A Secret Revealed

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A Secret Revealed

(Author’s note: If you haven’t read “Audrey’s Birthday Present,” I suggest you do so before reading this story. The two stories are linked, with one playing off the other. If you read “ABP” before reading this one you’ll see what I mean. Enjoy!

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters depicted are 18 years of age or older.)

It had been a long, stressful day and Paul Goetz was tired. Not tired to the point of being sleepy, but tired to the point of his body being fatigued. Paul was a delivery driver for a national package delivery firm, and there were days when his load was so big and had so many heavy items in it that it just physically wore him out. This had been one of those days, and the fact that he was on the high side of 50 years of age didn’t help much either. He pulled his car, a 1970 Dodge Challenger painted in “Plum Crazy” purple, into his driveway and parked. He sat and listened to the throaty rumble of the exhaust for a few moments before shutting the engine off and getting out. He had always loved the way that car sounded, almost as much as he loved how it looked and how it handled on the road. He had wanted one of these cars ever since he was a kid, and when the chance to buy a fully restored Challenger in his favorite color popped up, he jumped at it. It had cost him a pretty penny, but it was most certainly worth it. He had never regretted buying it, and the fact that it had gotten him laid several times was a plus. Women loved that car, and with Paul being a bachelor there was nothing to stop him from accepting their advances when offered.

He walked up the short walkway to the front door of his modest house, unlocked the door, and went inside. Once inside he headed straight for the refrigerator to get a beer, dropping his car keys on the kitchen island as he passed it, and after he had the cold beer in his hand he went straight for the bathroom to get out of his sweaty uniform and take a nice, hot shower. He took a long pull from the can as he walked down the hall, still drinking from the can as he turned to walk into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later he walked out of his bedroom, freshly showered and now clad in a pair of well-worn blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and a pair of leather slip-on deck shoes. He usually wore boxers under his pants, but when he was just relaxing around the house he always went “commando.” He walked into the living room and over to his computer desk, reaching down to turn on the laptop sitting on the desk. Just as he pressed the power switch his front doorbell rang.

“Now who can that be?” he said out loud. Paul had discovered that when you live alone and spend most of your time that way, you developed the habit of talking to yourself. He had always lived alone, never having been married, and he had been talking to himself for years.

He walked towards the front door, and as he approached he could see the cloudy silhouette of a person through the wavy decorative glass on either side of his front door. By the height of the figure he guessed it to be a woman, and when he opened the door he was proven right. Becky Wright, the 20-year-old daughter of his next door neighbor, was standing there, her thumbs hooked in the pockets of the hip-hugger jeans she was wearing. In a way he was glad to see her, but in a way he wasn’t — and today he wasn’t sure yet which way he felt about seeing her standing in his doorway.

Becky was an absolutely gorgeous specimen of the female sex. She stood 5’7″ tall and weighed somewhere around 120 lbs. with just enough meat on her bones to give her curves some added ‘oomph.’ And she most certainly did have some curves! She had a tapered waist that led to flaring hips, and her belly was firm and flat. Her legs were long and shapely, competing with her pear-shaped butt for attention, but the feature that always grabbed the guy’s attention first was her bustline. Becky was built like a brick shithouse, with a very large pair of firm, bouncy breasts that she rarely fettered by wearing a bra. Her breasts showed very little sag despite their large size and, Paul guessed, their substantial weight; if Paul had to guess he would have guessed they weighed anywhere from 8 to 10 pounds each. Whenever she walked when she wasn’t wearing a bra, they always looked like two puppies in a sack trying to get out. But she did wear shirts that were fairly loose and flowing, and today was no exception. She was wearing a loose flowered peasant-style blouse that stopped just above her jeans, and her shoulder-length light brown hair was held in place by a green headband that was tied on the side of her head, the loose ends hanging down next to her face.

While he most certainly was attracted to her overly large breasts as any man would be, Paul always thought that her best feature was her face. Becky had beautiful blue eyes, a pert nose, nice poker oyna cheekbones, and a pair of full, soft lips that were not too small and not too big. Paul had wondered more than once what a kiss from her with those gorgeous lips would be like, and he had resigned himself to the fact that he would most likely never find out for himself.

