May Evers, a lonely housewife in mid 1950s suburbia, has wanted someone to make her feel special for years. One day, while she was enjoying a long bath with a sexy novel, the doorbell rang. Setting milk bottles on her step was Ricky, a young, strapping, gentle milkman filling in for the regular guy. In a moment of impulse, May invited Ricky inside and before long, she found what she had needed for so, so long in the arms of the milk man.
Warning: This erotic, slow-burning 6500 word short story features a lonely, adulterous housewife, a kind, gentle, and incredibly sexy milkman, mutual masturbation, explicit oral sex (both ways), nostalgia for a time long gone and a woman who finds a romantic outlet for her long dormant sensual, sexual nature. Enjoy!
What the Hell are you thinking, May? She asked herself. She’d been standing at the front door, nipples hard against her dress, pussy still wet from her morning exercise, for a full minute now. “Is there something I can help you with, ma’am? Maybe need me to put this milk away for you?”
Her thoughts went to Walter. Her thoughts went, immediately, back to Ricky. She knew what she wanted. Anyway, she reminded herself, this isn’t the dark ages. “Yes, please, that would be wonderful.” She closed the door after him, watching his hard, muscled ass move under his blue uniform trousers.
She directed Ricky to the kitchen in the back of the house and led him to the icebox. He really was a nice young man, although he seemed nervous, at least a little bit, because he didn’t seem to be able to stop stammering when he spoke. It was cute. As he bent to deposit the milk jars, the impressive size of his arms finally hit her. His shoulders tapered from his neck and were apparent under his shirt. His biceps were so large that his uniform top seemed slightly ill-fitting, and his forearms bulged out under the rolled-up cuffs. She couldn’t help herself. She needed someone to love her like Walter used to love her.
May moved in close behind Ricky, who sensed her and immediately froze, as though he were in a panic. She pressed her breasts against his back and ran her arms down his, relishing each dip and rise. His skin was softer than she expected, covered in fine hair and browned from the sun. She shuddered when her fingertips touched the backs of his hands and he turned to face her, holding her hands to his chest. “Ricky,” she said under her breath, “how can I repay you for putting those big, heavy milk jars away?” She kissed his hands, pulled hers free, and put them on the sides of his freshly shaven face. She ran a finger over his lips, down his chin, and tugged at the first button on his work shirt.
“Uh... ma’am, I... uhm...” Ricky stammered. May smiled, understanding what he meant. “Shhhh...” she said, pressing a finger to his lips, “I think I know what I can do for you.” She traced her finger back up after undoing his button and stood on her tip toes to kiss him. Ricky’s shyness began to fade when May put one hand on the back of his head to pull him closer, and one hand on the front of his pants to give his bulge a little squeeze. He gasped out loud when her hand closed around his thickening girth. He met her kiss with his own and pulled her closer to him with a large, strong hand on the small of her back. When he put his hand to her waist, he realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
About Francis Ashe
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Published April 6, 2012
by Francis Ashe.
Erotica, Literature & Fiction.