It was appropriately gloomy weather on the afternoon when my good friend Beth was buried. Her death at the hands of a drunk driver was a tragedy that all of her many friends felt very deeply. Of course, her husband and two young children were devastated by the loss. I had known Beth since our high school days when we were both cheerleaders. We saw each other almost every day during the following years, often at the health club. After our work-outs, we would share long talks over coffee about the traumas and joys of our lives. I thought I knew everything about her, and every one of her friends. Was I ever wrong!

The funeral service was held outdoors, next to the grave site. More than a hundred people attended, all bundled up against the insistent autumn chill. I knew everyone there, most with tears filling their eyes. Half- way through the service, I noticed someone whom I didn't recognize, on the far side of the circle of Beth's friends. He was leaning against the gnarled trunk of a huge sugar maple, ablaze with golden foliage, and he was dressed more casually than most of the mourners. Although he was physically part of the group, I knew instinctively that he was separate and mysterious. My curiosity was piqued; who was this one person I didn't know, who felt strongly enough to attend Beth's funeral?

I needed to know. So when the final words were spoken, I avoided conversation with the friends standing near me. Instead I circled around the outside of the group toward the tree where he had been standing. He was already gone. Glancing around, I saw him sitting on a stone wall a couple hundred feet away, staring off into space. He was deep in thought, and perhaps I should have left him in peace. But I so wanted to know how he was connected to Beth, about whom I thought I knew everything. I screwed up my courage and walked over the leaf-strewn grass, silently sitting near him on the wall. Minutes passed without a word, as we watched everyone else walk away from the grave. Even when the last car had sped off down the dirt road, our quiet meditation continued, until finally he turned his head toward mine, and said, "I probably shouldn't have come here today, but I just couldn't stay away. Beth had a powerful and exciting influence on my life, and in my way, I loved her very much."

What on earth was he talking about? According to him, Beth and he had been close. But he was unknown to her community of friends. So I just had to ask bluntly, "Who are you, anyway. I'm sure that I've never seen you with Beth, or around town."

"I've never actually met Beth, at least not in person. But she and I knew everything about each other, since we talked to each other over computer networks. We were sort of like penpals, or e-pals, I guess you might say." He saw the bewildered look on my face, and continued, "I would explain all this to you, but what she and I had was very special, and very intimate. And it was absolutely secret. So I'm not sure that I should go on. I would hate for her family to be hurt."

I asked, "How do you know that I'm not a family member?" To which he answered, "Well, I'm pretty sure that I know who you are. You're Sue, aren't you? Beth described you in great detail, and no one else at the service looked like you do. If it weren't for what she told me about you and the deep friendship that you shared, I wouldn't have even said this much. But she said that you were the most open-minded and open- hearted person she knew, so I'm taking the chance with you. I know that you are familiar with America Online and how it can be used to get into sexual fantasies. She told me that you are the 'SueNH' that writes all those stories for the Internet."

How the hell did Beth know that? I haven't told anyone, not even my closest friends. It turns out that she had discovered the stories, and had recognized my physical description, the neighborhood, and my personality. I had dropped enough hints for Beth to figure it out. I was somewhat horrified to have been discovered, but also tantalized by the possibilities.

While I sat there with my jaw hanging open, he continued, "Beth really appreciated the companionship that you offered her, and both of us found your stories to be an incredible turn-on. We talked endlessly about the wild and erotic images you write about."

Well, compliments like that will always get my attention -- as will the face and body and voice that this mystery man possessed. And the mystery itself may have been the part that was the most intriguing to me. So I promised to keep what he told me to myself, and to not be judgmental or shocked by anything that I learned. With that assurance, he decided to trust me, and then he told me their story, which went something like this:

His name is Dale. He, too, was married. Beth and he met in a general chat room on America Online, where they discussed parenthood and marriage and eventually the boredom and stagnation of their lives. Given the anonymity of the Internet (I learned that Beth used the alias "OpeningUp" as her screen name, which said a lot about where she was coming from when she met people online), the two of them started sharing more and more intimate feelings. Early on, Dale suggested that they move to a "private room", where he thought that they wouldn't have the distraction of all the other people chatting in the public room. He knew that the private room system existed, but hadn't actually used one. Beth immediately asked him if he was trying to "cyber-seduce" her (I like that expression), and when he denied it, she told him that she was disappointed!

