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Part I - His Version

I have been a snoop for quite some time, eavesdropping,
peering into my neighbors' windows, and sneaking around so as to
gain a view into other people's lives. I've always been curious,
but the serious snooping began with an accidental view through my
telescope.

Let me provide the background. My wife and I live in a
suburban townhouse development. My wife is a freelance business
consultant, usually working out of the offices of the companies
for which she consults, but occasionally at home. I repair TVs
and work out of our home. I've converted our spare bedroom into
my shop. What once was a bedroom is now filled with shelves,
workbenches, a cot, and a plethora of equipment, not to mention
TVs. Because of my concern for the security of the considerable
amount of expensive equipment, and because I hate to be
interrupted when I'm working, I keep the shop locked whether or
not I'm in it. I've covered the windows with blackout shades,
both to keep out daylight (which can often get in the way of my
work) and to keep outside eyes from discovering how much
equipment is in the room.

Thus, my shop has become my private den, my lair, a place to
which I can retreat for privacy and secrecy. Because it is
secure, I've taken to keeping any expensive equipment there, even
if it has nothing to do with TVs. In particular, I keep my
telescope there, a spotting scope that I originally bought for
bird watching. It was that scope that really began it all.

One night, for no particular reason, I decided to look
around the neighborhood with the scope. Turning off all the
lights in my shop, I partially raised one blackout shade, and
looked through the scope at any illuminated windows in view.
Mostly what I saw was uninteresting, people eating, watching TV,
just sitting around. However, in one window in a house in the
next block, I lucked out. There, seen clearly through my scope,
was a woman taking off her clothes. At first, all I saw was her
back, just as she was unhooking her bra. Her dark hair had a few
streaks of gray, suggesting she was in her forties or fifties.
But when she stepped out of her panties, her tight ass was either
that of a younger woman or of one who worked hard to keep fit.
When she turned to put her underwear down, she revealed modest-
sized, firm breasts that barely sagged at all. Her nipples and
areolas were small and pink. She quickly turned back, so I
didn't get much of a view of her snatch, except to note the dark
thatch there. I also saw enough of her face to realize that I
didn't know her. She disappeared from view soon after and,
though I peered through the scope for the rest of the evening, I
didn't see her again.

Nevertheless, that was enough encouragement to get me
peering through the scope every night. I saw her a number of
times after that, mostly dressed, but partially or fully naked
often enough so I didn't get discouraged. I became familiar with
her ass and tits, and even had a few opportunities to focus on
her cunt. When she wasn't there, I searched the rest of the
neighborhood. Not often but occasionally, I caught other
neighbors without their clothes. I had a special thrill when I
caught someone I knew.

With these successes, I began to upgrade my technology. I
got a better scope, with zoom capability. From a local
surveillance store (which I'll call Spies R Us), I bought a
parabolic microphone so I could pick up distant conversations.
With that, when it was warm and windows were open, I was able to
hear the sounds of lovemaking coming from darkened rooms. I was
intrigued by some of the squeals I heard coming from the bedrooms
of people who had always struck me as being rather reserved.

All of this meant that I was spending more time at night in
my shop, peering, listening, or just searching the catalog of
Spies R Us looking for better ways to observe my neighbors, and
of course less time with my wife. I had become fascinated with
the comings and goings of my neighbors' private lives.

So when Ed and Irmgard asked me to water their house plants
and look after their house while they were gone on their
vacation, I leapt at the opportunity to do some first-hand
snooping. Ed and Irmgard were our next-door neighbors, their
townhouse sharing a wall with ours, a wall of my shop. We didn't
know them too well, just to talk to when we were working in our
yards or, occasionally, to give them a lift or get one from them.
Ed was a jogging nut, I'd frequently see him running around the
neighborhood, but still had only an average physique. Irmgard
was a different story. She was of amazonian proportions. With
her big, blond teutonic build, she could have been one of the
Valkyrie. She was tall, well built, and quite buxom, with long
blond hair that she usually wore in one long braid down her back.
Just the idea of being free, under the cover of looking after
their plants, to rummage through her underwear, to actually see
and touch the material that supported those magnificent breasts,
that encased that superb ass, got me tremendously excited. I
tried to conceal my enthusiasm while Ed gave me the keys and
instructions for watering the various plants.

The first day they were gone, I began a careful search
through their house. I wanted to be careful to leave everything
exactly as I found it, and to look at everything else while
saving Irmgard's underwear for last, so my search was a slow one.
And, of course, I did have to water the damn plants. It took me
a good part of the day to decide that they had no polaroid
pictures, no videotapes of themselves in the nude, no interesting
letters, no fascinating secrets of any kind anywhere in the
house, at least outside of their bedroom. Finally, in mid-
afternoon, I entered the bedroom.

It was a dark, solid bedroom. The curtains and bedspread
were deep burgundy, and made of a heavy material. The wooden
molding was dark oak. The solemn feeling that it gave was very
different than that of the light, airy bedroom my wife had
designed for us. I felt as if I had to walk on tip toes through
the thick oriental rug. If I had expected to find vibrators or
dildos in their night tables, I was to be disappointed. Nothing
but tissues, birth control pills, a flashlight, and other
uninteresting items.

Irmgard's underwear drawer was also disappointing. It
contained only plain cotton bras and panties, generally white.
While I did learn that her bra size was 38C, there was scant joy
in seeing, feeling, or smelling those un-enticing plain items.
Still, I continued my search. Finally, at the back of a shelf in
her closet, I discovered a box. In it were the items I was
looking for: split-crotch red, transparent panties with black
lace trim; matching bras with holes at the center of each cup, so
they provided support but still let her bare nipples show
through; transparent teddies; and more. In short, she appeared
to have a good sampling of Frederick's of Hollywood fare in that
concealed box in her closet.

