NOTE: Happy holidays to adults. Anyone else shouldn't be reading this.
Stan sat down at his desk and began typing.
"Dear T Man,
Thanks for your e-mail telling me how to download big tit clips from newsgroups. It was most helpful! I've got quite a few on my hard drive right now. God, did you see that one where the black guy with the big dick really gives it to the chunky girl with other-worldly big tits? Jesus, I'm creaming just thinking about it! He pounds so hard her boobs slap her in the face! In the nicest way, of course. Then when he slips his still-hard cock between those monstrosities, and it's STILL big enough for her to get a good slurp every time it comes near her mouth! Man, that was sweet. Anyway, thanks again. It makes me wonder how I used to get along back in the days when I had to go into a video store where nobody knew me! : )"
He glanced toward his office door. It didn't look like anyone was around, and if someone passed by the office, all it would look like was that he was typing, right? Stan snickered, figuring anyone would think he was working hard. He turned back to his e-mail.
"Please send me more links, especially to those sites that feature natural big titted girls. Those are my very favorite. Not that I would kick any of the huge implant-enhanced strippers out of my bed for eating crackers, but natural is best. Real rules!
Your e-friend,
Bob Mann"
Stan had chosen Bob Mann as his Internet name. It was close to Boob Man, but it still sounded like a real name. He clicked on "Send" and closed the program. He grabbed his notebook and headed down to the conference room for his weekly staff meeting.
Now, Stan wasn't foolish enough to be talking about such matters on his company's e-mail system. He'd heard about people who got in trouble talking dirty in company e-mail. No, he'd signed up for one of those web-based free e-mail services, so he could use it anywhere--at home or at work--without anyone being able to trace it. Stan only LOOKED at big boob web sites at home... but he figured it was safe to E-MAIL messages about them from work. After all, he wasn't Stan when he did that. He was "BobMann@dotcom.com".
Stan took his usual seat as the staff meeting began. Stan's boss cleared his throat and began to speak.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen...the holiday season is approaching. Several people have asked me if there will be any office exchange of gifts this year. I know it's been tough economically, but I'd really like to continue the Secret Santa program this holiday season." The manager looked around to try and get a sense of whether this was the right decision or not. "I don't want to tax anybody financially, but people get such a kick out of having a 'Secret Santa'. Let's keep the gifts modest, ten dollars or less. Everyone will be given a name, and you'll be that person's 'Secret Santa'. You'll leave clues all the way up until Christmas Eve. If your person hasn't figured out who you are, give your gift. It's up to you whether you want to reveal your identity or not."
Stan looked at some of the other employees. He'd love to be picked as Secret Santa for some topheavy honey... but his company was sorely lacking in busty babes in its workforce! He sighed. Well, he'd do the Secret Santa bit... but it didn't seem like it would be much fun.
"All right!" said the manager, not knowing whether people were happy about the Secret Santa program or not. "Let's go on to other things. There's has been a certain amount of abuse of company Internet connections that we want to address..."
Stan tuned the rest of the boss's speech out. They must be talking about guys stupid enough to download porn at work. That wasn't him. He even got a company-generated log of his activity every morning. All it showed, outside of normal work-related stuff, was a number of visits to dotcom.com--where he read and wrote his personal e-mail. Stan knew that wouldn't attract attention. After all, lots of people went to dotcom.com to check stocks, read headlines, or use its search engine.
The droning of the boss nearly lulled Stan into a sleep-like state. Fortunately, the meeting came to an end before any embarrassing snoring began. Stan ambled back to his office.
"Nearly finished! I'll be out of your way in a minute," said an unfamiliar feminine voice as soon as Stan pushed his office door open.
Stan had a puzzled look on his face as he surveyed the person seated at his desk. Maybe it was an overstatement to call it a feminine voice. Its owner had close-cropped hair, horn-rimmed glasses, loose blue jeans, and a bulky brown sweater. She had the look that typed the word DYKE on Stan's subconscious before he had any other chance to learn anything about this person. He blinked. "Who are you?" he asked.
The woman stood up and extended her hand. "Jesse's my name," she said. "Really Jessica, but everyone's always called me Jesse." She punched a few characters on Stan's keyboard. "I'm from the IS department. You know, Information Systems? I don't know why they say Systems--it's just the computers we work on. Just checking a few things on your hard drive."
"Like what?" Stan wanted to know. "I haven't been having any service problems."
Jesse smiled. It was a friendly smile. "No, of course not! It's just that..." Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Someone back at corporate said you had downloaded some inappropriate software. I checked. It's just Flash. You need that for some business web sites, I know. I guess they just didn't recognize it." She began to gather her papers.
"Hey, wait a minute... Jesse," said Stan, fearing the worst. "Did you find anything that...?"
"No, no!" she said, making her way out of the office. "Not really. But--I'd be careful, if I were you. Understand?"
Stan nodded.
"Nice meeting you!" said Jesse and she maneuvered her bulky form through the door. "And if you DO have any problems with your computer, you know where to find me!" And she was gone.
No, Stan thought, I DON'T know where to find you. He was never sure where the computer people hung out. They just seemed to appear from time to time, the Information Systems department. He sighed and clicked on the Internet Explorer icon. In a moment, he was at his dotcom.com e-mail queue. He had a new message!
He clicked in. It wasn't a message from the fellow big tit lover he'd dropped a note to earlier. It was labeled "A Gift" and it said it was from "Stealth Claus".
"Stealth Claus"? Secret Santa!
Usually, Stan deleted messages from people he didn't know. Virus risk, after all. But this...? He clicked on it to read more.
"This first little gift is one of advice," read the e-mail. "Not all the things you say in here are nice." Oh, it's in verse, thought Stan. "You think your boss can't read these notes, be they short or long/But if you think that, you may find you are wrong."
"Signed,
Your Stealth Claus"
What the hell was this? Stan was a little spooked. He clicked "Sign Out" and even cleared the Internet history list.
Stan stayed away from his dotcom e-mail queue the rest of the business day. The note upset him. Did it mean that someone in the corporate office had been reading his notes about downloading big tit clips?
Didn't they have better things to do?
When the working day was over, Stan entered his bachelor apartment and immediately went to his computer. Here, he was safe to surf as he pleased. The company can't possibly care what he does in his own home. He couldn't wait to check that e-mail queue again.
There was another note from "Stealth Claus".
Stan clicked to open it.
"Your lust for big busts is very well known,
You search for them at work as well as at home.
And although every woman's blouse is carefully inspected,
You may find what you're looking for--in places you never suspected."
Geez, another poem, thought Stan. What is this? Are these clues from my office "Secret Santa"? Stan decided they couldn't be. No one in his office knew that Stan was "BobMann@dotcom.com".
Or did anyone?
When Stan arrived at the office the following morning, he nearly jumped ten feet in the air as he unlocked his office door and found his desk already occupied.
