Special Delivery
by Mat Twassel
Copyright© 2021 by Mat Twassel
Erotica Sex Story: Lately the U.S. Postal Service has come under a lot of criticism. Katrina, however, has no complaints about her mailman. Illustrated.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Anal Sex Analingus Illustrated .
On hot summer mornings, as noon approached, Katrina liked to sit out on the front porch reading her book and waiting for the mail. Mr. Foster, the postman, always had a nice smile for Katrina, and sometimes she would invite him inside for a glass of iced tea and a quick fuck. Mr. Foster never refused.
Once inside, once Katrina and Mr. Foster got all nice and naked, Katrina handed Mr. Foster the book and the glass of iced tea. “I hope you don’t mind that it’s hard lemonade today,” Katrina said. “I think we’re on Chapter Six.”
Drink and book in hand, Mr. Foster read chapter six.
Once inside, once Katrina and Mr. Foster got all nice and naked, Katrina handed Mr. Foster the book and the glass of iced tea. “I hope you don’t mind that it’s hard lemonade today,” Katrina said. “I think we’re on Chapter Six.”
Drink and book in hand, Mr. Foster read chapter six.
“I love how plush the rug is,” Katrina said, her face rubbing the soft nap. “It should prevent our knees from getting chafed when we fuck. But first could you take a sip of the drink, and then touch your icy cold tongue to the rim of my asshole?”
Mr. Foster took a sip of the drink, then touched the tip of his tongue to Katrina’s asshole.
“Ooh, that feels shivery good, do it again,” Katrina said.
Mr. Foster took another sip. This time he brushed his tongue around the rim of Katrina’s asshole.
“Ooh, nice. Now can you stick it in a little?”
Another sip, and Mr. Foster pushed his tongue into Katrina’s ass.
“Oh yes! More, more, more! Deeper. Oooh.”
Mr. Foster poured a drizzle of the icy liquid onto Katrina’s ass, then lapped it up.
“You do that soooo good,” Katrina purred. “I think I could almost come from it. What’s next?”
Mr. Foster stopped.
“What’s next? Katrina repeated.
“I don’t know,” Mr. Foster said. “I lost my place.”
“Oh shit!” Katrina exclaimed. “Well, can you improvise?”
Mr. Foster improvised.
“Oh yes!” Katrina gasped. “Fuck that big cock into my needy little cunt.”
The improvisation lasted a good long time. By the finish, despite the plushness of the rug, Mr. Foster’s and Katrina’s knees were significantly chafed.
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