Alana's Sex Toys

Part 1: Alana's Sex Toys. I find my wife's sex toys and watch her pleasure herself.

Part 2: Alana's Extramarital Affair. I find out my wife cheats on me.

Part 3: Alana's Planned Gangbang. I find out my wife planned a gangbang.

Chapter 1

Our house was close enough to our neighbor's house that I thought nothing of the unknown Bluetooth device that showed up one day. Simply called D417, the name only stuck in my mind because April 17 was my brother's birthday. I certainly wasn't in any mood to solve the mystery - the seconds were ticking by, and I only had a few minutes left to jerk off.

Don't get me wrong, I love my wife. And even after 10 years of marriage and 3 kids, I still love burying my cock in my wife's pussy and unloading inside of her. But sometimes, jerking off is just so much easier. And don't assume she's ugly, my wife is super hot. Her mom is half black and half white, and her dad is half Peruvian, one quarter Japanese, and one quarter white, so she's... well, whatever, and sometimes I feel like she got the best of every race in her mix. She just has these beautiful brown eyes that transcend race and brown hair that comes down to her 34C tits and tickle her nipples.

If I were to be totally honest, though, sometimes... I just wanted a bleached-blonde, fake-tittied, dick-sucking robot to masturbate to. And today was one of those times.

Alone time in the house was a premium - as a West Coaster working with an East Coast financial firm, I went to work at 5 am and was usually out in the early afternoon. Alana worked from home Mondays through Thursdays, and in the office on Fridays. Today being Friday, I had 30 minutes of the whole house to myself before I had to pick up the kids. I got out the lube from Alana's nightstand, hooked up my phone to the bedroom TV, and loaded up a video of some 18-year-old white girl getting pounded by 4 giant black cocks before taking their loads all over her tits. It was glorious, and I unleashed a monster load. Several strands missed the tissue, and ended up on the bedsheets, so I had to wipe it up.

Afterwards, the bed still smelled like cum, so I went looking under the sink in the bathroom to see if I could find something to cover up the smell. Some of the sprays were potpourri, and some were chemical-y, which would have attracted unwanted attention. I figured if I put just a little potpourri on the blanket and covered up the stain, it'd be just enough to cover the smell without giving away that it was intentionally put there. I picked a box at random, a big green box with a black label. If I had thought about it, the box was too big to be a bottle of air freshener, but I had been jerking off, and not really in my right mind.

Instead, I found a dildo.

It was beige, veiny, and a little larger than my decidedly-average, 5-inch cock, but nothing crazy. I'm not a prude, but I was a little shocked. A few years ago when we were in a rut between our first two kids, I even offered to go with her to the adult store and pick out some sex toys together, and she rebuffed me. Now I find out my wife has a secret dildo?

I didn't have much time to wax philosophical. My alone time up, I stuffed everything back into the box, threw our comforter over the cum spots, and went to pick up the kids.

Later that night, I was going to say something to her about the dildo, but Alana found the cum spot while I was tucking the kids in. I saw her sniffing the sheets, and frowning. Deciding it wasn't a good day to start a fight, I kept my mouth shut, and she did too. We binge-watched some Victorian-era teen drama that night and didn't fool around.

Chapter 2

The next night, after we put the kids to sleep, we tiptoed into our room for our usual Saturday night sex. I could tell Alana was close as I pistoned my rock-hard dick inside of her. We hadn't had a simultaneous orgasm in quite some time, and I thought that night might be one of those nights. Trying to hold out as best as I could, I tried to list all the states in alphabetical order. Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, I recalled, from the week before. Next were the B's. I didn't get to finish the thought, because Alana came. Or, at least, she sounded like she came. She gasped and screamed; she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me tight. But, I don't think she actually came. I think she faked it.

I don't understand why she'd fake it. She did, a few times early in our relationship, but we had a big talk/discussion/fight about it, and we both agreed that it wasn't exactly good for the long-term health of our relationship. She didn't always come when we had sex, but sometimes I didn't either. Admittedly, it was her that needed the "extra help" the most. I won't lie and say I'm the world's best at oral, but I'm good enough that I get the job done the vast majority of the time, and she doesn't need to fake it.

Or, at least, I thought she didn't.

