Today's technology can make one a little paranoid. I'm well known in my rather conservative community and the last thing I would need would be for people to find out about my fantasies. Like many people, I have a phone, a tablet, a laptop, etc. and I connect to my work network from home frequently. Lately, I'd become somewhat obsessed about my internet trail and fearing my browsing history being discovered inadvertently through some virus, cookies or some other thing of which I was unaware. To avoid this unwanted fate, I bought a new tablet, set it up with a fake name and resolved never to connect to my home or work network with it and would never access my email or any site that was connected to me. Instead, I would use only public wi-fi, keep it separate from all personal information. It would be my porn computer, the vehicle to live out my alternative identity on-line.
To my neighbors and my co-workers, hell, even to myself, I'm a straight-laced, regular guy. No one would suspect my hidden desires. Most of the time, I hide them from myself as well. The nasty things that I want, deep inside, are not to be spoken out loud, not to be thought about outside of the moments when I slip away from myself and indulge. These moments might be weeks apart, they might be months, but sooner or later, they creep up no matter how I try to avoid them. My mind will wander and soon my cock is stiffening and I know it won't be denied. That's when I retreat to my porn computer. I've downloaded hundreds of stories but even still, I need to go online to refresh my supply. Sometimes I can content myself with some old favorites, other times I need to go out in search of a public network where I can gather more porn to feed my secret lust. It was one of these missions for fresh stimulation that caused things to begin to unravel.
I drove to a coffee shop the next town over. There were just a few other people there when I arrived, all minding their own business, some absorbed in conversation, some alone and staring at a laptop or smartphone. I settled in at a table in the corner, facing the mostly empty café so that my screen was well shielded from anyone possibly seeing what I was there to browse. I opened my browser, thought of just diverting myself with some sports news but I knew I was kidding myself. I didn't want to admit it and without really thinking about it, I typed in literotica.com, clicked on Stories and then Gay Male. My cock stiffened at simply clicking the link, hidden desire bubbling to the surface. I thought of just grabbing some of the new stories, downloading them quickly and heading home to stroke myself, as I so wanted to do, but the roster of stories, one after another, held me. My shame only aroused me more, as it always did. Not just any gay story will do either. I don't just secretly desire to have sex with another man. No. It's more than that. I click on a story that seems promising and it has many elements that draw me to my secret place. I read. My cock throbs uncomfortably in my pants. When I get to the end of the story, there's a list of "Similar Stories" and key words. I click on one story after another. Reading each and downloading for later more new favorites. I look up from time to time but try not to look furtive, just a casual glance around to be aware of my surroundings. No one pays me any particular attention. A young couple a few tables away is talking animatedly, a guy across the room talks on his phone as he types away at his laptop, a woman curls up in one of the comfy chairs with her Kindle. I browse through stories, each full of hot gay sex and each with the common thread of my own perspective on it. I can't say it, I can't really even think it, I can only fill up on it until I go home and read some more and stroke myself until all the built up tension explodes from my stiff cock. For now, I keep reading and downloading.
The next time I look up, someone has come to join the guy that was on the phone earlier and they're both looking at his laptop. Then, to my sudden paranoid alarm, they look up at me. They look a little too long and I avert my eyes back to my screen and close my browser. "Don't panic,"I tell myself. These fantasies keep me on edge in more ways than one. Even with my spot in the corner, where they couldn't possibly see, I imagine they know what I'm doing. I look up and the original guy has closed up his laptop and they're coming towards me.
Panic and shame wash over me. "Get it together," I admonish myself, "jesus, they can't possibly know what you're doing."
They keeping coming right towards my table and before I even know what's happening, they sit down. Neither says anything, they just smile, or is it a smirk? With a casual tone that I certainly don't feel, I say, "Hey, how you doing?"
The guy that was here when I got here finally says, "Good. We just thought we'd warn you that these public networks aren't near as secure as you seem to think they are."
A giant knot forms in my stomach and I struggle to respond as if my heart is not racing, "Yeah, I never do any banking or anything like that."
The first guy, smiles, I imagine knowingly again, I can see now that he's a few years younger than me. A normal looking guy, nice looking, I guess, if I were to think such things. "Well that's smart", he says, "but I'm guessing you wouldn't want anyone peaking over your shoulder, so to speak, at what you are looking at."
"Well, not sure why anyone would want to peak over my shoulder to read ESPN."
That smile again. He puts his laptop on the table facing slightly away from me, opens it and starts typing. I freeze, silently watching, waiting for what feels like a train wreck.
""First Time Cocksucker; "Curious Whore"; "How I Became a Gay Cock Slut"; "From Husband to Cumslut". Wow, that's quite a reading list."
I do my best not to look like I want to get up and run out, though I do. "What? I don't know what you're talking about," I offer hopelessly.
"Listen," these networks are easy to hack and sometimes I just hang around to see what people do when they think no one is looking. It doesn't usually turn out so spectacularly, so when I got a load of what you were up to, I gave my friend Dave here a shout to come on over to meet you."
"Well I guess you've done that, so why don't we all just move along, you've had your fun."
He smirks and lets out a little chuckle. "See there, and I thought you were going to keep trying to deny it."
"Look," I say, gaining false confidence, "I don't know what you think you're doing but I think you've got the wrong guy."
"So you're not a closet cocksucker?"
