'Being a postman around these parts is the best job I could have,’ Dave tells himself. ‘All these La-Di-Da people with their nice houses and big shiny cars parked on the drive. Two cars most of them. Little do they know that the postman sometimes cums twice.’

Sitting here in my car in the shadows between the street lights and trees, no one can see me unless they are really looking hard. And they don’t look. They’re too busy getting on with their La-De-Da lives. They’ve got their neighbourhood watch brigade to look out for them anyway. For what use does that lot have? A bunch of timid geriatrics, who would run a mile if they so much as heard a cat fart somewhere in the shadows. There are the houses with security cameras and security lights of course, but if you study the houses as much as I do when I’m out on my rounds during the day, you get to know which ones to steer well clear of. That house opposite – Mr. and Mrs. No kids Jones. More money than sense that pair. No security system, a dark driveway shielded by big trees, and only a simple latch-lock on the front door. You can learn a lot being a postman.

This pair, the Jones’s, are in there now getting all tarted up to go out for Friday night dinner. They do it every Friday night. Same time and probably the same restaurant. They don’t give a thought I suppose, that being creatures of habit leaves them so vulnerable.

Here they come now. Same old routine. A little lamp on the side table is switched on in the hall to help them fumble their way back in if they are a bit pissed. No worries about drinking and driving, that pair. They’re above the law, their sort.

OK. Front door open. Closed. Car doors open. Both Jones’s getting in. A flash of her panties as she swings her legs into the car. Doors closed. Car lights on. Car reverses out of the drive, then away up the street. Time for me to make my move. I’ve only got an hour to do what I do. They never stay out any longer than that. A quick meal, guzzle some wine, and straight back home.

Here we go. Front door opened with the edge of my bank card. Piece of piss that. Close it quickly but silently. Empty rucksack on my shoulder, little torch in hand. Straight up the stairs. No point in messing around looking downstairs. Into the bedroom at the front of the house. I know it’s theirs because I saw Mrs. La-Di-Da Jones in her panties and bra taking her time to pull a dress over her head earlier.

I’m sure she did that in the hope that somebody saw her. It probably turns her on imagining that somebody is out there in the dark, getting off on watching her, wanking at the sight of her in her little panties. Why she would want to wear such skimpy panties to go out for a meal beats me. I suppose that once she has poured a bottle of wine down her throat, she’ll start flashing them at her husband as soon as they’re back in the car, maybe rubbing herself, sticking a couple of fingers in her wet twat and then pushing them in his mouth for him to lick off her juice, trying to turn him on in the car so that by the time they get home, he will be hard and ready to give the slut a good fucking. That’s if he hasn’t drunk a bottle of wine as well and can’t get it up. I expect if that happens she’ll frig herself off instead, or get one of her dildos out and use that.  I expect she’s got a drawer full of dildos and stuff.

Anyway, time to get on.

“Hey Frank, I really need a good fuck,” Sue Jones says to her husband a little louder than necessary as she swings her legs out of the car, when they’re back home on the drive. She’s touching herself through the crutch of her panties, to make sure she’s good and wet.

“Ok honey,” Frank whispers in reply. “But no more talking now. You know what the next-door neighbours are like. Nosey bastards. I expect they even listen through the walls while were shagging. It wouldn’t surprise me the way they blab, that half the neighbourhood even knows how long it takes me to cum.”

Inside the house now and Sue switches on the overhead hall light.

“Frank look. There are dirty boot prints on the carpet, and they’re heading towards the stairs.”

“Shh,” Frank replies quietly. “You stay down here and I’ll go and take a look.”

He picks up the big heavy metal torch that he keeps on the hall table and after slipping off his shoes, tip-toes up the stairs, following the boot prints towards the front bedroom.

“What the fuck!” he shouts when he takes in the site that confronts him, illuminated only by his torch. He hasn’t switched on the lights as He hopes to catch the intruder before He alerts him to his presence. Then he realizes that he’s screwed up on the surprise front though by shouting ‘what the fuck’ as he entered the room. He can’t see the intruder. What he does see are several drawers in his dresser pulled open and odd items of clothing and his male masturbator sleeve on the floor. He swings around and sees that the drawers in his wife’s dresser are in the same state, then notices the panties spread all over the bed. Around twenty pairs of them. He also sees a couple of his wife’s sex toys amongst the panties, as well as a pile of what are obviously a man’s clothes sat at the bottom of the bed which he knows are not his. Then he hears a muffled sneeze from under the bed.

