The obsession with taking photos secretly

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

I love my wife very much. Married for over ten years, she can no longer be called young, but her beauty in my eyes remains as striking as ever. In the darkness, her body seems to glow, and I want to be with her all night long.

However, feelings are mutual. My wife rarely responds to my passion. When I try to make love to her in another room, she refuses with pre-prepared excuses like fatigue or the children. At that time, I came up with the idea of secretly filming my wife's shy posture.

I know it's immoral. But if I don't do it, our relationship might break down sooner. On sleepless nights, I watch videos of my wife and masturbate, using this to possess her.

I filmed her showering, changing clothes, and making love—more than 60 videos in total. Those images made me love my wife even more: bending forward, her hips contracting and opening, her lips holding my penis… every posture reflected there was incredibly adorable.

For those who are unmarried or newly married, this is certainly a feeling that is difficult to understand. Indeed, youth is omnipotent.

Even I can't possibly dislike young women. But after marriage, the husband's repeated declarations of love, met with the wife's repeated rejections—this contrast must have a reason.

If this problem arises during courtship, one can simply find another girlfriend. But if the two get married, form a family, and have children… seeking a new love is unwise. You must make a long-term, loving effort in relation to your choice, and require endurance.

I've been troubled by my wife's lack of response. I feel that to her, I'm nothing more than a "tool" when she's in a good mood. The solution? I've never figured it out.

My wife's aversion to sex with me must be due to the influence of her past experiences. As the filming progressed, this became increasingly clear.

Knowing that I still held a place in my wife's heart filled me with immense joy. However, one problem after another arose, and more serious and difficult issues followed. I've also thought how blissful it would be to know nothing about my wife's past, but it's too late to turn back.

What I'm about to tell is just a story for many. But for me, it's a source of so much distress. As long as I don't make a mistake, my wife and lover don't matter… But is that really true?

Is this the price of my growth? What kind of love do I, as a husband, truly yearn for? I still haven't found the answer. The

incident of secretly filming my sleeping wife happened ten years ago. After we got married, we had a child, and to document his growth, we bought a video camera.

That night, the weather was extremely hot and humid. Worried about affecting my wife's health, we turned off the air conditioning in our room, leaving only the screen window open and a small fan running slowly.

I worked very late, not getting off work until after 10 pm. Pushing open the door and entering the living room, I suddenly realized I hadn't eaten dinner.

The dishes my wife had prepared were placed on the table, covered. She was already asleep on the tatami mat with the child—the energetic child was putting a lot of pressure on her. "I'm home," I whispered, but no one answered.

That summer, my wife wore an oversized t-shirt made from altered Western-style pajamas and a small, old cotton dress. A restless sleeper, she tossed and turned several times each night, often revealing too much skin.

Around the fourth year of our marriage, signs of marital discord began to appear. She focused most of her attention on the children, leaving me, her husband, neglected. Each time I tried to make love, she would always make up excuses. Lately, we'd barely had sex once a month.

After the baby was born, my wife shared a room with the child, while I was left alone in another room. When I couldn't bear it any longer, I would masturbate. My resentment towards my wife's constant excuses grew.

This time, I went to my wife's bedroom again, standing motionless, looking down at her sleeping body: she was only wearing a sleeveless shirt and shorts, completely unguarded. Suddenly, I decided: I had to film this. Actually, ever since I bought the camera, I'd been looking for such an opportunity.

Back in my own room, I quickly took off my tie, trousers, and shirt, leaving only my underwear. From the moment I made up my mind, my penis became hard. I took the camera from the bookshelf and returned to the living room.

During the renovation, we used partitions to separate the living room and bedroom to create more usable space; of course, we also needed good ventilation to reduce the use of air conditioning.

I started with my wife's face: her slightly parted lips, her arms peeking out at an angle… all under the fluorescent light. A completely unguarded pose! But her genitals and breasts were covered; how could I film them?

