The Postman Always Pees Twice
The ribbing started even before Brendan clocked in at the post office.
Even with the clock room door closed he could hear his work buddies Chad and Josh conferring.
"Ol' Brendan's gonna get the main vein drained today, eh?"
Huh?
Even Jerry, who loudly announced the dwindling number of days until his retirement every morning, mused "Maybe I should have taken that route one last time."
"What on earth is going on, guys?" Brendan addressed the room in general. Though he'd been with the postal service for six months, since right after high school graduation, he was just getting his start as a substitute carrier. He'd arrived at work that morning expecting to sell stamps and weigh packages, but instead had been sent back to the sorting room to fill in on a route.
Even though they were busy with the sort, Brendan couldn't help but notice that most of the guys were grinning from ear-to-ear.
"All I'm gonna say is that you're about to have a good day on the job, son." A few of the guys laughed.
Still puzzled, Brendan tapped on the office door.
"You're subbing in for Martin," the supervisor didn't look up from his computer screen. "Don't let me hear about you lollygagging out there today."
Brendan was more confused than ever. He'd always heard sidelong comments that Martin had the primo route, but he'd never questioned why. The guys sometimes even teased Martin about moving in on his route or, with a wink, begged him to trade just for one day. He'd always figured Martin's route just had less impatient traffic or fewer barking dogs.
The teasing jabs continued as Brendan finished loading his truck. When he turned to shut the door he realized that the other men had gathered around him.
"193 Weaver. Don't forget that address." This was Jerry. Brendan wasn't sure he'd ever received a single other piece of advice from the short-timer.
"Yeah, commit that shit to memory," Chad echoed.
"You always need to deliver to the house and ring the doorbell," Josh added.
"What the heck, guys?" Brendan's exasperation was starting to show. As the dutiful son of a Baptist minister, "heck" was about as salty as his language ever got.
"Oh, and make sure you drink this." Josh handed him an extra large bottle of water. "Let's just say you oughta make sure you're ready for a pit stop."
"Make that a piss stop," Chad practically giggled.
Aha, Brendan thought. Some scantily clad MILF was going to answer the door and let him use her restroom. His cock thickened up slightly at the thought, but he was still too new at this to risk shenanigans. He heard his dad's voice in his ears, "Son, you're goshdarn lucky to land that government job. Show it the respect it deserves."
"Yeah okay. 193 Weaver. Ring the doorbell. Got it. Thanks."
Brendan shut the door of his mail truck, muttering to no one. "I think..."
It wasn't generally the greatest idea to drink a 500ml bottle of water on an untested route, even on a scorcher like today. Mistime your bathroom breaks and you either found yourself squirming in desperation in your truck or falling behind on deliveries. Neither of which was an appealing proposition as Brendan tried to earn a regular route and the generous pay bump that went with it.
Weaver Street lay near the end of Martin's route. Thinking to himself, "what the heck," Brendan drove past a gas station that he knew had clean facilities, and began shoving junk mail and circulars into mailboxes. 173. 183.
193 Weaver was enormous. Two-stories, sandy colored brick, with a 4-car garage and so many flowers and shrubs that the "yard" was more like "grounds." He'd never in his life set foot in a house that grand. He seriously considered just shoving the mail into the brick-encased mailbox and hustling on. Of course, if he couldn't say how big the MILF's boobs were then he'd never hear the end of it from the guys. Best get this over with.
Letting out a breath, Brendan grabbed the stack of mail for 193 and jumped out of the truck. Only when he stood up did he realize how full his bladder was. It was for the best that this friendly homeowner would let him avail himself to her facilities.
He thought he caught a glimpse of movement through the frosted glass after he rang the doorbell.
"It's open," a female voice called.
"Uh-" Brendan stammered. "It's the mailman."
He thought he heard a muffled giggle.
"I know, silly," the same voice said. "And I said it's open."
Brendan turned the handle and entered 193 Weaver with all the trepidation of a young boy stepping into a haunted house.
His eyes widened at what he saw.
He should have known better than to believe she'd be "just some MILF." The woman of about 40 who greeted him was absolutely stunning. He looked her up and down from her cheerleader-style high dark brown ponytail to cupid's bow lips to the powder blue bikini which left little of her body to the imagination.
He couldn't really determine how tall she was because she kneeling at attention, her knees on a sheet of plastic spread over the hardwood floor.
It took a full thirty seconds of gawking before Brendan closed his mouth. And opened it again. And then closed it again. With that tantalizing sight before him, just feet away on the floor, his heavy bladder was all but forgotten. Instead his cock was practically trying to force its way out of his uniform shorts.
Brendan finally found his words.
"Holy shit."
The woman giggled again. "Welcome to your pit stop."
As propelled by a gravitational force, Brendan took one stop closer to the woman kneeling on the floor.
"Who- Who are you?"
"Well, silly, you have my name on all that mail you're holding in your hands. But for now let's just say I'm someone who really, really appreciates the hard working men of the United States Postal Service."
"No shit." Brendan hadn't been brought up to swear, but his runaway mouth seemed to think these were unusual circumstances. "Ma'am," his good breeding forced him to add.
"Oh, I'm no lady." The gorgeous occupant of 193 Weaver teased, looking up at him. "So tell me, are you ready for your bathroom break?"
Now Brendan was really perplexed.
"Um... Where is it, ma'am?"
