Dirty Little Secrets 8: On Display free porn video

While I was in Orlando, I received eight videos, four from Catherine featuring her regular performances, and four from the self-styled Chase I. Tyturp, chronicling Catherine’s infidelity.

The videos from Chase were curious indeed. Whereas the first had been grainy and the people in it almost indistinguishable, the four I received while in Orlando where all good quality.

There was one in particular that fascinated me. There could be little doubt that the young man Catherine was carrying on with was holding the camera. It was trained on my wife’s face for all of ten minutes. During that time Catherine licked and kissed and wanked and sucked the man’s thick cock.

What was truly amazing about it, was the dirty talk. Over time Catherine has learned to say things she would never have said at the start of our marriage. Nevertheless, there are still some things that I’ve never heard come over her lips, ways of referring to herself.

Yet in this video, Catherine said things. She looked straight into the camera, straight up at her lover, with her mouth full and said, “I love being your kinky cocksucker. I’ll suck your cock whenever you want me to.”

Of course, I’d had the pleasure of my wife’s tongue, lips and mouth in much the same way as I now saw, but I’d never heard her refer to herself as a “kinky cocksucker”. More was to come when the man couldn’t hold it in any longer. I watched the close-up of Catherine’s face as she wiped that large organ over her cheeks and mouth, breathing, “Cum for me! Your kinky cocksucker wants your cum! Cum all over your kinky cocksucker!” She kept talking and dragging the cock across her face as the man’s sperm billowed forth.

This came as quite a shock to me. Catherine has always been quite happy to administer pleasure with her mouth, right up to and beyond ejaculation, but she’s never been keen on having the sperm sprayed on her face. Yet here she was actively making the man squirt on her cheeks and lips before smiling happily at him. “Do you like that, Mark? Do you like seeing your spunk all over your kinky cocksucker’s face?”

“Catherine, you’re amazing,” the man said.

I was hurt. I didn’t understand how my wife could do things with a stranger that she couldn’t do with me. But at the same time, I was experiencing other emotions.

I had time to think about things on the flight home, when I wasn’t flitting between awkward slumber and the ministrations of flight attendants.

The truth of the matter is that these years of Catherine making videos for me when I’m abroad, they’ve turned me into something of a voyeur. Even though it’s obviously my wife in those videos, performing for me, it’s almost as if it’s a different person. The distance created by the medium, the screen, almost makes Catherine two different people; the one who performs, and the one I encounter in real life when I return home.

Perhaps that even allows me to regard her affair with a certain detachment. The Catherine who sits with her mouth full of cock, telling her lover that she’s his “kinky cocksucker” seems strangely divorced from the woman I know as my wife, even though they’re the same person.

This in turn allows me the freedom to acknowledge that I’m aroused by the videos of Catherine with this other man. I can’t help myself. You’ll probably laugh at me, but I do find that there’s an aesthetic pleasure in the sight of a woman’s face with Pollockesque splashes of sperm on it. I’ve watched that video more than any other in the past week, like some intensely pleasurable, masochistic ritual.

In all of this, it doesn’t escape me that there may just be a benefit to Catherine’s affair. I can’t be sure how long it has been going on, but it’s certainly the case that over the past few months her performances on video have grown increasingly intense, and her behaviour in the bedroom ever more exuberant. Don’t get me wrong, Catherine has never been the type of woman to complain that she has a headache, but if ever a woman was in the process of becoming a total sexpot to the power of ten, that was where my wife was heading.

Is that why I don’t want to say anything? Because there are benefits that appear to outweigh any other considerations? I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t seriously believe for a second that Catherine is about to leave me, or anything like that. It’s an adventure for her, and while there are aspects of what I’ve seen that hurt, I’m also intensely aroused by what I’ve seen.

I’m not going to sit back and do nothing, but before I act, I want to have facts at my disposal. I want to know who this mysterious Chase I. Tyturp is, and I want to know who this Mark is that my wife gladly lets ejaculate all over her face. That’s the kind of man I am. I got where I am by always having facts at my disposal, by acting on facts, not unknowns.

All of this requires pretending I know absolutely nothing about what’s going on. This isn’t as difficult as you might think. After all, there are, as I’ve already explained, two Catherines; on-screen Catherine and the wife I come home to. To all intents and purposes it appears to be the same for her. There are no obvious tell-tale signs of guilt or furtiveness. Perhaps she manages to divorce her secret life from her married life without any problem. I just don’t know.