When my wife was young, she was very careful with her body hair. She said she would pluck it regularly with tweezers; of course, her body hair was very light-colored, so there was no need to remove the baby hair on her arms and legs.

However, from around 35 years old, she stopped removing it and let it grow naturally. If she raised her hands, you could see particularly prominent, lush pubic hair under her armpits.

"What if other people see it in the summer?"

I asked, but the answer I received was the nonchalant "I don't wear transparent clothes."

Even with the risk of being seen, she didn't shave; was it just because it was too much trouble, or was there some other reason she didn't mention? However, I could guess a thing or two about my wife's thoughts.

It happened several years ago, when we were riding the tram together. It was a holiday, and we were out sightseeing and visiting some friends. We were both wearing t-shirts and jeans, and my wife's pubic hair was already in its natural state.

Although the tram was incredibly crowded, there were buffer zones for passengers getting on and off. My wife and I were a few meters apart in the carriage. She was holding onto the handrail in front of a two-seater near the door, while I was standing in a four-seater a little further inside, reading a pocket book.

I glanced at my wife casually and noticed a young man, around 20 years old, sitting in front of her, seemingly staring intently at the area around her arm holding the handrail.

The bright-colored short-sleeved shirt, with her arm raised, made it easy to spot from different angles; I'd had that experience myself a few times.

The young man had been staring at my wife's pubic hair since then. Because her t-shirt was white, it was definitely bright underneath, making it easy to see clearly. He appeared innocent and pure, but quickly lowered his eyes, only to refocus them on that spot again.

My heart began to race with excitement, both for the young man's eyes and for my wife's exposed skin.

Sitting diagonally behind him, I initially wondered: Had my wife not noticed? She seemed to be looking at the scenery from above the young man's head, but occasionally her gaze would subtly shift towards his face. It seemed that even if she knew she was being watched, she wouldn't change her posture.

The platform arrived, the young man got off the tram, and this time my wife sat in his seat. We exchanged a glance. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could feel her flushed cheeks and moist pupils. I smiled at her: "Or...don't you like showing skin?"

I didn't ask my wife immediately. Later, I tried to probe, but she didn't respond, so I continued to play dumb.

My wife's disheveled body aroused an unusual excitement within me. I carefully and silently moved to her feet. Her shorts were quite loose, with a gap between them, revealing the top of her thighs.

This style, while not as revealing as a miniskirt, offers a wonderful feeling of peeking into what a woman considers a safe place without her noticing. Just place a finger on the fabric covering her chest and lift it gently; the nipple is visible.

My wife's sleeping posture is quite unladylike; her legs are spread wide, about 60 degrees, as if deliberately positioned that way. What if other men see her like that? The window is just a screen, and the curtains aren't open.

Her sleeveless shirt can't fully cover her breasts; one is exposed, the other hidden. Some of my wife's nipples are cool, some are warm, but they are always erect, whether she's aroused or not. During lovemaking, I prefer to hold them in my palms.

The luxury apartment building has 10 floors; we live on the 4th. This is the suburbs, along the river. Because the walls of our room aren't shared with other families, there are no annoying noises at night, and certainly no unnecessary arguments.

My wife sleeps in a Japanese-style room with a framed window about 2 meters off the ground. Outside is a small balcony. Right now, the river, several tens of meters wide, extends to the side of the road, with a few scattered buildings on the opposite bank.

This side of the river is a purely residential street, but it contains both detached houses and apartments, as well as many bank-like buildings. The station was in that direction; my home was just across the ferry bridge.

My sleeping wife lay parallel to the window, so of course, no one could see into her underwear from the outside. However, if I used binoculars, I could definitely see her swollen breasts and the base of her thighs.

This was the fourth floor; there was no worry about passersby peeping in. Furthermore, the river's width and distance created a sense of security, especially in summer, and my wife was completely oblivious to outside views.

I tried moving the crotch area of my wife's shorts to one side. The white underwear covered her mons pubis, the end overlapping with her fishnet stockings—no sign of my wife waking up.

