Benefits of the Job Ch. 01

They dined out at least once a week. Nelson ordered the New York strip, Suzanne the pasta primavera. A glass of red and a glass of white. They quietly talked. She told him of the class she was teaching, The American Novel. Gatsby was currently being discussed, which Suzanne loved. Nelson was not as enthusiastic. He preferred Wharton, about whom they had talked last week. This epitomized their relationship, at least one aspect of it, for she was an educated and insightful woman, a proud Dartmouth grad. Steeped in academia, she inhabited a world very different from his. He was an educated man as well, but his study of history had come at the United States Military Academy at West Point.

They had been brought together as a couple that might or might not work. She had been the more skeptical one, but Nelson's insights into Steinbeck had fascinated Suzanne. His acute understanding of history, in which he had majored, had won her over. Had he spent his military career in something like infantry or armor, it probably would not have worked. But intelligence had been Nelson's branch, in which he rose to lieutenant colonel in his eighteen years. The talk left Gatsby's world of the 1920s.

"And what was your day like?" Suzanne asked him.

The answer could go one of two ways. It could be very mundane, for Nelson was a letter carrier. After the service, he had sought simplicity. And his postal service work added toward his federal retirement. His intent was to work until he had thirty years total between the Army and the USPS, and then move on. Most often, there was not much to tell. But on occasion, his response to the question went another way. Suzanne was waiting. And he gave her the answer that would get her complete attention.

"I had sex with one of my customers today."

It was earlier that day, a Thursday. Nelson parked his truck at the end of Oak Street. Normally here he would walk two blocks down and back, beginning at the white house on the corner and delivering mail all the way. But today he gathered only a magazine and three letters. All the mail for the white house. He glanced at the handful. National Geographic, a credit card offer, a utility bill. And something from Stanford, which identified the recipient as an alum. That was Mia, who lived in the white house with her husband and two children. He commuted to work somewhere, and Nelson never saw him outside of Saturdays. The kids were in school. But on Monday he'd found her in the garden planting rosebushes, and she told him that she'd taken the week off. On Tuesday she was throwing a ball for their golden retriever, Splash. Nelson had paused, enjoying the display of her athleticism.

Mia was tall, maybe five--eleven he thought. Dark shoulder-length hair. Wearing shorts, as she usually was when he encountered her in the yard. Jean shorts that displayed her long legs. She was not slender, her body more shaped by activity. Once she had mentioned that she played volleyball in a community league. All of that was very nice, and the intelligence and achievement indicated by her education accentuated her physical presentation. It was the same reason he was with Suzanne.

Yesterday, Nelson had delivered a parcel to Mia. She'd offered him a glass of ice water, and he'd accepted for the excuse of engagement while he drank it. For about ten minutes they'd talked. About how relaxing it was to have some time off, although she had said that she appreciated his company during other otherwise alone time, saying this with a smile and a deliberate flash of her eyes. Subtle, but it was there. Nelson had glanced at her figure, enough to be noticed but not an ogling. Finally, he had said he needed to be getting on.

"Can't ever stay long?" Mia had said with a mock frown. Nelson had just smiled and told her exceptions could always be made.

"I'll be waiting," she had replied.

Mia, of course, was simply very friendly. And perhaps innocently flirtatious. But Nelson didn't think so. Today he was ready for all eventualities.

The mailbox was by the door, but Nelson knocked anyway. Mia was there in a moment. Broad smile. The shorts. A t-shirt that was a bit tight.

"Is this all you have for me today?" she said, taking the mail.

"Is there anything else you'd like?" he responded.

She grinned.

"Come on in. I'm just working on the porch."

Nelson was getting hard. He followed her. The view was magnificent, and he thought to himself that there was a little more sway to her ass than would be natural, but he couldn't be certain. If it was intentional, she was good.

The three-season porch overlooked the backyard through a wall of windows, but trees provided privacy from the neighbors. There were planting pots and bags of soil, but everything was tidy. Mia turned and hopped up on the table, her feet dangling above the floor. Her legs were parted slightly, her hands on the edge of the table. She looked at him and smiled.

