The Mail Girl

This is one of my older stories that I never got around to posting...

*****

It was another hot sultry day by the lakeshore, and the late afternoon sun was glinting like a million diamonds on the surface of the calm lake. I had been lulled to sleep by the droning sound of powerboats way off in the distance, and the heady scent of a summer lake. I had lived there for a few years, in a small rustic cabin surrounded on three sides by mature yellow birch and hemlock. It was a nice quiet place, with the nearest road two-tenths of a mile away up a long dirt driveway, and no close neighbors. I take advantage of the privacy and sunbath au naturale sometimes, although that day I had left on some skimpy thin silk briefs. I rarely had any unannounced visitors.

I was laying in my hammock halfway between the cabin and the lake, the hot sun slowly cooking my already bronze flesh, when I was startled to hear a vehicle come down the driveway at a pretty good clip. It was the little white mail truck, and it pulled up to the cabin in a great cloud of dust and squealing brakes. I had been dozing off and must have had a pretty good dream because I had half a hard-on under my tight little briefs. I didn't have any clothing or a towel or anything to hide under, and before I knew it the mailman was headed towards me carrying a small package. My regular mailman, Chip, would have left the box by the door and waved, but this was somebody different. As my brain slowly awakened from its nap, I noticed it was a woman, and before I could think much she was standing next to me.

"Are you Mr. Kenny? John Kenny?" she asked, looking at the name on the box.

"Yeah, that's me," I said. "Where's Chip today?"

"He's on vacation. I've got his route for a couple weeks," she said. As she said it she was sneaking a few good glimpses of my body. "This wouldn't fit in your mailbox, so I thought I'd drive it down rather than leave it on top of the box up there at the road," she said, and she handed me the box.

"Thanks, I appreciate that," I said as I swung my legs over the side of the hammock. It was those kind of moments that made me glad I had spent so much time at the gym the last few years. Two years ago if I had sat like that I would have had a roll of flesh around my middle, and generally looked like a tired middle-aged guy, but thanks to my time at the gym I had a nice flat well muscled stomach, and even with my half-hard cock making itself known I felt confident with the way I looked, even in front of a woman who was a stranger. "I guess I won't get my walk up to the box today. Some days it's all the exercise I get," I said, smiling.

"You don't stay in that kinda shape just walking to the mailbox. I've seen you at the gym a few times," she said with a little smile.

"Oh, you go to Mitch's place?" I said, thinking to myself she did look familiar.

"Yeah, not as much as I should though," she said. "I just signed up a few months ago."

"Be patient. It took me a year or so to get rid of my old beer gut," I said. "Not that I think you...I mean you don't have..." I was blushing a little at my faux pas, and Mail Girl laughed.

"Don't worry, I know what you mean," she said, smiling.

"Yeah, well, you look good I mean," I said, and this time it was Mail Girl who blushed a little. She suddenly looked shy, and I caught her stealing another quick glimpse of my nearly naked crotch.

I was slowly realizing she was really cute, even with the unflattering and loose fitting uniform. She was about my age, mid thirties, and had a killer smile.

"I gotta roll," she said as she turned to go. "It's big trouble if you stay stationary for too long. Big brother is watching."

"Hey!" I yelled as she was hustling back to her little truck. "You're at the end of your route right? Are you almost done for the day? Come on back for a beer and a swim if you want. I promise I'll have clothes on."

"You swim with your clothes on?" she yelled back with a smile, and she waved and drove away in a cloud of dust.

It was a long shot, but I thought I'd throw it out there. When I was a kid my dad used to say, "You can't catch a fish if you don't have a hook in the water."

———————

An hour later I was firing up the gas grill on the patio when I heard a car coming. It was a dark purple Mazda Miata. When it came to a stop I could see it was Mail Girl, and she emerged from the little convertible wearing tight jeans, a silky white camisole top with little spaghetti straps, and purple flip-flops on her feet. As promised, I was fully clothed, with long cargo shorts and a rumpled old white linen shirt. I really wasn't expecting her to show up, so it was just my usual attire.

"Hey! Mail Girl! I'm glad you came back! Wow, you clean up nice!" I said as she walked over. She smiled appreciatively.

