Alex - 10 Days of Torment Ch. 03

© 2021, All rights reserved - mimaster

Alex's indiscretion changes Christina

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Monday, January 21st

Try as he might, Alex got caught. He didn't know it, thinking he'd been careful. He normally was. All men think that way, especially those with high IQ's and assertive personalities. He was the epitome of an Alpha Male, operating at the top of his field in his professional life.

He was no different than other men that fit in that select category. They think they're too smart or too clever. In his case, in this instance, he simply figured his wife wasn't aware enough. He did all the right things, constantly retracing and covering his tracks. His downfall was being too lax, assuming that if he slipped up once, she'd never know it.

In truth, he was right. Christina was a lot of things, but computer savvy wasn't necessarily one of them. She wasn't stupid by any means. She was college educated, and spoke multiple languages. She was actually incredibly smart, which was one of the things that attracted him to her. He could never be in a relationship with someone that he couldn't converse with. But as with any individual, there were strengths and weaknesses. Christina used a computer, or her smartphone on a daily basis. She just never showed any expertise on the ins and outs of how they actually worked.

Alex wasn't necessarily proficient, but he knew enough to set up their home network, and he was confident in how to manage his search history to keep what he was doing from her if she ever might stumble upon it accidentally. His approach seemed to be successful. He'd gone months and months without a hint of her discovering his newfound passion. He became emboldened with each passing day, secure in the idea that his dark secret was safe. If it wasn't for an article she'd read on line that morning, she probably never would have never found out.

It began because Christina was thrown off of her routine. She was a creature of habit, finding comfort in having a daily schedule she followed religiously. Her Monday had been thrown off kilter because of a holiday of all things. She didn't get to work out because it was Martin Luther King Day, and the kids were out of school. She wasn't angry they were home, but she'd be lying if she didn't admit it agitated her a little bit.

Having to adapt her morning to deal with the needs of her children, she was resigned that she'd have to adjust on the fly, as unsettling as that made her. In truth, her kids were very self sufficient, able to take care of themselves. They gotten themselves up and made breakfast. They'd get dressed on their own later, both deciding to stay in their pajamas a little longer because they could. But as a mother she was cognizant that if they did need her, she had to be available. That meant she couldn't do what she normally would have, the most important of which in her mind was working out.

She'd done some chores, starting some laundry and emptying the dishwasher. She used a swifter on the hardwood floors to the great room in the back of their palatial home. Then she settled into the office to pay some bills online. Having finished, she decided to give herself some me time, knowing she'd easily be able to walk away if Tommy or Sarah needed something. She opened a browser and typed in the familiar address. She wanted to peruse one of her favorite websites to learn more about the world outside the walls of her house.

The article she stumbled upon was basic clickbait, but the headline drew her in. It offered tips on how to surreptitiously determine what's been viewed on a computer. She only tried because she figured she'd one day have to check on what her son was up too. He was only ten, but he acted much more mature than that; a trait he shared with his father. While their daughter could be precocious, the boy could be downright scary, showing too many signs of what he already knew about the real world.

The timing of the history search couldn't have been better. Or worse. Christina was shocked by the volume of sites that popped up on the list and the crudeness of what she saw when she opened the first of them. She'd never viewed internet porn before, and her eyes were opened in ways she never could have imagined. She was sickened at first by the sheer vulgarity. Then she was a bit relieved, if only in that the times and dates confirmed that her little boy was still somewhat innocent, at least in regards to sex.

Her next reaction was one of anger, because she knew it was her husband that had been looking at all of those sites. The betrayal in that moment was profound. It was like discovering he'd had an affair, and it had her questioning everything she knew about him. This wasn't accidental on his part, like he'd searched for something and clicked absentmindedly on a link that took him to the wrong place. There wasn't just the one. She discovered several of them, all featuring porn videos.

Checking deeper, she realized there was one he frequented a lot. He'd viewed over fifty videos in just a two-night period. She looked at the dates and times the links were opened, confirming that it happened that very weekend prior, when she'd taken the kids to visit her parents. He'd had to cancel going along at the last minute, having to work over the weekend on a big case that was critically important to his law firm.

She knew he hadn't lied about that. It was in all the local papers, and he'd been working incredibly long hours all week in hopes he'd be able to go. A lot of people at his office were working extended hours. That's why her initial anger over him backing out of the trip dissipated quickly. It made for a hellish weekend on her part. Her mother was an unbearable, manipulative bitch that had made her life a living nightmare growing up. She'd only mellowed once Christina found a good man to keep her in line. With Alex not going, her mother would revert to some of her old tactics.

She was a bit surprised she'd made it through the weekend without being whipped by a switch. It seemed plausible that it could happen without him there. After all, the evil cunt, as Christina thought of her mother, had administered that kind of physical punishment to her regularly, all the way until the very day she left for college.

