Dear Dirty Diary - part 7 SeXStoRY

Dear Dirty Diary, I tried to relax but every thought led back to my ongoing string of bad luck. I thought back and brooded yet again over the theft of my car and the loss of my laptop computer. I got the car back after a week or so but the computer, with my shameful little diary in it was nowhere to be found. Then three weeks later, after the insurance claim gave me a new one, the police department phoned to tell me my computer had been recovered. I seriously considered getting it back, until Doug pointed out I'd have to give back the new one. I reminded him of my diary. He assured me that the only way I could be connected back to my stories would be by me physically retrieving my computer. I quickly realized there was no way I could handle the embarrassment of confronting a cop who may have read my diary. My Diary was gone and I was devastated. It wasn’t that I read it over and over, it was that I’d lost all those thoughts and feelings I’d put into words. The insurance company replaced my computer, but the new one was just a little black box with no soul. I hooked it up to my phone line, loaded in my Sympatico disc and checked my e-mails. To my surprise, a mysterious message from myself was amongst the others. I opened it and was thrilled to find this message along with MY ENTIRE DIARY attached to it! Dear Laura, My name is Michelle and I'd like to explain to you how this message found its way to you. My husband is a tow truck driver and two weeks ago, his dispatcher sent him to pick up your stolen car from the ditch it was abandoned in. After he winched your car out of the muck, he found your laptop computer underneath. It was all scratched up and covered in mud, so Brad threw it into his truck's cab for safekeeping. He dropped your car off at the Police compound, but completely forgot about the computer. Friday came and when he cleaned out the truck for the weekend driver, he found your poor computer under the front seat. Brad thought it was wrecked for sure, figured you'd get a new one from the insurance company and brought it home. While he was packing our van to go to the cottage, I cleaned the caked mud off your computer with a toothbrush and vacuumed out all the dust. I pushed the power-on button and miraculously Windows 98 lit up the screen. Brad suggested I bring it along to give my s****r-in-law Amy and I something to amuse ourselves with while he and Tim were out fishing. On the way up to Kaladar, I plugged it into the lighter and checked through all the programs and files that were in it. I asked Amy what the "DDD" I noticed in My Documents might be. She thought it might be something private and told me not to mess with it. I clicked on it anyway and up came this file called Dear Dirty Diary. I scanned through the first chapter, exited it immediately and shut down the computer. Amy asked me if I was bored with it already. Blushing like crazy, I lied and told her I couldn't read a jiggling computer on such a rough road. Bright and early Saturday morning, the guys were off down the lake. It was a cool spring day so Amy lit the fireplace to get all cozy. Since the men would probably be hunting most of the day, we decided to be sloppy and lazy. Nightgowns and slippers were to be the dress code for the day and spoiling ourselves lavishly was to be our only concern. As we sipped our morning coffee, I casually told Amy about the story of yours I found last night. I told her it sounded really personal, sort of like a sexy diary. Showing her usual amount of regard for others' privacy, she immediately insisted that we read it. I clicked on your file once more and began to read your words aloud. Amy's impatience was soon rewarded. I blushed from head to toe when I read aloud about your peculiar little pastimes after your husband ignored you on New Year's Day. When I recited your first encounter with Louise, Amy gave me the silliest look of disbelief you could ever imagine. At that point, she took control of the computer and took her turn at vocalizing your memoirs. I prepared us an emergency ration of chocolate treats to enhance our understanding of your stories but my God, Laura; I was completely unprepared for your frankness. We took turns reading from your diary as the morning crept on. We were so surprised by your words that we completely ignored everything around us. Amy would raise her eyebrows and give me a goofy look of astonishment whenever you described each new sexual thrill. Her mouth dropped open and her eyebrows arched at your feeding Doug vegetables that you'd been playing around with. I found that hearing myself utter your words brought out a side of me that I was unfamiliar with. The naive little girl inside of me listened to and learned from each line of your diary. By the time the final paragraph was read, our remaining innocence was lost. We sat in silence for a few moments to absorb fully what you had written. I told Amy we must get your computer back to you some how. It just wasn't right to steal and covet the most personal thoughts of another person. We agreed to have Brad make up some story, hand it in and have the police return your computer to you first thing Monday. I feel this written apology from us is in order for our invasion of your privacy. I began writing you and Amy decided to freshen herself up. When Amy returned from her shower, she was still wearing her bathrobe. She sat down on the sofa, then clipped and filed her toenails most carefully. Then she went to her room and returned with a big round hand mirror. As I typed away, she sat on the edge of the couch, then flipped open the lower half of her robe. She spread her legs, then held the mirror down between her thighs and began to study her bared genitals. After a few moments of close scrutiny, she wondered out loud if a hairless pussy might be fun for a while. I told her that Tim would just freak. She disagreed and suggested that her husband might just be tickled pink with a bald pussy. She swung around and flopped one leg up over the arm of the sofa. Amy lay back down on the cushions and looked over at me. She pulled a little electric shaver out of her pocket, held it out toward me and told me to get over there and shave her crotch. Amy is such a tart but this was going well beyond anything she'd done to me before. I ignored her but she kept at me about it. When she pointed out it wouldn't be much different than shaving legs or underarms, I reluctantly agreed. I kneeled down at the end of the couch and ever so carefully nipped away every last hair surrounding her pussy. I felt a little uncomfortable when I had to flip the folds of her labia back and forth so I could shave in closely. I felt a lot more uncomfortable when I noticed how wet and dilated her vulva became as I buzzed around it. I felt really uncomfortable when I realized the vibrating sensations of the shaver had also caused Amy's clitoris to poke up out of its bald little hood. My shaving her undeniably had aroused her. The second I shut off the shaver, she checked herself out in the mirror. She seemed pleased with what she saw then informed me it was my turn! I told her there was no way, but she threatened to tell the guys that I attacked her, tied her up and shaved her in a fit of insane passion. Amy pushed me back down on the sofa, then sat down backwards on my chest and pulled my nightgown up around my waist. I wiggled and protested, but she was possessed and her busy shaver quickly buzzed over ever nook and cranny of my pubes. As soon as she let me up, I too, examined myself in the mirror, but my skin was all red and raw everywhere she'd shaved. When I complained, she told me not to be a baby, got some skin cream, squirted some in her palm and then to my astonishment, smeared it all over my itchy genitals. She asked if I'd like to cream her up, but I politely declined. She made a point of massaging cream all over herself, not once, but twice. As if nothing special had just happened, Amy plopped down on the opposite end of the couch and rubbed more skin cream into her arms and legs. I was still shaken by the experience so I tried to find solace by continuing my letter to you. I pulled my up my legs to rest the computer on and nervously began to compose again. Amy continued her preening and I, my typing. She has just finished moisturizing her feet with lots of skin cream and curiously, I feel what seems to be her warm smooth big toe press against my pussy! I feel the slippery toe tickle around, then push into my vulva! It feels so big and alive as it wiggles about inside me! I'm trying my best to ignore these incredible sensations by continuing to type. I've looked up and am glaring at Amy, who's lustfully grinning back. I realize exactly Laura, where these crazy notions are coming from but that smirk on her face is too much to bear. Two can play at this game! Take that Amy! Oh my, my big toe just slid right into her vulva. Are big toes supposed to feel wetness like this? She's getting so creamy and loose as I wiggle my toe! I can feel my heart pounding up the side of my neck! Damn you! Damn you Laura! PS. Just to make absolutely sure you get this message before I’ve cooled down, I’m sending it, as well as your stupid story to the Email address we found in your Sympatico information file! Yours Hatefully, Michelle *****************************************