She looked completely different out of her uniform. Her long brown hair was down out of the ponytail she had earlier, her legs looked longer in the tight jeans, and she had on just enough eye make-up to say, 'I'm going out tonight'. She was what other women would call slightly pear shaped, which is probably why she thought she needed time at the gym, but she looked plenty sexy to me, with a nice round ass a guy could get a good hold of and nice tits pushing out her loose top.

"Sorry I called you Mail Girl, but I don't even know your name," I said as she came to a stop a few feet from me.

"You can call me Mail Girl if you want, and I'll just call you Mr. Package." She winked and flashed me that killer smile.

"Oh jeez, how embarrassing. I was sleeping and must have been dreaming right before you showed up," I said, blushing and hiding my down-turned face with my hand.

After she got done laughing she extended her hand. "My name's Sherry," she said. "Nice to meet you John."

"How do you feel about hamburgers?" I said as I shook her soft hand, trying to break through the awkwardness of the 'Mr. Package' comment. I was glad hot dogs weren't on the menu.

"Love 'em," she said.

"I've got beer, iced tea, wine..."

"Beer's good," she said. "Nothin' tastes better after a hot dusty day on the trail."

I brought out a couple cold ones, and we sat down on two old Adirondack chairs on the patio while the grill heated up.

"Pretty cool place you've got here. Are you vacationing?" she asked.

"No, I live here full time," I said. "It's a bit rustic, but I love it."

"It's so private. Good for layin' around in your skivvies," she said with a smile.

"I was lucky I was wearing that much," I laughed. "On a different day I might have been

really

embarrassed. You would have seen a streaker running across the lawn."

"Well I'm sorry I missed that! Who knew there was so much excitement in these woods," she laughed.

I got up to go get the food ready. "I don't have too much to go with the burgers. Do you like fresh tomatoes and homemade pickles?"

"Sounds perfect," she said. "Can I help?"

"No, but come on in. I'll give you a quick tour of the old place. Don't get too excited though, it's a bit of a bachelor pad."

"Oh this is nice!" she said as she followed me through the creaky old screen door.

"Yeah, it's a cool old place," I said. "Lots of character. I hate to change much 'cause I love it the way it is, but it really could use some updating and winterizing. When the wind blows across that frozen lake in the winter it can be pretty brutal. I've got two wood stoves though, and if it's not too windy out it's pretty cozy."

"Oh god, it must be beautiful here in the winter," she said. "It'd be fun to get snowed in here with someone warm."

"That would be fun..." I said as our eyes met. "Have a look around. I'll get those burgers made."

She wandered slowly through the living room, taking in the dusty old 'Adirondack style' ambiance. She seemed particularly interested in the artwork — oil paintings, etchings, photographs — and commented on one in particular.

"I love this painting," she said loudly, so I could hear her in my small kitchen, and I stuck my head out to see what she was looking at.

"Oh thanks, that's one of mine," I said. It was a large Cape Cod beach scene, a figurative portrait of a couple standing on a vast open beach, the kind of thing I do for a living.

"You're an artist?" she asked, clearly intrigued.

"Yup," I said. "Not as often as I should be though. I should have been working today instead of laying around in the sun."

I went back to prepping the food, and after a few quiet minutes I heard Sherry's voice again. "Is it all right if I play your old Gibson?" she asked, referring to the old L-00 acoustic guitar siting in a rack next to the couch.

"Sure," I said, poking my head around the corner. "Just go easy on her, she's my baby."

The sound of quiet finger-picking drifted into the kitchen. "Damn girl, that's beautiful playing," I said as I walked into the living room with a plate of raw hamburgers. "Bring that outside, let's throw these on the grill."

Sherry serenaded me while I sipped my beer and cooked in the shade of a huge old hemlock tree. My life was a bit of a bummer at that point, with loosing an old friend to cancer and my marriage breaking up a few years previously. That's when I had moved full time to the lake, determined to try something different. Female companionship had been pretty sparse since I had moved, so what was unfolding with Sherry felt really nice.

"Nice tune," I said as she finished up a pretty piece. "Did you write that?"

"Yeah, that's one I do with a friend of mine at the open mic night. She plays mandolin and sings. I don't sing much, just some harmony stuff once in a while."

