PEOPLE'S CUCKOLD CLIPS
Let me begin by describing my wife of seven years, Lisa. She is a year younger than me at 31. She is 5’3” and weighs around 100 lbs. She has long, straight dark brown hair, full lips, and fine-looking, shapely legs. Her eyes are brown and her complexion fair. She is half Asian, half Portuguese. She has a dancer’s belly: flat as a board, rising up to meet perky, medium-sized breasts. She is, by any standard, a beautiful woman, and I have been told many times that I am lucky to have her.
Six years ago, when Lisa first made it known to me that she wanted to work, I had said no. My paycheck was enough. We had purchased a modest little flat in an excellent neighborhood of the city in which we live and were, in many ways, happy. But Lisa can be very persuasive, when she wants to. And so, after many months of gentle prodding, I relented. I told her she could file a few job applications if she really wanted to.
Her first job interview was at a large and successful firm not far from where we live. When I came home later that day she told me she was hired. She began work the following week as a junior executive. As the months passed and I got used to her working, I began to notice gradual changes in the way she dressed.
When I first met my wife she was very conservative, almost shy, even. She did not drink, never wore make-up, short skirts, or high heels. But around two months into her job, I observed that she was buying shorter and shorter skirts and shorts. She also took to wearing shoes with very high heels. I liked the change. As I have mentioned, she is a very attractive woman with knock-out legs and a ravishing body to boot.
What really turned me on, though, was that she seemed to enjoy the attention that the short skirts, the shorts, and the high heels got her -- especially from men. We were fucking like rabbits at the time and even that had changed. She was more uninhibited, more confident, and more anxious to learn what gave me pleasure. I was, of course, not at all displeased by all this.
By her seventh month on the job, however, our life together had undergone an almost complete transformation. She often came home late. When I tried to reach her on her mobile telephone, there was usually no answer. She’d come home at the crack of dawn, apologize, and go straight to bed. On occasion, she would go out-of-town on conferences and training seminars and not come back for days.
Looking back on it now, I realize that I had suspected her of infidelity. Yet I was not sure and every time I insinuated any impropriety on her part, she looked at me as though my suspicions were completely unfounded – if not insane.
In any case, one night I had to work late to meet a deadline. I told the office I would do everything at home and e-mail them what they needed the following day. I went home at around dinner time, expecting Lisa to be there. She wasn’t. So I decided to get to work on my project immediately.
The hard drive on my old PC had conked out three days prior and, while the repair shop had called to tell me it was already fixed, I had not had the time to swing by to get it. So I went into the bedroom to work on Lisa’s laptop. I knew she wouldn’t appreciate that, but it was an emergency.
I finished what I had to do on Lisa’s PC at around 1 o’clock in the morning and realized she was still not home. I had received no calls from her. No text messages. No nothing. I began to worry.
I called her mobile phone repeatedly. No answer. I told myself she was probably hard at work on something. I was tired after a full day’s work. I decided to hit the sack. She would wake me to apologize when she got home.
I was about to shut Lisa’s laptop down when I was struck by a strong impulse to snoop around her files a bit. She wouldn’t know, I told myself. So, one by one, I began to open the folders on the desktop of her computer. After about 20 minutes of doing this, I became bored. But then I eventually clicked on a folder and found it was password protected. My mind raced. What was it that was so secret that she would protect it with a password?
I couldn’t fight the urge to find out so I tried a number of possibilities. My name, the date of our anniversary, her name and the year she was born, among others. Nothing worked.
What happened next came as a complete surprise -- even to me. Lisa had once before mentioned that she liked everybody at the place where she worked except her boss, who always gave her a hard time. I remembered that she had said that his name is Christopher. I typed the name down. The folder popped open.
There were a number of sub-folders inside. They were arranged haphazardly: some by date, some by place name. I opened one and found it was filled with pictures and video clips. My throat went dry and my hands started to tremble. I clicked on a photo icon and, as I did, felt like a man who had just taken a deadly step into a headlong fall.
