Mr. Postman Bring Me a Dream

Chapter 1

This is my first erotic story. The only other erotica I have ever written was a very steamy letter I wrote to my wife after three months of being deployed in Desert Storm. I give my heartfelt thanks to my editor, LadyCibelle, for her comments and encouragement. Enjoy.

"Hello Mrs. Rawly. Come on back and let's see what we can do for you today." Said Cindy *I hope she isn't in a bad mood today* Cindy thought as Mrs. Rawly stood up from the waiting area and put down a magazine. Cindy waited until Mrs. Rawly had passed by her and then followed her to the little cubicle she called home for 40 hours a week. It was Wednesday and the week was half over. Cindy was looking forward to Friday and two days off. No special plans for the weekend. It would just be nice to be off her feet dressed in something more comfortable snuggled up in her overstuffed chair and reading her book. Her daughter would be with her father this weekend and she would be alone. *Heaven* she sighed as she thought about it.

"Dingaling" went the bell on the front door as someone entered into the salon. Cindy looked up. It was just the postman. She looked back at her task at hand, but something made her suddenly look back. It wasn't the regular postman. He was a lot younger than the regular postman and a lot cuter. *I'll probably not see him again* she thought, *he's probably just filling in.* As she worked on Mrs. Rawly, her mind imagined what the new postman would look like naked and she grinned. The fantasy continued through the rest of the day and made the time fly.

The next day was much like the last, and inevitably would be like the next. It was just a job, but like most jobs, once you get the basics down it becomes routine. Routine then turns into boredom, and boredom to drudgery. To make the job more interesting she spent time making herself up in the morning and dressing in tasteful, but provocative dresses. She had spent a small fortune building her wardrobe and was proud of her collection. *At least when I go to work I look pretty, even though I might not feel pretty* she whispered to herself as she looked at herself in the mirror. All the other hairdressers wore pragmatic utilitarian garb. She didn't want to be like all the rest.

She was lost in her work when the front door opened. She looked up to see who was coming in. *It's him again* she thought and made a small gasp. Her customer asked "Everything OK?" obviously concerned that Cindy had made a mistake. "Yes, I just swallowed wrong." She replied. She felt her heart begin to race. All her fantasizing the day before was triggered anew as she watched him deliver the mail and then leave. She watched him through the window as he walked back to his vehicle. *What a fine ass he has* she thought wickedly *I bet he's a good fuck* she surprised herself with the wicked little thought. The rest of Thursday went quite quickly again as she thought about the new postman.

Friday she was still thinking about him and as the time came close to when the mail was delivered she anxiously watched out the window. *Keep your mind on your work* she had to repeatedly say to herself. She couldn't afford to make mistakes. She had built up a good clientele and mistakes would utterly decimate her schedule if the customer was a gossip. She tried to distract herself by talking more to her client, but her mind wasn't in it. She watched as the postal truck pulled in front of the salon. *Its him again* she squealed inside her head. She had to stop what she was doing and rested her hands on the shoulders of the woman sitting in the chair "Give me a few seconds" she said as she watched him. Her customer was watching her in the mirror as saw what she was staring at. "My, he is quite a hunk, isn't he?" she said to Cindy. Cindy realized she had been caught. Quickly she recovered her composure, "They don't make many like that anymore." She retorted, and then giggled. Their conversation through the end of the appointment focused on men in generally, but the postman specifically.

From that time on she couldn't wait to get to work. It seemed like the hours drug on before he came and flew after he was gone. She always dressed with him in mind, wanting to get his attention. But he never stopped to talk. He was just in and out, every day except Tuesdays when a different postman came. *Tuesdays must be his day off* she said deductively.

One day he actually stopped and waited to talk with someone. Diane was the first hairdresser finished and she attended him. Cindy couldn't hear what was said, nor was she going to ask. She didn't want any of the other women talking about her and trying to be matchmaker.