We sat at a small round table in the shade and ate thick burgers with goat cheese and chives, big slices of ripe tomato with Balsamic vinegar and basil leaves, and my best homemade pickles. I broke out a bottle of Chianti, and the conversation and laughter flowed effortlessly. Every time Sherry took a bite of her juicy burger she leaned over her plate and I got a nice view of the lacy bra under her loose shirt. Ah, life's little pleasures...

When we finished eating I picked up the guitar and launched into a boisterous version of one of my usual country blues songs, Mississippi John Hurt's 'Candy Man,' about a guy who sells his nine inch candy stick to the ladies. Those old blues guys sure could write 'em. Sherry was grooving side-to-side in her chair, and slapping her hand on her knee to the beat, and I finished with my best big instrumental flourish at the end.

"Yeah! That was awesome!" she said with a huge smile. "I love those old blues! I wish I could play that style, it's got such an infectious groove."

"I'd love to teach you," I said. "It's a lot of fun once you get the hang of it."

"I'm gonna take you up on that. I haven't had a good lesson for a long time," she said, with a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. I felt blood rushing to my crotch, and I took a big gulp of Chianti.

"I brought my suit," she said. "What do you say we take that swim you promised me."

"Yeah, sounds good. It's gonna be a warm evening, perfect for a dip, and the lake warmed up nice this year," I said. "You can change down the hallway—bedroom, bathroom, take your pick. I'll take care of these dishes."

I quickly rinsed things off in the sink, and my mind raced wondering what Sherry was going to look like in a bathing suit.

"All ready," she said, leaning against the frame of the kitchen door in a little white bikini.

"Wow!...you look...wow..." I said, my voice trailing off as I took in the sight of her, trying not to be too much of a lecherous ogler.

"Every girl's favorite words," she smiled, a little shyly, and her nipples hardened before my eyes, threatening to burst through the thin material. My cock really started to thicken up as I imagined nibbling on them. 'Down boy, down!' I said to myself.

"Okay!" I said after an awkward pause, afraid my flustered nervousness was blatantly obvious. "Let me change real quick and I'll meet you down at the boathouse."

She was quickly out the door, embarrassed a little by her nipple eruption I think. I lingered in the kitchen long enough to watch her walk down the path to the boathouse, her ass jiggling in a fantastic way under the thin fabric of her bikini.

I changed into a swimsuit, grabbed two towels, and put four bottles of beer and some water in a small cooler. Sherry was up on the little roof deck above the boathouse scanning the lake when I arrived.

"The shore's pretty rocky here, it's not great for swimming. I usually take the boat out and swim off the platform on the back. Is that okay with you?"

"Sounds great," she said, and we went down the rickety stairs and into the ancient boathouse.

"Oh my God!" she said when she saw the boat in the darkness.

I opened up the big old counterbalanced door and the early evening sunlight streamed in off the lake. My pride and joy was sitting quietly, it's golden mahogany hull flashing brilliantly as the low angle of the sun illuminated it like a calendar photo.

"What the fuck!" she said quietly. "I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life!"

"It's a Hacker-Craft. My paintings have been selling really well the last few years, so I decided to splurge. My ex says it's my mid-life crisis," I laughed.

"That's what my friend says about my Miata. Who cares what they think. Life's supposed to be fun, right?" she said, running her hand over the smooth shiny wood deck.

I threw the cooler and towels in and I released the catch on the hoist and let the big hoist wheel spin through my hand, lowering the boat to the water. I held Sherry's arm as she stepped onboard, and her bikini clad body melted onto one of the sideways facing settees. She put one of her long legs up on it and said, "Damn! A girl could get used to this!"

The sight of her reclining languidly in her bikini was causing great quantities of blood to rush to my cock, so to get my mind off of her I went about getting the boat ready. Soon the engines were quietly rumbling and we were backing out into the fading sunlight.

"We've got about two hours of daylight left. You want to run down to the village and then we'll swim a little later?" I asked.

"I'm up for anything," she said with a smile. She joined me in the front seats, and we roared off down the smooth lake.

We stopped at a marina a few miles away and I filled the thirsty beast with gas. Two big V8 engines really sucked it down, but it was worth it for the enjoyment it gave me. The young high school kid working the fuel dock was quite taken with Sherry's little white bikini, and her hard nipples betrayed her excitement again.

"I think the boy likes you," I said after he walked away.

