My Hot Wife's Double Life - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
You are reading My Hot Wife's Double Life, Chapter 7: Chapter 7. Read more chapters of My Hot Wife's Double Life.
The video looked like it was shot in some seedy love motel, with flickering pink lights casting everything in a hazy glow. The poor lighting made the footage grainy as hell.
Since it was clearly a hidden camera job, the clip barely lasted thirty seconds. But that was enough time to make my blood run cold. The bombshell in the video looked disturbingly like Sophia.
I kept hitting pause until the frame froze perfectly on the woman's toned legs. There it was - a delicate rose tattoo peeking out near her milky-white inner thigh. My stomach dropped. That was Sophia's tattoo alright.
I'd gotten an eyeful of it last month during poker night when she'd worn those microscopic shorts. She'd sat legs spread across from me all evening, practically giving me a free show of her lace panties - and that damn rose.
"No fucking way..." I muttered. Was our company's top sales rep really starring in amateur porn?
A cold dread spread through my gut. That guy in the group had mentioned Sophia had a "close friend." If this was Sophia, then Emily could be...
My hands shook as I fired off a DM: "Hey man, you got more of that video? Or anything on those sisters? Name your price."
His reply came fast: "The hell you want? You know them? Deleted everything. And you think I need your cash?"
Shit. Of course - everyone in this group was loaded. These guys weren't selling content; they were collecting human trophies.
I backpedaled hard: "Just wanted to appreciate the art, bro."
"Forget it. Videos are weak anyway - go meet them in person."
Before I could respond, he blocked me. The bastard.
I was still fuming when Emily finally walked in. "Honey, I'm disgusting - hitting the shower!" She beelined for the bathroom before I could even hug her.
Something wasn't right. I riffled through her gym bag - just sweaty yoga pants and a sports bra. Normal enough.
When she emerged wrapped in a towel, I went straight for it: "Since when do you workout after work?"
Emily froze for half a heartbeat before flashing that practiced smile. "Sophia dragged me to her gym. What's with the interrogation?"
"Nothing," I lied, but her micro-hesitation stuck in my craw like a fishbone.
Later, freshly showered, I found Emily in bed wearing that black lace set that drove me wild. All my suspicions melted into raw need.
"Not tonight, babe," she sighed, pushing me away. "Two showings back-to-back, then that workout... I'm dead."
I rolled beside her, my hand slipping under the covers out of habit. Then I stiffened.
Emily was completely bare down there - smooth as a damn baby's bottom.
"When did this happen?" My voice came out sharper than I meant.
She blushed. "Tonight at Sophia's. She says all Western women do it. More hygienic. You... don't like it?"
"Oh I like it," I growled. Suddenly I didn't care about answers anymore. Ignoring her half-hearted protests, I took what was mine with possessive fury.
Since it was clearly a hidden camera job, the clip barely lasted thirty seconds. But that was enough time to make my blood run cold. The bombshell in the video looked disturbingly like Sophia.
I kept hitting pause until the frame froze perfectly on the woman's toned legs. There it was - a delicate rose tattoo peeking out near her milky-white inner thigh. My stomach dropped. That was Sophia's tattoo alright.
I'd gotten an eyeful of it last month during poker night when she'd worn those microscopic shorts. She'd sat legs spread across from me all evening, practically giving me a free show of her lace panties - and that damn rose.
"No fucking way..." I muttered. Was our company's top sales rep really starring in amateur porn?
A cold dread spread through my gut. That guy in the group had mentioned Sophia had a "close friend." If this was Sophia, then Emily could be...
My hands shook as I fired off a DM: "Hey man, you got more of that video? Or anything on those sisters? Name your price."
His reply came fast: "The hell you want? You know them? Deleted everything. And you think I need your cash?"
Shit. Of course - everyone in this group was loaded. These guys weren't selling content; they were collecting human trophies.
I backpedaled hard: "Just wanted to appreciate the art, bro."
"Forget it. Videos are weak anyway - go meet them in person."
Before I could respond, he blocked me. The bastard.
I was still fuming when Emily finally walked in. "Honey, I'm disgusting - hitting the shower!" She beelined for the bathroom before I could even hug her.
Something wasn't right. I riffled through her gym bag - just sweaty yoga pants and a sports bra. Normal enough.
When she emerged wrapped in a towel, I went straight for it: "Since when do you workout after work?"
Emily froze for half a heartbeat before flashing that practiced smile. "Sophia dragged me to her gym. What's with the interrogation?"
"Nothing," I lied, but her micro-hesitation stuck in my craw like a fishbone.
Later, freshly showered, I found Emily in bed wearing that black lace set that drove me wild. All my suspicions melted into raw need.
"Not tonight, babe," she sighed, pushing me away. "Two showings back-to-back, then that workout... I'm dead."
I rolled beside her, my hand slipping under the covers out of habit. Then I stiffened.
Emily was completely bare down there - smooth as a damn baby's bottom.
"When did this happen?" My voice came out sharper than I meant.
She blushed. "Tonight at Sophia's. She says all Western women do it. More hygienic. You... don't like it?"
"Oh I like it," I growled. Suddenly I didn't care about answers anymore. Ignoring her half-hearted protests, I took what was mine with possessive fury.
End of My Hot Wife's Double Life Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to My Hot Wife's Double Life book page.