I Caught My Wife In Bed With My Boss: Part 1

I thought I knew Pamela. We’d been married for so long that I truly thought I knew her. But I don’t. And when I find out what she’s been up to, I begin to realise that there are also things about myself that I didn’t know…

I’d had my suspicions for a while.

The first thing was a slight change in her behaviour. We’d been married for six years and we knew each other as well as anyone could know anyone. Or so I thought. These early small changes were barely perceptible; a hesitation here; an awkward silence there. I didn’t worry about it too much but it was there; something felt different.

I remember it was a Wednesday when this ‘something’ turned into a bad feeling. I don’t know why I remember the day of the week. I just do. I was at work and for whatever reason, this bad feeling made me call her. She didn’t answer the house phone, so I called her mobile. No answer again. This was strange. My lovely Pamela almost always answered the phone. She was never far from her phone. If she wasn’t skimming Facebook or Instagram, she was chatting with one of her friends or playing Candy Crush. When she was busy, she’d always call me straight back within fifteen minutes or so. For her not to return my call after an hour was strange.

At lunchtime, I tried her again but still couldn’t reach her so I left her a message and then when she did finally call me back, there was that something again. She didn’t sound right. I asked her right then if she was okay and her hesitant and then over-reassuring reply only made served to make me more unsettled.

I didn’t suspect her of cheating at that moment. I thought she’d got some sort of personal issue that she didn’t want to tell me about. I tried — delicately — to get her to open up to me, but all I received were suggestions that I was being paranoid. She was fine. Perhaps she was tired. That must be it. I shouldn’t worry.

What tipped the scales from worry to suspicion was finding the condom wrapper in the bin outside when I was taking the trash out one evening. That should have been an alarm bell but again, I was reassured. She even got angry. The condom wrapper must have come from someone walking down the street. How dare I even ask her? What was I suggesting?

Pamela was lovely, you see. We’d known each other since college, where she’d been one of the quiet girls. Shy and cute with long brunette hair and large, innocent blue eyes. She drew the eye of many a male student but I was the one lucky enough to ask her out and receive a ‘yes’ in reply. We dated for three months before we finally took each other’s virginity in the back seat of my father’s car. That night was a balmy September evening. I remember the smell of her cheap perfume as I kissed her neck. I remember the sound of crickets chirruping through the open window as we clumsily made love.

I tried to push my paranoia from my mind. We were married. She was happy. She’d never led me to believe she was anything but content. However, the nagging feeling that something was wrong wouldn’t leave me alone and I picked up a pattern; a regularity to her offish behaviour.

I don’t know why I remembered that day in the office was a Wednesday but that same day, every week, I would sense her either being slightly distant, or over-attentive. I could almost smell guilt from her. It was a weird sensation, something instinctual and it made me put a plan into motion.

One particular Wednesday, I headed home early. My boss didn’t work Wednesdays or Fridays, so it was easy for me to slip away with a casual excuse to my co-workers that I had a headache and as I turned onto the street where we lived, I saw a silver hatchback pull away from in front of my house. I followed it a short distance because it seemed familiar but a red light separated us and I lost the trail soon after so headed home.

Pamela was shocked to see me, asking why I hadn’t called her and full of suspicions now, I replied by saying that she never answered whenever I called on a Wednesday. It was an indirect accusation and she picked up on it because the next time I called her from work, she picked up right away. I couldn’t try the ‘going home early’ trick again because my boss changed his days off to Monday and Thursday. Of course he did.

My suspicions were waning. It had all been in my head. Pamela returned to something nearer to her normal self. If anything, the days when she did act slightly differently were something Mondays, sometimes Thursdays. For that reason, I didn’t notice. It’s only now, with hindsight, that it all makes sense.

It was a Monday and this time, I genuinely felt ill. I drove home, my head pounding and my stomach churning from what turned out to be a bout of food poisoning from a burger I’d eaten at the game the day before and there it was, as I turned the corner: the silver hatchback. I saw it pull away from the house but this time it turned towards me, rather than away and I saw the driver.

It was my boss, Nick.

Now that was confusing because Nick and Pamela hardly knew each other. They’d met at a couple of work socials that I’d taken her to, but as far as I was aware, they’d never been in touch directly. I was too sick to confront her that day. I needed my bed and to sleep off the horrible bug I’d picked up and by the time I was fully recovered a couple of days later, I’d had time to think about it.

