Domestic Spy
The whole day had been a disaster. In fact, the whole afternoon, all James could think about was getting home before Celia so he could have some time to himself. Truth be told, Celia had sent him a photo from her office in the middle of her day and it was the only thing that had seen him through. He had briefly entertained the idea of trying to get Celia home to join him for a release from the stress of the day, but she had mentioned just that morning that she was booked solid until close to 7. James didn’t mind – he hadn’t been able to find time for himself in a few days and he had the opportunity of having dinner ready for her when she got home, a treat he was rarely able to give her.
When he got home, he parked and locked his car, and opened his front door. He didn’t notice the shoes carelessly flung in the corner of the front hallway, and he assumed the lingering smell of jasmine and honey from Celia’s shampoo was left over from the morning, though it usually wasn’t this strong in the afternoon. Her shampoo smell reminded him of the photo she snapped for him, and he could feel his cock growing as he thought of her. He walked to just outside the door of their bedroom and stopped. He listened intently and could hear a faint buzzing sound and then the sound of Celia exhaling. James’ heart dropped for a moment, as he listened for the sound of someone else with her. As he waited, however, it became clear that she was alone.
He considered joining her, but decided against it. She exhaled again and he stroked his cock, imagining what she was doing to herself. He was able to peer into the crack between the door and the wall, which provided a perfect viewpoint for watching her.
Celia was stunning. She was never ashamed anything her body ever had to offer, which made her the sexiest thing many people had seen in quite a long time. James loved watching her enjoy her body the way everyone else did. Her nails, freshly painted with a deep red, shined in the afternoon sun and glinted as she moved her hands over her breasts and stomach. In her other hand, she held her favorite vibrator against her clit. James watched Celia’s hips twitch as her clit reacted to the buzzing and pressure. Every so often, Celia lifted the head of the vibrator away from her, the sensations too much for her to process at once. James usually felt this twitch against his palm or his chin. He had never been able to enjoy it from this vantage point. He spit into his hand and moved along the shaft of his cock, taking a moment to enjoy the smooth slipperiness of his own skin. He watched her there, on their bed, as though he was watching a video of them with him edited out of it. He knew every move, every spot, every sound, and it was comforting knowing that the places she chose were the very same ones he was drawn to. He closed his eyes as his rhythm on his cock steadied.
A sharp inhale from Celia snapped his eyes open. He peered into the room and watched her write on their bed. She cupped and squeezed her breast in her hand, as if she was trying to contain the sounds she was making any way she could. James’ hand tightened around his cock, mimicking the pressure he knew was building inside her. His eyes struggled to stay open as he watched her, and he could feel his own pressure building. He held as long as he could before his hands were sticky and warm and sweat trickled down the side of his face. As he crested, he watched her do the same. Her neck and head relaxed and sank back as she met the other side of her orgasm, and she pushed hair out of her face. James slowed his own stroking on his shaft, and watched as Celia’s breathing became more relaxed. She stretched her arms above her head and arched her back. She rolled over to face the window, her back to the door. She let out one last sigh.
“Welcome home.” She said. He should have known better that this was all a performance.
