Tentacles For Megan Pt. 02

Megan sat at her desk. It was Friday. Three days since she had told the card that she was ready to meet her mysterious benefactor. Three days in which the tentacles had made no appearance. She caught herself wondering if she was ever going to encounter them again. She hoped to, but pleading to the card was her only method of getting them to appear, and that wasn't working for the time being. She was on her own.

She had a strict policy of not masturbating at work, but she was hard pressed to abide by it this afternoon. Her nipples were hard, and her breasts were aching to be touched, squeezed, fondled, sucked. Her vulva was hot, tingly, and wet. She longed for something to mash her clit on, something stiff and hard to impale her, give her what she so desperately needed.

The point to her rule was that she reasoned that if she could masturbate at work, she would never get anything done. Of course, she wasn't getting anything done at the moment, beside herself as she was. As she looked unseeing at some report, her hand moved to her thigh and began rubbing absently. It felt good. With a sigh that was equal parts resignation and anticipation, she let the report fall to her desk and began moving her hands over herself, her thighs, her belly, her aching breasts.

There was a knock on her door just at that moment. Quickly she assumed a neutral pose. "Enter," she said, being careful to keep her voice casual and bored. The door opened, and the mailboy came in. He was such an attractive mailboy, she mused as he approached her desk. If he noticed her regarding him, he showed no sign of it. He simply set the small stack of papers and envelopes in her inbox. Then their eyes met.

Megan had the uncanny sense that he knew what she had been about to do when he knocked, and also that he knew what she would be doing as soon as he left. But she knew that was impossible. The mailboy smiled in what could be interpreted as a friendly manner. But there was a glint in it that made Megan slightly unsettled. Was her face flushed or something? She didn't suppose it mattered. She returned the smile and the mailboy turned away. Megan made it a point, as usual, to linger on his remarkable ass. It was truly a better ass than a common mailboy had any business possessing. She watched him as he walked across the room to the door, and then she glanced at her mail. On top was one of the envelopes with which she was now intimately familiar.

The mailboy was closing the door behind him. "Stop!" she called out. The door stopped and then the mailboy stuck his head around the door.

"Can I help you?" he said in a blank businesslike tone. Though not unfriendly.

"I hope so," said Megan. She picked up the envelope and showed it to him. "Do you know where this envelope came from? I believe it originated in the building; there's no postmark."

The mailboy walked over to her desk again, leaving the door ajar. "May I see it?" he said. "I don't keep tabs on all the mail, but I may be able to remember where I picked it up." Now he was standing next to her. He smelled really good, she noticed, and the ache and heat in her breasts intensified incrementally. Without speaking, she handed him the card.

He examined the front for a few moments, then checked the back. He handed the card back to her. "I don't see any distinguishing marks. Maybe there's a clue inside."

Megan took the card and set it down on her desk. "I'm not going to open it right now," she said flatly.

The mailboy shrugged. "Let me know if you need anything else," he said, on his way to the door. Something in his tone caught her attention. Was he flirting with her? She watched his ass as he went to the door and walked through it, closing it behind him. She admitted to herself that she kind of hoped he was flirting with her. He was beneath her, of course. But that ass.

She picked up the card and ripped it open. As she was doing so, a movement across the room caught her attention. She looked, and saw a pencil-thin tentacle locking her office door. Her sex convulsed and her breath quickened. A moment later, they came for her. What seemed like hundreds of them, all as thin and fine as the one at the door, surrounded her. They slowly moved in and began touching her -- on her hands, her face, her scalp, the back of her neck, her feet, her ankles. It was sensually luxurious, and she practically purred. Then they were insinuating themselves into her clothing. Down her back, down her front, into her bra, around her ankles and up her legs until they reached her panties and wriggled their way under the elastic. When they encountered her stickiness, they became much more animated, lifting her up and whisking away her clothing with remarkable speed.

But then they stopped. She hung in the air, supported comfortably by scores of slender tentacles, but the rest withdrew from her erogenous zones. For a few moments there was no movement, and she said, "Please, give it to me." Then a few tentacles wrapped around her mouth, gagging her. Megan took this as a good sign; clearly they were going to make her scream. She did not expect what happened next.

