I can’t believe I’m watching this. My wife, standing there in that black lace lingerie, her body a perfect blend of innocence and seduction. She’s looking over her shoulder, lips parted, eyes burning with a hunger I’ve never seen before. And that question, ‘Is it weird that I find it hot when you watch me get ready for him?’ It’s like a knife twisting in my gut. I’m supposed to be the one she’s ready for, but here she is, getting dressed for another man. I should be angry, but all I feel is this sick, twisted excitement. I want to stop her, to claim her as mine, but I can’t. I’m frozen, watching as she ties the garter straps, her ass cheeks peeking through the sheer lace. She’s a vision, a fantasy, and she’s not mine. Not right now. And that’s what makes it so fucking hot. I’m her cuckold, her willing slave, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m hard, aching, and I know I’ll be jerking off to this image later, reliving the moment she became someone else’s. It’s a sick game, but it’s ours, and I’m addicted.