I stared at the over-sized computer monitor as if transfixed.
On the screen in front of me, a strikingly pretty blonde dressed only in sheer black hold-up stockings and high heels, was bent over a large, expensive hardwood desk in a large, expensive wood panelled office. Her feet were parted wide, her hips were flexed and her naked bottom with its dark, damp cleft was presented brazenly.
Behind her, between her long, spread legs stood an older, unattractive, overweight but expensively tanned man, fully naked from the waist down. His left hand rested proprietarily on the woman's bare left buttock, while in his right hand, he held the shaft of a long and impressively thick erection, the tip of which he was rubbing up and down her slit as if searching for her entrance.
I watched in horror and amazement as he found his target, grinned lasciviously then, with a crude, almost animal look on his ugly face, thrust his hips forward hard.
The woman's body tensed, and a high-pitched yelp escaped her lips as the man's erect penis penetrated her body. Her head was fling back and her mouth opened wide in pained surprise, as the swollen head of his mighty cock was forced into her slender body from behind.
Her knees buckled for a moment, and her hands tightened on the desk's rounded edges as she sought to steady herself against the huge, invading phallus. Encouraged, the man grabbed the blonde by her hips with both hands, and in a single powerful thrust, drove his long, thick cock deep into her vagina.
The woman's body arched as she was forcefully impaled, her belly was bent downwards, her hips thrust high, her back arched as if trying to raise her vulva to meet the rapidly invading shaft.
The camera angle switched, and the woman's pretty face filled the screen. Her eyes were closed, her features contorted in a mixture of pleasure and pain as the ugly, fat man began to thrust in and out of her body, fucking her slowly but in strong, confident strokes that built rapidly in speed and power.
His rhythm was relentless as he slammed into her, his pudgy hips slapping noisily against her firm, pale buttocks. Low female wailing from the computer's sophisticated sound system filled the room where I sat motionless, spellbound; completely unable to tear my eyes from the compelling images in front of me.
The blonde was being fucked hard and expertly, her head rising and falling with every second thrust, her long blonde hair falling over her pretty face, all but obscuring her strong, distinctive features. Behind her, the fat man was taking his time, clearly in charge, his own passion and arousal kept tightly under control as he thrust repeatedly and rhythmically into the woman's vagina.
This would be no quick wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am screw. The tanned man knew how to fuck a girl and was doing it well -- very well if her rapidly-increasing arousal was anything to judge by.
The camera angle changed again, this time showing the mating couple side-on.
The man's rounded paunch was hanging grotesquely over the woman's taut buttocks. His belly wobbled with each purposeful thrust of his hips but despite this, his monstrous erect cock was clearly visible beneath his shirt tails each time he pulled it from the girl's moist, open cavern.
Her arousal was mounting even more rapidly now, her blonde head lowered until her long hair hung close to her small breasts. Despite the difference in their ages and fitness, she was clearly tiring.
Undeterred, the speed of the man's thrusts increased further, his fingers digging deep into the woman's slim hips as the wet, slapping sounds grew louder. Her face contorted, her eyes blinded by lust were open but seeing nothing.
His pace increased once more, this time accompanied by a series of hard slaps from the palm of his chubby hand on her bare, bony buttocks.
Smack! Smack Smack!
The sound of flesh striking bare flesh filled the room.
Then with a loud moan, the pretty woman raised her head until her closed eyes pointed to the ceiling. A moment later a long, low wail filled my ears as a powerful orgasm ripped through her slender, athletic body.
"Oh my God! Oh Jesus!"
The woman's voice was hard and coarse, barely feminine, twisted by the first wave of a mighty climax. She began to pant noisily, her arms trembling as the man's flabby hips slammed into her buttocks relentlessly, his pace quickening to match her arousal but still entirely under control.
"Oooh! Oh Yes! Oh, fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck meeee!"
A second, much stronger wave of orgasm washed over the blonde's body; still the ugly man maintained his unyielding, unforgiving pace.
