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DeeDee opened her desk drawer to find a new pencil, and she saw the strange package immediately. She stared at it for a moment. What was it doing there? Her name was printed in careful block letters on the outside, so it must be something intended for her. This was a little creepy, she thought to herself. When did I last look in my desk? Yesterday? She gingerly picked it up to take a closer look.

It was wrapped in simple white paper. Light. And it rattled with a plastic sound when she shook it. Videotape. She pried open the scotch taped paper to prove herself right. There was nothing else written on the paper or the videotape, just her name. Weird. Definitely weird. DeeDee refolded the wrapping paper, dropped the tape and the paper back into the desk, and closed the drawer. Weird.

All day long, DeeDee's thoughts kept coming back to that videotape. No one at the office said anything to her, or acted in any way out of the ordinary, but it had to have been left there by someone at work. Didn't it? The end of the workday finally arrived, and DeeDee stuffed the tape into her purse and headed out the door to her car.

DeeDee's curiousity made the drive home was a little faster than normal, and by the time she unlocked the front door, let the cat out the back door, powered on the television and vcr, and inserted the mystery tape, she was all nerves. Now or never, she thought to herself, and she pressed Play.

For a few long seconds there was nothing. Was it blank? Then a picture popped onto the screen. DeeDee stared at the image, trying to decipher what it was. Then someone stepped in front of the camera. It was a man, standing there in faded blue levis and no shirt, about two or three feet in front of the lens. She could only see from mid-thigh to a few inches above his belly button. Not enough to recognize anyone. Not yet.

Then his hands appeared, moving toward his belt buckle. DeeDee licked her lips uneasily and unconsciously took a step backward. The male hands unhooked the buckle, slid down the zipper, and wiggled the pants downward. No underwear. And there it was. She took a deep breath and watched with amazement at the scene unfolding -- literally -- in front of her.

The camera made the penis the obvious star of the show. It was a normal looking penis attached to a normal looking man. His fingers stroked its length, coaxing the erection, without hiding the view from the intended audience. DeeDee backed up another few steps and, without taking her eyes off the screen, she sat down on the couch. The penis grew and thickened, rising to a 45-degree angle of hard flesh.

What was she supposed to think about this? She wasn't repulsed, exactly. It was sexual harassment, perhaps, but she didn't feel particularly threatened right now. It wasn't like someone was exposing himself to her on the street. She could turn this off if she wanted to. But she didn't want to, at least not yet. Who was this man?

The hands dropped away, and DeeDee got a full look. The hardon was pulsing with his heartbeat, made all the more visible as he stood completely still. Slowly, he turned to show a profile to the camera, and DeeDee could see the graceful shape, jutting upward from the brown curly hair at the base, the shaft with its small veins and ridges and tight skin, curving to the bulbous cockhead aiming almost vertical, slightly ticking like an erotic metronome.

The Mystery Man was busy. Fascinating! His fingers stroked himself to show her his cock, almost proudly it seemed. He spread the oozing precum around the head and down the shaft, making the skin all shiny. Every now and then a hand would disappear above the top of the screen, then reemerge to stroke his stiff cock from top to bottom. Saliva, she thought. The man said nothing. DeeDee reached forward to grab the remote control on the table in front of her, turned up the volume, and all she could hear was the liquid sounds of flesh on slippery flesh. Up, down, around the head, faster, then slower, then faster again. She had never actually watched a man masturbate before. How long would this take?

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The answer came soon enough. One hand focused on the erection, sliding up and down from the base to just below the head. The motion increased in speed, then she heard a grunt and all motion stopped. Wow! Semen shot from the end of the penis, and the hand started up again, sliding up and down the shaft in rhythm with the thick white fluid that was pumping out. DeeDee watched in amazement as it dribbled down, his fist scooping it up and applying it on his shaft, making everything seem so wet and sloppy and, well, sexy.

Slowly now, the fist disentangled itself to exhibit the still rigid cock, glistening with semen and saliva, making little jerks as it continued to ooze the end product of his orgasm. His fingers milked the last of the semen through his softening erection, displaying everything to her. Wow! DeeDee was riveted to the screen. This was so different from watching an x-rated movie. This was someone's personal production, made just for her. Someone she probably knew.

The man moved out of camera range, and the screen went blank. He had turned off the camera. It was over. DeeDee got to her feet and, with shaky legs, went over to the vcr. Stop. Rewind. She stood there thinking as the tape spun. She felt aroused by this. She could feel her thickened pussy lips, and she was certainly lubricating. What now? She answered her own question by undoing her own slacks, slipping them off. The vcr stopped rewinding. What now?

DeeDee stared at the vcr. Her right hand brushed up against her mound, and she could feel her own excitement beneath the fabric of her underwear. She pressed Play and retreated back to the couch.

When the image returned to the television screen, DeeDee's hand found its way inside her panties. Her sense of surprise when she first saw the tape was now replaced by the sense of her own arousal. She watched the man pleasure himself, and she tried to match him. As his precum lubricated his erection in Nature's way of preparing it to penetrate into a vagina, her own fingers strummed her clit and worked her own juices around her gaping inner lips, preparing herself for the onslaught of a stiff cock which would fill her flesh with his, gushing semen from his balls deep into her body.

DeeDee knew the timing of his climax, and she urged her own onward to synchronize with it. Her right hand worked her clit with a familiar side-to- side motion that maximized her pleasure, her eyes half shut with concentration as she watched the upthrusted penis in front of her. Her pussy had bloomed wide, slippery with her excitement, her vaginal opening and her anus clenching as her hand blurred pleasure everywhere. She was going to time it right, she thought, as she watched the man's fist break into that last momentary flurry of motion and, raising her knees and spreading her legs, she matched his frenzy with her own, gasping and grunting along with his sounds coming from the speaker. Her insides melted and vibrated and shivered as she watched the white jets erupting from his cock, imagining them splashing deep inside her vagina, his cockhead spurting and quivering against her cervix, his pubic bone pushed hard against her clit and wide open lips, the muscles of her vagina rhythmically gripping his penis, feeling the semen pulsing through his stiff shaft.

In the afterglow of their shared orgasm, watching the man proudly wear the spreading semen on his cock and hands, DeeDee's left hand pressed the underwear into her own wetness, soaking up juices into the cotton cloth, rejoicing in her own body and her own pleasure. As the picture went to black, DeeDee mused about how to respond to the videotape. A plan formed, and she smiled. She was thinking about the wet and undoubtedly aromatic underwear that she was going to get back to the Mystery Man, somehow. A sealed plastic bag, wrapped up with that same wrapping paper with her name on it, left in her desk to be discovered by her Secret Admirer. Would that work?

It was going to be an interesting next few days.