"I'm not used to wearing a bikini in public," she said. "It was a present to myself for sticking with the gym routine for three months. I'm still trying to get used to it."

"Trust me Sherry, you wear it well," I said, looking her over with an appreciative smile.

"I've got a ways to go, but thanks," she said, looking sideways at me with a shy smile.

"We should do it together. It's more fun to burn calories with a partner," I said. "The gym I mean," I added quickly, realizing my unintended double entendre, and I blushed again. I think I was blushing more often with this girl than I ever had in my life. Sherry said nothing, and just sat looking forward with her mouth curled up into a delicious grin.

We motored off down the lake again, cruising at full throttle for a while, the big 33 foot runabout rocketing along the smooth water at fifty miles-per-hour. We soon arrived at the village docks, which were buzzing with activity on a mid-summer Saturday evening. There was a bluegrass band playing in the gazebo and a lot of people milling around. We were moving through the water slowly, the big engines burbling in their deep bass voice.

"We can tie up and look around the docks, or head back out and go swimming. It's up to you," I said, knowing she was a little uncomfortable in her bikini.

"Let's stop," she said. "You've given me confidence."

"I think it was that teenage boy. I'll have to go thank him," I said with a smile.

"Yeah, well, that didn't hurt either," she smiled.

We tied up and walked around the docks admiring all the interesting water craft, and ate chocolate ice cream cones from a street vender. The sun had just gone down, and the sky was a lovely pink color, with purplish wispy clouds and a bright yellow horizon. We listened to the bluegrass band while we ate our ice cream, and it was about as perfect an evening as I could imagine.

A dapper elderly gentleman was admiring our boat when we got back to it. "She's a beauty," he said as we stepped onboard. I wasn't quite sure if he was talking about the boat, or Sherry in her bikini.

"She's a lot of fun," I said, figuring I'd give him an answer that worked both ways.

"Enjoy her," he said, winking at me as he cast off our lines, and our quietly rumbling engines pushed us slowly toward open water.

I got the big boat up on a plane, and backed it of to about fifteen miles-per-hour. We cruised not far of shore, admiring the 'big money' real estate near the village. There were lots of parties going on, and some good barbecue smells drifting on the evening air. One of the big estates was having a fancy wedding, with a huge tent decorated with twinkle lights and a band playing classic rock from the eighties. There was a lot of drinking going on, and as we passed by all the bridesmaids and groomsmen jumped off the dock into the water fully clothed. Sherry got a kick out of that.

I let Sherry take the wheel, and she took to it like an old pro. The daylight had faded into twilight, so I explained how the navigation lights worked, the red and the green and which side to pass on and all that, and she throttled up the engines and we flew towards the center of the big lake. She had a huge smile on her face, her long brown hair blowing in the wind.

I directed her toward a quiet uninhabited cove, and I was happy to see no one else was anchored there. We came to a stop and I threw the anchor over the side and tied it off. There was a wonderful silence when I switched off the big engines, and we moved back into the center cockpit, which is just a big seating area. It's bigger and more comfortable than most boats of this type, with two long settees facing each other. You have to climb up on the engine cover to get to the swim platform, but there's a nice ladder built-in to the transom to make it easier.

I switched on the stereo, pulled up some John Prine on the iPod I keep onboard, and cracked open two cold bottles of beer.

"Oh man, this thing's like pure luxury isn't it," she said.

"It is when you're onboard," I said.

"Jesus, you're a sweet talker, I'm gonna have to watch out for you," she said, and her smile grew into that huge man-killer I'd seen a few times already. Imagine Julia Roberts' smile and you're not too far off.

She laid back on the settee and stretched out her long legs. "This is comfortable enough to sleep on."

"Actually this whole area turns into like a king sized bed," I said. "Well, more of a place to sunbath really. I've never tried it, but it's pretty cool."

"A sunken bed! Holy shit, it's like an Austin Powers boat or something!" she said with a big smile.

"You make me horny baby!" I said with my best Austin Powers imitation, and Sherry laughed so hysterically beer came out of her nose. Her tits jiggled deliciously when she laughed hard.

"Oh my god that's so funny!" she said, still trying to get a hold of her uncontrollable laughter.

"Not exactly the response I was hoping for," I laughed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, finally able to hold her laughter inside. "You make me horny too baby," and she kissed me with her smiling, beer soaked face.