The woman was completely out of control now. I watched in awe as her mouth opened wide, her knees gave way and her whole body began to twist and writhe as she came and came, harder than I had ever seen a woman cum before.
The woman was all but incoherent now, her body no longer hers, entirely at her lover's mercy. I watched her arms begin to buckle and her long blonde hair fall over her face as a third and still more powerful wave of orgasm robbed her of speech entirely.
Sensing her complete surrender, the man hissed something in a language I couldn't understand. The camera angle changed once again to bring me face to face with the monstrously climaxing, totally unresisting woman's expression. Her stunning, deep blue eyes were open wide in astonishment, her mouth twisted, first wide open then tightly closed in an ugly grimace as she came wildly and helplessly silently in front of me.
My cock was rock hard in my pants as I stared at the image on the screen; at the beautiful young woman being brutally and expertly fucked by this fat, ugly man; the woman who even now was being totally overwhelmed by her orgasms; the woman who had reluctantly taken on the role of whore that she now played so very, very well.
The woman that I called my wife!
I was sitting in my Boss's office in a well-known firm of Accountants and Management Consultants. Let's call it 'Sandersons'; I'll keep the real name to myself.
To all appearances I was like many young men in the City of London; well off by most peoples' standards, fairly good looking though I say it myself, and successful, with all the trappings that success involved. I had a large, detached house in a desirable village, two Mercedes cars, the membership of the right golf club, two attractive young kids, a dog and to crown it all, a stunning, trophy wife.
You see young men like me in bars and restaurants around London every weekend, talking to each other while their wives discuss fashion, shopping and their children's schools.
The big difference in my case was that Amanda was a trophy wife only in her stunning physical appearance. In every other respect, she was a very long way from being the kind of bimbo so many of my colleagues seemed to desire.
Indeed, the very word bimbo was an epithet she hated more than anything else in the world. Amanda viewed the name Mandy as the ultimate bimbo appellation and throughout her entire academically brilliant life, had firmly requested anyone unwise enough to use it in front of her, to refrain instantly.
So what possible chain of events could have led to me sitting there that fateful July morning watching a recording of my lovely, highly intelligent, formerly faithful wife being fucked half senseless by an ugly, fat man who was almost a stranger to us both?
The story is a long one, and to begin properly we need to go back to our College days to understand both my wife's extraordinarily strong character and my own lamentably weak one.
Intellectually very much my superior, Amanda and I had met in our first year at University and had taken an instant dislike to each other. I was studying English Literature; one of very few boys in that department and consequently the focus of a great deal of female attention. This I adored, but it made me rather self-satisfied and spoilt. To make things worse, I was blessed with my father's good looks and attractive personality too. Unfortunately, modesty came a lot later, which was partly the reason for my downfall.
Bright eyed, intelligent and with a jaunty, almost rakish demeanour, I had attracted a lot of the girls on my course and in the Hall of Residence where I lived in during my first year. I had bedded a good number of them too, though in one of the few good decisions in my life, I had made it a rule never to 'kiss and tell'.
Amanda was studying Psychology at the time. We met through mutual friends and I was immediately struck by her extraordinarily good looks. Tall, slim and blonde, with small but firm breasts and legs that seemed endless, she was a permanent fixture in the University hockey and netball teams which kept her in great physical shape.
She was exceptionally bright too, and really loved her studies whereas I only tolerated mine. As a result, she was expecting a strong, First-Class degree, way ahead of my hoped-for Upper Second.
But what struck me most when we met, were her extraordinarily deep blue eyes which she would fix on me during the few, but highly animated conversations we had. As well as being devastatingly attractive in themselves, they gave her an aura of mystery, as if her mighty intellect could see right through me, judge my deepest motivations, and find them wanting.
I deeply hoped she couldn't actually read my mind; the thoughts I was having about her were very far from pure and intellectual, but I did my best to appear the perfect student.
