cat and mouse game, he rested his dick on her lower lip, pulling it down. Her tongue sat waiting, knowing he would fuck her mouth when he was ready. He lifted his hips and lowered his dick into her open mouth. Laura raised her head and began to suck him. She put forth effort like she never had before. This was different. She wanted so much to give him pleasure. She licked and lapped at his hard dick, making delicious, wet noises. He lifted his dick and placed his balls on her tongue. She licked eagerly, applying suction and pressure with her mouth. Jamal returned his dick to her lips and thrust himself deeply into Laura’s mouth. She could feel him deep in her throat. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pushed himself further inside. Her head trapped by the mattress and his hand in her hair, she could not move back from the onslaught of his dick. His rhythm varied and she did not have time to prepare her throat, her gag reflex setting in. He had both hands in her hair now, fucking her mouth violently. 

“Take it all, bitch. Yeah, that’s it.” Laura did her best to relax and let him have his way with her. She could feel his balls tighten against her chin and knew he would cum soon.

“Swallow it, and don’t spill a drop.” Laura had never let a man cum in her mouth and was nervous about the taste. She needn’t have worried. He was so far down her throat, his hot cum never touched her tongue. 

“Aw, fuck.” And with another grunt he pulled out of her mouth. She could still feel the weight of his legs and knew he was watching her. She made a show of opening her mouth and licking her lips to prove she had done as instructed. She tasted his salty cum for the first time. She felt him leave the bed and heard footsteps moving away from her. Laura heard water running and then a glass filling. She heard Jamal’s return as he drank greedily. God, she was thirsty. He was teasing her again. Drinking loudly and not offering her a drop.

He put the glass down noisily on the nightstand. She could hear water sloshing. She dared speak. “Can I please, have some water? I’ll do anything.”

“I already know you’ll do anything. You don’t really have a choice, do you Laura? But I’ll let you earn your water.”

He moved between her legs, his face mere inches from her pussy. She could feel his breath on her wet pussy lips, the air cooling them.