Ethan’s life was a machine—polished, efficient, and precise. His days ticked along in neatly measured increments: gym sessions before sunrise, work meetings perfectly stacked like bricks, quarterly getaways with Lauren, his wife of seven years. Yet for all his mastery of schedules and structure, there was one thing Ethan couldn’t control—the growing chasm in his marriage.
Lauren had changed. Her laughter, once bright and unrestrained, now felt scripted, as though she were reciting lines from a play. Her casual kisses on his cheek had grown perfunctory, a mere echo of the intimacy they once shared. She’d begun dressing differently, too—form-fitting dresses, bold lipstick, and heels that seemed more suited to evenings out than their quiet dinners at home.
Ethan tried to dismiss it. He told himself it was stress, a midlife crisis, or just one of those inevitable lulls in a long relationship. But the doubts festered, gnawing at the edges of his carefully composed world. Each time he packed a suitcase for another week-long work trip, the unease tightened its grip.
On the morning of yet another departure, Ethan’s unease reached a breaking point. As Lauren busied herself in the kitchen, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of morning light, Ethan slipped into their bedroom. His hands trembled as he installed the hidden camera, positioning it precisely between two novels on the shelf.
“This is just to prove I’m wrong,” he whispered under his breath, the words more a prayer than a justification.
That first night in his hotel room, Ethan was nearly paralyzed with hesitation. His finger hovered over the app on his phone, the weight of his own paranoia crushing him. When he finally opened it, the screen filled with a familiar sight: Lauren curled up in bed, reading her book. Her face was serene, her movements unremarkable. She adjusted her glasses, smiled faintly at something on the page, and eventually turned out the light.
Relief washed over Ethan in an almost overwhelming wave. He felt foolish for doubting her, guilty for invading her privacy. You’re losing it, he thought, shaking his head as he set his phone aside.
But on the second night, everything changed.
Ethan returned to his hotel room after a grueling day of meetings, his mind a whirl of spreadsheets and client demands. He opened the app on autopilot, expecting another mundane clip. Instead, he froze.
There was a man in their bedroom.
The stranger was tall, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt, which he was already unbuttoning. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as though he knew he had all the time in the world. Tattoos snaked up his forearms, dark and intricate, catching the faint light of the bedside lamp.
Lauren stood before him, her posture relaxed, her smile warm in a way Ethan hadn’t seen in years. She reached out, her fingers deftly undoing the last button of the man’s shirt. He shrugged it off, revealing a torso that rippled with muscle, the kind of physique that spoke of hours in the gym.
Ethan’s chest tightened, a sharp ache spreading through him. He gripped the phone so hard his knuckles turned white, unable to tear his eyes from the screen. His breath came in shallow gasps as Lauren stepped closer to the man, her hands gliding across his chest, then unbuckling his trousers. Moments later the man stood naked in front of his wife. Her lips moved, murmuring something Ethan couldn’t hear, her voice soft and intimate, but her eyes were clearly directed at his groin.
The man responded with a low laugh, the sound deep and resonant. He slid his hands to Lauren’s hips, pulling her against him with an ease that made Ethan’s stomach churn. The camera captured every detail—her head tilting back, her eyes sparkling, the curve of her lips as she smiled up at the stranger.
When the man kissed her, Ethan felt as though the air had been sucked from the room. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was hungry, possessive, his hands roaming Lauren’s body with a confidence that made Ethan feel small. She responded with equal fervor, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed herself closer.
Ethan’s hands shook so violently he nearly dropped the phone. His mind screamed at him to stop watching, to close the app and erase the footage. But his body betrayed him, frozen in place as the scene unfolded.
The man’s hands slid to the hem of Lauren’s dress, lifting it inch by agonizing inch. Her skin gleamed under the soft light, smooth and radiant. She didn’t resist—instead, she helped him, her movements fluid and eager. The dress fell to the floor in a whisper of fabric, pooling around her feet. She stood before him in a lacy black bra and matching panties Ethan didn’t recognize.
Unclasping the bra, then letting it fall to the floor, Lauren pulled down her panties and stepped out of them.
Ethan’s clenched his teeth as the man stepped back, his gaze raking over Lauren’s naked body with undisguised admiration as he stroked his swelling cock. He said something—words Ethan couldn’t make out but could feel in the way Lauren laughed, her voice rich and throaty.
Ethan’s vision blurred, his head pounding as if his skull were about to split open. He felt like an intruder in his own life, a voyeur witnessing a reality he couldn’t comprehend.