Dale discovered that she had been a regular participant in these rooms for a couple of years, and that she looked forward to the safe, anonymous, and wild fantasies that could be played out with her online partners. I had promised Dale that I wouldn't be shocked, but it was hard to maintain my composure to hear that sweet little Beth, member of the PTA and the church ladies auxiliary, was actually a wanton vamp of the computer networks. Over the years, she and I had shared so many conversations. I thought she was telling me EVERYTHING, as I was baring my soul to her. Of course, I, too, had been holding back, not telling her one important thing -- about my alter-ego as a regular contributor to alt.sex.stories. So it shouldn't have come as such a surprise to find out about Beth's secret life. But it did!

Now my curiosity was getting really revved up. And my interest in this magnetically handsome stranger with the syrupy voice was overwhelming any sense of social correctness that should have been guiding my behavior. Dale was reluctant to get too graphic in his description of what the two of them talked about in the private room. After all, we were talking about someone who had died only a few days ago, who had just been buried within sight of where we sat. Yet it was precisely for those reasons that we found ourselves able to talk so freely, stranger to stranger, connected by our mutual friend for whom we both were grieving.

Anyway, it turned out that Dale and Beth had arranged to have a regular rendezvous every Tuesday morning at 10 o'clock. That explained why she had started coming to the health club only four mornings a week. For an hour each session, they would start with some flirting, then they would verbally undress each other, followed by some torrid sex that transcended the apparent limits of their keyboards. Both Beth and Dale had occasionally experienced orgasms without touching themselves, just from the extreme arousal of the typed conversation. Each time, they would imagine themselves outside of their regular lives, sometimes playing roles as if they were in another time or another city.

They always reserved a few minutes at the end of their session to have a discussion that wasn't about the cyber-seduction. Sort of like the proverbial post-orgasmic smoke-a-cigarette talk. They laid bare the tender wounds of their lives, revealing their vulnerabilities and dreams.

Dale lived in Arizona, so it was both impractical and unwise to meet in person. Despite their exciting fantasies and their unfulfilled "real lives," neither really wanted to take the risk of hurting their families, or endangering the reputations that they had staked out in their communities. Despite their exciting fantasies and unfulfilled "real lives", neither wanted to take the risk of damaging their families or reputations. But eventually, the exhilarating and illicit online affair was like a drug that needed a bigger fix. They made plans to meet, in the flesh (quite literally).

Dale had arrived yesterday, checking into a motel in a neighboring town. He only found out this morning about Beth's accident. He knew it was inappropriate to show up at the funeral, but he couldn't stay away. He needed to see her put to rest, and he found it strangely reassuring to see Beth surrounded by her close friends and families. Of course, he was disappointed at this sudden reversal of fortune. but he was instantly resigned to the reality. His greatest regret was that Beth and he had not gotten to share the single night of physical passion that they had planned. One night was all that they had allowed themselves, and then they had promised to return to their real lives, never to meet again, online or in person! But they couldn't live the rest of their lives without tasting the forbidden fruit just this once.

Now that phrase "the rest of our lives" had a tragic poignancy as it related to Beth. But for Dale, he had reached for the apple and it had been pulled from his grasping hands. His sadness about Beth's death was mixed with understandable frustration for his own tough luck.

As Dale told me this history of the two of them, I found myself stirred by the romance, and titillated by the erotic overtones. I was drawn to Dale not only by sympathy, but also by a rising sexual charge. When he mentioned his frustration at the end of the story,it was clear to me that much of it was sexual frustration. I instantly made a decision which felt totally right at that moment (although it certainly seems reckless as I look back on it). I could be the stand-in for Beth for the one night. His long anticipated union with his cyber-lover could in some fashion be fulfilled, and I could see that this required no sacrifice on my part, for my attraction to Dale was instantaneous, going back to that first moment when I had spotted him during the funeral. By "becoming" Beth for a few hours, I could perhaps be giving her a final tribute. If her angel was watching over us, she could enjoy our sexual encounter in some mystical and vicarious way.

While this plan crystallized in my head, I chose not to explain it to Dale. This wasn't a time for logic. I simply stood up in front of him between his knees, pulled his head to my breasts, and ran my fingers through his long curly hair. "Dale, I want you to do something for me, and for yourself. I want you to let go of reality for a few hours. Tonight I will be your Beth. Right this minute, I am Beth. I want you to forget about my death, to forget about Sue. I want you to celebrate our love, to make love to me with all the passion that you have kept imprisoned for so long. I want to see your body. I want to wrap my hands around your cock. I want you to kiss me all over. And I want you to fuck me like there is no tomorrow. Because there isn't!"

