I always got the feeling that my wife knew about my fetish.

We’d never discussed this turn-on of mine, the desire I’ve nurtured to watch her with another man. But she has always had this way of teasing me, of playing with me, that made me think she understood.

After what happened this weekend, I’ll never have doubts again.

Chelsea knows my schedule inside and out. So she knew I’d be home around nine o’clock from a night of basketball at the gym. Yet when I walked into our apartment, I couldn’t find her at first. Not in the living room. Not in the kitchen. Often on nights like these, I’ll find her waiting for me. Not on this night. I was about to call out to her when I heard noises. Not scary movie noises, but sounds that were of a sultrier variety. Sounds that were sex noises. Sighs. Moans.

Was that Chelsea?

My heart raced as it never had before. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Was Chelsea with someone? We hadn’t discussed this. How did I feel? Excited, I’ll tell you that, but nervous, too. Was she really doing it with someone else? I walked softly toward our bedroom. The door was open slightly, a crack, but a crack was all I needed.

The sounds were louder here. Not mere moans, but cries.

I pressed my face to the open space, and there I saw Chelsea watching the dirtiest, filthiest movie I could imagine. Yes, I watch my share of porn, but this was different. Chelsea was naked and watching a BDSM movie on the computer, and she was stroking her pussy the whole time.

I didn’t know what to do at first. Should I barge in and ask her what she was doing? It was obvious, wasn’t it? She was masturbating to an X-rated movie! Then I thought a little harder — hard being the key word of the moment — and I realized that she had to know I was there, that this whole thing had been a setup for me. I’m always home at the same time. So she’d taken off her clothes, set the door the way it was, and…

A sound — a different sound — made me start. Holy fuck, she had turned on a vibrator, one I’d never seen before. The toy was bigger, thicker and longer than any of the others she owned. I watched, spellbound, as Chelsea started to suck on the toy. Her fingers were working her slippery pussy and her mouth was going to town on that fake cock.

“I stealthily watched as she brought herself to one orgasm, then another.”

My very real cock twitched against my fly. I unbuttoned and unzipped, then pulled out my manhood. Chelsea seemed to have gotten her toy to the wetness she desired. She lifted herself up in the chair and then impaled herself on the behemoth. I would have moaned if she hadn’t made the noise for me. She started to grind on that thick dick, working it in and out of her splayed split while her eyes remained focused on the action on the screen.

That’s when I paid a little attention to the plot. In the movie, it looked like a woman was cuffed to a bed while one man fucked her and another man watched her getting fucked. Was this another sign? Was she letting me know with her selection that she wanted this, too? Was this her fantasy?

I decided to ask her. But not yet.

First, I stealthily watched as she brought herself to one orgasm, then another. I watched her taking in the video, sighing when the actress sighed, moaning when the actress moaned.

It was only after I shot off in the palm of my hand that she turned and met my eyes.

Would she let me watch her again in the future?

I couldn’t wait to find out.

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