His hands move down, around her, the movement of his lips and his tongue becoming more passionate as he lifts her legs around him. She grips his broad shoulders excitedly, trying to keep kissing, but the feeling of being in his arms makes her grin and he draws back a moment.
He smiles back, “What?” He has this way he says it, throwing his chin crookedly upward, that makes her smile wider.
“You’re really strong,” she says.
“You think?” he replies modestly, but he flexes his arms, clearly pleased. One doesn’t spend hours at the gym without the hope of gaining appreciation. He kisses her again, pressing her against the door and she likes the feeling of being squeezed by his bulk. She likes the feeling of his hair between her fingers and his scruffy cheek beneath her thumb. She really likes the musky scent of him halfway through his workday mingling with faintly sweet cologne and a hint of tobacco smoke. Every time he stimulates another sense it dawns on her again that this is really happening, and she smiles.
His hand ventures into her high-visibility shirt, smiling back at her. “What?” he asks again.
“Nothing,” she replies, reaching down for her belt. She ducks through her uniform shirt, losing her hat with it, and lets them fall. To keep it fair, and because she has imagined it a thousand times, she pulls his shirt off, too.
“What?” he asks softly as she looks at his bare chest, taking in every detail.
“What, nothing,” she says. “What?”
“You look very happy.”
“You’re very hot,” she explains.
He chuckles and kisses her softly, “You too,” he says. His left hand finds her right breast, tracing her hardening nipple through her sports bra, his right hand stays beneath her butt.
She pulls her belt off, letting it fly toward the wall, and her route keys drop with a clunk. Her button is open, and her zipper is down. His hands go in around the back, gripping her butt tighter and sliding the navy-blue fabric down, but they reach an impasse, her legs reluctant to unwrap themselves from his torso for the moment required to remove her shorts. He lifts her, carries her to the bench, only two steps away, and lowers her carefully onto it, negotiating with her legs by offering a deeper kiss and a sensual massage of her sensitive breasts.
Finally, she straightens one leg so he can pull it up ahead of him and slide her shorts at least half free, knocking one shoe off in the process. He grins as he leans down to her, kisses her jaw, and puts his arms around her again. Pressed together crotch to lips, she can feel his manhood bulging eagerly with his jeans, throbbing against her belly. She reaches for it, and he looks at her with a smile that robs her of breath a moment. She can’t believe she’s so close to that smile.
A shifting in the light beyond the boxes should have warned them, but they aren’t paying attention to anything but each other. The Letter Carrier jolts to awareness when one of the mailboxes opens, fortunately too pinned to go rolling off the bench.
“Hello?” calls a frail voice through a box in the second row. “Are you there, dear?”
“Yeah,” she calls back, and Kareem’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, perhaps alarm. “Hi, Mrs. Smith. I have your package, just give me a second, okay?”
“Oh, thank you, dear,” Mrs. Smith says.
The Letter Carrier motions with her head that Kareem should get off her, and he isn’t fast enough so she hisses, “Get off a second?” as she shoves his shoulders.
He rolls to the side to let her up and she sits for the relay bag, snagging the tag first out of force of habit, but her satchel clip isn’t an easy reach so she discards it and pulls the drawstring hurriedly. Kareem leans against her, his lips at her neck, watching her work.
“How’s the weather today?” Mrs. Smith asks.
“It’s nice,” the Letter Carrier says, pulling a bundle from the burlap sack. The wrong one, naturally. She glances at Kareem as his hands slip around her waist but continues her desperate search.
“Oh? I heard it was quite cold today.”
“Uh…” she shakes her head at another wrong bundle, casting it aside. “It’s about ten degrees, I think. I like it like that.” She gasps, her eyes rolling, when Kareem cups her breasts. “It’s just about perfect.”
“Raining?” Mrs. Smith asks.
“Uuuhhhhh,” the Letter Carrier forces herself to make the moan sound thoughtful. “A little overcast,” she says. “I feel like there’s definitely moisture on the way.”
Kareem’s hot breath on her ear is even more exciting than finally finding the correct bundle, but doing that is a huge thrill. She pulls Mrs. Smith’s packet from its rubber band prison and breaks from Kareem’s sexy hands to reach the satchel and her scanner.
