Chapter 2

The next night, just like always, they got done with work and gathered around the computer. And, as usual they tittered and moaned.

“Dirk!” yelled Linda. “Don’t you want to read with us tonight Dirk?” I had a feeling that Julie had been less than discretionary with her two co-workers, concerning our little tryst.

Boy, was I wrong. But then, I wouldn’t know that until later.

Anyway, I almost put a wrench in the spokes without even knowing it when I said, “Naw, I don’t think so.” See, I knew that if I read with them, surrounded by sweet smelling females, I’d get a monster hardon. I mean if it was a good story, and, for the most part they usually were. And I did not want to have the front of my pants poking out in front of Linda and Jill. If Julie saw it ... no big deal. And, if it would have been just Julie and me there, I’d have read a story and then fucked her brains out.

But it wasn’t just us two.

“Come on Dirk,” whined Linda. “It’s more fun when you’re sitting here.”

Now, if I’d have stopped to think about that, I might have decided that was a decidedly odd thing to say. I mean, in the beginning they didn’t want me there at all. Hell, they didn’t even want me to know what they were doing! And now, all of a sudden ... it’s more fun if I’m there?

But I didn’t think about that. I was busy thinking about how I was going to get out of embarrassing myself. I couldn’t say I found his stories boring. They knew better than that. And I could probably find something wrong with any of the stories ... if you tried hard enough, you could usually do that.

Then Julie torpedoed me. “Yeah, come on Dirk. I think you’ll like this one.”

Now what. If she liked it she might want to ... think about it ... later ... with me ... if you get my drift. I felt my boner starting already. Maybe if I sat down it wouldn’t be so noticeable.

Linda and Julie scooted apart so I could sit between them. This story was called “Peeking At Sister’s Tattoo” and it was just dirty. I mean it was dirty in the old timey sense of being a nasty, dirty, spicy story. And it was different than his other stories. It was told different in a jerky kind of style.

But it was hot. I mean if you were a dirty, nasty, perverted sister-lover kind of guy, it would have you digging through the clothes hamper, sniffing your sister’s panties right now!

Now I’m not a dirty, nasty, perverted sister-lover kind of guy. I have a sister, and she’s nice and I love her and everything, but I just can’t get comfortable with a picture of her and me making the two-backed beast in my mind. In fact, I can’t even imagine that picture in my mind.

I heard a gasp from Linda, beside me, and I glanced at her. Now if she was my sister, I might be be a dirty, nasty, sister-lover kind of guy.

The story got to a place where the kid was sperming his sister’s friend, and then went after his sister too, and Linda’s hand went between her legs. She was wearing jeans and I felt sorry for her. Jeans are so stiff. You can’t feel much through them. I looked over at Julie and her mouth was hanging open. She was breathing fast too.

Then I glanced at Jill. I expected her to look horrified. I mean she’s only 19 or 20, and all this just had to be new and perverted to her. She was leaning forward, that intense look on her face. Then in a low and sultry voice she said very very softly... “Oh fuck!”. She suddenly looked right at me and her mouth went into an “O” and she blushed.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. Then she jumped up and ran towards the one reserved for the ladies.

Linda jumped up and hissed, “Me too,” and took off after Jill.

That left Julie and me there. Julie turned to me and said, “You don’t suppose we’d have time to...” She had this hopeful look in her eye.

“Julie!” I said, shocked. I mean she was the one who said things had to be cool at work, right?

Then she blushed. “Yeah, I know. But it sure would be nice right now.” She leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. “Maybe I’d better go make sure the girls are OK,” and she got up and went to the bathroom too.

I looked back at the story. The little bastard had fucked the third girl too! And she suddenly wanted to be knocked up by him, just like all the others. What a crock! I went to the bottom of the story, where you can write to the author. I didn’t want to use my work email address, but I had one at Hotmail so I could use it when doing business with on-line companies, so I put that one in the “from” spot.

Then I let the bastard have it. I told him that I might have bought off on one girl getting nailed, but that there was no way the others would do it too, especially his sister. I told him that he needed to get real, and besides, after seeing the tattoo through the peephole, that’s the last time it was even mentioned in the story, even though the name of the story was about the tattoo. Then I sent it to him. Imagine, thinking this crap was sexy and foisting it on the public.

Feeling good I looked around. It was kind of boring without all the girls being there. Just for shits and giggles, I sifted through his stories and picked one called “Love On The Range”. It was about a cowboy and I liked cowboys and western stuff. It started out pretty good and after maybe ten minutes I hoped the girls were having fun, because I was having fun. I’d substituted Julie for the mother in the story, and Linda for the blond girl. I figured Jill would take on the persona of the one who got snake bit. I didn’t know any girls as young as the one who “caught” him in the pond, but his description of her was good enough I could see her in my mind. I couldn’t make it all the way through the story before I had to go visit the little boy’s room. Man, for a guy I hated so much, he did have a way with words.

