The Postman Comes Twice

Double Penetration

‘Being a postman around these parts is the best job I could have,’ Dave tells himself. ‘All these La-Di-Da people with their nice houses and big shiny cars parked on the drive. Two cars most of them. Little do they know that the postman sometimes cums twice.’Sitting here in my car in the shadows between the street lights and trees, no one can see me unless they are really looking hard. And they don’t look. They’re too busy getting on with their La-De-Da lives. They’ve got their neighbourhood watch brigade to look out for them anyway. For what use does that lot have? A bunch of timid geriatrics, who would run a mile if they so much as heard a cat fart somewhere in the shadows. There are the houses with security cameras and security lights of course, but if you study the houses as much as I do when I’m out on my rounds during the day, you get to know which ones to steer well clear of. That house opposite – Mr. and Mrs. No kids Jones. More money than sense that pair. No security system, a dark driveway shielded by big trees, and only a simple latch-lock on the front door. You can learn a lot being a postman.This pair, the Jones’s, are in there now getting all tarted up to go out for Friday night dinner. They do it every Friday night. Same time and probably the same restaurant. They don’t give a thought Rus Escort İzmir I suppose, that being creatures of habit leaves them so vulnerable.Here they come now. Same old routine. A little lamp on the side table is switched on in the hall to help them fumble their way back in if they are a bit pissed. No worries about drinking and driving, that pair. They’re above the law, their sort.OK. Front door open. Closed. Car doors open. Both Jones’s getting in. A flash of her panties as she swings her legs into the car. Doors closed. Car lights on. Car reverses out of the drive, then away up the street. Time for me to make my move. I’ve only got an hour to do what I do. They never stay out any longer than that. A quick meal, guzzle some wine, and straight back home.Here we go. Front door opened with the edge of my bank card. Piece of piss that. Close it quickly but silently. Empty rucksack on my shoulder, little torch in hand. Straight up the stairs. No point in messing around looking downstairs. Into the bedroom at the front of the house. I know it’s theirs because I saw Mrs. La-Di-Da Jones in her panties and bra taking her time to pull a dress over her head earlier.I’m sure she did that in the hope that somebody saw her. It probably turns her on imagining izmir otele gelen escort that somebody is out there in the dark, getting off on watching her, wanking at the sight of her in her little panties. Why she would want to wear such skimpy panties to go out for a meal beats me. I suppose that once she has poured a bottle of wine down her throat, she’ll start flashing them at her husband as soon as they’re back in the car, maybe rubbing herself, sticking a couple of fingers in her wet twat and then pushing them in his mouth for him to lick off her juice, trying to turn him on in the car so that by the time they get home, he will be hard and ready to give the slut a good fucking. That’s if he hasn’t drunk a bottle of wine as well and can’t get it up. I expect if that happens she’ll frig herself off instead, or get one of her dildos out and use that.  I expect she’s got a drawer full of dildos and stuff.Anyway, time to get on.“Hey Frank, I really need a good fuck,” Sue Jones says to her husband a little louder than necessary as she swings her legs out of the car, when they’re back home on the drive. She’s touching herself through the crutch of her panties, to make sure she’s good and wet.“Ok honey,” Frank whispers in reply. “But no more talking Buca escort bayan now. You know what the next-door neighbours are like. Nosey bastards. I expect they even listen through the walls while were shagging. It wouldn’t surprise me the way they blab, that half the neighbourhood even knows how long it takes me to cum.”Inside the house now and Sue switches on the overhead hall light.“Frank look. There are dirty boot prints on the carpet, and they’re heading towards the stairs.”“Shh,” Frank replies quietly. “You stay down here and I’ll go and take a look.”He picks up the big heavy metal torch that he keeps on the hall table and after slipping off his shoes, tip-toes up the stairs, following the boot prints towards the front bedroom.“What the fuck!” he shouts when he takes in the site that confronts him, illuminated only by his torch. He hasn’t switched on the lights as He hopes to catch the intruder before He alerts him to his presence. Then he realizes that he’s screwed up on the surprise front though by shouting ‘what the fuck’ as he entered the room. He can’t see the intruder. What he does see are several drawers in his dresser pulled open and odd items of clothing and his male masturbator sleeve on the floor. He swings around and sees that the drawers in his wife’s dresser are in the same state, then notices the panties spread all over the bed. Around twenty pairs of them. He also sees a couple of his wife’s sex toys amongst the panties, as well as a pile of what are obviously a man’s clothes sat at the bottom of the bed which he knows are not his. Then he hears a muffled sneeze from under the bed.

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