"I was just about to get dirty," she said.

"I'd like to see that," Nelson responded.

Mia lowered her eyes and looked conspicuously at the front of his postal shorts.

"Looks like I'm not the only one."

It was clear enough. Nelson moved forward to the table such that Mia had to part her legs even more to accommodate him. He leaned in to give her a kiss, and she tilted her head to receive it. His hand moved to her breast, felt through the shirt. Clearly she wasn't wearing a bra, and he felt her nipple go erect through the fabric. Then Mia scooted forward just a couple of inches until they were touching below the waist. His erect cock pressed, through their mutual shorts, against her pussy. Their kiss became more intense, then slowly their lips parted.

Nelson took a step back, but his eyes never left Mia's. Without leaving the table, she slipped out of her shorts. No panties, either. He could discern a full bush even without diverting his gaze. Again like Suzanne, he thought. Then he lowered his shorts. Nelson felt his cock pop out, now freed and erect. Mia raised her eyebrows.

"Oh my," she said, a reaction that was obviously both genuine and for effect.

Nelson had a big dick. Nearly eight and a half inches. The real size, not in the inflated world where everyone was packing at least eight. Its girth was proportionate. Not the largest male member in the world, but he knew that he was in the select few. He also knew that, physically, it did not matter much. But at the same time, there were intangible elements to being a member of the one percent. A lover had once described it as a unique experience, mostly psychological. Another had told him that it was flattering having a man with such at attribute focusing on her. It certainly did not hurt his confidence. Nor did the fact that he was tall and in excellent shape for a man of any age. Though he'd mostly spent his military career behind a desk, he'd been serious about physical training. Nelson had not the look of a gym rat but rather that of a man who ran every morning and ate well. This was running through his mind as he took off his shirt. Mia watched him as she pulled off her shirt. Lovely tits.

Nelson closed the distance between them, leaning into to kiss her as she herself leaned into it. His cock touched the inside of her thigh and twitched and he felt her involuntary reaction. He put his hands on her waist and slowly moved them up her sides while kissing her deeply. Without using his hands he maneuvered his cock so that it was against her, the shaft along the wet and receptive cleft between her legs. He moved, sliding the hard dick against the warm wetness. Mia kissed him more intensely now. He was thinking of Suzanne. Then, still kissing her, he moved such that the head of his cock was poised to enter her, and slowly he moved forward. As he filled her, she raised her legs into the hair and lowered herself to the table.

"Jesus," she whispered, her voice thick with both pleasure and the desire for more.

Now Nelson took her ankles in his hands, looking down to watch several times as his dick slowly disappeared between the ample pussy lips that eagerly took it in. She moaned, not an effect but a natural expression of pleasure that came from deep within, and he understood that the table was just the right height. He looked up to see her looking intensely at him and he began to firmly fuck her.

"You like fucking this married pussy, don't you?" Mia hissed with an expression of ecstasy on her face. Nelson just grinned and worked his cock in and out of that married pussy.

"Fuck," she moaned, and there was no doubt that she'd be first.

He did fuck her. Nelson fucked her deep and hard, holding her legs high, watching her. Her body heaved and soon was doing so in conjunction with his thrusts, and she looked up at him in momentary wonder, her mask suddenly slipped.

"Oh God, Nelson... yes!" she cried out as her legs spasmed.

He could have paced himself until she had finished but he was ready and wanted to begin even as Mia was in her own climax. With several more deep, deliberate thrusts he did, moaning himself at the moment that he began to fill her with his cum. She squealed with delight at this, which he knew must be an uncharacteristic display for her, and it compelled him to lean forward and kiss her again and he pumped and pumped into her. She was still quivering when he had spent himself.

Letting their lips fall away, Nelson spoke. "I love your married pussy, Mia," he said with an expression somewhere between gravity and mirth.

With that, another hard spasm came from her, then several more gradually diminishing ones. Indefinable time then passed. When he pulled out, Nelson was surprised to see her reach over and take one of two white towels and hand it to him. She had prepared. He used it as she watched, then himself observed her as she used the other in a way that was marvelously dignified. Mutually comported, they came face to face again.