What I do know is that today is Monday and that it’s time to leave work. Catherine is about to pick me up. This doesn’t usually happen, but this morning she said that she wanted to show me something. The way she said it suggested it was something out of the ordinary, something that would arouse, so how could I refuse?

She picks me up outside the office. While we drive, we talk about our days. It’s all very ordinary, but I can sense that Catherine is excited by something, and that excites me too. When she finds a parking space, I have some idea of where we’re going. I’ve been here with her once, but it must be over a year ago.

There’s a sign outside the shop, advertising that men are only allowed to enter in the company of their partners. Inside everything is nice and orderly and spacious. I know that Catherine comes here to buy new items to use in her vidoes, but I had no idea she was on first-name terms with staff.

“Catherine!” a woman exclaims as we enter. “Good to see you!” She comes up to us, her name tag identifying her as Sandra. “So you’ve brought the husband to see?”

“See what?” I say, extending a hand. “I’m John, by the way.”

Sandra shakes my hand and says her own name, but her attention is on Catherine. “He doesn’t know?”

“No,” Catherine says. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Feeling at a disadvantage in all of this, I decide to let things unfold.

“You’ve timed it just right,” Sandra says, head turned as she leads us to the centre of the shop floor. “The thing’s on a half hour loop, but you should be on in about two minutes.”

She’s gesturing towards a screen mounted on what I assume is a supporting pillar. The suggestion, the implication of what she’s said isn’t lost on me, but I can’t quite bring myself to believe it. Catherine stands right up close, smiling at me, taking my hand. I’m about to see something, but exactly what, I don’t know.

For the moment, a woman is on screen, holding up various dildos and talking. The sound is down so low I can’t hear what she’s saying, though there is a text at the bottom of the screen advertising the various products.

And then she’s there, on screen, my wife, if indeed on-screen, performing Catherine is the same person as my wife. I recognise her instantly, though if she wasn’t my wife, if I hadn’t seen so many of her performances, if it wasn’t for the sybian being positioned where it always is, I don’t think I would.

I think I’m gaping. There Catherine is, on the screen, dressed in her navy blue, cupless corset, black stockings, crotchless panties and high heels. Her face is largely concealed. Not by the mask I bought her, to see if it lent her anonymity. No, by a black hood with holes for eyes, nostrils and mouth. Once again I experience that strange sense of dislocation. The woman on the screen, my wife, is standing next to me, yet it’s as if it isn’t the same woman.

But it is the same woman, of course it is, and I reach out to touch her behind, grabbing a fistful. Catherine turns her head and smiles, giving me a peck on the cheek.

“Keep it decent, you two,” Sandra says, with a smile in her voice. “This is a respectable establishment.”

I squeeze Catherine’s arse a little harder, whispering in her ear, “I want to stick my hand straight up your skirt, you naughty thing.”

Catherine keeps on smiling, a little embarrassed, but not by much. On-screen Catherine is exuding such immense sexual arousal it’s scarcely credible. The three of us watch as she grinds down on the sybian, hands all over her own body, paying especial attention to her ripe breasts and erect nipples.

Another couple appear, standing off to one side. They too stand and watch my wife up there on the screen, her loud moans just about audible where the sound is set to play in the background without providing a distraction. After a little while the woman nudges her partner in the side and says something that I don’t catch. From the way she’s looking at the screen, I imagine she’s expressing an interest in the toy, which is specified in text below the action.

“This has been a great success,” Sandra is saying. “We’ve had a lot of interest since we started showing the clip.”

Now Catherine does blush, glancing anxiously at the other couple. I give her arse a new squeeze, leaning across to whisper, “Don’t worry, they won’t recognize you. But it would be so hot if they did.”

Catherine looks at me with incredulity while Sandra moves across to the other couple, no doubt doing her best to get them to invest in the machine my wife is demonstrating with such gusto. Then her hand moves across to just briefly feel the front of my trousers. I am of course rock hard.

“How do you feel about being up there for everyone to see?” I murmur.

“Very embarrassed,” Catherine whispers. “And incredibly turned on.”

I grope her behind some more as the clip climaxes with Catherine’s climax. That Catherine feels this way gives me renewed hope that I might be able to persuade her to let me show other men her performances, so that the thing I’ve already done without her knowing can become another game for us to play.

