My brother and I both had a rostered day off and were just bumming around the house, catching up on housework and things like that. Just after lunch I wandered out to the mailbox to see if any snail mail had been delivered.
There was one thick envelope in the mailbox and I glanced at the addressee to see if it was for me or my brother. The answer was it was for neither of us but for some stranger. I looked at the envelope with a touch of confusion and then spotted the problem. The idiot postman had delivered the letter to the wrong address. It should have been posted next door.
If you're wondering why I didn't recognise the name of my next door neighbour the answer is quite simple. I hadn't met them yet, seeing they only moved in a week ago. All I knew about them was that they were a young couple.
I ambled along to the neighbours, intending to post the letter in their mailbox. You may have gathered from my descriptions of my activities, bumming around, wandering over, ambling along, that I'm not actually a ball of fire. I tend to just take things easy, although I still manage to get things done. I just see no need to get in an unholy sweat about things when calm and steady brings about the same result.
It appeared that the young lady who'd moved in next door didn't follow the same philosophy. I'd barely started to stick the envelope in her mailbox and she came charging out of the house, demanding to know what I was doing.
"Posting a letter," I pointed out, holding the letter up for her to see.
"I can see that," she retorted, "but why are you posting a letter in my mailbox?"
"Ah, because it's addressed to you?" I suggested.
"Well why do you have a letter that's addressed to me?" she asked, holding out her hand for the letter.
"Because it was put in my mailbox," I explained. "You have to watch the mail you get. Our postie is either dumb or dyslectic and frequently puts things in the wrong box. We all tend to check what we've got and move it to the correct box."
I waved my hand as I spoke, indicating that the 'we' I mentioned referred to the whole street.
"Why doesn't someone complain to the Postal Service?" she asked, trying to grab the letter out of my hand, not succeeding due to said hand grandly waving about at the time.
"Someone did. The postie just claimed they were being racist and it wasn't his fault."
The poor girl looked confused.
"How can complaining about the postal service be racist?"
"A good question but the answer is it doesn't matter. Once racism has been mentioned the complaint is dismissed so we still have to sort out the occasional incorrectly posted letter."
"What's going on Mike?"
My brother had seen me chatting up a sweet young thing and come out to find out what was going on.
"Just the idiot postie again," I told him. "Posted the young lady's letter in our box and I was delivering it to her. I'd introduce you to her but I don't know her name."
"I'm Megan. Can I please have my letter?"
"Hi, Megan. I'm Mike. This oaf is my brother, Rob. We're easy to tell apart as I'm the handsome one. Of course you can have your letter. That's why I brought it over."
"So, do you work or are you a lady of leisure?" Rob asked. "Normally we'd both be at work but today's our RDO, so here we are."
"I work. It's just that I've got a few days off to finish up the moving and setting up the house. I go back to work next Monday."
I could see that Rob was running his eye over Megan, nodding appreciatively why he did so. I couldn't blame him. I'd done precisely the same when she first came out, though not as blatantly as Rob. She was certainly worth looking at.
Megan wasn't very tall but was slender, pixyish you might say. For all that she had the proper padding in the right places. She had dark hair and dark eyes and was currently rather attractively dishevelled, probably from her housework, but it certainly added to her attractiveness.
"What do you think, Mike? Worth asking?"
"Oh, definitely," I agreed, "but I think I'd better be the one to ask. I have a more subtle touch than your crude self."
"A matter of opinion. My right one versus your wrong one, but go ahead. I'm ready for a laugh."
Megan was looking confused so I explained wat was on our minds.
"What Rob wants me to suggest is that since we're both at loose ends and you obviously need a break from the tedious work of sorting out your house, you might like to come over to our place? We'll give you fifty each for the privilege of undressing you and playing with you for a while."
Megan wasn't looking confused anymore. I think stunned would be a better description. She lifted her hand and waved it in front of us, probably to show off her rings. Personally, I consider this sort of thing a good sign. She hadn't rejected the proposition out of hand, even if she didn't realise it.
"You do realise I'm married?" she asked. "Anyway, people don't make that type of suggestion to women they've just met. They just don't."
"We do and, yes, we know you're married. That's part of the reason for our suggestion."
"What? What has my being married have to do with it?"
"Married women are a lot safer. They know what to do and they're not going to start stalking us afterwards. They know it's just a once off diversion and they get themselves a little spending money."
"You're saying that women actually accept that type of crude suggestion? I don't believe it."
"So much for you thinking you were being subtle," scoffed Rob. "As to women accepting our offer, surprisingly yes. I was totally shocked the first time one accepted."
Megan now had an air of general disbelief.
"You're kidding, right? Why would any woman agree to such a thing?"
"A variety of reasons, apparently. Oddly enough the money isn't one of them. They tend to use the money as an excuse rather than the reason."
"Well what reasons do they have?"
Megan seemed genuinely curious so I tried to explain.
"Let's see. There was one girl who agreed but only on the condition that we spank her first. Another who wanted to watch herself being taken in a mirror. Another girl agreed only if we let her get on top and ride us. Another wanted to know what it would be like to be in a threesome. Some exhibitionism crops up now and then. Oh, and some voyeurism. One woman insisted on bringing along a friend so they could watch each other doing it. Maybe they want to try a position before getting their husbands to try it. Like I said, many different reasons."
"And all these women agree to you stripping them and, ah, you know?"
"Again it varies. Some really want to be naked and can't wait to strip in front of a couple of men. Others want us to undress them. Some only agree to partial undressing. You know, lower their panties and bending over. We're agreeable to whatever they want, although I do prefer full nudity."
"Do you remember Mrs Prude?" Rob asked with a laugh. "Wouldn't remove a single stitch. Insisted that we just ease the crotch of her panties to the side and take her from behind. She didn't even want us to get undressed, insisting we keep our clothes on and take her from behind. Not that all that seemed to stop her from enjoying our attentions."
