15. Wife's POV [Part 1]

NOTE: This fictional story features only adult characters (18+) and portrays consensual interactions throughout.



I woke up slowly, my body sinking into the sheets with a strange sense of peace. For the first time in a while, I felt… relieved. I glanced to my side.

He was still sleeping, face turned slightly toward me, his lips parted just a bit as he breathed softly. My husband looked so calm. So trusting. My heart squeezed with a pang of guilt.

He had no idea.

No idea that just hours ago, his wife lay beside him with her fingers buried between her thighs, soaking the sheets in silence, muffling her cries of pleasure with trembling lips. And all for what? Not for him.

But for the men around me—the ones who’ve been slowly, shamelessly sinking into my mind. Their words, their stares, the sounds I heard, the images I imagined... they all haunted me. I came like a filthy woman, twitching and dripping beside the man who’d never hurt me, who never even questioned me.

What am I becoming?

I sat up quietly and let the morning sunlight touch my skin. My thighs still tingled. My pussy was tender, slightly sore—no doubt from how desperately I had fingered myself last night. I closed my eyes for a second, remembering it. The way I bit my lip, trembling with every stroke. My husband’s soft breathing right beside me, completely unaware that his wife was getting off to thoughts of other men.

My heart pounded again. Disgusting. Wrong. But god, the relief I felt afterward...

I got up from the bed, wrapped myself in a towel, and stepped into the bathroom. The moment the warm water splashed against my skin, I exhaled deeply. I ran my fingers through my wet hair, trying to clear my head. I poured some soap into my hand and lathered it across my breasts, my belly, down to my thighs. I moved slower than usual, my fingers lingering where they shouldn’t.

And that’s when I noticed it.

A flicker. A shadow. A shift in movement.

My body froze.

The hole.

The same damn hole in the bathroom wall. The one my husband had pointed out weeks ago. “It’s sealed from the other side,” he’d said. “Don’t worry.”

But that flicker wasn’t nothing.

My heart thudded.

The other side of that wall... it was the young man’s bathroom. That bold, cocky guy with the devil in his grin. The one who dropped that condom right in front of me, like a message. Like a dare. And now... what if he’s been watching me? What if it was never sealed at all?

My legs wobbled slightly.

All this time… has he seen me? Has he watched me every time I bathed? My naked body… my tits… my ass… My breathing turned shallow. My nipples hardened against the warm air. And down there—my pussy pulsed sharply. Heat flushed through me like wildfire.

God.

I’m a married woman.

And this bastard… he might’ve been staring at my naked body for days, for weeks. Stroking himself off to my soapy skin, to my nipples, to the shape of my cunt as I bent to wash myself.

I should’ve screamed. I should’ve covered myself. I should’ve done something.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I stared at that hole, frozen, skin prickling with something terrifying and exciting. A sick part of me wondered… is he watching right now? Am I turning him on?

No. What the hell am I thinking? This isn’t me.

But what if it is?

What if I like this tension? What if I like knowing someone is desperate to see me, touch me—even if it’s wrong? Even if it’s dangerous?

I couldn’t help myself—I shifted slightly, as if accidentally turning to give him a better angle. My soap-slicked breasts moved softly as I reached for the shampoo. My thighs pressed together because… my pussy wouldn’t stop throbbing.

Am I seriously doing this?

A low moan slipped out before I could catch it. I gasped and slapped a hand over my mouth. My other hand trembled against my thigh.

I peeked again toward the hole. There it was—another movement. He was still there. Still watching.

Oh my god… he’s watching.

My legs shook. Not in fear. But in something worse. Something darker.

The thought that maybe… I liked being watched.

Maybe I wanted him to see me.

I imagined his eyes wide, his cock stiff in his hand, stroking harder with every curve of my body. I imagined him cumming to me. My body. My married body. My nipples ached just from the image alone.

And for a second, I didn’t care.

I just wanted to be seen. To be desired that badly.

I’m going insane.

But then… I saw it again. That flash of movement made me snap back. My heart hammered. This wasn’t fantasy anymore. This was real.

And that terrified me.

Enough is enough.

I can’t do this. I’m not some filthy woman who gets off to strangers watching her behind her husband’s back. I’m not.

I reached for a nearby board and stepped closer to the wall. I pressed the wood firmly against the hole, sealing it as best as I could. My hands shook, but I held it there.

“No more,” I whispered to myself. “No more of this.”

I finished bathing in silence, barely touching myself. Guilt and shame sat heavy in my chest. But underneath all that… was still that unbearable heat between my thighs. I hated that it didn’t go away.

Because deep down, something inside me had changed.

And I didn’t know how much longer I could pretend otherwise.