The problem I had was that this wasn’t just a home issue. If my wife was up to something with my boss, it would affect my job as well if I made some sort of baseless accusation made on nothing more than seeing him on my street and a hunch in the pit of my stomach. No, I needed more. I needed proof.

I did some online research and soon came up with an idea. A hidden camera was the answer. I ordered one from eBay and the following weekend, I installed it by connecting it to our WiFi network and hiding it between the suitcases atop the wardrobe where no one would ever think of looking up towards. Then I realised that a single camera might be enough. I ordered a second one and set it up overlooking both the living room and the kitchen, this time tucking it away between two dusty old books that no one had read in a decade.

That fateful Monday was utterly nerve-wracking. I told my boss that I had a meeting at another site over the other side of town so that both he and my wife would feel safe and instead of going into the office, I was sitting in my car two streets away with my laptop on my lap.

I was watching the live feeds from my house with the hope that I was wasting my time and for a long while, it looked like that was going to be the case. Pamela washed the breakfast pots then sat down and watched some TV with a steaming mug of coffee. She ironed some clothes. She tidied up and vacuumed the rug.

Then Nick walked in.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Sure, I’d had my suspicions, but actually seeing my tall, black, bald-headed boss, ten years my senior, walk into my house like he lived there was a shock.

Even more of a shock was how my wife opened her arms to embrace him and then kiss him passionately on the lips. I didn’t move from the car. I was only a two-minute drive away. I could head around there and interrupt them at any time, but I didn’t. Right now, it was just a kiss. If I barged in now, would I have any proof of them doing more than kissing? No. At much as it pained me to let things progress, I had to. I needed to know exactly what was going on.

It didn’t take them long to disappear from view from the downstairs camera. There was little to no talking, not that I would be able to hear them through the weak microphone on the downstairs camera which was too far away. The upstairs camera would be in a better position for audio.

Once they’d walked — hand-in-hand — from the kitchen towards the staircase, I switched the view to the other camera and just a minute or so later, they appeared in the bedroom.

I put the lid down on my laptop with a snap, cursing inside in case I’d broken the screen. I couldn’t watch any further. She was going to cheat on me — and with the arrogant asshole that was my boss.

I stared out of the windscreen for a moment, then turned the ignition. It was time to go home and kick some ass. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I’d lose everything. My wife, my job, my house as it was in her name. I was fucked. I had to do something, but what?

I switched off the engine and slowly opened the laptop, grimacing as I anticipated what I was going to see but when the screen lit up, the image in front of me wasn’t as bad as I’d dreaded.

Pamela and Nick were lying on the bed, both still dressed and appearing to be simply talking. I pressed the ‘volume up’ button to listen.

“Are you sure he doesn’t know?” my wife asked.

“He doesn’t talk to me much in the office,” Nick shrugged, “But Mark says he’s fine. He’s not said anything to him about you, or voiced any concerns.”

“And he talks to Mark a lot, doesn’t he?” Pamela’s hand slid onto Nick’s chest, picking at his top button mischievously.

“Yeah. They’re quite close.” Nick helped her unbutton his shirt further, revealing his surprisingly toned black torso to view the hidden camera.

Mark was the guy who sat opposite me at work. We’d been colleagues for almost as long as Pamela and I had been married and I considered him a good friend. To hear his name brought up in this shitty situation was another kick in the teeth but I kept listening and watching all the same.

“I love him, you know,” Pamela said. “He’s my husband. I’m never going to leave him. You do know that, yeah?”

“Totally,” Nick said, helping her with his belt buckle. This was hard to watch. “No strings. I don’t want to screw up my marriage either.”

“This is just a bit of fun,” Pamela murmured, her hand sliding into his boxer shorts and then pulling out his penis as he helped her by lowering his trousers. “No attachments. Just sex.”

“Good sex,” he grinned. I couldn’t help but stare at my wife’s hand. It was wrapped around another man’s cock. A black cock. A long, thick, black cock. It didn’t seem real. It was as though I was watching some weird deep fake porn. Another couple about to have sex but with my boss’s and wife’s faces blended in.

Pamela was jerking him off, getting him fully hard and while she did, he tugged down her sweatpants and she did nothing to stop him. Again, I took pause to digest what I was seeing as he now took off her top, so she was in only her underwear. My beloved Pamela, almost naked with a guy, in our bedroom, on our marital bed. My worst fears were confirmed and I didn’t know what to do.

