It was a lazy Saturday afternoon when the doorbell rang. Michael was at the computer in his home office. I was in the kitchen baking. I answered the door. It was our neighbor, a bit panicked; something about their swimming pool pump spraying water everywhere.
With a tone of panic, I called, "Michael!" He quickly emerged from his office.
"What's wrong?"
I waved him towards us with my hand. "Betsy says their pool pump is spraying water all over the place!"
Instantly, Michael sprang into action. The good neighbor side of him was always on call. As the three of us rushed through the side gate to their backyard, we saw Betsy's husband, Phil, soaking wet and contorted over the pool equipment. Betsy and I watched as our husbands worked together to stop the flow.
After a few exciting moments of entertainment, the guys had the water turned off and were assessing the damage. Betsy and I chatted and giggled when a loud glare from Michael chased us off.
That's when I remembered my baking. "Oh my goodness, Betsy; I have cookies in the oven!" I turned on my heels and sped back to our home and directly to the kitchen where I found in my oven a cookie sheet with smoldering discs of dough, black dough.
I pulled the burnt offerings out of the oven and set them on the table, shaking my head as I considered my loss and how much worse it could have been. I headed to Michael's office. My intention was to simply google "how to clean up burnt cookie dough" on the computer. But...
Before I had a chance to begin my search, a pop-up chat window floated to the middle of the screen. It was a yahoo messenger instant message window. My eyes could not avoid it.
BustyBabe69: bey baby, you there?
At first, the text on the screen did not fully register in my mind. I just stared at it. Confused at the content. Before I could make sense of it, another message appeared.
BustyBabe69: you there sweetie?!
I tried to ignore it. I couldn't. I tried to deny it. I couldn't. I tried to brush it off as some random, naughty ad, but it wasn't. I knew better.
I just stared at the screen. A flood of confusing thoughts and emotions rushed over me. What is going on? I felt angry. I felt a sting of betrayal. I also felt curious. I had to know more. Who is this 'BustyBabe69'?!
My confusion quickly morphed into paranoia. Was it Betsy with her 36dd breasts that Michael's radar seemed to never miss? Standing with me moments ago popping out of her tank top, I had no doubt that Michael noticed. But that didn't make sense. He was still in HER backyard. She was there too.
If not Betsy, then who? Someone from work? Someone from church? My mind flipped through mental files searching out the possibilities. It was a cruel few moments of craziness.
Thoughts were exploding in my mind like, 'omg - what if it is my sister?! She has always been too flirty around him... and that bikini she wears when swimming here... so sheer that it shamelessly reveals her nipples when wet. Damn her!'
Before I could rule out my sister, my mind jumped to Jen, one of my best friends. She was closer to me than my own sister. A frequent visitor in our home. She had her own key for heaven's sake! And ever since I knew her in high school, she had always been the slender babe with great boobs.
Or was it Liz from church? Always wearing those slinky dresses and push-up bras.
Before I knew it, the list was growing to the point it included women whose names I did not even know. I was experiencing a sense of temporary insanity as my mind raced to keep pace with the images pounding in my brain.
So, in the moment, it was less risky and far more logical that my hand extended to the keyboard. With a quivering finger I tapped out three letters...
TittyFuckingHubby: h e y
An audible gasp escaped my mouth as my eyes and mind were assaulted by that screen name attached to those three, tame letters I had just typed. Then, a split second later...
BustyBabe69: you feeling horny today? need some relief for that throbbing, hubby cock?!
I was paralyzed. Those screen names! It was overwhelming. I wanted to scream. I wanted to reach through the computer and claw the flesh of some slutty bitch. But before I could do anything else...
I heard Michael in the garage. Looking for some tools. I scrambled to my feet like a spooked animal. Then terror gripped me and screamed at me: THE COMPUTER!!
I jerked around and reached for the mouse. With an awkward couple of clicks, I effectively erased the evidence. BustyBabe69 was gone. So was TittyFuckingHubby. Well, at least gone from the screen. Definitely NOT from my mind.
The next few hours were a blur. Baking... cleaning... thank-you pizza with Phil & Betsy. I kept a close eye on Betsy as we ate the pizza and laughed at the spectacle of the guys trying to cap the geyser. Every time she giggled those damn, oversized breasts of hers jiggled like Santa's belly. Even though I could tell Michael noticed, I did not sense a vibe between them.
Perhaps Betsy was off the hook, but all I could think about was what I had seen, what I had experienced. It was disturbing to say the least.
When we finally came back home, Michael jumped in the shower. I sat quietly on the couch contemplating how I should bring this up. Should I just confront him? Should I tell him what I saw and give him room and time to explain? I was perplexed.
Then, whether it came from the pit of hell or some dark corner of my mind, a thought flittered into my consciousness. I mused upon it. I considered it. In midthought, Michael returned from the shower. He settled into the chair across from me, totally unaware of the war raging within me.
Somehow I managed small talk with him about Phil's clumsy skills at home repairs, the cheap pizza, and my burnt cookies. The entire dialogue was anchored beneath an invisible banner I could see hovering over him which read, "TittyFuckingHubby."
