Sunday morning and my wife Angela and I had driven over to her parents' house; they didn't live far away and we often visited for lunch. Besides Angela's parents -- Martin and Heather -- we were usually joined by Angela's two younger sisters; the twins, only fifteen, but could pass for twenty-one... Jail-bait in the first degree.
Angela has an older bother too, but beyond Christmas or perhaps on his mother's birthday he was rarely in attendance. He too lived only a few miles away, but his parents, most especially Martin, didn't approve of his lifestyle choices, so their relationship was strained; I already knew that he wasn't going to be there today.
The usual format was for Martin and I to walk down to his local pub for a couple of beers while Heather and the three girls finished preparing lunch; but not today it seemed. We arrived to discover that the twins wouldn't be joining us at all, as they'd gone off to play an away match with the tennis club and that Martin was currently down at his golf club and would be late.
Yesterday had apparently been the Golf Club's monthly-medal competition (whatever one of those is) but the competition had been abandoned due to thunder storms in the late afternoon; we'd had those at our place too, they'd been pretty lively. So Martin, along with a dozen or so other members, had needed to return to the club this morning to complete their rounds.
Martin had apparently phoned Heather before we arrived, to get lunch deferred until one-thirty and tender his apologies to me, for not being able to join me in the pub beforehand. Not going to the pub would be no hardship; I'd always thought the regular customers there were a bunch of unapologetic 'Little-Englanders'... Much like Martin himself really.
I declined Heather's suggestion that I go down there alone and instead offered to help with making lunch. That proposal was firmly rejected by my Mother in Law... Men don't cook, or indeed do anything around the house, such things are woman's work. I could see Angela standing behind her mother, struggling to stifle her laughter as Heather explained the way the world - or her version of it at least -- worked.
I'd long known that this was how Martin saw the world, but hadn't until then realised that Heather was equally... onboard with his thoughts; I'd always assumed that Heather just went along with him for a quiet life. With that explained to me, I proposed that I would instead get my laptop out of the car and check a few emails while I waited for lunch.
"Oh, that reminds me... there is a job you could do for me Steve."
"What, do you want something checking out online Heather?"
"No, nothing like that, but you could perhaps fix our big computer; it stopped working on Thursday and nobody in this house has the first idea of how to fix it. I was going to call the computer-man tomorrow, but as you're here and you know all about computers... I'll bet you could sort it out in a jiffy."
Angela was once again fighting to quell laughter behind her mother's back, this time at the suggestion that I was any sort of expert, at fixing computers. But I'd got nothing better to do and what's that old adage: 'In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king'. I headed for the staircase, tossing a wink to Angela as I went.
The 'big computer' lives on the dressing table in the guest bedroom and to be honest I hadn't realised anyone ever used it; it was always sat with a cover over the keyboard on the odd occasions we stayed over. Heather used an iPad, and while the twins had those too, they seemed welded to their phones; Martin of course claimed to have no interest in such modern fripperies and 'never looked at the damned internet'.
I sat down and turned on the power; it seemed to take forever to warm up, was it steam driven? When it eventually came into life, I saw the problem immediately; or one of them at least: Everything was frozen and a banner across half of the home-screen advised of some hard-drive threatening fault, which could only be rectified by sending $250 via Western Union.
Yeah, right, sure it will; this problem was perhaps within my limited abilities. I restarted the computer in safe-mode, searched for the most up-to-date restore point prior to the previous Thursday and let it whir. Five minutes later and we were up and running, albeit at a somewhat pedestrian pace; the computer was far from new, but it shouldn't have been this slow.
How much crap was on this computer? I downloaded -- eventually -- the free version of the Avast virus-scanner programme and let that run through the system. That took ages too, though to be fair, that was less surprising given the ever growing list of Trojans, Viruses and Malware it identified; once it'd finished I quarantined and then deleted the lot of them.
The computer felt much refreshed, but how had they all got there? Whereabouts on the internet had the family been going? Based on personal experience I had a fairly good idea and headed straight for the search-history to confirm my suspicions. Yep, and they hadn't even had the sense to use the Windows 'incognito' setting.