As if by some hidden signal, dozens of the tentacles that were not holding her up descended upon her and began, not to titillate, but to tickle her. Scalp, neck, armpits, ass, thighs, knees (front and behind), ankles, feet, and all points between. Megan laughed and screamed and laughed and screamed and thrashed about like a mad woman, but there was no escape from the tentacles. Their touch was maddening, but at the same time arousing. The finger-sized tentacles nipped, pinched and gouged her expertly. Eventually she lost the ability to breathe, and the situation took on a prickle of fear, but the tentacles subsided at that point. The release was incredible.

And then they began to massage her as she caught her breath. Soon, sensual pleasure was flowing over all her limbs and body. But then they began tickling her again, although not her whole body at once. There would be sudden activity on her feet, or behind her knees, or her ass, or her armpits, or her neck, but only for a moment. Enough to make her shriek and jump and laugh. Her arousal was building steadily. She was enjoying herself immensely, and with each smooth caress or sudden tweak, she felt herself getting wetter and wetter. Finally she spread her legs and thrust out her vulva as far as she could and spoke into the gag. "Oh god, please fuck me!"

Immediately, a dozen or so of the slender tentacles twisted together like a makeshift cock and without ceremony pushed into her. She was so wet there was absolutely no resistance. She sighed and closed her eyes as the tentacles inside her began to pump her steadily. It was so very good. Within a minute or so, she was coming noisily behind the gag. The tentacles continued to shaft her vigorously, and she came again a minute later.

Then she felt the tentacles unravel, and they began to writhe and wriggle inside her like the hairs of the Medusa. It was a novel sensation and quite mind-blowing. She came again.

But something was missing. "My nipples," she pleaded. Instantly a group of the slender tentacles was at each breast, and began playing her nipples expertly. Then there were tentacles on her clit, bringing her pleasure to new heights. And then they started tickling her again. Megan's brain fell out. She went into a continuous climax that lasted minutes, during which she was laughing and shrieking her fool head off.

Eventually the tentacles seemed to sense that she'd had enough, and they subsided back to a gentle yet firm massage over her whole body. The gag fell away, and the tentacles stroked her face gently. Megan stretched like a cat. She felt wonderful.

After a while, the tentacles lowered her and eased her back into her office chair. The leather was cool on her naked ass and back. Then the tentacles withdrew. She didn't notice or care where they went. They just seemed to go away. Which was fine with her. They had just brought her incredible sexual release; they could do whatever they wanted.

After a few moments alone, she remembered the card on her desk. She picked it up and examined it. "We will meet," said the front. Excitedly she opened the card and read,

Tonight, at the Rainmaker coffee shop. 6:00 pm. Don't worry if you can't make it. We can always set up another meeting. Tell the card if you will be there.

I hope you enjoyed today's exercise. I thought you could use something a little different. Hope to see you tonight.

Megan smiled and told the card, "I'll be there." Then she went to refresh herself in her bathroom and got dressed. She looked at the clock. It was 3:31. The Rainmaker was near her office, so she sat down to work until she had to leave. She was giddy with excitement.

The Rainmaker was your typical coffee shop with idiosyncratic decor. Megan went there regularly, though not every day, in the mornings before work. They had coffee and stuff. When she got there, there weren't very many people there, so it was easy to find a good place to sit. She selected an out-of-the-way corner and settled down with a latte and an almond scone. It was 5:52.

At 6:12 she had all but given up. She had been amusing herself on her phone, but she had to admit that whoever it was wasn't showing up. She bent and dropped her phone in her purse and picked it up. When she straightened again, intending to stand up, there was a man seated at her table. She gave a little shriek, and then she recognized him: it was the mailboy.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"What are you doing here?" Megan was in no mood to deal with any nonsense. She was sorely disappointed that her meeting hadn't worked out, and she didn't feel like putting on her work face for this peon, attractive though he was.

"I was meeting someone here after work," said the mailboy. "But I got stuck at the office doing stupid crap. I hope I haven't missed her."

Megan softened and said in a more civil tone, "I'm sorry I snapped at you. But you startled me. What time were you supposed to meet?"

"6:00."

"Funny," she said, "that's when I was supposed to meet my, er, friend too."

