Telltale Mail Ch. 01byfluidline1©
Note: I know it’s been an awfully long time since I wrote in. I had to be hospitalized; it was minor, but unavoidable.
And while I lay in the hospital bed and ogled at the sexy nurses in their tight uniforms and all those who came visiting, my mind (naturally) filed up with fantasies.
Back when I opened my mail, I was astonished to find the scores of letters asking me not to stop and keep a few of my stories running. Well, I will certainly try. But this one is new and I hope you all like it.
Of course, I'd love to hear from all of you!
He never went to the same Cyber Café more than once a month. And he had to download his attachments twice a week. There were hundreds, no, thousands of such café’s on practically every alleyways across the city.
The only reason he went to the cafes was to send the attachments to her. For his other work, he had a PC in his study room.
A friend of his had told him how easy it is to identify the location of a PC sending e-mails or hosting sites. And he did not want to take chances. Agreed, she wasn’t a computer geek; but then, he also knew that one could never tell what a woman could be capable of doing.
It was more than six months now that he had been sending these attachments through the mail. More than six months since he had created a new e-mail ID that he was certain could never be linked to him. The ID, Zapata, was unusual as was the password he had created.
He was a careful man and believed in covering his tracks.
His mails to her were highly erotic stories, figments of his imagination, which were a result of his fantasies and his pent up frustration. From the time he had laid his eyes on her, he had been obsessed. At times, he thought that this obsession would lead to some kind of a paranoia that would perhaps force him to consult a psychiatrist.
But she was like that. At thirty-five, she was almost a dozen years younger than him, but what the hell. People always told him that he looked almost five years younger than he really was. And when it came to sex, he was as randy as a teenager. He should know, because his wife never lied to him.
Her name was Rita, and she was a distant relation of his wife’s. It was only after Rita’s marriage to his wife’s cousin that this relation had come to surface.
In the beginning, the stories were rather subdued in as far as the sexual content was concerned. But with the passage of time, and his discovery of the particular fetish on the Internet the stories became more graphic. The attachments were galleries he had downloaded and later burned the CD’s with them to send them across to her. The galleries gave way to short video clips featuring mostly, his fetish.
Too, he had become obsessed with this fetish only after having met Rita. And he was sure that if Rita could read between the lines, she would have a fair idea of who exactly was sending these mails: though she wouldn’t be able to prove it.
He always used the first person when he wrote those stories. For instance, whenever they met at a party or a get-together, he would use that scenario to conjure his stories.
At times, he felt he was going too far: cutting it a bit too fine. He had overheard her telling his wife her e-mail ID and that was when he had hatched the plot.
It was after a particular graphic story and an attachment that involved a set of video clips featuring a busty brunette with two guys that he found a mail from her on his secret ID.
His heart thudding and hands trembling, he opened her mail. It was short, but it took his breath away.
“Zapata: Do you send this to everybody? How did you get my ID? Can you tell me who you are? Do I know you? Do you know ME? Most importantly, thanks for the stories and the attachments. The last one particularly was lovely. It is helping us enjoy! Keep up the good work!”
To say he was astounded would be an understatement. Us? What the hell did Rita mean by that?
He fumbled in his backpack and found the last CD he had used. The café had small private cabins and it was an unwritten rule that no one would disturb any geek occupying them.
He had based the last story featuring a woman who looked like Rita (at least the description matched her in more than one way): Fairly tall, long, thick hair, not really beautiful, in her mid-thirties, but with one outstanding feature: an amazing bust line.
Breasts were his fetish. And Rita had a truly amazing bust. In spite of her height and her broad shoulders, they stood out as THE most outstanding feature of her body.
The first person in that story was of course him. He had given a hazy description about himself: he stuck to the height, the body build and the hair.
As he began to re-read his own story that he had mailed to her, it struck him. He had used a third person in the story; another middle-aged man that he had based along the lines of one of his best friends. He had written that story for two things: one, he had met her at a party when this friend had surprised him by attending it, and two, he had thought that the particular video clips he had sent with the attachment was too hot to pass by.