“Hi, Paul,” she said, smiling at him with perfect white teeth, her mouth curling up at the sides in the prettiest and sexiest smile Paul had ever seen. “I heard you pull in so I knew you were here, but I waited until you had enough time to get cleaned up before coming over. I hope you don’t mind!”

“Half of the neighborhood hears me whenever I pull in,” Paul replied, smiling back at her. “They just better be glad I wasn’t on my Harley!” His Challenger had a fairly loud exhaust system on it, but his Harley had straight pipes on it and was VERY loud, much to the chagrin of the elderly widow who lived in the house on the other side of his.

“I just love that bike, and one of these days you’re gonna have to take me for a ride on it!” she said.

“I think we can arrange that,” Paul replied. “In the meantime, would you like to come in, or would you rather stand out on the porch all afternoon?” He smiled at her as he spoke.

“Thank you, kind sir, I don’t mind if I do!” she replied, stepping into his house. He stepped aside and let her pass by, then closed the door behind her. They had always had this kind of “back and forth” banter between them, and it helped that Becky was also a terrible flirt. Some would call her a cock tease, but not Paul. She had never been that way with him, and he enjoyed the open, honest relationship they had. She had come to him several times in the past for advice, and he was glad to have been able to help her. But he couldn’t help but notice her firm, rounded ass swaying back and forth in her tight jeans as she walked away from him.

“I am a man, after all,” he muttered to himself.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Becky asked, turning to look at him.

“No, nothing important, just muttering to myself like an old fool,” he said, smiling at her. She smiled back, then went over to the couch and sat down in the middle of it. She crossed her legs and threw her arms out, resting them on the back of the couch as she leaned back against the cushions. This caused the loose fabric of her shirt to pull tighter across her big breasts, and Paul couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t wearing a bra — as usual.

“Would you like a soda?” he asked, pointing towards the kitchen. “I’d offer you a beer but you’re still a youngster, you know!” he said, teasing her.

“Yes, I would, thank you!” she replied, and Paul went into the kitchen to get a soda for her and another beer for him out of the fridge. He walked over to her and handed her the can of soda, and she opened it as he sat down in the soft easy chair across from the couch.

“The day I turn 21 you and I are gonna sit down and get drunk!” she said, smiling at him over the top of the can as she brought it to her lips to take a drink. Paul smiled back at her as he spoke.

“So to what do I owe the honor of this visit from the neighborhood Princess?” he asked. He always called her “Princess,” ever since she was a kid, and she had always loved it. He opened his beer as he spoke, taking a drink from it as she replied.

“Well, Your Majesty,” she replied in her usual ‘give and take’ manner, “I have a thought, an idea, a perception or maybe even just a guess that’s been bouncing around inside my head for the past few days, and I need to talk to you about it. Get your advice on what to do about it, maybe,” she said.

“And just what would that thought, perception, or maybe even a guess be?” he asked, playing along with her. He enjoyed this kind of banter with her; he always had and was sure that she did too. She took a drink from her soda, then put it on the coffee table in front of her and leaned back on the couch, stretching her arms out and her shirt tight across her chest once more.

“It seems that after noticing certain things, certain clues, you might say, I have come to the conclusion that someone in this neighborhood, someone you know quite well, is hiding something from us,” she said, being as mysterious as possible. “Keeping a deep, dark secret from us, as it were,” she continued. “A secret identity, actually,” she said, smiling a mischievous, knowing smile at him.

It was then that Paul began to get a little bit nervous, but he continued playing the game.

“And just what makes you think this?” he asked.

“Well, as I’m sure you know by now, I am a very sexual person. I have a very high sex drive,” she said, confirming what Paul already knew — as did most of the boys in the neighborhood. “I need — no, I crave — as much sexual attention and stimulation as I can get, and for that reason when I don’t have a man around I do one of two things. I either canlı poker oyna watch porn on the internet and masturbate, or I read erotic stories on one of the many internet sites and masturbate.” She and Paul had always had an open relationship in which they could talk very freely, and talking about sex was no exception.

