As the West Coast sales manager of a security surveillance company out of San Jose, I have access to all the latest technology in the field. We sell to police, private detectives, and companies wanting to "keep the employees honest." When my friend Jake asked me whether I knew anything about the newest in GPS technology, I saw it as an opportunity for something I'd wanted to do for some time. I got him what we sell to police and private detectives. It was the best there was at the time, and he was extremely grateful, beginning to write a check. I told him it was "on the house," although I didn't tell him why.
On the dashboard, I had installed the latest in miniature cameras that can film and record up to 50 hours. With each new card you can film indefinitely. I wanted the ability to record what went on in the high front seat of his F-150. Why would I want that? My wife and Jake ride together to work and he usually drives. Perhaps, I thought, they did more than chat in the broad bench seat of his truck on the way to work, so I included the GOPro and watched the action for myself at work during lunch or any down time I had before or after work hours.
It wasn't that I wanted to catch them at screwing around and have a reason to bust her. Not at all. What I wanted, and had for years, was to see my wife with someone else. I had tried to get her into swinging, to have a threesome, or to just throw off the traces and take a lover, but she denied having any desire for such things and refused all my suggestions and hints. "I'm not that kind of woman," she'd say with a grin.
For the first memory card, about a week of their carpooling, it was watching total inaction, absolutely nothing, just two people sitting in the front seat of a vehicle as the miles and minutes went by. I fast forwarded through a couple of hours of uneventful chatting, staring out the window, his driving, her reading, and whatever else they did that had nothing to do with sex, nothing to do with what I wanted to see. Although I had no sound, and I would have killed to hear the conversations, I disappointedly watched and my spirits went down. Three weeks of their riding to work, after I installed the camera, I finally hit the Mother Lode.
I'd been watching for ten minutes of their ride home on a Friday with little happening, and not much hope, only wordless conversation I couldn't hear. It was during the third week of my surveillance when my wife suddenly kicked off her shoes and put her bare feet on the dash. It was an unusual move and it caught my attention. The position opened her legs and exposed the white triangle of her panties between her thighs. It was a wonderfully casual gesture and left her panty-covered pussy in clear view of the camera. I was sure Jake could see it as well. I watched her casually spread her knees and blatantly expose her panties to our friend Jake, even smiling coquettishly as she sat on the passenger side of the car and looked over at him.
In less than two minutes, I got what I had hoped for. Jake's hand suddenly appeared in the picture, his fingers touching her pussy, then reaching to the lower portion of her white patch, his palm rested on my wife's sex.
She made no effort to discourage him, but put her head back on the seat and smiled. Then after he snaked a finger under the edge of her panties, she picked her bottom off the seat and pulled her panties down her thighs. Finally, my prayers were being answered. My wife was baring her pussy for another man, eagerly spreading her legs for his hand.
Slipping a finger into her, he played with her pussy for about seven minutes until she came in a obvious explosive orgasm. It was wonderful. Then Claire got on her knees and crawled across the seat, unzipping his fly and fishing out his erection. They must have pulled over, because he took his hands off the wheel and put his head back while my wife eagerly sucked his cock. There it was right before me, my wife giving lustful head to the man she rode to work with, exactly what I had hoped for.