The busty brunette, leaning against the backrest of an overstuffed couch, sucking on an erect dick, had another prick enveloped between her large breasts. Another clip showed her lying on the couch, the two men standing opposite each other astride the couch with their pricks nestled between those huge breasts, while the man straddling her chest was reaching behind to thrust a pair of fingers in and out of her pussy. The finale showed both the guys kneeling over her as she jerked and sucked on them alternately till they burst their semen all over her face and breasts and belly.
Could this have turned her on so much that she had thought of replying to his mail for the first time? And, he wondered, who was the ‘US’ she was talking about?
He began to surf the net and rent out DVD’s to search for similar features. It wasn’t very difficult to find them. Instead of twice a week, he began sending her the stories and attachments thrice a week now.
Slowly, but surely, she began to reply to his secret ID. At first, the letters were short and to the point. But one day, the reply he read almost made him want to pull out his prick and jerk it in the cyber café itself.
“Dear Zapata: I’ve this feeling that maybe I know you. A lot of descriptions seem to be familiar. Initially, I thought it was coincidence. But these similarities seem to be repeating quite often for me to continue thinking that they really are coincidences. Be that as it may, let me tell you that I’ve noticed that you have a thing going for tits and various other crevices in which a guy could thrust his dick and pump to and fro. I’m pretty well stacked; my tits need a cover of size 38. And without the cover, they don’t hang or droop. I adore having a cock pumping between them: it’s one of the greatest turn-on for me. Unfortunately, my hubby no longer thinks about doing this. But when I manage to convince him to do it, I invariably have the best climaxes that I have experienced. I liked the last story as well. Especially where the two guys stand behind the girl and fuck her armpits. God! It was great! You still haven’t told me whether you send these stories and attachments to others or only to me. Till you do, I guess I’m going to presume that I am just one of the addresses to whom you send these erotic masterpieces. Keep going!”
The use of the ‘forbidden’ words in the mail aroused him so much, that he hastily sent the day’s mail, rushed back to the house and into the bathroom to masturbate.
Afterwards, he thought for a long time about her letter. Was it really her who had written it? Or was it her husband who was pulling the wool over his eyes?
It did not take a very long time for him to get the answers to these questions.
A couple of weeks and another mail later, his wife had arranged a small get-together at the house. Rita and her husband, Deep were also invited. Additionally, his brother-in-law and wife too were there.
After dinner, the three couples were sitting in the large balcony attached to the living room when the subject got to Internet and its effects on kids.
“I don’t have internet at my place,” his brother-in-law said. “Better to prevent my daughter getting one of those pop-ups and get too curious about the content,huh?”
“That’s not fair, Akash,” he said, glancing furtively at Rita when he answered his brother-in-law. “I mean, I do allow the kids access to the net. But I keep checking on them. Additionally, I have downloaded Parental Controls as well.”
His wife never really bothered about the net. She hardly ever used the PC. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about.”
“Oh really, Raveena!” Rita interjected. She glanced at him and continued, “When you surf the net, there’s always a chance that you encounter some naughty pop-ups. Or, maybe a naughty mail.”
He felt his heart pounding and was scared that maybe one of them could hear it.
“I delete unknown e-mails without bothering to read them,” Deep said.
“Sometimes, the subject line is very innocent,” said Rita. “And once you open the mail, curiosity keeps you wanting to read it. What is your opinion, Manish?”
He was startled by her question, but managed to answer it with a poker face. “If you don’t want the kids to have access to the net, better not have a PC at home. And as far as anonymous e-mails are concerned, there are so many tools on the net to automatically delete them that there is no need to follow the tiresome procedure of deleting each individually. Besides, I feel that you should have a personal ID not known to every Tom, Dick and Harry.”
Megha, his sis-in-law interrupted. “I never can get a hang of those tools on the net.”
“Neither can I.” Rita was looking at him directly now. “Manish, can you do us a favor? Could you download one of those really good programs or what have you to automatically delete unwanted mails?”
“Can’t Deep do that?” he croaked, hastily puffing on the cigarette to disguise his obviously nervous voice.
“Shit no!” Deep laughed. “All I like to do on the PC is surf the net to my heart’s content, use the Office and do a few drawings. I’m not into programming. Nor do I want to know.”
