Who Is Next? (short)

The next time you drop off your computer to get it fixed, I hope you'll think of me. Being an IT guy, I am privileged to observe a world that people don't often see. The truth is I get to see people at their most private moments. No one cleans their computer before bringing them in for my inspection, so I get to see what people write and all the pictures that people have in folders that they think are hidden from my wandering eye. My boss is an irritable bald gentleman called Tucker who insists that we should just ignore the things we see on other people's computers. I can't ignore it though and in a way, it has become an addiction for me.

It all started when an amateur erotic fiction writer dropped off her computer. I'll never forget this woman. She was stunning and dressed for summer with her breasts out as she peaked over my counter. Her long red hair was tied back and even though she was pushing forty, she had a good shape to her. She liked to write about guys in their twenties pleasing older women. Her details were indistinguishable from real life. The tight wet pussy that she would describe was no doubt her own as it was covered in soft red fur. I practically shot my load reading her story about getting her toes sucked. There is just something fascinating to me about a woman who knows what she wants and will do anything to get it. I had to believe that her stories were autobiographical.

Then I dug further only to find a picture of her doing just that, getting pleased. There was only one picture but it was her weakened from a night of sex with her mouth hanging open in a light pant. Her eyes were wild with release and her cunt was fully exposed as he legs lay open. I printed a copy of that picture. I took the picture home and couldn't believe the load I shot on her two dimensional cunt.

I imagined this woman on a Saturday night in her house with her legs spread as a twenty year old college frat boy lazily laps at her swollen cunt. When I was younger, I would dream about women in their forties and here she was living it.

After that I started to peak into everyone's private life. It was amazing how open people were when they felt no one was looking. For instance, a fat guy liked to take pictures of his self as he masturbated. I was less interested in his reddening cheeks so much as I was interested in his voyeuristic photos in an album marked spank materials. Unsuspecting women in public bathrooms were photographed in ways that suggested hidden cameras in his shoes. I'd catch a glimpse of a chubby black woman with her legs spread and her white panties down around her ankles during her most intimate acts. I wasn't like him though, the moments I stole came to me.

Another photo would be two girls kissing at a party in the corner of a busy crowd. Maybe I was the same as him in a way. He could see a world that not many people fathom.

The amateur porn stars were few and far between, but there was one who liked to photograph his women tied up. The big smiles on their faces were as suggesting as he would use a Hitachi wand to stimulate them. Every girl was different from the last with an arrangement of different sized titties and half-parted lips. He spared no expense in his camera equipment and it really showed in the lines of the women's legs parted and contorted in rope. I would go home dreaming about the Indian girl with her legs almost up to her face and the way her black bush beckoned for just a hand as it expelled glistening moistness.

The most interesting however was the woman who wrote a journal about her real exploits. While everything else made me inquisitive as to what was fact and what was fiction, she was all real. She would talk about trips to New York where she would do drugs for days and lie under any man who would have her slender tan body.

I loved to view them in any way possible. Sometimes I would have to go for days without a fix and all I would think about would be the next computer to grace my counter. My boss never questioned me. So, who is next?