36. Betrayal

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t hear Ray. Nothing existed except that view, the movement, the flashbacks of yesterday.

His face shifted slightly and the view changed again. From what I could see, this time he was nowhere to be seen. Only her. The broom she had been holding seconds ago now lay fallen on the ground. She stood there, frozen in place. Yet those tiny, uncontrollable tremors told me enough. Tremors that made it clear that something was happening to her, even if I couldn’t see it directly.

My breath slowed. My eyes narrowwd.

Then I noticed it. The faint lift of her skirt. Just a little. And everything made sense.

The details became much easier to understand as my focus locked in. One hand was placed over one of her ass cheeks, fingers digging in possesively. The other was working it's way under the fabric, slowly trying to pull her skirt up.

But, she tried to stop it. I could see her hand pushing at his wrist, trying to fight back, stopping him. But it was... weak. Half-hearted, to be precise. Like she was resisting, only to convince herself later that she had fought back, that she didn't give in instantly.

There was no real fight in her body. Just putting up an useless act.

My heart felt heavier, and my cock... harder.

If that is actually my wife... If that is actually her...

Then...

Then...

...

Then... what?

What was I supposed to do? What could I do?

The questions echoed through every bone in my body, and shamefully enough, I already knew the answer.

There was nothing I was supposed to do. Nothing I could do. I could only watch.

My beloved wife… with that man.

I tried to tell myself it wasn’t them. It couldn’t be. They must be someone else. They have to be...

A bead of sweat slid down my forehead and fell on the screen, blurring the wretched view. I was terrified. I was helpless. I... I felt like dying.

I looked down at my cock. It was hard as a rock. Worse, it was even leaking. Shameful. Pathetic. Disgusting. I threw every insult I could at myself, hoping one of them would finally kill it.

None of them did. It didn’t soften. If anything, it twitched harder.

Each word only made it worse, like it enjoyed being hated, like it fed on my misery. The harder I tried to reject it, the more it flexed.

No. God, no.

It was asking me to touch it. Begging me to stroke it while I watched my wife get treated like that by an old man, right there in broad daylight. The thought made my nerves flutter.

And yet it tempted me.

This wasn’t new. I had felt this before. During her dance with Ray, and yesterday, when my thoughts drifted to her and the old man.

My eyes dropped back to the screen.

From the visuals alone, it was clear now. They were hugging. Not briefly. Not awkwardly. Intimately and very very wrongly.

That fucking bastard.

Useless curses erupted in my head, because that was all I could do at the moment.

Doing such dirty things, out in the open, so blatantly...

THROB. THROB.

What if someone saw them? What would they think?

My breathing grew heavy and short. Betrayal and arousal collided inside me, neither giving way.

She couldn’t be… her.

She couldn’t.

But why? Why with him? With an old man?

Was I really... this worthless?

Through the screen, I could see his dirty arms around her, hands squeezing her ass as openly as he wanted. Every squeeze was a slap on my cheeks.

“You okay?” he asked. “Your face looks… off.”

Ray’s voice suddenly cut in, his face covering the entire screen.

I swallowed. My throat felt dry.

“That head injury,” he continued lightly. “Situations like this can mess with you. Best thing is not to strain yourself. Just breathe. Alright.”

My throat was too jammed to answer.

Of course I’m talking about office situations,” Ray added with a small smile. “It can be overwhelming, so I’d advise you not to focus too hard….”

He paused just long enough for the silence to stretch.

... On your job.”

Yeah, Right. On my job...

His words burned.

But what burned more was his intention. I understood it clearly behind every indirect dig. That small smile, he was trying to hide told me enough. He was telling me to stay put... to quietly watch... to take it all in.

Each sentence dug deeper, lighting something humiliating inside me while my cock kept leaking, betraying me, pulsing in time with my shame.

This can not be real. But this was real.

He finally shifted the phone a little, giving more of the background. And that was when I lost it.

They were… still.

Completely still. She wasn't moving at all like before. No fight back. Nothing.

The old man’s hand was in her hair, gripping it firmly, holding her head down towards him. His other hand was on her ass, her skirt pushed all the way up.

W-Wait...

T... They were... kissing...

They were actually kissing.

F-Fuck... I can't... take this..

Against my will, my right hand grabbed my cock.

And the second the warmth of my cock surged through my hand, it felt almost magical.

I wanted to cut the call and end this once and for all. But not anymore. I was past that. I knew, it was wrong, but how could I overlook the weird emotions I was feeling.