On my next day off I sat around the house again in my boxers, hoping that Julie would show up. I had been reading a lot of B.O.B.’s stories and even though I tried not to like them, I was pretty horny for some reason. Just thinking about sex, probably.

So, when the doorbell rang I was up and had the door open wide before I realized it wasn’t Julie.

It was Linda.

And she was looking fine! She’d done something to her hair and she had on different makeup or something. She was wearing a tube top, that clung to her medium sized breasts like it was hanging on for dear life. Her nipples were clearly visible through the fabric. Short shorts completed her ensemble, not counting the sandals and sunglasses she had on.

She lowered the sunglasses, peering over them at my semi nakedness. My boxers had little hearts on them. I got them from a previous girlfriend for Valentines day and had thought that Julie would get a kick out of them. I felt my face get about the color of the hearts.

“My, my, my” she said, smiling. “Aren’t we decked out for the opera.”

“Um ... sorry” I mumbled. “I thought you were somebody else.”

“Oh really?” she said, looking like she knew some secret. “And who would that be?”

“Uh ... nobody. Never mind,” I said brilliantly. “What’s up?” I added lamely. “Come in. I’ll just go put something on.”

“Oh, that’s okay” she said. “I won’t be staying long. I just need your opinion about something.” She walked past me. Man! She smelled good!

She walked into the living room like she’d been there before, which she hadn’t, and pointed to the couch. “You sit there,” she said.

I sat down, puzzled as to why she’d care where or even IF I sat. “What’s up?” I asked again.

She fiddled with her purse, standing in front of me. “You remember that story we read the other day? The one about the kid whose sister got a tattoo and he peeked at her?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It was pretty stupid. I even wrote our friend Bob a note about it.”

“You’re kidding!” she squealed. “What did he say?”

“Say?” I asked.

“Yeah, when he wrote back. What did he say?” She sounded quite confident that he’d answered my email.

“Um ... I don’t know. I haven’t checked my email,” I said. It was true. I didn’t know anybody outside of work, and sent few emails. I received even fewer.

Linda looked around “Where’s your computer?”

“In the bedroom,” I said.

“Where’s that?” she asked. “Lets go see what he said.”

I was trying to remember what condition my bedroom was in. “Linda, he probably deleted my email right away. I told him the story was no good. He wouldn’t answer something like that.”

Linda turned around and folded her arms under her breasts. My goodness but they were tasty looking things. She had a look on her face that suggested she was not overly pleased with me.

“Dirk, Bob answers all his email if people leave a valid email address. He even wrote to me one time.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I wrote and told him I liked one of his stories and he wrote back and thanked me for reading it.” She had a smug look on her face.

“That’s not answering an email. That’s acknowledging that you sent one.” I was a little upset that I was having to defend myself here.

“Well, I liked it and I bet you dinner that he answered yours too. Are you chicken to look?”

So I trudged back to the bedroom, which, thankfully wasn’t in terrible shaped. The computer was on and the DSL was always on. Linda sat down like she owned the place and said, “What service?” I told her and she accessed Hotmail’s server. “What user name?”

“Here, let me do that” I growled. I tried to put in my user name, which is IronMan and some numbers, and then the password really fast, so she wouldn’t be able to see it, but she was better than I was fast.

“Iron Man? How cute,” she giggled. I had been typing sort of over her shoulder on one side and she turned to look at my boxers, just as blatantly as you can imagine. “Doesn’t look much like iron to me.” She laughed out loud and then giggled some more.

By then I was in and, sure enough, there was a message from Beating Off Bob. I cringed as she pulled it up. My message to him was there and his answer was above it.

It was embarrassing.

First he thanked me for my comment. Then he reminded me that he was writing fantasies, where all boys could shoot three times in a row and spurt streams of semen every time, because it would be fun to be able to actually do that, even though none of us can. Well, not at my age anyway. Then he told me to reread the story because I was wrong when I said he never mentioned the tattoo in the story after the part where the kid peeked.

I already knew I’d screwed up there, because I’d read the story again the next day and saw where the kid sees that his sister’s tattoo is of a dragon.

Then he thanked me for reading and suggested that I relax a little and save being worried about stuff for real situations.

Linda turned around and looked at me. She wasn’t looking at my shorts this time. “That’s the story I asked you about,” she said.

“Yeah. So?” I responded.

