My wife thinks I’m gone. She doesn’t know that I’m watching her cheat.
I lied to her. I drove off and instead of heading to the airport, I headed to the place I built. The place to spy through all my hidden cameras and watch my wife at home.
She’s not alone for long. I made sure that he would be there to keep her company, both of them believing a lie that blames me because I know this is what they really want.
My wife and my best friend. They look so good together and they keep such good company with each other. They’ve gotten so close of late, I just know that it’s a cover. Well, they’re in my trap now and I’m going to get the proof I need.
And with each passing moment that they get closer I realize that I’ve had it all wrong. They’ve never cheated before but they will tonight. They will because I drove them to it, not to catch her and make a clean break but for a deeper reason and a darker reason.
I need to watch. I can’t look away. They’re betraying me, moment by moment, but I’m loving every second of it.
And I will keep loving it. And I will keep watching it.
And I will see them break my heart and I will deserve every last ounce of pain.
Excerpt
I can’t look away.
Staring at them as they pull at each other, as they tear at their clothes and practically rip them from one another’s bodies. Their skin flashing into view and then pressing into one another, hands roaming as they move each other and beg for more.
The sounds of them, his breathy grunts and her pleading moans. I can practically feel the shivers of desire, of need, coming through the screen and I can’t stop watching it.
I told myself this was all just to see whether or not she was cheating on me. I fucking lied.
They stay fixed in the center of my vision but my hand drifts over and I check the levels and the different outputs from out of the corner of my eye. I make sure the light in the program is still blinking red, still recording every moment that is happening in front of me. I see that it is and I feel a surge of relief and I know why I should be feeling it but that’s not the reason it comes to me.
We have a prenup that makes it so that if she cheats, I’m covered. Proof of her cheating on me is proof enough for me to walk away with everything, every dollar I’ve made that I’ve ever hidden from her. So I should be relieved because this keeps my wealth in my pockets but that’s not what this is, that’s not why I feel this. The relief in me comes from something else, from somewhere else.
It comes from something so much harder to admit.
Through the screen she slips down his body. She kisses his skin like it’s all she’s ever wanted to do and I flick a different camera to center screen as she falls to her knees, a shot from the corner that offers me the perfect side view as she parts he lips and takes him halfway down with a single thrust.
My wife is sucking the cock of my best friend and I am happy. No, happy isn’t the right word. I’m satisfied.
Why am I satisfied? I don’t understand it. I don’t understand the feelings I have inside of me and I don’t know why I’m not angry right now, why I feel not an ounce of vindication and why I cannot in any way imagine bringing her to court over this and then it clicks, first one revelation and then the other falling in sequence like dominoes.
She moans as she pulls back and his cock is slick with her spit. It glistens in the light of the room and a strand of it connects to her bottom lip and trembles, I think it’s her that is trembling. She breaths heavy, her hand moving from the base of his shaft up and down the length of it as she strokes him again and again and again while she looks him in the eye before she slides down to taste him once more.
If I take her to court then this ends. If I divorce her then she’ll do this again. Either with Pete or with someone else, but I won’t be a part of it. She won’t be breaking the bonds of her marriage and she won’t be betraying my trust and, more than anything, I won’t be able to see it and god I need to see it.
She is moving fast now, so fast that she uses both hands to hold him steady. Her fingers slip around him, and then he’s moving because she’s not holding him back. His hips thrusting up to meet her lips and his groans coming heady and masculine. They echo through the headphones I wear and somehow stir old feelings within me that confuse me even more.
Once isn’t enough for me. I need to see it again for the same reason I need to be sure the recordings are happening. I need to watch this over and over again. I need to have it happen for me, to have it be perfect. But it isn’t perfect, yet.
I watch as she strains to take him, nearly choking on his length as he pumps it up into her. His hand moves quick and grasps her by the hair and he’s rough with her, pulling her down as he pumps up and he takes her and claims her mouth for his cock and it’s all a prelude to what comes next. He’s going to fuck her. He’s going to show her what he can do.
And I’m going to watch, constantly searching in my mind for what else I need. Checking the levels and double-checking the recording and wishing beyond hope and dream that I could figure this out because it’s like a puzzle where I’m blind, fitting the pieces together in the vain hope that when I’m done I’ll be able to see a picture I no longer have any eyes to see.
But I need it. I need her to have him. I need him to take her.
And he gives me what I need.