From my perspective, if I tried to describe her condition, in one word. She looked: Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. I refused to believe this was her. The way her cheeks were spread open for anyone to see, her hair tightly gripped, her head forced down by that filthy old man. And she was kissing him. Kissing him without a fucking care in the world. That man who looked dirtier than a cockroache. She was actually kissing him, mouth to mouth. How? How could she?

While the questions were questioning her morality, her values, they equally questioned mine as well. A man with morals wouldn’t be getting excited at the sight of her wife making out with an old man.

His tongue must be rolling inside her mouth. The mouth that had kissed me before. The mouth that apparently belonged to only me. And the way he had grabbed her hair, with a grip, with authority, like she was some toy to play with. My wife… a toy for someone else?

Fuck… ing bastard.

The thoughts of humiliation became too much for me to handle. So, It happened. My first stroke. And what I felt was… indescribable.

Ray came into view on the screen, a faint smile on his face. “Okay, we’ll talk later.”

I shook my head instantly, trembling. “No… no. Please.”

He gave me a silent stare, then moved aside. The next view that appeared made my stomach drop. My wife, being dragged by her hair inside the gate. They went inside. Into the house. My house… inside.

That...means. They were going to fuck. They were going to fuck inside my house. His dirty cock would be inside her. She would be moaning just like yesterday.

My strokes became furious. Thin strands of precum falling all over my pants.

Ray kept talking, making meaningless small talk about the weather and other trivial things, moving closer to the house. He stopped right outside the wall of my house. Of course he stopped intentionally, but he acted like it was casual. He placed the phone on the wall, saying something about something stuck in the tree and asked me to wait a minute.

My ears strained. I cursed under my breath. Why didn’t he just go inside? And then, faintly, I heard it. Thin, low sounds, curses, whimpers.

I pressed closer to the phone, trying to catch every word. From the tone, from the noises, I knew they were just behind the wall.

In a low voice, I heard him curse, “MY… bitch.” My ears were glued to the speaker.

Slap… then low whimpers in her voice.

That bastard’s words were cruel. But at the same time… it was exactly what my mind latched onto. Something raw. Something dirty.

Another Slap…

Look at you…

More low whispers, insults, and sounds I could barely decipher. My mind raced, heart pounding, trying to understand the impossible reality in front of me. Every word, every sound, every gesture made the humiliation crush me deeper.

Ray finally picked up the phone, cutting the voice. He moved forward, and as he passed the gates, he stopped again. Every stop he had taken so far carried a purpose, and I knew this stop was about to reveal something as well. The old man came into view, clearer this time. Ray shifted the camera to bring them fully into frame. Through the gate, I could see the old man’s legs, his shorts fallen, and a crouched figure with a hand placed on his thighs for support.

But it wasn't enough. The view felt incomplete.

Come on. Come on. Please. Just a little more…

and then it appeared. The sight I had been waiting for. The sight of my wife, kneeling between his legs, losing herself in him like some depraved woman who had forgotten she was married.

Her movements were frantic, rough, completely crazy. From my angle I could only see the side of them, but it was enough. My hand moved in the same speed as her head.

Fuck... yeah. Suck on it.

Suck on that... old cock.

The old man stood still, one hand placed on her head. The visuals were fucking hot. Then with a hard grunt, he smacked his hips forward.

Didn’t he have back pain?

They switched places now. It was his turn to move. He moved his hips violently forward and backward, while her hands slid up his stomach in a passionate way. Like she was begging for more. They seemed so into it. And it was clear this wasn’t their first time.

So the dream yesterday… wasn’t a dream.

Fuck... They were fucking behind my back. Since when?

I was supposed to feel hurt for her betrayal, and I was hurt. But the hurt didn’t make me cry—it made me excited. What are these emotions?

All the pent-up feelings from yesterday, all these dirty thoughts about them, and now this act right in front of my eyes…

I couldn't hold back anymore.

I... I am cumming.

My whole body jerked as the orgasm tore out of me. I didn’t even have time to hold it back.

Hot spurts shot out one after other, some hit my hand which was holding the cell phone, and some right on the screen.

One thick drop landed right on the lower corner of my phone, spreading across the glass.

The screen flickered for a second.

Another drop slid down, spreading over Ray’s frozen face. And then the call suddenly cut. Disconnected. Just like that.

For a second, I just stared, trying to process what happened. Then I realized. I… ended the call. Because I came on the screen.

My cum hit the exact spot where the end-call button was.

Pathetic. Fucking pathetic.