Wife in the lens

I remember it was early July. I put the children, who had just bathed, to bed first, then sat in the living room, enjoying
a quiz show. Every day after finishing the housework, my wife would take a shower.
I waited for the sound of her washing herself in the bathroom. My wife's showers took a long time, so I should have plenty of
time to put the empty tape into the camera, then discreetly place it in the corner of the shoe cabinet and adjust the angle.
I tried a few times near the sink, and once I was satisfied, I turned it on and waited for my wife.
Soon, my wife came out of the bathroom. My heart was pounding. Hadn't she noticed?
I couldn't afford to make a mistake. To cover it up, I went to the door and talked to my wife.
"How was work today?"
my wife asked, drying herself as she began to talk about her day. I subtly changed the subject,
shifting her attention to myself.
"Hey, what time is the show you want to watch?" my wife asked, very concerned about the weekly schedule changes
.
"11 o'clock, I guess."
My wife walked past me towards the living room. I intentionally concealed the camera's position, casually
moving it as if it hadn't attracted my wife's attention.
I couldn't take the camera through the living room now; my wife was still there. I needed to put it in a safe place.
I pretended to check the doorway and placed the camera in the trash can by the door.
Stimulated by the successful surreptitious filming, my lower body was still aroused as I reviewed the programs. Sitting
on the sofa, I kissed my wife's cheek and tried to hug her shoulders, but
I wasn't particularly interested in my wife, who was engrossed in television.
Late at night, I secretly retrieved the camera and connected it to the television in my room to confirm the results: my wife's naked body was clearly
visible . She turned her buttocks towards the camera, bent over to clean the washbasin, and spread her legs to wipe her groin with a towel
...
I comforted myself as I watched the secretly filmed video.
My wife, not yet thirty, was as vibrant as she was on our honeymoon. Her body curves were slightly
distorted, and there was a little fat starting to appear on her lower abdomen. How could such a beautiful body often need to pause in daily life?
It was truly strange.
Her breasts were somewhat small, but well-shaped and had ample tension. They trembled
from side to side . My wife's fair skin and the shadow below her navel were clearly visible; she made no attempt to cover
them up.
I was no longer a husband; I had become a lecherous voyeur spying on another man's wife bathing. What I saw on television
was more alluring than the naked body in real life—a natural, seductive allure. This greatly satisfied my lust and my desire
for revenge .
Because she had to put on shorts and tidy up after the bath, my wife didn't realize she was being filmed. For the next few days, I
was so worried that I didn't smile when talking to people.
I experienced an unprecedented pleasure, a feeling of dominating my wife.
What would happen if the neighbors saw this tape? If I asked my sister-in-law to film the same thing, we could
exchange bodies, right? I was immersed in that wicked thought, but several attempts failed, and I didn't dare to do it.
At the same time, because of repeatedly and shamelessly watching my wife's figure, I
became more and more . The thought, "This woman is mine," appeared for the first time. This, perhaps, wasn't love.
Such voyeurism is difficult to carry out unless several conditions are met simultaneously. The wooden door opened naturally, and
it was only about two months into the summer. Putting together clips from different periods and comparing
the changes in the wife's hairstyle and figure is truly poignant.
Flipping through the video rack, I stumbled upon a disc labeled "Miko Dancing." It showed my wife, wearing
a collarless, long-sleeved bodysuit brought from her parents' home, dancing in what looked like a practice area. Judging from the atmosphere
and her hairstyle, she was probably 24 or 25, perhaps younger. Behind her,
a mirror , reflecting the man filming.
His face, hidden behind the camera, wasn't visible, but he was tall and thin, with long hair,
wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, possessing an artistic air—more like
a professional musician or photographer than a staff member.
The mirror also showed the view outside the window behind the camera and inside: outside, a vast expanse of green stretched out,
like a park; judging from the lighting and clothing, it was probably a summer daytime scene.
My wife danced closer to the camera. It was as if no one else existed in that space.
My wife wore a thin, pink, collarless, long-sleeved bodysuit, the lower half the same color, making her quite tall.
Unlike the unflattering figures I was used to seeing pregnant women, her legs, waist, and thighs were all taut, and I couldn't help but swallow hard.
Dancers usually practice by putting on their bodysuits first, then layering the collarless, long-sleeved bodysuit on top. But in the video,
my wife, whether from the heat or some other reason, seemed to be wearing nothing underneath.
Maybe she was wearing flesh-colored stockings, I thought. But upon closer inspection, her feet were definitely her natural
skin . I muttered, "Wearing this to be filmed by a man..."
My wife frequently changed positions, as if practicing overtime. Whenever she made a mistake, she turned to the camera and smiled:
"Failed, sorry, want to try again?"
Her voice held a faint hint of coquettishness, and her eyes seemed to hold something unusual.
Was my wife asking the man, or was the man offering? It couldn't be determined from the video, but her
expression showed she trusted him—this must have happened before she met me.
Accompanied by a light, rhythmic beat, her beautiful breasts swayed up and down. The leotard was not only light-colored but also thin, clinging tightly to the skin. Through the collarless , long-sleeved leotard
, the shape of her breasts was particularly pronounced; though small,
they were quite full and rounded. As she moved, her pointed nipples peeked out from under the leotard; I could see them even in the video, and the man filming certainly could see them more clearly. Then, the camera focused on a close -up of my wife's tall lower body (a certain point)... My wife loved classical music when she was young, and later studied modern dance, performing several times a year. Since getting married, she quit her job, and after learning she was pregnant, she even stopped her evening and weekend dance instructor work . Now, nearing 40, my wife still has a beautiful figure. She already had a wasp waist—a small waist and a large bottom—but after childbirth, her waist became slightly fuller. If you admired her naked in the dim light, the curves of her lower abdomen would take on a vibrant hue.