"That _is_ funny," said the mailboy.

His tone gave her pause. He seemed almost mocking. Her eyes narrowed, then widened. "No," she said.

"Yes," he replied, cracking a grin. "I'm sorry I was late."

"But that's impossible," Megan sputtered. "You?"

"Me," he confirmed. "And I don't see why it's impossible. A tad improbable, maybe."

"You're telling me," snapped Megan. "You expect me to believe you control those... things?"

The mailboy put a finger to his lips, cautioning Megan to lower her voice. "'Control' is not the right word," he said quietly. "They are my friends. I just make requests. Sometimes, those requests are granted. Sometimes not. This much you have learned for yourself."

Megan crossed her arms and regarded the mailboy through narrowed eyes.

The mailboy sighed. "Look, I know this is a lot to take on board. I'm afraid there's only one way to convince you that what I say is true."

"And what is -- " Megan started but then gasped. There was a tentacle moving up her pant leg! Her eyes got big. "No," she hissed. "Not here. Are you insane?"

"I don't control them," said the Mailboy. "If it makes you feel any better, there's one going up my pant leg too."

Megan clutched at her thigh, attempting to deny passage to the visitor. But it simply stopped and began nibbling her inner thigh, which was really arousing. It knew just how she liked it. "Please," she almost sobbed. "Not in the Rainmaker. I'm a regular here!" The tentacle stopped nibbling. There was a pause. Then, to her immense relief, it began to withdraw. She relaxed her grip on her thigh and glanced at the mailboy. His eyes were rolling back in his head; he closed his eyes and shuddered perceptibly. "What's going on?" she demanded.

"Prostate," mumbled the mailboy through clenched teeth.

"Look, this is ridiculous. I believe you, alright? Can't we go someplace private and talk?"

After a moment, the mailboy appeared to relax. "Apparently I'm off the hook," he said after composing himself. "That's really impressive that you managed to call them off. They must really like you. So where do you wanna go?"

Megan was a little shaky. She shrugged. "I don't know." She considered a moment. Then she said, "We could go to my place."

"I would be honored," said the mailboy. "How do we get there?"

"Do you have a car?"

He snorted. "No. Public transit for this mailboy."

"Well, I've got one," said Megan, getting up. "Come on."

* * *

Megan handed the mailboy a steaming mug of coffee. They were standing in her kitchen. As he sipped from it, she said, "You got a name, mailboy?"

"Yes, unfortunately," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Unfortunately? What is it then?"

"Vance," he replied.

"For real?" she said, her eyebrows going up slightly. He nodded. She thought for a moment. Then she said, "Is it okay if I call you Mailboy?"

"I think that would be preferable," he chuckled. "And I'll call you Bosslady."

Megan laughed. "It's a deal," she said.

Mailboy's Story:

I was almost finished with my MBA a few years ago, when out of nowhere, the card came to me in the mail. To this day I have no idea where it came from. But in any event, the card came, and they came shortly after, and I came shortly after that. You know how it goes. Anyway, finding ultimate sexual fulfillment caused me to reevaluate my life. I dropped out of the MBA program and got a job that I wouldn't ever have to take home with me, that paid enough for a modest living. Mailboy seemed like a good choice. And that's how I met you. I was instantly attracted to you, but you always seemed kinda pent-up. So I got a card from our mutual friends and sent it to you.

"How did you get my address?" Megan asked.

"I'm a mailboy. Do the math," he said. But he was smiling when he said it. Megan smiled too. They were seated at opposite ends of the couch.

"MBA, huh? I thought you talked a little fancy for a mailboy." She took a sip from her coffee. She found herself really enjoying his company.

"Yeah, so let's fuck," said the mailboy.

Megan choked on her coffee. Her eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?" She appeared scandalized.

The mailboy smiled. "Don't be like that. I've seen you looking at me."

"Shit," she said. "That means other people have seen it too."

He shook his head. "I doubt it. You've always been very discrete. I only noticed because I was checking you out too. But no, come on, Bosslady. Let's do it. You're the most captivating, beautiful woman I've ever met, and I brought the tentacles into your life. Surely that should earn me at least one session. Give me a chance." He gave her a rakish half-smile and leaned towards her.