This discovery only increased my desires. I had to find
some way to actually see her in those clothes, to see Ed sucking
her nipples through one of those bras, to see him sticking his
fingers up through the split crotch. But this posed a problem.
Because their house was next to ours, there was no way I could
see into any of their windows, even if they left the shades up
and the lights on. So, after making sure that there were no
signs of my incursions into her costume cache, I went back to my
shop to see if the Spies R Us catalog offered any help.

I quickly discovered that, through the wonders of fiber
optics and miniaturization, I could easily put a video bug in
their bedroom that they would never discover. I would have to
make a small hole in their wall, which I could easily conceal in
the molding. The camera would look like just another nail in the
molding. Since their bedroom was just on the other side of the
wall from my shop, I only had to make a small hole in the wall to
feed the cable through with its miniature camera. The cable
could be removed whenever it wasn't it use, so even if they tore
the molding down, all they would find was a small hole in the
molding. I got an erection just thinking about what I'd be able
to see.

I spent the next several days buying the equipment, making
the holes, installing the camera and cable, and making sure there
was no dust or plaster in their bedroom that would reveal my
efforts. By the time they returned at the end of the week,
everything was in place and I had thoroughly tested the system.
The optics left a good deal to be desired, but they would be good
enough. On a video monitor in my shop, I got a respectable image
of practically all of their bedroom, even under low-light
conditions. I was all set to watch.

It was only moderately difficult not to feel embarrassed as
they thanked me profusely for caring for their house plants. I
couldn't wait for the evening. Even if they didn't fuck
immediately, I would still get to see Irmgard's magnificent body
when she undressed.
But that night I was to be disappointed. Once she had
stripped to her plain cotton underwear, Irmgard stood with her
back to me and unhooked her bra. Without turning around, she
slipped a flannel nightgown over her head. Only when the
nightgown completely covered her did she remove her panties.
Even Ed managed to get into his pajamas without revealing more
than a fleeting glance at his bare ass. Once in bed, Irmgard
turned on her side away from Ed and went to sleep. A few minutes
later, Ed climbed into his side of the bed and turned the light
off. I saw nothing.

Night after night, essentially the same scene was repeated.
They never spent more than a moment getting into their night
clothes. They might as well have undressed in the closet. And
they never fucked. What kind of a life was that? How could Ed
just ignore that voluptuous woman? How could a body like that
not require servicing? They must fuck sometime, I thought.
Maybe during the day. I don't know what kind of jobs they had,
but often one or both of them was home during the day. I would
have to keep my eye on them all day long.

I spent more and more time in my shop, trying to get my work
done while keeping one eye on the monitor attached to my spy
camera in their room. Of course, I now saw even less of my wife.
It was only after about four days of watching that I finally saw
something, but it certainly wasn't what I expected.

In the middle of the afternoon, at a time when I was pretty
sure Irmgard wasn't home, Ed walked into the bedroom rubbing his
crotch. He sort of wandered around aimlessly, running his hand
up and down over what was clearly a hard-on. Then he pull all
the heavy curtains shut, evidently under the mistaken impression
that this would grant him privacy. He next stopped in front of
their big mirror and stood there rubbing his prick though his
pants. After a while, he stopped rubbing and dropped his pants
and underpants. His erection stood out stiff in front of him,
angled upwards. Because of the inferior optics in my system, I
didn't have a great view, but his prick appeared to be of about
average size, perhaps a mite smaller. It was soon encased in his
fist, which slid up and down on it.

At first he seemed to be posing in front of the mirror, as
if to see what a man jerking off looked like. Gradually, he
seemed to become more aware of the sensations he was generating
and less concerned with how he looked. His eyes, as well as I
could tell, appeared to become less focussed. His mouth opened
slightly. His fist moved faster. His knees bent slightly as he
focussed his efforts on his prick. In another moment he was
coming. He quickly brought his other hand up to catch the
spurting come, barely preventing it from falling on the rug. He
continued milking his cock, trying to squeeze out the last drops
of come. Then he disappeared from view, evidently into the
bathroom, because when I next saw him he was washed and dressed.

After all that period of sexual inactivity that I had
witnessed, I could understand why he needed to jerk off. But why
jerk off when every night he had that marvel of teutonic splendor
just inches away in his bed? I didn't understand it.

Two days later, in the early afternoon, I finally got a
clue. This time I had seen Ed drive off so I knew he wasn't
home. Irmgard came into the bedroom. In full view of me, she
took off her dress and her uninspiring cotton underwear. There
she stood. Those magnificent pendulous breasts had large, dark
areolas and proportionately large nipples. Her body, while large
and well padded, was nevertheless in marvelous shape, with a
relatively flat stomach, and hips and thighs that I wanted to
dive into. Like most blonds, she had comparatively little pubic
hair, just a row running up from her cunt like a mohawk haircut.
Her ass, while huge, was solid, something you could really grab
hold of. Oh..., that one view of her body was worth the days of
watching and waiting!

She went into the bathroom and, a short time later, came out
toweling herself off. She had evidently showered. She went to
her closet and took down her box of sexy underwear. In a few
minutes, the split-crotch lace panties and the open-nipple bra
were caressing her body. I would have died to trade places with
them. Then she carefully put everything away, straightened up
her bed, and stepped into a pair of high-healed slippers and a
lace peignoir that barely concealed anything. She stood in front
of the mirror combing her hair out, letting it flow freely down
her back.

Then she suddenly looked up, looked at the clock by her bed,
and left the room, as if the phone or doorbell had rung. About
five minutes later, she returned with her arms around someone.
She was kissing him as they backed into the room. I couldn't see
who it was, but it clearly wasn't Ed. A few minutes later I got
a clear view. It was Roberto. Roberto lived on the next block.
He occasionally came around raising funds for some good cause, or
trying to get signatures for some petition or volunteers to help
in some worthwhile endeavor. I had once helped him and others
clean up a nearby park. He was tall, taller than Irmgard, but
thinner. He had a long narrow face and long, curly dark hair.

