Uncovered

by A. S Peavey

  In the meantime—when her husband wasn’t taking care of her libido—she was out of luck.

  And even though Omar was fucking her a lot more—and a lot better—than before this had started, it wasn’t enough. Kelsey had changed in the past month. She hadn’t been anti-masturbation before this started. But she rarely felt the urge. If she fucked herself once a month, that was above average.

  Kelsey grew frustrated, unable to fuck other people, unable to even fantasize about those other people. Her mind tried to buck her determination, to present her with ready made visions of herself riding strange men she had seen on the street or invented whole cloth. But it never overcame the block she had put on her libido. She got control of herself, as much as she wished she wouldn’t.

  And the thoughts of the men she had fucked (and of Vickie) made her cold. Even when Kelsey had been with Omar, the brief image of one of her lovers turned her off, grinding their sex to a halt. Omar had been patient, and with her encouragement restarted her libido.

  In time, she realized the guilt didn’t extend to fantasies of Omar and his mistress. That let her fuck herself from time to time. But still not as much as her body craved.

  Eventually even that fantasy betrayed her.

  No, betrayal wasn’t right, even if it felt that way. The fantasy stopped being about sex and pleasure, and started being about talking with her husband.

  It happened one day after work. She was home early, imagining that she had caught the couple fucking a second time. Her finger gently rubbed her clit. She could taste the orgasm coming.

  And then her libido just gave up the ghost. The fantasy went off the rails. Instead of fucking them, or watching them fuck, she started talking to Omar and his lover.

  Hence it felt like a betrayal.

  But a minute later, Kelsey realized the fantasy offered a solution. If she couldn’t raise her and Omar’s mutual infidelity in normal conversation, there were other options.

  If she caught Omar in the act, the conversation couldn’t be avoided.

  Kelsey’s only job would be to make sure Omar didn’t become too defensive.

  Kelsey ran through the conversation in her head until she had settled how to respond to any response Omar made.

  Though, frankly, she wanted to tell them to continue fucking. To show them that she was masturbating to their fucking. To let Omar know how horny it made her.

  That could even work, to assuage Omar’s guilt. A demonstration could be better than words. Assuming his mistress didn’t run out.

  Kelsey had backup plans that might be even more fun. She had masturbated to them already. Omar’s mistress ran off; Omar tried to follow. But Kelsey stopped him, kneeling in front of him, sucking his cock, fresh with the mess his mistress had left on it. Or she would slide into place, onto the hard cock, his mistress had dismounted, even before she made it out of the room.

  But those were fantasies. She could play them out, if necessary. But she wanted everything to go smoothly, she wanted everyone to stay relaxed when she entered the bedroom.

  Her real plan seemed like a fantasy. But Kelsey wanted sex to be involved because the conversation would concern sex. She wanted sex to put her husband in the right frame of mind. But she didn’t want sex only to fulfill her own fantasies. If she went through the motions to protect Omar’s ego, all well and good.

  She could act on the fantasies after she had a good long talk with Omar.

  If only that talk could be dirty.

  All that settled, Kelsey still needed to catch Omar in the act. She couldn’t show up at home in the middle of the day, day after day, hoping to eventually find them fucking. Kelsey had already wasted enough work hours rescheduling her fertility appointment. And all the fantasies were detracting from her productivity at work.

  If she took another afternoon off, she had to be certain to catch Omar red—well, red cocked.

  But how? Kelsey could generate an excuse to say she would absolutely not being able to be at home some afternoon. Maybe Doctor Boutre wanted a follow-up visit. But Omar would ask too many questions about what Boutre had found to require that follow-up.

  But more importantly, that plan didn’t come close to guaranteeing Omar and his mistress would show up. Maybe the first tryst hadn’t been planned to take advantage of Kelsey’s appointment to fuck while Kelsey wouldn’t possibly interrupt. What if that had been a coincidence?

  Kelsey felt stupid when a much simpler method to catch her husband occurred to her.

  Spy cameras.

