The Writing Challenge
There was no escaping from the extreme heat outside. The air-conditioned office was the only room In the house comfortable enough to spend time in. The message from the government was clear. During this time everybody should stay in quarantine and not to go outside. We were all trying to prevent a virus from spreading, so the best thing to do was stay inside the house. But the problem was that I was doing that already for quite some time now.
At this point the office was the only place to be. But I didn't wanted to pick up some work again. I really needed to unwind. But it had to take place in my office. So I pulled up my chair and sat behind the desk. I told myself not to open my laptop. I looked around my desk, took the stress ball from the desk, squeezed it a few times. It was a gift from my brother. He always had subtle messages saying I had to release my stress without actually saying the words. Before I knew it, I had opened my laptop in front of me. I dropped the stressball on the desk again and decide to check my mail. It would just take a minute.
Lets be fair, you know how this goes. You think you are just online for a minute, but there are so many fun things to do on the pc, it always takes longer. So after 10 minutes surfing the web, I found this website where people can write each other stories without knowing each other. It was completely random how two people got connected. And before I knew i made and account and I was in. There were a few things I should take care of and of course I had to put in my email. I used my old email account, the one that I rarely use anymore. I didn't want people all over the world to know my account.
So, I made a password, pressed enter and it was done. Almost immediately an email address was shown in my screen. For privacy reason's I can not include this mail in my story, but I can tell you that it was a weird one. There was no indication for a name, a location or anything for that matter. That exact moment my doubts began to rise. What was it what I was doing? This made no sense! I'm not going to write a message to a complete stranger... Who is this person, I didn't even knew if this was a male of a female. I raised my arm to close the laptop when a short beep sounded from my laptop. It was a message, an email from this weird looking email. Titel; "who the fuck might you be?"
I closed my laptop. This was not my cup of tea. To hell with it, I'm not going to write to a stranger. Case closed. I looked at the paining on the wall. It was a gift for my birthday a few years ago. I remember that I liked it the moment I saw it. One of my friends told my she had taken the liberty to paint my personality. I couldn't made head or tails of it, but still I liked it. She also said the title; hidden diversity.
She explained she thought that I tend to gather friends in my life that are all alike. I didn't agree at the time, but the painting was so vivid that I decided to keep it and enjoy it in my own way.
I looked at the closed laptop. The words "who the fuck might you be" were burning in my mind... there was a person who send me a message. A stranger, speaking to me. I did not agree with such a title, but I must admit I was curious about the person who was writing. So raw, such an uncivilized beginning of a conversation. And yet so sexy. I was puzzled, how could I find this sexy? I realized at that moment that all the conversations I had in my lifetime always started in a similar way, always decent, always correct, never presumptuous, always aligned within the conversation.
I opened the laptop, entered the password and saw the message again in my screen. I clicked on it. The message opened and I started to read. I will spare you all the details, but after a few lines I found out that the person who was writing me was a male, His words made easy sentences and he sounded somewhat basic. There was little expression in his word. Normally that bothers me, but his writing was an exception
He used some words that were unfamiliar to me, but with help of the net I could decipher his message to the fullest meaning. He said he was bored to the bone and wanted someone to talk to. He was alone and had nobody around to talk with, to swear with, to fuck with.
I've never in my life met somebody this raw. The language he used was very different than mine, or what I was used to. But with a little effort I could tell we were somehow sharing the same experience. We just were different handling the situation.
I decided to return a message to him. There was nobody else to talk to and in some weird way I felt connected to the problem he was having. I tried to compose a nice and friendly reply to him, carefully stepping away from the risk of commenting him on his use language.
Send.
Suddenly I found myself staring at the screen, waiting for a red dot to appear in the inbox. I most certainly was not going to wait for him. So I took some papers out of the drawers for me to read. Although there was only one page, I could not concentrate on the words I was reading. My eyes moved from the papers to the screen regularly. Damn it, I was waiting for him to reply.
Was I this desperate? To wait for a stranger to send..... and there it was, the red dot. Prove that he was online, prove that he read my message, prove that he responded. I forgot about my first thoughts and opened his reply.
This time there were more words. He was telling me who he was, where he came from and a bit of his history. He was a mechanic, specialized in tuning cars, doing light repairs and dashboard modifications. He worked in a garage near his home town, but hadn't been to work for weeks now because of the virus. He had lived with his parents for quite some time and was now self sufficient and living on his own. He was renting a small apartment but was very happy with it. He missed working, specially one other mechanic who had became a friend after some time.
Then he described the fact that his friendship with this fellow became more than a friendship. They were both alone and helped each other out in need. There was no shame of any kind when he told me he also fucked him regularly. He like to fuck, his friend like to be fucked. And this was their way to release some of the stress they endured during working hours.