She made it through that weekend physically unscathed, but the emotional trauma had an effect. She'd wished he would have been there to deflect that burden. At the very least she felt he would have been thinking of her in his free time while she was gone, knowing what she was likely going through. Instead he was coming home to an empty house, and apparently his way to relieve the stress from the case was to watch other people having sex. Her anger wasn't just that he was looking at porn. It was that they weren't having sex. At all. They hadn't been intimate

in a couple of months. It was evident that he was using porn instead of her, and that was crushing.

Her final response to what she was seeing on the large screen was one of surprise. Not happy. Not sad. It was a sense of confusion that resulted from clicking the mouse to open another viewed video. As she navigated through what she could only imagine was a stage of grief over the state of her marriage, she started thinking more analytically. It was how she was wired, trying to determine why Alex would be doing what he was doing. In truth, she immediately thought to blame herself, her upbringing always trying to slant her in that direction. But she quickly stopped, knowing there was more to this.

It didn't take long. Each video she opened led to the next, like they were strung together. She went in sequence, following down the exact path he'd taken the first night and picking up where he left off the next. Doing so helped her, in that she could see how his mind might have been working. There was a logical thread from one video to the next, as perverse as that seemed to her at first. She got over the shock of what she was looking at quickly, instead focusing on the idea behind the content. Why would he go there? What would he look for next? What was he seeking in his life?

The answer came as jolt. Apparently, her husband wanted her to have sex with other men. It was the only logically conclusion she could make. After all, the overwhelming majority of what she found had a similar theme. It didn't start there, mind you. The beginning of his first search was more general, that of brunette women fucking. She was a little relieved that she at least fit that category. He wasn't looking at blonde transvestites, or eighteen-year-old lesbians.

She noticed a change early on, from highly polished porn to an amateur variety. The women in the videos went from obviously paid professionals to being more down to earth and authentic. The images weren't slick and produced. They actually weren't staged at all. These were real women, having sex in front of a normal video camera. Some were in their homes, but most seemed to be in hotels rooms.

Soon after, Christina noticed a shift in the ages. The women became slightly older, the word mature appearing in the titles more often. There were a lot of variations within that genre. Most of the women were just seemingly enjoying themselves. Then she saw some threesomes, followed by a few gangbangs. There were even a few women having sex in public, which astonished her.

She didn't watch much at first, just clicking from link to link, trying to get a feel of what he wanted; what turned him on. It was something they'd never talked about, their sexual desires. She didn't even know what hers were, and yet there she was trying to discover his through internet sleuthing. In a moment of reality, she found herself closing and locking the door to the office, wanting to make sure the kids didn't interrupt her detective work.

She found herself looking at the videos longer over time, telling herself she was just that; a detective. Like her own private investigator. She was trying to determine what her husband might have found exciting. She stopped from overreacting a couple of times, realizing that one or two of his selections were very likely clicked in error. When she'd skip to the next one on the list, it would fall back in line with the logical progression of what appeared to be his subversion of choice.

When she reached the final link Alex visited that first night, she was a bit taken aback by what she saw. It was in the same mode as most of the other videos she'd seen up to that point, with one notable exception. The man having sex with a wife on a hotel room bed was huge, and he was black. She was obviously a wife, her wedding ring prominent as she pressed her big breasts together while she took a pounding. The hotel room was also pretty easy to confirm, the décor and the garish bedspread they were humping on offering just two of the many clues. And the perfect, dark-chocolate skin, shimmering with sweat was a dead giveaway to the man's race.

Christina watched the video intently; unable to tear her eyes away from what was happening. The woman was pulled to the end of the bed, her ass at the very edge. The man was standing, holding her legs straight and wide apart. He was grasping her ankles with his huge hands, holding her still as he hammered away. There was such a contrast between her porcelain skin and his dark tone it seemed almost as if the video was shot in black and white. Her red heels, the only thing the woman was wearing, made Christina aware it was indeed in color. That is if the orange and brown comforter didn't give it away.

It was the only video that Alex went to his first night alone that she watched in its entirety. In fact, she watched it twice. It occurred to her midway through the second viewing that there must have been a reason he'd stopped after it. He'd finished masturbating. Why else would he have stopped when he did? It certainly wouldn't have been from boredom. The sequence of videos had brought him to his climax, both figuratively and literally.

She didn't stop there, though. As much as she hated to admit it, she'd become aroused by that last video. It had been the crescendo to Alex's first night. But watching that magnificent, muscled man have his way with a wife whose husband was not only filming it but encouraging her from behind the camera had Christina at the start of her own erotic journey.

She moved on to what he watched the next night, actually happy that he picked up where he left off. He actually must have watched the same video a second time, or at least used that as his starting point. From there he moved to more of the same. She found link after link after link; all of them with amateur white wives having sex with well-hung black men. Soon she started paying attention to the video titles, finding code words and descriptions that were similar. Amateur was the first one she'd noticed the night before, combined with wife. She began seeing hotwife instead, which made her wonder what the difference was. There were also two she couldn't figure out; BBC and cuckold.

