Tess was the first face to appear on last week's hangout. He eyes flickered around the screen, and then her face transformed from blank concentration to smiling recognition. This was, shall we say, a relief.
I have been working with Tess for two years. In her mid-twenties, she is around half my age but we get on well partly due to the fact we share a sense of humour and taste in music and partly due to the complete lack of physical attraction between us. I'm no great looker (early 50's, overweight, balding and grey -- hardly catch of the century) and, whilst she is hardly unattractive, she's no great looker either... a little short, a little overweight, a little plain. She was soft and plump and pale. Don't get me wrong, there have been times when I've looked at her lecherously: the time when we had been moving desks and her blouse had gaped every time she bent over, revealing a small soft breast and pink little nipple; the days when she sat next to me and her short skirts rode up her thighs and her tights stretched thin. But nothing had ever come from it, not even remotely.
"Hi," she said, smiling, and the relief continued to build. "How are you doing?"
I smiled back broadly "Fine thanks. You?"
"Yeah, all good.... busy...."
She was sat on her bed, legs crossed. She was wearing black leggings and a short black denim skirt, a tight black top which was showing a little bit of cleavage and a beige cardigan. Tess had a round face with a small mouth and a fringe of dark hair which slanted across her forehead. I hate that haircut. Apart from sitting in front of a computer working all day, I have been passing the lockdown time by making porn fakes of a number of my colleagues and she has proved the hardest to get right. I'm divorced and live alone, so it's not as if I have much else to do in the evenings, and I have no intention of sharing my pornographic masterpieces online -- they are for my own personal pleasure. I had been slightly disappointed with some of my early efforts but have realised that the key is just to paste the face (and not the hair) onto pictures and then mess around with colour and hue and temperature until the skin colour of the original and new face matched. For most of the women this has been easy and I have made some fantastically perverted pictures of the women I work with in any number of compromising positions, but that fringe has made it hard to put Tess's face onto any other picture. It has driven me mad.
I was about to apologise, when a ping announced that someone else had joined, the boxes re-arranged themselves and Laura appeared. Now Laura -- she was someone who I definitely fancied and who I'd had a great deal of success on faking. She was a tall elegant redhead, slim with pert breasts and long legs and a handsome husband and she was
completely
out of my league. The nearest I have ever going to get to having sex with her was superimposing our faces onto picture of people fucking and the playlist I've created on Pornhub called "
thing's I'd like to do with Laura"
: 247 videos of pretty redheads being used and most definitely abused. Fucking, sucking, gangbangs, anal, double anal, nipple clamps, tit torture, piss and self pissing, large insertions, strange insertions, fisting, anal fisting, self-fisting and bukkake -- I've found a video with them all and thought of Laura as I watched them, dick in hand until I came.
"Hiiii," she drawled, and the moment for my apology passed. She was sat on a sofa, leaning on the arm with her legs tucked up next to her and a large wine glass in her hand. I must admit, I was slightly disappointed by the fact she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and not a pretty little dress, but beggars can't be choosers.
One by one, other people joined the meeting. We had decided, early on when lockdown was looming, to meet between 8.00 and 9.00 every Tuesday if we could, to keep our spirits up and for those of us who lived alone to see a familiar face. This was meeting number five or six, I'd lost count to be honest, and numbers had dwindled slightly over the weeks. Rosetta had dropped out for example, which was a pity because she was by far and away the prettiest of my colleagues even if she was a bit of a pain in the arse (she'd earned the nickname "princess" quite early after joining the company). Steph still joined us, her massive tits sometimes showing more than she'd like if she got the camera angle wrong, and Big Rose (big as in tall as well as big in other ways) was always there too. There were a few more that dipped in and out, a few of the younger men and older women, but we were the core, sat by ourselves with a glass of booze.
By 8.05, everyone who was going to be there was there and all the usual social niceties had been completed. I sat on the floor with a beer in my hand and my laptop on the table in front of me, relaxing against the sofa behind me. I'd almost forgotten my fear. Almost.
"So, what's the weirdest thing that's happened to anyone this week?" Steph asked in her Aussie twang.
Tess's face lit up; my heart sank. I knew what was coming, the only question was how bad this was going to be.
"Some very kind person sent me..." She leaned forward to pick something, exposing her cleavage a little more. "....THIS!" With a flourish, she held up a fox tail butt plug.
The fox tail butt plug I had sent her.
There is no excuse for my behaviour; I know that I overstepped the mark and that my private fantasies should not have spilled over into reality. I know that middle aged men should not send unsolicited sex toys to young women. All I can offer is an explanation. The previous week, she had been talking about how her sister had asked her to read a bedtime story for her niece, a way for the young girl to keep in touch with Aunty Tess. The main character in the book was a fox, and she had quipped about getting in touch with her foxy nature for the reading. Everyone else had laughed. I had gone online and drunkenly ordered a 4-inch fox tail butt plug. At least I ordered it in black to match her hair. The following morning, I had woken up filled with guilt and remorse and tried to cancel the order. Unsuccessfully.
The faces on screen said it all: everyone (apart from me) was wide-eyed with a mixture of shock, horror and hilarity. I don't think anyone noticed that my own face was more horrified than amused, they were all focusing on Tess.
Amid the screams of laughter (and one bemused look from a more innocent member of the group), I could hear the questions beginning.
"What the fuck....?" Was the main one, expressed in different ways.
"
Who...
" was the next most common, and neither made me feel better about myself.
"Have you tried it out?" was Laura's question, which made me feel a bit better about myself and led to more laughter.
"Err... it's a bit... big?" Tess replied and, thankfully, the conversation began to move on without my having been exposed as a perverted old letch.
I did notice, however, that Tess kept on fiddling with the toy, stroking the tail, cupping the bulbous metal head in her hands. And smiling.
The hangout carried on. I don't know whether it was the alcohol consumption or the tone set by Tess's revelation so early on, but the talk took on a distinctly sexual nature. It started as double entendres and the sort of "Oooooh, matron!" comments so beloved of the Carry On films and early 90's
Viz
magazines. As usual, it was Laura who took it to the next level by talking about how she'd had to stop having sex earlier because her cat was watching".
"You had sex this afternoon?" asked Tess incredulously. Laura rolled her eyes.
"How did you know?" asked Rose before realising what she had asked, giggling and rephrasing. "How did you know the cat was watching?"
"You don't
have