On screen the view changes to a woman modelling lingerie, but it’s not nearly as hot as seeing Catherine up there. We stand, waiting for Sandra to return, which she does shortly.

“We may have a sale,” she says. “But I think the husband was nervous his wife would spend all her time on the sybian if she had one at home.”

“Combining the sybian with other fun is never a problem for us,” I say.

Catherine nudges me in the ribs, as if she doesn’t want me to get into details, but Sandra is grinning as if she’s worked that one out already. “Anyway,” she says. “Why don’t we go the office and have a little chat?”

The office is very small, with only the two chairs. Sandra sits behind a cluttered desk, and I let Catherine have the other chair.

“When you delivered the video,” Sandra says to Catherine, “we never discussed compensation. You said you weren’t doing it for the money.”

“No,” Catherine says. “I wanted to… Just try…”

“Well anyway,” Sandra breaks in. “I don’t want you to think we’re taking advantage of you. Initially I was minded to offer you free rope bandage classes, or one of our other…”

I can’t conceal my astonishment. “You arrange rope bondage classes?”

Sandra smiles. “Sounds like someone’s interested,” she says.

Once again, Catherine looks embarrassed. “Perhaps we ought to just start with handcuffs,” I say, suddenly wondering why bondage is a route Catherine and I have never travelled in our years of marriage.

Sandra smiles. “Anyway, the thing is that in just a few days this clip has been such a success, so I have a different proposal to put to you.”

Through all this Catherine is saying nothing, so I fill in for her. “Go ahead.”

Sandra taps a biro on the desk and looks at Catherine. “I’d like to offer you free products, anything in the shop, in exchange for you demonstrating them on camera and for us to use the videos as marketing.”

“Oh gosh,” Catherine says, finally. “I’d have to think about it.”

“Would this include online?” I ask, trying not to sound as if the idea appeals to me.

“Oh no,” Sandra says. “We don’t want our online shop window to become a porn site. In store it helps sales, online it would make the shop appear very grubby.” She pauses and gives me a little look like she knows what I’m thinking. “What you do in private is no concern of mine.”

There’s silence. Catherine is obviously thinking hard. “Would this be… I don’t know… with camera men and the like?”

“Oh no,” Sandra says. “The beauty of the video that’s already up is that it is clearly genuine, and not an act. We want customers to be able to relate to what they see. As long as the quality of the video is good enough to show, we’re happy.”

“And I’d get to remain anonymous?” Catherine asks.

“Of course,” Sandra says. “The fact that you are masked signals that the videos are genuine. I’d rather you were masked.”

“So no extraneous camera men,” I muse. “Just me, or just Catherine filming herself?”

Sandra smiles. “I might be persuaded to wield the camera myself, should the need arise.”

There’s renewed silence. Catherine is clearly thinking, and however much the idea turns me on, I don’t want to appear too keen, or pushy. “Are we talking about just any products?” my wife says at last. “Or do you have any particular products in mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure we can always come to an agreement,” Sandra says. “Although I do have some products I’d love for you to demonstrate.”

We end up in the stock room. Sandra takes Catherine’s measurements and goes in search of the products she has in mind, Catherine turns to me and murmurs, “You really like the idea, don’t you?”

“What’s important is what you think,” I reply. “Back there…” I tilt my head in the direction the shop floor, “… you said you were incredibly turned on about being up on that screen.”

Catherine gives a little smile. “I think we both were, don’t you?”

Somehow this little exchange seems to settle the matter. Sandra returns with a basket with eight items. “Some clothing and some toys,” she says. “I threw in some bondage tape and a pair of handcuffs for free, but you don’t have to demonstrate those if you don’t want to. Just use them for your own pleasure if you like.” Then she winks at us.

There follows a quick explanation of the toys. They’re both remote controlled; one an egg shaped vibrator for insertion, the other a vibrator to be strapped on, for clitoral use. “Ideally these should be used in public,” Sandra says with another wink.

Catherine suddenly looks very wary. “But I couldn’t wear the hood outdoors,” she says. “What about anonymity?”

“There are always places that are private,” Sandra says. “But the more daring the better. It would be good to have a shoot that really showed the fun a couple can have with these, which is why I’d be happy to do camera duties. I’m sure we can make it alluring without showing faces.”

“It sounds very risky,” Catherine says.

“Well,” Sandra shrugs. “There’s plenty of fun to be had in the home.” She gives a new wink. “Knock yourselves out and see how you feel afterwards.”

