Masked Desires Unleashed:
A Voyeur Husband's Shocking Discovery

Surprises aren’t always good, you know! And I hate being out of town so much. But it pays the rent, buys groceries, and keeps us in transportation. So what the hey? My wife had been planning a party for quite a while. Then, at the last moment, I had to fill in for a colleague who needed to take care of his ill mother. I say “had to,” but looking back, the trip really could have waited a week while his mother was laid up.

My wife was, of course, really pissed at me. But I had promised him, and our boss had heard me promise, and I just don’t break promises. To placate my wife, I told her to go ahead and have the party anyway. I said I’d get back if I possibly could, but not to count on it. I promised to call her if I could make the late afternoon plane.

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Then I forgot to take the stupid battery charger for my cell phone. You know, Murphy’s Law.

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My wife is one of those people who can’t do anything halfway. So, unbeknownst to me until later, she had planned an elaborate masked ball. It almost made me glad I couldn’t make it! Sorry.

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My meetings ended half an hour early. I tried to call on my cell phone, but of course the battery was dead. Looking at my watch, it was clear I couldn’t both make the flight and find a payphone to call my wife. So I took a chance, scrambled to the airport, and luckily hopped on the last flight, grabbing the last available seat just before the doors closed.

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Murphy, God bless him, was still with me when I got to my hometown airport. My car wouldn’t start! I did everything I knew how to do, but to no avail. I had grease on my suit and up to my elbows. It took an hour for AAA to arrive and get me started. Dead battery—like, replacement dead, not “recharge it and you’re good” dead. I arrived home dirty, pissed off, and over a hundred bucks lighter in my wallet.

I snuck into the downstairs bathroom I’d recently been building off the utility room. It was private, the shower worked, but it wasn’t yet soundproof by any stretch of the imagination! But it sufficed to get the grease off and make me smell less like a mechanic.

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I heard a number of guests talking jovially as I showered as quietly as I could. After I shut off the water and was trying to dry off with a flimsy little hand towel, I heard my wife’s best friend giggling. There’s no way you can mistake this woman’s laugh, believe me. Then she asked whoever was with her if her husband was going to make it. My wife’s voice answered, “No, damn it! And I’ve just had it with his constant traveling! This party meant a lot to me, and he took this trip just so a colleague could go see his mother!”

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Her friend then asked, “So you gonna loosen up then and have fun tonight?”

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Shocked at the turn in the conversation, I strained to hear my wife’s answer.

“You’re damn straight I am! Just watch me! No one knows who’s under these masks anyway, right?”

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Her friend chortled that awful laugh of hers as they turned the corner and moved out of earshot.

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My brain was racing a million miles an hour. I didn’t mind my wife having fun at her own party, after all. And I trusted her totally. Didn’t I? I mean, had she ever done anything to make me think she wasn’t trustworthy? I couldn’t think of a single thing. But I still felt my bowels turn queasy at the thought. I think it was the devilish way her friend laughed as they went down the basement hallway that had me so worked up.

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This house we’d bought a few years before was designed and built by an architect. You know how weird that sort of house can get, right? There was a little office on the top floor that overlooked the whole ground floor and, somehow, even a fairly large part of the basement.

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My guilty brain told me that if I just went up to the office, I could hide out and not have to confront my wife until after everyone had gone home. Yeah, I know—I’m not good at confrontations, which is most likely why I hadn’t said “no” to my colleague and my boss regarding the damn trip.

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Laden with guilt, I snuck up the stairs to my little sanctuary, listening carefully before moving until I was pretty certain no one was on the stairs for a few moments. I made it just fine, shutting the door and locking it behind me. I, of course, left the light off. Otherwise, I risked my wife coming up to see what the hell was going on up there.

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I slumped into my chair, wishing I could turn on my computer and check emails. But the light from the screen would have shown that someone was in the office. So I sat there, bored and still a little pissed off.

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In a few seconds, it became obvious that I could hear many separate conversations. It also became clear that the lights in the rest of the house were turned down pretty dim. I wasn’t going to be able to read a book, my other favorite way of passing time.

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So I turned to the only other thing I could think of. I stood up and started watching the people below me. I could hear a few snippets of their conversations. As I moved around my office, peering into the gloom below, I tried to figure out who was who. I recognized a few voices. There was our next-door neighbor trying to feel up some woman dressed as a German beer-serving wench. Nice cleavage! But my neighbor was a cad; I already knew that. He finally got his face slapped, to which I had to stifle a chuckle.

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Then, off in one of the darker rooms, I saw a couple passionately kissing. This was getting interesting! I could see the man’s hand slowly making its way up a brunette woman’s short skirt. The woman was not protesting or trying to shove his hand away. Soon his hand was obviously at its goal. I could tell because the woman leaned back a bit and spread her legs farther apart. I heard a soft moan escape her. My crotch gave a bit of a lurch. This could end up being fun, I realized.

