A Storie Collected by Djian

The Other side

Collected by Djian

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

I have been sitting in my office as usual at this time of day. It was not long 'til noon and I was looking forward to lunch. I was just starting to dream when I heard the sound from my PC delivering an email to me. I had been in several chat rooms lately and was used to receiving quite a lot of email online, from people all over the world. It is not as satisfying as a real relationship with a live person in front of me, to touch, to see, to actually 'be' with…but it is better then nothing at all.A year and a half ago, I stopped 'meeting' people from the Internet. I was disappointed and frustrated with the results I had experienced when the people I met and liked weren't anything like who I thought they were. Often they were completely different. I had begun believing I would be alone for the rest of my life.
I have cursed myself because I desire a man in my life. Throughout the week, I am able to keep my frustration levels down. But when the weekend comes, or when my daughter is away from me, I find it difficult. But I do not want a man who does not also understand my needs, I have had that. I was not happy. It was a few minutes before lunch time when I read my email. It was from an online friend in Israel. We had never met in real life. Hie email was about the usual stuff…about he was unhappy with his wife, and how he believed he would be happier with me. But at the end of his email, he told me that he knew someone who was very interested in meeting me, and possibly becoming acquainted with me. He then asked me if he could pass along my pictures and email address to this person he knew. I told him that it was alright with me, and gave my 'ok'…my permission.Some fellows from my department where already waiting for me. I thought it was kinda weird that this department all went to lunch together. Everyday was the same, a big herd of cows and bulls trampling down to the canteen. I was embarrassed, and felt stupid. They didn't talk much with me and would only talk about their work during lunchtime. So, for me, lunchtime was spent in quiet. There was Tom, of course…he was different.Tom was 33 years old. Although he was a really funny guy, for some reason I could not stand him. He was such a flirt, and he always had a dirty joke to tell. Maybe that was the reason. His jokes didn't offend me but I considered him rude. But secretly, he aroused me. I did not like this feeling and especially did not like this at work, being aroused at work. It was so hard for me to contain my emotions. Someone told me he was very good in bed…(I believed he was not interested in BDSM).

Not that I'm into that stuff, but some form of power exchange appealed to me. Ugh! It is frustrating to explain. Maybe I am just a woman who does not know what she wants. I think I expected my Prince to come riding on a white stallion.

Lunch was over and the herd was trampling back to do their work, clueless…chewing the cud again and again. On the surface, my fellow employees are different people, wearing different styles of clothes…some wearing dresses, some wearing skirts and blouses, some wearing skin-tight trousers. The bulls, of course, all dressed the same in business suits…except for Tom who sometimes wore jeans or sometimes wore a silk suit. .
At work, I usually wore trousers. When I first started working there, I occasionally wore a dress or skirt but I hated the way the other cows in the office acted…as if I were competing with them. As if I would 'want' to compete with them! It was degrading to me, for them to think I would want to compete with slut cows. And the bulls…I hated the way they would look at me when I walked by them is a short dress or skirt. They were so superficial, they could not see what was really going on in my heart. They looked with their eyes but I saw past that, they only wanted to fuck me. At least they never touched me, never asked me to fuck them. They would just flock around, making jokes and acting stupid.

It was now late afternoon and my attention was diverted by the sound of more incoming email so that I couldn't hear the noise from the cows and bulls in the office. I began to read the email.

"Hi Suzi," he began.

(I hate being called 'Suzi'…my name is Suzanne.) I continued reading…

"I heard a lot about you already and am very interested in meeting you. I also liked the pictures of your body," he wrote.

'Yes, I believe you did, you bastard,' I thought to myself, guessing he was surely jerking himself off over them. I continued reading…

"…especially your fat ass, and your flabby tits," he continued to write.

'How dare this bastard talk to me in this manner about my body?' Over the Internet, men sometimes can get a little cheeky, but are generally wimps in real life. I ought to ignore his statements but instead I became slightly aroused. I knew that I could be an easy pushover for the right man, for the right man who dared to control me. This one continued to say that I could be useful to him and we could have some fun together.

I was interrupted by Tom, who stopped by asking me if everything was OK. Although I stammered, I answered him that everything was fine. He's used to me, my shyness and the fact that I stammer often. Actually, I hide my embarrassment and humiliation most of the time in my shyness.

It was already quite late when I decided to answer this man's email. The cleaning woman had already arrived. I should not have allowed her to bother me but I cannot imagine having such a job. I mean I can't even think about it…to clean my own flat is one thing but to actually have to clean the dirt and mess of other people leave behind? I mean, how can a woman do such an awful thing? It is degrading. I was always taught to be a proud woman, that we are equal, that we have the same rights as men. Except of course the cows and bulls in my office. But cleaning the dirt other people left behind is something else altogether.

