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 sportin... 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. Way out of chronology, my eyes dropped toward her mound only to observe the area bathed in moonlight, void of any hair and shining as if polished. The message and the visual suddenly came together and I gasped, my cock twitching at the reality. I then realised the picture I paint for her as well, naked, cock jutting out, washed in the rays of the moon. When meeting her eyes I realised she had long since gone past the part of reality and only need remained in her pleading eyes. Her legs could. More

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