• Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Exhibitionist & Voyeur
  • /
  • A Secret Revealed Pt. 04

A Secret Revealed Pt. 04

123

I drove home, unable to focus on anything. Anything, however, did not include the sexual affair that I just video taped between my ex wife and her yoga instructor. Or, should I say, the sex tape that the yoga instructor started and I finished. The camera sat in the driver seat next to me, my life ready to protect it at all costs. I probably would have taken a bullet for it.

After realizing I missed my turn 2 blocks ago, I doubled back and parked in front of my house. I looked at my watch, unable to believe that just ten minutes ago, I was watching Beth's asshole, my ex wife's "bunny hole," drip her yoga instructors semen. Sure, I may have been hidden in a closet behind a one way mirror the instructor set up. And no, they did not realize my presence, just as Beth did not realize her sexual affair, her "yoga" lesson, was being recorded.

It started from a simple Skype call that did not get dropped and it led to me watching my ex wife have Friday night nookie wither her husband, Saturday morning alone time pleasuring herself, and then Saturday afternoon time with Mr. Yoga. I've heard of life changing experiences, and any one of the afore mentioned voyeuristic activities would have been enough for my life. I had hit the voyeur trifecta.

After walking into the house, I dropped the camera in my office. Then, zipping upstairs, I went to check on the status of my open ended Skype call with my ex wife. The one my son turned off from the television, only leaving the television on standby and the camera still running. As I never dropped the call, the feed from the camera stayed live all night and morning. I couldn't wait to watch the recordings.

Into my room I ran, excited for another possible round of nighttime voyeuristic activities. Instead, I stopped in my tracks, staring at the television like I had lost a close friend.

"No Internet Connection."

Fucking Com Piece of Crap Cast. Of all times to interrupt my signal. I reset the television, desperate to restore my connection. The internet had been restored, apparently long ago, but the call was lost forever. I was crushed. The journey was coming to an end.

In less than 24 hours, I had become addicted to a drug I couldn't buy. My ex wife. Her beauty. Her nudity. Her sexual explorations and romps, both with her husband, and without. I lay back on the bed, sad, but also happy, thinking of the rare moments that I would forever be able to treasure. The DVR was a wonderful thing.

I suppose I could call my son Tom and try to recreate the entire string of events. But, it was such a random occurrence, such a happenstance. It wasn't like he had a weekly appointment to forget his shoes and call me in a panic. I could try again next year, but I'd have to remember to hide his shoes. I made a mental note.

I began to focus on the camera recording. I suppose I might be able to use it against Beth, perhaps black mail her into some sexual favors. Maybe even my own yoga class, as the instructor, helping her with her Downward Dog. It could get a little messy, having to explain how I recorded her. But hell, that would probably be the last of her worries.

Her yoga class. Now that was a bit funny. I pictured how Ken would react when he found the camera gone. I laughed, imaging the look on his face as he stared into the closet, noticing my semen on the one way mirror. There was certainly no sneaking back for another show. If he even risked another show.

I sat up. Another show. That was fucking it! I had to get back, to somehow confront Ken. To blackmail Him into letting me watch. He certainly would not want the police involved. The publicity. I absolutely had a solid plan. The cable company may have let me down, but Ken, he was going to let me up.

I ran back down the stairs, desperate to get back. I was flipping out at the brilliance. There was no chance I was going to take the camera back as evidence, as leverage. Ken would probably kick the shit out of me if he somehow thought he could recover it. So, that was not going to happen.

Every single light seemed to be red. I looked at my watch, thinking maybe two hours had gone by. Instead, just over fifteen. My mind raced over the possibilities of another show, in the closet, watching my ex wife pull down her pants. Ogling at her nursing breasts. Masturbating to her violation.

Driving through the last two red lights, I made it to the small strip mall. I parked in the middle as close as I could and got out, jogging slightly. Past the various stores, up to the Panera Bread, reaching the corner, turning, wondering how I should best start the conversation.

"Heyyy!"

I had just slammed into a lady, almost knocking her over. Her hands stretched out, shielding herself from the man in front of her. I stopped,, backing away, focussing on the sight in front of me. A black coat, initially held closed by the woman, now draped open. A tight fitting pair of turquoise yoga pants clung to her sexy legs, displaying her camel toe as yoga pants always do. The small bra-like top outlined a pair of magnificent breasts, nipples slightly visible behind the fabric. My eyes stopped, knowing exactly what I was looking at.