Secretly, I was angry and I was paranoid. What was worse and certainly ironic, was that I also felt overly aware of my own breasts. There sat my husband, self-proclaimed "TittyFuckingHubby", no more than ten feet away from me. How many thousands of times had he fondled and sucked my breasts? How many times had I felt his erection sliding through my cleavage? So many times, in moments exactly like this, he had given me that all too familiar look as his gaze lingered on me, his eyes slithering along my curves like a serpent on the hunt.
But now I struggled to make sense of things. I felt my heart pounding. I was constructing a plan even as we chatted about the day's trivial pursuits.
Then he, as he so often would do, grabbed the remote control and turned on a ballgame. I followed suit and reached for my laptop and logged in. It was surreal. We were in our typical routine; Michael watching the ballgame while I scrolled through Facebook updates on my laptop. Or, at least that is what I appeared to be doing.
But, that thought was germinating. Suddenly, it was in full bloom, exploding into my mind with such force that I had to give in to it. My fingers fumbled with the keyboard and mousepad, manipulating my way through a series of prompts and directions until I arrived at a window asking me to create a screen name.
I was about to step across a threshold of naughtiness that dared to usher me into a room that was completely dark. No walls or floor were visible; just an open pit funneling down towards the most craven of appetites; lust, revenge, lies, betrayal, perversion, twisted lives.
I took the step.
My first try reflected my naive mind. I typed, "BigTits". Instantly a message informed me that somebody else had already claimed that screen name. A few variations with random numbers at the end were suggested.
I did not want numbers. So I tried again. I typed, "BigTitsforHubby". Green. Good choice. Move on. Set password; check. Confirmation code; check. I was in. Then, stepping down the phantom hallway, I headed for that dark room. That filthy screen name was still burned in my mind. My first order of business was pure and simple (if such words could be used in this context); send a request to "TittyFuckingHubby" to be added to his contacts.
Done. Then the wait.
I dozed off, only to be awakened by Michael turning off the TV and heading to the office. For the first time, I felt keenly aware of his movements as he made his way to the desk and the computer. I was not dumb. I had sometimes suspected that he dabbled in porn, especially when he would sit at his computer late at night, only to soon after slip into bed with an erect and impatient cock. But tonight, I had specific thoughts about specific filth.
What amazed me was less than two minutes after he slipped away, he added me! It felt so calculated.
Then no more than a minute later, on my laptop, that pop-up window appeared...
TittyFuckingHubby: well hello! i just added you.
It was happening. Already. I was dazed. I glanced over my shoulder, repositioning myself on the couch so that he could not see my laptop screen from behind me if he were to come back in the room.
I took a deep breath. Then...
BigTitsforHubby: Thanks and hello to you too.
I tried not to sound stupid, but this was new territory for me.
TittyFuckingHubby: sooo, does your hubby know what you are up to?
BigTitsforHubby: He has no clue!
OMG. No truer words had ever been typed! I continued...
BigTitsforHubby: What about your wifey?
TittyFuckingHubby: no clue either. she would kill me if she had any idea!
The irony of the moment, his words, this entire exchange was almost too good to keep to myself. But of course, I had no choice; I had to. I had to continue moving forward into this dark room. I had to explore for answers. I had to exact some level of revenge.
He continued...
TittyFuckingHubby: so do you share pics?
I was floored! My husband was no more than a few lines into a chat with a random woman he believed he had never met before, and he was asking for pictures?! I had to quickly gain a foothold in order to maintain my anonymity and further my own intentions.
BigTitsforHubby: Slow down big boy! do you ask all the girls that question?
TittyFuckingHubby: lol my apologies. But I am turned on how our nicknames seem to fit together so well! looks like we could have a lot of fun - heh heh
BigTitsforHubby: What kind of fun do you like to have?
TittyFuckingHubby: well let me ask you this. are you married?
I had to answer. But in that split second, I decided that I had to be as honest as possible without giving away any hints to my true identity.
BigTitsforHubby: Yes I am
TittyFuckingHubby: does hubby satisfy you?
BigTitsforHubby: Yes, usually he does, although all men have their ups and downs, if you know what I mean
TittyFuckingHubby: lol
There was a pause in the chat. My mind knew where I wanted this chat headed. But pulling the trigger on setting that direction was frightening. It was risky. It would open a door to the unknown, as if I had not already had enough surprises for the day!
BigTitsforHubby: So, does wifey satisfy you?
I gulped as I awaited his reply...
TittyFuckingHubby: honestly, she's a hot little fuck. just not often enough.
BigTitsforHubby: Not often enough?
TittyFuckingHubby: nope. i am a guy who needs to cum at least once a day, hopefully more than that!
BigTitsforHubby: WOW
I actually uttered that word aloud as I typed it, instantly slapping my hand over my mouth as if I had just blurted out a profanity in church! I thought we had a decent sex life. We made love two or three times a week. We also FUCKED every week or two; just that raw, animalistic explosion in the moment. I had no idea that Michael was masturbating every day though!
TittyFuckingHubby: yep. but it's not like she doesn't get benefits from my playtimes! heh heh
BigTitsforHubby: Benefits? What do you mean?
TittyFuckingHubby: sometimes she gets an especially hard throbbing dick for a good fucking after i get worked up in chat ... no complaints ever! lol
BigTitsforHubby: So this is your foreplay?!
TittyFuckingHubby: put it that way, i suppose it is sometimes. other times, it is more like "inter"play!