“But either way, you masturbate,” Paul said, trying to lighten up what he felt was a conversation about to take a dark turn. She grinned at him in response.

“Yes, Your Majesty, I masturbate!” she replied, giggling at him. “In any event, about two weeks ago I went searching for a new site that published erotic stories as I had grown bored with the one I had been using, when I stumbled across a very interesting blog. It was a blog of nothing but erotic, sexy stories, all written by the same person,” she said, looking him directly in the eyes as she spoke, and Paul felt his heartbeat quicken as she continued.

“So I’ve spent the better part of the last two weeks reading every single story on this blog, and I must say that I’m quite impressed!” she said, smiling at him. “And it was while I was reading these stories that I started to notice things, things that sounded familiar,” she paused for effect before continuing, “things that looked familiar, too! Descriptions about places, locations, and people that sounded more and more familiar the more I thought about it.”

“And when I read the last story,” she continued, dropping her head just as bit as she looked at him, “that’s when it all fell into place. That’s when I finally figured out why things sounded so familiar in those stories.” Paul took a nervous swig of his beer before speaking.

“And what was it about that last story that made everything ‘fall into place,’ as you said?” he asked, dreading the answer. She smiled a knowing half-smile at him as she replied.

“It was the description of the main character, ‘Audrey’,” she said, speaking in a softer, lower voice. “After thinking about it, I realized that she was me. According to the physical description of how she looked and how she dressed as described by the author, the main character was me — or was modeled after me, at the very least. Right down to the butterfly tattoo in the small of her back,” she said.

‘Damn!’ Paul thought. ‘I knew I should have left that out!’ Becky leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees and clasping her hands together as she continued.

“The blog is called ‘Erotica By Aramis,’ and ‘Aramis’ is the name of the author,” she said, looking at him intently. She paused for the longest few moments of Paul’s life before asking him the question he already knew was coming.

“But you already knew that because you’re ‘Aramis,’ aren’t you, Paul?” she asked quietly. Paul looked back at her for a few moments, trying to decide if he should try and bluff his way out of it or just be honest with her. He made his decision, then sat back in his chair and sighed, resting his forearms on the arms of the chair before answering.

“Yes, Becky, I’m Aramis,” he said. Becky clapped her hands together and let out a whoop, squeezing her eyes closed as she broke out into a big grin and shook her fists in the air next to her head in celebration.

“I knew it! I just knew it!” she exclaimed, laughing. Paul couldn’t help but smile at her excitement, even though his closely-guarded secret wasn’t so secret anymore. “God damn, Paul, but you write some hot, sexy-as-fuck stories!” she said, sitting back on the couch and reaching for her soda.

“How did you figure it out?” he asked, genuinely curious to know how he had slipped up. “What gave it away?”

“Well, it started with some of the locations,” she said, sitting back on the couch. “Some of them sounded awfully familiar, and when I thought about it I realized that they were some of the places around here. The description of the buildings was correct, even though the names were different. Take ‘The Gull Reef Club,’ for example — that’s the spitting image of ‘Mother’s Basement’ down at the beach! And the beach itself is the same beach as in your stories. ‘The Windjammer’ motel is ‘The Beachcomber,’ right?” Paul nodded his agreement. “And that cottage at the end of the tourist section where Rob and Sherry stayed in ‘The Seduction of Rob’ is the same cottage you stayed in a few years ago on vacation, isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” Paul replied. “You’re very observant, Becky, I must say. I’m quite surprised, actually.” She grinned at him as she replied.

“Well, I’m more than just a pair of big tits, you know!” she said in her usual unabashed style. “I do have a brain in this pretty head of mine, and I do use it every now and then!”

“Yes, you most certainly do,” Paul agreed, “although your tits are quite spectacular all by themselves!” She laughed at this and he grinned, glad that his efforts to lighten things up was working.

“But you said it was the description of the main character internet casino in the last story that gave it away, right?” he asked, and Becky nodded as she replied.

“Yep, that chick was the spitting image of me!” she said. “You really shouldn’t have used the tattoo in the description, you know!”