"Jesus, Peter. What the hell is your problem?"

Beth, my ex wife, stood before me. She had just left her one hour sexcapade and her face looked it. Her makeup was inconsistently spread on her lips and face, slightly smeared. Her hair was frazzled and unkempt. Slamming shut her coat, Beth gave me an earful.

"Don't you look at me like that, you perv."

The little, inadvertent show was nothing compared to the porn video I just made of her. Thirty minutes earlier, Beth was practically letting me suck the milk from her tits. Now, she was fuming at the invasion of privacy that just took place. Her anger made me react in a way I might not have otherwise.

"That's a pretty wild outfit. What were you doing?"

Beth stood still, holding her long coat tight against her body. My pleasant conversation wasn't being very well received.

"It's a fucking yoga outfit. What do you think I was doing?"

I smiled, looking at her eyes. Sensing just a hint of post orgasmic bliss floating around inside of them. I couldn't help myself and tried to push her buttons a bit more with my natural charm and wit.

"Fucking yoga. Or maybe, yoga fucking."

Beth's face seemed to flinch at my tame twist of words that came out of her own mouth. But, she made it too easy. Her tone made me want to put her in her place.

"That's real funny, asshole. Get out of my way. You are such a fucking loser. I'm so glad I divorced you."

With that, Beth walked around me. I probably would have just let her go, but that last statement hurt a little more than I would have liked.

"I liked the white pants and blue top better."

Beth twirled, shocked at my statement. The ability of me to know what she was wearing this morning was impossible. The shock and surprise almost erased her anger and hatred.

"What did you just say?"

I looked at her directly in the face, somewhat more confident in the things I could and couldn't say to her with the knowledge that I had. They say knowledge is power. They are right.

"While you played with yourself this morning...."

I wanted to continue with "...in the ass..." but Beth didn't let me finish. Here eyes were wide, almost scared. She stepped back in dismay at my statement.

"Are you spying on me?"

I didn't answer her question, instead marveled at the indirect admission.

"Oh...So you were..."

Beth realized the trap she walked into, that I was just clearly toying with her, being the asshole she thought I was. I never spoke to her in such a manner, so that was perhaps the initial fear. But mostly, the fear came from the fact that I was correct. Beth played it off like she was on to my game.

"Yea, right, in your dreams. You're fucking sick. Tom doesn't deserve you as a dad. I'm telling my lawyer about this."

Beth turned and walked towards her car just across the aisle. She practically ran. I called after her after, barely resisting the urge to just yell her secret out to the world around.

"Well, make sure you tell him where your fingers were when I called!"

With that, Beth got into her car and slammed the door. Backing out, she turned and gave me the middle finger, mouthing the intent of the gesture as she drove off. Fuck me? No, fuck You, Beth. Fuck You.

Christ, one moment you have happy plans and are ready to take on the world. The next moment, you run into your ex wife, and the world collapses on top of you. That is a tremendous skill that Beth has, and I was finding it difficult to get away from. I returned to my task at hand, realizing the need to rush was no longer upon me. I'd most likely find Ken upstairs.

I walked up the steps, listening, expecting Ken to come running down the hall looking for a masked man with a camera. Instead, at the top, I found an empty hall. Silence. I walked to the end, stood outside his studio door, and listened. I thought I could hear a faint yelling.

Pushing open the door, a loud conversation could be heard coming from Ken's office. I walked towards the door and listened, curious to his mood and what he was revealing.

"Bullshit, Ed, don't give me that. I know you came to my office today. Don't ask me how I know. You know how I know!"

A pause. Ken was apparently accusing one of his friends of being the semen bandit. I had to commend him on his sleuth like efforts, but "You know how I know" was probably not something Sherlock Holmes would strategize around. I opened the door, bracing myself for the various possibilities. Ken was sitting at his desk, apparently still not fully dressed from his recent endeavors. He was shirtless.

"Who are you? We're closed. I can't talk now."

Ken was short with me, unconcerned at the stranger appearing in his office after an apparent recent crime. Sherlock would definitely be disappointed. Ken retuned to confronting Ed. I looked at him, speaking loud to make sure he heard me.

"I'M THE GUY WITH YOUR CAMERA."

Ken paused, staring at me in shocked acknowledgment. He hung up on Ed without even saying goodbye. He stood up.

"Now stay behind that desk, or I'm out of here."

