"My stomach swam with the memory of that steamy shower.I could feel her thumb inside me, my face pressed against the showertiles. I pressed myself ag...inst my front door, duplicating my positionfrom that first encounter. My ass arched out behind me rocking back andforth.'Helpess as a schoolgirl...what would Heather think if she saw you now...'my wife had said. Then came Heather's words:'That's a good girl, now spread your legs wider for me, princess,' and Idid as my memory beckoned, sliding. Sam? Sam who? Oh God in heaven no. Sam, the voice fitted. Sam the postman. Oh Jesus on the cross! Sam was over fifty, 5' 10”, thin as a rake and had a pock marked face under a head of unruly pepper pot hair. Sometimes he acted the local yokel, sometimes it wasn't an act. He may have been tall and thin, but his appendage was short and fat. Sam had been delayed that morning by a flat battery in the van. With one thing and another, he was two hours behind, and getting more so now. Not getting an. More

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