“I always thought the chances of you or anyone else I knew ever actually reading my stories was pretty slim at best, but I guess I was wrong,” he replied, taking another pull from his beer. Becky leaned forward and put her forearms on her knees again before replying.

“Are you kidding me?” she said. “Half of the housewives in this neighborhood are reading your blog, and all of them want to fuck the living daylights out of you!”

“You’re kidding!” Paul said, genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Really! My own mom included!” she said, surprising him again.

“Your mom?” he asked, his eyebrows going up.

“Yes, my mom! After I found your blog on my laptop I got curious and did a search of the history on my mom’s computer, and there it was. She’s been reading your stuff for at least the past two years! I also got into her e-mail and found a bunch of e-mails that she has sent to half of the neighborhood, letting them know about the blog and then talking about the stories with them. Boy, if my mom knew you were really Aramis she’d be all over you like hair on a gorilla!”

“But she’s not going to know, is she, Becky?” Paul asked softly.

“Not if you don’t want her to,” she replied, much to Paul’s relief. “I haven’t told anyone about my suspicions, and I don’t plan to. Not unless you tell me otherwise, Paul.”

“I would very much appreciate it if you would keep my alter ego a secret, Becky,” he said, leaning forward to put his own forearms on his knees. “It’s very important to me that you do.” He was more than relieved at her answer.

“Sure, Paul, but why?” she asked, leaning forward on her knees again. There was a look of genuine concern on her face.

“Because writing under the cloak of anonymity allows me to articulate my own likes, desires, and fantasies that I would never share with anyone else for reasons that I would think are fairly obvious,” he explained. “For example, I don’t think my employer would be too pleased to know that one of their employees was writing incest porn,” he said.

“No, I don’t suppose they would,” Becky agreed. “Although it’s really none of their fuckin’ business!” she spat, visibly angered.

“True enough, but unfortunately that’s the way it is,” Paul said. “That’s why I must ask you to keep my secret for me and promise to never reveal it to anyone without my permission.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Paul, I promise!” she said, smiling at him. “I won’t tell a soul!” Paul sighed as he replied.

“Thank you, Becky, thank you very much!” he said.

“Anything for you, Paul,” she said softly. “You’re one of my best friends, and I’d never dream of hurting you!” She got up from the couch and before Paul could react she came over to him, bent down and gave him a quick, soft kiss on the lips. Then she sat back down on the couch, took another drink from her soda, and sat back. She threw her arms out again, pulling her shirt tight across her chest once more.

“So how did you know?” she asked, and Paul gave her a quizzical look as he replied.

“How did I know what?” he asked.

“How did you know what my tits looked like?” she said, unashamed. Paul let out a short laugh before answering.

“Call it an educated guess,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “I’ve seen you in a bikini before, and I’ve seen you running around braless in a fairly tight shirt as well, and having seen women with your kind of build before I just put two and two together,” he explained. “Having never seen you topless I had to just make an educated guess.”

“Pretty good guess,” she said. “Your description was nearly perfect!”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” he replied.

“Would you like to?” she asked, her voice going low. The question took Paul by surprise.

“Would I like to what?” he asked.

“See me topless,” she said in the same low voice, never taking her eyes off his. Paul felt a stirring in his crotch.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his heart beating faster.

“Of course I’m serious!” she said, grinning at him. She stood up from the couch and put her hands on her hips, looking down at him. “So do you want to see my tits or not, Paul?” she asked.

“Hell yes, I do!” he replied. “I’d be crazy not to!”

“Or gay,” Becky said, still grinning. “You’re not gay, are you, Paul?” she asked, teasing him.

“You’ve read my stories, what do you think?” he asked, turning the tables on her.

“No, you’re certainly not gay!” she said in a low voice, her eyelids lowering just a little bit to give her that “bedroom eyes” look. “Not by a long shot!” And with that Becky crossed her arms in front of her as she grabbed the hem of her shirt, and with one swift movement pulled it up and over her head, tossing it on the couch behind her. Then she put her hands back on her hips and spoke again.

“Well? What do you think?” she asked.

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