The next Tuesday Cindy was busy with a woman and not particularly attentive to any other activity in the salon. It was shortly before lunch and she was looking forward to putting her feet up for an hour or so. She glanced up just in time to see Diane escort the postman into the back. He wasn't dressed in any uniform today and he looked gorgeous. She had trouble keeping her mind on her work during the whole time he was there. What's more, she felt herself getting turned on as she watched Diane trim his hair. *I would do anything to be Diane right now* she thought. Diane got finished with him before Cindy got finished with her customer. He was gone, again, and she had been unnoticed.

That evening when she got home she was still turned on and it wasn't going away. As soon as she got her daughter to bed, she filled the tub with water and slipped into the folds of the warm liquid, engulfing her in comfort. She closed her eyes and willed herself to relax. She stroked her abdomen and inched towards her pubis and mons. She twisted her pubic hair in her fingers, teasing herself, holding back from pleasuring herself. This heightened her desire and she felt her vulva engorge and swell. She thought about the postman and played all the fantasies she had constructed over the past several weeks. She played across her breasts with her other hand, finding, then teasing her nipples. She pinched and flicked them, and rubbed them between her fingers. She was aware of her heart beating faster. Her lips parted and she began to breathe through her mouth to get more oxygen to her hot blood. Her fingers eased further into her crotch finding the folds of her vulva. She parted her labia and inserted her finger into her vagina. Her pelvis began to move involuntarily and the efforts filled her with pleasure. She quickened the stroking of her vulva and nipples. Finally she found her clitoris hard and erect. What a wonderful little nub that piece of flesh was! She grabbed her dildo she had placed on the side of the tub and inserted it into her vaginal cavity, shoving it deep inside her pushing her cervix back into her pelvis. She worked the pseudo penis in and out with one hand and stimulated her clitoris with the other. The dildo did its magic in a special place on the roof of the vaginal vault that sends shocks of pleasure, as the tip of the dildo massaged the sensitive tissue. Skillfully working both erotic zones, Cindy eventually brought herself to full climax. She flexed her body as she came making grunting squeaky noises and she held her breath and forced air out of her lungs with each wave of ecstasy.

She lay there in the water motionless feeling the stress of the day drain from her. She realized the temperature of the water was decreasing and it was time to pull herself out of the tub. As she stood she felt the increased pull of gravity as she left the buoyancy of the water. She felt weak and heavy. She dried herself and slipped in to her night clothes.

Cindy went into the kitchen and poured herself a nightcap and then walked through her apartment checking the doors and windows and turning off the lights. She peeked in on her daughter who slept oblivious to the world around her. *What a dear sweet soul she is* Cindy thought. She left the door ajar and a night light on. Finally she climbed into bed and turned out the light. She was still horny and masturbated one more time before she fell into deep dream filled sleep.

The days played on much the same. The postman still had not discovered her. She didn't want to force herself on him and scare him off. All she could think to do was be patient and hope that the chemistry would eventually happen.

Tuesday morning the phone rang. Cindy hadn't gotten out of bed yet. "Hello" she answered sleepily.

"Cindy, this is Diane. I'm not feeling well today and I was wondering if you could take any of my clients that are scheduled for today?" asked Diane. Diane was good to Cindy and found opportunities to give her extra hours.

"Sure Diane, who do you need me to do?" Cindy responded. Cindy sat up and opened her schedule book. She had a few holes in her schedule and as Diane read off the names and times Cindy accepted or rejected the opportunities. There were some of Diane's clientele that she wouldn't do even if she was paid extra.

"At 11:40 I have John, you know, our postman?" Diane stated.

Cindy froze, her heart instantly in her throat and the wind knocked out of her.

Diane sensed a change in Cindy and asked, "You OK girl?"

Cindy fought to regain composure, "A....sure...I just got something stuck in my throat. Give me a few seconds to recover." She took a deep breath and closing her eyes visualized the anxiety leaking from her frame. "OK," she said "Who was at 11:30 again?"

"The postman, John, is at 11:40. Can you take him?" Diane asked again.

Cindy looked at her schedule and she was already scheduled at that time, "Sure, Diane, I can take him." She wasn't going to let this opportunity pass her by.

