My wife and I married right out of university, and got a small apartment just outside Culver City, right by Los Angeles.
With debts and loans to pay off, my wife felt frustrated that she couldn't help me, since she didn't have a job yet. She took a couple of local modeling jobs, catalog stuff, but really wanted to use her dance education, so she started going to casting calls for movies and commercials. She got a bit if work as an extra, but still nothing really great.
One morning a friend called, and told her about several auditions, including one for a music video that needed a dancer. Jennifer looked pretty hopeful about this one, and I drove her to the industrial park where they had their production offices, and arranged to come back and pick her up when she called to say she was done her audition.
After an hour or so, I'd finished my own errands and decided to drop back by the audition anyway.
The front office, where a pleasant blond receptionist had met her, was closed, the glass doors securely locked. I waited out front for a few minutes, then got bored, and walked around looking for another way in. Sure enough, a door around back was held open with a box of some electrical wiring, and I headed inside, looking to see where the audition was.
The backrooms were dark but I headed towards a larger room that was dimly lit at one end, with a few guys in jeans and scruffy t-shirts standing around. I walked through the door behind them, intending to ask my way, when I suddenly could see what they were watching.
I saw my wife, in her tight one piece danskin, lying back on a leather chair, her knees pulled up almost to her ears, as a big black guy very slowly fed his cock through a hole torn in her leotards, deep, deep into her pussy.
I stood without thought, completely, totally stunned by what I saw. I could never have imagined it, and as I gaped, one of the guys next to me motioned for me to be quiet with a smile, clearly mistaking me for just another grunt worker pausing to check out the show.
Quiet I was, staring dumbstruck, as he slid his huge cock slowly into, then almost completely out of my wife's pussy, as she made little quivering sounds and moans. He moved insanely slow, a smooth, deliberate penetration of what had up until now been only my domain. My wife's closed eyes said it all; I knew her too well not to know she was riding some erotic high, blissed out on the cock inside her, and, as I was absolutely certain from her quiet sounds, post-orgasmic.
What had I missed? I didn't dare to interfere; the workers- grips and gaffers I guess - plus another man would seemed to have all the authority of a director watched quietly as this man, who could only be a porn star, fucked my wife.
As I watched, he pulled his cock out of her, and shifted her onto her side. I remember how her breasts jostled, her nipples jutting out through the thin fabric, and I stepped backwards, reeling really, as he lifted her leg and slid his cock easily into my wife. He began to fuck her more rapidly, and my face burned as she cried out softly in response to his movements.
I could take no more.
I somehow made it back to my car, sick, and confused by what I had just seen. My god, we were barely married, why was she cheating? And even more alarming, why was I feeling all these emotions, from anger and hurt to out and out lust?
My head pounded, yet my cock surged in response to what I had seen. Watching my wife fucking had been arousing beyond belief. Just seeing and hearing her pretty body respond to a potent male cock seemed unbelievably primal, and hopelessly wicked.
And she'd cum, I knew, and I felt a stab of pain and doubt, realizing that my wife had cum while another man fucked here, and was even now probably feeling him cum in her pussy. "Or maybe on her face," I thought, "like a porno." I felt a second jab of jealousy and lust, wishing I'd stay to see what else would happen.
I sat in the car and waited, until she called a half hour later and came out.
I said nothing about what I'd seen, and listened in torment as she told me she'd got the part, and that they'd be shooting the video tomorrow.
I brooded all evening, frankly, and finally took her to bed feeling cranky and aggressive. She kissed me back, playful, but she didn't fuck me back with the same intensity she always had, and as I fucked my pretty wife, silent but compliant under me, I thought of the sexy sounds she had moaned with that huge cock inside her that afternoon, and my poor penis failed, my erection faltering, unable to cum.
I rolled off her and tried to sleep, listening to her soft breathing long into the night.
The next day, I took her to the studio, dropped her off, and pretended to head off to work. I'd taken the day off, however, and just drove around for at least an hour, tortured, wondering why she hadn't told me the truth, and wondering what she was doing now.
I found myself outside the studio; so I parked, and slipped around back again.
The door was closed now, but fortunately not locked, so I eased inside, my heart pounding. I headed toward the same room, but there were differences this time. One end glowed with brilliant light, and an easy dozen men seemed to be involved in the production in some way, at least in observing it. The leather chair was gone, replaced by a sofa.
