Where Did I Put The Sex?

“Isn’t it nice that they have one changing room that can take a wheelchair? I told the assistant that you are my great-aunt who is helping me choose a dress. You don’t mind being a great-aunt, do you?”

While she was speaking she had stripped off her outer clothing and was revealed in red satin panties and bra.

“What do you think, great-aunt? Do these suit me?”

Trudi twirled and then cupped her breasts a few inches from my face. I struggled ineffectually against my wrappings. Trudi laughed and pushed a satin covered breast against my eyes.

She stood up and tried on the dresses. Both were short shifts that emphasised her long legs. Both of them were slightly too large. Trudi pulled her sweater and top on again.

“Stay there. I’ll get the smaller size.”

She rushed out, carrying the dresses. To my horror another young woman walked in carrying dresses to try on.

“Your niece will be back in a minute. She said you wouldn’t mind. You don’t mind, do you? I won’t be long.” She said as she stripped to her white skimpy underwear.

I shook my head. She wriggled into an evening gown and zipped it up. It emphasised her curves beautifully.

“Oooh! This feels great. Do you think it suits me?”

I nodded.

“Good. Thank you.”

She stripped again, giving me a full view of her cleavage and the brunette bush showing through her white panties before dressing herself.

Just before leaving she kissed me on the forehead.

“Thanks for letting me use this cubicle.”

She met Trudi returning.

“Your great-aunt likes this dress on me.”

Trudi laughed.

“I’m not surprised.”

“Nor am I, Trudi. He makes a passable great-aunt bundled up like that. His eyes nearly gave him away. They were too aware of my strip tease.”

She bent over and kissed me on the forehead.

“Pleased to meet you, Danny.” She whispered.

She left me fuming at my helplessness.

Trudi tried the smaller sized dresses and selected a couple to buy. She wheeled me out to the cashier’s desk. Behind it was the woman I had just seen in the changing room.

“Hello again, Trudi’s great-aunt.”

I had been set up. She was one of the staff and Trudi’s friend. She waved as we left the shop.

Trudi wheeled me back to the car. She loaded her purchases into the car and uncovered my head and unwound the scarf.

“Trudi!” I spluttered.

She brushed my hair with her hand.

“Don’t get worked up Danny. You gave me the idea.”

That made me speechless. How had I given Trudi the idea? It was in one of my stories but it wasn’t one I had downloaded. My heart sank. If Trudi had read all my stories there were many scenarios in them I wouldn’t want to experience.

Trudi wheeled me back into the shopping mall. As soon as we were inside she pulled off the top layer and stuffed it in the wheelchair’s basket. I was now obviously male. She wheeled me past the dress shop. Her friend came out to us.

“So that’s what you look like, Danny. Pleased to meet you properly.”

She bent down to kiss me on both cheeks and then on my lips.

“I’m pleased to meet you too,” I replied, “but embarrassed.”

“Why? Because you have seen my underwear? Do you think white suits me?”

I nodded.

“Good. I enjoyed showing my scanties to you. The customers can be a pain sometimes. You were a diversion and brightened up my day. Thank you Danny… and Trudi.”

“You brightened my day too. Thank you.”

“Will I feature in one of your stories, Danny?”

I looked at Trudi who appeared to be studying the shop window innocently.

“Maybe,” I said, my brain whirring furiously. Trudi knew, Gretel knew and now Trudi’s friend knew. My English friends didn’t know I wrote erotic stories but at least three women in Austria did know. How?

Trudi wheeled me off to a coffee bar. She loosened the strap over my arms so I could drink my coffee unaided. Over coffee I decided I must settle the question. How did they know?

“Trudi?”

“Yes, Danny.”

“How do you know about my stories?”

“What stories are those, Danny?”

Trudi was smiling broadly.

“The ones I have posted on the internet, not the ones I downloaded.”

“Oh. Those stories.”

“Yes, Trudi. How do you know about them?”

“Danny. Do you remember last year when I was called Jutta?”

“Yes.” I said cautiously.

“Did you use a computer?”

“I think so. I might have done. I didn’t write anything. I was too busy skiing.”

“I can tell you, Danny. You did use a computer. You checked how your stories were going. Someone saw your username on the screen as they passed. That someone also saw the name of the site.”

I lowered my head and groaned.

“You?”

“No, Danny, not me. You weren’t at my chalet. One of the staff at your chalet. She looked at the site and found your stories. She liked them. By the end of your first week all the chalet girls had read your stories. You were famous.”

I groaned again.

“But you were with your girlfriend. Many of us were jealous of her. This year you came back without your girlfriend. You have written many stories since last winter. Do you know how many?”

“No. I don’t count.”

“From the time you left Austria last year until the day you came back you had written thirty-four. I’ve read all of them. So has Gretel. So has the woman you just met.”

I buried my head in my hands.

“You can’t hide Danny. You are famous in this part of Austria. Gretel and I translated your stories into German. Most of us read them on the net but there are hard copies circulating as well.”

Trudi looked around the coffee bar. It was full of women having a break from shopping.

“I think that maybe half of the women in this coffee bar have read at least one of your stories. Shall I announce who you are? You could do a book signing. You would probably get your coffee free.”

“No, Trudi, please. I write under a nom-de-plume. No one is supposed to know who I am.”

I was almost begging her not to tell.

She bent over and kissed me.

“If that’s what you want. Gretel, I, and many of the other women think we know you from your stories. I have made you re-live some of the incidents you wrote about. Did you enjoy them?”

“Not all. Much of my stories are imaginary. I wouldn’t want to experience some of the things I write about. You and Gretel have been wonderful but…”

“…but you are a writer, not a doer. Am I right?”

“Yes, Trudi. I get excitement from writing about things. Some of the things I would like to do; some I wouldn’t.”

“OK. I can accept that. Tonight we are going to discuss and demonstrate those things you like. You, me and Gretel, all three of us playing together in one bed. I think you will enjoy yourself. We will. One thing I have been told to ask you.”

“What thing?”

“The women of our village want a story set in Austria, just for them. Will you write it?”

“I suppose so.”

That is how I found out where I had put the sex. I had blown my cover in a small village in Austria. When I left at the end of the holiday it was obvious to me at least that my anonymity was no more. To the surprise of my English friends I had to hobble a gauntlet of about fifty local women who wanted to kiss me goodbye. I couldn’t refuse my fans, could I?

This is the story the Austrian women wanted. I had to write it. Trudi insisted whenever we went to bed. She joined me in England and we married three months later with Gretel as chief bridesmaid.

The End