Postal Pleasures

"I've called you a bastard, I told you I don't like you, and you still defended my honor.

"Sticks and stones, right, and if that's your summation, I offer no rebuttal."

"What kind of man are you?"

"A good, man, for the most part, I hope. I was wrong to do what I did to you. I had no right. I have no excuses, and I apologize. I ask for your forgiveness."

"What will happen when our agreement is over?"

"You told me you'd never give me the time of day. Forget our agreement. Tear it up or burn it. Consider it void by mutual consent."

"I'm referring to you know what?"

"Put that out of your mind. I burned it in a brush pile soaked in diesel fuel and buried the ashes. I deleted everything from my tablet and laptop."

"When did you do this?"

"I did it New Year's Day after you left."

"My final summation, Mr. Stone. Right from the beginning, you had no intention of turning me in. I worried for nothing. It was all a distraction and bluff to get me to go out with you. Why didn't you ask me out?"

"Yes, that precisely sums it up. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask you before I found the bags. I should have just asked you out and not taken no for an answer. I can be very persistent. You don't know it yet, but you will like me given a chance. Did I tell how lovely you look today?"

"Why are you telling me about the bags, and all of this now? I can now walk away."

"I'm hoping you won't. I am hoping you will forgive me and will give me a chance to make it up to you."

"Do you remember when you said to me, "I have you dead to rights, Mary, and I'm not interested in reasons or excuses?" she asked.

"Yes, I didn't want to know the reason in the beginning, because I got what I wanted. I figured it most of it out while you slept in."

"I don't understand, how?"

"After you left, I looked carefully at the postmarks. The dates coincide with the time Joe returned to work after his injury and then retired six months later. He was in constant pain and needed to lighten his mailbags to finish his route.

When you took over, you delivered all of your mail, including junk mail. I hate junk mail. Perhaps you noticed the paper shredder by the front door. You are a good and loyal friend. Joe's, Ann's, and your secret are buried and forgotten."

"It is not forgotten, but I'll say this for you, Mr. Stone, you've been bluntly honest with me, and I don't doubt your veracity," Mary paid for our coffee and left. I ordered a piece of apple pie with a wedge of sharp cheddar cheese on the side and had another cup of coffee. I sat there thinking about what she told me, and second guessing myself.

On Saturday, the forecast called for more snow and sub-zero temperatures. I didn't hear from Mary. I assumed it was over between us. I was puttering in my barn the following Sunday afternoon when I heard a familiar voice call out, "Hey, Stone are you in there?"

"Yeah, Joe," I called back, "Come on in."

"You and I need to talk," Joe said walking in and glancing near the door, picked up my pickaxe." The words OH, SHIT!" came to mind.

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked, steeling myself for a fight and hoping to talk him out of it. Mary will never forgive me if I hurt Joe, and I had no intention of giving up on her. I had fallen for her in a big way.

"What the hell kind of man are you?" he asked.

"Calm down, Joe, and let me explain."

"Calm down my ass. I'm here to set things right. Do you have any idea how upset Mary is?" She's been crying all morning. Ann is with her now trying to console her. You screwed up big time! What's the matter with you?"

"What do you mean by setting things straight? Put the pickaxe down."

Joe let the handle slide through his hand until the blade rested on the floor and said, "I'm going to need this." He tapped it on my new concrete floor."

"What are you talking about, Joe?"

"I'm talking about you and Mary. I thought you cared for her. My nephew got what he deserved. I don't know what you said or did to him. It doesn't matter. I have eyes, and he had it coming. That's what got me to thinking about you, and thinking hard. I know you from somewhere. It was a long time ago. You had long hair and a beard then. You don't remember me, do you?"

"No, I honestly don't."

"You were a bouncer at the Old Lamp Light Tavern."

"I was, yes" I answered suspiciously, "did I do something to you?"

"You sure as hell did. You saved my keister when those pool sharks hustled me, and I couldn't pay them Johnny-on-the-spot. You convinced them to wait for my sister to bring the money."

"You were that fish, Joe?" I started laughing, "The Morgan brothers hooked you for four-hundred if I remember correctly."