The man lifted Lauren effortlessly, his hands gripping her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist. They moved to the bed, their laughter and whispers mingling as they sank onto the mattress. Ethan couldn’t look away, even as every fiber of his being screamed for him to stop.
The tattooed man dropped Lauren onto the bed, flipped her over onto her hands and knees, and fucked her pussy for the better part of twenty.
Then Ethan could overhear his wife say something to the man, who smiled and began to probe her anus with his finger. A few minutes later he was doing something he had never done with his wife … fuck her ass.
When he was finished using Ethan’s wife, he put his clothes back on. Lauren reached over and turned off the lamp on the bed stand, causing the camera to go dark.
For hours that night, Ethan sat in his hotel room, staring at the now-dark screen of his phone. The images replayed in his mind, vivid and unrelenting. Lauren’s laughter. Her smile. The way she moved, so alive, so unrestrained.
He told himself it was a one-time betrayal, an isolated incident. But the next night proved him wrong.
When he opened the app again, Ethan was met with a new face. This man was leaner but no less imposing, his jawline sharp and his expression brimming with confidence. He wore a casual smirk as he stepped into their bedroom, his fingers already pulling off his tie. Lauren greeted him with a playful grin, her hands sliding up his chest as she whispered something in his ear. He chuckled, his hands encircling her waist, pulling her flush against him.
Soon, the man was naked and Lauren was wearing nothing more than a pair of stockings.
This man moved differently than the tattooed man, with a dancer’s grace and a predator’s precision. Ethan watched in agonized silence as he lifted Lauren off her feet and spun her around, her laughter ringing out like music. The two of them collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, their passion uninhibited and raw.
Lauren climbed on top and fucked the man cowgirl for fifteen minutes, before her breath became labored. She dismounted, and her lover dragged her to the edge of the bed, where he fucked her until he sprayed his cum on her chest.
By the third night, Ethan no longer expected relief. The stranger this time was a towering figure, his shoulders broad enough to block out the camera’s view as he embraced Lauren. His voice was a low rumble, the kind that seemed to vibrate through the walls. Lauren’s eyes sparkled as she leaned into him, her lips brushing his ear as she murmured something that made him laugh.
Ethan watched, numb and detached, as the man pulled Lauren close, his hands roaming her body with unrestrained fervor. Her reactions were electric, her body arching under his touch in ways that made Ethan’s heart twist painfully.
First she mounted the man cowgirl, then turned around reverse cowgirl. For a moment, Ethan thought his wife knew he was watching.
Each new night brought a fresh torment, a different man, and the same undeniable truth: Lauren had found something Ethan couldn’t give her. And worst of all, he couldn’t stop watching.
What Ethan didn’t realize was that Lauren had found the camera almost immediately. While cleaning the bookshelf one day, her fingers had brushed against the tiny device. Her initial shock gave way to amusement, and eventually, to something far darker. She realized she wasn’t just betraying Ethan; she was performing for him.
At first, she didn’t let on that she knew. But her behavior began to shift. She started wearing lingerie she hadn’t touched in years, applying makeup with more care, positioning herself deliberately within the camera’s view. Occasionally, she would glance directly at the lens, her gaze lingering for just a second too long, her lips curving into a knowing smirk.
Her whispers grew pointed, loud enough for the microphone to catch. “He doesn’t touch me like this,” she murmured to one lover, her voice dripping with mockery. Another time, she laughed softly and asked, “Your cock is so much bigger than my husband’s.”
Ethan heard every word, and each one was a dagger to his heart. But still, he couldn’t look away.
Then one night, as Ethan sat in his hotel room with the app open, Lauren appeared on the screen alone. She was sitting on their bed, a glass of wine in her hand, wearing a robe that hung loosely off her shoulders. Her expression was calm, almost serene, but her eyes glittered with something cruel.
“You’ve been enjoying the show, haven’t you?” she said, her voice low and mocking. Ethan’s stomach dropped as she continued. “I found your little camera weeks ago. At first, I was angry. But then I realized—I could give you exactly what you wanted.”
She leaned forward; her smile sharp as a blade. “You didn’t confront me. You didn’t try to stop me. No, you just watched. Like a fucking cuckold.”
Ethan felt as though the air had been sucked from his lungs. He stared at the screen, his body trembling as her words sliced through him.
“That is exactly what you are now,” Lauren said softly. “A pathetic cuckold who can’t stop watching his wife getting fucked by better men.”
She took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving the camera. “Good night, Ethan,” she said with a final, cutting smile.
The screen went dark.
Ethan sat frozen, the weight of her words pressing down on him. She was right—he couldn’t stop watching. And she knew it.