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It was the postie. Fair enough. I waited for him to drop his letters and piss off, but he fooled me. He hopped off his bike and walked into the house. I was watching through the lens and he just up and walked in, no knocking or ringing of the bell, no blowing of his whistle, just ride up, park and straight into the house.

I don't know if he called out or not, I was too far away to see, but what I did see was quite fascinating. He just walked straight up behind the woman (let's call her Hannah. I can't just keep on saying the woman.) lifted up her dress and pulled her panties down. All Hannah did was lean forward slightly and brace herself against the sink. Then our friendly postman, very friendly in this case, unzipped his pants, whipped out his old fella and started getting very well acquainted with Hannah.

Now not being a voyeur, I immediately stopped watching and turned to other subjects to shoot. And if you believe that, I've got a bridge I want to sell you. I switched to movie mode and zoomed in closer. It was a not to be missed opportunity to see how well the camera would perform.

When the postie had finished he just zipped up, walked out of the house and took off on his rounds, while Hannah pulled up her panties and continued with the dishes. Good luck to the postie and good luck to Hannah was what I thought.

I forgot about the incident and continued minding my own business, but a few days later when I was taking a walk I was passing Hannah's house when I saw the postie approaching. I just slowed down a little to see what he did. He pulled up, walked up to the house and vanished in-side. I didn't hear him say anything, and though I took my time walking past I didn't hear any noises from the house.

Now, I have to admit, I was curious. Did he just walk in, bonk, and leave without saying a word? I decided to find out. Along with my cameras, I have several nice mikes, useful for a running commentary or for getting live comments from distant players.

Next day at the appropriate time I was sitting upstairs, camera set up and a highly directional and highly sensitive mike pointed at Hannah, who was again washing dishes. I could hear the occasional clatter. Did she do her dishes at that time everyday so she'd be in position for a bonk, I wondered?

Enter the postman. I focused the camera and mike on him and I can just about hear him breathing. He walks into the house, no noise but his footsteps. Now I'm watching him walk up behind Hannah, and I can hear the rustle as he moves her dress and pulls down her panties. Neither of them has said a word.

Then there's the sound of a zip, and I can see him pushing quickly into Hannah, no foreplay, just spread her lips and in she goes, boys. Then he's busy humping away and I notice Hannah moving with him. There's the sound of heavy breathing and sex in action, but not a word was spoken.

Next thing I know the postie is withdrawing and leaving and Hannah is hoisting up her panties and continuing with the dishes, the only difference is that she's now humming as she works.

In the entire time, the two didn't exchange a word, acknowledge each other or look at each other. At least, Hannah didn't look at the postie. The postie couldn't have failed to look and see where he was sticking his dick.

I was mildly amused by the whole thing, and several times since then I've seen the postie stopping by.

Then came the day of the postal strike. I'm sure you all know the one I mean. Those boys had no intention of delivering a single letter that day. Pay cheques could wait, bills wouldn't be paid, Aunt Agatha's postcard could come a day late. They didn't care, they were out.

Now the strike didn't worry me, as I wasn't expecting any mail, but as I was taking a short walk later I found myself approaching Hannah's house, and I noticed the door was open. It seemed that she hadn't heard about the strike and was waiting for the postie.

I don't know what came over me.

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