The Mysterious Photograph

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Hey Literotica Readers,

Happy New Year to all of you guys.

This is my first story posting in this year. I’m a year late in posting a new story though …. Apologies. You may want to check out my previous story, if you haven’t, after you finish with this one maybe.

Read on ….

Young Lucy Kitteridge is startled to find an erotic close-up photograph of a man in the pocket of her new coat that she bought from a thrifty store. Lucy becomes fascinated by the photo and, together with the help of her best friend Danielle, decides to track down the person behind the revealing image in the photograph, leading to a very erotic encounter with the mystery man.

Read on to find out …. J

THE MYSTERIOUS PHOTOGRAPH

Shivering in the crisp air, Lucy sprang from her bed with a smile on her face. At last! It was finally cold enough for her to wear her new coat.

Taking it from the closet, she admired it, once again congratulating herself for her amazing find. It was a navy blue coat trimmed with three wooden pegs, what they called a watch coat or a pea coat, like the kind that sailors used to wear. Lucy shrugged it on, admiring herself in the mirror.

She knew it was a man’s coat but she thought that the rich dark blue was the perfect complement to her long blonde hair and creamy complexion. The coat was warm and snug and looked fabulous on her hips as she cinched the belt closed.

Walking to school, Lucy was pleased to see her best friend Danielle’s face as the two of them met.

“Wow Luce, you look fantastic!” gushed Danielle.

“Thanks,” said Lucy with a demure smile.

“Where in the world did you find that coat? I want one!”

“I bought it in a thrift store,” said Lucy. “It needed a good washing but, as you can see, it came out great. And I only paid a few bucks for it.”

“Definitely looks great on you,” said Danielle.

The two girls walked to school, talking about their classes, when Lucy felt something in one of the inside pockets of the coat. She felt around in the deep pocket until she felt a thin square of paper. Taking it out she gasped and then quickly shoved it back in the pocket.

“What was that?” asked Danielle.

“Oh nothing,” lied Lucy.

During her third period art class, Lucy excused herself and went to the restrooms. Once she was safely locked in one of the stalls, she eased the piece of paper out of her purse. It was a photograph, a Polaroid, one of those instant pictures she’d only seen before in movies.

But this was no ordinary photograph. Someone had snapped a close-up of a man’s penis, a fully erect penis. Lucy gawped as she stared at it. The angle of the photograph made the man’s cock look enormous. The boldness of it, the direct focus on his genitalia was surprisingly erotic, especially as Lucy never usually found such images appealing. The man’s penis was thrusting upwards, its delicately fluted head in sharp relief. His balls, gently furred, were slightly out of focus.

Who was he? And why had someone left this photo in the pocket of the pea coat? There was no way to tell. Lucy flipped the photograph over but the reverse side was blank. She looked at the photograph again, noticing the throbbing vein running horizontally on the man’s penis, the tip of his shaft red and slightly angry looking, the little slit at its end almost seeming to wink at her.

Even safely alone in the stall, Lucy cast a few glances upwards to make sure she wasn’t being spied on. The photograph was crude and definitely lewd but somehow it fascinated her. She turned and twisted the photograph, trying to make out any details in the background but there was nothing, just fuzzy black space. Somehow the raw image of a man’s erect penis was just so unambiguously masculine that it appealed to her. She felt, to her surprise, that she was starting to get aroused. She hurriedly thrust the photo back in her purse and dashed back to class.

After school the two girls walked to Lucy’s house. “Are you okay, Luce?” asked Danielle.

“Yes, why?”

“Well, you just seem distracted. Are you worried about our physics exam next Friday?”

“No, that’s not it. I’m sure I’ll do fine.”

“Well what is it then?”

After a long moment’s hesitation, Lucy spoke. “Come on up to my room. I’ve got a secret to show you.”

“Oh I love secrets!” said Danielle.

Up in her bedroom, Lucy slowly withdrew the photograph from her purse and showed it to her best friend. Danielle gasped and then shrieked, “Oh my God, Luce, did you take this? Are you dating some guy and didn’t tell me?”

“No, hell no,” said Lucy, somewhat crossly. “I found it. It was in the pocket of my coat.”

“Wow,” said Danielle, continuing to stare intently at the photograph. “That guy is… he’s hung. I’d sure love to get me a taste of that!”

“Stop it!” said Lucy, snatching away the photograph from her friend. “Come on, now. I’ve obviously got to throw it away. If my mom finds that in my room, I’ll be done for.”

