I remember the first time I saw her like that, standing by the window, her body bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. She was a vision, a goddess, and she was mine. But that night, she wasn’t just mine. She was his too. I watched, hidden in the shadows, as she slowly peeled off her clothes, her eyes locked on the man who would soon claim her. I felt a mix of emotions—pride, jealousy, and an undeniable arousal. She was my wife, but in that moment, she was his hotwife, and I was just the cuckold, the one who got to watch and wait. I loved her, and I loved the way she loved him. It was a strange, twisted kind of love, but it was ours, and it was real.