Just before she answers the door Becca thinks she ought to have put something on over her PJs. Her cotton camisole top leaves little to the imagination. Her nipples are hard and swollen, and she can feel the fabric brushing against them.She opens the door to find their mailman standing there. “Hi Mr. Douglas. How are you?” Odd, he’s not in uniform.There was a certain amount of consternation among some in the area when James and his wife moved in nearly eight years ago. The older, more rigid. In fact, I was so busy looking at where I’d already been that I damned near hit one of the motorhome in front of me. He was hastily trying to get off the highway with a missing front tire, and had the back ones locked up tight. Stupid asshole! That’s the second-best way to get yourself killed on this fucking road! But it did get all but four of those land yachts out of my way, and windshields notwithstanding, I wasn’t gonna stand around gawking. I was gone, gone, gone!It was another four hours. Some, like Linda, feared him but felt a powerful attraction to him, a deep sexual attraction.Naked, it was easy to see why. He had a massive, powerful body, with huge shoulders and narrow hips. His prick was immensely long and thick, crimson with lust. He looked like a Neanderthal man with a crew cut, his wife once jokingly told him. He backhanded her across the room for that, and she never said it again.The kind of girl who felt attracted to Buzz Watkins was almost always not very bright, sexy. My dreams were never that unusual, but they were fairly detailed. I'd always been able to remember most of my dreams. Like most people, I'd dreamed about various things that concerned me or had my full attention. I'd also experienced the ability to use my hearing and touch in my dreams. Those additional senses didn't always come into play, and there were dreams in which I was glad they didn't. In some of my dreams I even had a margin of control over the sequence, but that night's dream was.
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