One Friday afternoon, I arrived home from work earlier than usual and noticed my wife wasn’t at the front of the house. Since she worked remotely, I decided to check the back where our bedroom is located.
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As I opened the door, I found her reclining on the bed, completely nude. Her thick thighs were parted, and she pressed a vibe wand against her clitoris. Holding her phone above her, she was FaceTiming someone, the camera focused on her face, breasts, and pussy, proudly displaying herself.
She caught sight of me and suddenly sat up, startled.
“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, “I didn’t expect you home so early!” Her expression was a mixture of shock and embarrassment.
The wand remained nestled between her legs, and from her phone came soft, confused sounds.
“I’m just FaceTiming Dustin,” she explained calmly — her ex-boyfriend, with whom I had agreed she could reconnect intimately. “I need to finish; I’ll be done soon.”
Recovering her composure, she lay back down, cradling the phone. She began recounting what had transpired to him, while I moved to put away my keys. The familiar buzzing of the vibrator pressed again against her wet folds filled the room.
Not wanting to disturb her moment, I settled on the living room couch, silently pulling out my skinny cock. I listened as she indulged in dirty talk with Dustin, flaunting her body down the phone. Her heated breaths and moans grew louder until she announced she was about to climax. Hearing her cries, I released into my hand alongside her, my own pleasure fueled by the intimate scene playing out.
Later, she emerged from the bedroom, and we continued with our evening, preparing dinner together. Yet even as the day went on, my mind replayed the vivid memory of catching her spread open and vulnerable, sharing that sensual connection over FaceTime.