What he was doing now with Irmgard struck me as a very
worthwhile endeavor for which I'd gladly volunteer. He was
running his hands up and down her back, paying particular
attention to her ass, while she was unbuttoning first his shirt
and then his pants. Soon she had freed him of these items while
he had managed to step out of his shoes. He stood now in only
his socks and his bikini briefs, from which his stiff prick
peeked out over the top. In a moment those items of clothes were
gone. Now, completely naked he turned to Irmgard's peignoir.
Slowly, he removed it from her shoulders. Pressing his hands
along her back, he lowered it more and more as she let it slip
off her arms. As he lowered it past her hands and let it drop,
his mouth came down to the level of her nipples. His tongue shot
out and began to lick around an areola. For a moment I could see
the nipple grow, but then it disappeared into his mouth.
Irmgard's head was now thrown back, her hair flowing halfway
down her back. One of her hands pressed his head to her breast,
the other groped for his prick, which stood out in front of him,
with a slight downward bend. It was clearly larger than Ed's (or
mine, for that matter). Irmgard slid her hand over it, wrapping
her fingers around its base, then bringing them up to his bulging
cock-head, then down again. All the while, Roberto was sucking
away at her nipple.

But he wanted more than the tip of her breast. He wanted it
all, in its full unshackled glory. His hands fumbled with the
bra snap. Then his mouth released the nipple just long enough to
free her breasts of the bra. In an instant, his head was back at
her nipple, sinking into the softness of that magnificent tit.

Now, while Irmgard continued to stroke his cock, Roberto's
hand sought the opening in her panties. She spread her legs to
assist him in his search. He quickly arrived at his goal and I
could see his fingers moving back and forth in her pussy. They
soon glistened with her juices.

All this time I gazed at my video monitor spellbound. My
own stiff prick had been furiously pressing against my pants, so
I had opened my pants and released it. As Irmgard stroked
Roberto's prick, I stroked mine. When Roberto began delving in
her cunt, I lost control and came. I was to come again before
they were finished.

Now Roberto gently pushed her back onto the burgundy
bedspread and pulled her panties off. She spread her wonderful,
columnar thighs and he buried his head between them. Oh, I
thought, to have your head entrapped by those thighs, one could
easily suffocate. What a way to go! Somehow, Roberto was not
suffocated. His head bobbed up and down. I could see flashes of
this tongue going into and around her cunt. Irmgard's head
thrashed from side to side. She flung her arms out, then brought
them in and began to pull Roberto up onto her body - that body!
Roberto edged his way up, across the nirvana of her breasts,
until he could sink his cock into her cunt. Then, as she wrapped
arms and legs around him, he began to pump his ass up and down,
driving his cock in and out of her.

I can't imagine what pulled my attention away from the
action on the bed, but I suddenly noticed that there was someone
just visible to me, standing outside their bedroom door. There,
motionless and rigid, as if turned to stone, was Ed. He had an
expression of horror on his face. How long had he been standing
there? He must have returned unexpectedly and accidently come
upon this vivid evidence of Irmgard's unfaithfulness. I watched
him for a moment but, as he didn't move, soon returned my
attention to the people on the bed who very much were moving.

Slowly at first, then faster and faster, Roberto was
thrusting his pelvis into Irmgard's. She seemed to grip him
tighter into her all-encompassing embrace, forcing his head
further into the soft pillow of her breasts. I thought I'd lose
sight of him. Then her eyes closed, her mouth opened, she flung
her arms out and then back around him and began to come. It was
like a earthquake. The whole world seemed to shake. This was
followed by a series of incredible aftershocks that I thought
would bring the house down, or at least crush Roberto. Finally,
Roberto gave one long thrust and, raising his head and clenching
his jaws, he came. Watching my monitor, I came for the second
time. When I finally looked back at the doorway, Ed was gone.
I couldn't believe what I had witnessed. Had Ed known all
along? From his expression, it certainly didn't look like it.
Where had he gone? The thought that he might have gone to get a
weapon froze me with terror. Perhaps he decided to slink away
silently and deal with it later. I certainly hoped so.

Meanwhile, the lovers had fallen into a sweaty heap on the
bed. Eventually Roberto rolled off and they got up, evidently to
shower. While they did, I cleaned up the mess I had made and
began to think how I could improve the optics to get a better
image. Too much had been blurred, too many details hadn't been
visible. I wanted optics that would crawl in there with them.

They returned from their showers toweling each other off.
They dressed, Irmgard once again in her usual drab underwear and
her everyday clothing. The Frederick's of Hollywood outfit went
back into the closet, and they walked out of the bedroom arm in
arm. That night it was the usual undressing act with nothing
showing and into bed without touching, as if nothing had happened
that day. It was the same as it had been all the time I had been
watching them. If Ed had let Irmgard know that he had witnessed
the action, there was no indication.

I wondered how many Roberto visits I had missed before I
started watching during the day. And, now that Ed knew of them,
I wondered what would happen next. Never in a thousand years
would I have anticipated what actually was going to happen.

I stayed up late fussing with the optics. I wanted them
good enough so I could videotape any more such afternoon goings
on. It was probably 3 a.m. before I had improved them to my
satisfaction. So as not to wake my wife, I slept on the cot in
my shop, where I often slept when I had to work late or, lately,
when I was spying on the neighbors. In the morning, I grabbed a
cup of coffee with my wife, barely talking to her, and returned
to my shop. I wanted to check out the optics one last time, fine
tune the system, and hook up the VCR with a blank tape so I'd be
ready to catch the next act. Within an hour or two, that act
started.

The first thing I saw on the monitor was Ed, wearing a
loosely tied bathrobe, at the bedroom door. He had his arm
around someone, who I couldn't make out because his body was in
the way. Clearly, however, it was not anyone as tall as Irmgard.
I turned to start up the VCR, and when I turned back to the
monitor I experienced the shock of my life. The person with him,
...in his arms in his bedroom,...was my wife!
They sat down on the burgundy bed with their backs to me,
arms around each other, his head resting on her shoulder, his
face nested in her neck. She was running her hand up and down
his back while he gripped her tightly. Then, as I watched in
utter dismay, she seemed to ease him backward onto the bed and
lower her head to his abdomen. When he was finally lying flat on
the bed, I could clearly see her face. It was at his crotch and
she had his entire prick in her mouth. None of it was showing.
My wife!

