A Secret Revealed

A Secret Delayed

"Can I turn on the TV?"

The words echoed across my room like an exploding bomb. I had just watched my ex-wife enjoy thirty-five minutes of locked door, in the bedroom, sexual private time with her husband Frank. Through no fault of my own, my son Tom had left the camera on but TV off after a quick Skype call when he was looking for his shoes. Perhaps if his mom wasn't such a pain in the ass, he wouldn't have felt rushed or too scared to let her know he couldn't find them.

When her TV turned on, she was going to see her ex-husband, naked, spread out on his bed with a limp penis that miraculously came two times during the voyeuristic activities. The butt play. The masturbation. The role play. Scenes I never got to experience when I was married to Beth, but scenes I enjoyed more than any porn show I had ever watched. I looked around for the remote, wondering if I could shut down the call before she turned on her TV, her husband slowly passing out next to her from his recent orgasm.

"Don't. I have to get up early for swimming lessons." Frank moaned next to her.

I froze, watching the screen, unable to penetrate any activity in the darkness of Beth's bedroom. Beth's questions generally were not asked for permission, they were more rhetorical statements, letting people know what she was going to do. At least, that was my experience when she asked if she could turn the TV on. I heard some rustling of covers.

"Oh...does poor daddy have to get up after sleeping for 8 hours?"

Beth was teasing, but making a point apparently about having to get up at night to nurse their daughter Emma, slightly passed one year old. As Beth was still not working, having decided she was not ready to practice Speech Pathology again at her grade school, Frank wasn't buying it. The frequent baby sitters and cleaning ladies didn't help either.

"You've got your naps. I get my 8."

This was probably not a good tactic with Beth. She did not like to be reminded that her day really consisted of taking care of the kids, naps, and making sure the cleaning lady did her job right the first time. But, to my surprise, Beth gave in. Based on the work she put in while masturbating in front of the mirror, I guessed she was equally ready for bed. I was spared discovery.

I lay back and thought about what I should do. I successfully DVRed my ex wife letting her husband have some "bunny time" and ending with some yoga role play with Beth on her hands and knees. It was going to be a treasure for life. I could end the perpetual Skype call, turn the TV off, and be happy.

On the other hand.

Just knowing that I was spying on Beth, the woman who called the police on me during our divorce, the woman who would pick up Tom from day care on my days before I could arrive, the woman who was only able to function while on a steady dose of Prozac, was very intoxicating. I rolled over, turned off the light, and the three of us drifted off to sleep with the TV on.

It seemed like the moment I shut my eyes, a soft crying could be heard. I bolted up, wondering what could possibly be in my house. Instantly, I realized it was from the TV. Emma was up and ready for a feeding. I almost felt like it was my responsibility to go and get her for Beth. I glanced at my clock. It was 4:30am. I figured we all fell asleep just past 10pm, so really, Frank was right. Beth didn't have it that rough.

I stared at the darkness and wondered what their strategy was. With Tom, I had to get him, make sure he was changed, and then bring him to Beth. However, as I listened, I didn't hear any talking or requests from Beth. Covers rustled, the monitor was magically turned off, and then I heard the door open. For 20 minutes, nothing happened.

Then, as quietly as she left, I heard Beth close the door and return to bed. There was no drama, no bickering, and no resentment. I lay back, wondering why it was so difficult for Beth and me. Were we just young and stubborn? Did I expect too much, or did she learn that she had expected too much? I slowly drifted back to bed struggling with the new attitude that Beth displayed, both sexually and as a wife.

My eyes popped open, waking instantly from a dreamless sleep. I quickly looked at the clock, knowing that I had slept longer than I wanted. It was 9:30am and my eyes flashed towards the TV, wondering if I missed Beth's morning wakeup. Apparently, the activities from last night, plus the early morning feeding, did me in. And I failed to set an alarm.

My body washed over with relief as I saw Beth lying alone in bed. Frank had slipped out and I guessed on his way to the pool. It must have been her rustling or waking process that woke me. I could see her legs moving around under the covers. Then her arms, moving up to her pillow as she lay on her stomach. A mass of blonde hair covered her pillow. I found my remote, hit record, and watched.

