Dennis was the oldest postman in town. There was not a day when, on his eight-hour lap, he did not think about retirement. Up the long hill to Mack’s gas station, he calculated that it was only an hour away from completing the gruelling “walk.”
“I shouldn’t have bothered, buddy,” said the owner of the gas station, throwing the package in the trash. “It’s just advertising rubbish. Your usual double espresso? He clicked on the controls at the back of the counter to produce a small carton of black jet coffee.
“Thank you, Mack. This is going to give me a good boost to get me back to the sorting office. And Don’t I need it!
Parking his delivery cart under a lean awning an hour later, the old postman mixed into the staff toilets. It was just after 5pm and only Gerald and Alice stayed. Gerald was an ex-teacher and little Alice – the youngest postal delivery employee of the sorting office – was the apple of all eyes. Trim of the figure, with a cute pink blonde fringe, no one could fail to notice how her white regulation-problem cotton blouse hung comfortably against her tiny breasts. She looked wide-eyed as Dennis shambled in “Hi, Dennis! How did it go today?
Dennis collapsed on the bench next to her. “I’m bushy, Alice. Eight hours around this frigging town. Delivery of invoices that no one wants and commercial garbage that is not worth the paper it is printed on. I have the spirit of filing a formal complaint. With a haughty sniff, Gerald’s gone.
“I shouldn’t do that if I were you, hun,” plassa the young postman plassa. “You’re going to put your head on the block. The word is that management is looking to make eight of us redundant by Christmas.
“But this climb to Mack’s gas station is killing me.”
Alice picked up two cups of tea from the vending machine and gave Dennis one. “How would it be if we exchanged tricks? I’ll do your climb tomorrow and you can take my walk. I usually finish it in five hours.
“Management would never wear it.”
“Eat won’t even know, darling. These lazy gits never hang around here until 9:00 in the morning, so we’ll be gone and we’re leaving until then. What are you saying?
Dennis sadly sipped his tea. “Well, if you’re, willing to try for one day, Alice, I’d be extremely grateful.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Long before 8:00 a.m., Alice had sorted Dennis’ delivery and loaded it into his trolley. As she walked with him to the gates of the sorting office to see him leave on his new road, she warned: “There are only two dogs: a small terrier at 364 Oaklands – just kick him – and an evil Rottweiler at the interse Fairlands Avenue. I just set up their mail on the lawn. Dennis nodded and stopped fanning the warnings.
Alice quickly discovered that Dennis’ walk was indeed arduous, with nary offering refreshment. She stopped at the front door of a secluded cottage with a moss-covered shingle roof, surrounded by a garden that looked more like a wildlife sanctuary. According to the small brown plot she had fished in her cart, it was the house of a castle of Miss Hilda. On the entrance post, an enamel sign on the door post read: “Will the appellants use the rear entrance.”
Alice wandered the way through the undergrowth. At the back of the dilapidated cottage was a small paved patio. And lying face down on a reclining chair was a tall woman tanned by the sun. She stirred as she heard Alice’s footsteps and hurried a towel.
I said, “Good morning. I’ve got a package for Miss Castle.
“Why yes, it’s me. Where’s Dennis? I hope he is not sick.
“No, just a little tired. I offered to take his walk for him today because it’s obviously going to be hot. Can I have you sign for that, please?
“Oh my God,” cried the older woman enthusiastically. “Has it ever happened? I didn’t order it until Saturday. Get into the kitchen, don’t you? Would you like a glass of homemade lemonade?
Miss Castle’s kitchen was just as cluttered as her neglected garden, with curtains eaten by moths, framed sepia photographs, cracked plates and a bouquet of dried lavender hanging from the lampshade.
Alice put the package on the kitchen table. Its contents were contained in a twelve-inch-long cylindrical brown tube, with circular white plastic discs taped to each end. Miss Castle appeared, now dressed in a towelling dress. “I’m dying to see him,” she enthused.
Alice was sipping her lemonade. “Well, why not open it?”
The woman blushed with embarrassment. “Oooo, I couldn’t. You see, it’s very… Private. You might find a trifle… Naughty.
Pouring a second glass of lemonade – and trying to appear shamelessly – the young postman replied, “Please don’t bother me. I’m practically indissoluble. He added with a smile: “Actually, I rather like ‘naughty.'”
“Do you do it?”
“As long as it’s just between us girls.”
“It will most certainly be!” With which Miss Castle took a small kitchen knife from a drawer in the dresser and deftly removed the tape securing one of the corks. Then she upset the content on the table. Under several layers of bubble wrap, they could both make a thin object wrapped in pink fabric.
Although she had a pretty clever idea of what the object was, Alice decided to play safely. “Is it a garden fork?”
The woman shook her head and smiled as she folded the outer layers.
I said, “No.”
Hilda Castle laughed with joy as she peeled the pink fabric, revealing a beautifully realistic mushroom head nine-inch pink plastic dildo. The tube also contained a small pocket in which there were four leather straps with chrome buckles. “Oh my God! And I mostly told them I didn’t want the strap-on model.
“Why was it?” Alice asked, temporarily pushing the surface of the soft plastic phallus.
“Because I just want to use it as a toy.”
“Inside your cunnie?”
“Err, well yes, since you say it that way,” replied Miss Castle, blushing.
Alice removed the straps from their pocket and began to thread them through the base of the dilet. “These toys have two uses, you know.”
I said, “Oh yes.” The young postwoman reached out to unbuckle her pants, dropping them to the floor to reveal a tiny pair of pink panties. Picking up the big plastic rooster, she asked, “Watch out for a demonstration?”
“What is … You and me?
She reached back to buckle up the straps on her bottom. I said, “Why not?”
Turning to show the woman her pretty buttocks, now crisscrossed by the white leather ties of the strap-on, Alice asked, “Squeeze the curls for me, will you?” Miss Castle went to work with enthusiasm.
“Then this will be your first time?”
“First time for what?”
“As it says on your door post: ‘Will Callers Please use the rear entrance’.”
“Most definitely, ‘yes’. I have never done it that way.
“Well, I think you’re going to enjoy it.” She began to liberally lube the imitation phallus with olive oil from a bottle of the dresser. “Now just lean on the table for me and grab the edges tightly. Naughty Alice will give you a nice fuck!