She packs the things in a bag, which she hands to me. “I look forward to seeing the result,” she says.

“Not half as much I’m looking forward to doing this,” I say.

“Or doing me,” Catherine fills in, which astonishes me. That’s not a turn of phrase I’m accustomed to hearing from my wife, and certainly not in the presence of other people. Either this whole business is having a real effect on her, or her affair is. Whichever it is, I’m hugely aroused, even more so by the video of my wife playing once again as we exit the shop. It’s almost like an omen.

“Would you mind driving?” Catherine asks once we’re back at the car.

“Of course not. Any reason why?”

Catherine glances down at the pavement. For a moment she seems unable to say anything. Then she whispers, “I need to touch myself.”

It’s good to see that the woman who can tell her lover that she’s a “kinky cocksucker” can still experience a certain embarrassment. It’s also good to see that she is finding it hard to control herself.

The car is of course no stranger to various shenanigans, but this is somehow different. I rummage in the bag, bringing out the handcuffs and ripping open the packaging. “What are you doing?” Catherine asks, looking a little shocked.

“Get in the car,” I say, indicating the passenger side.

When we’re safely in the car, Catherine begins to wind her seat down with one hand as she pulls on her dress with the other. Now it’s my turn to ask, “What are you doing?”

“I told you,” Catherine breathes. “I need to touch myself.”

I grab an arm. “Oh no you don’t!” I say. “You’ll save it for the camera.”

“You try and stop me!” Catherine says.

There’s no way I can if she really means it, but I rattle the handcuffs and say, “Lean forward and put your hands behind your back!”

There’s a slight pause, as if my wife is thinking about it. Then she gives a wicked little grin. “Yes, officer,” she says.

As I close the metal round her wrists, I wonder how it is that our conjugal games have never included this before. It’s just not something either of us has expressed an interest in. But now, as I lean across Catherine to pull the seat belt into place, squeezing her breasts as I do so, I feel a definite sense of satisfaction. Is it everything I’ve seen that causes me to feel this way? Am I in some obscure way trying to punish my wife for her adultery?

Perhaps, but then is that not hypocritical given my own behaviour in the past, my secret threesome in Toronto and the times I’ve showed my wife’s videos to colleagues?

And why punish her when those adulterous videos cause me such arousal? When the Catherine I see on screen hardly seems the same as Catherine, my wife? Why punish her when by recording a video to be displayed in that shop, she has gone some way to satisfying my desire to show off my incredibly sexy wife?

We don’t say much on the way home. We don’t have to. There’s enough sexual tension in the car to create a fog. I refuse to release Catherine, making her walk through the connecting door into the bungalow and all the way to the bedroom still handcuffed.

Only then do I liberate her. I empty the bags on the bed, taking the rolls of bondage tape, but leaving the clothes and toys. “Get changed,” I say. “I’ll be waiting outside with the camera.”

“Yes, sir!” Catherine says, and I realise I’m giving her orders. She takes it in good part, though. “Which of the toys do you think I should use?”

“Both,” I say, enjoying the way her eyes widen.

I leave my wife to get changed, having first appropriated the remote controls. Thankfully Sandra has included batteries. I fetch the camcorder and the tripod, taking them to the kitchen. I take the chair at the foot of the table and turn it so that it’s facing the door, backed up against the table. I unwrap the rolls of tape, thinking that it should be easy enough to use. I insert batteries into the remote controls and slip them into my pocket. The tripod is placed at a short distance from the chair, ready for the camcorder, which I now carry back to the bedroom, switched on and ready.

The door is closed. I knock. “Are you ready?”

There’s a pause. “I’m hot and horny, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s the general idea.”

“I just have to put the hood on and I’ll be out.”

“I’ve prepared a chair for you in the kitchen.”

Silence. I start the recording, moving into position so I can film Catherine as she emerges from the bedroom. When she does, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look more stunning, which is saying something. She’s wearing thigh high black boots, with stocking tops emerging above them, and a red PVC skirt which just about reaches the stocking tops. Above the skirt is a black see through top which clings to her, accentuating her perfectly rounded breasts. The hood is on, through which I see nervous but eager eyes and red, seductive lips. In short my wife looks like she’s just stepped out of the pages of a glossy magazine for gentlemen with, shall we say, special interests.