10 minutes I watched, lying in bed, naked and erect. I rubbed myself slowly, enjoying the ability to watch the beautiful woman who lay before me in bed. Unaware. It wouldn't have mattered who it was, but knowing it was my ex-wife made it all the more provocative. Her anger and hatred towards me made it all the more rewarding. Beth didn't stir.

I stared at the screen for another 30 minutes. It was approaching 10am and I knew that I could be watching for hours. Beth had always been a sleeper, even in college. I sometimes attended classes for her as a reward for special "explore" time, as she would call it. It wasn't much more than her letting me looking inside her vagina and marvel at her cervix. She would always giggle when she teased me by squeezing shut her vagina.

There would be no giggling now, though, if she caught me just looking at her in bed. My mind imagined the responses, the accusations, the threats. There was an occasion in our marriage where she cut the cord on my computer, tired of the time I was spending on it. I imagine she would cut my head off, hell, both of my heads, if she found out what I was doing.

It was approaching 10:30 when her next bit of movement woke me from my daze. I blankly stared at the TV. Her head had popped up and an arm extended to the night stand to grab her phone. Her body deep under the covers, Beth let out a sigh as she leaned on her elbows. She looked at her screen, and after a few swipes and taps, she put her head back on her pillow and rested.

After a moment, her phone chirped and indicated she had some message. Rolling over, Beth slowly sat up against the pillows, dragging the comforter with her. She smiled at her screen, apparently happy with the message. Her face, even with the makeup faded and lips back to their natural color, was angelic in the morning light. Magically, her hair had maintained the straight and golden flow as it draped around her

Beth touched her screen, sat up, and placed the phone to her ear. Her hands had left the comforter and it hung magically above her chest. Her slender neck, pale shoulders, and just a small hint of cleavage was all I could see. Beth licked her lips and coughed as she prepared to speak.

"Hey honey."

Apparently she was calling Frank, as I expected.

"Yea, I just got up. How's swimming?"

I remember the lessons well. For the first hour, I would swim with Tom. Then, for the second, the kids would float around the pool and get in and out as they pleased as the parents watched.

"Yea, I got the picture. She looks like quite the water lilly."

Ah, the Water Lilly program. It brought back memories. They had the usual banter back and forth, but all I could focus on was the comforter. Beth would talk, adjust herself, and the blanket would fall an inch. At bit more cleavage, another adjustment, and even more exposure. It got to the point where at least half of her breasts were now being displayed as she sat up, unconcerned with any sort of discretion as she sat alone in her room. The conversation had moved on from the lilies.

"How long are you going to be at your parents?"

Franks parents lived about 30 minutes away, and apparently, Saturday was to be a day Emma got to spend with her grandparents.

"That's fine. I can use the break. Just get back for dinner, OK?"

It looked like the comforter was being held up by Beth's long, extended nipples. The stretched white skin of her nursing boobs was almost fully exposed. I started to massage my erection with a purpose, grabbing some lotion from the night stand drawer. I was a little raw from the night before.

"Maybe. You had a lot of bunny time last night."

Frank was clearly trying to plant the seed for another night of sexual exploration with Beth. I wondered if I would be able to get another show. Beth smiled and looked down. She pushed the comforter off of her chest and looked at her breasts, now completely exposed. Her large, dark areolas stood out like a beacon in the night against her pale skin.

"Mary and May are fine. I'll just pump some milk today."

Mary and May were more than just fine, they were beginning to swell from approximately 6 hours of milk storage. After 8 hours of not nursing, Beth would always be ready to explode. Clearly, her physiology had not changed in terms of milk production. My erection swelled as I ogled the biology that made Beth, that made Elizabeth, a mother. Her chest was intoxicating.

"Oh, you would, huh?"

Beth giggled, talking into the phone. After a bit of husband and wife banter, she ended the call.

"Love you to."

"How sweet." I thought to myself. But, as I watched, Beth held out her phone and pushed out her chest. Her free hand lifted a breast, almost presenting it to the camera as a gift. Posing erotically, she smiled like a teenager taking their year book picture. With a flash, the image was recorded for the cloud. Beth brought the phone down and seemed to type out a message. With a final tap, Beth sent her topless photo on its way. "How fucking hot!"

