This is a follow-up, not exactly a sequel, to my story, BeachCombing, which you might want to read first, but that I'll try to recap and move on.
In BeachCombing, my wife, Anne (ok, not her name, but the name I used in writing a story about us), and I visited a nude beach on vacation. We met Rick, a naturist local resident, on the beach, and that led to an MFM evening of pleasure for all three involved. Shortly after that, I regret that Anne exited my life, for unrelated reasons I'm not going to explain here. Life's complicated, as I'm sure you know.
I was majorly bummed for a while, but I remembered that nude beach adventure with fondness, and it had nothing to do with my finding myself alone, working along through life in my job in city government, enjoying watching my adult kids thrive (from a distance), and just basically getting along.
Since I'd written Literotica stories before, I took it up again, and after a couple of months on my own, I posted the BeachCombing story, sort of an homage to that great day. As you can see if you look it up, it got a pretty good response, and requests for a follow-up. It turns out there's a story there as well, involving Rick's wife, Linda. But again, this isn't that story - maybe I'll get to that one someday, and it's a great memory as well.
More to the point, I'd taken some photos that day on the beach, before Anne and I met up with Rick, and had induced Anne to take a couple of me, just as a lark, all with my cell phone, so mostly just snaps - no real posing or artistry to it, and nothing even seductive much less pornographic. Being on a nearly deserted nude beach, nude - and taking photos and having photos taken - was admittedly a turn-on at the time. In later months, I occasionally retrieved the photos in the computer, just to reflect and enjoy the memories. One day, while reading over a story in the Illustrated category that included actual photos of actual people, it occurred to me that I could crop and add some of the photos, resubmitting the BeachCombing story in an illustrated version, without showing Anne's face, nor mine. I rationalized that doing that wouldn't really be a violation of any personal privacy, since we'd both be unrecognizable unless a close comparison were made of the photos and us nude, which wasn't going to happen, naturally.
Accordingly, I registered under a new author name and, with an intro that said it was a reprint of someone else's work, edited to include the new author's photos, I cropped and inserted and republished the story, confident I'd protected the various identities and hopeful that the "Illustrated" readers would appreciate the story as much as the "Exhibitionist" folks had. It took no more than a day after the story was published for the scores and comments to accumulate. Checking back the following day, I was stunned to see one comment: "Ah, I recognize you! Both you and 'Anne' are looking good, tiger!"
Yikes - someone claiming to have recognized me, or her?! How!? I immediately retracted the story, and so unless you happened to be reading that day, you never got to see or read it. Then I sat back and waited, I wasn't sure for what.
I figured that if it were just a bluff, no harm had been done by my pulling the story, and nothing further would transpire. If it were true, I'd erased as well as I could, and I'd just have to deal with whatever if and when it came to pass. I realized that if the word got out here locally, my city management job could be on the line, despite my having done nothing illegal or unethical, but just for the city to save face and move on from me, who would be branded a pervert at least - porn writer, indeed! How in the world someone might think they recognized either of us, with our heads cropped out of the photos was beyond me. Worse, since 'Anne' and I had lived in the same town for years, and never anywhere else since before we'd met, if it were true, it might well be someone from around here - that didn't change the best case, but it sure made the worst case even worse!
Over the next week or two I still worried, but less so with each passing day of silence on all fronts, including no further responses or messages on the site.
Then a couple of weeks later, I attended a gathering at a friend's home. It was the typical wine and snacks, people milling around, several conversations going along in groups, while others, me included, just sort of drifted and chatted and moved on. After about an hour of unremarkable but pleasant wining and munching, I went to the guest restroom down the hall from the great room and kitchen where most of the folks were. I relieved myself of some of the wine, flushed, washed, dried and exited, finding Catherine, an old friend of 'Anne's', waiting outside the door. I figured she was just in line to use the facilities, so stepped aside to walk around her back to the party. She stepped back herself, not quite blocking my way, but obviously not moving into the bathroom.
I remarked, "Hi, Catherine. Nice gathering," or something similarly innocuous. She smiled at me and said, "Nice tattoo, Mike! Like I said, looking good, tiger!" And with that, she breezed by me into the bathroom and I heard the door click locked.