Unfortunately, this almost psychic ability also made her immune to my seductive charms, as my complete lack of success in getting anywhere near her panties amply demonstrated.
Because of those extraordinary looks and magnetic personality, Amanda had more than her fair share of admirers, but she came from a rather strict and traditional upbringing, was extremely careful about her reputation, and even more circumspect about who she was seen with and where.
Consequently, she was still a virgin at nineteen.
Of course, for me, this apparent inaccessibility only heightened her already considerable appeal, to the extent that over time, I became completely infatuated with her. Every word she spoke, every look she gave me even when turning me down for a date once again, merely deepen my infatuation.
Gradually I lost interest in the other, more attainable girls around me. Well, perhaps not all, but even as I bedded them, I knew it was Amanda's face and body I really wanted to see on the sheet beneath me.
In the end, it took three months of almost complete celibacy on my part, and all the persuasive charms I could muster before she would even agree to go to the movies with me. It took all my self-control not to push my luck in the darkness, but I did, and was rewarded with a second date during which we actually held hands.
It was two dates later before we actually kissed, and I can say without hesitation it was the sweetest kiss of my entire life.
Progress from there onwards was frustratingly slow but, driven by a series of tiny successes, I persevered. On many occasions I was obliged to deal with my sexual urges myself after we had parted, but to me, falling deeper in love by the day, any progress at all was unbelievably rewarding.
From a light peck on the lips, we began to kiss open mouthed, then finally with tongues.
From holding her hand, I gradually progressed to touching her breasts; at first covered, then eventually to sliding my hand under her shirt and caressing the bare flesh of her small, firm globes.
From simply stroking her thighs, it took months of stealthy, inch by inch progress before my searching fingers finally made contact with her panties, and it was many weeks more before I was allowed contact with her bare slit.
Fortunately, once that barrier had been broken, my progress became faster. Amanda quickly discovered that, far from being unpleasant, she really enjoyed being fingered and could climax easily. I already knew how much I enjoyed doing it, so we were perfectly matched, and it soon became a regular part of our courtship.
Many was the morning I woke with my hands smelling strongly of vaginal juices; a distinctive aroma which, as most boys know, is very hard to wash away.
We were less well matched when it came to repaying the compliment. It was a long time before Amanda took my cock in her hand and brought me to what was a very rapid and messy climax of me own.
It was nearly a full year later at the age of twenty-one, when we were head-over-heels in love and with an engagement ring firmly in place on her third finger, that Amanda finally surrendered her virginity to me.
It was an evening that reduced us both to tears, and which I will remember for the rest of my life. I had waited so long and been so patient that at first, I was afraid that either one or both of us would be disappointed.
I need not have worried.
When the long-awaited moment finally arrived, both physically, emotionally and in every other way, making love to Amanda turned out to be everything I had dreamed it would be, and more. When I heard her gasp beneath me as I entered her, and soon afterwards, felt her fragile hymen tear under pressure from my agonisingly erect cock, all my previous conquests faded into insignificance.
I was lost then, and despite all that has happened since, I still am!
Once the dam had been breached and her virginity was gone, our relationship changed profoundly. For a long time and at Amanda's insistence, we made love almost every day - sometimes several times a day -- pausing only when her periods came.
True to her competitive, high-achieving personality, she was as lightning-quick a student in bed as she was in study; eager to learn and excelling in both technique and enthusiasm. More than once I was left astounded after a lengthy session of energetic love making, her fit, athletic body more than a match for the wettest of any man or boy's dreams.
At the same time, an undercurrent of sexuality crept into her already strong personality, making her, if it were possible, even more attractive to the rest of the world, as well as to me, her pussy-whipped fiance. I positively glowed when we were out together, side by side, holding hands, proud of our relationship and the ring on her finger, believing myself the luckiest man alive.
I felt luckier still when shortly after graduating with her well-deserved First Class and my just-sneaked-over-the-line Upper Second degrees, she became my wife in a traditional church ceremony, and we set out on our life as a couple.