By the time she got to the last video, she was a mess. She'd been breathing raggedly for over an hour and she couldn't deny that her pussy was dripping. All the men, their huge hard dicks pounding women that begged them to go harder and deeper...it was all too much. For the first time in her life, she succumbed to the temptation to masturbate.

She couldn't remember ever taking a pair of jeans off faster. Then off came the soaked panties. Clicking on the replay button, she spread her legs wide just like the woman on the screen, putting them over the arms of the computer chair. She began fingering herself wildly, imagining her digits were the huge black monster she was now obsessed with.

The wet gushing sounds she heard weren't coming from the speakers. It was from how hard and fast she was jamming her pussy. Adding a third finger, she felt the tide swell inside her and seconds later she exploded. It was an orgasm unlike anything she'd ever experienced before.

Panting as she watched the conclusion of the video in a daze, she had a sense her life was about to change. It scared her, but as she let her wet fingers fondle the soft strands of her pubic hair, leaving behind a cool, damp sensation, she closed her eyes and thought of all that just happened. It left her with one burning question

"Does Alex really want me to do that?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Friday afternoon, January 25th

After seeing the videos, Christina struggled with her feelings over the rest of the week. While she was angry with Alex for using them instead of her for sexual gratification, she couldn't deny how she reacted to them; particularly the ones from his second day of searches. She found herself going back to the computer several times a day, every day, looking at them over and over. Every time would result in the same thing, a mad scramble to take off her pants and masturbate.

By the third day she didn't bother with the scramble. She knew she would succumb to the temptation again, so she'd get undressed before she even started. Not content with just taking off whatever she was wearing below the waist, she would totally strip before sitting down in front of the computer. It became a new part of her daily routine she looked forward too. One that she excitedly added.

That daily ritual came to an abrupt end, however. When she sat down behind the computer early Friday morning, all the links were gone. Every one of them. She panicked, thinking she'd done something wrong, checking and rechecking to make sure she hadn't changed anything on her own without knowing. She finally realized that Alex had gone in himself and erased his tracks. She fumed about it, more than she had about finding his porn habit in the first place. It was like she'd been given something and then had it taken away. It took her a couple of hours, but once she'd calmed down, she realized the irony. He'd gotten her hooked, and now she couldn't get her fix.

While it was true she may not have been computer savvy, which gave Alex the impression that he didn't have to be ridiculously careful, that didn't mean she was computer stupid. She may not have known the ins and outs of managing a search history like he did, but she knew how to search on the internet, probably better that he did.

She didn't start searching for porn though. She began by learning how to find what he'd been looking at another way. He may have deleted the history, but she knew there would still be hints left behind of what he'd been looking at. She just needed to figure out how. Still sitting naked in front of the screen, she began her own tutorial.

In just a few hours, she'd been able to teach herself how to get the information she was looking for. In doing so, she discovered that he'd been looking at porn on line for... well, she grew tired of going that far back in time. She could only assume by the volume of sites discovered that he'd been doing it in his spare time whenever he got the chance. All that mattered to her from a past perspective was that the frequency went up about the time she perceived their marital problems, namely the lack of sex, began.

She also discovered that he'd visited more sites the night before, after she'd gone to bed. And she was thrilled that they continued along the trail he'd been recently traveling. It was definitely his favorite genre. White married women having sex with incredibly hung black men. He was all over the place early on in his viewing choices. It had taken him a while to hone in on what he really found exciting. But it was readily apparent what truly drove his sexual desires.

Once she queued up the first video from his previous nights clandestine masturbation session, she began one of her own, her fingers easily finding her pussy. It was like the needle of a junkie tapping a vein; she was soon soaring toward the ecstasy she was so desperately in need of.

When she finished, she gathered herself together and headed off to the gym. She was going much later than normal, but her whole routine had been altered that week. She blamed it on her husband's internet infidelity, but in truth it was her own new dirty secret that had gotten her life off kilter.

Every other day that week, she'd gone to the gym right after dropping the kids off at school, before then coming home to have her fun. But she'd become so worked up that morning in the van, anticipating her new daily workout in front of the computer that she raced home instead.

She never dreamed she'd be getting to the gym so late. Having to figure out how to find what he'd looked at the night before took a couple of hours since he'd deleted his history. It seemed strange, almost foreign when she walked inside. But once she settled in and started her workout, she vowed to never go early again.

Riding the stationary bike, like she always began her workout, she saw him. He was across the room, helping another woman. And by helping, he was leaning up against her, holding her steady as she tried a piece of exercise equipment she had no business attempting. She could hear her laughing, and the man smiled and continued to try to show her what to do, but soon after he excused himself, making his way to another member.

Christina's eyes followed him like a laser, never leaving him. He was tall and muscular. He was powerful and athletic. He was graceful and fluid as he moved. Her eyes gazed over every inch of his incredible body, studying him. He oozed confidence, totally in control of himself in a way unlike any man she'd ever encountered, and she hadn't even encountered him yet. She'd been around successful, powerful men all her adult life. Her husband was one of them. But they paled in comparison to this man, and that wasn't just because he was black.