You’ve Got Mail Ch. 01byLynnGKS©
Note to reader: A friend with the nom de plume of MrWicked asked me if I would write a story based on the premise of a guy getting e-mail pictures of his wife having sex − or at least a gal that LOOKED like his wife. He chose the title. He suggested several good endings but I created my own. Here is that story.
I thought the first one was a practical joke in poor taste by someone in the office. It was a simple message that said, "Your wife has a lover. Want to see the pictures?" It was from an e-mail address I never heard of.
I ignored the message and a week later I got another one from the same address. This one had a picture attached labeled "Erika's beaver." I downloaded the picture and it was of a gal's beaver but one of those programs that distort pictures had been used on it. It was hairy and brunet like my wife's beaver but the outline was distorted so I couldn't be sure it was hers.
My name is Rob McMillan and I manage a rather large shipping firm. I have been happily married for twenty years to a gal I met in college. Erika is a beautiful blond Swede with long tan legs and really great tits. Our sex life had gotten a bit bland but she had not given me any hint that she is having an affair. What the hell was going on?
Two days later I got a picture of a couple fucking missionary and the distortion prevented me from recognizing the gal but her hair was the same blond as Erica and she had great legs just like my wife. Her legs were wrapped around the guy's body. I printed the picture on my color printer and started a file that I kept locked in my desk drawer.
I went to a computer guy who works for me. I told him I was getting pornographic e-mails from someone I didn't know and he asked if they were pictures of children. When I said no he told me that the authorities only traced e-mails if it was child porn.
Then I got another that shocked me. It was a shot of Erika's head with a big smile on her face and her blond hair blowing in the wind. I couldn't tell where it was taken. Then I got nothing for over a week and then came the shocker.
A gal was getting fucked doggie, buck naked, bent over a desk in an office with equipment very similar to the desks and chairs in several of the offices in this building. It was dark outside and it sure looked like Erika's tits hanging down and her blond hair was exactly like Erika's. But I could not see her face.
That picture got to me somehow. I got an erection looking at it. That night in bed I fucked my wife and fantasized that another guy had stripped her down and fucked her in one of the offices of my company. An employee of mine?
As I fucked the woman I loved, my mind went through all the faces of the guys who worked for me wondering which one was fucking her. This was a completely new experience for me. Why was I turned on by the thought of another man fucking my wife?
The next day at work I looked carefully at every guy I passed trying to see if he was looking at me differently, perhaps leering like a stud at a cuckold. I went back to the other pictures in my collection and looked them over in the privacy of my office. Then I went into my private bathroom and masturbated with the pictures spread out on the floor. Shit! What was happening to me?
I went on the net and read about it. It was real. There were guys who were aroused by watching another guy fuck their wife. Was I like that? Jesus! This was something new. I had never even thought of anything like that.
Erika and I had a great marriage. For twenty years we'd been in love and happy. I'd worked my way up to the top job at this branch and in another few years I could retire with a nice pension. Erika had supported me all the way. Our sex life was kinda bland and we were not fucking all that often now that we were in our forties, but it was hard to believe that she was having an affair. Even if she was, why was she doing this to me?
The next e-mail had a note reading, "Erika is really great pussy." A picture was attached showing what I was now convinced might be my wife getting fucked missionary, her blond hair visible, her face blocked by the guy's head. The picture was shot from the foot of the bed and her widespread legs were high in the air and a hairy guy's ass was between her thighs. His cock was buried deep and the biggest pair of low-hanging balls I ever saw were slapping her in the ass.
I masturbated in my private bathroom, on my knees, chest on the commode lid, looking at pictures spread out on the floor. I concluded that I really was one of those guys I had read about on the Internet. Thinking about my wife getting fucked by another guy turned me on. Jesus!
I sat down at my desk, took out a yellow pad, and began jotting notes. I was not stupid. I ran a large branch of a big company. I needed to think about this carefully. I wrote at the top of the first page a big "#1 WHY?" At the top of the second page I wrote "#2 WHO?" Under #2 WHO I wrote "HOW MANY?" Then I started my list.
I rechecked the pictures. In each case a camera on a tripod aimed at the target and set for time delay COULD have taken the picture. So the guy in the picture could have set it up. If there were a third person there was no proof of it yet. Obviously Erika was involved if in fact the woman in the pictures was my wife.
I made a note: "Tentative conclusion two people one of them may be Erika."
Under #1 WHY I made two lists one labeled "ERIKA" the other "NOT ERIKA."
