Watching Jennifer

This story is part of a developing series. Search by author name for others.

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The Motion Alert appeared on the lock screen of Rich's iPhone. They appeared every time Jen walked in front of the master suite Nest Cam and transmitted HD video that Rich could view on his phone or tablet. The husband had installed Nest Cams for home security well before the separation. He hadn't showed Jen the remote viewing capability, only because he knew she'd have no interest.

The motion alerts always caused an unwelcome rush of adrenaline but had become predictable as to what time of day they occurred. There is one generally just after 10 PM each night as she goes to bed and just before 7 AM each morning when she gets up. He generally never opened the app because he knew it was her and her daily routine was of little interest.

This one was different. It was 1:47 PM on a Wednesday. Wouldn't Jen still be at her 12:30 yoga class? Rich reached for his iPad and opened the app to view the broadcast. He pressed 'RECORD'.

There on the screen was the Macy's bedspread they bought together at a President's Day sale, on the other side of the bed was her dresser on which sat a Seiko World Clock given to them as a wedding present.

And there she was - coming from out of frame to sit at the end of the bed, hurriedly stripping her yoga clothes off for someone just out of view. Smiling and laughing she pushed back and centered herself on the bed. And there he was, playfully jumping on top of her as she spread her legs with an excited giggle.

Rich felt stricken. With adrenaline coursing through him, he was nauseous but could only dry heave painfully. All the muscles in his stomach and throat seem to spasm in concert. He gasped for air, his mouth suddenly dry. He turned away from the screen.

But he could not look away long. Foreplay, if there had been any, must have occurred in the living room or the family room. The mystery partner simply pushed himself into the young wife's receptive folds and began to thrust vigorously. He supported himself with both arms and kept his face close to hers, smiling and talking, but not kissing.

Jennifer affectionately rubbed the man's nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and maintained an animated banter. Apropos to nothing Rich could see his wife had been tanning somewhere, perhaps on their deck, perhaps at a salon. He could see the area that had been covered by very small bikini top. The suitor also had a very pronounced tan line at his waist. Had this encounter been preceded by clandestine liaisons at some sunny locale? Rich dreaded the thought, however improbable.

The visitor penetrated the young wife with a steady piston-like action, changing position slightly ever so often as if to insure the head of his staff scraped the whole of her womb. Rich could hear Jen's fevered encouragement. The man was saying something Rich could not make out. By this time he figured the sex partner was from her yoga class.

The voyeur husband felt defeat and despair as he watched his wife arch her back and put her hands on the man's buttocks to pull him deeper into her middle. The shy wife first struggling with the separation now seemed to embrace her newfound freedom. She was putting to rest her fear that men wouldn't want her.

The visitor straightened his arms and thrust from his core. Rich could see a length of the man's ample cock as he plunged it in and out of the young mother. She resumed rubbing his nipples. Then she reached out and put her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.

They kissed deeply and passionately. She caressed his neck, the side of his face and his chest. He straightened his arms again and resumed his thrusting in earnest. It was clear by her body language that the kisses were too few, she lifted her head as if to follow his lips but surrendered back down as he intensified his pounding into her. He lowered his face so that she could hold it in her hands. It was a compromise.

It was apparent she wanted intimacy; he wanted to use her tight hot snatch. The husband watched in real-time as the young wife spread her legs to make the iniquitous trade, to hold up her end of this carnal deal with the devil. The man stopped to rest, moving up to his knees. As if on cue she rolled over and went to her hands and knees in front of him. He held her hips and guided her back onto his shaft which she welcomed with a lustful moan.

They began a rhythmic thrusting and Jen cried out with every penetration. Her pert breasts shook. She tossed her hair and bowed her back. She planted her palms and pushed her hips back. She was loving the prolonged fucking she was receiving. Her lover's face was out of frame and his words were difficult to distinguish, but he was clearly enjoying ravaging the pretty young woman accepting his cock so appreciatively.

The man slapped the young mother's writhing ass leaving a sweaty red hand print. Rich heard his wife respond with in a sultry hiss, "Spank me. I'm a nasty girl." Rich closed his eyes in resignation and pushed a weak breath through pursed lips.

Rich took stock of himself. He felt deflated. To his mind, the vicarious thrill of wife-watching was a myth: he was not pole hard and stroking himself, or otherwise excitedly engaged by proxy in this furtive coupling. His wife looked beautiful and happy. At this moment, for this husband, the notion of enjoying watching your wife being fucked by another man was foreign and impossible to comprehend.

The copulating pair would not stop their carnal liaison anytime soon, but Rich couldn't watch any more. He closed the cover on the iPad, and slid it away from him. He got up from his desk and stepped into a world that would forever be different.