  She knew they couldn’t get anything as good as movie spies used. But watching a few too many pseudo-educational shows had taught her that more was available—and available cheaply—than you would expect.

  There was even a local store, with a storefront and all, that sold the equipment. It operated just like any other small shop, few questions were asked—probably so the proprietor wouldn’t have to report customers or refuse sales if the cameras would be used illegally. Kelsey doubted the clerk would have batted an eye if she had tried to lie about her purpose.

  But the female clerk did ask if Kelsey was worried about an affair—as a matter of chit chat. Apparently most of her clientele consisted of private investigators. Most of their work—despite the glamorous views in books and movies—involved documenting affairs.

  Kelsey nodded—after a brief hesitation.

  “Don’t be nervous,” the clerk said. “Some men can be scum. That’s not your fault. Not that we can’t be scum too.” The clerk gave a big grin, before offering a few tips on how to use the cameras with an eye to recording for a divorce lawyer to use, and how to hide the cameras to ensure maximum secrecy.

  Kelsey was more concerned with hiding the equipment. She wasn’t worried about what a lawyer would pass around. If she wanted to record the affair for any future purpose, it would be her pleasure.

  Though she looked forward more to watching live once Omar knew she was in on the secret. Then, if Kelsey wanted a recording, they could use high-quality equipment, too large to hide. Omar and his mistress could even show off for the camera.

  So Kelsey didn’t place the cameras in the bedroom. If Omar was at all paranoid, he might find them aimed at their bed. Other, less obtrusive places, existed. But for Kelsey’s unique purposes, she just needed to know when the affair began.

  Kelsey hid them near the doors. That way she would also have the earliest possible warning, and the most time to get home before Omar and his mistress were finished. The main entrance was easy; Kelsey had a shelf of knick-knacks that Omar rarely touched. Of course, Kelsey only bought them because she assumed her house should have some sort of knick-knacks.

  The kitchen door was more difficult. Omar did most of the cooking. But, Kelsey realized, he rarely used cookbooks. And then he only ever touched four of their many cookbooks. The rest offered effective cover.

  Kelsey then set up a relay through the home computer to provide a feed she could watch from anywhere, especially from work. That part was simple; she had tinkered with computers enough.

  Then it was a simple matter of waiting. The first day came and went, and nothing ever changed on the feed.

  Near the end of the second day, Omar showed up on the camera. Kelsey got excited, until she remembered she was working late, and Omar was hardly early. He couldn’t conduct and clean up an affair in an hour.

  The feed only gave her clues to guess at tonight’s dinner.

  A week and a half passed, and Kelsey saw no further evidence of Omar’s affair. Though she had thought Omar had found one of the cameras when it stopped sending a signal. But that only meant she needed to replace a battery; Omar hadn’t disabled the camera to hide his activity. Kelsey hadn’t read the instructions all the way through, and she didn’t know how quickly the batteries were used up.

  By now, Kelsey was worried that Omar’s affair had been a one-time event. Or maybe Kelsey’s presence, some hint she left behind, had spooked the lovers. She doubted she had scared Omar enough to g
o straight. Kelsey knew how hard it was to give up fucking other people—Kelsey was desperate to get back to it—and she hadn’t found a partner who was as wild, or who was as emotionally connected to her, as Omar’s mistress was to him.

  But they might have been scared enough to find another place to fuck. Maybe the mistress’s place was better. Or maybe she too had a husband or boyfriend—or wife or girlfriend. So maybe they went to a hotel.

  But then Kelsey spotted them on the camera—or at least the back of their heads as they entered the living room. So Kelsey didn’t even get a good look at Omar’s hot mistress.

  She might have, if she kept watching.

  But she didn’t stay there. And not because she was rushing to the car to get home. Unfortunately, her workload today wouldn’t let her just take off. Oh, she could probably have faked an illness and gotten her boss to tell her to go home. But even she knew she needed to finish this project, no matter what.

  But she did take a little time off. She couldn’t be completely productive knowing what Omar and his mistress would be doing. Right now. In her marriage bed.

