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A secret transfer

a Story from The Box

by Patricia Ray



Copyright 2019 by Patricia Ray

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.



The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.





About Stories from The Box

These stories revolve around a visual chat environment called The Box. In this cyber world, users can be who they want to be and pursue any sexual desire. Men and women of all walks of life meet here. Some people remain anonymous behind their computer, others cross the line to the real world and meet in person or somewhere in between. These stories are about real people seeking to fulfil their desires, if only virtual.



A secret transfer



As soon as she saw the flight information, Carolyn made a decision. This was the plane she would book, regardless of her doubts about whether it was the wise thing to do. Would another opportunity ever present itself? Definitely not. Seeing the transfer location on her laptop screen made her giddy. She didn’t even know if he would be willing to meet her. There was even a good chance she would spend the transfer time at the airport, daydreaming about what could have been. But she was getting ahead of herself. She clicked on the flight and filled in the forms. When she confirmed the payment, she felt a familiar stir in her crotch.

Oh my, I’m already getting horny with just the idea.

She looked at the clock on her menu bar. It was too early to go online. He wouldn’t be there. She messaged her sister in Berlin about her arrival time. Lorrie soon replied that she was excited about Carolyn coming to visit her. She asked why Carolyn wasn’t flying directly.

“It’s much cheaper,” Carolyn lied. “And spending half a day in Amsterdam isn’t that bad, is it?”

Lorrie agreed with her, but Carolyn didn’t feel right lying to her sister—even though she realised she was actually smiling while she typed it. The secrecy added to her excitement. She pictured herself in his arms, feeling his skin, smelling him and tasting him.

Oh god . . .

She took her laptop upstairs to the bedroom. She positioned herself on the bed as she often did, lying on her belly, the laptop open in front of her, one hand on the keyboard, and the other between her legs. She flicked her finger over the trackpad, going through her so-called secret files. She had buried them in a folder called Temp Reports, which was a sub-sub-sub-folder of a document folder she used for her administrative work at the local primary school. Tim was a jealous husband; he didn’t like her spending so much time on the computer. He was always suspicious and trying to peek at what she was doing. Over the years, she’d become very adept at keeping The Box hidden from him. Her excuse to Tim for the time she spent on her laptop in the evening was her love for music. She had even shown him the website she said she frequented, a place where people would post songs they loved and chat about it. It was true that she had an account on that site and that she was a music lover, but most of her time online she spent visiting The Box. She knew she was in there too much. It was a double life of sorts. It was an addiction. She had quit a few times over the years, but soon enough she had reinstalled the software and logged on again.

Scrolling through the secret folder, she found the video file. Only last year she’d found out about the possibility that enabled her to record her screen. The first time she tried it out was when she spent a private hour with him. They had gone to one of his rooms, and for the first time since they had met, they had virtual sex. She opened that recording and started watching.

The Box was a visual chat environment. You needed to download a client interface to get access and be able to move around in its world. It was actually a 2D predecessor of Second Life, but quite advanced when it was set up during the nineties. People frequenting The Box remained loyal to it long after Second Life had appeared. To Carolyn, it was like a favourite local pub where you always end up and probably will for the rest of your life. The smart thing about The Box was that users were able to create their own Homes in which they could make rooms decorated with picture backgrounds of their own choosing. Users who built and managed them were called Prodigies, and they knew the code The Box was written in. It was a basic computer language anyone could learn. Even Carolyn, who had no interest in computer science, had learned a few things over the years. She was able to create her own rooms, decorate them, and write simple programs for certain user interaction. Her speciality was making and distributing avatars. The Box interface offered standard sets of avatars, all very childish and cartoonish. In the adult Homes, people used cut-out sexy pictures of celebrities and models. Looking for good pictures and creating avatars out of them had become a hobby of hers. She could browse the Internet for hours, collecting and downloading them, cutting them out in Photoshop and converting them so they would work within The Box interface.

Needless to say, the adult Homes had become places where people celebrated their sexual desires. For some, it was an extension of their real lifestyle; for others like Carolyn, it was only virtual. There were Homes for everyone: vanilla, BDSM, gay and lesbian, goth, transgender, you name it. There were even Homes that were dedicated to something called Wrath. It was a lifestyle based on a series of fantasy novels about an SM-like society where masters enslaved their submissives. There was a strict set of rules about how to behave in any situation. Carolyn had visited one of these Homes a few times out of curiosity. The people in there were actually very friendly, and one master had explained Wrath and its history to her. He was extremely serious about it all, and she had laughed out loud behind her laptop. To her, this was just nuts. She herself was vanilla without a doubt, although she had to admit she had a healthy curiosity for BDSM.

Homes would come and go. One year a Home could be immensely popular, and suddenly it would just be dead. Homeowners would often get into an argument and split up into new Homes, taking their visitors with them. It was like real life. Friendships and relationships bloomed and withered. There were fights and betrayals, but also a lot of fun and a lot of sex. Some people in The Box knew each other in real life, some were married or siblings, but most were in there to remain anonymous, hiding behind their usernames and avatars, living a double life.

I love my new Avas, thank you for making them.” Brandon said.