There was Lisa, the whole magnificent length of her smooth white body stretched out on a bed I did not recognize, wearing nothing but her tiny black lace panties and her favorite black stilettos. Her breasts were fully exposed and the belly button stud she had recently acquired shone in the light of the flashbulb. There was a look of devilish, contented pleasure on her face – a look I had never seen on her before. It was as if I was looking at a woman I did not know.
I remembered she had bought a few pieces of slutty lingerie recently. When I asked why she said, “I just want to look good in bed for you.” She did wear them in bed for me from time to time, but I knew now that she had not, in fact, purchased the sexy undergarments exclusively for me.
There were a dozen or so more photos in the folder but I could not bring myself to look at any more of them. I did not even think of looking at the videos. She was fucking around and I knew it.
I lost my temper. The surge of anger in me was terrific. I quickly retrieved one of my flash drive devices and copied all of the files, fully intent on exposing her for the whore that she really is.
When I had done saving the files into my USB flash drive, I hid it in my desk drawer, locked it, pulled on a pair of pants, got the car keys and went downstairs. My plan was simple: I would drive out to Lisa’s office to confront the two adulterous lovers.
The drive to my wife’s office building was short. As it was way past midnight, there was very little traffic. I parked my car in the wide, open-air parking lot across the street from her office building.
I was breathing heavily as I crossed the street. The persistent and nagging thought of my wife with another man made my anger rise to a point where my fists were clenched tightly inside the pockets of my windbreaker.
I had been to Lisa’s place of work before so I knew exactly where to go. I entered the building, took the elevator to the 14th floor, got off, and walked calmly into the lobby of Lisa’s office. As it was already around 2:30am, there was no receptionist out front, only the night watchman. I told him to go get Lisa. While I was not sure, I spoke as though I knew actually knew she was there. “Tell her husband wants a word with her,” I said.
As the night watchman disappeared into the offices at the back I took a seat on one of the sofas arranged in a corner of the lobby. After a few moments, the night watchman returned and said politely, “Your wife will be out in a while, sir.”
I waited about 20 minutes, becoming more and more impatient with every tick of the clock that hung above the office lobby. Then, keeping my anger and impatience in check, I asked the night watchman if he would mind getting me a cup of coffee. He said sure and went back inside.
I knew he would be getting coffee from the machine in the pantry off to the right of the entrance to the offices. (Like I said, I had been to Lisa’s office before.) I knew, too, that once the night watchman was inside the pantry, I could easily slip into the office without being seen.
So as soon as I was sure he was in the pantry, I got up, walked inside, and made my way to Lisa’s office in the executive area past the desks of the clerks and secretaries. I got to the door of Lisa’s office and was about to grab the doorknob and walk in when I heard a voice further down the hall.
It was a male voice, and it sounded as through he were giving someone a dressing down. I paid no further attention to it at the time and proceeded into Lisa’s office without knocking. To my surprise, it was empty. The lights were on, and I saw Lisa’s handbag on the desk, so I knew she was still around.
I waited a bit, then stepped out of my wife’s office and looked at the door down the hallway. By now I knew the night watchman had come back out front to find that I had gone. He would have assumed -- I hoped at the time -- I had left without bothering to wait for my wife, or the coffee I had asked him to get for me.
I noticed that I could hear no more voices from the other door. I walked quietly toward it and, as I got to it, I heard voices coming from the other side again. This time I could definitely tell that my wife was inside the room. I could hear her voice but I could not make out what she was saying.
There was another silence then I heard Lisa moan and sigh. My heart sank. I stood there for a while, bracing myself against the pain and the shock of it and, with a trembling hand, reached for the doorknob and slowly twisted it open. It was unlocked. I pushed the door open a crack and peered inside.
Lisa and a man I had correctly assumed was her was boss, Christopher, were standing a little off to the left of the room, in front of a big desk. They were kissing. Christopher had his hands on Lisa’s buttocks, gripping her butt cheeks through her short grey skirt. I noticed that Lisa’s black blouse was already undone. Christopher looked huge against my wife’s petite frame. His hair was cropped short. From what I could see, he was clean-shaven. His shirt was also open.
