Beesotted’s Condorman opens the erotic postbag from the Autumn of 2011 and shares this tale of lust:

“I recently moved to a new area and was looking for a new job so was at home during the day waiting for my new washing machine to be delivered.  I’d just been on holiday so had quite a nice tan – I’d even gone topless on the beach for the first time ever, encouraged by the girls – and had a stack of bikinis that I’d put out to wash once the machine had arrived.

The washing machine arrived on time and was delivered by an athletic hunk of a man wearing just a singlet over his well proportioned torso. I popped upstairs to get a pen to sign the delivery note and when I got back to the kitchen he was holding up one of my bikini tops admiringly.

I don’t know quite what came over me but I thought I’d show him what went underneath the bikini, unbuttoning my blouse to give him a glimpse of my recently bronzed  McCrackens. As he stepped towards me I could see the bulge of his Bignall straining against the material of his overalls.

It wasn’t long before we were both completely naked on the tiled floor, my Chris Bush was starting to Byrne with excitement at the motion of his Big Carl Cort as it slipped deep inside me.

My back arched with pleasure as he began Hamering away, Grabban at my hair as his ample Trevor Carson filled my damp David Hunt.

I hadn’t been Laird for a while, and things felt so Wright that it wasn’t long before we reach a noisy climax and I heard him roar “Owain Tudur-Jones” in ecstasy as he pumped me full of Robbie Neilson.

I gave him my mobile number and he still pops round for a “full load” once a week”