I failed to think about Ken beating the shit out of me, before I could speak, as a possibility. I might have gotten the better of him if I was brandishing some type of lethal weapon, which unfortunately, I was not.

"Who the hell are you? And how did you get my camera?"

Ken was not quite as mad as he was a moment ago, yelling at Ed. His mystery had been solved. Now, he just needed it to be resolved, with him receiving the camera.

"Sit down and I'd be happy to get it back to you."

With those words, Ken seemed to relax. He sat down, eager to hear what I had to say.

"Fine, I'm sitting."

True to his word, Ken sat down. His eyes couldn't hide the anger that still swelled within him, despite the calm appearance he may have put forth.

"So, first question I have is, how many tapes are there?"

Ken shifted a little, not liking the direction of the conversation. He paused, thinking of an answer. One seemed to form in his mind as he spoke.

"Listen, it was just a little fun I was having... with my girlfriend. We just do it...for fun."

Ken may have been fit and strong, but he was not very smart. "It was a little fun...that they do for fun..." Great. I had to be a bit careful. Stupid people can be manipulated, but they are also dangerous. They never know how stupid they are until they get everyone killed around them.

"Fun for fun. I got it. But, I'm having a hard time believing you, as you are already lying to me. She is not your girlfriend. She is my ex-wife."

Ken seemed legitimately scared at my statement. I was someone who had a personal relationship with the woman who just left. Ken associated "ex-wife" with love, caring, and protection. Like I said, he was fairly stupid.

"Man, ok, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it. You can keep the camera. It's yours. But, come on, I need the card."

Yes, the card. Not a tape, but a memory stick. My age was showing.

"Let me change my first question. How many CARDS are there?"

Ken shifted again, knowing he was caught.

"Just a couple. They're nothing, really, just, well, some yoga stuff."

I felt like a principal talking to a high school kid, desperate to get out of trouble, who was not able to find the words to do so.

"Listen Ken, I either go to the police, or you can give me any other cards that you have. Got it? I really don't want you to get in trouble, I just can't risk having any cards floating around. So, go get them, wherever they are, and I'll just wait here. The sooner you do it, the sooner this nightmare is over."

Ken looked at me and sighed. He stood up slowly, almost looking relieved. Then, turning to the closet, ho opened the door and walked in. I was left alone in his office and looked around. I stared at the yoga chart behind the desk, recognizing a few of the poses Beth performed for him. I leaned forward wondering what other poses she could possibly perform that were more erotic than what I saw today. God, there were some pretty obscene ways that women posed. An unbelievably obscene one stood out. I looked at the name. "Happy Baby." I don't know what was more perverted, the names, or the poses.

The door opened and Ken returned with a Yoga shoebox. I looked at it, wondering why he needed a shoebox to keep just a few memory cards of Beth. He looked at me, reluctant to give it to me once the deed had to actually be done.

"What are you going to do?"

Ken, I suppose, wanted some of his own reassurances.

"I'm going to burn them."

Yea, right, I'm going to burn them. Rather, I was going to burn them into my mind. If they were half as exciting as what I saw today, they would be twice as exciting as anything I'd seen before. Ken seemed to accept my plan, almost happy to relieve himself of the criminal burden he held on to.

"Alright, here they are."

I took the box and opened it. My eyes stared not at a few memory cards sliding around, but rather, a tightly packed box with envelopes standing upright from left to right. Some were a bit more worn than others, with crumpled edges or torn tops. Still, they all seemed in order with a few number tabs sticking up to separate them.

"What the hell is this? Where are the cards?"

Ken looked at me like I was now the idiot.

"In the envelopes. Beth is number 62. It's all there, I swear. I'm glad to be getting rid of the crap. If my fiance ever found it, I'd be dead."

Beth is number 62. There had to be about a hundred plus envelopes, apparently in sequential order. He wasn't just giving me Beth, he was giving me all of the cards. Like I had asked. Like an idiot. I grabbed one, saw the number 23 on the front, and opened it. 7, count them, 7 memory cards were in the envelope. Some of them 30 gig in size. Carefully, I put it back in it's place. Ken looked suddenly looked at me, frantic.

"Wait. Can I have 39?"

I looked at him oddly.

"She's my fiance... I just... well...thought..."

I understood his plight. Some day, they might come in handy if she divorced him. I certainly wished I had such a recording of Beth and her younger years. I flipped through the envelopes and found 39. It was well worn and open, revealing at least 14 cards inside. I slipped three cards from Miss 39 into the bottom of the box by tilting the envelope, as though I was still looking. Then, I pulled it out and handed it to him.

