I shut the cubicle door firmly behind me, locked it, and turned toward the toilet. Listening for any strange noises nearby, and hearing nothing, I prised open the lid of the cistern, and removed the carefully hidden magazine, folded under the top, but out of the water.

Pulling down my trousers and boxers, I sat down on the toilet seat, and opened the well read magazine. I always liked to start with the letters, and then move on. I knew this magazine intimately, in more ways than one.

The first letter:

-----start-of-letter-----

I know you're not going to believe me, but this is a completely true story

.I was sitting quietly in the lounge the other day, watching some silly tv program, when I heard a knock at the door.

Opening the door, I found my pretty young neighbour Melanie standing there. Melanie was wearing very tight jeans, similarly fitting tee shirt, and a broad smile in the middle of a freckled face, surrounded by fiery red hair. She was a stunner!

"Hey Steve. You told me to pop around sometime for a coffee, and I wondered if you were doing anything now?"

Hell, it wasn't as if I really expected her to turn up. She's about fifteen years younger than me, and I never expected to see her pretty face here. "No problem Mel. I was just going to make some coffee. You interested?"

"Oh yeah! I need a coffee."

"Well, come in then."

And she did. We sat and drank coffee for a couple of hours. We talked about her parents, and college, and a string of loser boyfriends. She told me about how she had got drunk at some party the previous night, and wasn't all that sure how she got home. That was why she turned up here. She couldn't stand listening to her mother's ranting any longer.

Eventually, Mel had to ask me where the bathroom was. I pointed down the hall, and watching her tight tush wiggle toward the door, knowing I shouldn't, but unable to resist.

Soon enough, Mel came back down the hall to the lounge, but she was walking strangely, her hands crossed in front of her crotch.

"I've got a small problem Steve. I wonder if you can help?"

"What's the matter?"

"It's a bit embarrassing. My zipper's stuck. I can't get it done back up."

Kneeling on the floor, I convinced her to move her hands out of the way so that I could try to fix the problem. You have to understand, I had no intention of misbehaving. As I knelt there on the floor though, I was having some trouble with my own trousers, and nothing to do with zippers. Mel was wearing really tight jeans, and I could see the top of her skimpy panties where the zipper was parted.

First, I tried to unstick the zipper without touching anything else, but that was useless, so I tried grabbing the sides of the zipper and holding them together. Still no luck.

"Mel, I'm going to have to put my hand on the inside of the zipper."

"Just fix it Steve. I promise I won't hit you over the head."

So I carefully slid my hand down the back of the zipper, in front of Mel's panties. My cock was so stiff it was painful to kneel on the floor like this. Mel didn't seem to mind at all. The back of my hand could feel the mound of her pubic hair through the panties as she stood still, waiting.

"It still won't budge Mel. Maybe you should pop back home and change them?"

"I can't Steve. Mum would think I'd been up to something."

"Well, you could always take them off."

"Why you dirty old bugger."

"Oh, hold on. I didn't mean it like that."

As I looked up at her face, I realised she had been smiling the whole time. As I removed my hand from her jeans, she sat on the floor, and shamelessly wriggled out of them, stood back up, and handed me the jeans..

"Oh, that feels better. I hate wearing jeans when I'm feeling horny."

"Sorry?" I was a little shocked.

"'Horny', Steve. That means I'm in the mood for a fuck. What about you?"

Dropping the jeans without noticing, I grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her to me, attached my lips firmly to hers, and prevented her from speaking further, while I thought. Coming to a decision, I picked her up, surprised at how light she was, carried her to the bedroom, and threw her on the bed.

As I undid my own trousers, my cock sprang out, ready for some action. I removed the rest of my clothes, as Mel sat on the bed in her panties and tee shirt, watching.

Climbing on the bed without a word, I pulled the tee shirt over her head, and unhooked her bra, revealing a nice set of freckled breasts. Reaching down further, I hooked the sides of her panties in my fingers, and slowly pulled them down off her hips, and then down her legs. A bushy red thatch was revealed between her thighs, and she wriggled a little further down the bed so that she could lie down properly.

Kneeling between her legs, I leaned down to take one of her nipples in my mouth, and gently caressed the other breast with my hand. Mel reached down between her legs, and guided my cock until it was at the entranceway to her wet vagina.

"Put it in me Steve. I've been sitting there drinking coffee with you thinking about how you could fill me up. I need you inside."

I didn't need to be told twice. Moving my legs down until I was lying on top of her, I slowly eased myself inside her. The warmth and moisture was unbelievable, and Mel wasted no time in starting to thrust upward towards me. Eventually we managed to match rhythms, and our bodies were pumping in unison, my cock almost withdrawing completely, and then thrusting fully into her hot, wet tunnel. Melanie was groaning as we moved, and her breathing was becoming erratic. As I picked up the speed a little, she matched the change, groaning more loudly.

"Oh, God Steve. I'm almost there. Fuck me hard Steve. Oh fuck, that's it. I'm Ooooohhh...."

And that was all I could take. My cock shuddered, swelled, and pumped her full of my semen, pulsing frantically as her vagina alternately clamped and released me. Finally collapsing on top of her, lay there waiting for my heart and breathing to return to normal.

And that was how it started. Now Mel drops over for a fuck every week or so. I have no idea why, or what she does at other times. I don't care either, though I wonder if she could possibly visit a little more often.

Oh, her zipper was easy enough to fix, so her mother wouldn't suspect anything. At least not that time...

-----end-of-letter-----

Reading that brought my cock to attention, as it usually did. I couldn't tell you how many times I had read it already, but it did the trick. The idea of some random girl just fronting up and asking for a fuck was incredibly exciting.

Holding the magazine in one hand, and my penis in the other, I started to stroke myself gently, thinking about Mel and me. Well it was Steve of course, but not in my mind.

Stopping for a moment (I needed both hands), I turned the pages of the magazine until I found the horse pictures. There is something about pictures of naked girls on horses that really gets me going. Looking at the picture of a slim black-haired lady riding a white horse was almost perfect. I knew that on the next page she would be rubbing herself on that horse, but I wasn't ready for that yet. No rush.

My cock was becoming harder as I looked at the pictures, and I stroked it a little faster, thinking about Mel, the girl on the horse, the office girl with the short skirts, the girl from next door with the tight tops.

Spitting on my hand to provide some lubrication, I started to stroke right from the very tip of my cock down to the base. My mind wandered some more, and random erotic images floated in front of my half-closed eyes, mixed with the more concrete image of the girl on the horse.

Stopping briefly to turn the page again, knowing that I was nearly there, I looked at the girl getting off sitting on the horse. The contrast of her black hair, and the white horse was extra special. I could feel myself starting to tense in the base of my penis, and I closed my eyes and roamed through my special slideshow again, imagining the girl in the office forgetting her panties one day, the girl next door without the shirts, the girl on the horse asking me to help, Mel groaning as Steve pushed deeply inside her.

Suddenly all my attention was on my penis. I could feel my pulse rising, my blood rushing between my thighs, my breathing pumping with anticipation. And then I was there. My cock muscles contracted violently, and expelled semen out into the air, to fall on the magazine picture. If only she were a real girl, I thought, pumping my cock still, willing a few more pulses of pleasure from it. If only I could do this with a person. Feeling the inevitable post-wank guilt.

My cock quickly shrunk to its normal size, and I wiped it, and pulled my trousers back up. I always feel like someone might have heard me at this point, but all was quiet. I wiped off the no longer exciting magazine picture as well, carefully folded it back into its secret hideaway, and replaced the cover.

With a mixture of release, elation, sadness, guilt and loneliness, I began the long trek back down the hallway to the office.