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05 Eylül 2023, 10:51
He'd been standing in line behind her at the bank, quickly scanning the back and side view of her, the junoesque proportions, taking in the tailored suit, sensible shoes, her meticulous grooming, a teasing whiff of her perfume and something less tangible.
She concluded her business and turned to leave, his peripheral vision caught something falling to the floor, but by the time he'd bent to retrieve it and turn to tell her she'd dropped something, she was already through the door briskly walking away. He looked at the two small floppy disks in his hand, one titled "des histoires" the other "des pensées" hmmm, it appeared the lady was French or at least wrote it.
The teller was ready for him, his thoughts interrupted, he slipped the disks into his suit jacket really without thinking and proceeded to get his banking needs done.
It wasn't until that evening as he removed his jacket that he remembered the diskettes he'd found. He pulled them out and inserted the one titled "histoires" into the computer?s drive, waiting patiently for ol' Bessie to sputter and wake from a day of idle occupation. He hoped his rusty high school French would be up to the task of deciphering the contents of the disk, hopefully finding a way to identify the owner, to return them to her.
The titles were all in English, so he clicked on the first one "Dreams".
He read several paragraphs before he became conscious that his jaw was hanging somewhere down on his chest, his necktie felt unbearably tight as he gulped, the bulge in his pants attesting to the fact that he'd been captured by the sensual erotic meanderings he was reading.
He smiled to himself, never judge a book by it's cover, was certainly applicable in this ladies? case. She was at least forty, packing a good fifty pounds more than was acceptable by fashion's dictum; she'd appeared a sensible, conservative lady. There were silver streaks through her dark hair held in a twist, the brief look he'd had of her face had shown him a serious looking, matronly woman.
He continued reading the story, releasing himself from his trousers, taking himself in hand as her words seduced him with descriptions of feasting on some lucky devil's turgid manhood. His own tightness becoming almost painful with need.
At the end of the story she'd signed it with what he presumed was her nom de plume, but also an email address. Perfect. He continued to read all of the stories listed, taking a break to rapidly relieve the pressure her words had inspired, wishing he could conjure her up to assuage each of her needs and his own.
He'd inserted the second diskette; this one was where she stored her ideas for possible scenarios, paragraphs started but incomplete, erotic ponderings, fantasies. His favorite, the beginnings of a bondage scene that promised to be very hot.
He started formulating a plan on how to get in touch with her to return her lost diskettes. He would email her saying that he'd found her lost property, if she wanted them returned, to respond forthwith.
********************
I couldn't wait to get home, this day had gone from bad to worse, an unscheduled meeting had ensured I'd missed lunch, a hurried trip to the bank instead, an afternoon of endless interruptions that caused me to leave the office later than usual.
The suit I?d worn was far too warm for this day. Shedding it and everything else, a quick shower, slipping into my silky nightgown were foremost on my mind as I entered my quiet apartment, the cat nearly tripped me as he wove his way through the steps leading to my bedroom;
?First things first puss, momma needs to change?.
The de-grooming tasks quickly accomplished, to the sounds of Darwin?s incessant meows, he was hungry and that was all there was to it. A frozen entrée for myself popped into the microwave, a chilled glass of white wine, a can of seafood delight for Darwin, our dinner was ready in minutes.
?Finish your supper Darwin, momma's going to check her emails.?
I made my way towards my computer, punched in my password and quickly perused the list of emails received since yesterday, discarding the junk ones, my eyebrows puckered at an address that wasn't familiar. I?m always wary of opening emails from unknown addresses, fearing another virus, I was about to click on it to send it to the trashcan when I noticed the subject line "your erotic stories" clicked on it and cried out in disbelief at the first line.
"Do you have back-up copies of your diskettes 'Mes histoires'
She concluded her business and turned to leave, his peripheral vision caught something falling to the floor, but by the time he'd bent to retrieve it and turn to tell her she'd dropped something, she was already through the door briskly walking away. He looked at the two small floppy disks in his hand, one titled "des histoires" the other "des pensées" hmmm, it appeared the lady was French or at least wrote it.
The teller was ready for him, his thoughts interrupted, he slipped the disks into his suit jacket really without thinking and proceeded to get his banking needs done.
It wasn't until that evening as he removed his jacket that he remembered the diskettes he'd found. He pulled them out and inserted the one titled "histoires" into the computer?s drive, waiting patiently for ol' Bessie to sputter and wake from a day of idle occupation. He hoped his rusty high school French would be up to the task of deciphering the contents of the disk, hopefully finding a way to identify the owner, to return them to her.
The titles were all in English, so he clicked on the first one "Dreams".
He read several paragraphs before he became conscious that his jaw was hanging somewhere down on his chest, his necktie felt unbearably tight as he gulped, the bulge in his pants attesting to the fact that he'd been captured by the sensual erotic meanderings he was reading.
He smiled to himself, never judge a book by it's cover, was certainly applicable in this ladies? case. She was at least forty, packing a good fifty pounds more than was acceptable by fashion's dictum; she'd appeared a sensible, conservative lady. There were silver streaks through her dark hair held in a twist, the brief look he'd had of her face had shown him a serious looking, matronly woman.
He continued reading the story, releasing himself from his trousers, taking himself in hand as her words seduced him with descriptions of feasting on some lucky devil's turgid manhood. His own tightness becoming almost painful with need.
At the end of the story she'd signed it with what he presumed was her nom de plume, but also an email address. Perfect. He continued to read all of the stories listed, taking a break to rapidly relieve the pressure her words had inspired, wishing he could conjure her up to assuage each of her needs and his own.
He'd inserted the second diskette; this one was where she stored her ideas for possible scenarios, paragraphs started but incomplete, erotic ponderings, fantasies. His favorite, the beginnings of a bondage scene that promised to be very hot.
He started formulating a plan on how to get in touch with her to return her lost diskettes. He would email her saying that he'd found her lost property, if she wanted them returned, to respond forthwith.
********************
I couldn't wait to get home, this day had gone from bad to worse, an unscheduled meeting had ensured I'd missed lunch, a hurried trip to the bank instead, an afternoon of endless interruptions that caused me to leave the office later than usual.
The suit I?d worn was far too warm for this day. Shedding it and everything else, a quick shower, slipping into my silky nightgown were foremost on my mind as I entered my quiet apartment, the cat nearly tripped me as he wove his way through the steps leading to my bedroom;
?First things first puss, momma needs to change?.
The de-grooming tasks quickly accomplished, to the sounds of Darwin?s incessant meows, he was hungry and that was all there was to it. A frozen entrée for myself popped into the microwave, a chilled glass of white wine, a can of seafood delight for Darwin, our dinner was ready in minutes.
?Finish your supper Darwin, momma's going to check her emails.?
I made my way towards my computer, punched in my password and quickly perused the list of emails received since yesterday, discarding the junk ones, my eyebrows puckered at an address that wasn't familiar. I?m always wary of opening emails from unknown addresses, fearing another virus, I was about to click on it to send it to the trashcan when I noticed the subject line "your erotic stories" clicked on it and cried out in disbelief at the first line.
"Do you have back-up copies of your diskettes 'Mes histoires'