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She looks up and sees me jacking off in the window. She is so used to this at this point that I no longer get a startled look; I just get a smile and a nod. She pulls her car forward a couple feet right to the edge of my driveway and turns off the engine. She turns around and fidgets with someone in the back of the mail truck and then opens the door. She gets out and proceeds to walk up my driveway and then to my front door not taking her eyes off me for one second. In one hand she is carrying my mail and in the other is a dark red backpack. I stood there until she is out of sight and on my porch.She rings my doorbell and I yell "Who is it?" with a laugh. She yells back "Postal Service!" I go over to the door and open my front door and then unlock the outer door and open it. I just stood there stroking my cock and she says "This is for you" as she hands me my mail. I smile and take the mail and thank her for bringing it to me. She just smiles back and says "My pleasure". I didn’t. Unaccountably, they had hit it off very well; she a homemaker in what many years ago had become a marriage of convenience, he cast adrift a couple years back from an LTR after he'd been downsized, with his essoh deciding that it was too long to wait the couple years until, with retraining, his earning power was once again what it had been. Regardless of their respective situations, they had enjoyed the evening, talking away, almost like old friends, despite the fact that they had exchanged only a handful of e mails. As they talked, there developed a closeness, an intimacy, that prompted discreet touches across the table, and longing looks, each into the eyes of the other, wondering if, and when.As she returned from the ladies room, both were surprised at the maitre'd hotel, discreetly reminding them of the weeknight schedule that was being kept, and of the world outside. He protested her getting the check, but not too strongly; he was wondering if he ought to suggest, no, not this.
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