John Peter - Teenage wives

She rocked her hips around and around. She weaved a gentle pattern of sensuous rubbing up and down the mailman's cock muscle. Soon she was squeezing him with her long interior flesh muscles, grabbing on and holding tight to his anus cheeks with her hands, and kissing him from lip to lip with her tongue and mouth. She even bit him a little. She spread her legs wide, made her trough deep, and demanded that he spray off inside her before she come on him.

"No way," he said. "I want to feel your passion pit fill with juice before I give you my pudding."

"I was just testing," she said, and with that she started bobbing her hips up and down, sliding her cunt over and over again on his cock, until, finally, she was all juice and lust and orgasm. "Fuck me hard, now, Arnie. Really go in tough as nails, please. Really fuck the shit out of me. Come on and do it."

"What makes a young girl like you so hot," said Arnie, "I'll never know." But he kept sliding his prick up and down, making her as many times as she needed to be made with his big stroking joint, and the more he fucked her the hotter she got. Finally he gave in to his tremendous passions and let loose with his remaining come. He literally flooded the chamber with juice. There was pudding everywhere inside of Janet Tib-bleton's young sucking cunt tube. Still, though, the hole was tight and soft as satin. When it was all over the mailman pulled his prick out of her vagina and said: "You're going to get all your mail early in the morning from now on, Mrs. Tibbleton. I guarantee it."

"Not too early," she said with a smile. "My husband doesn't leave until eight-thirty a.m., you know." She climbed off the bed. "Want to take a quick shower before you go back out there into the rough and tumble world of being a postman?"

He nodded and once again followed that delightful set of flesh cheeks, this time to the bathroom and into the shower. They washed each other and dried off with a soft towel. The postman dressed in his uniform and prepared to leave. On the way out he couldn't resist asking Janet Tibbleton about the special delivery letter. "Are you sure you don't want to open that letter and see what it is? I mean people don't often send something special delivery unless it's urgent, you know."

"Well," said Janet, "this was urgent." She smiled and winked at the postman. "I sent this letter special delivery myself." She opened it and showed him that it was empty. "I didn't have much to say to myself, but I knew that you did." She smiled and wished the postman, who she'd been eyeing for the previous week, a good day.

The grocery boy was a constant source of amusement to young Janet. Sometimes, just to see him blush, she would answer the door with only her panties and bra on. She knew that he had a crush on her from the first day he arrived with the delivery of bags packed with market goods. He nearly spilled one bag trying to keep from staring at her big tittles and firm ass cheeks. She always made a point of asking him, just to try and get his goat, if he was married or not. Any fool could tell that the youth didn't even have a girlfriend-his face was covered with nervous acne, and his hands were always a bit shaky-and it was a mean streak as well as a kind of curiosity which made Janet Tibbleton persistent in taunting the lad. On occasion, as he brought the groceries into the kitchen and bent over to set down the heavy bags, Janet would purposefully graze his butt with her thigh or her passing hand. She, of course, would say nothing, but she would watch with intense excitement as the boy's face filled with a blush. He was too timid to do or say anything else. His face turned crimson and he would ask if there was anything else she needed done, and Janet would say, "No, thank you," as curtly as possible. She treated him, in those short intense moments, like a slave. Deep down inside she resented him for some unconscious reason.

One time he showed up short one bag of groceries. Though it was not the youth's fault, Janet took advantage of the market error to scold the boy severely. She reprimanded him in an even-pitched stern and relentless voice. "Jack," she said, "I'm ashamed of you. You come here daily, sometimes, and you look at my body, and you think nasty, wicked thoughts about me, and now you've forgotten a bag of groceries." She pushed her chest out at him to make the punishment that much more difficult for him to take. "Well?" she said. "Well, don't you have anything to say for yourself? Are you just going to stand there and be ashamed? Is that it, Jack? You're ashamed because you're so nasty and stupid like an oaf?" The teenager nearly burst into tears as he ran from the Tib-bleton household. Had his feet not been carrying him so quickly back to his delivery truck, he'd have seen the blonde teenage bride standing at the window watching his ass cheeks run away while she laughed at him out loud. She enjoyed having just one person to humiliate, and the grocery boy served well as some sort of whipping post and scapegoat for her own psyche.

On another similar occasion, after she'd scolded him for something minor like not wiping his feet off before he stepped on her freshly waxed kitchen floor, she added insult to injury by taking him aside in the corner of the room. She backed him up against a cupboard and put her hand down between their bodies. It was a moment that the lad dreamed of, longed for, in some sense or other, and he knew full well that Mrs. Tibbleton was tempting him very close to the line over which he would only regretfully cross on his own. Her fingers were less than an inch from his crotch, and her fifties were fully pressed close to his face. If he had had the nerve to take a deep breath, he'd have pressed up against her just by filling his torso with fresh wind. She stood there with her hand close to his cock, nearly touching it, and then backed away. Sure enough, just the proximity of her young supple body near his had brought his cock to attention. "Look at you," she said, "cowering there like a scared pussy cat. Are you chicken, Jack? Is that it? Are you a little chicken shit boy? What is it, Jack? Afraid to come to Janet with your real feelings?" She hesitated and then changed her voice. "Of course you're afraid. Because you think only rotten dirty things, you stupid ugly adolescent. You have no idea what's pretty in the world and you come here with your filthy notions of how to deliver groceries to a married woman. Isn't that right, Jack?!" He took a deep breath and finally stood up to her; "You have no right to say those things to me, Mrs. Tibbleton. I may be a little younger than you are, but I have feelings, too."

"Of course, you do, Jack," said Janet, coming up close to him. "Of course you have feelings." She put her arm around his shoulder. He was shaking like a frightened beast. "It's just that your feelings, Jack, are not very natural. They're strange. Jack. You get a boner, don't you, just from thinking about me sometimes. Isn't that right, little Jack?" She caressed his face and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. "You think nasty thoughts and you get a nasty little hard-on. Isn't that right?"

He blushed severely and didn't know what to say. She was confusing him. He didn't think that getting a boner was a bad thing to do, but he liked her in an innocent enough manner and passionately enough that if thinking that it was nasty would make her happy, he would do that. "I don't think it's nasty," he said, risking everything in one quick sentence. "I don't think it's nasty at all. I think you're beautiful and it turns me on to see you." With that he ran again from the house. This time Janet didn't laugh about the boy as he left. She knew he'd come into his own.

She quickly picked up the phone and dialed the market. Before Jack even returned to the store the order was ready for him, one bag of carrots, to the Tibbleton household. Jack begged his manager that he be excused from that delivery, but his boss said that Janet Tibbleton specifically said to send "that very nice boy Jack back" to her house with the delivery, that "no one else would do." Reluctantly, fearing the worst, Jack picked up the bag of carrots and made his way back to Janet's address. He paced outside the door, considered leaving the parcel and ringing the door bell and running. Janet watched from the window as the young man tried to come to terms with himself. She wondered what he'd have decided had he known right then that she stood completely nude on the other side of the door. Luckily for them both, Jack decided to deliver the package in person. He rang the bell, and before his eyes even registered the warm glow on Janet's face and her fresh nude body, her titties and her naked cunt and her long smooth legs, he blurted out: "Here's your package, Mrs. Tibbleton and don't you treat me rotten any more!" When his brain finally accepted the image of what his eyes had instantly perceived, he muttered: "Oh, God. Oh, God."