My name is Dan Morton. I am single and a junior partner in a large CPA firm in San Diego, where I have worked since graduating from college two years ago. I live in a neat condo complex close to the beach, with a nice exercise room and pool. The exercise room is important to me because I'm into body building -- not extreme stuff - just good muscle tone.
Most people here are close to my age and one of the other junior partners at my firm, Billy Walker, has a condo here as well. Billy's wife, Catherine, is a gorgeous brunet who wears a string bikini around the pool. I am not the only guy who drools over her fabulous figure. Catherine is shy and retiring and Billy tends to dominate her, but they seem like a nice couple.
Billy has been with the firm for a year and some of our people think he's an arrogant little bastard. Maybe because he's so smart! Graduated at the top of his college class and knows the laws and the regs better than anyone else in the firm. And he's a hard worker.
One Sunday afternoon we were enjoying the sun, lounging poolside. I was trying to admire Catherine's figure without being too obvious about it. She was a brunet, five-six, about 120 pounds, with a really neat ass, and boobs that looked like they were about to break out of her bikini. Her skin was tanned to a lovely golden bronze, and you just knew, as you looked at her, that when she was naked there would be sexy stripes of pearly white skin that had been shielded from the sun by those tiny pieces of cloth. She was drop dead gorgeous!
She looked even better after her husband pulled her into the pool. When she got out and hurried, shyly, past me to get her robe, the water had made that white bikini almost transparent and I was treated to a delightful view of two large nipples and a thick hairy beaver. Billy checked out my eyes as I admired her.
I shot a few frames of video of that figure when I thought she wasn't looking. Billy took some video of me after I bragged about my skills as a diver. I practically belly-flopped! Billy told everybody about his trip to Denver the previous weekend for a tax seminar. Catherine had gone with him and they had taken in a performance by Cirque du Soleil.
It was a lazy afternoon sipping vodka cocktails of one sort or another. There was something about lazy afternoons in the sun that made vodka the best drink. I had a steak in the frig to grill on my balcony that night and a good bottle of Williams Selyem Pinot Noir -- too expensive to serve to crowds on my income, so I drink it alone or with a special guest. Tonight I was alone. I picked up my video camcorder from the table and headed upstairs.
When I got inside my condo I turned the camcorder on to see how my pictures of Catherine had turned out. In the viewfinder replay what I saw was a picture of my lousy dive. I had picked up Billy's camcorder by mistake. It was a Sony just like mine, sitting on the same table.
I wanted to see that dive again so I backtracked and hit replay. Shit! What I saw was Catherine Walker, naked in bed, getting fucked by a big stud!
I hooked up the camcorder to my computer and downloaded the entire video file. Then I went to the beginning and watched the whole thing. I had wondered what Catherine looked like naked, and there she was, stark naked in spike heels, walking across what was obviously a hotel room to get in bed. Those magnificent, milky white breasts contrasted with her well-tanned body. She had a lush, curly-haired, brunet beaver that almost completely covered her clit.
Catherine staggered a bit as she got in bed. She looked like she had been drinking a lot. Then this big stud -- he had to be six-three -- came into view. He had a cock on him that would qualify him as an actor in a porn movie. It was hard and sticking straight out. He walked up to the bed and got in next to her. Catherine rolled over on her back and spread those lovely legs. The stud crawls between her legs, shoves that monster into her, and starts banging away. Catherine's big boobs jiggled as he fucked her.
Her legs were wrapped around his waist and the milky white triangles on her ass looked so sexy that I started to get a hard on. He was hammering her like a whore. Her legs, high in the air, were bouncing rhythmically as they fucked, her spike heels making the picture all the more obscene. It couldn't have been more than five minutes before he groaned and pumped his load. Then he lay there for a minute before he rolled off of her.
The cameraman -- I assumed it was Walter -- moved in close between her wide spread legs for a shot of thick, creamy cum dripping out of that hairy pussy and running down to her asshole. The stud had obviously pumped a massive load. Then the picture suddenly shifted to me on the side of the pool preparing to belly flop into the water.
Shit! What the hell was this? It surely was not professional porn, because the lighting and shaky camera views were clearly amateur. It was a "quickie" in every sense of the word, because Catherine had no orgasm, it only lasted a few minutes, and the stud simply pumped his load and quit. Neither of them said one word. What the hell was it?
I needed to get Walter's camcorder back on that table before he missed it. I went out on my balcony and saw everyone in the same places they were when I left. I headed back down to poolside and casually replaced Walter's camcorder on the table. Then I mixed another drink and sat down. If anyone noticed my absence they probably thought I went upstairs to take a crap.
That night I watched the video several times. There was no personal interaction between the stud and Catherine -- he just fucked her. There was only minimal response from Catherine -- she looked like she was drunk and just laid there and serviced that big dick. There was no conversation at all. What the hell was it? Not sex for money -- even with that there would have been more interaction.
I was curious enough to pursue this, but how? Without being able to explain why, I decided the best place to start was Catherine. I took the next afternoon off and carrying my computer I rang Catherine's doorbell. Fortunately she was at home.
"Hi Dan, what's up?" Catherine said when she opened the door.
"Got a few minutes?" I asked.
"Sure, come on in," she said. "Would you like something to drink?"
"No thank you. I have something to show you," I said putting my MacBook on the coffee table.
She joined me on the couch. I opened the lid and punched up the video. The first scene of her starkers walking across the room began to play.
"Oh my God!" Catherine exclaimed loudly. "Where did you get that?"
I proceeded to explain what happened Sunday. She listened quietly and then started to cry softly, tears running down her cheeks.
"It's so terrible no one would believe it," Catherine began. "It's a long, ugly story. Billy and I got married during our senior year in college at NYU. It started right after that."