Sandra will like this, I think, but not half as much as I like it. My cock is throbbing already. I follow Catherine as she walks to the kitchen, filming her as she bends forward to give a little tease, revealing a glimpse of naked buttocks under the skirt, and a hint of the straps holding the clit vibrator in place. As she walks she becomes a little less of my wife, a little more of the woman who satisfies my voyeuristic impulses, and who I’ve seen perform on camera with an unknown man. It’s strange, this bifurcation, this woman transformed from the wife I know to a woman straight out of the pages of a magazine or a computer screen.

In the kitchen, Catherine sees the chair and goes straight up to it, turning and sitting down. I place the camera on the tripod and check the screen. I adjust the positioning so that the scene I want is perfectly framed. I suppose I should stop the recording to avoid getting in the frame myself, but if I keep my back to the camera when I’m not standing, perhaps it will be alright. I’m sure the film can be edited. Suddenly I want everything recorded.

I see nerves through the eyeholes, but also excitement such as I’ve never before seen in my wife. I walk up to her and take an arm, stretching it out. Catherine obediently holds her limb in place as I take one of the rolls of bondage tape and wind the stuff round her wrist and the table leg. It’s not at all as complicated as I feared it might be and I swiftly repeat the action with my wife’s other arm.

Bending down with my back to the camera, I take the other roll and bind my wife’s legs to the chair legs. I suddenly realise that her wearing boots is not a great idea in this context, but it will have to do. Moving back to the camera I take a look. Catherine looks wonderful where she sits in the outfit, arms spread out and tied, legs tied, nervous and expectant eyes staring out from the hood. Is she my wife, or is she a fantasy?

I move back to her, sliding my fingers over the top, where her nipples are standing to attention. Catherine gives a little squeak. Through the mask her eyes seem to be asking me why I’m not using the toys. I’m standing to one side of her, with my back to the camera, knowing that it’s catching everything of her. I reach out and flick the control for the egg she has in her vagina.

The response is better than I could have expected. Catherine cries out and her body lifts slightly from the chair. I switch the vibrator off, watching her breathe through open mouth, her chest heaving. Then I make the egg vibrate again, a little faster this time. “Aaa-aa-aaaa-aaa-ooooh-aaa-aaa-oooh!” Catherine moans, sounding half in agony, half in ecstacy. I hadn’t expected her to get this worked up so quickly. She must have been very aroused beforehand.

I repeat the process, switching the vibrations on and off, watching intently, enjoying the way Catherine’s body arches and she moans as the vibrations hum. She is my wife and yet she is also someone else entirely, someone who is at my mercy. I’ve never tied my wife up before, and in some senses she is not my wife, not now. She is a body, at my mercy, for me to do anything I like with, as far as her position will allow.

When I switch the vibrator off, Catherine whispers something. “Please!” Her eyes are pleading inside the hood. “Please!” I give a quick blast, enjoying the way Catherine cries out and lets the full thrust of her need come out in a long whine. “Please!”

Nipples strain under the gauzy fabric. I reach out to pinch them. Then I step back, just looking at Catherine, watching her fidget, as if she can’t bear to be without the sensation of those vibrations.

I’m feeling wicked, and I can’t help myself. I have to see what happens. The controls are on the table where Catherine can’t see them. I turn both vibrators on, making sure the speed his quite high. Catherine’s body gives a great lurch, as if she’s trying to burst the tape holding her in place. She’s moaning as if she can’t contain herself, and perhaps she can’t.

I can’t have her cumming that quickly, so I stop the vibrations, leaving Catherine to tug at the tape holding her arms in place. I stand next to the camera while I undress. I can see my wife’s eyes through the hood, and recognize the expression, the one she has when she wants me to take her unceremoniously, right here, right now.

Naked, and with a big swollen cock for my wife to feast her eyes on, I move back to the table and activate both vibrators again. Catherine shrieks out loud and pulls so hard on the tape that I’m afraid the kitchen furniture is about to become matchsticks. I keep the vibrators on, enjoying the long continuous moan and Catherine’s wide open ruby lips. It’s impossible not to touch my rock hard cock, so I begin wanking as I watch my wife.

And yet once again it’s as if this is not my wife. Except that I know her so well that I can see the signs. I switch the vibrators off. No cumming for Catherine; not just yet. I’m discovering how much I enjoy the sense of power.

Catherine squirms on the chair. “Please!” she breathes. “Please let me cum!”

I give a quick blast of the egg, making Catherine whine and shift violently. “Please!” she breathes again. “Please let me cum!” Inside the hood her eyes are begging.

