Sophie and I rarely spoke of our lives before we met. I knew she had lived with a guy for a couple of years while going to college. She knew I'd had a bad experience with an ex-fiancé. What mattered to us, was that we loved each other enough to stay married for four years, the sex was still good, if not as regular as it once was and we wanted the same things out of life. We wanted a home far into the suburbs, maybe a couple of kids, and enough money to have some of the things our friends enjoyed. One of those things I was enjoying was our new computer.
We justified the expense of having it, because my wife was a copy-writer for an advertising-agency and sometimes had to bring her work home. When the ten-year-old word-processor we'd bought from a pawn-shop, finally died, I said she should have a new one. The new machine was the latest thing, with five-hundred and twelve Megs, eighty gigs, and a fast two-point-five Hertz processor. When I casually suggested we should also get Internet service, Sophie had no objections. She did playfully accuse me of planning to use it for down-loading porn. I denied it, but I lied. Some friends of mine were into sharing down-loaded pictures of lovely nude women and I guess I wanted to fit-in.
Soon I was sitting in front of the screen every time Sophie left the house. I had learned enough from listening to my friends at work, to purge the files I had copied to a removable disk and how to cover my tracks so my wife wouldn't suspect. I even grew bold enough to join some of those on-line communities who like posting their favorite pornographic images for all to see. Some even posted photos of their own wives and girlfriends. I thought they were crazy. I knew my Sophie was beautiful and I liked to see the envy on other guys' faces when we were out together, but I would never voluntarily give them a peek at her sweet body.
It was while visiting one of these sites that I happened upon a group of pictures posted by a guy who called himself, "Lazy Forty". The man had excellent taste in women and I was happily down-loading his files, when a particularly lovely blond caught my eye. She looked amazingly familiar. It was only after I had copied the photo and expanded it, that I realized, if the woman was brunet instead of platinum-blond and her pubic region wasn't shaved, she could my wife. The next photo nearly floored me, because it was of the same woman, her back to the camera, smiling over her shoulder. Tattooed on the shoulder was a tiny smiling monkey, exactly like my Sophie bore. I went through the set twice before I was certain these were the only two of the woman.
I magnified the photos. I printed the photos. I compared them to other photos of Sophie, but it was only when I raided her scrape-book and located the pictures of her with her former boyfriend, that I was sure. She was younger, had a slightly different hairstyle, but the smiling blond woman embraced in the arms of a well-dressed black man, was the same nude vixen I had copied from the Internet. I groaned as I realized I was going to have to bring this to Sophie's attention. If her ex-lover was trading her intimate photos, there was always the chance someone who knew her, would see them. My wife was going to know how I had come by the pictures and I had no idea how she might react.
Surprisingly, she reacted not at all as I expected.
"You didn't have to hide it," Sophie chided me. "I don't care if you look at other women, as long as you don't touch. I've never said a word to you about the drawer full of magazines and video-tapes in your chest."
"I didn't know you knew."
"Of course I know," she replied with a wink. "Estrogen gives me a license to ransack everything in sight."
"Well, what about the pictures?"
"What about them?" she repeated, as she turned back to sorting the groceries she had purchased.
"It doesn't bother you to have them floating around the Internet?" I asked, aghast at her calm.
"Certainly it bothers me," she replied, "But they're out there already and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Honey; drop it. That was years ago and I'm a different person now. Heck, I even look like a different person, so enjoy my blond-slut pictures when you run across them and don't let it worry you."
"Well, just how many pictures are we talking about?" I asked.
"Robert was an amateur photographer," she said, "And I was his favorite subject. There were quite a few, but in most of them I was dressed. What I don't understand is, why now? He's had the photos for years and been in bad financial scrapes a couple of times, but he never sold them. Now, he's working with some kind of official envoy in China, of all places and doing well. Maybe I should call his brother and find-out what's going on."
She took the kitchen phone off the hook and dialed a number from memory.