"It was four, and when Cindy showed with the money, they blocked the door and wanted eight-hundred unless I threw her in as interest. You walked over and said to me, "Give me the money, stupid," and you put the money in your pocket. You said to them, "The young Lady leaves now, and you get your money. Otherwise, the young Lady still leaves now, you fight me and stupid, and you get nothing, except being banned from here. What happened after we left?"

"I gave them three-hundred and put the other hundred on the bar. I whistled through my fingers and announced, "The Morgan brothers are buying three rounds of drinks, and the fourth round is on the house. What could they say or do about it? They saved face and made a joke about it. I made them popular for a change. It was good for business, and good public relations for me. You need to tell me why Mary is crying."

Joe became quiet and serious. He looked down and then up at me and said, "I should have known. Mary never told you that her dog, Missy was dying yesterday, and passed this morning. She wants to bury Missy under the elm tree in the backyard. A wise man doesn't argue with a Lady he loves about such things; he finds a way. I need the pickaxe because the ground is frozen solid, and I broke two shovels. We should leave now. I'll drive."

"I'll do you one better. I've got a backhoe behind the barn that will cut through the ground like a red hot knife through frozen butter. I'll meet you at Mary's house in thirty minutes."

It didn't take me long to dig the grave for Mary's Golden Retriever after we took down a section of the privacy fence to get the backhoe in. Mary wrapped Missy in a red plaid blanket when we laid her to rest. I suspected Joe's back was hurting by the way he was walking, and I insisted he go inside and lie down, or help Ann who was preparing a fried chicken dinner for us. It started snowing again, and round two of single-digit temperatures with another two to three feet of lake effect snow for the next two days.

Mary was still standing by the little grave looking down, while I nailed the fence back in place and then secured the backhoe on the trailer. When I finished, I joined her at her vigil and stood next to her. After about ten minutes, Mary reached over and took my hand, "I still don't like you," and she turned and looked at me, smiling, and "I can't put into words you showing up like this. Let me show you," and she hugged me, putting her arms my neck and her head on my shoulder.

"They're watching us from the window, and it is getting colder. Don't you think you should go inside?"

"Let them wait a little longer. I feel warm and safe with you holding me. I can hear your heart beating, Mr. Stone, and it's a good man's heart. Missy was a sweet, girl."

"I'm sure Missy was," I said gently, "I buried my Black Lab when I was twelve. We were inseparable. We were the same age, and we grew up together. Duchess was a good old girl, and she loved the water; retrieving anything I threw in it. The marker on her grave says, "Duchess, a loyal companion, and a loving pet; especially when she was wet," and yes the epitaph may be corny to some, but not to me. I have her dog license tag on my key ring."

"We can do something like that for Missy's resting place in the spring," she said brightly, "Oh, Michael, will you help me?"

She said, "We," we as in us. Mary forgave my trespass, and I silently said a small prayer for my ex-wife. I was back to my center again.

"Yes, of course, I'll help, but it is time to go inside now. Ann is banging on the window and waving at us."

Ann's fried chicken was the tastiest fried chicken this side of Sunday. Included in the home-cooked delight were buttermilk biscuits, mashed potatoes with chicken gravy, glazed carrots, and Mary's homemade pickled beets.

Joe was telling the unadulterated tavern story over coffee while Mary was serving Ann's homemade rice pudding for dessert. "Always defending a Lady's honor," Mary said, and I shrugged. "I can't imagine you with long hair and a beard." She sat next to me and kissed my cheek, "I prefer you the way you are now, Michael, well-barbered and clean-shaven. My Dad used to say, "A shave in the morning puts a shine on a man's face." And her compliment put a smile on mine.

Joe's back was still bothering him, and they went home shortly after dessert before the storm hit. I helped Mary in the kitchen by scrubbing the pots and pans, while she rinsed the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. I was thinking, 'Mary's kitchen is modern, and the theme of her home and decorations are mostly antiques. There is comfortable furniture to be sure, and barrister bookcases everywhere.'

I was standing in front of the sink drying my hands on a dish towel when Mary put her arms around my waist and said, "Missy used to sleep on the end of my bed. She was such a comfort to me. I don't want to be alone tonight, will you please stay?"

"Yes, of course, I'll stay if that's what you want. I can sack out on the big sofa," and I turned to look into Mary's warm green eyes.

"Michael, you'll do no such thing. We're alone, and you haven't kissed me today," and she put her arms around my neck while I pulled her close and kissed her lips long and deep. For the first time, Mary returned my kiss with the same passion and enthusiasm.