What could I do? In plain view of me she was blowing my
next door neighbor. She raised her head slowly so I could see
the base of his cock. Then further so all of his stiff rod was
visible except for the cock-head, which she retained in her
mouth. Then her head moved up and down on it. I wanted to shout
at her. I wanted to run in and stop her. But I was trapped. It
was like the military intelligence that intercepts the enemy's
signals during the war but can't act on the information they get
without revealing how they got it. I couldn't run in and stop
them without them knowing I had bugged Ed's bedroom. I wouldn't
even be able to say anything to my wife later without
acknowledging that the long hours I spent "working" in my shop,
to her neglect, were actually spent spying. There was nothing I
could do.

While these thoughts raced through my mind, Ed's hands had
begun to race over my wife's body. They were massaging her
breasts through the sweat shirt she was wearing. Then they were
under it, pulling it off. She released his prick just long
enough to pull the sweat shirt over her head. Then she took it
back into her mouth while his hands groped at her now naked tits.
His thumb pressed at her nipple, pushing it around and around.
Then his index finger joined his thumb and together they pulled
the nipple, rolling it between them. Now he raised his head to
her tit and began to suckle at it. She let go of his prick again
and struggled out of her jeans and panties. Still suckling, Ed
brought his hand to her naked cunt and his fingers worked in and
out of it. The juices from it shining on his hand were clearly
visible on my monitor.

"No!" I cried, but it had no effect on them. Ed now had my
wife on her back and his mouth was moving down from her breast to
her pussy. My wife lay back, one arm thrown across her eyes,
while he began licking her clit. Around and around his tongue
went. Her hips began to rock from side to side, pushing her cunt
up at his tongue, trying to capture it. Her hips were soon
successful in their efforts; Ed was now burying his tongue deeply
into her twat, and his hands were grasping at her tits. My wife
thrust her pelvis up at his mouth, trying to force him even
deeper into her juicy recesses.

Then, as I watched, he climbed on the bed between her legs.

"He's going to fuck my wife!" I screamed, but only I could
hear my forlorn cry. Oblivious to it, Ed was slowly burying his
rigid tool into my wife's ready cunt. I became aware that,
despite the agony this was causing me, I had a raging hard-on.
The scene before me had engendered in me not only pain, but also
an immense excitement. I opened my pants with tears rolling down
from my eyes as Ed slid his prick in and out of my wife's pussy.
Her hands grabbed at him, pulling him to her, then scratching and
clawing at his back. Almost without consciousness, my fist
stroked my cock up and down as I watched their wild fuck. "What
are you doing?" I said to her image on the monitor, but I knew
full well what she was doing. And while she was humping away,
thrusting her groin up to meet his downward strokes, I was
stroking away at my own cock and crying all the time,
simultaneously excited and dismayed.

Through my tears I could see the tremors running through her
body. I could see her body twitch and spasm, even as my prick
began to spurt. I could see her orgasm torturing her body while
the rest of my come dribbled down my hand. "Oh no," I cried as
Ed thrust his pelvis one last time against my wife's cunt and
convulsions racked his body. I sat there, my hand and leg
covered with come, tears pouring down my face, while he slowly
pulled his still oozing prick out of her and she reached down to
squeeze the last drops from it. I was no longer looking at the
monitor. My eyes were buried in my come-covered hands and all I
could do was cry.

By the time I finally stopped crying and looked up, they
were no longer in sight. I had cleaned myself up and was zipping
up my pants when I realized that the VCR was still running. I
had taped the whole thing and now had a videotape of my wife
being fucked by my neighbor! I rewound the tape, hid it, and
then sat there, staring off in space for hours.

I finally managed to pull myself together. Except for a cup
of coffee, I hadn't eaten since the night before. I left my shop
and went to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. My wife was
there, calmly straightening up after her lunch. How could she be
so calm after such a momentous scene? I couldn't bring myself to
say anything to her, so I quickly made the sandwich and brought
it back to my shop. It took me several hours to eat it. Each
bite seemed dry in my mouth and wouldn't go down. Between bites,
I stared off into space again.

Eventually, I finished the sandwich and continued staring.
Then, without realizing how it happened, I found myself holding
the video tape in my hand. I didn't want to look at it. I
wanted to destroy it and, with it, the memory of the events
recorded on it. I wanted to destroy the events themselves. But
some perverse power forced me to put it in the VCR and press the
play button. Was it the desire to torture myself or was it the
same excitement I had felt when watching the original events that
led me to watch the video reconstruction of them?

The effect this viewing produced on me was the same as that
produced by the original events. I again experienced the dual
emotions of painful agony and erotic excitement. Before the tape
was finished, I was again sitting there crying and jerking off.

This sequence of events was to repeat itself over and over
during the next several weeks. I tried to busy myself with my
work. I repaired TVs, I delivered the repaired ones and picked
up the broken ones. I fussed over the repairs, fine-tuning the
TVs far more than I had ever done. I avoided my wife as much as
possible, sleeping in my shop, eating on the run. And yet, I
would often find myself sitting there stationary, staring into
space. And sooner or later, every single day, I would take out
the tape and play it. I would then feel the emptiness in the pit
of my stomach, the adrenalin would flow through my body, and the
blood would pulsate through my prick. It always ended with my
hand covered with come and my eyes blinded by tears.

I saw no way out.

The End of Part I

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Part II - Her Version

I don't really know how to do this. I said I'd write this
after my husband convinced me that it would be good for us to
work it out of our systems, and I guess I don't really want you
to hear his version without hearing mine, but this is all very
strange to me to be writing to people I don't even know and who
don't know me and telling them about intimate details in my life.
I don't know whether this will work. All I can do is try. Here
goes.