Under "ERIKA" I had a big question mark but in the "NOT ERIKA" column I had the notes, "Someone trying to break us up. Boyfriend? Job Related?"
Then I sat there thinking. Erika and I had a stable marriage as far as I knew. She loved me and had not given me any clue that she had taken a lover. Of course the husband is always the last to know.
My mind went back to the picture of that hairy bastard between her legs. I closed my eyes and thought about that. Then I got out the alphabetical list of all my employees and one by one I pictured the men in my head. I came up with three guys who were hairy enough to be the guy fucking my wife.
Shit! Not the guy fucking my wife! The guy in the picture! I couldn't think straight. Looking at those hairy guys gave me another hard on. I can't go on like this I thought as I went into my bathroom to masturbate looking at the picture of that hairy ass between my wife's thighs. I closed my eyes and saw those big balls slapping Erika in the ass as he fucked her and I pumped my load on to toilet paper spread out on the floor.
I came back to my desk and added, "Does Erika know I'm like that?" to the list under "WHY?" But thinking about it I asked myself how could she know when I myself didn't know till this thing started.
My computer pinged when I got a new e-mail and it pinged as I had that thought. I checked and it was another one. This time no message but a picture of a woman's left hand looking much like my wife's hand caressing a big hard penis. Shit! It's TWICE the size of mine!
And oh my God the rings! A plain wedding band and an engagement ring with that little diamond just like the one I had given her in college. It meant so much to her that she'd never replaced it with the big diamond we could now afford. Was that her hand?
It's HER I thought. She's holding another guy's dick! But she's got to know that pictures are being taken and she must know the pictures are being sent to me. WHY? Why would she do this to me? What is her motive? If she wanted to leave me all she had to do was leave − not torment me.
And then nothing for two whole weeks! I was about to go out of my mind. My work began to suffer. My lists of possibilities got longer and I was masturbating several times a day at the office looking at those dirty pictures and fantasizing a hairy man fucking my wife.
And then it came. No picture but the message said "You want me to pump a load of cum on her face? Give her a facial? I'll do it and send you a picture. But you have to ASK me to do it. All you have to say in your response to this e-mail is, 'Yes. Please give my wife a facial.' Then I'll do it and take a picture and send it to you so you can jack off in your office."
Oh my God! I thought. How does he know? Jack off in my office? How does he know I'm doing that? And then my mind pictured that bastard standing over my wife on her knees. She had just sucked him to the point of orgasm and he was pulling that big dick out of her mouth and pumping a load of thick creamy white semen in glob after glob onto her face and hair.
I got an erection and headed for my bathroom to relieve it. The bastard! He'd do that to the woman I loved! And she'd let him because ... because ... why the HELL would she DO that. She'd NEVER torment me like this. I saw that thick cock squirting cum on my wife's face while I ejaculated after pounding my peter like a Junior High School kid. Shit! I was running out of toilet paper.
I had to jack off because it was difficult to think straight with a hard on. I went back to my desk and continued to work on my lists. I simply could not believe my wife would do this, but it sure looked like her in the pictures. And there was that one picture of her face with her hair blowing in the wind − but the engagement ring was the clincher.
Only one of the hairy guys had any reason to cause me trouble − Art Lloyd. If I lost control of management then he'd be the guy the board would look to as a replacement for me. Was he trying to destroy me? I thought of that hairy ass and that big thick cock and got another hard on. Shit! I can't keep going on this way. I gotta masturbate again if I'm gonna think straight. And I did.
How do I answer that e-mail. Do I wanna see Erika's face covered with cum? Yeah I thought I'd like to see that! From there my mind pictures went to watching that hairy bastard fuck her. Why would she do that? How could she love that guy? If I asked to see a picture with cum on her face I'd know for sure whether it was my wife.
But WHY was she doing it? I had to find out. I'VE GOT TO KNOW! Half out of my mind I wrote the e-mail he wanted. What the hell did I have to lose?
I found out what I had to lose the following afternoon. Art Lloyd entered my office with a big scrapbook over an inch thick. He put it down on my conference table and invited me to join him.
"You're really gonna enjoy this," he said, as he opened the book to the first page.
The page contained the e-mail I had received that started the whole thing. Then on continuing pages were the other e-mails and attached pictures. He turned another page and there was a color photo of me on my knees bent over the toilet seat masturbating with the pictures I had printed from the e-mails spread out on the floor. The pictures I had used for arousal.
"How the hell did you get this picture?" I asked.
