Emily’s breasts heaved with every breath, as she leaned back on my sofa and slid her hand down her tight stomach and into her yoga pants. Unaware that anyone was watching, or even knew she was there, she turned the volume on the television up with the remote that was resting beside her before dropping it to use that hand to pinch at her nipple through her loose fitting t-shirt.
From the vantage point of my hidden security camera, I could not see what she was watching on my television, but the sounds that came drifting through my airpods soon made it abundantly clear. The moans and grunts and “Oh fuck, right there”‘s and “Fuck don’t stop”‘s that carried themselves to my ears clearly belonged to my wife and I. Evidently Emily had found our collection of homemade sex tapes. It had been so long since we had watched them or made one that I couldn’t even remember where we had stored them. Bad move on my part, because now my kids caretaker was spending her lunch alone in my house, rubbing herself like crazy to them. On second thought, perhaps forgetting where they were stored was a good move on my part.