"I get it; you want me to sleep curled up on the end of your bed."

"Funny guy, let me show you what I want," and Mary took me by the hand, and led me to her bedroom, "You may want to shower first while I change the sheets. I'll have my shower after yours. There are razors for you to shave if you don't mind pink ones. Please shave for me." I wasn't about to pass up a hot shower on a cold night like this, and if my Lady wanted me to shave, I'd shave.

I was rinsing what was left of Mary's Raspberry Mist shaving cream from my face when she walked in naked and yanked off the towel that I had wrapped around my waist. She put it on the floor in front of the shower saying teasingly, "Who is in control, know, Michael? Now you're on display for me." She put her hair up with a large hair clip and got into the shower with a big smile on her face.

I was sitting on her antique poster bed, and leaning up against the headboard on pillows when Mary walked naked into the bedroom. She picked up her hairbrush from the dresser and stood in front of the cherry wood oval antique free-standing mirror. "I know you have a thing for long hair. You couldn't keep your hands out of my hair when we were dancing. Will you brush it for me?" Mary asked, taking her red auburn hair down while arching her back and shaking her head.

I stood behind Mary with a rock hard erection and started brushing her thick and luxurious hair "You look mysterious and sexy with bangs."

"Thank you; I haven't had bangs since my early teens. You did this before, haven't you?"

"Yes, in the past, but now, and forever, I only have eyes for you."

"I don't doubt that. What if I were to tell you that I enjoyed some aspects of our agreement, such as how you made me dress, and being sent to a strange place to get a haircut, while not knowing how short my hair might be cut and styled? You are a dangerous and forceful man. That aspect of you arouses and frightens me, as much as your thoughtful and gentle side intrigues me."

"I've thought about that, Mary. I wondered if you enjoyed being with me just a little. I contemplated why you returned three times and didn't walk away. Then there was our conversation over coffee on Wednesday when you said it is not forgotten and you did walk away. You were wearing perfume that day, the same perfume you're wearing now." I slid the elastic hair tie from the handle of the hairbrush and began brushing Mary's hair back and gathering it up for a high ponytail, and I was thinking, 'Interesting, Mary likes to watch us in the mirror. What a great idea! We are like voyeurs watching ourselves.'

"Your nipples and hard, Mary. I can see our reflections in the mirror, and I can smell the musky arousal of your sweet, moist shaved pussy. Does this turn you on, because it does me, and I'm going to screw you hard and fast."

"Michael, I," Mary started to say before I interrupted, "I want a sexy ponytail, baby. This brush has other uses besides the obvious, so be a good girl and take your medicine," and I tapped the brush lightly on her shapely ass.

"I want you to play with your pussy while I finish your ponytail. Do you masturbate in front of the mirror often?" and Mary blushed, and then smiled, that I guessed her secret, the mirror shows all. "Yes, that's right, honey, your secret is safe with me. Did I tell you how breathtakingly beautiful you look this evening? Make yourself nice and wet for me," and I rubbed my rock hard cock on her ass cheeks, as I stroked her thick silky ponytail from top to bottom, enjoying the thickness and soft, smooth texture between my fingers.

"In the Victorian Era, Erotic Literature referred to a woman's long hair as bedroom hair, and here we are. It is time to follow through what I started on New Year's Eve."

I cupped her perfect, and firm, round breasts in my hands, caressing her rosy upturned nipples with my thumbs as I kissed the sides of her face and neck, making her moan with pleasure. Mary fingered her plump pussy and rubbed her ass against my hard throbbing cock.

I got down on my knees and began rubbing Mary's shaved pussy with my fingers followed by spreading her flower petals and licking her clit with my tongue.

She tasted delicious, and soon she was wet and moaning loudly, and moving her hips, holding my head, and pushing her vagina into my face as I licked her clitoris.

When I knew Mary's was approaching her orgasm, I stopped, prolonging the inevitable.

"Why did you stop Michael... it feels so good," she said licking her lips and sighing..."Please, Michael, let me come."

"Soon, get on your hands and knees in front of me and face the mirror," and when she did, I entered Mary slowly from behind, and held in place with her long ponytail. Mary moaned with pleasure as she pushed against me, rotating her hips and clenching her thighs. "Have you been done it like this way before?" I asked...no answer, she was in her erogenous zone, and I was fast approaching mine.