You've already heard what my husband has to say. If you
haven't, you better go back and read Part I because what I write
probably won't make a lot of sense to you without knowing what he
wrote. I'm not going to repeat things he said, but there are
things he didn't know about that you need to know. And I
certainly saw things differently than he did. Maybe what we
really need from Spies R Us is a device that lets you see things
through other people's eyes. Maybe that would make it easier to
understand what's going on with other people and maybe we
wouldn't mess things up so much then.

One thing you need to know about my husband. He's a lovely
man and I love him, but he's a nut. What I mean is, he's a video
nut. I know that's the way he earns his living, but really he
earns his living that way because he's a video nut. He has to
have every video device there is. I don't know what half the
things are we've got around the house. I can barely work the VCR
(I can't set the timer). But he's got big TVs and little TVs and
VCRs and camcorders and I don't know what all. It's the
camcorder I want to tell you about. He's had several, as newer
and better models came out he had to get the latest gizmo. But
the thing is, he had to use them. What I mean is, he used them
on us when we were making love. He set up a camcorder on a
tripod with some sort of remote control or timer or something and
he videotaped us in the act. He kept adding to the tape with
every new camcorder he got, saying that each successive taping
would be better than the last because of the new gizmos on the
camcorders. I don't know about that, but he sure made a raunchy
videotape of us. I didn't want to do it with a camera pointing
at us, but you know after a while you don't pay attention to the
camera anymore, you forget it's there. At first he needed lots
of lights and that was distracting, but with the newer models we
could dim the lights and he still got a good picture.

I was always afraid someone else would see that tape, so I
kept it hidden. But every once in a while, he'd pull it out and
play in on the big TV and I must say it got me horny.
Pornographic pictures don't usually do that to me, but seeing
people you know, especially yourself, having a good time is
different. It got to be that sometimes if one of us was in the
mood they'd put the tape in the VCR and say, "Let's watch a
videotape." Sort of like Pavlov's dog, just those words would
make me wet.

Another thing I have to tell you is, he didn't know it, but
I have a key to his shop. He was always locking himself in there
and I was afraid he'd have an accident or a stroke or something
and I wouldn't be able to get in there to help him, so once, when
he was sick, I secretly had a duplicate key made, which I kept
hidden. Until these events, I never used it.

Anyway, what I want to tell you about is this period when I
began to see less and less of my husband. He'd lock himself into
his shop until late at night and since I usually had to go to
work I couldn't stay up to all hours of the night, so I'd go to
bed and he'd be sleeping when I got up, so I didn't even get to
talk to him. Sometimes he'd still be in his shop, sleeping on
his cot, so I wouldn't even SEE him. And when I'd come home at
night he might be locked in his shop or maybe come out and grab a
quick bite and disappear again.

I didn't know what he was doing in there, because he didn't
was getting more business when I wasn't around or maybe he was
just playing with his high-priced toys. Frankly, I was getting
lonely. It's nice to have someone to talk to and unwind with at
the end of the day. And I like waking up together so the first
thing you do is cuddle a little before you get up. But this was
like he wasn't even there. And of course, I have a sex drive
like everyone else and he sure wasn't satisfying it. The less we
saw of each other, the hornier I got. The few times we were
actually together I'd give him a few hints but he seemed to have
his mind elsewhere. So then I'd slip that videotape of us in the
VCR and said "Let's watch some videotape," but he'd find some
excuse like "I have to get that job done" or something, so
nothing came of my attempts. I was beginning to think maybe he
had a mistress who was wearing him out during the day, but even
when I stayed home all day (sometimes I worked at home) and he
was there all day it didn't make any difference. So the upshot
of this was that I was feeling lonely and unwanted and horny and
deprived and resentful.

It was while this was going on that the business with Eddie
happened. Eddie, as you know, was our next door neighbor. In
our townhouse complex, they deliver the mail to boxes down by the
street. Occasionally I'd pick up the mail and discover that
they'd mistakenly put some of a neighbor's mail in our box. If I
didn't notice this until I was back in the house, it was easier
just to bring it to the neighbor rather than go back to the mail
boxes. And besides, it's always nice to talk to your neighbors.
So on this particular Saturday morning that I want to tell you
about, I found some mail for Eddie and Irmgard and went over to
their house to give it to them. I could see Irmgard's car was
gone, but Eddie's was still there, so I knew he'd probably be
home. I rang the bell and no one answered at first, but I
thought maybe he was in the bathroom or something so I rang it a
few more times. When he still didn't answer, I tried to slip the
mail under the door, so I was kind of embarrassed when Eddie
opened the door and found me bent over at his feet with the
letters in my hand.

I started to stammer my apology when I looked at him. He
looked so terribly sad. He was bare foot and wearing a bathrobe
that was barely tied around him. He hadn't shaved and he had
been crying. His eyes were red and wet, and he just stood there
looking at me and sort of snuffling, like he couldn't really stop
crying. "What's the matter, Eddie?" I asked. This just seemed
to make him cry more. I felt so sorry for him, and a little
embarrassed for him to be standing at his doorway like that. It
was bad enough for me to see him like this, all the other
neighbors didn't need to see. So I put my arm around him and
sort of led him inside, saying things like you'd say to a child.
"There, there, Eddie, I'm sure it's not so bad. Come sit down
and I'll get you a drink of water and maybe I can help." I
didn't really have anything in mind except it pains me to see a
grown man cry because I know what a big deal it is for men to cry
in front of other people, so I know it must really hurt when they
do it.

I got him some water and he stood there drinking it and
snuffling some more and eventually managed to calm down enough to
finally say something. "It's Ir...Ir...Irmgard," he stuttered,
"she's...." "She's what? Is she hurt? What is it?" "She's
sleeping with another man," he eventually got out. "Oh, no," I
confidently said, "I'm sure she isn't. Not Irmgard." Irmgard
was such a nice, friendly person who seemed to be deeply in love
with her husband, I just couldn't imagine her doing anything like
that. "Oh yes she is," Eddie insisted, "I saw her doing it!"
The last statement was a such cry of agony that I couldn't doubt
it.

