This is not fiction. Every word of it is true!

I am a teacher and about 20 years ago, before I got married, I had an interesting summer. Since I had no time schedule, I would nap during the afternoon and then wake up in time for dinner. In the evening, I would write letters and then go out and mail them about 2:00 a.m., then go to bed.

I noticed how quiet it was at that time in the morning and wondered about taking some of my private self-bondage outside. [I had been practicing it inside.] Let me describe the way to the mailbox.

I lived on a major four-lane 40 mph street. Next door, 100 feet of yard with bushes. Then a small side street. Across that street, another 100 feet with one tree and no bushes. Next door, 100 feet with bushes. Last yard, 100 feet with no bushes but a tree at the end.

Then a commercial building (another 100 feet) and a gas station (100 feet), neither with a place to hide. Next, a major cross street. The nice thing about this interesection is that it is the highest place around I could see cars way down the road, much sooner than they could see me.

Across that street, another gas station with a gangway at the far end for hiding. Then 30 feet in front of stores to the mailbox.

I started out just wearing a leotard and pair of tights. (That’s another story.) Then I took along a pair of handcuffs and put them on at the mailbox, with the key at home. From there it was a small step to put them on, at the mailbox, behind my back. One night I did have to duck in that alcove but that did not deter me.

A big step now, to locking on the handcuffs when I left home. First front, then behind my back. That did cause a problem one night when I dropped the letter and had to sit down to pick it up. I saw a car and had to crouch behind the mailbox.

Somewhere along that time I shed the tights and just went in my leotard. The final trips added one more item, a bondage belt which was really a spotters belt for gymnastics. It had become worn and my school replaced it; since the gym teacher had left in June, nobody would miss the old one so I took it home. It was perfect - - six inches wide with two rings which were large enough to thread a pair of handcuffs thru. And a buckle which could be locked with a padlock.

I wore that to the mailbox a few times, hands in front, and then for what became my my final adventure, decided to do it hands behind back. So there I was in a tank leotard, really helpless. I got the letter mailed and headed back. As I got near my yard, I saw a car in the distance, behind me. What the hell, I thought, let them see me. I could get away by the time they reacted. So they passed me just as I got to the bushes in front of my house. Suddenly the car braked and made a u-turn. I ducked thru the bushes and hid behind some other bushes in front of the house. A spotlight from the car swept the area but I was hidden. Then he drove down a little ways and did the same thing, and I went into the door on the back of the house. There I stood in the darkened window, watching this person driving back and forth, looking for me with that spotlight.

And there I was, still handcuffed to the belt behind my back. I was safe but then I started to imagine what it might have been like if he had caught me. And if I had gone the one step farther that I had considered but rejected because it was too risky - legirons. And that matter of excitement gave me what I had never achieved
before, a huge orgasm.

I’d never do that sort of thing today with cellphones all over the place, but back then it was a lot of pleasure, even if only one orgasm.