Dale started sobbing softly, and the tenderness of the moment brought tears to my eyes as well. His arms were wrapped tightly around my waist. After dwelling in the grief for a few more minutes, I took the initiative, and reached behind me to take his hands. I pulled them down so that they rested on my ass cheeks. Dale was still hesitant, so I pressed his fingers into my flesh. Eventually, he let go of his self-restraint, and began massaging my ass, gently at first, then more insistently. I glanced around quickly to make sure that there was no one left in the cemetery. Then I gripped the waist of my simple black sheath and began to bunch up the material, pulling the hem up from my knees. I'm not sure that Dale even knew what I was doing, with his face buried between my breasts. With a final yank, I pulled the material out from under his hands. The cool autumn air was in sharp contrast to the fingertips burning into my skin.

Dale was now fully into the illusion of me being Beth. His crying had stopped, and where the fabric of my dress was damp from his tears, I now felt his hot breath wafting against my nipples, making them harder. One of them was trying to poke out his eye. My hands were now resting on his shoulders, and I kneaded the tightness from his neck muscles, slipping my fingers under the collar of his turtleneck. His hands had migrated around and under my ass cheeks, so that he was pushing his fingertips up into my cunt, pressing the thin fabric of my pantyhose into the moisture that had seeped out of my vagina. I normally don't wear this type of underwear when I am expecting any kind of sexual encounter. I had no idea that this would be in the cards today! But I had dispensed with panties, since the hose provided the warmth and modesty that I required for this solemn occasion. Now that stretchy nylon material was providing almost no barrier to the exploring fingers that slid along my puffy labia, flicking over the hooded nub of my clitoris. I hadn't realized how completely aroused I had become, but now I could feel the moisture soaking into the nylon, and the coolness from the air sent shivers up my spine. Or were the shudders caused by the stimulation of the prodding fingers? I gasped with the intensity of it all.

But the seasonal chill was just too much. To say nothing of my fear of being spotted by a passerby. After all, my courage to be sexual on the Internet is quite different from what I feel is possible in my home town. So I pulled away from Dale and let my dress fall back to my knees. I drew his hands up my torso, bumping over my sensitive breasts, and up to my mouth. My lips wrapped themselves around a couple of his fingers, and I tasted my own pungent juices. Stepping backwards a step, I let the grasp of my lips pull him to a standing position. "Let's go to your motel. I'll follow your car," I said, and the sultry tone in my voice surprised me. We walked hand-in-hand out to the dirt road, and kissed passionately one time before getting into our cars. He was driving some clunky looking rental job. I was in my sporty little Miata, with the top up for the weather.

When we got into town, we had to stop at the only traffic light. I used the brief pause to remove my shiny pumps and shimmy out of my pantyhose. I tried to be inconspicuous about my movements, since this was the busiest part of our little town. Now my simple black sheath was my only piece of clothing, and I know I wouldn't be wearing even that much longer. Turning up the car's heater, I let it blow up between my knees, which I separated as much as I could within the tight confines of the driver's seat. The hem rode up high on my thighs. I could immediately smell the unique fragrance that emanated from my oozing cunt. As I tailed Dale's car for the 15 minutes it took to get to his motel, I let my fingers tease myself ever-so-lightly, swirling around my gumdrop nipples, and occasionally dropping down to slide through the lubricated crevice of my naked cunt. I had to restrain myself from touching myself too aggressively, for the temptation was very strong.

Finally, just as the sun was setting in the West, we arrived at the High Hills Motor Lodge. Even before I had pulled to a stop, Dale had hopped out of his car and was unlocking the door to his room. I stepped up to him and through into his tidy little room. When he reached for the light switch, I stopped his hand. Trying to reinforce the illusion, I said, "Remember, I am Beth. You know who I am. You know what I look like from what I told you in the chat room. Let the light from the window be your guide. Let your hands lead you." I was using a monotone voice that I hoped would be hypnotic. "Remember all the wild scenes we have had together. Tonight I want you to make it the best time of all. I want you to tell me how you like it. I am yours for the night. I am Beth. I am yours. Make love to me."