Alright, I’ve got to spill this I’m 41, and I fucked the post-office boy last week, and I’m still wet thinking about it. He’s this cocky 20-something with a tight shirt and a grin that screamed trouble. Dropped off a package, caught me in my skimpy robe, and I just knew. Invited him in for ‘water,’ but five minutes later, I’m bent over the kitchen counter, his hands gripping my hips, pounding me so hard the dishes rattled. I moaned like a slut, told him to go deeper, and he did God, that kid had stamina. Left with my signature and a smirk, and now I’m hoping he delivers daily. No regrets, just dripping for round two.