“Can you, Manish?” insisted Rita.
“Oh sure. Just say when,” he replied.
“Gosh, thanks. What about tomorrow? That is, if you have the time.”
“He is,” his wife interrupted. “Isn’t your office closed tomorrow, darling?”
“Um, yeah. The manager’s daughter is getting married and the boys wanted the day off so they could attend it,” he said. “No problems, Rita.”
“My tour starts from tomorrow,” Deep groaned, taking a sip of the brandy. “You guys will have to do it without me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Rita said sharply. “After all, you don’t care, do you?”
And that was how he found himself in the utilitarian bungalow the next morning. Deep had already left for his weeklong tour.
She was dressed in a sleeveless cotton gown that was perhaps two sizes smaller than she required. It barely reached her knees, thus exposing her long legs and had a square and rather daring opening at the neck. It was enough to reveal her scrumptious cleavage and the top of her bra. It was also tight and he could clearly see the outlines of her undergarments. Occasionally, he could detect the bra when she raised her arms, as she did now, to adjust the bun she had tied at her head.
She had tied her long hair in a bun and she looked freshly scrubbed. She’d just had her bath; that was obvious.
“Hi Manish. Thanks a lot. I hope I’m not inconveniencing you.”
“Aw shucks, no,” he replied. Sleep had been difficult to come by the previous night and he had to take a pill. To be alone with her in her apartment was an experience he had never gone through before and he was wondering what was going to happen.
“The PC’s in the bedroom. Come on in, I’ll show you.”
He followed her to the bedroom, his heart already thudding and the feeling the beginning of a painful erection.
The gown was stretched tightly across her buttocks and he seemed entranced by it as he followed her. When she bent down to switch the PC on, he almost groaned at the sight of her heavy breasts straining against the gown, threatening to spill out.
“I’ll get some coffee,” she said. “Go on, sit down.”
He lowered himself on the straight-backed chair and fixed his gaze on the screen. She pulled another chair beside his and sat down. “I’ll get this connected to the net before I get the coffee,” she told him.
He was aware of her closeness. She smelled of some exotic perfume and eau de cologne.
“There,” she said, when the fax tone quit and she opened the explorer. “Don’t start till I get the coffee.”
He watched her from the corner of his eyes as she rose and walked away to the kitchen. He waited, his eyes on the glittering screen as the default site opened up.
She took barely a couple of minutes to come with the coffee.
“Here,” she said, handing him a mug. “I know you like it black.”
“Thanks,” he replied, accepting the coffee.
She pulled a low chair beside his and lowered herself onto it. He glanced at her furtively, realizing that her chair was so low, that her head came up to his chest level.
“Talking about e-mails,” she said conversationally, “I seem to be receiving quite a lot of anonymous ones.”
He couldn’t help not noticing her deep cleavage when she leaned forward to sip her coffee.
He cleared his throat. “Are they from different addresses?”
“Does that make any difference? I mean, supposing I want to delete all such e-mails?”
“If you want to delete e-mails coming from a specific ID, all you have to do is mark them as junk and ignore the junk mail. This way, you won’t get e-mails from this ID in your Inbox.”
“Thank god,” she breathed. “I don’t want a program that deletes all e-mails sent by ID’s not known to me.”
He was aware that his heart was beating faster than before.
“Oh? You mean…”
“There is some interesting material that a specific ID sends to me. I always read them and wouldn’t want them to be deleted till I go through them.”
Even as she set her now empty mug on the computer table, she looked at him steadily. He sensed a kind of a challenge in her eyes and decided to play her game.
He smiled. That interesting, huh? I wish I got some like them myself. All trash mail I get is useless. Care to let me know what kind of mail interests you so much?”
Though he attempted flippancy, he awaited her reply with bated breath.
She smiled slowly, revealing her white teeth. “Why not?” she said, turning to the PC. “In fact, I’ve copied and pasted all the material I got from this ID in Word. Here, let me open the file for you.”
He felt a tingle go through him when she gently pushed his hands off the keyboard. Just that touch felt like a jolt of electricity run through him.