In the moment, though, I could definitely tell she was using different muscles to squeeze me. They were voluntary, deliberate squeezes, using the Kegel exercises that she did religiously after each of our kids was born. It felt incredible, and I was definitely going to cum, but I could feel the difference. A few seconds later, I rammed my cock inside of her, burying it as far as it would go, and unloaded inside of her.

Alana cooed appreciatively, and we giggled gently to one another. We engaged in a little pillow talk about how that felt great, etc. I opened the door to an admission that she had faked it, by asking if she wanted "another" orgasm, licking her lips suggestively, but she giggled and said that "one was enough." I was pretty shocked at the flat-out lie, but also found myself questioning whether I was the one who misinterpreted her actions. After 10 years, though I'm 99% sure I can tell when my wife has a real orgasm.

After I stared to doze off, Alana went to take a bath. This wasn't unusual, but I noticed two things that I hadn't noticed before. Maybe this was the first time they had changed, or maybe she had changed her habits without me noticing. Either way, though, I first noticed that she took her phone with her into the bath. She used to joke about being more worried about dropping her phone into the bath and electrocuting herself than she was about ruining her phone. As a result, she used to put her phone on the charger before she went into the bathroom. The second thing I noticed was that she locked the door. She definitely used to keep it unlocked - I would go in and wiggle my dick at her in the bath when I had to pee.

Although the running water and its echo in the bathroom made it incredibly hard to hear, I couldn't help but stoke my curiosity a bit. I still held my ear to the door to try to discern what she was doing in there. I don't know if it even helped, but I closed my eyes to fully focus on the sound. I could hear the water, rushing out of the faucet, and the splashing of the water in the tub. I could even hear some of the errant drops of water splash out of the tub and onto the bathroom tiles.

However, I also heard the unmistakable sound of my wife quietly moaning. And schlick, schlick, schlick - the familiar sound of something plunging into her pussy, and her sticky lubrication grasping at the object as it left. Suddenly, the dildo under the sink made sense. I couldn't decide whether I was proud of myself for figuring it out, or angry that she turned oral just to masturbate by herself, or disappointed that she couldn't just tell me what she wanted. Her panting became more and more ragged.

To my surprise, my dick was hard again. Rock hard, despite having just been emptied not more than 10 minutes ago. I reached down and began stroking myself to a second pop. My shaft was not quite dry, and still a little sticky, and I had to let a small stream of drool down to rehydrate all the dried juices on my cock. Alana suddenly went quiet, and I knew she was on the cusp of a mind-shattering orgasm. I grabbed a tissue from the dresser and squeezed out a second load into the tissue at the same time I knew my wife's cunt was spasming around a silicone cock. Her squealing was muffled, as if she were pressing her face into a towel.

I was looking around for an appropriate place to throw my cum recepticle, when I heard her whisper something. It was very difficult to make out, both because she was trying to hide it, but also because my full attention wasn't on listening.

But, it sounded an awful lot like, "Thanks for watching, boys."

Chapter 3

The next Monday, I woke up with a raging erection, and it was only 4:30, so we had time. Well, more precisely, I had time. I slithered in to spooning distance of Alana and gave her a kiss on the neck to see if she was awake yet. She was not. I had a backup, though - I tried to weave a hand between her arm and her breast without waking her up. Unfortunately, I went 0 for 2 on that front, ending up with neither a handful of titty nor a blissful wife.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"I'm just snuggling," I countered, playfully.

"Bullshit," she jabbed. "Come on, I'm tired, we just did it last night."

"But me still horny," I pleaded in my best baby voice.

"UGH!" she relented. "FINE. Just let me snooze for 15 minutes, you can rub it against me until you get close, and then I'll give you a quick BJ. I have to go into the office today so I can't take a midday nap."

"Okay, okay," I pleaded, defensively. I wish I had the fortitude to say that the bitchy attitude turned me off, that her open disdain for me didn't make me harder - but I'd be lying. I snuggled up next to her, one arm wrapped around her while the other tugged my dick to full erection. Alana didn't even part her legs even the slightest bit for me, so I settled for rubbing it up and down her thighs.