Well, the upshot of it was that he told me in fits and
starts that he had come home early the day before (as you already
know) and when he went into the bedroom, there was Irmgard making
love to Roberto. (Roberto!, I thought. Ugh. I found him to be
one of the least attractive men around. If I was going to be
unfaithful, it certainly wouldn't have been with Roberto.)
Anyway, Eddie hadn't known what to do so he had quietly left and
just driven around. When he finally got home, Irmgard greeted
him in her usual way, as if nothing had happened. He couldn't
bring himself to say anything to her. It was as if not talking
about it could somehow make it go away, make it not have happened
in the first place. I knew the feeling because sometimes I don't
want to talk about bad things that have happened to me. But of
course it had happened. And then he realized that he and Irmgard
hadn't made love in weeks, even though he had wanted to, so maybe
this thing with Roberto had been going on all that time and
that's why Irmgard didn't show any interest in him.

As he told me this, he started crying all over again. I
didn't know what to do. You can imagine how I felt with this
grown man crying like that. I thought the best thing to do would
be to get him to his bed and let him lie down. I couldn't think
what to say. What do you say to a man who has come home and
found his wife in bed with another man? I certainly didn't know,
but I felt so sorry for him that I couldn't leave him like this.
So I put my arm around him and helped him upstairs toward his
bedroom. He was so pitiful. He wrapped his arms around me and
held on as if I was his only source of security. That made it
difficult for us to walk up the stairs, but I didn't want to
deprive him of the little bit of comfort he was getting, so I
just sort of struggled along.

We finally got to his bedroom and I managed to get him
sitting down on the bed by sitting down with him. I was sort of
patting him on the back, saying things like "There, there," and
he was leaning against me, still sobbing and still holding on to
me, when I noticed that his robe had come open. He wasn't
wearing anything underneath it. But what really caught my eye
was his penis. It was the smallest penis I had ever seen on a
grown man, smaller than my thumb, peeking up at me all shrunken,
like a pink mushroom in a turtle-neck sweater.

If I had felt sorry for Eddie when he told me about Irmgard
and Roberto, I really felt sorry for him now. I know what a big
deal men make about their penises. It's like all their pride of
manhood comes from the size of that organ. To have his wife
unfaithful AND to have a tiny penis must have left poor Eddie
with absolutely no self respect, and then to have me see him
break down and cry would just make it worse.

Now I have to tell you what emotions were driving me at that
time. First, as I've said, was a tremendous feeling of pity for
poor Eddie. The fates were treating him so badly. But on top of
that was a different feeling. I couldn't help but notice how
cute that little penis was. It was adorable, the cutest little
thing. I just wanted to kiss it all over, like you feel when you
see a cute little baby. You just have to hold it and love it.
So there was pity for Eddie and an innocent love for that small
cuddly, benign-looking piece of flesh. But in addition, there
was something rather more shameful. Remember, I had been feeling
horny for a week or so because my husband wouldn't come near me.
All of a sudden here was a man near me, a nice man with his arms
around me, a man who was almost naked and who had the most
adorable little penis, and a man who I felt so sorry for.

It just seemed to be the most natural thing in the world for
me to ease him back on the bed and bend my head down and take
that little penis in my mouth. I just wanted to hold it there,
just to cuddle it a bit in my mouth. It seemed like nothing more
than an innocent way of giving Eddie a little self confidence,
just like you hug a child to give them the strength to face the
world.

Well, of course it seems stupid now when I think about it,
but it came as a surprise when it began to grow in my mouth, as
if someone were blowing up the balloon. But the real surprise
was how much it grew. It didn't take long for it to fill my
mouth, and when I pulled my head away slightly it STILL filled my
mouth. I didn't want to pull completely away suddenly because I
thought that would just be another blow to Eddie's self esteem.
Now, however, it was getting hard and it wasn't so innocent
anymore. And it wasn't so small anymore either. It was really
expanded, more than I would have thought possible. Once it was
hard, it was a full-sized penis. But it was too late to stop.
Here I was, a horny woman who hadn't been embraced in weeks, and
I found myself with a lovely erect penis in my mouth. I did the
natural thing, I sucked it and licked its head and along its
shaft and moved my mouth up and down on it. After the last few
weeks it felt wonderful.

And it felt just as natural when Eddie began to respond.
His hand caressed my body, my back, my sides, my breasts. Soon
they were under my sweat shirt and I wasn't wearing a bra, so I
could feel his bare fingers squeezing my breasts and rubbing the
nipples. My nipples are normally very sensitive. Most of the
time, all you have to do is rub them a few time and a tingling
sensation runs through my body, down to my crotch, and I'm yours.
After weeks of enforced celibacy, when Eddie's fingers found my
nipples I was gone. There was no longer any pity involved, or
any feelings of innocent cuddliness. It was pure lust. He had
touched my button and I was on fire.

I let go of his erection just long enough to get my sweat
shirt over my head and then I returned to that lovely organ with
a vengeance. His hands were all over my breasts, kneading them,
caressing, pinching, and squeezing my nipples, while I worked my
head up and down on what had grown into a stiff, man-sized penis.
And just as Eddie's penis had recovered its manhood, so had
Eddie. He was no longer the sobbing victim. Now he was taking
the lead, and he did the thing best calculated to drive me wild.
He took a nipple into his mouth and sucked on it. He sucked out
of me all the loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted that
my husband's neglect of me had induced.

I had to get out of the rest of my clothes. I stood up and
pulled my jeans and panties off in one motion and he never
stopped sucking. There was nothing coy about me now, I wanted
him in my long-vacant vagina. It didn't take long for Eddie's
hands to find my vulva. His fingers caressed my labia, which
were swollen and soaking wet by this time. He rubbed my clitoris
and I wanted to scream. Finally his fingers invaded my vagina.
That felt so wonderful now, I had almost forgotten the feeling
you get when you have something hard rubbing inside you.