From the titles alone it was clear that the History list was wall to wall porn sites; mainly videos by the look of things, but Literotica and some other story sites had got their fair share of visits too. I opened a few stories at random and they were almost all reluctance/non-consent or BDSM, even those few that weren't tended toward the rough/male-dominant end of the spectrum.
The videos that I checked out too were all predominantly Male-Dom, some including bondage with a few showing threesomes and gang-bangs. It seemed that Martin perhaps wasn't quite so unfamiliar with the internet as he'd claimed? I also noted that few of the women in those videos were young; was that perhaps a little too close to home when you'd two teenaged daughters?
Martin wasn't just a casual porn-surfer either; I found two regularly visited sites that he was paying subscription fees for and it was that discovery which made me pause. I went back to the Desktop screen and confirmed what I thought I'd seen earlier: I knew that Heather took care of the household accounts and it was this machine that she'd recorded them on.
How had Heather not spotted any of those internet searches when she was using the computer? Similarly, if Heather were the one who checked the bank accounts and paid credit card bills, why hadn't she noticed and queried those subscription fees; what electronic equivalent of a 'plain brown wrapper' were they being charged as?
A return to the computer's search history, but now with a 'what if...?' mindset answered those questions: The visits had without exception been made on mid-week days, though rarely on a Wednesday and almost always between 1:00 and 3:00 pm. Martin would've been at work then and the twins at school; but Heather only worked in the mornings... except for Wednesdays.
I was still getting my head around that revelation - OK, I was checking out a few more stories and videos too... looking especially for those that had been re-visited -- when I got a call to say that lunch would be in ten minutes. I made a few notes, closed down the computer and headed downstairs to report that all was again working as it should.
I'd given Angela and Heather a rundown of what'd gone wrong with the computer -- though not why! - and a précis of how I'd fixed it and set up the Avast programme to scan automatically. By the time Martin arrived that conversation was over and never mentioned again, instead we got a shot-by-shot recap of how Martin's golf-round had gone, so lunch was even more boring than usual.
Well, it would've been, had I not been distracting myself with memories of those stories and videos and imagining Heather in a starring role. I was - hopefully discreetly - looking at my Mother-in-Law in a very different light during lunch and indeed afterwards too; I must've been pleased by what I saw, as I don't think my cock ever dropped below half-mast throughout that whole afternoon.
Heather's no super-model, but once I began looking past those mumsy clothes and the sensible shoes and hairstyle, I realised that she was quite fit... Definitely 'shagable'. A slim, brow-eyed, brunette with a reasonable pair of tits and -- from what you could see of them -- a cracking pair of legs; definitely worth a fuck and clearly not as prim and proper as she pretended.
As usual, we left just after four o'clock; I excused myself to use the toilet as we did so, thereby ensuring that Angela and Martin had already gone out to our car when I said my goodbyes to Heather at the front door. Heather always waves us off from the doorstep, while Martin watches us reverse safely out onto the road; I don't think he's heard about reversing cameras.
Heather and I exchanged gentle hugs and polite kisses on the cheek and as I'd expected, or at least hoped, Heather thanked me once more for fixing the computer.
"No trouble at all, my pleasure; but I'm glad you reminded me, I forgot to give you this when I'd finished..." I pulled a folded sheet of paper from my shirt pocket and handed it to Heather as I concluded "That virus-blocker I installed is good, but not infallible; most of the crap on your computer looked to have come from these three websites, so it might be best if you tried to avoid them in future."
I was walking away even as Heather opened the page and was sitting in the car's driving seat before I looked back. Heather was as white as a sheet and staring straight at me; until the moment that I grinned, winked and gave her a wave. I saw the colour rising on Heathers cheeks from fifteen feet away; she was to distracted or perhaps embarrassed, to return my wave as we reversed out and drove away.
Beyond Martin's rambling about his round of golf, which went on for too long to ignore completely - thank God he'd only played the last six holes this morning - I couldn't remember a single thing we'd talked about that afternoon. Whatever Angela and I discussed during the thirty minute drive home is lost to me too; I was too distracted with thoughts and fantasies about Heather.