I was as stunned as I had been when seeing the initial online comment! OK, I had been recognized, and it had been due to that damned tattoo, that I hadn't even realized was visible in the picture. I'd gotten it years ago when in the service, and it had become a somewhat regretted but accepted part of me that I didn't even notice it or think to blur it out for the story - I was all focused on the faces and mostly on 'Anne's', since she'd have had a fit if she knew I'd posted a nude photo of her on a website. OK, and rightly so. But the tattoo - it's high on the outside of my thigh, such that you wouldn't see it unless I were wearing really short shorts, which I never did, all my gym shorts and bathing suits being the long baggy type, so I was sure that neither Catherine nor anyone in town had ever seen it or even knew of it.
I left the party right away, got home, and reviewed the photos I'd used. Sure enough, about half of it was visible, and that not really identifiable unless you knew what you were looking for - so how in the hell did she know about it?
Moments later, my cell phone rang. "MIke, you left in a hurry - why didn't you stick around?" Catherine's voice said, and I could hear the teasing in it.
Still not convinced of the situation, I said, "Oh, I'd just had enough wine, I guess."
"Nothing to do with the tattoo remark?"
"What - did you make a tattoo remark?" I blustered.
"It's really cute, from what I saw, until you took down the story, that is. You're probably wondering, but 'Anne' told me about it a long time ago, and I was curious then, so she described it. When I read the story and saw the photos of you both, with the tattoo peeking around there, it came back to me and I guessed it might be you. And then when I read the more intimate descriptions of you two, I knew it had to be you. Of course, there are parts of you, and her, that I had only heard about until then, but like I said, you looked - make that look - good!"
I knew I could continue to deny, but I also knew I was busted!
What I worried about was what she had in mind to do with the information, not knowing if maybe she'd managed to copy the whole story herself and so now had proof of the whole thing. I certainly didn't want the photos to get out, and I didn't want the story, or the fact that I wrote erotic stories in my spare time to get out. I had to delve further to know just what to do.
"Ah, so from what I gather, you were told about a tattoo I have, and now you have connected it with some story with photos that you think is about and of and by me?"
"Yup, that about sums it up. The fact that the photos were at the beach, and mostly of 'Anne' in the nude, but with one memorable shot of you full frontal up to the shoulders, should tell you that I'm not just making this up. Oh, and I did some Sherlocking, and found the original story under your other name, so now I've managed to read all your submissions, you naughty, naughty, but so erotic, boy!"
She was right on having seen the story, and now no doubt had busted all my stories, which are pretty personal and all containing some truth, some maybe not so true. Dammit.
"So, what now? I'm glad you enjoyed whatever it is you enjoyed, and if the guy in the photos was attractive, I'm flattered."
"Well, I've given that some thought, and I'm thinking you should come over to my place next Saturday, say at about 10 in the morning? and we can discuss it further."
"Ah, ok, see you then. I trust that, uh, until then I can trust your discretion?"
"Oh, absolutely!" she laughed. "This isn't about exposing you - you've already done that! I just want to chat, find out about the whole story with the fisherman - that really sounded hot - that sort of thing!"
"Not sure what fisherman you're talking about, but ok, I'll see you then," I mumbled, still bluffing, and hung up, thoughts racing without getting anywhere, really. I was busted, she'd kept quiet this long, maybe she really was just sort of voyeuristically interested.
Catherine, for the record, is about 5'5", maybe 130, 140 well-toned pounds, brunette, average figure, probably C cups thanks to the very few extra pounds she carried (and maybe even some "work" - they did look fine and she was wealthy, so that was a possibility. . . ), and those apportioned nicely between breasts and tush. She and 'Anne' were good friends, although Catherine was always the teasing, adventurous one of the two.
Catherine's husband, Dan, is a workaholic real estate developer, frequently traveling around the country but also locally involved and perceived as a pillar of the community, with charity support and club doings. He makes a lot more money than I do, but he is also frequently absent, working I guess, from seeing her go to various activities on her own, like the cocktail party that night. They live very well, out on the lake in a house way bigger than they need, and from what I'd heard, both of them drink a bit more than they should, but there are no rumors I'd heard of fights or infidelity or anything, just living well and busy at things that aren't with each other all that much. Dan's weight has crept up a bit over the past decade or so, so he has that soft country club golfer thing going. Fun at a party, hardly a threat. Basically, nice folks that I'd lost track of when I found myself socially solo.
