The Secret Life of a Loving Wife

Author's Intro: This story is mostly voyeurism with a heavy dose of lesbianism and other fun things. Stay patient at the beginning for a bit of character and plot development, and I hope you'll be rewarded. Thanks for reading.

*****

"I can't believe it".

Cassie shrugged. "You're a trusting guy, Tom. But I've been monitoring this for a while, and someone is stealing from us."

We were sitting in her office, the door closed, and the facts were laid out on her desk. She had worked for me for a dozen years now, and she knew her stuff. If she said that someone was stealing inventory, then they were stealing inventory.

"How much do you think they've gotten?"

She leaned forward, scanning the spreadsheets as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "It's not huge. Maybe $1,000 a month. The gemstones are coming in, but they're not being sold and they're not still in the store."

I leaned back in my chair and sighed. It was a miniscule amount given the size of the company, but it obviously needed to be dealt with. "And you think it's an insider?"

"It has to be. It's too regular. And they're taking the less valuable stones that we get in higher quantities. It's easier to cover up."

I nodded thoughtfully, then lowered my voice even though we were the only two people in the room. "We need to catch this person in the act with ironclad evidence. Maybe we should set up some cameras."

Cassie sat back too, nodding and pushing her nerdy but cute glasses back up on her nose. Her natural smile flashed reluctantly, bringing with it a dimple on each cheek. "I think that's the only way," she agreed.

We were always on the same page, Cassie and me, and that was only part of the reason I adored her. I had hired her straight out of college back when my company was a startup, and she had been a superstar since Day One. As the company grew, I kept promoting her, and now twelve years later she was my Chief Operating Officer, overseeing a staff of nearly 100 jewelry designers and salespeople. She was also my chief confidante on all things corporate.

Of course, the other reason I adored her, the reason I would never admit, was that I had a huge stockpile of fantasies about her. I was ten years older than her and happily married, so nothing was ever going to happen, but it didn't stop me from imagining. She was the perfect complement to my wife, smaller and more lean, brunette instead of blonde, and contemporarily cute as compared to my wife's classic beauty. In short, she would be a perfect change of pace if only I was allowed to have one.

And that ass...oh, that ass.

But back to business. I smiled at her. "Let me do a little research. I'll get back to you." My heart fluttered a little when she smiled back.

****

"Hi, honey!" Angela called out as I came through the front door. The dogs bounded into the foyer and greeted me with enthusiasm, so I wrestled with them for a moment.

"Hello!" I called back. The house was large and I had no idea where her voice came from, so I searched until I found her in the kitchen, mixing up a salad. I gave her a hug from behind and a kiss on the neck.

"How was your day?" I asked.

"It was good. I just took on a new client, and I think it's going to be fun. They're expanding into Thailand and we'll help set them up." Angela was a high-powered attorney, and she dealt in issues that I didn't understand.

"Hmm, sounds fun. Will you get any travel there?" My arms were wrapped around her waist and I slowly brought them up to cup her breasts. Angela had amazing breasts, full and large and still firm even in her forties. She giggled and shrugged me off.

"Behave," she said, turning around with the salad and giving me a peck on the lips. "Maybe I'll get to go. I'm not sure. I'll be working with Alaina and Meg, so we could have a blast together. Now grab some plates."

I got two plates out of the cupboard and followed her into the dining room, checking her out for the millionth time as we walked. She had matured physically from the sorority girl that I had married so long ago, but in a way that I didn't mind at all. She now had a curvier figure on her 5-7 frame, and it swayed sweetly in her lawyering suit as she walked in her bare feet. She'd kept her blonde hair long over the years, but her face had acquired a regality to replace the innocence that had once attracted me. Along the way, she had acquired a sophistication that was intoxicating and even a little intimidating.

We sat down together and began to eat. "So how was your day?" She asked. "Anything exciting happen?"

"Nah. Same old thing. We finalized a great design for an engagement ring that I think will sell well." We had learned not to talk in detail about our work. We were both highly successful, but our professional worlds were very different. I knew that she'd have a fit if I told her about the thefts, so she didn't need to know.

So we talked about politics and the latest news and gossiped a little about our coworkers.