For me, work began immediately. I had secured one of the few, and highly coveted training positions with Sanderson Brothers, a small, but highly prestigious and influential firm of accountants and management consultants.
A few weeks later, Amanda began teacher training in a nearby college. We moved into a small apartment in an unfashionable part of the city, and for the next two years were poor and tired, but happy and very much in love.
With both of us working so hard, our sex life inevitably moderated a little but remained adventurous. We still made love most days of the week and would occasionally spend entire mornings or afternoons at the weekend in bed with the phones switched off.
At work, my training programme gradually took me through most departments within my company. I quickly realised just how much money could be made, even by people with only modest talent, if they were ruthless enough.
Of course, I confidently believed my own talent to be anything but modest, and as I saw what was going on around me, my ruthlessness grew to match it. In a short time, I became determined to carve out quickly a lifestyle that more befitted a man with my exceptional abilities than the meagre living we were enduring at the time.
And if there were casualties on the way, well, that was just the way the world worked; the survival of the fittest.
Meanwhile Amanda was positively thriving in her work. A natural teacher whose penetrating gaze generated as much awe in her students as it had in me, she qualified first in her class and took up a full-time role in a nearby High School.
But it wasn't all great. I quickly realised that, though teaching brought Amanda great joy and satisfaction, it brought little financial reward. It was soon apparent that, although a happier wife certainly meant a happier life, if we were ever to enjoy the good life financially, it would be down to me to provide it.
So, I began to plan.
Never a patient person, my two years' training at Sandersons seemed endless, but eventually it finished, and I was promoted to a junior role in Accounts. The Accounting Department of a consultancy firm wasn't what I had in mind for myself as a glittering and financially rewarding career, but at least it did represent a significant increase in salary.
Add to that Amanda's slowly increasing pay packet, and we were able to move from our tiny flat in the city to a small fixer-upper detached house in one of the less fashionable suburbs.
The financial constraints of our first mortgage meant that most evenings and weekends were spent decorating and renovating - when not in bed or out with friends - but things went well, and after only a year we were able to sell the house at a good price. With the profit from that and a goodly stretch of our next mortgage, we were able to move into a much larger house in a much better area.
Then Amanda fell pregnant.
It wasn't planned but wasn't entirely unwelcome either, and all our parents were thrilled when nine months later we produced their first grandchild. However, it did mean that from now on, Amanda could only work part-time, so our income fell noticeably, making things much more difficult financially.
Fortunately, a short time later I was promoted to Manager of the Accounts Department, a much more senior role with more responsibility and a much better salary that more than made up the difference.
As a result, when Amanda fell pregnant for a second time only months after our youngest was born, it was no great hardship for her to give up paid work altogether. She moved, as middle-class yummy mummies do, towards volunteering with local charities and with seeing her increasing circle of polite, middle-class friends.
After that, a vasectomy ensured that there would be no more little surprises in the baby department!
My new role did however, involve some new duties. As a Manager I was obliged to attend many more social functions and to entertain clients as the business demanded. In this role, it was often essential to have a partner and it soon became clear that my beautiful, highly intelligent wife couldn't have fitted the role more perfectly.
Still strikingly attractive thanks to hours spent running and in the gym, Amanda could easily hold any potential client spellbound in intelligent conversation for as long as the situation demanded.
Soon we were being invited to many more company events, and meeting more senior managers too. I could feel my career developing around me and the good life began to beckon even more strongly.
I suppose my undoing began with my insistence that Amanda should always dress the way in which I believed befitted the wife of a man with my bright, successful future. Although she was unsure at first, it didn't take long to convince her to increase her spend on clothes dramatically and take even more care over her appearance than before.
Amanda had always dressed well, instinctively choosing the right lingerie, the latest styles in dresses, jackets, shoes and skirts, but all purchased carefully and within a strict budget. All I had to do was persuade her that the budget had increased quite a lot, and within a few weeks her wardrobe had been turned over.