“Hey Afyon Escort now,” said Danielle. “No need to be hasty. If you don’t want it, I’ll be happy to take it off your hands.”

“Nah,” said Lucy. “I don’t know what to do, actually. On one hand, it’s disgusting and crude. But on the other hand it’s kind of fascinating. I just wonder who took this photograph and who the guy in it is. I bet you there’s a story there.”

“Oh my gosh, I know what you should do!” squealed Danielle. “You should totally investigate it.”

“What? Don’t be crazy,” scoffed Lucy. “Investigate a picture of some guy’s thing? That’s ridiculous.”

“No, no, hear me out,” said Danielle. “You’re applying to Columbia’s journalism department right? Well this is your chance, girl! You can do a whole investigation and write it up and include it in your application. They’ll be sure to take a bright young journalist like yourself if you show ’em what you can do.”

“Journalism is about serious stuff,” said Lucy, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I can’t investigate someone’s dirty Polaroid. What the hell, Danielle?”

“No, no, you’re not getting it,” said Danielle, sitting up, her eyes flashing. “Not the photograph, dummy. The coat. You can investigate the back story of the coat. You said you bought it at a thrift store, right?”

“Right.”

“Well that’s it then!” cried Danielle. “Don’t you know how trendy this is? You can do a full investigation into the origin of the coat. You can find out who donated it, maybe all the way back to the guy who first bought it. And then follow it up with the company that manufactured it, you know, connect the dots. Columbia will love it!”

“You know what?” said Lucy, a smile appearing on her face, “That’s actually not a bad idea. I might just do that.”

“Yes!” said Danielle, clasping her best friend in a tight hug. “And if you should happen to find the stud with the sweet cock along the way, all the better. Now give that picture back to me a minute. I’m going to the bathroom and I want to look at it some more.”

“Sicky,” said Lucy with a laugh.

The next day after school Lucy walked the long blocks down to the thrift store where she had bought her fabulous coat. Entering inside, she asked for the manager. After several long minutes of waiting, a middle-aged woman with black-framed glasses on a chain around her neck came out of the back storeroom.

“Yes, hello. I’m the manager here. Can I help you, young lady?” asked the woman.

“Yes, hello ma’am. My name is Lucy Kitteridge. I bought this coat here a couple of months ago.”

“Sorry, no refunds. All sales are final,” said the lady, turning to head back towards the storeroom.

“No, no that’s not it,” said Lucy, her face blushing. “I love the coat.”

“Well I don’t normally say this but I do admit that it looks rather fetching on you,” said the older woman.

Lucy continued, “The reason I’m here today is actually because I’m trying to track down the person who donated it to the Handy Dandy.”

The woman harrumphed. “Missy, we don’t give out that kind of information. Sorry.”

“But, you see,” said Lucy in her sweetest voice, “I’m a senior in high school and I’m doing a journalism project. I’m investigating where our clothes come from. So, you see ma’am, it’s a project for school.”

“Hmm,” said the woman. “Well if it’s for school, maybe I can help you. Let me check our records. But I can’t promise you anything.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Lucy as demurely as she could. The older woman disappeared in the storeroom for several long minutes. When she returned, she held a thick sheaf of papers in her hand. Lifting her glasses to her nose, she rifled through them. After several agonizing moments, she tapped one long fingernail on the paper in front of her.

“Looks like you’re in luck, young miss,” said the woman. She then wrote down a name and address and passed it over to Lucy. “Mind you,” said the older woman, “I’m trusting that this is all for a legitimate journalism project. If I hear one word about you abusing our donors for some silly trick, I will be very angry.”

“Oh no, ma’am,” said Lucy, batting her eyelashes, “It’s all for a serious project. Thank you so much for your help.”

The next day Lucy took a bus across town until she was close to the address the manager at the Handy Dandy had given her. Following her own handwritten instructions copied down from Google Maps, Lucy made her way down a residential street until she thought she was at the correct address. More than a little nervous, she rang the doorbell.

After a long pause, the door opened. A middle-aged woman with short, auburn hair peered out cautiously. “Can I help you?”

“Yes ma’am, hello,” said Lucy. “My name is Lucy Kitteridge.”

“I’m not interested in buying anything. Bye!” said the woman and slammed the door.

Taking a deep gulp, Lucy gathered her courage and rang the doorbell again. After a long pause, the woman opened Afyon Escort Bayan the door once again.

“I’m not selling anything,” said Lucy rapidly. “I’m actually a journalist.”