"How's Cassie doing?" Angela asked after complaining a bit about her boss. "How did her date go the other night?" Given her tenure and her high position on my management team, Angela knew Cassie well and asked about her often.

I laughed. "He showed up in a t-shirt and took her to Applebee's. She was not impressed."

Angela clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "She's so cute. I want to set her up with somebody. There's a new attorney in the office who could be a good fit."

"You've tried that before."

"I know. But this time it could really work. I want to marry that girl off."

"I'm not sure that she wants to be married off yet. She seems to be pretty happy being single."

Angela clucked her tongue again. "When you and I were her age we'd been married for years."

"Yeah, but we were young and naïve. We never sowed our wild oats."

Angela gave me a half-serious glare. "We sowed our wild oats with each other, remember?"

"Of course, darling. And on that note..."

She saw my inquisitive look. "Are you leaving town again?"

"Baltimore. Tomorrow afternoon for two days."

We'd developed a little tradition of having sex before either of us left town. I wasn't sure how it started, but I welcomed it. We didn't have sex often enough these days, and it gave me an excuse to expect it.

"Okay, let me rinse the dishes real quick. Meet me in the bedroom."

I grinned.

Fifteen minutes later, she entered the bedroom. I was already naked, lying on the bed and resisting the urge to masturbate. She looked at my erect cock. "Ready, I see."

"I'm always ready."

She gave me a sexy smile and stepped to the foot of the bed. It was a large four-poster, and she leaned seductively onto one of the posts. "Hey, sailor, want some company?"

I winked at her.

Brushing her hair back, she began unbuttoning her blouse, revealing a silky white bra underneath. Given her curves, she tended to wear sensible bras, not overly flashy. I wished that she would be a little more sensual in that regard, but she was ever the professional. She shrugged the blouse off of her shoulders and unhooked the bra.

I love my wife, and I love her figure. Truth be told, I guess I love female figures in general, but hers is spectacular. Her breasts had filled out to a nice D cup over the years even though we'd never had children, and they were topped with large pale areolas that attracted one's eyes. Looking down, she inspected them and tweaked her nipples, then pressed her breasts together to form a deep cleavage. She almost seemed distracted by them.

"Hey, I get to play, too."

Smiling down at me, she brought a leg up onto the footboard and raised her skirt to hip level. Slowly, she rolled down her lacy stocking, its dark black contrasting with her pale skin, then did the same with the other leg. She shimmied out of her skirt, pulled down her panties, and then stepped around the bed to join me.

Angela truly was a beautiful woman. She had a small shock of dark pubic hair that belied her blonde tresses, and beneath it I could see her naturally prominent inner lips. Climbing atop me, we kissed, and I appreciated the warmth and softness of her curves as they pressed into me.

The kissing went on longer than I would like, but that was always the case. She liked it, so I kept it up until she finally broke it off.

"I'm ready. Will you give me my favorite?"

"Of course."

She rolled off of me and lay on her back. I rolled over too, pressing myself atop her. Beginning at her lips, I nibbled down her throat to her breasts, gently nipping at her nipples and manhandling her breast flesh. After a moment's distraction, I moved down further, kissing my way down her stomach to her neatly trimmed mound. I began playing with her pussy, prepping her to be eaten.

Angela loved receiving oral sex. She couldn't orgasm easily via intercourse, but a tongue would drive her crazy, so it was the tongue that she always requested. Pinning her thighs apart with my arms, I leaned into her and began running my tongue across her clit, slit, and lips. She had a very nice vulva if one liked them neat and compact: small, almost indiscernible outer lips framing a nicely flowering set of inner lips. She was a beautiful shade of pink.

I worked with enthusiasm, and she brought her hands up to play with her breasts, closing her eyes in pleasure. We were both somewhat shy and reserved, so there was no talking, no moans. Just me licking and her breathing, with an occasional small gasp as her hips began undulating, seeking more and more stimulation. Once we were in progress, I brought my hands in and began caressing her with my fingers, up and down her slit, occasionally dipping into her or down to her anus.

