As I finally drifted back into consciousness, my muscles still aching from the pleasure that had soared through my body, and a Cheshire cat smile still imprinted on my face, it took a little while to register where I was. I pulled a blanket tightly around me as I snuggled up on the comfortable sofa, the grin not leaving my face for a moment. And then suddenly a thought, "Why am I on the sofa?"
I opened my drowsy eyes, and looked across the room to where I thought I would be waking up. To the chair in front of the computer, to the computer screen where I had been watched giving myself so much pleasure. Everything was hazy still, I couldn't quite grasp the scene in front of me. Was there a shadow of someone else sitting where I had been. Was this some sort of out-of-body experience. I smiled to myself at this thought, I would have loved to have been able to step outside myself and witness the show I had delivered. And again I drifted into sweet recline.
Some time later, I again came around. I was aware of a need to get up and go to the toilet, but my muscles still were not ready to let me move. I again peered up across the room to where the PC sat. The shadow of a person was still there, and I could hear the tapping of keys now. The mist slowly started to rise ahead of me, and finally I could make it out. It was my husband Paul.
He had returned, presumably to find me still covered in my own juices, still spread-eagled and on display to the chat room via the webcam, even in my comatose state. He must have picked me up and carried me to the sofa, and covered me with that blanket, checking I was okay as I knew he always would, before returning to the computer to see what mischief had befallen me.
I wanted to get up. To rush over and stop him. What if he saw what I had written. The sordid fantasies I had shared, the way I had ridiculed his tiny penis to a room fool of strangers. What if he was chatting with them, hearing about the obscenities I had uttered, the intimate scenes I had allowed to be beamed across the web. But still I could not move. I lifted my head slightly, and saw him look over, although I couldn't read the signals in his face. I felt a warmth between my legs, as my bladder would allow me to hold back no longer, and it brought back memories of the warm juices that had earlier been shooting from my cunt like a fountain, and again I dozed off.
I woke again, the room in complete darkness except for the partially blocked out computer monitor across the room. I was sticky and damp, and my muscles still ached, but slowly I was able to swing myself round to a seated position. Paul didn't move. He continued tapping away on the keyboard. I stumbled to my feet, feeling a little dizzy at first, but that soon passed, wrapped the blanket around me, and began to walk slowly over to where Paul sat.
This was the first time the shame and humiliation of being caught this way began to hit me. How could I ever make up for this? I was the good wife. His loving, understanding and respectable wife. Now I had been caught indulging fantasies I should never have had, and ridiculing him publically for not being man enough to fulfil them himself. Should I put my arms around him and say I'm sorry? Would that make any difference? If the roles were reversed would I forgive him? More and more questions flowed into my head as I continued to tiptoe over to where he sat.
I stopped a few paces from him, surveying what was happening on the screen. He was in what appeared to be a private message window with hugecockbull, the man who had encouraged my disgusting performance and beamed it to the rest of the chat room. The man who had encouraged me to get the webcam in the first place, who knew almost all my dirty little desires, what I thought about when I masturbated, how I wanted to be devoured by a sea of cocks.
Before I could make out what they were talking about, Paul closed down the chat window and turned to look at me. I felt dirty and disgusting, my eyes fell towards the floor.
"Hey angel" he said softly as he reached out and tilted my chin back up so he could see me face, "I'm not angry with you."
Tears began to well in my eyes. I was dreading what he might say next. Maybe he'd say he was disappointed with me, maybe that would be worse than anger.
"Shhh now, come on" he said, pulling the blanket around us both and hugging me tightly.
"It's okay angel. Everything's going to be okay."
He carried me gently up the stairs to the bathroom, where he gently began to sponge my naked body, cleansing me from the disgusting acts I had committed. All the time, he kept repeating it, "you are safe with me angel, I will never leave you".
After drying my down with a towel, he again carried me lovingly to the marital bed and laid me down naked on top of the covers. A breeze from an open window brushing lightly across my hardened nipples.
He too was naked now, and he pulled up close to me, kissing my neck, still telling me how much he loved me, and how he would do anything to keep his angel happy. His cock pressed against the opening to my cunt, and I allowed him inside me as far as he could manage. He began to push harder I could tell, but as usual I could not feel anything. I began the usual ritual of faked moans, intending to go the extra mile this time for how understanding he was being.
