Karen Kay's Korner

He stares at his own bedroom in a video image on his monitor. The room in the picture is dark and empty. On occasion the lights from cars passing in the street below reflect across the walls and ceiling and tell him that the camera is still active.

The camera is very small. The wide-angle lens distorts the scene, rounding the walls and corners, making his room appear unfamiliar and strange. The viewing angle is also unfamiliar, from a corner opposite the bed. Not much of his bedroom is obscured in the camera view.

The man is weak and filled with shame. He doubts himself too much. Never popular, not very experienced, usually awkward and shy. He has made something of himself as a programmer, buying a big house and nice cars, but the hours were bad and the stress too high. He is becoming more soft and withdrawn. His quirkiness worked in college, but it was not much of an asset now.

His wife, however, is stunning. More so, even, than when he met her. Graceful, and athletic. She teaches yoga and a high-class gym in town. She is six years younger. She socializes, stays out late. Dresses in sexy clothes. He buys her things but doesn't satisfy her. He loves her but sometimes hates her. He worries, and now he spies.

This is the third day in a row that he calls her and tells her he will be late. She takes the news without comment.

The first two days, the video shows nothing but headlights. Both nights she goes to bed late. He watches her touch herself between her legs under the covers. At first he feels guilty. Then angry. He wonders whom she thinks of.

Tonight again the video is empty. He is restless and bored. He thinks maybe he will go home a bit early and surprise her. He gets up to refill his coffee and talks to his boss.

When he returns to his desk, he sees the glare from the bathroom light in the video. From under the door it paints a yellow square across the deep rug of the bedroom. The camera adjusts to the square and the rest of the room darkens. He thinks he sees his wife's purse on the bed.

He feels affectionate toward her. He remembers when they were married, how they would take showers together. He remembers how beautiful she is naked and wet. She is the sexiest thing he has ever seen.

He remembers and watches. The door opens eventually and his wife steps as a silhouette into the square of light. She is wearing the silk bathrobe he bought her for their second anniversary. Her long hair is straight from the dampness. She pauses there and stares at the bed.

He wishes he could be there to take off her robe and make love to her.

But then there is a shadow. He notices with a start. His mouth goes dry, his heart pounds. Another silhouette in the light. I step into the bedroom.

He wants to turn off the monitor. To pretend this isn't happening. He feels like throwing up. Instead he just watches.

He watches me put my arms on her waist from the back. I am wearing nothing. I kiss her neck and she responds. Her back arches, her hands go to my forearms. With my left hand I find the opening in her robe and caress the smoothness of that flat stomach, up to the bottom curve of her breast. My right hand falls to her hip, turns to her inner thigh.

He doesn't know how to touch her like this. I caress and tease her. She turns her head against mine as I kiss her. My groin presses into her firm ass. My penis stiffens against her. She is almost out of breath. She has been neglected. This is too easy.

I step away and she drops her robe and faces me. I turn on the lights. I want to see her while we do this. At his computer, he thinks it is cruel fate. He doesn't want to watch, but he can't look away.

I take her in. Small, firm breasts, flat smooth white skin. Tight stomach. Even tighter ass. Her hair hangs down her back. She has a small tattoo on the small of her back. A solitaire diamond necklace he got her hangs between her breasts. It looks like a chip of ice against her flushed skin.

He sees us regard each other in the video screen. His colors are washed out, mine are not. He can't see the blush on his young wife's face. He can't see the clear tan lines, the subtle pink of her nipples. Her sharp blue eyes.

He can see my black frame approach her. He can see her treble. He hopes it is with guilt but I know it is with expectation. I hold her again, my arm in the small of her back, the other on the side of her right breast. We kiss passionately. He sees too well her hand cup my huge black balls, shyly touching my black penis. I am rock hard. She acts like a virgin.

I guide her back a step and on to the bed. She falls back with her hair in disarray. I climb above her and kiss her right breast and caress her left. I gently tug at her nipple with my teeth. My knee touches the dampness between her legs. She grinds into me, unable to wait. Her back is arched. Her mouth open.

We kiss again and my hand slights around her back. I draw my finger down to the base of her spine and press her ass. It's a pressure point and she kisses me hard with her hand behind my head. She looks at me with pleading eyes. Do it now, she says.

I move between her legs and climb on top of her. He can not see much of his woman now. Her hair, her arms, the side of her left breast mashed into my chest, the lower parts of her legs as they wrap around mine. He notices the diamond anklet he got her.

I tease her for a moment longer. I rub the head of my cock up and down between her legs, touching the mound below her stomach, the slit of her pussy, her ass.

Finally I press it against her opening. She is wet, but so tight. I take small slow strokes, in a few more inches at a time. She spreads her legs farther, grabs my black ass. Finally with one last slow thrust I am all the way in. I am buried in her, with my pelvis flush against hers. I have claimed my prize.

He can not deny anything now. His lover has betrayed him. She arches her back and meets each of my thrusts with one of her own. Our sweat mingles. We kiss and change our embrace. I rub her breasts, her ass, I find every place on her that can be stimulated. She shouts my name over my shoulder and cums hard, exploding into ecstasy.

He can not hear her but it is clear what has happened. He has never seen her like this. He looks at his watch – we have been together for over twenty minutes and I show no sign of slowing down. She cums again suddenly, grabbing my arms for support and pushing against me.

I pull out and he wonders if I will finish inside her. I roll and we talk for a moment. Her adoration and sexual warmth obvious even on the web camera. But it is not over.

She climbs on top of me, pushing me inside her again. Her back is partially to him but he can see me penetrate her clearly with every stroke. She controls the pace now and she goes fast. Her ass grinds into me, her tits bounce before my eyes. He can see my black dick glisten between each thrust in and out of her.

She cums again with one of my hands squeezing her left breast and the other playing with her ass. From my vantage point she is irresistible. I watch her muscles contract and so does he. She stares upwards into the lights for a moment and he imagines that she is looking at him.

Watching her fuck me like this, I can not hold off. I feel myself swell inside her and I explode, pumping her full. She feels the warmth inside her and she cums too. We hold each other in climax for a moment and then fall facing each other on the bed.

From above he can't quite see my cum leaking out of her. Or the red marks where I held her tight.

She gets up and walks out of the room. I am lying stretched out on his bed, in his house. He hates me. It doesn't matter.

He tells himself it was a one night stand. He thinks he can buy her something, keep her close. Not let on that he knows of her infidelity. Not work late anymore. Things could be like they were. This gives him hope.

He sees her return to the room, still naked, but carrying a suitcase. We kiss. I dress. I’ll return again for more. I find the condom in my shirt pocket on the drive home. I begin to wonder if she was protected. Time will only tell.