Most men would have thought, ‘dump the slut’ and ‘fuck my job’ and gone around there to break them up. But I couldn’t do that. Not after what I’d just heard; that she loved me; that she was never going to leave me. Somehow, that changed things.

Moments later, I watched my boss take off his clothes and then unclasp the black bra of my pretty wife. He took it off slowly, oh so slowly, it was almost a turn-on to watch her large breasts fall from the cups, only to be grabbed by Nick’s black hands, his mouth closing around one of her nipples and sucking sensually.

Pamela’s head fell back and she moaned in pleasure. For a moment, her gaze drifted upwards and my heart skipped a beat as her eyes slid to the camera’s location and then past it. I exhaled slowly in relief at not being caught but then my next breath caught in my throat as she pushed him away and moved down the bed to suck him.

The video feed seemed to go in slow motion as I watched her mouth move closer and closer to his rigid erection. It looked much harder than mine. The veins on the sides of his shaft stood out prominently. His balls were smooth and small, which made his cock look even bigger. Pamela’s soft pink lips closed around the tip, which was pinker than the rest of his dark brown skin and he was circumcised, I noted.

I suddenly realised that I was erect. What the fuck? I was angry. I had been for the past twenty minutes, watching the cheating progress before my eyes. I was hurt. I was betrayed. But also, for whatever reason, I was aroused.

It’s like watching porn, I told myself. It is porn. A live sex show. That was why I was turned on. Any man would get horny watching two people get it on in real-time like this. It just happened that one person was my wife and the other, someone that wasn’t me.

The next emotion to hit me was jealousy. Pamela was devouring his cock deeply and enthusiastically. Much more so than she ever sucked mine. When I did get a rare blow job, she would just hold it in her mouth while I jerked off and if I took more than a few minutes, she’d start to complain that her jaw was aching and plead with me to hurry up and cum.

There was none of that with Nick. Her lips moved up and down his shaft deliberately, and at one point, she came up for air, flicking her tongue deftly around the end of him. Even from where I was, watching through a lens half a mile away, I could see his toes curl in pleasure.

“Stop,” I heard him say through the camera’s microphone. “Don’t make me cum. I don’t have time today to get hard again and fuck you and I really need that tight pussy of yours.”

“And I really need fucking too,” Pamela said, finally releasing his cock from her grasp. He was throbbing, I could see the tension in it from here. “I need filling up. I can barely feel it with him. When we first got together, I thought it was fine but now I know what a real cock is like…”

She went quiet and I wondered if she felt guilty. Her eyes were downcast for a moment and I was sure she was feeling bad but as quickly as her mood changed, it shifted again.

“You better get those panties off then,” my boss said and again I felt a sharp stab of envy as he slipped them off without any hesitation. These days, our sex life happened almost entirely in the dark, beneath the bed sheets but here my wife was, bare naked atop the bed with full daylight streaming in through the bedroom windows.

I saw Nick’s hand brush against the inside of her thigh, caressing the creamy white, soft skin there, before moving upwards to stroke over her freshly shaved pubic mound. As their mouths met, their tongues sliding together in as sexually charged kiss as I’d ever seen, my boss slid two fingers into my wife.

Again, I closed the laptop. This was too much. My wife was cheating on me… was about to cheat on me again, right in front of my eyes… my lovely, innocent, sweet Pamela. This had obviously been going on for a while. Would it run its course? Maybe soon, they’d get each other out of their system. But had she meant what she’d said about my cock; about barely being able to feel it? That had stung and if it was true, would she ever really be happy with me?

It was pure curiosity that made me open the laptop again. I wanted to see how different it was for her with a bigger penis. I needed to see if she really reacted differently to Nick than how she did when I penetrated her. Would she moan louder? Would her orgasm be stronger?

I knew it would hurt. I knew it would tear me apart to watch her fuck someone else. I knew I should be stopping it but I didn’t. The screen lit up and my timing was perfect. Nick was between her thighs. The end of his cock was just inches from her wet-looking slit. Her hands reached down and took hold of it to guide it inside her.

This was it. They were about to fuck. Would my heart be able to stand it?

Part 2 is now live here. Check it out and let me know what you think!

If you want to be notified by email when any of my stories go live, follow me and subscribe for email notifications. Click the underlined links.

Supporting me by becoming a Medium member helps me and dozens of other erotica writers, all for the cost of a cup of coffee. Click here to sign up!