He had been our postman for as long as I can remember, and was friendly with us all. He was 51 years old, about 6ft tall, head shaved bald and sporting a white goatee he was a handsome older gentleman (I had wanked a couple of times as I spied at him from my bedroom window and wondered what was under those trousers). He had a stocky build and nice smile he handled himself well and you could tell years of lugging around a heavy postbag had kept him in shape well. He was divorced, I knew that as mum was friends with his ex wife, and he lived in the same village as us but alone. I would see him on mornings I was awake and say hi nothing more. One afternoon I was walking towards my favourite toilet block (see previous stories) when I saw Ross coming out of them, I couldn't believe it. Was he just there using the toilets as normal or was he using them the same way I was intending too. I was so turned on at the thought of him possibly being interested in men I had to relieve myself in the. I knew it, she didn't. She was like a yo-yo and I was the floor, the spinning wheel almost touching me.Still sitting on the shower floor, I thought about a time both of them came over just to visit. She was wearing a dress and her long legs were stretched out on the couch across from my chair. The hem rode up along her thigh as she shifted back and forth while we talked. Her hand lay against bare skin above the knee. I thought about what I'd do if it were my hand, how I'd push it up higher, maybe against some damp hair, maybe there weren't any panties covering that hair, maybe there wasn't any hair around that lovely opening. I imagined the folds of skin being even and short as it surrounded that beautiful pink part hiding inside."How's the book coming?" Mike asked shocking me from the dream state I was enjoying."Fine," I tersely replied never being willing to talk about current writing projects, not even to friends far closer than he. "Another beer?"He chugged the remainder and.
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