Housewife's Choice Ch. 4

The postman became more courageous; "You're the best sight I've seen in a long time. Careful! If you let that shirt come open you could give me a heart attack!" He laughed at his own joke. Jean didn't laugh – she looked toward him and said, in a very sultry voice, "I bet you've been hoping it will come open." The man laughed again – this time nervously. Jean noticed that his look had become even more lustful. He was lost for a reply – he carried on gazing at her, his mouth becoming so dry he had to lick his lips. Jean now admitted to herself why she had felt restless.

"Well? – You haven't answered me. Have you been wishing it would come open?" Her voice had taken on a different tone.

"You know that I have," he answered quickly.

Jean pulled one side of the shirt apart displaying her lilac covered right breast.

"That's niccccceeee!" said the man his eyes widening.

"I bet you don't have many housewives giving you a treat like that? She smiled. "You're going to be behind with your round – I'm making you late."

"No problem, I can soon make up a bit of lost time. You've got lovely breasts if you don't mind me saying so. I never realised you could be such an obliging lady. Pity I warned you about the shirt coming open – I should have encouraged you to read your letters – then you'd have had to let go." He smirked as he said it.

"Would your heart be able to stand the excitement?" asked Jean laughing.

"I won't hold you responsible if it overloads," replied the postman.

"You're a very lecherous man with dirty thoughts," said Jean.

"I know – that's why I'm still standing here," he quipped.

Jean smiled at his comment. "Come into the house – close the door - but you can't stay long." She stepped backwards from the porch into the hallway – the postman followed closing the door behind him. Jean, still holding the shirt together backed up against the hallstand. "What do expect to see? When I let go of the shirt?" she asked in her deep sultry voice.

"Matching panties, to go with the bra. I know you're wearing stockings. Maybe a dark shadow just above your pussy - whatever I see I know it will be good."

"If I show you what is under here you'll probably want to have sex with me," she suggested.

"If you show me you'll most likely want that to happen," the postman ventured.

"Put down your bag," she instructed.

As he put the bag on the floor and looked up again at Jean she released her grip on the shirt. It fell apart, not too much, but enough for the postman to see she wasn't wearing any panties. His mouth fell open and his gaze was transfixed on the area between her legs. Jean let her hands grip each side of the unfastened shirt and she pulled it apart to expose her voluptuous tits. She held it back to increase his viewing pleasure and for a minute no one spoke.

"Fucking hell!" he hissed, stretching out the last syllables of each word. " You have just made my cock very, very hard."

"You were right about the next bit," said Jean. "You would want to – and I would let you."

"So lead the way to the bedroom," said the man.

"What's wrong with here? I told you – you can't stay long."

The postman threw off his jacket and unzipped his pants. Taking his cock in his hand he walked towards Jean. She rested against the hall table and very obligingly, spread her feet farther apart - ready to accommodate him. His hands went inside her shirt behind her back to undo her bra. He cupped her bare tits and told her how much he was going to enjoy fucking her. Jean liked his crudeness – it helped turn her on. She had never had a man talk to her like that before. George was always polite.

Her hands found the buttons that held up his trousers and unfastening them she pushed his pants round his ankles. No time to take them off, she thought - better be ready if someone interrupts. She looked and examined his hard cock. It was big – that is long – and thick too. She put both hands along the length and there was still room for another set of fingers.

Holding his cock against her slit she stood slightly on tiptoe and impaled herself on his tree trunk. She moaned as it went deep inside her and she held on tightly to his buttocks. He squeezed her nipples hard and bent his head to hold one between his teeth. As his tongue licked the end he bit gently into it. Moving his hands to grip the cheeks of her arse he pressed her tightly to him and began to lift and let her fall rhythmically on his cock. Slowly then faster – gently then roughly and harder – he talked dirty to her and told her he was going to give her the best fucking she had ever had. Jean just moaned softly.

On he went pounding into her. Jean orgasmed but the man carried on, lifting her onto the little table she wrapped her legs around him as his cock pummelled into her like a jackhammer. She threw her arms round his head and pressed her lips against his forcing her tongue into his mouth. She matched his movements pushing when he was shoving but still he didn't climax.

"How do you manage to last so long and stay so hard," she groaned.

"I'm only just warming up," he retorted. "Do you want me to stop?" He didn't break his stride as he said it.

"No, no! Don't stop whatever you do!" cried Jean. She was approaching orgasm No2 – very fast. The man broke off anyway and Jean almost screamed at him. "What are you doing – don't stop?"

"Turn around," commanded the postman. "Bend over the table."

Jean felt an intense sexual feeling flood through her body. He wanted to take her "doggy fashion." She had to be submissive and offer her backside up in the air for his pleasure. She obeyed, and as she glanced at his thick hard cock she wondered what it would feel like to have it up a different orifice. The thought made her feel even more wanton. Turning and bending she spread her legs wide and pushed her arse in the air ready to carry on being shafted hard by the postman's thick long cock. As a sign of submission she gathered the shirt in her hands and pulled it up to show her naked arse.

The postman rammed his cock into her cunt and once again began to fuck her hard and fast. Slipping his arms round to her front he let one hand massage her left tit while the other tickled the top of her slit and pushed to find her clitoris. Jean groaned again and closed her eyes amazed and thrilled at the man's staying power. What a shame George was due home soon! She could be fucked like this all day, she thought.

All good things come to an end. The combination of feeling the man's hands and cock working on her did the trick. Jean got her second orgasm and was beginning to wonder whether a third was possible when suddenly the man let out a yell and she felt his hot load shoot inside her. He slowed to a stop and Jean's head and shoulders collapsed on the table both taking a minute to recover them-selves. It would have looked a strange sight if anyone had walked into the house at that moment. Jean with her naked arse in the air bending over a table and the postman with trousers round his ankles, his cock buried in Jean's cunt – but both of them very still, and both silent.

The postman realised he still had a lot of work to do and told Jean he'd better get on his way. Before he tucked his penis back into his pants Jean took hold of it and, run her hands along the shaft. Smiling to him she said, "I think you are a filthy, lecherous fornicator – and next time I'm alone in the house I'll have to be careful you don't take advantage of me."

"When's that likely to be?" asked the postman.

"May not be for a while – but don't worry – I'll be sure to meet you at the door."

With that the postman went on his merry way to deliver his letters. George met him along the lane.

"Good morning!" said the happy postman.

"Good morning," answered George. "Have you left anything at my house?"

"Oh yes," the man answered, "I certainly have!"

George entered the cottage and called out for his wife.

"I'm in the shower!" she shouted to him, "Won't be long."

George then noticed the mornings' mail on the hall table. That's funny, he thought. Why didn't the postman leave it in the porch like he usually does? If Jean's in the shower she couldn't have picked it up – he's only just been. And Jean doesn't normally leave the door unlocked while she showers. Funny that, he thought. Perhaps he would ask her about it later.