We'd been married forever, and I know this sounds stupid, but I fantasized about taking her anally. I'd seen porn. I wanted to slip a finger into her and make her orgasm while I was sodomizing her. I wanted to flip her over, prop her ass up with a pillow, and plow into her, forcing myself on her still-virgin anus while I pulled her hair up and arched her back. I wanted to make her gasp and moan while I buried myself inside her.

But how do you ask that of your beloved wife, the woman you love and respect? She was a classy woman, a well-heeled professional, and as straitlaced as they come. In 20 years of marriage she had never asked for anything out of the ordinary and seemed quite content with our narrow menu of sexual staples.

Part of that was my fault, too, I guess. I didn't want her to think less of me for being a pervert and I didn't want to treat her like a common whore. So I settled for playing tentatively with her back door during cunnilingus, circling it and gently pressuring it as far as I thought I could get away with. All of my other fantasies, and there were many, remained locked in my mind.

While I thought about this, I worked her with my tongue, and could feel her excitement. From years of practice, I could see the signs of orgasm approaching. Her breathing became deeper, her hips began moving, and she began biting her lower lip. Her hands squeezed tightly on her breasts, and after several minutes of attention, her back began arching. "Oh, yeah, this is it," she murmured, her breath coming in gasps. She bucked once, twice, three times, then pushed me away.

I sat up, wiping my mouth and looking down upon her. Her face was beatific, her eyes closed in secret fantasy, her fingers still coyly working her thick nipples. I stroked her widespread thighs, wondering what scene she was playing out in her mind's eye, but she was always too shy to tell me.

Finally, one blue eye opened, peering up at me. "Your turn?" she asked.

I nodded enthusiastically. "How about a blow job today?"

We switched positions, me lying down and her rising to her side, positioning herself at my left hip. We'd gotten married young so I didn't have much experience with other women, but I knew from porn that Angela's technique was a bit ... different. She preferred to not take me into her mouth, but rather to lick me. I'd never figured out why she preferred this method, but it still worked. Grasping my balls in her left hand, she began gently rolling them while she brought her lips down onto my sensitive frenum. With lips and tongue, she ran down the length of my rock-hard penis and then back up, pausing to wiggle her tongue toward the top. I enjoyed looking down at the top of her head, that beautiful mane of sculpted blonde hair working on pleasing me.

Closing my eyes, I went on a fantasy trip. It wasn't Angela this time, but a stripper. I was in the back room of a strip club and she was servicing me. Or no, maybe tonight it was in my hotel room on a business trip, and she was a brunette that I had met at the bar. I envisioned a petite young brunette, bobbing up and down. Maybe a college girl. Or actually, maybe it was Cassie on a business trip with me, having some evening fun. I settled on Cassie, her big brown eyes peering up at me as she worked. It only took a few minutes before I too was arching my back, trying to get every last bit of pleasure before I blew.

With a grunt and a moan, I shot out my load, splashing it up my chest in several spurts. Angela knew that I liked to be licked the whole time, so she didn't stop until I gave her the signal. When she smiled up at me, I saw that she had a couple of drops in her hair, but I decided not to tell her. She crawled up and nested her head in my shoulder, and we both sighed contentedly.

****

I came home from work early the next day, and was packing for Baltimore when the package arrived. I was torn for a moment about spending the time on it, but was too intrigued to leave it alone.

I opened it up and smiled. How cool.

After finishing up with Angela the night before, I had gone online and done my research, and I bought one of those little secret spy cameras. I must say, it was pretty clever. It was a phone charger just like any normal phone charger, but it also had a tiny camera built into the part that plugged into the wall. You plugged it in, left it alone, and it recorded any time it had movement and uploaded the file to the internet. It didn't offer sound, but I didn't need that to catch a thief.

I had it delivered to the house to keep it private, and of course I was headed straight to the airport so I couldn't go back to the office to set it up. Instead, I decided that it might be a good idea to run a test. The problem is, there's not much action around the house. It was just me, Angela, and our two dogs, Gustav and Archie. Pondering my options, the answer came to me.

Gustav and Archie, like most dogs, had serious issues with the mailman. I knew that from having a few sick days over the years, and maybe a video would be fun on Facebook. I found an electrical outlet that faced the front door and plugged the "charger" in. It was perfectly situated to catch all the action. I set up the account on the internet, and wrestled a goodbye with the dogs.