After a few minutes of dragging my dry cock across her skin, I tried to push it a little closer to her pussy. Still annoyed, Alana nevertheless made some small gesture by allowing the shaft of my cock to slide between her thighs, and she absentmindly reached down and played with the tip that poked through. She gave excellent handjobs. When we were dating, she used to reach under the table in restaurants or under the blanket when we were watching movies, and get me to cum just by dragging her fingertips across my cock head and flicking my frenulum.

She pressed her fingertips together and slowly opened her fingers as I pushed into it. The feeling was amazing, and I began straight up fucking her thighs, feeling her warm skin around the shaft while her fingertips pleasured the head.

"Oh... God... that feels so good," I whispered hoarsely. Alana responded with more pressure with her fingers and thighs, making it feel like I was fucking a super tight hole. "I'm going to cum."

Alana twisted back to face me. "Don't do it on the sheets," she said, "I just did laundry."

I scrambled to a kneeling position on the bed, using my thumb and forefinger to aim my swollen cock into her mouth. Alana reached up and gripped my cock with one hand, wrapping her soft lips around the head and pursing her lips as I pushed in, making it feel like another super tight pussy.

"Oh God, oh God," I panted. Alana just hummed with appreciation as she milked me, thick blobs of cum spurting into her mouth. Her mouth didn't stop milking until the spasming stopped.

Eventually, she let my still-hard dick fall out of her mouth, and she looked up at me with her big brown eyes, opening her mouth to show me the giant mouthful of cum. She knew this was one of my favorite parts - she made a big show of swallowing my load, all the while maintaining eye contact with me. Then, she gradually pulled my dick from base to tip, squeezing out one or two last drops of cum, licking them off the tip of my softening dick.

Alana gave me a quick kiss, and told me that she wanted to go back to sleep. I don't know why I did it, but when I was in the bathroom getting ready, I took the box with the dildo in it, and I aligned it with the other boxes in a very specific position, so I could see if it had been moved later.

All morning, I had a real hard time focusing at work. Alana's strange behavior had me suspicious, and I couldn't help but wonder what she was hiding from me. Despite having cum twice in the past 12 hours, I found myself with a raging erection for most of the day as I thought about my wife, pleasuring herself with a dildo.

By 10:30, I was ready for lunch, but my boss had a surprise for the office at a hastily-arranged all-hands meeting - the quarterly numbers had just come in, and our office had outperformed every other branch, including headquarters in New York. In return, she offered to take us all out to lunch, give us a gift card with $500 as a spot bonus, and give us the rest of the day off. It was a glorious moment, and I should have texted Alana right away to tell her the good news, but I didn't.

With an extra two hours of free time, and $500 in untraceable money, my thought wasn't about taking my family out to a nice dinner or surprising my wife with jewelry. It was to see what the fuck she was doing with those dildos. I swung by the electronics store, and purchased a deluxe home security system that I had been eyeing. Five tiny cameras on an encrypted, hidden network, and full HD video and audio. I raced home and planted cameras in the house - one in our bedroom, one in her office, one in the living room, one in the bathroom, and I kept one in reserve just so I could decide later.

I also checked the cabinet under the sink to see if the box with the dildo had moved - and not only had it moved, but it was gone entirely. Had Alana taken it to work?!

As I set up the hidden network, I had momentary second thoughts. Spying, even on a spouse, was a super toxic thing to do. And if Alana ever found the cameras, it would probably mean the implosion of our marriage, even if - or especially if - I didn't find anything incriminating.

But I pushed my morals aside and did it anyway.

Chapter 4

It didn't take long for the toxic, manipulative side of my personality to be proven right.

The next day, I kept the security app open on my phone as I worked, checking what felt like every 10 minutes but what was almost certainly closer to every minute. The first part of the day was incredibly prosaic - even after I got into work at 5:30, Alana and the kids were all still asleep. Around 6:30, she got up, went to the bathroom, and made breakfast and packed lunch for the kids. I didn't have a camera on the dining room, but I could hear them laughing and talking on the living room audio.