"Honey," she crooned. "You're gawking at it right now." With a broad smile she motioned to the plastic spread out on the floor, and then to her chest in the powder blue bikini. Brendan observed that her nipples were as hard as his cock.
"You want me to-?"
"You're a well-raised one, aren't you, darlin'? Some of the other guys have tried to shove their big ol' cocks in my mouth as soon as they see me here."
Brendan gaped.
"And by that I mean, come here, young man, and relieve your need. Are you getting it now? I'm your bathroom break."
Brendan moved forward until he stood over her kneeling form, noticing how the powder blue bikini barely stretched to cover the tops of her areola.
He tried to repeat the same sentence again. "You want me to piss-?"
"On me." She reached up and stroked his swollen cock inside his blue uniform shorts. "Or in me." She opened her mouth and saucily stuck her tongue out at him.
With a few deft ministrations of her hands, Brendan's cock sprang free. It pointed right at the gorgeous woman's lips.
"Now usually," she continued. "I make my mail carrier get right down to business. No fooling around. But I can tell the boys didn't tell you about me. You came to me with a bursting bladder, right?"
Brendan could only nod down at her, dumbly.
"Then I'll help you with what you clearly want, big boy," she nodded to his straining cock. "So you can give me what I want."
And with that, she engulfed his cock head in her hot mouth.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Brendan's flabbergasted brain could only muster expletives, as she pulled her mouth off his cock and slowly teased her tongue around his head like he had the world's tastiest lollipop. One deft hand cupped his balls and ever-so-gently rolled them with her fingers, even as her mouth captured his cock again. He loosely gripped her ponytail in one hand, forcing her to suck deeper with animal determination.
"I'm gonna... Oh my god, I'm gonna come, ma'am."
He felt his shaft slide deep, deeper down her talented throat and then there were nothing but the little explosions of light in his head as his orgasm overtook him. He came for what felt like hours, and she gamely swallowed and swallowed.
He felt like his knees would give out at any second. There he was, Brendan Bacon, postal clerk and substitute mail carrier, with his spent hard-on slowly wilting inside the mouth of one of the homeowners on his route.
He was having a hell of a day.
Coming back to reality, he noticed he still clutched the stack of mail under one arm. Unthinkingly, he glanced at the topmost letter.
"Your name is Alexis."
He knew that was an absurd thing to say, especially as he watched the nearly-naked woman who'd just sucked him off wipe the last traces of his come from her mouth with the back of her hand.
Now tidy, she smiled. "And you are?"
"Brendan, ma'am."
"Well, Brendan, time for you to take your piss break."
She reached up and aimed his cock at her powder blue-clad, barely-covered breasts.
"Oh ma'am, I want to. I really do. I think you're hot as hell, but I don't know if I can-"
"Say it."
Brendan gulped. "I don't know if I can take a piss on you, ma'am."
This time it was Alexis's turn to shiver with desire.
His mind flashed back to his boyhood. When he'd been very young, maybe 6 or 7, he'd pissed on the carpet in the corner of the living room. He vaguely remembered having a brand new PlayStation game and not wanting to pause it. When his mother had found the stain she'd whipped him but good.
But now, despite himself and all his good home training, Brandon felt his bladder reaching the point of no return.
His cock still aimed at Alexis's breasts he asked one more time, "Are you certain, ma'am?"
"Oh Brendan," Alexis breathed. "Aim that fat cock and piss on me, Brendan. Piss on my tits."
That was all it took. Brendan felt and saw the first clear spurt gush forth from his cock and splatter Alexis's right tit. The powder blue material immediately turned transparent, and now her bikini top clung enticingly to one soaked, rock-hard nipple.
Pleased by the effect, Brendan aimed his stream at her other tit. With that, both of her mounds were practically visible through the thin fabric.
"Oh fuck." His manners abandoned him completely at the delicious sight.
And then Alexis opened her mouth. She stuck her tongue out at him tauntingly and he knew exactly what to do. Hefting his cock upward, he aimed his jet at her wide-open mouth. The sight of his high-velocity piss stream spurting out of his cock, bouncing off her tongue and sliding down the back of her throat made his knees go perilously week.
He wiggled his cock, aiming higher on her face. Alexis closed her eyes. Her mouth widened into a smile. He waggled his member, soaking her mouth, eyelids, nose and hair with the arcing stream.
The look on her face was pure ecstasy. There on the floor, piss pooling all around her knees, Brendan realized that Alexis was having the time of her life.
Too heartbreakingly soon his piss stream slowed to a trickle. With newfound confidence he maneuvered his limp cockhead into Alexis's mouth, knowing she'd be more than happy to lick the slit clean before he tucked himself back into his regulation shorts.
He stared down at her, dumbfounded.
But with his main vein now drained, Alexis stood up. More businesslike now, she put a hand out.
"I'll take that mail now. You'd best be on your way so you don't get in trouble."
Still in a daze, Brendan let himself be ushered to the door. Back in his mail truck, he briefly imagined Alexis gathering up the splattered plastic on the floor, then heading for the shower. Removing that soaked powder blue bikini top and... Oh lordy.
___
Later that day if the rest of the neighbors on Weaver St. found their mail delivered topsy turvy, they just sighed and crossed the street to stuff the correct letters in the proper neighbors' boxes. These substitute mailmen were becoming a real problem. Why were their heads always up in the clouds?
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