Brandon was his username. Carolyn read his words as she watched the screen recording. The text appeared in a comic balloon. His avatar was a picture of a blonde male model wearing a green T-shirt and jeans. He had a nice smile, cheerful eyes, and of course a good body. Like Carolyn, Brandon had been around in The Box for many years. He’d owned a Home that Carolyn frequented at the time, but without any warning he had suddenly disappeared. His Home went dead soon after but was never deleted. It just remained empty, as if waiting for the return of its owner.

Last year, there unexpectedly was a rumour that Brandon had been seen again. Nobody knew at first if it was the same guy, but the news certainly created some excitement among the women. He had always been popular. Women bragged about their private time with him, but Carolyn knew that most of them were lying. Brandon had been in a Box relationship for many years with a Canadian woman called Ziggy. The now abandoned Home had been theirs. They had called it Stardust Memories, and it had been very popular for quite some time. It was a good place to go to. A lot of fun people—a mix of different lifestyles and preferences––from all over the world came there. Ziggy had given Carolyn authorisation to run her own Ava-mall. It was a large collection of rooms where people could shop for all kinds of avatars. Carolyn was given Prodigy privileges to upload her own work and decorate the fitting rooms she’d created. She was known for her sexy but sophisticated taste. She loved seeing people wearing her avatars and reading the compliments in the text balloons.

As it turned out, it had been the same Brandon who’d re-appeared. He even wore the avatars he had worn before his disappearance. Like most men, Brandon hardly varied his Ava-wardrobe. Soon after his return, he had murmured to Carolyn, asking her if she would find him some new ones. He’d said he was fed up with looking at his old self. Murmuring was the term that was used for talking to someone in private. If you clicked on a specific avatar first, what you typed was only readable to that person. She was surprised he’d asked her this in a murmur. He could've easily said it in public. Since she was known as an Ava-maker, people often asked her to make them an avatar.

“Of course,” she’d murmured back to him. “You know I love making them. I’m flattered you asked me. You have any specific wishes? Blonde, dark, muscled, normal? Celeb or unknown model? With clothes or without?”

He had laughed at that and called her cheeky.

“I trust your judgement, Britt. But make a few at least. I want to completely redo my closet.”

Britt was Carolyn’s username. She thought it was a silly one, but she stuck with it. When she first started out in The Box, she really had no clue what name to choose. Being British, she just chose Britt. After a few years, she wanted to change it, but having to explain to people who she actually was just seemed like too much of a bother.

When she started looking for suitable pictures for Brandon’s new Avas, she had found her excitement rising. The idea that he would wear the Avas she was making made her feel special. But while she was browsing she started to panic, becoming afraid he wouldn’t like her choices.

“You behave like a schoolgirl,” she’d told herself. Finally, she managed to find a nice set of pictures of male models.

When she’d finished the Avas and gone online to seek him out, he proposed exchanging the Avas privately. She agreed to this. It had been quite a while since she had gone in a private room with a man. She’d been disappointed and betrayed in The Box so often that she refrained from virtual sex, even though she had always liked doing it. But Brandon was different. The attention he had given her since his return had made her think about him a lot. She’d masturbated more than once fantasising about him. But when the satisfaction of the climax wore off, she’d thought it was silly and told herself Brandon was just being friendly. Yet she couldn’t help picturing him in her bedroom. Kissing her, stroking her, telling her he wanted her. How he would feel her moist pussy through the delicate fabric of her panties as she pressed herself against him, whispering, “Yes, please, take me. I’m so wet for you.”

Now, lying belly down on her bed, she relived that first night when she’d given him his avatars. As the recording continued to play, she read the balloons that inevitably became more and more sexy. They circled around each other, finding the right words to show their affection. She remembered that when he’d said, “You make me hard,” she had let out a little squeal. Knowing that Tim might have heard it from downstairs had made her heart thump like crazy. But from the living room there had been nothing but the sound of a soccer match on TV.

This afternoon she could scream as much as she wanted; she was the only one in the house. She licked her lips. She started rubbing herself as the recorded conversation on the screen turned into sex talk.

Where are you now?” Brandon asked.

In my bedroom. On the bed.”

Anyone at home?”

The kids are out to see a movie. My husband is downstairs watching TV.”

Football?”

She laughed and typed, “LOL.”

So, we have to be very quiet. I know I can. Question is, can you?”

Carolyn swallowed hard like she had that night when she first read it. But this time she knew what he was planning to do to her.

You lying on your back?” he said.

No.”

Good. I bet you’ve got a lovely ass.”

Dunno,” she said.

You don’t know? Well, then I have to find out for myself.”

How?” she typed in anticipation.

It would be the last thing she’d type for quite some time.

I’m standing in the doorway of your bedroom. Looking at you as you lie there on your belly. Your legs up, feet wiggling in the air. Like a girl. My girl.”

When he’d told her that she was his, it had sent a wave of tingles through her body that had nested in her crotch. Like on that evening Carolyn was now breathing more heavily, biting her lip. She pressed her legs so her hand was pushed hard against her slit. She eagerly read on what he’d told her.


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