Did My Wife Really Enjoy That Stranger’s Handjob?

Her hand moves with a practiced ease, sliding up and down his shaft. The stranger’s face is a blur, but his body language speaks volumes. He’s into it, and so is she. I can almost hear her soft moans, the ones she reserves for moments like these. The room is dim, shadows dancing on the walls, but the action is clear. Her legs are raised, knees bent, offering him full access. She’s a vision of lust, my wife, Mehri, giving a handjob to a stranger. And I’m here, watching, feeling a mix of jealousy and arousal. It’s a strange cocktail, one I’ve grown accustomed to.

Midnight Encounter

The clock ticks past midnight, and the room is filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of skin on skin. Her eyes are closed, lost in the moment. The stranger’s hand is firm, guiding her movements. He knows what he wants, and he’s not shy about taking it. Her body responds, arching slightly, inviting more. The bed creaks under their weight, a symphony of desire playing out in the darkness. I can see the sweat glistening on her skin, the flush of her cheeks. She’s enjoying this, really enjoying it. And that’s what gets to me. The raw, unfiltered pleasure she finds in a stranger’s touch.

Her Secret Pleasures

As the encounter reaches its climax, I can’t help but wonder what goes through her mind. Is she thinking of me? Of him? Or is she lost in a world of pure sensation? Her body tenses, and I know she’s close. The stranger’s grip tightens, his movements becoming more urgent. And then, it happens. A shudder runs through her body, and she lets out a soft cry. It’s a sound of pure release, of pleasure so intense it borders on pain. I watch, captivated, as she rides out the waves of her orgasm. And in that moment, I know. She did enjoy it. Every dirty, delicious second of it.