The parcel She didn’t often get the house to herself this early in the day.  The kids had been collected by their father at 3pm and her Friday evening and the weekend stretched before her.  Pub with friends tomorrow night, she thought. But this afternoon she had planned to masturbate herself stupid.  She ignored the usual, quieter, stick vibe in her bedside drawer.  Instead she slid the innocuous-looking brown box from under her bed.  It was covered in dust but, inside, her large black mains wand was pristine.  She stripped off, put some lube onto the large head and lay on her bed; legs spread wide. Something was waking her up.  She had brought herself to orgasm 3 times before having to stop because her clit was too sensitive for her to make herself hold the wand there any longer, and she must have dozed off.  The light through her curtains had dimmed considerably and she guessed it was about 6pm.  What the hell had woken her?  Then she heard the knocking at her front door and realized that someone was outside.  Shit!  The new set of butt plugs she had ordered.  She didn’t want to miss the delivery; not when she had the whole weekend in front of her to try them out.  Worried about how long the delivery person had already been stood on her front doorstep, she threw on the closest thing to hand - an oversize jumper - and started down the stairs. As she approached her front door she shrugged irritably at the jumper, which was far too large and kept slipping off one shoulder.  She paused for a moment when she saw the large shape through the frosted pane of glass in her door.  Whoever was out there was enormous and she was wearing nothing but a jumper.  Quickly she reminded herself that she lived on a main road, surrounded by neighbours, and that she really wanted those butt plugs.  She opened the door. He had been about to push a card through the letterbox and go back to his van, kind of annoyed that the last delivery of the day was out and he would have to return the parcel to the depot, when the door suddenly opened.  His eyes widened in surprise and he lowered the parcel to waist level when he saw what stood in the doorway.  The woman’s long blonde hair looked delightfully tousled, like she had just got out of bed and her green eyes looked very dark.  Her exact shape was difficult to see in the shapeless jumper she wore but, as it stopped high on her thighs, he could guess that she was plump and curvy in all the right places underneath it. One of her shoulders was bare and he could see that the last of her summer tan hadn’t quite faded from it.  The woman quickly folded her arms.  He thought she looked a little embarrassed to be standing there in just a jumper.  Didn’t she realize that folding her arms pushed her very large breasts together and increased the amount of cleavage he could see?  “Lovehoney delivery for you,” he said, instantly realising that he had let slip the fact that he knew what was inside the ‘discreet’ brown box he carried.  The sight of her had obviously driven that knowledge to the forefront of his mind. Her mouth opened and she felt her cheeks turn crimson when she heard the words from the tall stranger.  Her arms unfolded and fell to her sides and, for a moment, an image of this hazel-eyed stranger pushing one of her new butt plugs into her arse as she held it open for him flashed across her mind.  She blinked and the image was gone, but she wondered how long she had stood there, staring, before stepping forwards and saying, “Yes, that’s right.” As she stepped forward he noticed that she hadn’t corrected him about the origin of the parcel.  He also noticed that she was still not quite as tall as he was, even though he was stood on a step below the level of her hallway. God she looked attractive, he thought, like she’d just finished having sex but wanted more.  She probably had her husband upstairs waiting, although he noticed that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.  “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” he said, handing the parcel to her.  He watched her flush again and say, “No, no, I’m all alone.”  As she took the parcel he found himself staring straight into her eyes.  They were dark green and seemed to be asking for something that she hadn’t articulated yet.  He couldn’t believe the next words out of his mouth, “Look, I hope you don’t mind, it’s been a really long shift, please could I use your toilet?” She made a small step back into her hallway and stared at the man in front of her.  Medium build but very tall, he was wearing work boots and jeans; a casual shirt was tucked loosely into the jeans and she could see a t-shirt underneath.  Her eyes lingered on a well-worn, brown leather belt, then they travelled to his face.  His eyes were twinkling mischievously but he also looked a little nervous, like he was about to change his mind about something.  He looked strong and gentle at the same time and she felt her belly warm as she looked at him.  “Of course, the cloakroom’s just behind me.” He stepped over the threshold and pushed the door closed behind him before saying, “Thank you.”  The hallway was very small and she had stepped back into another doorway, to the left, that looked like it led to the living room.  There was a door in front of him so he took off his muddy boots and stepped through it.  The cloakroom was small; fitted under the staircase.  He suddenly wondered how he was going to urinate when his cock was semi hard.  He would have to wait for a moment to let it go down. She put the parcel on the kitchen table before returning to the living room and perching on the arm of one of the sofas.  She tried to collect her thoughts.  There was a large, strange man in her house, and she was naked apart from a loose jumper.  She quickly came to the realization that she didn’t care one bit.  In fact, she recognised that she was aroused.  Maybe because she had fallen asleep masturbating, but she suspected it was more to do with the man in her cloakroom.  If someone had stolen knowledge of the physical attributes of her ideal man, they would have created the person in her downstairs cloakroom.  She heard the flush and water running and then realized he was stood in the doorway looking at her again.  Making a decision, she straightened her back and shoulders and confidently asked, “Would you like a nice hot coffee before you head off?” He had been about to thank her again and say his goodbyes, when the woman with the just fucked hair and bedroom eyes thrust her tits out and invited him to stay for a coffee.  He agreed but, as she asked him to follow her into the kitchen, he realized he was playing with fire here.  He told himself, and by that he meant his cock, to wait for a very clear signal before committing himself to making a move.  After all, perhaps all the 40-something women in this suburb invited delivery men into their homes for coffee, whilst strolling around in next to nothing, just to tease and give themselves something to talk about at the school gates the next morning. She flicked the kettle on and took milk out of her fridge, noticing that he had leant himself on the back of one of her kitchen chairs.  Watching her.  She could see the parcel containing the butt plugs on the table behind him and her cheeks blushed again.  He had folded his arms across his chest and crossed