Chapter 1

To hear folks talk about it now, it sounds like some kind of miracle or incident of divine intervention, but if the truth be known, the only reaction most residents in these parts can muster is total disbelief and, perhaps, it is better left that way with most of us remaining in complete ignorance.

I knew Amy Wilson when she was growing up on the wrong side of town in that neighborhood where the Mexicans took up residence inside any place that had a functional roof on it to keep out the wet weather. It was not a pretty place but the young ones didn't seem to mind because all they were interested in was playing their mysterious games that made no sense at all.

My name is Jethro Travis and I have been delivering the mail around here just outside San Antonio for the last almost thirty years without any complaints from the general public. I was well-acquainted with Amy's folks who were good Christian stock originally from up in Oklahoma Territory. Of course, we all noticed right away that Amy was a mite dark-complexioned for a Wilson family member but we attributed it to being in the sun all day long and the fact that there might be some truth to the rumors that her ma who was Jerry Wilson's first wife was part Comanche. Now, there were some long-held animosities toward the Comanche tribe in this vicinity that were likely to be flourishing for some time into the future. None of Jerry's closest neighbors repeated the rumor in range of his hearing because he was the sort to shoot first and ask questions later.

It had to be early spring of the previous year that I remember seeing Amy swinging on the rubber tire in her front yard waiting for me to drop off the mail right on time. I generally prided my ability to keep a tight schedule no matter how bad the weather because I was filled with a spirit of insuring prompt delivery of all postal items to the correct address. It was beginning to change lately with the new crop of postal workers. They all seemed much more concerned with things like the retirement system, the health care benefits and job security without any danger of cutbacks and layoffs to threaten their way of life. Not that I was against any of those necessities, it was just that it was little too much of "milking" the system and not trying to do the best job one could do as a public servant.

She was kicking her pretty little legs up real high in the air and I could see all the way up to her white drawers hidden between her legs. I didn't think much of it because in all honesty I was getting a bit on in years and my libido was on stand-by mode ever since the operation that separated me from my prostate gland in order to give me more years to enjoy my retirement.

At that particular time, I reckoned Miss Amy was almost seventeen and I guess that makes her eighteen now and ready to fly from the nest if that was in her pretty little mind to do.

On that fine day, the pert and pretty Miss Amy was swinging with a spirit of enthusiasm that made her seem ill-suited to the generally dismal atmosphere of the other side of the tracks. It was in sharp contrast to her older hump-backed sister Misty who was firmly planted on her generous backside on the front steps of the Wilson doublewide that had seen better days a long time ago.

That Misty was a handful because she had the foulest mouth and the meanest personality of anyone I had ever come in contact with on this sprawling route with a variety of issues and societal shortcomings. That was saying a lot because there were a lot of nasty characters in the neighborhood who probably should have been incarcerated in a prison or a mental institution if only the State had enough money in their budget to house them away from normal folks.

I tended to suspect that Miss Amy had some problems of her own because she often seemed to be listening to and sometimes talking to an imaginary companion not visible to us other mortals. It was the sort of thing that one expects from a loony bin resident and not from a sweet little teenaged girl with long legs and unwrinkled white panties.

Misty was shouting with her usual rude vocabulary and both Amy and I pretended we didn't hear her well enough to understand the depravity of her words.

Amy invited herself to come into my official postal vehicle and proceeded to sit and then bounce on my lap as if she was my favorite niece or daughter. In all honesty, it didn't really bother me much at all because the feel of her soft round cheeks was mighty memorable even if I was long past any chance of reacting to the invitation into inappropriate behavior.

The thing that really bothered me was that she had this distant look on her face like she was in some sort of trance and the fact that a naked fully-formed female dwarf was clinging to her back like some backpack of feminine delight.

I didn't say anything about that right away because I was uncertain as to the circumstances and feared there was some sort of magical or paranormal event in progress and I didn't want to be the one to cause pretty young Amy any difficulty. It was obvious from Misty's attitude and general air of nasty disrespect that she had no clue of Amy's unwanted traveling companion.

The "thing" and I called it a thing because I was not quite sure if it was truly human in any sense of the word as yet looked down at me and my exposed member with utter distain. Poor Amy had pulled it out in the hope that I might scratch her desperate itch with uniformed discreetness and deliver more than a parcel or a letter between her pretty legs. It was a compromising position and one that I was afraid would cause me dismissal before I had the opportunity to retire with my well-deserved "gold watch".

Misty looked at her sister bouncing lustily on my lap and looked crushed because she was not getting any Postal Service goodies just like her slutty younger sister. I honestly felt a twinge of pity for the poor hunch-backed girl because she was not unattractive despite that hindrance.