badinfluencegirl

she allowed herself to be persuaded in spite of herself. she’d always thought it the height of tacky to use these ‘nannycam’ contraptions for spying on one’s marital bed or one’s children but nonetheless there was that faint scent.

“look, the worst that will happen is you won’t find anything and you’ll feel like an idiot right?” said her best friend, for the fifth time.

nonetheless she stood there a while staring at the devices in the ‘spy store’ and felt like an idiot. there was no way he was cheating, she knew it in her bones. she was absolutely certain.

but dammit her bed smelled like sex that wasn’t hers!

with a snarl she yanked the offending object from the shelf and stalked to the cash. she didn’t stop muttering for the entire drive home and her best friend, unusually but wisely, remained silent.

they set it up together, resting in a knickknack on a top shelf and invisible unless you were standing on top of it. she cried a few times, unable to believe it had come to this. her wonderful husband, the man she could *swear* on her soul had never considered straying for the ten years they’d been married.

the man who stared in her eyes with love and devotion as they made love every chance they got. it was impossible. it was.

but her bed smelled like someone else.

they cleaned her bedroom thoroughly and left all the linens fresh before leaving to go out for lunch. she wasn’t going to look at the recordings unless she got that smell again. she was just going to take herself home and pretend none of this had ever happened.

which she did and it even worked to a large extent because they were very busy people with very busy lives and she didn’t get a lot of time to brood. still, it hit her like a sword in the gut on occasion.

she had set a nannycam up in her bedroom.

time passed without any strangeness and eventually even she forgot that it was there until one day she came home and collapsed on her bed with a thud and her nose twitched.

she gasped, punched in the gut, and grabbed the stupid camera out of it’s niche before stomping down the stairs. oh my, she was muttering again. muttering as she found the cable and muttering as she booted her laptop and muttering as she sprawled ungracefully on the couch and spooled the camera back to that morning.

she played through the hours of the morning and laughed watching the housekeeper tidy up at six times normal speed. if only she really worked that fast.

she stopped to watch anna change the bed. she’d been hoping to discover that her sheets were just a little punky but no, here was clear evidence that they’d been changed.

wait now, what was this?

was that the housekeeper taking her shirt off? taking her shirt off slowly and sensually? doing a STRIPTEASE???

she was SO fired!

she stared, mesmerized in spite of herself, as anna’s bountiful breasts came into view. she had never realised what a beautiful body the quiet woman was hiding under those shapeless cleaning clothes.

probably why she wore them actually.

now anna was fondling her nipples, picking up her breasts and reaching down to tongue her own nipples, watching this was getting the watcher almost as hot as the performer.

here she was licking one nipple and playing with the waistband of her old jeans with her other hand. she kept teasing around their edge and then stroking her sex through the thick denim before returning to fiddle the button.

her watcher started to pant now, that this woman was an employee getting sexual in her own bedroom seemed suddenly irrelevant. leaning forward she increased her screen to show her the maximum size and stayed fixed that way, staring at the screen while the scene unfolded.

soon anna had released the top button on her pants and then in one quick tug had undone the rest of the buttons and slid her jeans over her hips. a gasp left the watcher as she noted that her housekeeper didn’t wear underwear. AND that said housekeeper had a surprisingly well groomed bush.

almost unconsciously she fondled her nipples and watched as the housekeeper shed the last of her clothing before collapsing on the bed in a lust filled heap. her fingers found her clitoris as the woman on the screen did the same and without even noticing she mimicked the woman who was performing on her own bed.

together they rubbed their soaking wet centers as they tortured their own nipples. together they moaned and closed their eyes. together their hips thrust and thrust, but it was anna’s screaming climax that brought about her own.

somehow the sounds of the other woman gasping herself to orgasm and screaming in pleasure was enough to send her over the edge.

in spite of her quivering cunt her pleasure dimmed as she noticed the woman onscreen making a strange beckoning gesture. just who was she calling?  her body quivered but her heart quailed as she leaned forward to stare at the screen.

she watched, heart in her mouth, as a man entered the field of view of her camera.  who was it?  she needed him to turn around, this screen just wasn’t showing her who it was.  what a strange position to be in, your fingers in your cunt and your heart in your throat…