Seeing the look on my face, she grinned and explained, "Carry is my best friend in the whole world. She married Jim back in ninety-eight and introduced me to Robert, his twin brother. I think she was kind of upset when we broke it off, but that's how it goes."
Her eyes suddenly went wide and she exclaimed into the handset, "Hi, Girl! It's me, Sophie!"
A screech on the other end of the connection could be heard across the room and suddenly the women were engaged in the mad, complex, rapid-fire, exchange of personal and social information, only they could understand. After the fifth change-of-subject, I was lost and stayed that way until my wife noticed me again and held up one finger.
"Carry, Baby," Sophie interrupted the conversation, "I need to ask you something. Have you, or Jimmy heard from Rob lately?"
An excited babble on the other end made her eyes roll, as if she were hearing something irritating, for the thousandth time.
"No," she said into the hand-set, then with more insistence, "No! Carry, please listen; I'm still happily married to Mike... Yeah, Mike. I'm not looking to hook-up with Rob again. I'm just trying to find out why he sold some of our stuff. Everything I left behind, he said he wanted and wouldn't part with any of it. I mean... if he needed money, he could've called me. He should never have sold our personal things."
For the next several minutes, Sophie's face went through a series of expressions; from irritation, to anger, through piety, to become resigned amusement.
"Okay, Carry. I understand. When you hear from him again, give him my best. Say hi to Jimmy and the kids for me. Sure, let's get together sometime; I want you to meet Mike. Okay, I'll call you. Bye, bye."
"Poor Robert," she sighed as she put the phone away and returned to emptying plastic bags. "He has woman-troubles. Seems, he married a girl from Hungary, a couple of years ago and they've had a stormy relationship. Robert is crazy in love with the woman, but nothing he does for her is ever good enough. She's left him three times and each time he managed to talk her into returning. The last time, she sold everything they owned, including his personal belongings and left the country; for good. I guess our pictures went with the rest. Carry thinks I was talking about the record-collection; we had some great, one-of-a-kind, seventy-eights and vinyl. I didn't bother to tell her different."
"I can understand why you wouldn't," I remarked.
This made my wife stop what she was doing and give me a frown.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I didn't..." I began, trying to forestall the flash of anger I could see in her face.
"Just because I don't want my naked butt showing all over the world, doesn't mean I'm ashamed of anything I've done," she snapped. "Those pictures were meant for Rob and me, along with a few trusted friends. No one else was supposed to see them. I'm sorry if that offends you, but I'm not the one surfing the net for porn. Am I?"
I had to do some very intense ass-kissing to calm her down enough so I could leave the room. I beat a hasty retreat.
Over the next few weeks I looked for more of her photos, in different locations and on several adult sites. I found one occasionally and when I did, I would show it to her.
"That was Christmas of ninety-nine," she said of one, which displayed her nude except for a Santa hat and bells taped to her nipples, then of another, "I think that was taken at Rob's birthday-party, and before you ask... I was the only one sober enough to remember and I have only a vague recollection."
I kept posting messages to "Lazy Forty" until he finally sent me an e-mail, telling me where he had gotten the photos. I went to the site, called "Girlfuss" and had to subscribe to see anything. After endangering my credit-card to the tune of about thirty bucks and scanning thousands of thumbnail images, I located her sets under the alias, "Blonde-bomb" and down-loaded everything available. There were about two-hundred photos, most in color; varying in theme from demure panty-shots, to out-right vulgar fingers-in-spread-pussy shots. As familiar as I was with my wife's body, I have to say, these pictures still made me hot and horny.
I tried contacting the company, explaining the circumstances and asking them to remove the photos from their site. They informed me they had bought the films in good-faith from the person claiming to be the photographer and had signed permission to use them. The company did offer to provide all records of the transaction, should I decide to sue the photographer. I knew that wasn't going to happen. Sophie and I spoke about it briefly and it was her contention, we should let time and neglect do the work for us.
.... There is more of this story ...