“What? I’ve got nothing to hide!” said the woman with the auburn hair, a scowl still plastered on her face.

“I’m sorry, please let me explain,” said Lucy, her face flushing red. “I’m a student down at the high school. I’m doing a journalistic investigation into the origin of where our clothing comes from. I, uh, bought this coat that I’m wearing down at the thrift store and I’m trying to trace where it came from.”

“It does look rather nice on you,” said the woman, her voice pleasant although there was still a trace of a frown on her face.

“Thank you,” said Lucy. “I hope you’re the woman I’m looking for. Are you Ellen Bismarck? I got your name and address from the manager down at the Handy Dandy. Are you the woman who donated this coat?”

“I am indeed,” said the woman. “Come in.”

Lucy followed her into the living room, which was neatly furnished in a modern style. Lucy tucked the end of her coat under her legs and sat down on a tastefully appointed white couch. The woman, Mrs. Bismarck, disappeared into the kitchen but returned after a moment with a tea service and a plate of cookies.

After the tea was poured, Mrs. Bismarck sat back in her chair. “Sorry about my rude reception earlier. I don’t get too many visitors.”

“Perfectly understandable,” said Lucy, sipping her tea as ladylike as she could. “As I said, I’m trying to track down the origins of my coat. Were you the woman who donated it?”

“I was,” said Mrs. Bismarck, reaching forward to pick up a cookie. “Actually, I should tell you that I’ve been expecting someone to come asking about that coat for a while now.”

“Oh?” said Lucy. She eyeballed the cookies but decided not to take one, too worried about spilling crumbs on herself.

“It’s kind of a funny story,” said Mrs. Bismarck, smiling for the first time. “I guess I should start at the beginning. A few months ago I was downtown. It was a warm day but suddenly a rain shower appeared out of nowhere. I’m afraid I was wearing a rather sheer white blouse and, hm, how shall I put this delicately? Once I got wet, I was in a rather embarrassing state.”

“Oh my,” said Lucy, remembering to raise her little finger as she sipped her tea.

“Yes,” continued Mrs. Bismarck. “I was exposed to the entire world and I was simply mortified. But then this nice young man appeared out of nowhere. He saw me in my condition and he took off his coat and put it around my shoulders. He really saved me! But I was so discombobulated that I never thanked him properly. And then he disappeared before I could get his name.”

“Gracious,” said Lucy. Her stomach was rumbling but once again she passed on taking a cookie from the tray.

“I put an ad online on that web site, I forget the name now,” continued Mrs. Bismarck. “They have a section for ‘Missed Connections’. I described the man as best as I could and our chance encounter but sadly, I never got a response. After a couple of months I realized there was just no way for me to give him his coat back so I donated it to the Handy Dandy.”

“My,” said Lucy, “that’s quite a story! So you have no idea who gave you this coat?”

“Sadly, no,” said Mrs. Bismarck, nibbling on her third cookie. “Which, between us girls, is a real shame. He was quite a looker.”

“Can you tell me what he looked like?” asked Lucy. “It’s just for my notes, for my journalism project. I like to be as thorough as possible.”

“Oh certainly,” said Mrs. Bismarck, brushing a shower of crumbs off of her pants legs. “He was a good-looking man, maybe about 25 years old. Little too young for me but I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers, if you know what I mean. He had a thick head of brown hair and a muscular, athletic build. He was wearing a nice suit, a dark blue one with a burgundy tie. Maybe he was some kind of lawyer.”

“Please continue,” said Lucy, furiously writing on her notepad.

“Well that’s about it,” said Mrs. Bismarck. “He had on nice shoes too. You don’t see young men too often who gave good sense when it comes to shoes but this man did. That’s about all I can tell you.”

“And where exactly were you when you, uh, got caught short by the rainstorm?” asked Lucy.

“I was downtown near the Spring Street Square. You know, I actually thought about going down there to look for him to try to give him his coat back. But there are just too many office buildings around there. Frankly, he could’ve come out of any one of them or maybe he was just a passerby. There’s no way to tell. But there are many nights I could kick myself for not at least trying to find him.”

“I certainly understand,” said Lucy, rising to her feet. “Mrs. Bismarck, thank you so much for your time and for your help. I think this story is going to be even more interesting than I thought when I first started.”

“Oh,” Escort Afyon said Mrs. Bismarck, also rising to her feet. “I’m so glad to help. Please be sure to let me know if you ever find that nice young man. I’d really love to give him a personal thank you for being so chivalrous.”