I started off slow, gradually increasing my cadence and the power of my thrusts, pounding her now dripping pussy with my hard cock. "Oh God. fuck me harder," she said, "Pull my hair and fuck me harder, fuck me harder. It's been too long, too long, make me fucking come, damn you," and Mary was bucking and twisting from side to side.

Although I was trying to time my orgasm with Mary's, her exuberant sexuality was an incredibly arousing experience. I selfishly wanted to come first. I've never been with a wildcat in the bedroom like Mary before, with her unadulterated vocalization, coupled with her raw, primal enjoyment of fucking, on the floor, and in front of a mirror, and there were more surprises to follow.

I fucked as if our lives depended on it, and our orgasms were a rolling crescendo of thunder and lightning. A few seconds after, I stood up and offered Mary, my hand. She stood and took my face with both hands and kissed lips long and deep. Then with a lascivious smile, and a mischievous look on her face, Mary put her hands on my chest and pushed me back to the bed, and of course, I let her push me onto it, and lay there on my back, waiting.

"No, talking, Michael. Be a good boy and pay attention, because school is in session," and Mary got on the bed and knelt between my legs, and said, "Your first lesson this evening Mr. Stone, will be on the uses of bedroom hair."

Mary took her hair out of the ponytail, and it flowed like a red auburn waterfall over her shoulders and down her back to pool and ripple at her trim waist. She leaned over me until her thick silky hair covered my chest and stomach, and then rubbed her long luxurious, thick, silky hair on my cock and balls, getting me instantly hard again. I enjoyed playing with her hair when dancing, but this was the culmination of a man's fantasy hair play.

Mary began licking and sucking, fast and slow, running her tongue up and down the shaft and licking my balls. She then licked the tip and then the shaft while, while running her tongue from top to bottom, looking up into my eyes and smiling. Mary then pushed her hair forward to keep it out of her mouth, and it covered my chest and neck. I buried my hands in it as she took my entire cock into her mouth licking and sucking, teasing and probing. She was totally in control, and I was at her mercy, as she performed a salacious and sensual lip and tongue symphony, to equal her performance of Rachmaninoff's 3rd piano concerto.

My orgasm was like a volcano shooting streams of white-hot semen in her mouth; Mary swallowed all of my semen not spilling a drop.

I went limp. I didn't want to move. I was floating on my warm Nirvana cloud of contentment. As I lay there with my eyes closed, totally relaxed. Mary said something I didn't catch, She then kissed my lips and said, "Mary to Michael, I never knew you to be at a loss for words, Grandpa," she teased, "Just a minute, I want to model something for you."

She returned wearing white silk camisole and silk panties. "What do you think, lover?" she asked slowly turning in a small circle.

"I think I found my words. You look sexy and desirable, and I have very good taste in selecting your sleeping and lounging attire. I prefer to sleep in the buff, in case something suddenly comes up, and being with you makes that a certainty." I teased back.

Mary smiled and cracked the window a few inches to let in fresh air and then joined me underneath the covers. She snuggled up for me to put my arms protectively around her. She was mine. "This is nice," I said, "It's snowing to beat the band. You're on vacation, and so am I. My crews won't be pouring concrete until the weather lifts, and it's my slow part of the year."

"Cuddling and talking is something I miss," Mary agreed, "and the close intimacy and comfort of sleeping next to somebody." I was thinking how she was pressed up against me on New Year's morning. "We are an item now, Michael, so let them talk. I'm going to tell you some things I've never told anyone. In many ways, he wasn't like you at all?"

"Who are you talking about, Mary."

"I'm talking about my husband, John."

"Your husband was a well-published Archeologist if I'm not mistaken?

"Yes, John was Historical Archeologist and seldom home. I traveled with him the first few years until I realized that nomadic life in the field under sometimes primitive conditions without my books and my piano was not for me. I'm more of a homebody. John was a good man and brilliant in his field. He was also dependent on wealthy donors to bankroll his work, and they wanted results and perks for their money."

"Let me guess; those wealthy donors hit on you, thinking themselves entitled? You strenuously rejected them, and you stopped their advances in their tracks; kicking or kneeing them where it counts, and then, they threatened to cut off your husband's research money."