"I took pictures of her"
Husband's View
When Jerome and his friend left, I drove up to the back of the house, composed myself the best I could and walked in. I suppose I was expecting to find her in the living room cleaning up the evidence but I didn't. I could hear the interracial DVD playing a looping scene for the main menu with a white woman sucking off two black cocks. She turned to the camera smiling and said, "Once you go black, you never go back!" and then the whole thing repeated again. I turned it off and went upstairs.
Our bed was a mess, the sheets pulled off the corners, the smell of sweat and sex clung to everything. My wife was passed out on the bed with her legs spread open wide. I walked quietly to the side of the bed and knelt down to see if she was okay. She was breathing at least. I ran my fingers through her hair and pulled them back when I touched something sticky. Cum. Another man's cum! I quickly wiped it on the bed sheet and inspected my fingers. Once I was sure I had cleaned them off I examined the scene before me. Her make-up was a mess. Her lipstick smeared. Her hair was all over -- it looked like the whole side of her face and head was dunked in cum. There was fresh cum all over her chest and lingerie top including a big glob on one of her nipples. The straps to one of the thigh highs had come loose and the stocking was half way rolled down her leg. Her pussy was oozing more cum from her red puffy lips. She looked sore down there for sure. Her sexy shoes were on and the left heel had pierced the sheet. She looked like a crime scene without the blood.
What was I to do? If I woke her now it would turn into a massive argument. If I pretended I never saw her she might deny the whole thing ever happened just like she had all week. The fact that she was doing all this behind my back angered me. This was fortunately tempered only by my own inaction by allowing the incident to unfold. If we were going to divorce I certainly wasn't going to let her get away with all this and deny it in court however. I went downstairs, grabbed our digital camera, and returned back upstairs. She was still in the same position as before. I took picture after picture, capturing all the evidence of her wrongdoings. As I shot the pictures I became angry with myself for getting hard again. My slut of a wife had conditioned me to get excited from her getting pleased by black men and now here I was witnessing the end result of such a day.
I took out my penis and rubbed it right there by the bed. Using some lube from the drawer I jacked off quickly and quietly, staring at my wife's body and face, picturing the brief moments I watched her getting fucked by two other men. My load squeezed out of me as I came, dropping onto her arm that hung off the side of the bed. There. That felt better. I zipped back up and grabbed the camera, stuffing it into my pocket, and headed back downstairs.
Yes, I had to wait to confront her. I just couldn't do it right now. I left the house and waited down the street until she called. She always called me before leaving if I was running late. This time, however, I was surprised that there was no call. I drove around the back and saw the car. She was sleeping so late! Not wanting to get spotted I drove back around to the front of the house and waited some more. I actually got a little worried and got ready to call her when I saw her drive past me on the opposite side of the road. Just then she called me but it was obvious from the start she had no idea I had been in the house. She filled me in with a few easy lies and then hurried off the phone. She was definitely going to be late for work.
And so I went back home and inspected Melissa's rapid clean-up job. I was impressed; my wife was practiced in covering up her infidelity. I cracked open a beer and sat. I thought about everything for a great long while and then loaded up the pictures on the computer (I kept them on the camera too, of course). I wrote out a long note explaining how she betrayed me for the last time and how our marriage was over. RIP! I tore it up. I wrote out another note and told her I thought she looked sexy on the bed today -- RIP! I tore that one up as well.
I wrote six notes to her and all of them ended up in the trash. In the end I simply said, "WENT TO BED EARLY. MAYBE TOMORROW NIGHT WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS". I looked at the pictures one more time, tiling them across the screen so that there was no way to avoid seeing them. Even asleep she looked beautiful. My wife was a sexy woman and I was lucky to have her. Or at least to have had her. I jacked off again, disappointed by the little drop of cum that oozed out of me.
Climbing into bed I was just thankful she had changed the sheets before she left. I set my alarm clock for an extra hour early to make up for the time I lost by leaving work prematurely and fell fast asleep. Emotionally I was drained.
The next day was not fun. I was behind at work and then arrived home to my wife screaming at me for taking pictures of her. I told her she had no business complaining about pictures after fucking two men in our marriage bed. We argued for an hour until it was time for my wife to go to work. I couldn't manage to get my point across and I don't know if I had one to begin with. In the end I just didn't like being left out of the loop. Before I was there for her indiscretion but now she was cheating behind my back and lying about it too. When I asked her why all she could manage was "I couldn't help it!" She apologized and cried and asked me what I wanted to do but I couldn't answer her. I simply had no idea how I even felt.
And so it went on and on. The weekend was miserable. I slept in the guest room and my wife up in the bedroom. I couldn't bear to walk out and she didn't dare to be alone. Instead we just operated autonomously in each other's company. Three solid days of silence punctuated by the occasion of a screaming argument. My checks on the toys and dildos and movies found them unused -- an unexpected and somewhat vindictive victory for me. I had finally killed her mood. And then Monday rolled around and everything changed again.
Chapter 2:
"The houseguest moves in"
Wife's View
To be honest I had forgotten all about Becky staying with us. She showed up around noon without calling and had her three bags of clothing and two other bags with her. It looked like she was moving in permanently.
I greeted her as warmly as I could and fixed us both some lunch. The construction on her parent's house was going to open an entire wall and involved ripping out old plumbing and old wiring. It left the bedrooms and bathrooms exposed to the elements. Even her parents had decided to stay in a hotel. Why they hadn't paid for their own daughter to stay at the hotel I never figured out, but perhaps the fact that they were charging her rent implied that they wanted her to be more self-reliant.
I brought her to the guest room upstairs, showed her where the alarm clock was, the light switch, the extra bedding if she desired. I pointed out that the door never really shuts -- it always popped open and the best you could do for privacy was either shut it as far as it would go (cracked about 3 inches) or block it with a chair. It was a house from the '80's and when it settled the door frames to the guestroom and the closet just never closed right.
Becky talked and talked and talked, filling the quiet of the house. I just listened to her, occasionally asking a question about her schooling or her boyfriend. It was nice having the company after the weekend my husband and I went through. When he finally came home he was shocked to find her in the house. I made the introductions and he was quickly enamored by Becky's sweet smile. When she stepped out of the room to get ready for work, the fighting started again -- this time in low tones and whispers.
"And when were you going to tell me about this?" he demanded.
"I forgot! With all of-" I waved my hands around "-THIS going on it slipped my mind. She needs a place to crash and it's only a week-"
"A WEEK!?" he screamed.
"Keep your voice down. Yes, a week."
"And I guess you and I are sleeping together in the same room?"
"Yes, we've only been doing it for six years I am sure you can manage to do it for another week."
"Does she know about all of your lovers?"
I looked at him and wanted to slap him. "NO, she does not know and I'd like to keep it that way."
"So once again we are doing things your way?"
"What does that even mean? Listen, we're going to be carpooling to work this whole week and you still have the house all to yourself. Nothing has changed except for the weekend. Let's just get through this work week, okay?"
He brushed me off and went up to our bedroom as Becky was coming down. We got in the car and headed off to work. As we drove I could feel her staring at me. She looked at me with a concerned face, "I hope I'm not causing a big inconvenience."
I sighed, "No, I just forgot to tell him and he isn't big on surprises these days. It isn't a problem at all."
When I got home I wasn't expecting my husband to be awake, but he was in bed reading, waiting for me. He asked me how work went and if Becky was settled in downstairs. The tone was civil but I could tell something was on his mind.
"So what are you thinking?" I asked him.