“Come out of there, you bastard!” He shouts. “And no tricks or I’ll stove your head in with my torch. Stay downstairs, Sue. I’m dealing with this!”

Fuck! I’ve never been caught before. I suppose I’d better do what he wants. Shit. So here I am standing in front of Mr. La-De-Da wearing nothing but a pair of his wife’s lacy white panties with cum in them. He’s put the bedroom light on now and is just silently staring at me. This is not looking good. Wait a minute. He’s got a hard-on and he’s rubbing it through his trousers. Oh, I get it. He’s getting turned on seeing me like this. What do I do now, offer to give him a hand job if he doesn’t call the police?

“Right you little shit,” says Frank, pushing the bedroom door closed. “This is what is going to happen. You are going to stand there in those panties until I tell you it’s ok to move. I‘m going to straighten up these other bits and pieces that are on the bed and put them away. Then you’re going to tip that rucksack upside down so that I can check that you haven’t stolen anything.”

He’s finished putting his wife’s panties away now although he has left one pair on the bed. This is strange. He’s pulled his prick out of the front of his trousers. It’s standing straight out and it is huge. I have to admit, it’s giving me a bit of a twitch in my scrotum just looking at it.  He’s masturbating. He’s actually standing in front of a burglar and masturbating.

Now he’s picked up the panties from the bed and he’s handing them to me. He’s pulled his trousers and underpants right off now and sat on the bed, still rubbing that massive prick of his.’

“Right this is what is going to happen now,” he tells me. “You’re going to kneel in front of me, wrap those panties around my prick and wank me until I cum in them.”

I am doing as he says. I’ve got no choice. I’m in his house uninvited. He’s beginning to pant a bit now and he’s just started groaning. He’s going to cum soon. Fuck. I’m getting hard again myself.

“Stop! Stop now!” Shouts Frank. “Sue! You can come up here now! I’m ready for you.”

I’ve done as he told me and stopped before he shoots his load. Sue is in the room now. She’s got me sitting on the bed and she has taken my place kneeling on the floor. She’s got Frank sitting on the bed to one side of her and me on the other. Now she’s got Frank’s prick in one hand with the panties wrapped around it, and she is rubbing mine through the little panties I’m still wearing. Oh shit, I’m there. My cum is pumping out into the panties in the same place as my previous load. Frank is grunting and groaning. He’s cum as well now and it is dripping out of the panties that Sue has loosened her grip on. Now She’s pulled off her dress and has got one hand inside her panties. She’s masturbating furiously. Oh, that’s it. It looks like the show is over; She’s cum now.’

“Well done boys, that was perfect,” Sue purrs. “Same time next week ok for you Dave?” She asks me as I get dressed. She pushes three twenty-pound notes into my hand and I walk down the stairs and straight out of the front door, heading for my car.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you have seen, what this La-Di-Da couple needed was kinky stuff, and there are plenty of others like them. I like to put on the full act. I enjoy sitting outside in my car and almost believing that what I am about to perform is a random act of burglary. I like to pretend that I really am breaking into the house and doing what I do in the bedroom un-lawfully. Call me weird but it actually turns me on. I often sit in my car before a job with a hard-on, resisting the urge to masturbate knowing that I need all I’ve got for what is to follow. I would never actually burgle anybody or break any other laws.

I’ve got a couple of other contracts like this one in the neighbourhood too, couples like Sue and Frank who need this sort of stuff to spice up their lives, as well a few lonely widows who want a variety of services. I’ve even got a fifty-year-old single man who likes to just sit fully clothed and watch me masturbate wearing nothing but his late mother’s cotton knickers and cum in them. Nothing else, just that.  He pays me forty pounds each time. It takes all sorts as they say. The money is good. I could even give up my day job as a postman. I could afford to on what I earn at night, but it is too useful for seeking out new customers. Too handy in enabling me to look around at different neighbourhoods without raising suspicion.