The Blog
--- INTRODUCTION ---
Having reached the executive level of a major insurance company, Susan Hastings was content. Senior Vice president was an important and prestigious position that she'd worked hard for, and about as high on the corporate ladder as she wanted to climb. She knew all too well, the stresses her boss would occasionally share with her over late night cocktails. Her position in the company was safe, despite all the recent lay-offs, and she especially enjoyed making the high level decisions her subordinates couldn't (or wouldn't) make. She was also proud of her ability to keep the fires away from The Boss. She'd learned a lot in her twenty years with the company, made all the necessary connections, and no amount of coaxing from her peers would make her change her mind about moving up. Her pay was far more than she would ever need, the company paid for her Mercedes, and she even got a kick out of pulling into her personal parking space near the front door. Every morning she saw: - Ms. Hastings – stenciled on the pavement, which brought a satisfied smile to her face.
Susan was pretty and trim, usually taking the stairs rather than the elevator, to get her blood flowing.
Exercising was one of her vices. She jogged regularly, ate right, and always had perfect hair, skin, makeup, nails and. . .legs. The lady was all legs. She managed to conceal them as much as possible under her tailored business suits, but the men in the office knew there was something special hiding in there. Watching her walk back and forth in front of the management staff, pointing out actuarial tables, and profit and loss statements was an event no manager (male or female) would ever miss. She exuded class and professionalism while speaking to the room, but her perfect figure could not be denied. Women loved seeing what designer shoes she was going to wear, while the men would gleefully sell their first-born to the gypsies, just to see her naked.
She often told people that exercise was one of her only vices. The one she didn't brag about was the internet. She spent hours surfing the web ever since it was connected to the office computers. She was careful not to let it interfere with her work responsibilities, but whenever there was a lull in the action. . .It was time to go shoe shopping! She would often hurry home to continue her web surfing if she was hooked on a story or two, and after a glass of wine and dinner, she'd log back in. It was a great diversion, and complete stress relief from any drama that had developed during the day.
Being (what she called) "terminally single," she also toyed with the idea of trying out one of the many dating websites available. But, after browsing through dozens of pictures, she'd usually just shut the whole thing down in frustration, pour herself another glass of wine, stare at the TV, and wander off to bed.
The next day the entire routine would repeat.
One night however, down at the bottom of one of the many dating sites she'd visited, there was an interesting ad. It read:
SHARE YOUR MOST INTIMATE SECRETS WITH OTHER PEOPLE JUST LIKE YOU!
TELL YOUR DARKEST SEXUAL DESIRES TO COMPLETE STRANGERS . . .
AND REMAIN TOTALLY ANONYMOUS!
"Wait a minute! Just like me? What the hell does that mean? These are complete strangers and they're going to tell me their Darkest Sexual Desires? And I'm going to tell them mine? That sounds like Home Base for Weirdos if ever I've heard one. The Mother Ship of perverts!
NO THANK YOU!"
But, before clicking it away, she thought about it for a minute. She sat back in her big office chair and stared at the blinking cursor, just begging her to click on the link. After all, her darkest sexual desires weren't so off the wall. Oh sure . . . maybe the occasional lesbian fantasy, or masturbating to the thought of being taken by force by some handsome young man...how bad could it be? Besides, the wine was loosening her up, and it's still early. She was still dressed from work, except for kicking off the $1700.00 Louboutin heels, she'd enjoyed all day.
She finally clicked on the link and made herself comfortable. The little jacket she'd worn all day came off, and she draped it over the back of the chair. She left on the navy blue skirt and sheer white blouse. One of her little pleasures at work, was pretending not to notice the other executives trying to sneak a look through the thin blouse at one of her sexy bras. She'd often wonder if their wives had gotten an extra hard pounding that night. Had they thought about HER while fucking their loving wives? Hmmm. The thought made her smile.
The website turned out to be a collection of blogs. It said there were thousands of personal blogs from people discussing everything from animal rights to animal sex. She scrolled around the page looking for anything remotely normal, but then again, this was supposed to be Secret Desires right? It dawned on her that this might be fun, and noticed that some peoples' fantasies were just to have sex. Just plain old two people one-on-one sex. Not as weird as she first imagined. Sure there was plenty of way-kinky fantasies, dealing with farm animals and fucking your own mother, or the family cat, but slowly she started to feel more comfortable, and clicked on a button that read: Tell YOUR story!
She stared at a blank white page and every thought in her head dissolved. And there was that damn blinking cursor. It was relentless. And it made her crazy.
She pressed the BACK button instead. One story she'd only read the title of had caught her eye.
It was: "I think I'm a lesbian."
Susan had no problem with lesbians and hung out with two gay couples whom she adored. Everyone was one happy family, and pretty much just wanted to be left alone to be themselves. It was the "I THINK . . ." that got Susan's attention. She started to read the blog from a woman who couldn't reach orgasm unless she imagined that another woman was going down on her.
"OK!" She thought, sarcastically. "You ARE a lesbian, get on with it! End of story. . . God I'm so mean!" She thought. "What's come over me?"
She continued reading.
The woman went on to tell about a twenty-five year marriage of mostly unsatisfying sex with a man she loved dearly, but who never brought her to an orgasm. The story was heartfelt, sensual, filled with very explicit sex fantasies, and was above all, heartbreaking. The sex parts however had her squirming in her chair. The parts about another woman licking this stranger's most sensitive area had her wetness starting to flow. Susan realized all too well, that she too had envisioned another woman kissing her while masturbating...more than once. One of her own Darkest Secrets was starting to become very clear.
Susan hiked up her skirt enough to rub her middle finger over her wet panties just to verify what she had felt inside her. "Dear lord" She thought. "That didn't take long." Without another thought, she raised her knees up against the closed center drawer of the desk, her two feet slightly off the floor, skirt up to her ass, she lightly rubbed her wet pussy over the outside of her soaked panties. Pulling them to one side, slid her finger inside, and began to fuck herself furiously. Her fingers rubbed hard against her clit as she fantasized about the stranger lady's tongue licking her clit. Arching her back, moaning loudly, she came in a groaning, grunting spasm, again and again.
Her head was spinning from the sudden excitement and powerful release. Those dirty little stories, and her secret, wanton lust had driven her to orgasm, again.