I can't really tell you what happened next. What followed
were periods of consciousness and periods where I just floated
away. I was on may back and Eddie was running his tongue around
my clitoris. I wanted that tongue in me. I pushed my pelvis
toward his mouth, trying to capture his tongue, to drive it deep
into me. Then it was in me, but it wasn't his tongue. It was
his penis. What had been a tiny innocent little button was now a
full-grown, hard erection, plenty big enough to satisfy me, and
satisfying me was just what it was doing. He was sliding it in
and out of me and then plunging it in and out and I was pushing
up to get him and wriggling and groaning and then a rumbling
started somewhere deep inside me and I was shaking and trembling
and now I was a roaring volcano. It was if all the tension that
had built up within me during the period of enforced abstinence
suddenly came rushing out. I felt like I had burst.

Somewhere, buried in my orgasm, Eddie also had his, because
the next thing I knew we were both lying next to each other on
his bed with our breathing and pulse rates slowly coming back to
normal and semen dripping out of the end of his now shrinking
penis. I lay there for a few minutes, relaxing in a sort of
ecstacy, when all of a sudden it hit me. I realized what I had
done. With a loud groan, I grabbed my clothes up and raced out
of the bedroom and down the stairs. Eddie followed me, dragging
his bathrobe behind him. We stood in the front hallway, trying
to get our clothes back on, with me crying "What have I done?"
and Eddie crying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

I managed to pull myself together enough to check in the
mirror that I looked ok and to say "It's ok, Eddie, it wasn't
your fault. It's ok." And then I ran out of his house.

For once, it was a good thing that my husband was in his
shop. I managed to shower and remove any signs of my terrible
indiscretion, and even to get some sort of lunch down, before he
came out for a quick lunch.

What followed then was the worst period of my life. At
first, I was glad that my husband and I barely saw each other so
I didn't have to face him with the guilt showing in my face. But
then I realized that I had to see him, to tell him what happened
and how and why it happened, to beg for forgiveness, and to work
things out somehow. I couldn't stand this almost complete
isolation from each other. He wasn't sleeping in our bed at all
these days. We were essentially strangers. I didn't want that
anymore. I wanted things to be like they were during the early
years of our marriage.

About a week or two after Eddie and I had made love, I ran
into him at the mail boxes. I didn't want to talk to him, but he
came up to me and said, "I want you to know how sorry I am about
what happened between us. But you don't have to worry about
seeing me anymore. Irmgard and I broke up. She moved out last
week and by next week I'll be moving out, too. We've already
sold the house. I'm going back to my home town. I just have to
get things ready for settlement with the young couple that's
buying the house. I'm really sorry that I let things get out of
hand. I was feeling so sorry for myself that I didn't think of
you. Goodbye." And he walked away before I could think of how
to respond.

I had hoped that Eddie's moving away would make it easier to
tell my husband, but I never saw him enough to start a
conversation. I couldn't just blurt out "I was unfaithful to
you" as he was heading out the door. I arranged my work so I
could work at home, figuring I'd have a better chance of seeing
him. I needed us to sit down calmly and talk seriously. But I
could never find a time to do that. He simply was never
available. What was he doing? He was either locked in his shop
or was out of the house. It felt as if somehow he knew what I
had done and this was his reaction to it. Of course, I knew
there was no way he could know, but I had this terrible feeling.

Somehow I had to get back together with my husband. I
needed him in a hundred different ways. I had to tell him, to
explain, to beg his forgiveness. I swore that what happened with
Eddie would never happen again, but I was afraid, afraid of my
own body. The longer the time away from my husband, the more my
body would crave some attention. If another opportunity arouse,
would I be able to withstand the urgings of my body? I knew I
must, but I also knew that I had do everything I could to avoid
such a possibility by getting back with my husband as soon as
possible.

Finally, I just had to know what he was doing in his shop.
The next time he left the house, I got out my key and went into
the shop. I don't know what I expected to find. Somehow I felt
that I would have some great revelation as soon as I got in
there. I was disappointed. There was the usual clutter of TVs,
VCRs, and other equipment, but nothing that would reveal to me
the secret of his isolation. The only thing unusual was, on one
of his work benches, a catalog from a company called Spies R Us.
That name struck me as sufficiently peculiar that I started
flipping through the pages. Suddenly, there in front of me, was
just what I would need to unravel the mystery. It was a system
for seeing into another room. They advertised it for police and
scientists to use instead of a one-way mirror, even for parents
to monitor their babies without the clutter of a big camcorder.
The ad claimed that it was easy to use and could be bought with
or without installation.

I put the catalog back where I found it, locked up the shop,
and went to visit Spies R Us. The man there was very helpful.
He showed me how it worked, even let me turn on the store model
and try it out. He asked about how I wanted to use it and when I
told him it was to look inside a room in my own house without my
husband seeing me, he assured me that it would probably be a very
easy installation. He would set everything up beforehand and
then, anytime my husband was out, he could find a location, drill
the hole, and install the system in about a half hour or less. I
was so desperate that I bought the system then and there.
The next day, as soon as my husband went out, I called the
man at Spies R Us. He was able to come over immediately and,
true to his word, had the whole thing installed, hooked up to our
living room TV, and working in practically no time. We had
concocted an elaborate story about me smelling gas and him being
the gas man in case my husband returned while he was still there,
but we didn't need it. He was finished and gone long before my
husband returned. I was glad, because I didn't want to add to my
adultery by lying to my husband.

When he finally did return he, of course, went directly into
his shop. The minute I heard the lock catch, I turned on my
spying system. Now I would find out what he was doing in the
shop. But I found out nothing. I watched him for the rest of
the afternoon but all I saw was him fixing TVs or sitting and
staring apparently at nothing at all.