I give a quick blast of the clit vibrator. “Oh!” she cries out. She’s working her body as if she’s trying to force herself to climax. “Ooooooooh! Please let me cum! I’ll let you do whatever you like, just please let me cum!”

The offer is too good to refuse. Here my wife is, tied to the chair, powerless to resist. And yet on the other hand, she is no more than a fantasy, a body to be enjoyed, to use to satisfy any whim. I take a step forward, holding my cock in my hand. Catherine’s lips are parted. I feed her my cock while I activate the egg. I can hear the thing hum softly as my wife’s lips clamp down on my erection. She moans at the back of her throat as I move my cock gently in her mouth, suddenly giving a quick blast with the clit vibator.

Catherine twists her head violently. My cock comes out of her mouth as I switch the egg off. She looks up at me from behind the hood. “I can’t stand it,” she breathes. “I need to cum. Make me cum! Now!”

I let the controls be for the moment as I reinsert my cock in my wife’s mouth. Only after half a minute of moving between her lips do I switch both vibrators on, making sure the speed is considerable, realising suddenly just how close Catherine is to cumming. Arms and legs are pulling violently. She is my wife, yet she is not my wife. I pinch her nipples, feeling her lips squeeze me hard. She’s almost there. Everything comes together suddenly. She is my wife and not my wife; the woman I love, yet also a body to be used, a body I’ve seen used by a young man. She is my wife, but she’s also a fantastical creature who has just told me I can do whatever I like if I let her cum.

And she’s cumming now. Her body’s heaving. Suddenly I’m ripping off the hood. Catherine’s eyes are shut, but her mouth is open, wailing and wailing. I wank my cock furiously, shoving the helmet up against her face. The orgasm carries on, seemingly never-ending as the vibrators vibrate and her face becomes a canvas onto which I splash my seed.

“Please!” she gasps. “Turn them off! It’s too much!”

I do as she says. My wife sits there breathing heavily in her post-orgasmic state, thick splodges of ejaculate glazing her skin, sliding slowly down her cheeks, coating her lips, dripping from her chin. I can’t remember ever seeing anything like it.

It is of course impossible to send the video to Sandra. The following evening we try again, ending up with some much milder, but very sexy imagery of Catherine posing in her new gear before she lies on the bed with the vibrators in place, arms and legs stretched out and bound together with bondage tape, with a nice big climax at the end.

Catherine e-mails the footage to Sandra, who soon gets back to her. “It’s everything I hoped it would be.”

This response excites us both. For a while I put the thought of Catherine’s affair to one side, enjoying the thrill of this other adventure.

Then, on the Thursday, I’m leaving work in the company of Dave from Sales and Marketing. We’re standing in the lobby chatting about this and that when I catch sight of someone. It’s someone I’ve never met, though clearly we work for the same company, but who I am sure I recognize only too well. “Any idea who that is?” I ask, pointing without making it obvious.

Dave takes a few seconds to think. “Young kid,” he says, as if I can’t see that. “Works in the media department, I think. Can’t remember his name.”

Heart beating, I say, “Looks ordinary enough. Probably a Mark or something.”

“That’s it!” Dave snaps his fingers. “Mark! I remember now! Someone told me he was one too watch! Can’t think who now.”

Yes, I think. He’s one to watch, and I have watched him. I’ve been sent clips of him buck naked behind my wife with his thick cock buried deep inside her. I’ve seen his sperm jet out over her firm breasts and bubble out onto her face. I’ve seen his face between her thighs as she screams orgasmically.

Is it merely a coincidence that he works for the same company, or is there something going on of which I’m not aware? I don’t feel any animosity, because somehow the woman in the clips still seems as if she’s not quite my wife, even though it patently is Catherine. In one way I feel elated. Now I at least have a little more information. What I want to know now is who Chase I. Tyturp is, and how he’s gotten hold of the clips. Is it Mark himself sending them? But why would he do that? To gloat? He doesn’t look like the gloating kind, but can you tell that about a person just from looking at them?

I need time to think, but there’ll be time enough when I’m away on my travels. There always is. Before I leave, I will endeavour to find out a little more about Mark.

Back home, Catherine is flustered and exhilarated. “Sandra’s been in touch,” she says. “She said the videos were just what they wanted. She’s invited us to a preview on Saturday morning before opening.”

“A special preview,” I smile. “It’s almost like Hollywood.”