Megan looked at the mailboy. Fascinating, deep-set brown eyes looked back at her, unabashed and unafraid. An aristocratic nose over sensual lips. Light stubble. His brown hair was slightly mussed, and he had long ago discarded his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his crisp white dress shirt. A bit of chest hair peeped from behind his undershirt. She glanced down at his hands. They were strong and clean, his nails neatly trimmed. She stole a glance at his crotch, and found an intriguing bulge there. And she knew he had that ass, even though she couldn't see it at the moment. There was no getting around the fact that he was a beautiful man.

She picked up her coffee mug again. The coffee had cooled considerably by this point, and she drained it, set it back on the coffee table, and leaned back. She grinned, dazzling him. "Yeah, alright," she said. "Come here and fuck me, Mailboy."

The mailboy leaned in. She could feel his warmth as he got closer. He smelled good. Then their mouths were touching. The kiss took them both by surprise. There was electricity between them; sparks were flying. Within seconds their tongues were entwined. The mailboy wrapped his arms around and held her tightly as their mouths worked together to create something beautiful. After several minutes of the most intense kissing of either of their lives, they drew apart, both out of breath. "Jesus Christ!" gasped Megan. The mailboy laughed. "Goddamn," he agreed. Their eyes locked. Smiling together, they moved in again.

Megan would have liked her first sex with a human man to be more thoughtful and exploratory, but there was something to be said for the quick and dirty. Particularly when their needs were so great. There would be time for thoughtful exploration later. The removal of the clothing was effortless and inevitable. They tore at each other like wolves. When he entered her, there was no resistance; her pussy was sopping and he went in to the hilt in one thrust. They both cried out in unison. Then they were fucking like crazed weasels in heat. When they fell off the couch, they maintained their connection and didn't slow down. He bit her neck as he plunged within her. Megan dug her nails into his back, clutching him to herself to be sure that he stayed right there.

At that pace, they couldn't last long. Megan came first, and was still coming a minute or so later when the mailboy exploded inside her. They rocked together a few minutes more, and then as if by some signal, they relaxed. He stayed inside.

They panted together in silence for a half-minute. Then he said, "Listen --" but he was interrupted when Megan burst into tears.

"I'm okay, it's fine," she stammered between sobs. "I just --"

He drew her into his arms and held her tight, whispering, "Shh, I gotcha." She shook for a bit longer, and then subsided.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be. Perfectly natural emotional response. That was pretty fucking intense."

"Yeah, it was. What did you want me to listen to?"

"Oh, I just wanted to tell you that I had a vasectomy, so you don't need to worry about getting pregnant."

"Shit," she said, "I wasn't even thinking about that. Stupid Megan."

"For a minute I was worried that's why you were crying. I planned to tell you before, but it went too fast. That was incredible. You're a goddess." She gave him a look. "Sorry, I don't know why I said that," he said, grinning.

"I thought you were incredible, too," she said, smiling. "But I think we should disengage." They both gasped as they separated. The sensation nicely punctuated their coupling. They sat up and sat next to each other with their backs against the couch they had fallen off of, dripping onto the carpet. She assured him that cleaning the carpet would not be a problem.

"That was a good idea, you had, Mailboy," said Megan. "Fucking, I mean."

"Yeah. And we're gonna do it again here, aren't we?" He was staring at her breasts.

She smiled. "In a while. I want a shower first. You wanna shower with me?"

"Did you really just ask me that?"

The shower afforded Megan the thoughtful exploration she was craving. They cleaned each other quite meticulously, getting to know each other's various naughty bits, and everything in between. She insisted that there be no coming in the shower. "Save it for the bedroom," she said, and he didn't object. They both came very close to coming at more than one point, but with each other's assistance, held themselves to the no orgasm rule.

"That was awesome," he said as they were drying off.

"Indeed. I don't think my tits have ever been cleaner."

He laughed. "Or my ass."

Megan grew serious. "I want to say something to you," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "Shoot."

"You have the most beautiful ass I have ever seen."

He laughed again. "I don't know what I was expecting you to say, but it wasn't that."

She took a step towards him. "Turn around and bend over."

He did as she asked, placing his hands on the edge of the tub. He was about to say something but she shushed him.