“You thought it was trash?!” she asked, her voice rising.

“Well, you know ... I mean all I did was point out some inconsistencies ... um ... I just said it wasn’t very believable.”

“I read what you said Dirk.” she said heatedly. “And I liked that story. I liked it a lot!” she said. She was getting louder and louder. “In fact, Dirk, that’s why I came over here today.” She looked like women do when they’ve proved their point, but you don’t quite understand how they proved their point, or even that they proved their point.

I know you’ve seen that look. They all know how to do it.

Anyway, she was getting upset, and I didn’t want her upset. “Look, Linda, it’s no big deal. I just thought about my sister, and I couldn’t fit her into that fantasy, so I thought it was stupid.”

She looked at me and stood up. “I thought we explained that to you Dirk. You aren’t supposed to think about your real sister. You’re supposed to think about your pretend sister.”

“I don’t have a pretend sister.” I said.

“What about me?” she said. “I’m about the right age to be your sister. Is it completely impossible for you to think of me as your pretend sister?”

OK, guys, now I know you’re all with me and recognize this as one of those trick questions. No matter how you answer it, you can be wrong ... big time. Then I thought back to what had happened with Julie.

My brilliant mind came up with: “OK ... yeah ... you’re right. If I had a pretend sister, I’d wish she was just like you.”

I know all you girls out there are laughing your asses off. But it was the best I could do in a crunch, okay?

The amazing thing, now that I reflect back on it, is that it was enough for Linda. It settled her down.

“And If I was your pretend sister, you’d give me advice wouldn’t you?” She asked that in a more normal voice.

“Sure,” I said. It just popped out before I could stop it.

I just hate it when I open my mouth around a woman.

“Good,” she said, beaming. “Cause that’s why I came over today. I need your advice.”

Oh shit. “Um ... what about?” I opened Pandora’s box, just like that.

“Well,” she said “When I read that story I thought about getting a tattoo. And I thought maybe you’d give me some advice on what kind to get ... and where to put it.”

“Gee, Linda,” I said, putting some sorrow in my voice. “I’m not sure I know very much about tattoos. I mean I don’t even know what kind they have.”

“That’s okay” she said. “When I went to the tattoo place they have the temporary kind? You know that you can put on with water and they stay until you wash them off? Anyway, I got some of them, so we could ... experiment.”

She dug into here purse and pulled out an envelope. She dumped it on my computer desk. There were four or five little pictures, about an inch or two across.

One was a dragon.

“Wow,” I said, impressed. “That’s just like the one in the story.”

She smiled. “Yes, that’s why I got that one. So ... where do you think that one should go? I mean if I get that one.”

She stood back, like that would mean I could make a decision. In the story the tattoo went right inside the border of the girl’s pubic hair. I could see that in my mind, but not on Linda. I’d have to look at her ... pussy ... to visualize that, and I didn’t think she’d appreciate that one bit.

I realized my eyes were firmly fixed on where I wasn’t supposed to look and tore them away, lifting them up. Her eyes nailed me right then and there. She knew exactly where I had been looking.

“Do you think it would look good ... down there?” Her voice was husky. “Like in the story?”

“Um ... I don’t know. Maybe,” I said, swallowing.

“We can put it on,” she said, picking it up from the desk top. “Just to see what you think.”

I already knew what I’d think if she put it on where the girl in the story put it.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, I figured out why she was there. It was just like Julie, who had come over to live out one of Bob’s fantasies with me. She wanted to play some kind of ... game. The funny thing was, all I could think about was how she never ... ever ... talked about the guy who had gotten her pregnant. There could only be two reasons. Either he had abandoned them, or she had run from him. In either case, a woman in that situation has trouble trusting men, so what she was doing with me was pretty extraordinary. She obviously trusted me.

I looked at Linda again. She was medium height, with dark blond hair. She had a nice smile, though she rarely used it. I’d seen her little girl a couple of times and she was a doll, cute as could be. Once or twice I’d thought about Linda, staying alone, never talking about the guy who fathered her child, and about how sad it was that some guy wasn’t graced with her presence in his life. She was a nice woman, who had a lot to offer a guy. I needed to be nice to her.

I had been thinking instead of talking, something I should practice more often, but she was biting her lower lip, waiting for some response from me.

“Shouldn’t we put all of them on?” I asked. “I mean, to get the best idea of which one would be best?”

She looked at me and, somehow, I could tell that the game had really started. She had this different look in her eyes, part hope, part lust, part, “I knew I could get him if I tried.” There was promise in that look. It promised that, if I did things right I’d have a very good time. And it promised that if I did things wrong, it could get ugly.