“If I find out anything,” said Lucy, walking out of the front door, “You will be the first to know.”

An hour later, the two girls were together in Lucy’s bedroom.

“I don’t know, Luce,” said Danielle, reviewing the notepad. “I mean, yeah this is turning out to be quite a story. But you’ve reached a dead end. You found the lady who donated the coat but there’s no way you can find the guy now.”

“I don’t know,” said Lucy, tapping her pen against the side of her face. “I’m feeling lucky, Danielle. I mean if the guy was wearing a suit in the middle of the day, he has to work in one of those office buildings, right?”

“Maybe,” said Danielle, sitting up. “But you know as well as I do that there are about a million offices down there. And maybe he was at the Spring Street Plaza to buy lunch. Maybe he’s just some low-level flunky. Maybe he was a tourist. There’s no way to tell!”

“A tourist wearing a suit and tie?” said Lucy. “Come on, now. That’s just silly.”

“Silly or not, what are you going to do?” asked Danielle.

“I think I’ve got to do what a real journalist would do. I’m going to stake out the Spring Street Plaza.”

“Oh, can I come with you?” asked Danielle.

“Only if you promise to be good,” said Lucy.

“Let me look at that photograph a bit more and then after that I promise to behave,” said Danielle, a lewd smirk on her face. The two girls broke out into laughter.

The next day the sun was shining and the air was much warmer but Lucy wore her coat anyway. The two girls made their way to the Spring Street Plaza, weaving their way through the dense crowd of pedestrians.

“It’s hopeless, Luce,” said Danielle. “I mean look around you! There are a million people. We’ll never spot the guy. We can’t just stop every good-looking guy with dark hair and ask him if he once gave his coat to a lady who got wet in a rainstorm.”

“You’re right,” said Lucy, looking around her. On both sides of the streets tall office buildings rose to the sky. Thousands of workers were filling the streets during the lunchtime rush. Many men were walking by and hundreds of them were dressed in suits. Spring Street Plaza was the center of the city’s financial district.

“Still though,” said Danielle, idly playing with her hair, “if I see a cute guy I’m gonna ask him anyway. Worst thing that might happen is I get a date for Friday night.”

“Oh hush,” admonished Lucy, although a smile crossed her face. Together the two girls scanned the crowds but the investigation did indeed seem to have arrived at a dead end. There were simply too many people walking around. How would they ever find a nameless man who once donated his coat to a woman?

“What? What is it?” said Danielle. “I see you’ve got that spark in your eye, Luce. Tell me!”

“Well,” said Lucy, “Tell me what you see over there.” She pointed across the street at a busy bakery.

“It’s just the Bun in the Oven. Come on, Luce, you know that. Yum, we should go there. They’ve got the best cinnamon rolls ever!”

“Exactly!” said Lucy. She grabbed her friend’s hand and together the two girls dashed across the street.

“I still don’t get it,” said Danielle as they entered the shop.

“Cinnamon!” said Lucy, her eyes sparkling. “This morning I engaged my best sleuthing skills. I realized that maybe the coat had more to tell us. I went over every square inch of it. And I thought I detected a faint odor of cinnamon on the collar. I bet the guy used to eat here!”

“Oh jeez, and I thought I was a perv,” said Danielle, wrinkling her nose. “Do you mean to tell me you were sniffing that coat?”

“Shh,” said Lucy. “Now let’s see if my hunch is right.” The two girls waited patiently in the long line until it was their turn to be served. “Excuse me, ma’am. I have an unusual question. Do you see the coat I’m wearing?”

“I do,” said the girl behind the counter. “It looks really nice on you.”

“Thank you,” said Lucy, her face dimpling with a smile. “I know this is probably the craziest question you’ve ever heard but is there any chance that you used to serve a man who wore this coat?”

“That’s not the craziest question I’ve heard today,” said the girl behind the counter with a laugh, “but it is the most unusual. As a matter of fact, come to think of it, there was a guy who used to come in here and I think he had a coat like that. But I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Lucy, whipping her notepad out of her coat pocket. “Can you describe him to me?”

“Oh gosh, he was dreamy,” said the girl. “Seriously cute too. Had dark hair, real good body. Usually our regular customers are, uh, kinda heavy but not this guy. I bet he works out at the gym all the time.”

“By any chance was he usually wearing a suit and a tie?”

“Yep!” said the girl. “Every day. I’m sure that he worked in an office near here. He used to come in here every day. He really loved our cinnamon rolls.”

“My gosh, that’s him!” exclaimed Danielle.

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