Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 THE SNOOP

   by Mr.  and Mrs.  Ovid





   The story that follows is, except for name changes and some modest
artistic

   license, a true story.  It describes events that played a critical role
in my marriage.

   Because these events had such a traumatic effect on me, I decided to
write the story as

   a way of exorcizing the demons that the events had evoked.  I have not
found it easy.

   In preparation for writing this (or perhaps as a way of
procrastinating), I first wrote

   three fantasies (The Candyman, Drawing It In, and Tiger Ass).  Those
stories were

   fiction, although the astute reader will recognize the origin of some
themes upon

   reading the following story, which is not fiction.



   When I discussed with my wife my intention to write this story (which,
after

   all, involved her) she had some reservations.  Finally, she encouraged
me but insisted

   that I append her version of the story.  That way, she could also work
out her own

   feelings about the events, and the reader would gain a more objective
(or at least a

   different subjective) view of what transpired.  Therefore, Part I of the
story is my

   version, written first.  Part II will be my wife's version, written
after she reads my

   version, which may repeat some of the incidents of Part I and will
describe the final

   events.





   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 lowlight 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
pulled 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 focused.  His mouth opened slightly.  His fist
moved faster.  His

   knees bent slightly as he focused 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.





   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 seem to have
that much

   repair business, but I thought maybe he 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 arose, 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 that occupied
so much of

   his time and kept him away from me.  So, 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 my husband 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