After Diane got off the phone Cindy called her 11:20 appointment and rescheduled. *How am I going to make it through this day* she commiserated. Getting ready for work was impossible. Nothing was going right. She pulled out her favorite dress, a short red plaid skirt with a black strapless bodice. She was saving this dress for just such a day. As she walked out of the apartment with her daughter in tow she stopped at the full length mirror to check herself to make sure she looked ok. A quick inspection met her approval and she left for work.

*

Chapter 2

I remember delivering mail to a beauty salon. They did haircuts on men as well as all that stuff that women get done to themselves to make them pretty. After a month of delivering mail there I decided to see what it was like to have my hair cut by a woman instead of a barber. As I delivered mail there one day I asked them about getting an appointment. The lady I talked with was quite pleasant and seemed pleased to put me on her schedule.

It was a Tuesday, my day off, and I was a little nervous. All the hairdressers there were women and I had never seen a man in any of the chairs. I sat in the waiting area. Most of the magazines were women's magazines, Cosmopolitan, Vogue, Women's day, etc. I picked up a Cosmo and perused it. Cosmo always had impossibly beautiful women in it. I was enjoying the pictures when a woman came in to the waiting area and called out my name. I recognized her as the woman I had made the appointment with. She was an average middle-aged woman. Not what I would call a real looker, but someone that I would feel comfortable with. She was pleasingly conversational and it was easy to talk with her. Her name was Diane. She walked me into a backroom with salon style chairs backed against large sinks and sat me down in one.

"What's going to happen here?" I asked.

She smiled and said "I'm going to wash your hair before I cut it.

She then put a plastic cover over my chest and fastened it around my neck. I've never had my hair washed before I had it cut. Whenever I have gone to a barber I'd just sit, they would cut and I'd be done. It was a new experience to have someone shampoos my hair before I got it cut. It actually felt really nice and helped to relax me. When she was finished she helped me out of the chair and led me to a more traditional salon chair similar to what I was used to in barbershops.

"How do you want me to cut your hair?" she asked.

I answered, "Just trim it up. I don't want too much taken off."

The time in the chair was relaxing. Diane had a soothing tranquil quality to her voice. The touch of a woman's hands in my hair practically put me to sleep. When the haircut was done she asked me if it was ok. I looked in the mirror and admired the good job she had done. She then escorted me back to the sink and my hair was washed again. *I could learn to like this* I thought.

I thanked Diane, paid her and made another appointment with her for two weeks. As I walked out of the salon I reminisced about how pleasant the experience had been and looked forward to the next time.

I had my hair cut every two weeks for several months. Diane and I developed a good working relationship. She knew exactly what I wanted in a haircut and she did a very good job.

One day as I was sitting in the waiting area, looking at the latest Cosmo, I heard my name called, but it wasn't Diane. I looked up and there waiting for me was a much younger woman. I was stunned. She was gorgeous. What struck me was not just her physical beauty but also her clothes. She was wearing a dress, not slacks like what Diane and the other women wore. It was a red plaid full skirt, the type that if she were to twirl around it would fly up and show everything underneath. There were several layers to it as it stood out rather than lay limply against her thighs. The edges of the under layers were lacy and very feminine. It only came to her mid thigh showing off her very shapely legs. She was wearing high top black nylons and I could see a hint of the lace on the top of the socks. The bodice of the dress was black, strapless and tight. It revealed the size and shape of her bosom and some nice cleavage. Her hair was the color of honey and shoulder length. It was nicely styled and bounced as she walked. Her face was made up just right, not too much and just enough to accentuate her assets. Her nails were long and dark red. I was stunned. I didn't really know what to say. My heart was beating at a fast gallop, and I was a little short of breath.

"Where's Diane?" I asked

"She called in sick today. I had some holes in my schedule and could take a few of her appointments. It looks like I'm twice blessed to have my schedule full and to have such an attractive customer. Come on back." She replied

"I don't think I've ever seen you here before." I said as I followed her.

She turned and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Cindy. I've worked here for a couple of years. I have the cubical at the very end, next to the window." She stuck out her hand and I shook it. She then made a simple remark, "I've seen you before. You're the postman."