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The man slowly kissed his way down the woman’s neck and across her chest until his lips began to descend toward her still-buttoned cleavage. His pale hand contrasted perfectly against the woman’s black silky blouse as he slowly unbuttoned her clothing. The woman made no attempt to stop the man’s advances. I started to hope I’d get to be a total voyeur and see them go all the way! That would be a first.

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Her breasts were gorgeous—full and firm and high. There was just enough light that I could see her small, pert nipples against the whiteness of her creamy skin. His mouth devoured them one by one as his hand slowly worked her skirt farther and farther up her alabaster thighs.

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About that time, I heard my wife’s friend’s inimitable giggle again. I tried to locate my wife’s distinctive blonde hairdo. I was pretty sure I saw her circulating, so I started feeling safe that my wife was still making her impeccable social rounds.

I focused again on the couple below me. The man’s hand was already on her stomach. The woman was obviously shaved, because I could detect no hair on her sweet little naked pussy. She hadn’t worn panties tonight! I could almost make out the shadows of her vaginal lips as the man’s hand slowly worked its way around her thighs and stomach, circling ever closer to his natural goal.

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I heard the woman murmur, “Mmmmm, hmmm,” as though encouraging him to touch her there.

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He did.

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The woman spread her thighs wider, leaning back farther onto the bed they were sitting on. Our guest bed was new; we’d only bought the sheets and shams for it the week before.

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I had intended to christen it a few days earlier but had suddenly had to make the ill-fated trip. So as I watched the couple becoming more and more entwined, I reluctantly realized that the privilege of its christening was not to be mine.

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I quickly turned to make certain my wife was still doing her hostess duties. I saw her blonde hair again as she replenished snacks and beverages for her guests. Her mask was bright blue and seemed at odds with her shoulder-length blonde hair. She had obviously been to the hairdresser that day. She looked fabulous—even with that awful blue mask! Her blouse was a bit open at the cleavage, and I realized that from my vantage point, I could look halfway down her blouse. What a pair of gorgeous knockers my wife has, I thought proudly.

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Turning back to the amorous couple, I was delighted to see that the woman was now on her knees, fellating her lover. He had a very nice penis, I grudgingly admitted to myself—wonderfully thick and fairly long too. I felt a bit of penis envy.

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I saw my wife’s blonde hair and blue mask moving slowly toward the guest bedroom as she chatted with guests. The rumble of conversation was now a pleasant din. I knew my wife would be satisfied with the turnout and how the party was going. I was happy for her.

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Not wanting to miss the erotic fireworks, I turned back to the couple in the guest bedroom. The lucky woman had the man’s penis hard and wonderfully deep in her throat. I could hear his moans now as her mouth did what every woman’s mouth should be good at. I saw him slowly remove his cock from her mouth. She seemed to resist its removal, but when he gently pushed her onto her back on the bed, she smiled widely, her face moving as though watching his erection advance toward its ultimate goal.

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She reached toward his phallus, guiding it to her cleft, chuckling lightly as the man moved into position above her.

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I saw my wife, now standing in front of the guest bedroom door, still chatting with a guest dressed as a butcher. I was shocked to see her reach down and deliberately give his crotch a playful slap, as though sharing a ribald joke. I’d have to ask her about that!

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The man’s erection was now poised at the entrance to heaven in my private little voyeuristic episode. I realized that my hand was caressing my own erection. I shifted slightly to relieve the tension, then thought better of it and unzipped myself. My penis was almost too hard to get out of my trousers, but I managed with only a little discomfort.

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I watched wide-eyed as the man’s organ slowly spread the woman’s willing petals.

I saw my wife’s head tilt toward the door as if listening to what might be transpiring inside. She smiled slightly as we both heard the enthralled woman gasp when the man socketed deep within her. They settled into stillness as they stared into each other’s eyes. In the darkness, I thought I could see a slightly bemused smile on the woman’s face. I clearly heard her emit another “Mmmmmmmmm!”

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I saw my wife’s mouth smile again. I decided that my wife must be in on the tryst occurring in our guest bedroom. It had been a long time since I’d heard my wife’s best friend’s distinctive and annoying laugh. Perhaps she too was amorously occupied?

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I fantasized about my wife’s brunette friend being the woman with the shaved pussy below. The man, now balls-deep within her, was clearly not her husband.

I suddenly wondered if my wife was covering for her best friend. Then it occurred to me: if my wife would cover for her best friend, would her best friend cover for my wife? I felt a tinge of worry. I resumed masturbating as the woman moaned softly again. I heard the man’s testicles softly slapping a rhythm against her sweet alabaster ass.

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My wife smiled as she listened at the door.

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The couple started making the noises of people closing in on orgasm. My eyes were riveted on the action. Someone walked past my wife, causing her to say something to him. Her too-wide smile seemed meant to convey that the person should move along. The person’s hair was the sort that could be either a man’s or a woman’s. The person suddenly kissed my wife fully and passionately on the lips.

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And just at that second, the couple reached simultaneous orgasms, their sounds obvious to anyone listening nearby. I felt my own orgasm surge. Despite being shocked at my wife’s lingering kiss with the stranger, whoever it was started to caress her bum. I lost the feeling just short of the point of no return, though my cock was still aching.