  Kelsey couldn’t believe herself when she took a bathroom break and instead of going to the bathroom, she fucked herself. One other woman entered, forcing Kelsey to pause. But she left after quickly freshening herself up. Kelsey resumed the motions of her fingers soon afterward.

  Vickie entered the bathroom as Kelsey washing off her hands. Vickie flashed Kelsey a seemingly knowing smile, or a sympathetic smile. But Vickie didn’t know what Kelsey was up to. Kelsey hadn’t revealed her plan to catch Omar for fear that Vickie might put the kibosh on the plan.

  Yeah. Maybe Vickie would have been thrilled that she was trying something. But maybe not. As it was, Kelsey was conflicted. There seemed to be a little too much fantasy in this plan. So Kelsey didn’t want Vickie to force her to confront its merits.

  But as Vickie passed, Kelsey had the urge to kiss Vickie, to drag her into a stall and fuck her right then and there.

  Masturbating hadn’t been enough.

  She didn’t kiss Vickie. First, she had promised herself (and tacitly Vickie) not to sleep with other people until she talked with Omar. Second, the bathroom barely offered enough privacy to masturbate. There was no way she could hide full blown sex.

  And Vickie wouldn’t have consented. She’d already stopped Kelsey the first time Kelsey tried to seduce her. She was picky. And Vickie was incredibly professional; she knew how to keep her sex life out of her work life—and any other time she didn’t want it to intrude.

  Vickie just said “Hey,” as she headed to a stall, and Kelsey said “Hey,” back. They weren’t very friendly at work, even if they were friendlier outside.

  Kelsey headed back to her desk. She looked occasionally at the cameras—they showed nothing but empty rooms—but after ten minutes she had to shut down the feed. She half wished she had a camera in the bedroom—but that would just send her scurrying back to the bathroom for another round of self-love.

  Kelsey desperately needed to get back to work, to finish this project. If she saw even the happy look on the mistress’ face when she came out for water after round one, Kelsey wouldn’t be at all productive.

  And if she tried to work through evidence of their sex, Kelsey would just grow jealous.

  At least Kelsey was able to treat herself that night with a hot fuck. Omar had no clue why she ambushed him at the door with a blowjob, instead of the smells of dinner.

  Kelsey wasn’t just horny. She was happy. This sighting meant the affair was still going on. It was continuing in her marriage bed. With just a little patient. the day would come for her plan.

  As it did a week later.

  She spotted them entering just like before. And just like before, she hurried away from her desk. But this time no pressing projects kept her at work. She could head home and catch them in the act. Live and in person.

  Kelsey approached her house carefully, looking around the street for her husband’s car. She couldn’t spot it. His mistress must have driven, maybe so nosy neighbors wouldn’t notice him showing up in the middle of the day.

  Kelsey inched the door open—Omar hadn’t known why she sprayed the hinges, at long last removing the creak from the doors. She was just as quiet on tip-toes heading back to the bedroom.

  As if they would hear her over the noise of their lovemaking. It wasn’t like they heard her the first time she caught them in the act. She hadn’t tried to tamp down her noise then.

  And Omar and his mistress were moaning and making the bed squeak.

  Kelsey couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed the sounds of fucking for a minute the first she caught those lovers. Yeah, she was distracted, but still.

  This time her pussy went instantly wet—drenched, because it wasn’t like she failed to be excited while driving back home.

  By the time she shut the door slowly behind her, Kelsey’s freehand was inside her pants, inside her panties. Her hand had approached her pussy while the door was half open; her will power was barely enough to hide her arousal from nosy neighbors. She could only hope no one was watching her and her hand.

  Kelsey could have happily leaned against the door, slid down, and brought herself to orgasm right here. But that wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t about her pleasure.

  And, frankly, the plan offered Kelsey a lot more pleasure, plenty of new sexual adventures.

  Kelsey had planned it out in detail. She would continue to move slowly, quietly, down the hallway. No use interrupting until Omar and his mistress could see how much she enjoyed, how much she thrilled at, their infidelity.