Christ. Our marriage was never a part of the digital revolution. Flip phones without camera's was the rage, and now, it seemed like Beth had adapted to the new popular belief that the roll of a good wife was to keep her husband satisfied with erotic pictures and texts. I would have loved to get a hold of Frank's phone and paged through his gallery. I imagined there were quite a few bunny shots as well.

Beth rolled out of bed towards the bathroom and I was presented her bleached white, soft and round ass. I almost wanted to thank her out loud. It was a one second view of an ass that I would recognize anywhere. A definite heart shape and roundness that was not fat, but merely the bottom of a woman with curves that accentuated her splendor. The dimples at the base of her back were beauty marks that made her exposure all of the more exciting.

As quick as she was out of bed, she entered the bathroom, disappeared to the left, and was out of site. I could see a sink to the right and a shower reflected in a mirror. Apparently she was using the toilet, out of my sight, or rather, the camera's. I listened to an intense stream in the distance as she urinated. Then, for several minutes, there was nothing.

I began to wonder if there was another door out of the bathroom. My erection was beginning to fade, sensing disappointment. I was about to pause the recording when I heard the distinct flush of the toilet and the seat drop down. Beth apparently just needed some time to finish whatever she was doing.

In all of her naked glory, with her dark and heavy bush providing a geometrical balance to the large and dark nipples on her chest, Beth appeared. She had her phone held up to her face as she walked into the room from the bathroom. Her breasts swayed gently, clearly out of proportion to the rest of her curves. She disappeared from sight to the right and I heard a door open. After a moment, she walked right in front of the camera wearing a robe, moved to the hallway at the back left of the room, and disappeared as quickly as she appeared.

I'm not sure what I thought would happen. I guess I had hoped she would just lie down on the bed in front of me and spend the next two hours playing with herself. To open up her night stand, bring out a giant fake penis, and probe herself before my ogling eyes. Obviously, I had been watching too many movies online. What I was watching was life, and as they say, life is not like the moves.

I figured I'd let the TV keep recording as I zipped downstairs to grab some coffee and orange juice. I half expected to find Beth in the kitchen, standing in her robe, and getting breakfast ready for the two of us. The kitchen was quiet, as was the world outside. I grabbed what I could as quickly as I could and headed back upstairs.

Nothing indicated that I had missed anything. I rarely spent my day zipping around the house naked like Meg Ryan. Being able to watch your ex-wife, nude, in her own house, changes the daily routine, I suppose. I would have run naked outside, if necessary. I leaned back in bed, coffee in hand, and waited.

Beth was not a big morning eater and it didn't take long for her to return. I may have watched her giver her husband a blow job the night before. I may have watched her bend over and let him lick her asshole. But it was like I was watching her for the first time as she entered. The small, pink robe that ended between her hips and knees was as sexy as any underwear I may have seen her in. Not because of what it revealed, but because of the personal and private appearance it generated. It was not something Beth wore for people other than herself.

Stopping in front of her dresser to the left, Beth leaned forward and stretched out her face, wiping away any sleep that might have been left over. She opened and closed her mouth, smiling, looking at her teeth. She began to rub her nose, using two fingers to softly pinch the center and clear away any material. Then, wiping her hands on the side of her robe, Beth looked at her phone.

Slightly coughing to clear her throat, Beth swallowed, puckered her lips, and looked in the mirror. She smiled coyly at herself. Holding the phone to her ear, she waited. Suddenly, her eyes lit up with a strange, secretive appearance.

"Well, hello Bikram Yoga. This is Elizabeth."

She giggled softly as she said it. I could instantly tell that she was being mischievous. While her right hand held the phone to her ear, her left hand slipped down and untied her robe. With a soft movement of her shoulders, Beth let it slip and fall to the ground. She stood proud, in all of her nakedness, and talked.

"Well, hey yourself. Are we still on for 12?"

Beth moved her left hand up to her breast and turned sideways, lifting it, admiring her profile. My eyes darted from the pale ass she was showing me to the self-molestation Beth was performing while talking on the phone. Apparently she was getting off on talking to someone while she was naked. I wondered if it there was more to it. I found some more lotion and began to molest myself also.