Baltimore was a three-hour flight away, and I went out to dinner. Back at my hotel room late in the evening, I logged on, checked some e-mails, and then remembered the camera. I went to the site and logged in.

My account now had a bunch of files on it, each indicating a period of movement. It took a minute or two to figure out the system, but once I got the first video playing it worked like a charm. As the video opened, Gustav and Archie were skidding toward the door, barking like crazy at a shadow outside. Mailman! I chuckled at their antics for a full minute. The video was very high quality, nice color and crisp resolution. Shot from the perspective of an electrical outlet, the action took place pretty much at dog height, too.

I opened the next file, and it was Gustav wandering by. Then another file of Archie. The camera captured anything that went on and sent me a file, then went dormant when the action stopped. I started figuring out that the smaller files only included the dogs walking by, and the longer files meant more action.

The fourth file was Angela coming home from work. It must have rained hard that day because she was soaked in spite of her umbrella, her dark blonde hair limp on her shoulders and her clothes clinging to her. I hadn't really thought about seeing her on the videos, and I smiled at my unintended voyeurism. She looked even more gorgeous than usual in her dampness, her dressy white blouse and sexy flannel gray pencil skirt practically painted onto her. She put the umbrella in its stand, ran her hands through her hair, and I could tell she was annoyed. She kicked off her heels, and as she bent to pick them up I got a great view looking upward toward her ass. She walked out of camera range and the file ended.

Another dog video.

Another dog video.

A video of Angela in yoga pants and t-shirt, chasing the dogs and pulling them toward the garage.

The next video surprised me. Angela walked to the door and opened it up. She motioned a welcome and a young woman entered. My eyebrows rose. The woman was young, probably just past college age, and quite attractive. She had long red hair, and once she removed her raincoat she had a nice figure, slender and busty in a slinky but conservative dress. She was probably a couple of inches taller than Angela. The two women hugged, then left the camera range and the video went blank.

Who was that? I puzzled over the possibilities. Maybe it was someone she worked with, but I'd never seen that woman at the office Christmas party, and I would have noticed a sizzling hot redhead. Maybe someone coming to do some work on the house? That made no sense. I looked at the time stamp on the video and it was at 8:15 p.m.

Who was coming to the house at 8:15 p.m.?

Whoever it was, I wanted to meet her. I'd have to figure out a way to find out about her visit, since I certainly couldn't admit that I'd been inadvertently spying on Angela. But wow - my wife was hanging out with a hottie. I replayed the video. Looking upward from outlet height, I got a good and unobstructed view. Nice legs, nice breasts that were almost as big as Angela's, and young. I paused it and studied her face, but it rang no bells in my mind.

I studied the video for more clues. The two women left the frame toward the right. The living room was on the left, as well as the easiest path to the kitchen. So they were most likely going to the bedroom or one of the guest rooms. I bet Angela was getting a massage and not telling me about it. She loved getting massages, but she usually went to a spa to get them. If that was a massage, I really needed to figure out who the woman was. I felt myself getting hard just imagining a rubdown at the redhead's hands.

I shrugged and opened up the next video. It was time-stamped just before 10:30 p.m. Sure enough, Angela and the redhead were at the door again, this time in a departure scene. Angela was now in a robe, so it must have been a massage. After the redhead put her raincoat back on, the two women chatted at the door briefly, then embraced in a hug.

It was a rather long hug, I observed. Arms wrapped around each other, bodies in full contact, they appeared to be speaking, Angela leaning back slightly so they could be face to face.

And then they kissed.

They.

Kissed.

I was so shocked that I had to look up from the screen to process it. I was lounging on the bed of my hotel room, and I looked straight into the mirror on the opposite wall where I could see my own shocked face looking back.

What the hell?

The video had ended, so I restarted it. It was only about 90 seconds long. The two woman walked to the door. The redhead put on her raincoat. Angela opened the door. They hugged. They chatted, still in the hug, their faces close together.

And then the redhead leaned in and gave Angela a kiss. And not just one of those sisterly pecks on the lips. It was a KISS.