  She would sit on a chair in the bedroom. Day by day she had repositioned it until stood not far from the doorway, and faced directly at the bed. She would move in, plop down in the chair, and start playing with herself. Hopefully, before they saw her. Hopefully, not long before.

  She hadn’t planned to pause outside the door. She reached the doorway but couldn’t force her feet to take that last step. That last irrevocable step. Kelsey’s husband and his mistress would be able to see her. She had to force herself to breathe deeply and slowly

  Kelsey knew intellectually that she needed this meeting. Kelsey’s emotion—and her libido—pushed her forward. But there was still fear.

  But standing outside the door, breathing deeply, she also listened. She heard lovers moving, kissing, gasping. The mistress moans that Kelsey had heard rínging throughout the house gave way to deeper but quieter moans—moans Kelsey couldn’t elicit from Omar.

  Kelsey imagined their motions, as they traded position to exchange foreplay, kiss and make each other gasp. She saw their bodies mingling, them smiling at each other, and casting annoyed glances as one distracted the other from their own attempts to give pleasure.

  Now nothing could keep Kelsey out. She had to see it. She wanted to finally see her husband having sex with another woman.

  She stepped into the room and sat down. Her eyes were out of focus, her need warping her view as she moved her pants down, out of the way of her hands’ access to her clit.

  The mistress noticed Kelsey almost immediately. Her mouth was on his cock and her eyes aimed at the chair—though they had been unfocused as she took in all the other sensations. She couldn’t help noticing motion.

  “You’re back,” the woman said, looking up, taking her mouth off the cock she was sucking. She kept up a saliva filled hand job while she smiled at Kelsey, expecting a reply.

  Kelsey couldn’t find words. The cock this woman had come up from, the man attached to it—he wasn’t her husband.

  Kelsey’s spy camera had showed her the back of his head. He’d been wearing a hat—not one that Kelsey had recognized. But that hadn’t worried Kelsey. Nor had she noticed his height, which was obviously more than Omar’s.

  She’d been too excited. She’d jumped out of her desk chair, only calming down when she poked her head into her boss’ office to say she needed to take the rest of the afternoon off; she’d
make up the hours later.

  Kelsey probably hadn’t tamped down that excitement enough, but her boss let her go. And all Kelsey could think about on her way home was watching her husband fuck another woman—actually getting a good view this time, seeing her husband’s cock entering another woman. She had to remind herself this was about confronting—and overcoming—her husband’s infidelity. Dealing with their past, and planning for the future.

  Though the fun would prepare them for that conversation.

  She’d never thought about the man on the camera. She had seen the smile on the woman’s face as she turned to the man she was fucking, grabbing his hand to tug him toward the bedroom.

  “Don’t worry,” the woman—not mistress—said. “I told Carter about you watching. Neither of us were offended. That made me horny—I think you saw that. And when I told him—man alive, he went crazy to fuck me again. That day was amazing—thanks to you.”

  “Uh…”

  “And we didn’t tell your husband. We won’t—if you wanted to do more than watch.”

  Any other day, Kelsey would have jumped at that invitation. Two strangers to fuck at once. But today? Her libido hadn’t fled, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as it was a minute before. It rose when she entered the house, and entered the room, but after seeing a man who was not Omar, it had dipped back down to the standard low-grade excitement of the past weeks that she felt when she wanted sex but had to wait a few hours for Omar, or some other opportunity.

  “You…you saw me?”

  “I guess I pretended not to. So I wouldn’t scare you away. I didn’t want to lose my audience. Not when it was making me so excited. But I guess I didn’t need to be worried.”

  The woman didn’t wait for more questions. She gave her lover’s cock a few more kisses, and then mounted him, focusing on him.

  God, it was so hot, but Kelsey’s libido still didn’t rise back up. She thought about lifting her panties, fucking herself, making the best of this. But her libido was too low to overcome her nerves. As if it was embarrassing to be seen fucking herself, while another couple fucked on her bed.