"Motion activated video cam in the air vent in the ceiling," Art said with a chuckle. "You sure pound that skinny peter hard when you beat your meat."
He continued turning the pages and the last page contained the e-mail I had sent requesting him to give my wife a facial and send me a picture. I just sat there numb with humiliation and fear.
"How would you like me to show this scrapbook to your wife Erika?" Art asked leering at me and laughing. "You want her to know that you fantasize about her having sex with another man and then masturbate? That you asked the guy to cum on her face and send you the picture?"
"Of course that's not Erika in the pictures," he continued. "The only picture of her was taken at the company picnic last summer."
"Why?" I asked with helpless humiliation. "Why are you doing this?"
"I want you to take early retirement or transfer to another branch. And unless you do, I'm gonna show this scrapbook to your wife," he said.
"I can't do that," I said. "I'd lose half of my retirement pay if I retired now and I'd take a major salary cut if I transferred."
"Think it over," he said. "I'll give you till the next board meeting to make up your mind. If you don't apply for early retirement or a transfer at that meeting I'll show this scrapbook to your wife. And then Erika will know that she's married to a pervert."
With that he closed the book, picked it up, and left the office. I went back to my desk and sat with my mind whirling with questions. I tried to think rationally.
First of all what he did with that video cam probably violated some law but I'd have to go to the authorities and the whole story would come out. I couldn't do that.
Second, I could not simply do nothing and let him destroy my marriage. I had to act. But what should I do. I could put something in his record to keep the board from selecting him as my replacement but that's just revenge after I retired or transferred.
After a lot of thought I concluded that there were only two choices. Do what he wanted or tell Erika myself. How does a man tell his wife that he's a pervert? I'll think about that on my way home. I put that file of e-mails and pictures in my briefcase and took the long scenic route home, thinking.
Erika served a nice rack of lamb and I ate mine as usual with a generous amount of mint jelly. After dinner we went out on the patio and I fixed a Balvenie, no ice and a shot of water. She told me about her day while we had our first drink and then I fixed seconds for each of us and started to tell her about mine.
There was ample light to read the e-mails and see the pictures. She listened patiently and then started to laugh pointing at the individual pictures.
"That's not my ring," she said. "Those are not my legs! Can't you tell? And my breasts are not like that! You've played with 'em for twenty years. Can't you tell those are not mine?"
Then I told her about the video cam in the bathroom and what I had done. I showed her the pictures. She listened quietly and when I finished she spoke very softly and lovingly.
"Did you know you were like that?" Erika asked.
"Not until now," I said.
"Well, I'm not perfect either," she said. "Let me tell you a story."
"Do you remember when we had been married about five years I went to be with Mom while she had surgery on her gall bladder and got real sick afterward?"
"Yeah, I remember that," I said. "You were gone for two weeks."
"Well I met an old boyfriend from college, Ben Ziegler, who was working at the hospital where Mom had her surgery. One thing led to another and ... well, I fucked him − fucked him a lot during those two weeks."
"That's the only time I've been unfaithful to you in twenty years but one time is one time too many when it comes to adultery. And adultery is a hell of a lot worse than jacking off looking at dirty pictures."
"But that last e-mail I sent to him. The one asking him to ... "
Erika interrupted me, "You were half out of your mind. You had no idea what you were doing. You wanted to know if it was going to be MY face you'd see covered with semen."
"As for your ... what shall we call it ... your newfound sexual fantasy? There's no way I'm gonna fuck some stranger for your entertainment, but I love you and maybe I can help you fantasize a bit. Tell you about Ben Ziegler maybe," she said chuckling.
"I want you to go to the office tomorrow and ask that bastard Art Lloyd to join you. Then have him give me a call so I can tell him personally what an asshole he is. Then you tell him to request a transfer or you're gonna investigate what laws he broke when he put a video cam in your private bathroom."
I was feeling very humiliated at being aroused by the thought of another man fucking my wife and I tried to explain that to her but she put her fingers on my mouth and told me not to talk about it.
"I love you very much, darling," she said. "Let's go upstairs and get in bed and I'll tell you all about Ben Ziegler. He's the only guy we've got to work with but I got two weeks worth of confession plus a couple of years in college to talk about. That confession will certainly be good for me and maybe you'll enjoy it."
"Then we'll take our sex lives one step at a time to where ever they go. And as long as we keep loving each other, where our sex lives go doesn't matter."
I loved her. I loved her with all my heart. I was a very lucky man to have her for a wife.