"This wasn't your first time," Mia noted.

"You could tell I wasn't a virgin, could you?" he deadpanned, and she grinned and playfully slapped him on the arm.

"I'm not the first woman you've had sex with while working," she said.

Nelson smiled but said nothing.

"I don't think this was your first time," he countered.

"No, you're the first mailman I've fucked."

He laughed.

"But not your first man on the side."

Now it was Mia who had nothing but a smile.

Suzanne looked at Nelson.

"Who?"

Nelson told her. There was a long pause.

"Where did you... finish?"

"In her pussy."

She took a drink of wine, saying nothing. He observed the emotions in her face. Suzanne was a strong and principled woman. Even as it was happening, he knew it had been a marvel to her that she had developed a relationship with a military man. But Nelson was intelligent and charming and principled himself. He also respected her. They had been dating for a few months when he announced to her one Saturday evening that he would likely be having sex with one of his customers the following week. Something in his demeanor had deflected her instinctual outrage. Questions followed, then explanations. The date had ended in a non-committal fashion on her part. He had called her that Wednesday after work and Suzanne had agreed to go out to dinner. During the meal, he told her about the sexual encounter. He was very matter of fact. She later admitted to being very conflicted, but he could already see that. Yet the arousal she felt had astonished her. It was the first night Nelson ever fucked Suzanne in the ass.

They finished their meal, quietly talking, and then they went to her home. Nelson took her into the bedroom, where he came up to her from behind and pressed against her and took her in his arms. He held her tits through her clothes and made sure she could feel his dick, hard and through their clothes nestled within the cleft of her ass.

"I thought of you when my cock was inside of her," she whispered into her ear.

She moaned, yet within her body he felt a conflict. Visceral arousal against the principled intellect. It seemed to Nelson that arousal held the upper hand. He put her on the bed on her hands and knees and undressed behind her. Then he lowered her pants and her panties and penetrated her. She preferred being face to face. It was intimate, she said. There was something about having him behind her, staring at her ass, fucking her as she looked away, that she found tawdry. It smacked of dominance on his part. She had confided this to him. But she had also confided that while she disliked it for this reason, for the same reason it aroused her.

"You make me want things that I don't like," Suzanne had once said to him.

Nelson fucked her. He fucked her casually. He slapped her ass, and as he did she stiffened but was unable to suppress another moan. Again, conflict.

"Don't move," he said, almost a command. Then Nelson withdrew from her and went and took two objects from the pockets of his cast-aside jeans. Then he penetrated her again. One of the objects he held in front of Suzanne so she could see it, a slender blue metal dildo. The other object he took and flipped open its cap and squeezed it so that oil came out as he held it over her asshole. Her body stiffened again. He placed the blue metal penis against her tight hole and slowly began working it. There was alarm in her physical presence, but Suzanne said nothing. In time, he worked it into her. Into her ass. Her body was slow in accepting it, but it did. All the while, he slowly fucked her. Eventually, she relaxed. Her asshole no longer tightly gripped the blue dildo. It had adjusted to what was inside of it. Nelson knew her body was ready.

He took his cock from her pussy and applied oil to it. Then he removed the blue dildo, and immediately pressed his dick against Suzanne's receptive asshole.

"Oh, God," she moaned as he slowly worked his large dick into her ass. Astonishment mingled with alarm in her voice. It took several minutes, but then he was balls-deep in Suzanne's ass.

Nelson thought there were four kinds of women when it came to anal sex. First, there were those who had no interest and refused to partake. He respected this. Then there were those who did not like it but participated to please their partners. For this, Nelson had no respect. There were also those who enjoyed anal sex and so indulged, a perfectly understandable position. Finally, there were those women who objected to anal sex. It did not pleasure these women in a conventional sense. In part, it left them mystified that they should like it, but like it they did. It humiliated them, and they found that some part of them desired humiliated. They thought of it as somewhat degrading, and to their utter surprise they discovered that there was an element to degradation that fascinated their sexual psyches.