After a moment of kissing and groping, Christopher lifted her skirt, slipped his hands into Lisa’s black panties, and began caressing her pussy and buttocks while they kissed. I heard Lisa moan and sigh in delight. She arched her head back so Christopher could put his mouth and tongue on her neck. As he did, I saw her wrap a leg around Christopher’s leg and put her hand inside the front of his pants.
I looked away. I do not know why, but I felt guilty for being there: as if I were watching something I should not be watching. I wanted to walk away. All my anger was suddenly gone. I felt ashamed. I was about to leave when I heard Christopher order Lisa to get on her knees. The gruff tone he took with my wife alarmed me. I peered into the crack again just in time to see Lisa kneel down to unbuckle his pants.
My heart was pounding. I was heartbroken and murderously angry but, at the same time, I was excited. I watched Lisa take Christopher’s cock out of his pants, gripping the shaft with both her small hands. I could see that his member was only a bit bigger than mine, but she seemed actually to worship it.
“You want that, don’t you?” Christopher said. I could not see Lisa’s face, but I heard her answer pleadingly: “Yes, I do. I want you in my mouth, please.”
“All right, suck on it now,” Christopher barked. Again I was shocked. I had known my wife long enough to understand that she did not like being ordered around. But she took Christopher’s cock greedily into her mouth and moaned in obvious delight.
I could not see Lisa’s face but I could tell she was taking in a good amount of his length. He grabbed her hair with both hands and began to push her head to meet the timing of his thrusts. Lisa’s moans grew louder and louder as the thrusts became more and more savage. I saw her reach down and play with her clit, rubbing her fingers vigorously through her panties as she sucked at Christopher’s cock.
This went on for a few minutes, with Lisa getting more and more excited, milking Christopher’s cock and moaning in sheer pleasure. Every now and then, she would pull herself away, look up teasingly, then come back to lick his shaft and flick her tongue on his balls. I could hear her slurp and drool all over him down there.
Then Christopher said, “That’s enough. Get up.” Lisa obeyed, rising up to kiss Christopher passionately in the mouth. I could tell she was really turned on. Her pussy was so wet that the juices from it glistened in the soft light.
Then I saw Christopher take her roughly by the arm and lead her around the desk. He stood her up in front him, pulled open a drawer and pulled out a condom. He took my wife by the shoulders and turned her around, still with the same alarming roughness. Lisa was now facing the door with the desk in front of her.
I looked back at the dimly lit office down the hall. I wanted to walk away, but I was drawn to the scene playing out not more than ten feet away from where I stood behind the door.
When I looked through the slight opening of the door again I saw Lisa was leaned over the desk. Her bra was undone so that her pink and hardened nipples were touching the desktop. Her legs were wide apart. Her arms were spread out among the papers on the desk and her panties were pulled down just low enough to reveal her pussy. On her face was that fascinating look I had seen earlier in the photographs on her computer. She was so radiant and flushed with excitement her skin seemed to glow.
Christopher was standing behind her, his cock now wrapped in the condom. He had dropped his pants to his ankles. He reached forward, grabbed Lisa by the hair violently, and began to rub the head of his cock against the outside of Lisa’s pussy while his other hand fingered her roughly. Lisa gasped and moaned loudly. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please. Make me cum, please,” she begged.
I stepped away from the door. I could not understand what it was I feeling. I was hurt and angry, but also very much aroused. I was rock hard. I looked at the bulge in my pants, then down the hall, suddenly afraid the night watchman would spot me while on his rounds. I did not want to be caught. But I could not resist the urge to watch some more. Again, the sound of Lisa’s moaning drew me back to the door.
When my eyes again returned to the couple inside, I could tell that Christopher had already driven his cock all the way into Lisa’s pussy. He began to fuck her hard. Lisa gasped in ecstasy and her eyes rolled toward the ceiling as she pushed against Christopher’s cock. Then she reached back, gripped her partner by the butt cheek, and pulled him deeper into her, moaning as she did. “Fuck me harder, deeper!” she pleaded.