“Oh gosh, what have I done?” Catherine breathes, reddening gradually.

But to my delight, I can tell that she’s very excited about it all. I get a very clear sense that though she tries hard to pretend she’s still in two minds about this, more than anything the whole affair is providing her with a keen state of barely suppressible arousal.

This is confirmed on the Saturday morning. She emerges from the bedroom in a sky blue dress that buttons down the front. I strongly suspect that the white nylon emerging from under them goes no further up than her thighs. But what reveals her state of mind most clearly is that once we’re in the car, with Catherine in the passenger seat, she takes the controls to the remote vibrators out of her bag and hands them to me. “You like being in control, don’t you, darling?”

The way she says it makes me incredibly grateful to be married to such a sexual creature. At that moment I think that if having an affair is part and parcel of that, then so be it. I sit with the controls in my lap as I drive, just setting the egg to vibrate briefly at odd moments, but enough for Catherine to get that look in her eye that tells me that if she’s keen for me to be in control, that she doesn’t mind losing control.

At nine, we’re admitted to the shop through the back entrance. The tattooed girl called Jez is busy checking the merchandise. Since I’ve only ever seen the two of them here, I want to ask if this is just a two woman operation, but feel it would be impolite.

Sandra is as warm and friendly as always, welcoming us both with a hug this time. “The videos work so well,” she tells us. “I’ll definitely be asking you to do more. Always assuming you want to.”

She sounds more hopeful than requesting, possibly because Catherine has an ambivalent look in her eye. I have the controls in my pocket, and I just can’t help myself. I give my wife a quick blast with the egg.

The gasp that emerges from Catherine oozes sexual arousal. Sandra glances at her with an amused eye, then at me. “It seems as if those vibrators were a big hit,” she says. “Well, that’s what we’re hoping when the videos start showing to customers.”

She leads us to the middle of the shop, to the screen mounted on the pillar. Commercials are already playing. A short-haired brunette is talking and holding up various items. A banner runs along the bottom of the screen with prices and information. “Jez!” Sandra calls out. “Skip forward, will you?”

And there she is on the screen, my wife, in thigh-high boots, stockings, red PVC skirt, gauzy black top and the hood disguising her face. The banner gives information about the clothes. I glance at Catherine, who seems transfixed by the sight of herself up there, for every customer to see as she poses in our living room, running her fingers across the gauzy top and her head-turning knockers.

I can’t resist. After all, it was Catherine’s idea to wear the vibrators. I give her a moderate blast of the vibrating egg, for ten seconds or so.

“Uuu-oh!” Catherine gasps, squirming, her legs twisting as if she desperately needs a bathroom. Both Sandra and Jez smile in amusement, and that spurs me to activate the clit vibrator briefly once the egg is switched off. Catherine gives a little gasp and seems to stumble.

“Shall I get you a chair?” Sandra asks.

“If my husband keeps playing around with those controls, I might just need one,” Catherine says. She sounds embarrassed, but the look she gives me oozes pure lust.

Sandra disappears, and we stand there watching the screen. Catherine sits on our sofa with legs crossed. The banner along the bottom gives information about the vibrators as she squirms. Once more I can’t resist using the vibrators on her. She stands squirming, watching herself squirming on the screen. Sandra returns with a chair. “Thank you,” Catherine says, cheeks aglow.

She stares at the screen as if she’s transfixed by the sight of herself on the bed with her arms and legs tied together, moaning softly as she’s teased by the vibrators. Either that or she’s embarrassed to look anywhere else. I flick the clit vibrator to moderate speed, enjoying the new shift in my wife’s body, the way she gasps and squeaks.

“We should have her demonstrate those in person,” Jez says. “Sit her next to the shelf with those things and give her a buzz when anyone goes near.”

I look at Catherine to see how she reacts to the suggestion, but she just stares at the screen, still shifting under the vibrations. From the way Jez said what she said, and from the way she looked at Catherine, I get the feeling she’s into women. I look at Sandra, and see her looking at my wife with eyes that are trying to conceal hunger, but not making a very good fist of it. She catches me looking at her and smiles in a very definite manner. “Now there’s an idea,” she says.

I’m not sure if the pair are being serious or not. I’m too worked up to care, just as I couldn’t care less about whether they’re bisexual or a pair of lesbians. I’m too overwhelmed by the sight of Catherine watching herself as she will be seen by as many customers as the shop sees. “Why don’t you two give her a buzz now?” I say, holding out the controls.