"Thanks. I appreciate it. If you ever need anything, and I mean anything, I'll do whatever I can."

Looking over his shoulder I remembered the poster. The poses on the wall. So many to chose from. So many erotic positions of the Karma Sutra. My eyes wandered and then stopped. I smiled.

"Does Beth know the Happy Baby?"

...

I drove home in a good mood having found a new friend. A new best friend. Ken was almost more excited about my plan than I was. He even offered a few friendly suggestions, apparently finding a huge weight had been lifted with the 40 years in a federal prison now in my hands. I didn't tape them, so I felt a little less bothered by the legal implications.

I did start to worry, however, driving next to a police officer, forcing my eyes ahead. The box was sitting next to me, reminding me of the consequences. What if Ken had a change of heart, telling the police I had some how been involved. Possession was nine tenths of the law. I saw my bank at the corner, just a few blocks from my home, and pulled in. Luckily, they were open from noon to 4pm on Saturdays. I had just made it. I upgraded my safety deposit box size and put the cards safely in a small safe with my passport and other knick knacks I felt compelled to store securely. I left feeling much better about the situation.

Walking out of the bank, Ken texted me. My new buddy.

"She cant tomor. 10 tues. get here by 930. lemme know."

Well, it meant a personal day. I couldn't think of a better reason or anything more personal. I suppose Sunday was a little quick, Beth needing time to recover. Maybe even be a mother and wife for a day. Her priorities seemed a little off, so I couldn't begrudge her trying to make up for them -- in her own mind.

I went home, regretting that I didn't take at least a couple envelopes to see what the subject matter was. But, I was in possession of a prized one, at home, inside the camera. Plus, I had the two recordings from Beth's bedroom. I had more material than I would have thought possible.

I ran inside like a kid running down the stairs to find their presents Christmas morning. I grabbed the memory card from the camera, seeing that it also had 30 gigs of storage. My mind was wild with thoughts and positions I was hoping to find Beth in. Almost sprinting to my computer. I slipped it in, waited for my computer to recognize it, and opened the folders.

One file. Dated today. Nothing more. I tried to be strong, like the boy telling his grandmother how much he loved the new lego set, even though he stopped playing with them years ago. I had to appreciate what I had. I brought the laptop computer up to my bedroom and watched, several times, the debauchery of the day. If it wasn't for the lotion, my penis probably would have caught fire.

Tuesday morning could not come quick enough for me. Despite going to bed somewhat late Monday, spending more time on prep work than I thought necessary, I woke up one hour before my alarm. My excitement was so great that I don't even know that I actually slept for more than two hours, lying in bed all night, thinking nervously about 10am. Six in the morning did not seem early when, in just four hours, my ex wife would be putting on a naked yoga show for me.

I sat at Denny's for about two hours, eager to get out of the house. It was going to be a grand slam of a morning, so I figured a grand slam meal was in order. I made sure everything was in order. Camera fully charged. Memory card clean and full. My outfit, soft and ready for easy access. My hair was perfect. My mind was focussed. I left a $50 bill, happy with the knowledge that the next couple of hours were going to be priceless.

Ken was all smiles when we met.

"Hey. Ready?"

He sounded as excited as I felt. We talked briefly, Ken showing me the bag of fresh supplies that he bought for the morning. We walked into the studio, looking things over, the layout, the matt that was much larger than yesterdays, positioned in just the right location. As we talked, Ken's phone chirped. We both looked at the screen. There was an icon of a woman, bent over, in a thong. I recognized Beth immediately. He read the text out loud.

"On my way. New Outfit! Hooray!!! XOXO. E."

So, we had three overly excited parties, all for different reasons. Ken walked with me back to his office and into the walk-in closet. There in front of me was the 3 foot by 6 foot cutout that I stood behind a few days ago, watching Ken abuse Beth through a one way mirror. Ken looked also.

123
  • Index
  • /
  • Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Exhibitionist & Voyeur
  • /
  • A Secret Revealed Pt. 04

All contents © Copyright 1996-2023. Literotica is a registered trademark.

Desktop versionT.O.S.PrivacyReport a ProblemSupport

Version ⁨1.0.2+795cd7d.adb84bd⁩

We are testing a new version of this page. It was made in 11 milliseconds