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The man was still slamming hard into the whimpering woman as their orgasms lasted an inordinately long time. I envied the man’s obvious staying power. I wondered at the amount of sperm he must have delivered deep into the woman’s vaginal sheath.

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As the lovers slowly stopped their activity, the person kissing my wife stooped to nestle their lips to her bosom, a hand coming up to hold her breast as the stranger’s lips delivered succulent kisses on plump flesh. The person suddenly stood back up, gave my wife a kiss on the forehead, and left the house. Baffled, jealous, and mildly upset, my eyes glared at the person until they were out the front door.

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I looked back down and saw that the couple were not yet done with their tryst! The man was again thrusting into the woman. What marvelous staying power he must have, I thought idly as I still fumed about who my wife had kissed with such willing familiarity.

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My wife was still listening at the door. Many of her guests were now leaving. It seemed odd to me that she wasn’t seeing them out, telling them good night as she usually did. But then I was again becoming enthralled by the hard, deep thrusting the man was giving the woman. It was very clear now that his testicles were slamming into her. I heard her murmur something. He pulled out of her. She turned over and got onto her knees, her chest deeply bowed toward the bed. She eagerly reached between her thighs and guided his member back into her.

 

He quickly resumed his punishment of her vagina. His hands reached around and caressed her breasts. I saw her rise slightly and take his hand, crushing his fingers into her titties. She moaned deeply and began to cum. He began to mash both of her breasts brutally as her sounds of orgasm filled my ears. She came for what seemed like an eternity as his hands brutally mashed her full breasts. It seemed as though the more brutal he treated her, the harder she came. He suddenly swatted her ass cheek with a resounding whack.

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I was shocked to see my wife reach between her own thighs and begin to frig herself to the tempo of the couple inside the room. Several other people gathered around the door and listened to the obvious and unmistakable activities transpiring inside. Their soft chuckles drifted up to my ears as I watched the man now slamming his hips into the woman’s ass as hard as he could. Suddenly he let out a long groan of expiration, holding his hips against hers for a long time.

 

After a few moments, I saw his flaccid member slowly evacuate her as it slid from paradise. Strings of white bridged between their bodies. They remained in their carnal position for a while longer, as though savoring their treasured forbidden ecstasy for a few extra stolen moments.

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Finally, they disengaged and dressed. They kissed for a few awkward moments before the man suddenly looked at his watch and hurriedly left the room. He almost ran into my wife, who was still straining to hear what was transpiring.

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After he was gone, my wife slipped into the room and hugged the brunette woman for a long time as they whispered back and forth.

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I was still stroking my cock, having been too distracted to reach my goal despite the erotic spectacle I’d witnessed. The moment had passed, and though I was incredibly aroused, I knew I wouldn’t be able to reach orgasm until I no longer had to worry about getting caught. I tucked myself away and adjusted my clothing.

Then it suddenly occurred to me: How would I explain appearing at this time of night and announcing I was home?

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So I stayed in my office loft and watched my wife bid the remaining guests goodbye, then clean up the snacks and bottles. Finally, she turned out the lights one by one. I heard her shuffle down the hallway to our master bedroom.

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I felt like shit. Here I was acting like I wasn’t home, having watched a couple fucking for most of the night, having watched my wife getting fresh with someone, and now I had to figure out how to make my belated appearance.

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Then it hit me: the flight got delayed! I was ecstatic.

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When all the noises had finally stopped and I was certain the lights in the master bedroom were off, I waited a few more minutes. Finally, when I thought I could hear my wife’s somnolent breathing in the super stillness of the night, I slowly snuck down the stairs to the garage, then made a noisy “entry.” I called out, “It’s just me, hon! Don’t be scared! The flight got delayed. Sorry!” I saw that the light in our master bedroom had been turned on. Then it went back off. I figured I was most likely in trouble.

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But I crept into our bedroom, trying not to trip on the dark items strewn uncharacteristically across the floor, undressed, and slid into bed as quietly as I could.

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“You missed a good party, honey,” my wife said softly.

 

“Sorry, hon,” I replied, trying to sound properly contrite. I snuggled up to her backside, putting my hand around her stomach. Her mussed blonde hair tickled my nose. My previously stimulated erection returned unbidden. Hoping for a quickie, I raised my hand to my wife’s breast. I felt her stiffen when I touched her. I slowly caressed her breast, hoping to arouse her enough that she wouldn’t turn me down. I really needed release!

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My heart sank when, in just a few seconds, she murmured, “That hurts, honey. My breasts are really, really sensitive tonight. Just slip inside me and do what you want to do, OK?” She pulled my hand from her chest but spread her legs as she turned onto her stomach.

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I slipped inside her without any trouble—her pussy was incredibly slick and wet. I thought she must have enjoyed listening to the couple as much as I had. It didn’t take me long to reach my peak. Like the man earlier in the evening, I held my hips tightly against the soft flesh that had pleasured me. Then, as I softened and pulled out, the moon became bright, and I saw the distinct, unmistakable palm print on my wife’s white ass cheek.

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