Catherine goes red in the face at being spoken of in this way, but all I care about is that she doesn’t protest. The two women look delighted, and I hand Sandra the control for the egg while Jez comes across to accept the clit control. On screen Catherine is swiftly approaching her climax. I don’t know if one or both of the women switch the vibrators on, but it doesn’t matter. I adore the sight of my wife’s chest heaving as she sits on the chair watching herself, moaning softly from the vibrations as she watches herself moaning and gasping her way to a climax on screen.

The footage changes to the familiar one of my wife on the sybian. I still can’t believe how hot she looks up there, open to the gaze of customers, albeit mostly female customers. But again, it’s almost as if it’s not really my wife I’m watching, not until Sandra and/or Jez do something with the vibrators, attracting my attention back to real-life Catherine, who sits deliciously red-faced and squirming; embarrassed yet obviously more than aroused.

I think of the anonymous videos I’ve been sent, about how my wife is having an affair behind my back, but by now this woman is hardly my wife, just an insatiable body being driven to the inevitable by remote control. “You could even sit Catherine by the products and invite the customers to use the controls,” I suggest.

“Oh that would be so great!” Jez cries.

“We could use a proper hood, so that she can’t see when someone’s about to buzz her,” Sandra suggests.

Catherine gasps out loud, her legs pushed tightly together as she squirms on the chair, a loud humming from under her dress alerting me to why. The humming continues, with varying strength. Catherine stares at on-screen Catherine going wild on the sybian and bites her lip.

“Better still,” Sandra says, “We could arrange special demonstration evenings. Let our special model here show the merits of lots of different products.”

I don’t know if it’s the idea of this that makes Catherine let out a long, lusty moan, or if the vibrators are just getting the better of her, but I like the way her lips part and her eyes haze over with pre-orgasmic bliss. “Would that be women only or couples?” I ask.

“I’d be happy with either,” Sandra says.

I hear the humming under Catherine’s dress increase. Her eyelids are flickering, her tongue is out, licking her lips. Her body is moving, moving, moving, not uncontrollably but constantly in motion.

“Or we could do a special one-off men only evening,” Jez chimes in. “For guys who want to treat their partners to something special.”

“Oooooh!” Catherine cries out. She’s gasping in a way I don’t think I’ve heard before. The wicked shopkeepers stare at her, grinning happily. “Ooooh!” Catherine cries. “Oooooooooh!” Her voice goes up several octaves and her eyes seem to roll back into her head. Her body twists and shudders. I’ve definitely never seen her like this ever before, and it’s all I can do not to cream in my pants.

When Catherine is in a fit state to walk again, Sandra takes us into her office. “I hope you didn’t mind us toying with you,” she says. “We didn’t mean any harm.”

Catherine gives an embarrassed smile. “If I’d have wanted you to stop, I’d have said so,” she says. It comes out in a half-whisper.

Sandra smiles. “And those things we said… We do have evenings where we show off products, but not… like that.”

“I understand,” Catherine says softly. But beneath all that, I get the sense that those ideas appeal to her. Whatever has happened to my wife, whether as a result of her affair of her affair being a result of this new Catherine, I sense that the time is right for me to get what I want. For now, though, I will say nothing. That will be for next week.

Sandra is saying something about wanting to see if the new video has any effect on sales over the weekend. If it does, she’ll be providing Catherine with new products next week. Always assuming my wife is willing.

Catherine is, though she tries not to be too obvious about it. I now have a wife who I not only love deeply, but whose sexual appetites appear to be bottomless. Affair or no affair, this excites me hugely.

Back in the car I turn to Catherine, not starting the engine; not just yet. “You like the idea of being watched, don’t you?”

Catherine tries to look bashful, but doesn’t make a very good job of it. Nor does she deny what I’ve just said. “What do you think?” she says.

“I think,” I say with a slight smile, “that you owe me some relief after what happened in there. I can’t seem to get my erection to lie down.”

“Relief?” Catherine breathes. “What, here?”

I scan the car park. A few people and cars are moving about, but not many. “Right here, right now,” I say.

My wife doesn’t put up any more resistance. She leans across and unzips me. In next to no time her moist mouth is servicing my cock. I think of next week, about how she’ll no doubt be seeing her lover again, but also that I have my own plans for her. I feel quite sure she’ll acquiesce.