By 7:45, Alana was out the door for dropoff. All the video feeds were quiet for 45 minutes, exactly the right amount of time for her to drop off at two different schools, and then swing by Starbucks for her morning latte. Around 8:30, she arrived back at home, coffee in one hand, and phone in the other hand, slowly scrolling through her social media accounts. After disappearing off-camera into the kitchen and dining room area, she made little noise, and once again, I felt the pangs of guilt as I blatantly invaded my wife's privacy. Part of me wanted to call it off, switch off the app, and rip out the cameras at the next opportunity. But part of me was noting all the blind spots so that I could best figure out what to do with the leftover camera.

Alana reappeared in the bedroom, rummaging through the closet. This part didn't surprise me - I figured she was grabbing a pair of sweat pants and an old T-shirt, her usual work-from-home outfit. When she turned around, she hadn't selected anything of the sort - she had selected a lacy, purple bra and matching panties, neither of which I had ever seen before. She also had a garter belt with thigh-high purple stockings. I watched her change, slowly pulling on this dick-hardening outfit, and then putting on makeup, lipstick, and eyeliner.

Then, she... went to her office and opened her work laptop?!

I tried not to judge. Alana had told me that, on occasion, she liked to "dress up" while working from home, just to break the monotony. I had assumed she meant "put on a bra and a nice blouse" but I guess this is what she meant. She had clearly coordinated this outfit, and they appeared to be multiple purchases, all of which I assumed she had taken great care to hide form me. On top of all that, the outfit was completely inappropriate for work, so she'd have to change if she had any sort of teleconference or meeting.

Her screen didn't face the camera, so I couldn't see what she was doing. I made a mental note to perhaps move the office camera to the opposite side of the room. At first, I refreshed constantly, barely getting any of my own work done. But eventually, I calmed down, and settled in to checking in on her once every few minutes.

The next half an hour dragged by slowly. Even in her lacy bra, my wife typing away on her keyboard was not a thrilling show. And once again, I felt the pangs of guilt, and considered closing the app and stop violating her privacy. Had I not hesitated to do it, maybe my story would have turned out differently. Instead, I watched as Alana stood up, unplugged her computer, pick up her laptop, and bring it into the bedroom.

To my utter shock, in the bedroom, Alana worked with laser-focused precision, methodically removing any trace of me from view. Pictures of our family - moved to the far side of the room. My alarm clock - thrust under the bed. From the closet, Alana produced a set of faux candles, placing them on the nightstands. She also took out a small bag and placed it on the nightstand. Then, she brought out a ring light and an external webcam, which she plugged into the computer and carefully aimed at the headboard. Drawing the heavy curtains shut, our bedroom had been transformed into a webcam den in a matter of minutes.

I realized that I couldn't watch this shit at my desk, so I scurried over to the bathroom, occupying the most distant stall to avoid scrutiny as I watched my wife on secret camera. I plugged in my headphones, but there wasn't much to hear at first - Alana lay down on the bed, spread eagle, as she typed on her computer, set on the nightstand beside her. Periodically, her laptop dinged.

I realized that she wasn't just typing on the computer, she was chatting with someone, and they were watching her on the webcam. My wife of 10 years was dressed in lingerie, showing her barely-covered body to someone over the Internet. I was disgusted that I couldn't stop watching. As a matter of fact, my dick was rock hard, oozing precum and throbbing as it imagined the nasty, lewd things she was writing to someone - a stranger, a lover? - on her computer. It had been nearly twenty minutes since I had been in the bathroom, and around me, people had come and gone. But I couldn't leave until I knew what the conclusion was.

A few minutes later, Alana reached into the small bag, and pulled out some kind of vibrator. She still typed every once in a while, but most of the time, she was just touching herself, and moving the vibrator to different parts of her body. The dinging on the computer became more insistent, and after a triple ding, I heard the vibrator switch on. Only then did I realize that this wasn't just a one-way show - the vibrator was remote-controlled, and someone on the other end of that screen was watching as they pleasured her through the Internet. I couldn't see anything she was typing, and I made a mental note to try to find what site she was camming on so I could join in.

Alana didn't remove her panties, she just pushed the band to one side as she pressed the vibrating toy against her clit. A low moan escaped her lips as the electric tingle of pleasure echoed through her body. Every once in a while, she glanced at the screen, adjusting her legs and hips to make sure that the camera had an acceptable view of what was happening.