I photographed my wife from various angles: the side of her face, the protrusion of her breasts, the erectness of her nipples, trying to aim between her thighs from a low angle, shooting her whole body from above… I also experimented with angles from the balcony and other secluded spots.

To remove her clothes, the ropes wrapped around her flesh… just thinking about it made my penis almost explode.

But, with the child beside me, it was impossible to actually do it with my wife.

I gently stroked along the ridge of her labia from above her underwear, feeling the vibrancy of her pubic hair and labia even through the thin fabric. At the same time, my wife's body temperature seemed to be rising. She's such a lovely person; I like her more and more.

My wife remained asleep, her lips slightly parted. I grabbed the edge of her underwear and secretly lifted it up.

The lens focused on her white skin and the swirling pubic hair. It felt like sneaking into someone else's house and spying on a stranger's genitals.

Thinking back, if my own wife were violated by a strange man from the balcony… I knew this thought was wicked, but it gave me immense excitement: from my heart pounding earlier to the dampness on the front of my underwear, I was almost entranced.

My wife's skin was very white, but the area between her thighs was relatively darker. This wasn't just true of her genitals; from her perineum to her anus, it was the same: some areas were slightly blackish, some dark brown.

I didn't know much about my wife's boyfriend before marriage. Only once, when she was drunk, did she talk about him. At the time, he seemed to have considerable skill in this area. Seeing his expertise

, I felt clumsy and naturally ashamed. However, my wife never brought up the topic again after

she sobered up. How had that man taught and developed her? Later, having progressed to a certain level, I tried to conduct suggestive interrogations of my wife before sex, but she wouldn't confess.

However, her physical reactions in the bedroom convinced me that she had engaged in exhibitionist play with that man. Later, it turned out my guess was very close. During

the first secret filming, my wife's genitals weren't wet. Her dry labia majora were perfectly closed, blocking all the secrets inside. I couldn't lift her underwear too forcefully, lest she notice the pressure.

So, I decided to lower it and try stimulating her through her clothing, gently moving my index finger up and down. Considering she might wake up suddenly and be unable to explain the camera, I hid it back in my room.

Returning, I sat next to my wife and slowly stroked her underwear. If I used my tongue directly… Although I thought so, taking off my shorts to lick her genitals was too risky.

At first, I slowly, slowly touched her from the outside, gradually trying to rub the center of her clitoris with my fingertips, but there was almost no reaction. When I put my hand on the edge of her shorts again, intending to look directly at her genitals, my wife rolled over.

My heart nearly jumped out of my throat, and after a long while, I finally mustered the courage again. This time I tried from her buttocks, but my fingers couldn't reach the area around her clitoris. Although I also tried touching her other anus, it still felt somewhat inadequate.

My wife has been sleeping very lightly lately; I could hear her breathing as she was about to wake up. I silently and quickly returned to the living room and started eating. To calm my arousal, I considered ejaculating in my own room first, but if my wife found out, it would be troublesome to explain.

I put the cooled food in the microwave to reheat it. After a while, my wife got up, greeting me as if her eyes were still half-closed: "You're only back now?"

"Ah, lots of work…"

I said, returning to the living room, carefully observing my wife's profile, but there was nothing unusual.

That was my first experience with voyeurism, uneventful. However, it was still an exciting first step. Over the next few summers, I tried a few more times, but I always felt my wife was conscious.

One photo shows her wearing only a t-shirt and no underwear, and another shows her wearing a small nightgown. That time, I rolled up her nightgown all the way, pulled down her panties, and revealed her beautiful pubic hair.

There were times when my wife suddenly woke up and became intimate with me, and times when she was speechless and at a loss.

Of course, I copied all these videos onto VHS tapes when my wife and children were out, and used them for masturbation late at night.

The desire to see a woman's shy figure was probably something I had from the beginning. From that first experience, through dozens of voyeuristic filming sessions, I continuously discovered the differences between my wife and other women. Everything started that night.

[The End]

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The obsession with taking photos secretly

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