As late as it now was, I decided to respond to my new mysterious email acquaintance. I wrote wishing his a good day and that he go out and have some fun. I had not yet decided on him. He could be an old, impotent bastard or a stupid bull. Maybe 'he' was even a 'she' cow. And you don't know over the Internet how ugly people are. I sent my email to sawhorse@chello.at…what a stupid address.

The cleaning woman was next to my desk and I waved her away, telling her to come to come clean later. I put my folders away and shut down my PC. Leaving, I went to my car. When I got there, I spotted another car parked next to mine, blocking the left door to my car. I became very angry, sure that it was a stupid fucking man. Maybe even a stupid office bull or an old manager pig. I mean, the whole world knows a man can't drive a car so why do they do it anyway? Of course, men generally do things they don't understand, especially when it comes to 'doing' women. They just don't understand how it is done.In order to get into the car, I had to step into some slop. How humiliating this would be for my daughter would surely see my wet shoes. I always try to tell her how important it is to dress properly. A woman must always look perfect and have every situation under control. I am trying to teach her how not to mess up her life. At least I did not wanting her to mess up her life as I did mine.

That night I had a terribly erotic dream. I was so horny. The dream was about being tortured and mistreated by many men.

The next morning I showered, dressed and left for work as I did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that…like every day. Life is like pulp. But with a bright fake smile I greeted everyone when I arrived. Life is much better if you are friendly to people, even I want them to be friendly to me. I even read it in a book once…although I wonder why I and so many other people read such bullshit. But even though I follow instructions well my life was not any better.

I turned on my PC and saw that I already had an email in my Inbox. 'Mr. Mike Sawhorse,' I laughed to myself. I opened it and started reading. He did complain abit about my short reply and at the end of his email asked me how I was dressed today. 'Such a shitbrain this Mike Sawhorse,' I thought to myself. I decided I would have some fun with him and I started to write back. I told him some bullshit about being dressed in garters and stockings, a very short skirt over them and a transparent blouse. I told him that under the blouse I wore a special push-up bra that left my nipples bare and that I was wet just thinking of him. 'Men are so simple,' I laughed to myself, but at least I would have some fun with him for a few days.

So, again another 'pulp' day. I tried my best to work together with the cows and bulls. It was shortly before noon when my PC sounded, alerting me to an incoming email.

"Hallo, Suzi. First, I want to tell you to stop pissing into my ear with your fucking lies because this I can do on my own," he wrote. At least it was funny! I had to laugh at his statement about pissing into his ear by himself. I continued to read…"If you want to continue, just answer my questions and do as you are told. If you were dressed like you described, I would throw you out anywhere I saw fit…'who wants to see your floppy tits?' But your legs are not so bad. I guess your cunt is loose, probably so big I could park my car in it and I have a big one. By the way, send me a picture of your naked cunt by tomorrow. Now, kneel down on the floor and write back to me, answering the question of how you are dressed today. Go on, kneel down now you ugly sow!"

I was pale. I was shocked. I was wet. How dare he? Just then my co-workers yelled to me to go to lunch. I told them to go ahead without…that I didn't feel well today. They left. This was the first time I did not trample down with them. It was the first time in years that something broke the daily routine. I knelt down and began writing my response. I did not apologize for lying to him but this time I at least told him the truth about how I was dressed. I told him that I was wearing black trousers and a brown pullover. Under that I wore transparent yellow panties and a matching bra, and black platform shoes. (I am only 1.68 cm tall and I often wear platform shoes to make myself appear a little taller.) I knelt there on the floor waiting for areply…nothing came. I had a lot of time to think. I do not like thinking about things like this when I am at work. After a while, my dream was interrupted by my fellow workers. They returned from lunch and asked me what I was doing kneeling on the floor. I told them I was looking for something. My face was blush red and I was glowing heat. Someone suggested I go home because I looked sick…even Tom was very nice and told me it was better I go home. Of course, he did add that he would not like to get an infection from me. The Boss agreed and sent me home for the day.

I was really glad that I could leave. I thought way too much about Sawhorse Mike while I was at work. When I got home, I stripped naked and looked at my body in front of my mirror. I looked at my tits. Yes, they were floppy, that was true. My tits were two hanging bags. I know that I am no model but ugly, really so ugly I thought to myself. I went into the bathroom to shave myself. I had not shaved my pussy for a few months since I had stopped dating. When I finished, my pussy was bald and I looked at my womanhood in the mirror. Sure I had no teenage cunt but it wasn't so loose. 'Parking a car? How absurd?' I thought. I have a very elastic vulva. They are like rubber bands. I can stretch out my inner cunt lips about 1.2 cm without even pulling hard. Some guys have even had fun playing with them. I was very wet. I stuck a finger in good. OK, I was not that tight, especially now when I was wet and I was very wet. That can sometimes be a problem because I also get wet in my backhole too. When I have anal sex, I get really wet. I mean also from my anal opening. Many men did complain about that because I'm too wet and they can feel me on their cocks…but some really get off by how wet I get.

Back to Q Collection or Back to main page