The sensation of the cool sheets against my skin is almost forgotten as I watch her, my wife, seated on the bed. Her legs are crossed, one foot resting on the floor, the other on the bed. She’s wearing that knee-length dress, the one that hugs her curves just right, exposing her legs. Her expression is neutral, almost stern, but I know the fire beneath. The room is well-lit, casting a soft glow on her face. I can almost hear her thoughts, the way she’s considering the words on the screen, ‘YES I’M SERIOUS, MY HUSBAND WANTS TO WATCH YOU FUCK ME.’ It’s a statement, a challenge, a promise. And I’m here, watching, waiting, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and submission.
What Does She Want Me to See?
The question lingers in the air, unspoken but palpable. What does she want me to see? Her desire, her power, her control? Or is it my own submission, my willingness to watch, to obey? The text on the screen is a command, a demand, and I’m here to fulfill it. The room is quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of her dress as she shifts, the occasional creak of the bed. Her eyes meet mine, and in that moment, I know. She wants me to see everything, to bear witness to her pleasure, her dominance. And I’m ready, ready to watch, ready to serve, ready to be her cuckold.