We didn't say any more as she put me in the chair I usually sat in. She had me look in the mirror. "How do you want it today?" she asked

I replied, "Just, trim it up." She was standing behind me and I could see her in the mirror. I willed myself to look at her eyes and not anything else. It seems women know exactly what you are looking at. I didn't want to look like I was lusting after her so I stared her right in the eyes.

"Follow me." She said invitingly and led me back to the shampoo chair. She put the plastic sheet around my neck and had me lay back so my head was in the sink. I closed my eyes so I wouldn't be staring at her. She rinsed my hair with warm water. Every time she touched me it was exhilarating. I could have let her run her fingers through my hair all day. I opened my eyes when she put on the shampoo and was working it in. Her bust was a few inches away from my face. I could see down her cleavage and see that she had no bra on. I watched as she breathed, her chest raising and lowering. I could see tan lines in her cleavage. Her top was velvet that looked more like suede than velvet. It didn't reveal much detail when I was standing several feet from her, but now I could see where her nipples were raising the fabric of her top. It seemed to me that they were raised more than normal. She seemed to be either cold or excited. Her breasts were natural, no augmentation here.

Something dropped into the sink and I heard her whisper "Oops." As she leaned forward to pick up whatever she had dropped her left breast came in contact with my cheek. "Oh, I'm sorry" she apologized as he quickly stepped back. I just as quickly shut my eyes pretending that nothing had happened that she needed to be sorry for.

"For what?" I asked.

"I dropped the sprayer and when I picked it up I bumped into you, I hope it didn't bother you," came her explanation. The reply was so innocent I'm not sure she realized what it was she had done.

"I really didn't notice" I lied. The visual feast and her supple breast on my left cheek had caused my penis to engorge and push my loose trousers out. Now I was embarrassed. I worried that she or some other woman in the salon would notice. She finished by drying my hair with a towel. She removed the plastic sheet and assisted me out of the chair. I followed her back into the main area of the salon. My brain was hyper alert and I could not help notice the movement of her body as she walked. My penis was making a nuisance of itself but there was nothing I could do without drawing more attention. I sat in the chair and diverted my eyes from looking at her, trying to find something to take my mind off what was transpiring. As I sat down I looked at the pictures in the mirror. I saw Diane and her family. She even had pictures of her grandchildren. I didn't think Diane was old enough to be a grandmother.

I asked Cindy, "Do you have any children?"

"Yes", she said. "I've got a little girl." Surprisingly she reached towards the mirror and slid a picture of her and her daughter from behind one of Diane's pictures. No husband. I wasn't about to ask.

"What a pretty little girl. How old is she?" I queried.

"She's five." Came her simple answer.

"How come you have a picture at this mirror? This is Diane's station isn't it?'" I ventured.

"Diane usually asks me to fill in when she can't be here. She is a bit like a mother to me."

She began cutting my hair. I just closed my eyes as she worked. The feeling was electric and I had a hard time keeping my mind off the experience of her breast on my cheek and the image of her bosom as she stood over me and washed my hair. I even found myself fantasizing over her nylons and seeing her spin around showing off her panties and stocking tops. If anyone were watching my crotch they would have known that I was excited.

Cindy must have noticed. At first I thought she was just being clumsy because I felt her breast move across the back of my head, but it kept happening. One time she put her hands on either side of my head and pressed my head against her chest between her breasts. She looked at me in the mirror and said, "How do you like it?" I looked at her eyes in the reflection of the mirror and she was looking at my eyes. I thought she was referring to the haircut and I responded with, "looks great." She got a smile on her face and I watched her gaze slip down to a lower point. She was taking her time cutting my hair. Several times I looked at her in the mirror and caught her looking at my crotch.

Suddenly she said, "Excuse me; I've got to go pee." And she hurried into the back of the salon. It never ceases to amaze me how casually women can say they have to go pee. For guys we have to make up some crazy statement like 'gotta see a man about a horse'.

It took her a while to come back and as I looked around the salon I noticed that the salon was emptying out. I think everyone was leaving for a lunch break. She came back and continued working on my hair. Soon we were the only two left in the salon and Cindy went to the door, locked it and put a sign on the door.