I stood there watching in awe of Lisa’s lust for this man. I could not remember ever seeing her this way when we made love. I was deeply hurt, but I could no longer deny my own excitement as I watched the rhythm of their fucking intensify. “You like that?” Christopher would ask. “Yes, oh yes!” Lisa would gasp, frantic with pleasure. “Then beg for it, you little slut,” Christopher would command her. Lisa would comply, begging and pleading to be fucked. “I’m your slut. Fuck me like a slut. Fuck me like I’m your slut, please,” she purred. Lisa’s body shuddered and she began to thrash around violently.
As she reached orgasm, she begged Christopher to fuck her harder and faster. He yanked her hair violently back. She let out a yelp of delicious pleasure. He was pounding her hard and fast in no time and I could tell she loved it. At one point, her moans and begging became so loud I was afraid it would bring the night watchman over. They fucked furiously for what must have been around 10 minutes. Lisa came again and again during that time, her body going into breathless spasms with each climax.
When it was Christopher’s turn to cum, he pulled out, whipped off the condom and threw it aside. Quickly -- and at the same time -- Lisa spun around and fell to her knees, presenting her tits to his cock. She was gasping and everything she did she seemed to do with desperate ecstasy. I saw her tongue flick in and out of her mouth as she caressed her nipples and her clit for him to see.
Christopher breathed heavily as he jerked off to the spectacle of my wife pleasuring herself. He came in three explosive spurts, splattering his juices on her soft tits, her neck, and her face. Lisa moaned in delight and rubbed the hot spunk all over her body. “Good for the skin, right?” she said, her voice throaty, relaxed and devilishly seductive. When he was done with her, she slid down and lay on her back in the carpet, panting with exhaustion.
Christopher looked dazed as he pulled his underwear and pants up. He dropped to his knees and laid himself down beside my wife. They were still laying there, breathing heavily, exchanging whispers and giggling, when I quietly left. I walked out across the dimly lit outer office and into the lobby. I walked past the night watchman, who was asleep and snoring in his swivel chair behind the front desk.
I tried, but I could not go home. I drove around the city for a while. I was no longer sad. I felt nothing but lust and arousal. I wanted Lisa. I wanted to fuck her like crazy. But, to my horror, I realized that I also wanted her to go on fucking her boss. I knew, without a doubt, that I still loved my wife, but I was no longer sure she loved me. The pain was enormous but, strangely enough, I wanted Lisa badly, and in a way that I had never wanted her before.
It was daybreak when I finally came home. Lisa was waiting there for me, her hair still wet from a shower. She was out sitting on one of the chairs in the balcony, drinking coffee. She smiled and motioned me over. I went into the kitchen to fetch myself a beer, and then I went out to join her in the cool of the early morning.
“Hey, I heard you dropped by the office last night,” she said cheerfully. I said I did. She must have seen something in the expression on my face as her smile was quickly replaced by a look of dread.
“Is anything wrong,” she asked, putting a palm on my knee. “I saw it all,” I said. “I saw you and your boss.” Lisa’s jaw dropped. For a moment, she looked completely startled. Then she averted my gaze and looked down. “Are you leaving me?” she asked. “Is that what you want?” I asked. “No,” she said. “I love you. I can’t imagine my life without you.” I sat down on a chair beside her and told her I wanted to know the whole truth.
My wife said she and Christopher had been fucking for three months now. She said that although she found him very attractive from the start, she had refused his initial advances. When he began to turn his attention to the other girls in the office, however, she got jealous. “That was when I started wearing mini-skirts and all,” she said quietly.
She said the next time Christopher made a pass at her, she gave in fast. They had gone on weekend vacations together, she confessed. “He made me do things,” she revealed.
“Should I give this guy a lesson?” I asked. No, she answered. “To be honest,” she said, “I like it. I like his cock. I like the way he fucks me. Please try to understand.” I of course asked for details. But what she told me, and all the adventures we embarked on over the course of the next few years, is another story.
Suffice it to say that we are still together and we are still happy. We love each other. We have vicious arguments, true, but our friendship and our life together is strong.
Maybe, if I am lucky enough, we will grow old together and laugh about all of this in our sunset rocking chairs.
Attached is one of the photos I found in Lisa’s laptop that night when I first found out. I chose one of poor quality, having been taken through a cellphone camera. This I did to obscure any details that may lead to the real identity of the people involved.