Nelson looked down at his dick, buried in Suzanne's ass. He could feel in her response that she was of the latter type. He had suspected as much even at first, though on some level it surprised him. It had left her speechless, but her body told him not to stop. 'Fuck my ass,' her body always said, to what he knew to be her own great surprise. So Nelson fucked her ass.

"Her name is Mia," he said almost conversationally as his large dick slid in and out of the tight asshole. Suzanne's body quivered in response.

"She's married," he continued, knowing what his words were doing to her. He told Suzanne about Mia's long legs and her full bush, adding that it reminded him of hers. Then about fucking on Mia's porch, about those legs wrapped around him. He described in detail the filling of the other woman with his cum. It was then, as he had known, that Suzanne's climax came over her, then that that tight ass got indescribably tighter and the moaning lost control and her body spasmed. It was also then that Nelson let his own orgasm happen, and her put all that he had into Suzanne's ass with over twenty loving thrusts.

She went flat on the bed, Nelson with her, his semi-hard dick still in her ass.

"Are you going to fuck her again?" she asked him. He knew she was conflicted. She wanted this to be the only time, that she would be the one he returned to over and over. At the same time, he knew that she was very turned on by the knowledge of what he did.

"I don't know," he told her honestly, "but I suspect not."

They lay together for a long time, his dick recovering, getting hard again in her ass like a warm living butt-plug. They spoke quietly in that state. Then they disengaged and showered together and talked some more by candlelight at the kitchen table, this time about things ordinary that made up their everyday lives.

In general, Nelson did not seek out these experiences, which is to say he did not decide that it was time to have sex on his job. He was attractive and understood that he interacted well with both men and women. On the job he was particularly engaging, both professionally and because he liked personal connections. Sometimes, it was a woman who took the initiative. But usually, it was he. He had become very adept at flirtation and opening the door to a woman's interest, yet in a non-committal manner.

He had not always been this way. Nelson's high school experience had consisted of a single sexual encounter. His time at West Point had been so busy that he'd only had a pair of summer relationships, necessarily limited due to the ongoing demands of his enrollment even between academic years. And then as a commissioned officer his profession and regular restationing had limited his relationships. He had preferred connections that would persist for the several months, perhaps even a year or more, before he got orders sending him across the country or overseas. Then he'd resigned his commission and settled down.

And it had begun.

As he had surmised, he never had sex with Mia again. They often had warm discussions when he delivered her mail, and there was a lingering sexual tension that he enjoyed. So did she, he could see. It was probably for the best. While he wouldn't have minded a reprise, perhaps even something regular, it was unlikely to ever be as good as what would then have been their first time. Sometimes you can tell. Nelson admired Mia's judgment.

It was only a month after that encounter on the porch that he developed a rapport with another woman on his route. Another connection with possibilities.

Her name was Abby, and she lived in a large apartment block off downtown that had just gone up a couple years previously. They had never met. One day, he had a parcel too big for the mailbox that needed to be left at her door, so he took the elevator to the third floor, found number 211, and rapped on the door before turning to leave. He hadn't even taken a step before it opened. There was Abby, wearing a formal blue dress.

"Oh!" she said, surprised. "I thought you were someone else."

Nelson was looking at her in the dress. She was amazing. He made sure she could see this in his expression. She blushed.

"I'm a bridesmaid in a wedding next month," she explained. "I just got it yesterday and I'm trying it on. I thought you were my friend, coming over to give me her thoughts."

Nelson looked down at her exposed calves. Her feet in blue heels. He looked up at her decolletage.

"Wow," he said, smiling.

Abby blushed again. She was smiling, too.

And then the elevator pinged down the hall and it was her friend arriving. Nelson said goodbye and took his leave.

For the rest of the day, Abby was on his mind. She was tall and blonde, long-legged and very pretty. Her eyes were striking and her mouth large, alluring. Maybe twenty-five years old, he guessed. She was also getting married, although not until October; he had delivered many returning save-the-date postcards. Her in that dress, her lovely smile, her engagement, her arresting look. She had his attention. He laughed silently to himself, knowing that she certainly was not looking for it. Still.