CHAPTER 1
The Hunting Trip
I was shocked when I discovered it. I was a content housewife; happily married to a
good, handsome man who, in addition to being a good provider, also lacked major vices
except for hunting and golf. The latter could almost be forgiven since he liked to play
with me.
Then he went on his annual elk hunt, leaving his laptop behind.
I did not intend to spy on him, but my laptop crashed and I needed to pay bills. He
told me to use his. We both have user accounts on each other’s laptops, so that was not a
problem. I paid the bills using my account but then temptation struck. I decided I’d like
to know what kind of porn he had in his laptop.
I mean, I had no doubts he had porn in his machine, that’s a given; all men have
porn in their computers. I decided to look and see what I could find. Curiosity killed the
cat.
After I logged in under his user name, I looked in the pictures folder where I
found, as I expected, pictures from our vacations and his hunting trips. So I looked
further. I found a folder labeled STS; I opened it and bingo; I found a whole slew of
folders. However when I opened a couple of them, they were all of the artistic nude type
that you can get at sites like MetArt or Domai. Pictures that even women might like to
see. I knew two things right away; first, that this folder was just a decoy and second,
that there had to be another folder with the real goods, somewhere else, otherwise there
would be no need for a decoy. It also helped that the files in this folder had not been
modified in more than two years.
After two hours I found nothing. Could I be wrong? I decided I’d gone on a wild
goose chase, so I closed down the laptop and replaced it in his briefcase. I opened the
pocket where the AC adaptor goes and there, sitting in plain sight was his portable hard
drive. It took no time for me to hook it up and examine it. There was nothing
objectionable in it. I found another STS folder with some more porn, mostly soft-core, a
couple of blow job and anal pictures, also not accessed in more than a year; another
decoy. I felt I was getting closer.
But there were no more folders. I found an icon that said PGP disk 1. I clicked on
it and it asked for a password. I tried all his usual passwords without success. I was now
certain I had found the right place. I tried the numbers of his birthday and mine,
backwards, forwards and inside out. I even tried our wedding date which fortunately did
not work as that would really have pissed me off.
I felt that I would never find his password and was ready to give up when my eyes
were drawn to a picture on the home office wall. It was a Japanese print of Mt Fuji. I
tried MtFuji, Fujiyama and Fujisama in rapid succession without success. Then I saw on the
right side of the print a spray of cherry blossoms. I typed:
“Sakura”
Pay dirt!
As soon as I opened the first file I realized that I’d made a terrible mistake.
Here was a video clip of a woman being fucked in her mouth; not giving a blowjob, no. A
man held her head and fucked her mouth, deeply and violently. She retched all over his
cock, and he just fucked her harder. Disgusted I stopped the video clip and opened another
one. It was worse.
I wished I’d never gone looking for these files.
My first reaction was to call him and threaten to show this trove of smut to our
friends, to let them know what an asshole he was, and dump him afterwards. Fortunately he
was in a wilderness area without cell phone coverage so I could not reach him; I decided
to do it anyway but, just in time, I remembered my grandmother telling me, when I was
little:
“Never, ever, cut off your nose to spite your face.”
If I ruined his reputation, he would lose his job, and I, my alimony.
Plan B: I’d leave the bastard. I began to pack up a suitcase; but that soon
appeared less than ideal. He was a good husband after all, and if I’d not gone poking into
his stuff I’d be none the wiser and just as contented. Furthermore, if I left without an
apparent motive we might well end in a bitter legal fight. I could of course threaten him
with making this stuff public, but he would know that, if I did that, I’d lose any chance
of getting a good settlement.
Plan C: To carry on as if nothing had happened seemed the wisest choice, at least
for now. I just did not know if I could do it. The more I thought about it the more I
doubted that I could look at my husband in the same way; he was bound to notice the change
and that would lead to even more troubles.
George did not call me that night, or the next day. Because they were camping out,
he could only call me when they returned to the road where the cell phone tower was. It
was probably all for the best; I do not know what I might have said, in the frame of mind
I was at the time. I seethed for those two days, and could not help but to check out the
forbidden porn stash. One thing most of the video clips, pictures and stories had in
common was that women were invariably abused, used, beaten and humiliated. The men, and
some women also, treated us like cattle, like sides of beef.
I could not believe women would let themselves be treated like that.
I grew up in a comfortable home; my father is a respected physician, who, now close
to retirement, always treated my mother, and his two daughters with the utmost respect.
Around us, people treated us with consideration, due to my father’s position and the
general genteel nature of the neighbors in our community. I grew up having doors opened
and held for me, expecting, and receiving, assistance when putting on a coat and so on. I
even objected to the use of improper language in my presence. That was just how I was
brought up and how I was treated, both by my friends and family and, later on, by George,
my husband, in public and in private. I thought that was how he felt about me and women in
general.
It seemed I was wrong.
In one of the scenes, two men took turns at fucking a woman’s face with their cocks
going so deep as to make her barf all over them. Afterwards they fucked her at the same
time in her pussy and in her ass. What made this particular scene stand out was that her
real life husband was there, watching the whole thing, egging the men on.
I could not help but wonder what would drive her to do that. To be degraded in such
way in front of her husband and of the whole world. Later, in bed, my hand crept,
tentatively, almost unnoticed, under my cream colored, satin nightgown and found the
petals moist and my entrance slick. My fingers slowly caressed the folds of my entrance. I
wished, for the first time since I found his forbidden stash, George was here, making love
to me. I closed my eyes imagining him, making sweet, tender love, entering me, as he
always did, with care and power. My release crept slowly upon me, building with the power
of the tide. I gasped with pleasure as it exploded in my pelvis. Then I saw again those
two men, fucking that woman’s face and ass, and that image merged with the spasms that
throbbed from my center.
I woke up on the sweaty sheets, the portable hard drive on the desk calling me with
its siren song. Dazed, not bothering to put on my robe, I answered the call. I needed to
watch more. If this is what he liked, how could he stand to be with me? I hadn’t even
blown him in what two, three years; how could he bear that?
I could not blame him for watching and collecting this stuff. If I myself felt the
compulsion to look at it, how could he, a man, resist it? It is not as if it had been easy
for me to find, he respected me too much for that; I had to really work at it. He loved
me, I knew, otherwise, he would have left me, long time ago.
I began to see a way out.
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