He could see her face in profile now as she rapidly began to click the mouse and open Word. It was almost as though she were sitting on the floor and he was seated on the chair – her chair was so low. He could also see the curve of her breasts straining against the gown. By straining his neck a bit, he could see the deep, inviting cleavage.
“I get many from this ID. I guess I will open one at random. What’s more, the letters come with attachments. I’ve downloaded them in My Web and coded them to coincide with the specific letter to which it was attached.”
He dragged his eyes away from her face and her breasts to the monitor.
“But first, read this!” she exclaimed.
The file had opened.
He had named this episode as “You with me” and it was about how a guy made it with a woman in the basement while their respective spouses were intermingling with a dozen guests in the living room. He had been inspired by a party when he had run into her as he emerged from the basement with a couple of bottles of wine in his hands.
His eyes read the story he had written.
“Are you reading?” she asked, and this time, her voice had dropped to a whisper.
“Er…um…y-yes, I mean, I am trying,” he replied hoarsely.
She leaned closer to the monitor. “I reduced the font size so that I could read the story without having to scroll too much,” she told him. “Here, I’ll read it for you.”
He almost choked when she said that. Aware of her closeness and the fact that her back was facing him, he felt his body tremble with anticipation and desire.
“I set down the bottles when you entered the basement and watched as you bolted the door behind you. In your strapless top that hugged you tightly, you looked beautiful.
‘Did I keep you waiting too long?’ you asked, hurrying up to me, your hands already lifting your dress up over your legs, exposing your thighs and hips.
‘I could wait forever when I know you are going to walk in through that door sooner or later, I guess,’ I replied, smiling at you and unzipping my trousers.
Holding your dress bunched up at your waist, you hurried to me and putting one arm around my shoulder, you tipped your gorgeous face to mine.
I bent down and we kissed, your tongue thrusting into my mouth. I felt your hand pushing mine away and unbuttoning my trousers till they lay down around my knees.
I had, of course, by this time, pushed your top down to expose those lovely tits of yours. Large and firm. Soft and warm. Capped with those big, pink nipples.
You moaned when I put the bottles down on the chair and spread my damp palms over your tits, gently squeezing as we continued our kiss.
It was my turn to groan when I felt your sweaty hands grasp my cock.
By this time, his prick was fully erect and throbbing under inside his pants. He had long stopped listening to her low, husky voice; instead, his eyes were drawn to the curve of her enormous breasts pushing against the computer table.
He could see her full lips parting and closing as she uttered the words he had written. She was breathing just as hard as he was; she had to, because her chest was heaving. He could see a film of sweat on her forehead and on the top of her upper lip. He suddenly realized that her voice had dropped to a bare whisper.
She was rocking her legs gently; bringing her legs together and then spreading them apart before repeating the whole process again. The gown had ridden over her hips to expose her ripe and smooth thighs.
He could see that she was wearing a black bra. Her supple breasts heaved with apparent exertion. Or was it excitement?
He knew his prick had stiffened, but he couldn’t help it. He did try to hide the bulge from her by clasping his hands directly over his crotch, but realized that the gesture merely emphasized his intention. Still, he kept his hands across the front of his pants.
‘Let me do you first,’ I told you, gasping for breath as you tugged my cock back and forth in your dainty fist.
You allowed me to kneel on the floor and clasp your buttocks. You spread your legs apart and I could see your glistening cunt; devoid of any hair. I pulled you to me and opened my mouth as your cunt met me. It was wet and hot.
‘Aahhhh!’ you gasped, pushing me closer to you by grabbing the back of my head. ‘Oh yes, lover, lick my cunt!’
I raised my eyes to watch you bending down and licking your nipples and squeezing your naked tits even as I pushed my tongue into the confines of your wet pussy.
All too soon you flooded my face and gasping for breath you slid down to the floor in front of me.
My cock was as hard as a slab of concrete and I shuddered when you took it in your hands.
‘Fuck my tits now, lover,’ you cooed.
I immediately rose to my feet and hunched over you. You adjusted your height and I groaned when you directed my shaft between your big tits. I grabbed your shoulders and began to buck my hips up and down as you held my cock in your ample valley of tits.