His hands find her again immediately as he follows her to his knees, running softly along her calves. She drops her expensive PDT on the ground. “Oops, this never happens,” she murmurs as she fumbles the retrieval, shivering ecstatically. His hands move to her thighs, and she doesn’t want to think about where his face must be as she scans and shakily pulls herself up to slide the small packet though the slot.
“Thanks so much, dear,” Mrs. Smith smiles through the tube as she empties it. “Have a wonderful day.”
“It’s going great so far,” the Letter Carrier assures her, smiling back as Kareem’s hands reach her ass. “You, too.”
The little door closes, and she turns to the man, who immediately takes her into his arms. He takes her plait in one big fist and gently tugs. Her head goes back and his hungry mouth on her neck is a revelation. “Your dedication is so fucking sexy,” he says.
“I can really deliver a package,” she agrees, breath coming harder, body getting hotter. “Can you?”
His shudder makes her shudder. “I knew,” he says, his low voice having a similar effect to the THC infused double-double she enjoys after work. “I only imagined, but I knew that you would make a pun.”
His admission intoxicates her further. “You imagined this?”
“Often,” he says. “I’ve wanted to deliver this package to you for a long time.”
She laughs as she opens his pants and reaches eagerly in. “Me too,” she says. “Mm, this package is nice and hard.”
“There’s a rock in there,” he says.
She laughs and he smiles, and her chest fills with heat again. That smile. “You know, don’t you?” she gasps, kissing him. “Your smile is a deadly weapon. It’s like being stabbed with desire.”
He laughs, kisses her, and smiles again. She’s melting, and she gently removes the much desired dick from his boxers. It brushes the moist fabric of her panties, pressing gently. “I smile because I am happy that I made you laugh,” he says. “You are so beautiful when you laugh.”
She blushes, laughing nervously, but is already so hot that it cools her down just a bit. She notes the shadows in the lobby, then the mailroom door secured only by the empty satchel leaning against it. She turns from him, leading by her braid in his hand to where she stands to hold the door and his other hand goes immediately into her panties, pulling them down.
His fingers slide easily between her moist lips; he spreads them as he steps close. His cock slides along her, then in.
The Letter Carrier remains quiet as the full length of him enters her and their pelvises nestle snugly. She hears the throbbing of her heart and the front door of the apartment building opening just beyond the unsecured latch. She bites her lip as his strong hands come around her body, moving over her belly and breasts as his dick throbs inside. Footsteps move away beyond the door, and Kareem begins to move his hips.
Her pulls her braid toward the door and kisses her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. “How’s that?”
“Mm, this package is just what I wanted, and delivered so skillfully,” she assures him softly, glancing down at his smirk. “It feels great when you slide it into my slot. I thought for a second it would be too tight, but it fits perfectly.”
He moans, thrusting harder, and she pushes her hips back to meet him. His hand slips down her body, pausing a moment to caress her butt, then resting his fingertips at her hips, he guides her harder against him to meet his thrusts. He reaches for her clit next, and she throws her head back to his shoulder. “You’re gushing wet,” he says. He mocks her gently, as he sometimes does, “‘I think there is moisture on the way.’ It’s fucking pouring out.” His words are a strike of lightning in the storm and she bucks as the electricity surges through her body.
She laughs breathily as he lifts her leg and guides her face toward his. He kisses her as he turns her so he can push her hard against the door, lifting her by their sex. She bounces on him, gripping his shoulders, and puts her mouth to his ear, bites it. “I’ve watched you, wanting you,” she admits, and his motions increase within her.
“Me too,” he agrees.
She tries not to scream when he bites her neck softly, and the energy of holding it in spreads out through her body, making every part of her shake. Her flesh trembles around him in excitement, rapture. She cries out, “Ah, Kareem! Yes!” when she comes on his dick, and he makes a strangled groaning noise into her cheek as he tenses within her and floods her with his warmth. Panting a moment, they enjoy the solidarity between them, the unity of their bodies and sensations, and she feels incredible shame in these thoughts; CUS drivers aren’t even in The Union. He lets the last of his lust pump into her, and then he slips away, leaving hot liquid behind.