I made dinner, ate it, and cleaned up, all with one eye on
the TV, watching my husband doing nothing very revealing.
Finally, just as I was going to give up and go to bed, cursing
myself for wasting all that money, he did something different.
He took out a videotape from a cabinet and held it in his hand,
looking at it as if he could see the content of the tape by
staring at the cassette. Then he inserted it in a VCR and just
stood there, not turning it on. After about five minutes or so,
he finally reached forward to press a button on the VCR and began
watching a TV screen, which faced away from me.

At first I couldn't tell what he was doing next because he
was sort of turned away from me, but then it finally dawned on
me. He was masturbating. He must have put a pornographic
videotape on and he had opened his pants and was masturbating. I
had never seen him do that before, and at first I couldn't really
see. But then he changed his position slightly and there he was
in plain view stroking his fist up and down on his erect penis
with his eyes glued to the TV screen. Why was he doing that when
I was twenty feet away?

Then I noticed the most surprising thing of all. While he
was watching that videotape, while he was masturbating, he was
crying. I could clearly see tears running down his face. It was
the strangest combination of actions I could imagine. Finally,
he reached his orgasm, stopped the videotape and put it away,
wiped up the semen and the tears, lay down on his cot, and turned
off the lights. I went to bed that night thoroughly perplexed.
Now I knew what he was doing in the shop, but it made no sense to
me at all.
I lay awake half the night thinking about the scene I had
witnessed. Finally, I decided that there must be something on
that videotape to explain it. I had to see the tape.

The following morning, I waited until he left and then went
into his shop and straight to the cabinet to get the videotape.
At first, when I opened the cabinet, I didn't see any videotapes.
Then I realized that the tape I was looking for had been tucked
away behind some equipment. It was an ordinary looking
videotape, like the kind we had for taping TV programs. It had
no label on it. I slipped it into the VCR and started playing
it.

Suddenly I got the shock of my life. There on the screen
was Eddie's bedroom and coming into the room were Eddie and me!
In a flash, I understood everything. The same Spies R Us device
that I was using to spy on my husband, my husband had used to spy
on Eddie and Irmgard and he had caught me and Eddie in the act.
No wonder he acted as if he knew. He did know! No wonder he
avoided me. No wonder that videotape produced such a strange
affect on him. What was I going to do now?, I wondered, as I
watched my image on the videotape taking Eddie's penis in its
mouth.

I didn't have much time, my husband might be coming back any
minute now. Quickly, I ran back to our living room and found the
videotape he had made of the two of us making love in happier
days. I peeled the label off it, so it looked just like the one
he had made of Eddie and me, and switched the two tapes. In
another two minutes, I was back in the living room, the shop was
locked, and everything was exactly as it had been except for the
fact that the tape in the shop cabinet was not of me and Eddie
but of me and my husband. Now, with my heart beating so loud I
could almost hear it, I sat there waiting for my husband to
return, and trying to imagine what would happen.

After a while, he returned and, of course, he went directly
into his shop. I turned on my spying system and waited. There
seemed to be a hole in the bottom of my stomach. My pulsed
raced. This was it, one way or another. When he saw that tape
he would know that I had been in his shop, that I knew about his
tape, that I knew he had spied on me, that I knew that he had
watched Eddie thrusting his stiff penis into me while I gave him
my full and passionate encouragement. I had crossed my Rubicon.
How would my husband react? What happened next was going to
determine what happened to our marriage. Was it to follow the
same road as that of Eddie and Irmgard, or was there a different
direction for us?

But, of course, instead of watching the tape, my husband had
to putter around with his TVs. While I was sitting there in
suspense, with my heart fluttering and sweat beading on my
forehead, waiting for him to look at the videotape, he was fixing
the damned TVs. This went on for several hours, during which I
almost died every time he looked in the direction of the cabinet
with the tape in it. I didn't know how much longer I could take
it. I wanted to yell at him, "Forget the TVs! Look at the
tape!"

Finally, he stopped working and began staring again. I knew
what would happen next. He went to the cabinet and took out the
tape. It felt like mice were running up and down my spine as he
inserted the tape. My pulse stopped. He waited. Then, at last,
he pushed the play button and sat down to watch. I couldn't see
the TV screen, but I could see his eyes widen as he saw the tape
and realized first that it wasn't his usual tape, then that only
I could have switched his tape with our special tape, and then
that I must know what was on his tape and all that that implied.

Now or never, I said to myself. If I was ever going to do
it, this was when I had to make contact with him. With my heart
thumping, I unlocked his shop door and, tears running down my
eyes, I went to him. Kneeling on the floor, I put my head on his
lap and keened away. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I sobbed, over and
over again, shaking and crying and waiting for his reaction, the
reaction that would determine the rest of our lives.

It took a few moments. Save for my sobs and the long-ago-
captured sounds of our past lovemaking coming from the still-
playing videotape, the room was quiet. Then he pulled me up
alongside him on the bench.

We clutched at each other. Our tears ran down and mingled
as we pressed our faces together. We cried, we confessed, we
apologized, we forgave, while on the screen our naked bodies
bucked and heaved and thrust into one another. There was hope
for us. We couldn't undo the past, but maybe we could live with
it.

I slowly unbuttoned my blouse and brought his mouth to my
naked nipple. As he suckled at my breast, a shiver ran through
my body and I knew that we would work things out. We would have
some rough times, but eventually we'd be okay. There would be no
more Eddies for me. The isolation was over. My husband would be
back, no longer locked away from me, no longer avoiding me.

From the TV screen came the sounds of our orgasms - the
grunting, the panting, the crying, the screaming. To the
accompaniment of these past noises, my hand found his present
erection. On the screen, his glistening, hard penis was sliding
in and out of me. In real life, I could feel the pre-orgasmic
secretion from the tip of his organ, and with my thumb I spread
it around the head. His hand slid into my pants towards the
dampness of my crotch, and as it did I knew that when my husband
started to watch the bedroom games of the young couple who would
soon move in next door, I would be next to him, watching with
him, and then we would be playing our own games.

THE END