At 20, she did indeed have a very low body fat percentage, with a perfectly proportioned, angular figure. Despite
no training, she had no excess fat and was practically flawless.
My young wife danced in thin-soled ballet shoes on screen; didn't she realize it?
Because she wasn't wearing a bra, the fabric of her leotard peeked out in a V-shape between her hips.
She danced with complete focus, but to me, it was more repulsive than nudity. Her pink, collarless, long-sleeved
bodysuit perfectly displayed her entire body's contours, including the protrusion of her nipples and the curve of her mons pubis.
Facing the camera, she knelt on the floor, leaning back. My gaze was drawn to her chest and hips:
the roots of her thighs seemed to show a deep, dark pigmentation.
A mirror was on the wall; my wife should have known her predicament: the protrusions of her breasts and the indentation of her labia… Yet she
continued dancing with unwavering focus.
Sweat seeped into her collarless, long-sleeved bodysuit, casting dark shadows. The cloth covering her crotch seemed to be double-layered, and every time
she opened her legs, the line between her beautiful buttocks was visible.
The photographer must have been a man we had a relationship with. He wouldn't have
displayed something like this without a deep personal connection, would he? The bright daylight softened the lewd impression, and my wife's expression was also pleasant, as if she was enjoying it
.
However, the man definitely had despicable motives. That man, able to feast his eyes on my wife's young body so closely, even right before
her eyes , filled me with intense jealousy, perhaps anger; my
penis was unusually erect.
I discovered this around the time my wife went to her parents' home to give birth. During this period, I
ate entirely at convenience stores. Although fast food wasn't very nutritious, I enjoyed this rare freedom.
At least at night I didn't have to be wary of my wife and could indulge in watching Playboy and AV films. Back then, there was no
internet , and I couldn't easily access images on overseas servers like I do now.
I carefully checked all the tapes, but was greatly disappointed; I couldn't find anything similar. Even
this video only had the last 15 minutes.
Was this a unique copy, or a stray? I was confused. Perhaps my wife viewed
the videotape with a positive outlook ; perhaps…
there are many possibilities, but one thing is clear: my wife, who is extremely mechanically challenged, has no
ability to process the original tape into VHS format. So, the problem arises: where is the original tape? It must still be
with that man, which is absolutely unacceptable to me as his husband.
I masturbated while watching the tape, fantasizing about reaching orgasm with her. Displaying myself in
near- … wasn't that also my wife's wish?

[The End]

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