I could not believe what I just heard. His guy was trusting me with his experiences in his sexual life. Without any shame of second thoughts he described some details of how they fooled around, how they slapped each other on the ass, how the agreed to just wear the overall, so they could do a quick one anytime. This guy was really into having sex with his coworker.
At this time, I must admit, I was really turned on. Although I had never pictured myself having sex in some garage, this guy was making it sound like it was the only an the most natural way of having a piece of each other.
I couldn't understand why this made me so horny, but I couldn't care less at that moment. I wanted to write him back, give him some answer, but also try to be as forward as I could. I wanted to know more about him.
So I began to write, I admitted to him that he turned me on with his words. And that this was a new experience to me. But I also wrote that I liked his style, and that I was curious about him.
Send
Then there was a long wait, it was unbearable. It took a full hour before I got a reply of him, but what a sweet reply it was. I began to read his words where he explained that something had come between and that he had to do something. At that point I did not understand what that meant. He continued his message. He liked the fact that I got turned on by him. By his words. Normally people get turned on by his looks he explained, but this time someone got turned on by his words. And he liked it. So he wanted to do something for me in return. He ended his message with the word : "just open the surprise".
I was puzzled again, what surprise, I scrolled down to find nothing below. What was he trying to say. My heart skipped a beat when I saw that he had send an attachment with his message. He file was called "surprise". How did I not see this! He had send me a file and I had no idea what it was. With great anticipation I opened the file. My videoplayer opened and the next thing I saw was the start of a video of a hallway. I saw a door with a lock and on the right there was hanging some long blue coat. Wait, that was no coat, that was an overall. That was his overall he used in the garage. Then he stepped into the shot. I saw a good looking guy in his jeans and t-shirt, walking to the overall. He started to undress in front of the video, but as if he was changing clothes at work. As if he wasn't aware of being filmed. With the greatest ease he kicked out his boots and pulled his jeans down. He used his feet to get grid of the jeans that was now laying on the ground on his feet. And with a quick move he pulled his shirt out. There he was for a short time, standing in his briefs. In full glory. Not an overly trained body, but still strong and fit. Just the way you'd image of someone working hard in a garage. And there was no doubt about it he had a major boner, there was no hiding about it. But without stopping he continued his act and grabbed the overall. I was surprised how easily he slipped into his overall. This was evidence enough for me that this routine was a daily one. He zipped up and adjusted his crotch somewhat. And then he grabbed his crotch again and squeezed without hesitation into that cock I saw the contour of moments ago. Al was done in maybe 20 seconds, but what a glorious second they were.
I was stunned, I was hooked, I forgot about all around me. The only thing that I could look at was my screen. It felt like something magical had happened to me. I was dazzled by this guy, turned on in a way I was never turned on before. I played the video again and decided to grab my own cock at the same time he did. And again. I don't know how may time I played this video, but he really got in my head.
If you would ask me in any other circumstances if I also jerked off at the video I would deny it. But since I'm sharing this story with you and since you don't know me, I can tell you honestly I did. The thing that turned me on the most was that he made this video just for me, it was recorded about 20 minutes after my message. So it was his gift to me.
I wanted to send him a message back, but there was no way I could top this. In no universe could I send him a picture or a video that would have the same effect. And I knew it. It made it hard for me to reply at his message. I told him what I though of the video and what I had done with it. I told him what joy it brought to me and how I enjoyed jerking off at his video. That I freezed the video to study his pose. Imagining how he would smell and how that would turn me on even more. I thought this was the only reply I could give him. I was choosing my words carefully, because I thought it was important for him to get the right image. Then there was little time between my sending the message and receiving another one from him. He said the following:
"Fuck, you made me cum dude. I read your mail and fuck you turned me on with the things you describe. "Do that again! Send me words where you describe something like you did before. Or make it a story, make me part of your story, let me be in it and tell me. Make me believe I'm in my garage, and you come in. Tell me...Make me cum again..."
He wanted me to write about him. How was it possible that he could be turned on the same way I was turned on. We mad a connection at that moment, locked in a strange bond that was taking place thru the internet. We could me miles apart, but at that moment I've never felt closer to anyone. So I began to write him a story. It took me half a day to finish it, but when I did I was very satisfied with it. I wrote that story just for him, and promised it would stay that way. I will keep my promise, so I cannot share that one with anyone else.
I could never have imagined that this kind of connection was possible, I consider myself lucky to have found it. It was the beginning of a strange and unusual friendship. Little did I know that even more would come out of it...
Thanks for reading my story. If you have anything you'd like to add to this story or if you have similar experience yourself? Don't hesitate to let me know. I love to hear it. You know now that I like to write. Who knows what happens next?
You can reach me at frizcotree@aol.com, glad to receive YOUR message. Frizco...