I dislike arguments. Having such a disagreement with myself was downright ridiculous, yet that was the situation in which I found myself.
What had happened in my home, what had happened to ME---I wanted to report to the authorities and had, in fact, picked up the phone to make the call several times. That other side of my brain wouldn~Rt allow me to place the phone call. I knew the three guys on the local force along with a few of the state troopers who served the area, and I could only guess at what they would think or say behind closed doors if I opened up about the details of the incident. I didn~Rt trust their ability to keep the story quiet, to keep it from leaking into the community. I lived alone, but I existed within a relatively small rural / town community. Even if everyone didn~Rt know everyone, they knew someone who knew someone, and juicy stories had a way of making their rounds. I didn~Rt want to face the possibility of whispers behind my back, of stares quickly pulled away, of conversations with people who were desperately trying to avoid the elephant in the room as I went to the barber shop or to the market or the bakery or the post office. As the lambda on my butt healed, the desire to report the incident faded.
My business, computerized graphic layout and design, allowed me to work from home, but I also kept a small office in town where it was usually easier to meet with local clients. Rachel, my secretary at the office, screened calls so that I was free to work without interruptions in my studio at home. This business was just a one-person operation, but I had been fortunate early on to connect with some go-getters who had stayed loyal to me and continued to use my services as their businesses grew. They referred me to others, and I was on the borderline of having more business than I could handle. I was thinking of expanding the business, but hadn~Rt taken any action in that direction.
Thought I~Rd run into town, have a quick bite to eat at Gladys~Rs, pick up any messages Rachel had for me, grab a few files I needed, and then spend the afternoon working at home. I called Rachel to let her know I was on my way, and asked what I could bring her for lunch from Glady~Rs place.
There were no parking spaces in front of the retro diner called Gladys~Rs Place, so I had to park behind the building. As I walked around front to the entrance, I noticed a state policeman~Rs car. There were people waiting for booths, but there was a single stool open at the counter. If you weighed more than about one hundred pounds, sitting on those stools was a tight fit. If I didn~Rt want to wait for a table, then I was going to need to squeeze in between the state trooper and a manager for the local agricultural co-op. By the time got my ass settled onto that stool, I had wedged my 180 pounds and thirty-two inch waist in between the men on either side of me. The state trooper, who I only knew as Ben, nodded a greeting from the right. Sam, on the left, was a little more talkative since I had done some work for him and the co-op, but he soon settled down to eating. Darlene, ever efficient and effervescent behind the counter, soon took the order for my lunch and Rachel~Rs take-out. While I waited, I became increasingly aware of how tight a fit these seats were. We were literally seated hip to hip and thigh to thigh. I had been so worked up after what happened to me at home a few weeks before, that I hadn~Rt even masturbated since then. Suddenly, beyond a controllable claustrophobia, I became aware of an ever so slight pressure from the thigh which was already against my right leg. Certainly this was accidental. Then there was an ever so slight rubbing up and down with the thigh. Couldn~Rt be intentional. We were packed together in such a way that any movement by a neighbor would be felt. I had an erection that was about to unbutton my Levi 501 button fly jeans from the inside out. Even without underwear, my dick was cramped and really needed an adjustment for comfort sake, but in the tight seating arrangement, that couldn~Rt be done without being really obvious.
Meanwhile Darlene persisted in flirting even as she served other customers. Ben had a rep as a lady~Rs man. Story was he had already been through two marriages, but didn~Rt have any kids. He was a stunningly good looking guy at about six feet two inches, 200 pounds of tightly packed muscle, a strong five o~Rclock shadow at 12:15, and a uniform that added to his mystique. He knew how to return the flirting. Solid, straight arrow Sam, on my other side, was trying not to notice Darlene and was blushing as he hurried through his meal. I had a few exchanges with Darlene, cause she sure hit on me, too. At thirty-two years old, with a successful business, and not any too shabby in the looks department, I was considered a prime catch for some young lady in town. I always used the business as an excuse, saying that because I had to devote so much time to work, it just wouldn~Rt be fair to a wife or family. My meal finally arrived, but between the flirting and the thigh to thigh pressure, I had trouble concentrating on either eating or conversation. I finished my lunch, left a tip, picked up Rachel~Rs tuna melt and iced tea, said goodbye to Darlene and the guys and left. As I backed off the stool at the lunch counter and glanced at Ben, he was sipping coffee, and I could have sworn he had a smirk on his face, but with that lop-sided grin of his~Wit was tough to tell.
I was finally able to do that needed adjustment, and as I drove to the office I could still feel the heat from Ben~Rs thigh against my leg. I needed to get home and have a hot and heavy solo session before I~Rd be able to get any work done. First I delivered Rachel~Rs lunch and gathered the small bundle of phone messages she had for me. Only two were marked ~SURGENT,~T so I decided to take care of those before I headed home. I returned the call to a farm equipment dealership in Sioux City. They wanted to make a few last minute changes in the wording of their ads before I sent final copy to them. The second urgent call was to a commodities trading firm in Chicago, one of my biggest clients. They had asked me to develop two totally different series of ads for them, and they wanted me to come to Chicago in two weeks and present both approaches to their board of directors. We set the date and time for the presentation. They assured me that their office would forward first class plane tickets and hotel reservation information within a week. Having wrapped up that urgent business, I picked up the other phone messages (I~Rd make other calls and check emails from home), grabbed a few files, said goodbye to Rachel and headed out the door. As I walked, I realized that my cock was still rock hard. It hadn~Rt gone down since I left the restaurant. This baby needed some attention SOON!
I was glad there was no one on the sidewalk outside the office because my dick was more than a little obvious as it strained between my right thigh and the 501s. As I walked around the rear of the car and along the driver~Rs side, I noticed an envelope under the windshield wiper. I assumed I had gotten a parking ticket for something or other and was already riled before I even touched the paper. But the envelope was plain. No printing. No writing. I stared at the envelope and then, ever so slowly, pulled it from between the wiper blade and the windshield. I held the envelope in my hand. I had a strong premonition, yet I didn~Rt open the envelope because I didn~Rt want to be proven right --- or wrong.
After what was probably only a short time but seemed like fifteen minutes, I slowly tore open the envelope. Inside was a small card containing only one word: ~SSOON~T ~V and the Greek letter, lambda. I froze. My mind went blank to my surroundings. I flashed back to the unexpected visitors a few weeks earlier in my home. My ass clenched, and I had to lean against the car as my balls emptied, and I pumped shot after shot of cum down my pant leg.