"The usual. My legs. And my butt."

Her "butt"? That is not a word used by a woman in common conversation. It almost sounded like phone sex. Beth turned her back to the mirror as she said the word, looking at her ass, squeezing it, admiring it, running her hand over it. Her tongue curled up to her top lip, listening intently. Smiling, Beth turned to face the mirror again.

"I might have some."

Beth bounced her right tit, feeling its mass, watching it in the mirror. She repeated the process with the left.

"Oooh...They seem pretty full."

Holy shit. Beth's little verbal exchange last night with Frank was more than just role-play. There was no way she would tolerate a conversation like this with anyone unless she was sexually involved with them. She was clearly fooling around and Frank was oblivious.

"Alright, I'll bring the coffee...and milk."

With that, Beth hung up, clearly turned on. Her right hand put down the phone and immediately went to her pussy. For a quick two seconds she rubbed her clit, looking deep into her own eyes. The phone call apparently riled her up, but she quickly stopped, apparently not really intent on trying to make herself cum. It was just a quick jolt to her system. A warning shot, telling the crew to get ready for action.

With a quick shiver, Beth turned and walked right towards me. I watched her tits bounce on by, engorged with milk, and then her ass walked away into the bathroom. Past the mirror and the sink, her reflection came into view and Beth reached in and started the shower. My penis knew that a show was hopefully about to begin.

Beth returned to the sink and found her toothbrush and toothpaste. It was almost comical to watch her ass and chest jiggle to the forceful brushing. The bending over, tits briefly swinging as she spit. Her chest being thrust forward as she filled her mouth with water and gargled. The violent swing of her boobs again as she leaned forward to spit. Everything about her simple, daily routine turned into an electric, voyeuristic display. Even her bush, standing out two inches from her waste was undeniably erotic.

Beth walked back to the shower and slipped in. I was crushed to see that the glass provided a very generic figure of a woman adjusting the temperature, standing under the water and starting to let her body relax from the warmth. Sure, I knew it was Beth. And obviously she was naked. But, the distance and blur eliminated a big part of the thrill.

I could only imagine the water falling over her breasts, dripping onto the tile from her hard nipples. The matted bush, now lying flat against her pubic bone. I could vaguely see her hands washing over her body, moving to her butt, probably trying to clean away any dirt in the dense hairs around her anus. She seemed to squat for some time, probably cleaning her vagina, letting last night's sperm drip out from her. As she stayed in the position for quite some time, it was pretty obvious Beth was cleaning herself for a probable sexual romp with the yoga teacher.

After some apparent scrubbing of the hair and rinsing of the body, Beth seemed to just stand still in the shower. What could she possibly be thinking of? The previous night? Her husband? The imminent encounter? Or, was she thinking of nothing, unconcerned with the world around her as she cleaned her body and mind. I was at a total loss.

The water stopped and brought my mind out of its wondering trance. The shower door opened and Beth stood tall, pushing the wet hair back from her head and letting the water drip from it. Her chest glistened from the moisture, nipples soft and puffy from the warmth. The hair from her bush hung low between her legs, dripping dry. I wished for nothing more than to be lying under her, catching the small droplets with my mouth.

And then I looked again at her bush, realizing that there was much less of it. Shockingly less of it. What was once a full, unshaven V, now seemed to be a slender two inch strip of hair that had a round appearance to the top. It was a classic landing strip, no longer having the hormonal, middle aged woman look to it. It seemed to take 10 years off of Beth's appearance, if that was at all possible.

Grabbing a towel, Beth walked in front of the bathroom mirror and began to dry herself. She bent over, running the towel through her hair as it draped down in front of her. It looked like her mammary glands should be hooked up to a machine to process her milk. It was oddly erotic, thinking of Beth on all fours, hooked to a machine, being sucked dry.

Standing, Beth turned and pushed the towel deep into her butt, aggressively wiping and drying. She pulled it out, inspecting the towel for stains, and then repeated the process. When she was satisfied she was clean and dry, she dropped the towel into a hamper and grabbed a hair dryer on the counter.