The Mailman

Since I work in the evening, I am often home during the daytime pounding away – at my keyboard – trying to become the next great … wait, who is a widely known gay erotic fiction writer? Being home during the day often means I see the mailman from my window as he makes his way up the path.

Several weeks ago he rang the bell. He had a package for my roommate. So for the first time, I met him face to face rather than just a wave through a window if he happened to glance in as he placed the mail in through the door slot.

Up close, Mr. Mailman is much more interesting than I gave him credit for. He looks to be in his early 40s, shaved head, about 6’2″. He’s got the mustache/goatee thing going on, but it looks more like he just doesn’t shave that close. When he wears shorts, I can see his calves and they are rockin’! He also has a deep voice and large hands. He’s the type of guy I would bet was in the military just by the way he carries himself.

As I was signing for my roomie’s package, I was very aware of the mailman’s eyes. I could feel them moving up and down my body like they were trying to memorize every inch of me. He asked me a few casual questions including, how long had I lived in the city, do I like the neighborhood. He told me his name was Dave as he shook my hand, holding it just that fraction of a second too long – just enough to imply something more if I were gay, but not enough to tip off a straight guy that he was being hit on.

The feel of his hand in mine, soft to the touch but still strong and firm, made my dick stir. But with a polite ”thank you” and a “nice to meet you”, we parted ways. I hurried to the window to watch him walking away, and, yes, because I wanted to see his ass. As he reached the end of the small path, he turned and looked directly back at me, locking eyes and smiling that smile someone gives you when they know they caught you staring and they like it. Then he was gone.

The next few days, whenever I looked up from my computer to see him striding up the drive, I made a point of meeting him at the door to take the mail. Each time we would spend a few minutes exchanging small talk, all the while eye-fucking each other like mad. Each time I glanced downward, I could see the outline of his cock practically pulsating through his gray shorts.

Over that weekend, I thought about him a lot. If I looked up from the computer screen to see someone passing by outside, my heart would beat slightly faster and I would feel that slight tingle that runs through your body when you see someone you’re really attracted to … but it was a Sunday, so no mail and – well, no male.

Monday afternoon finds me wasting more time on Facebook than actually writing. It’s just after 1:00 when I look up and see Dave coming up the path. He looks through the window and smiles at me, giving me a nod. I race a little too eagerly to the door and open it by the time he makes the top step.

“Hey,” I say nonchalantly as he hands me the mail.

“Hey there.” He immediately begins eye-fucking me. “So, what do you do that you’re always home?”

“Oh, I’m a writer. Well, by day. By night, waiter.”

“Very cool. What do you write?”

“Um … fiction stories right now.”

“Like suspense stuff?”

“More like – adult stuff.”

“Porn?”

“Well, erotica – but yeah.”

“Man, I could tell you some stories workin’ this job.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Oh, man, always gettin’ hit on. Guys, chicks. Housewives.”

“Ya ever do it?”

He hesitated for a moment, looking me over as if sizing me up.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“With guys?” I asked carefully.

“Yeah.” His smile was still there, but now it was almost a sneer. I could feel his sexual energy reaching out to me, pulling me in, and I finally gave in to it. I looked down to his crotch, his cock so hard and he was obviously going commando as I could see the outline of it pressing down his leg. I took a risk and moved my hand out towards him. He didn’t back away; in fact, he took a step closer. My hand encircled his cock through the leg of his shorts and I gave it a squeeze. He made a soft noise pushing his crotch hard against my hand, and then everything began moving in fast forward.

He glanced around, making sure no one was able to see me copping a feel of his bulge, then unzipped his fly and hauled out a thickly veined uncut cock, dripping precum like crazy. I took hold of it immediately and began jerking him off.

“Oh, yeah,” he kept saying between heavy breaths and whimpers of pleasure. He grabbed the doorjamb with one hand and the doorknob with the other, steadying himself as his hips pushed his cock forward into my hand. His precum coated my hand as I tightened my grip. As I stroked, his foreskin worked back exposing a beautifully shaped pink head. I moved my hand up to the exposed flesh and still stroking, moved my precum covered hand in a circular motion. He let out several long, guttural moans and pumped his hips forward several times. He was coming.

His load shot out over the distance between us, landing on my arm, my pants and the floor behind me. Even then, I didn’t want to let go of his cock: I was sex drunk.

Without putting his dripping cock back in his shorts, he stepped inside the door, pushing me back several steps. Without hesitation, he went down to his knees in front of me. His hands were shaking slightly as he opened my pants and exposed my cock and balls. As soon as they were out of the zipper, they were into his mouth. It was like a vacuum hose; his suction was incredible. His face planted firmly against my groin. He had my dick deep in his throat and held it there a good ten seconds before coming up for air and impaling himself right back on my shaft.

Then it became a frenzied face fuck. I was slamming my prick down his throat as hard and fast as he was pushing his head forward to meet my thrusts. I was practically bent in two over him, my hands clinging to the back of his shaved head, both to steady myself as well as pull him down farther on my rock hard dick.

I was panting and whining like a dog in heat; all I could focus on was how fucking amazing his mouth felt and how hot the situation was. My mailman was on his knees blowing like a madman, not to mention it was one of the best blowjobs I had ever received.

I tried to hold back, but it was all too much. After just a few minutes of him bobbing on my knob like a pro, my entire body started to tremble. “I’m gonna blow,” I panted as the first blast of my cum flooded his mouth. He rammed his face into my crotch, his hands on my ass holding me tightly against him. I jerked and spasmed, my cockhead deep in his throat, pouring my cum into him. As he held himself there, he moved one of his hands down to his cock and within a few seconds brought himself to a second orgasm.

As soon as he was sure he had drained my balls of their treasure, he stood, putting his cock in his shorts and zipping up, straightening his shirt and with a quick nod, picked up his mailbag and was out the door.

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