Nathan was sitting in his office chair. It was Friday and dark, as the hours had slowly crawled towards advanced nighttime. The only lighting was given by stray light from the street lamps and the occasional flickering of the computer's screen saver. Deeply pensive, Nathan sat thinking back to the past months.
Being alone in his office, while others were enjoying the comfort and intimacy of warm bedsheets at the side of their loved ones, was nothing knew to him. Quite often would he spend the scarce Friday nights off paternal or matrimonial duties in the quiet solitude of his office. This particular Friday was no different, since both his daughters were spending the night at their grandparents', and his wife Jessica was out on a ladies night with her best friend Carol.
He cared little about what his wife was really doing on her nights off family, for he himself was content with merely feeling the loneliness and the dead silence solely his office and sanctuary would provide at such advanced hours. Sensing the space to breathe he was so rarely given, he refueled his mind, replenished his spirit, and most importantly, took the time to think that he was otherwise denied .
On his more recent nighttime excursions, his mind had come to wander about the changes concerning his sexual life, mainly in wedlock. He could not deny feeling the frustration which originated from his wife's repeated refusal to engage in intercourse, although he knew far too well about the hormonal impact of childbirth, as well as the resulting possible shifts in behavior and perception.
He never suspected her of betrayal, however; too well did he know his wife and too well was he forced to admit she had genuinely lost any interest in sex all together. He safely dismissed the thought that she may have grown resistant to her spouse's charms. Yet despite knowing his wife's lack in willingness was not caused by his inaptitude to deliver pleasure; nonetheless it repeatedly brought him to question his virility and his ability to satisfy her. Many were the times his querying thoughts would prevent him from the restorative sleep a loving father, understanding husband and strenuous employee was so deeply in need of, while he was silently acquiescing to his fate, keeping his exasperation to himself.
He found himself at the very point his jealous friends had jokingly warned him about. They had told him the clichéd story about wedlock that – alas! – held at least some fraction of truth in the case of his very own life: when marrying a man, a woman hopes she will succeed in making her husband change, but he never will. A man, on the other hand, when marrying a woman, hopes she will stay the way she is, but she never will.
Nathan sighed heavily. Looking back, he should have listened, he thought to himself with a slight, melancholic, yet ironic smile on his lips. He leaned back in his office chair and folded his hands on the back of his head to calmly stare at the white ceiling.
His thoughts regressed to that moment earlier this day when Jessica allowed herself to touch his manhood in a frivolous manner. His hopes to ever get physical with her again – hopes he had to that day thought lost – were further fed by her proposition, her demand even, to resume the petting they had started on their next Friday without their children. This was, in fact, a prospect he had not had in months – or even years? He failed to recall, for it had been too long ago for his memory to nail it down to a specific day in the past.
Still deeply immersed in his inner turmoil, Nathan stood up and stepped to the panoramic window to have a look upon the illuminated streets. It was this exact moment in which a car, he had already seen earlier that night, halted in front of the entrance of the hotel that was on the opposite side of the street. He was surprised to find that out of the car, not his wife's best friend stepped out, but his own wife, in company of no lesser than his best friend Michael.
Having caught sight of Jessica heading to a hotel he knew to be a particular place to spend the night with specific company, Nathan ran back to his desk, helter-skelter, and pulled out the top drawer with one fierce yank. He took his binoculars and the half-empty pack of cigarettes he had bought years back, stashed there for emotionally tormenting situations.
In contrast to the cigarettes, the binoculars were of use on his secret nighttime strolls rather frequently. Ever since the day he had witnessed the city mayor generously paying a young girl, of which Nathan could not tell if she really was of age, for her sexual services. Ever since he had observed this most thrilling event, from the safe distance of his secret sanctuary, he felt fit for his binoculars to be stored in this drawer.
The occasions on which he would use them to peek into the hotel's rooms were indeed manifold; he had observed many things---a local soccer star celebrating his victories by throwing BDSM orgies that were not far from overstepping the limits of what was regarded as legal---the catholic priest relieving his restrained need with other men, preferably with the conservative party's showpiece, who was running for parliament---the elderly high school teacher, notorious for her strict education, asking three or four of her students to abuse all of her orifices at the same time---the local news anchor getting his butthole ravaged with a strap-on by the mayor's wife---ultimately Carol seeking her own sexual pleasure outside marriage. These were just a small selection of what Nathan had witnessed.
Nathan had soon found out that his voyeuristic observations, besides being wrong and kinky, gave him a feeling of empowerment and responsibility, for the fate of the above mentioned personalities, among others, lay in his very hands. Yet Nathan would not risk revealing his secret nocturnal visits at his office over crucial and incriminating proofs. He too would see himself endangered by a lawsuit comprising voyeurism and illegal divulging of non-consensually taken photographs; not to speak of the ravages in social relations that sexual accusations tended to drag along, whether they were true or not. To him the most important, however, was to keep his identity secret, well-guarded and his feeling of power over other people's reputation preserved.
On this particular occasion, an intense struggle surged from his emotions; a struggle contesting both his marriage as well as the value of his so well cherished dirty secret.
He felt his sanctuary truly endangered by waves of somber sensations that were more and more suffocatingly clenching his chest together, with every breath he drew. He felt the air he dragged into his lungs thickening, finding it more and more difficult to breathe past the lump that clutched his throat with an iron grip. Yet a spark of desperate hope and naïveté allowed him to remain calm and keep control over his impending outburst. He had so far no unambiguous proof of the infidelity of his wife, although he judged it of vanishingly ridiculous likeliness that the couple he was watching had come to the hotel to play cards, rather than to quench their hormonal troubles. His hopes, however gullible they were, allowed him to regain his composure and to numb his heart against any coming shock that might otherwise have been critical.
It took Nathan no longer than a few minutes to find the room his wife and her companion had chosen for their presumably romantic encounter. With an unlit cigarette pinched between his lips, in the corner of his mouth, he peeked into the hotel room while nervously gnawing on the cigarette filter. Although the curtains were drawn in said abode, their white fabric was thin enough for Nathan to be able to sneak peeks of little more than just mere silhouettes of the actors in the room. They were translucent enough for him to be explicitly sure it was his wife he was spying on.
He observed her dress into her most seductive lingerie after her shower, while Michael was taking his. After months, maybe years of deprivation, the peeping Tom gulped; he saw his wife lolling in the hotel room's bed in his favorite set of sexy undergarments. She was obviously getting prepared to cheat on her husband.
Unconsciously, he took one hand off the binoculars to guide it to his crotch. There he found a growing erection of which he was not certain whether it stemmed from the adrenaline rush that came shooting to his head or from an even darker, yet subconscious, wish of his to see his wife getting bedded by another man. With his feelings of insecurity growing, Nathan put down the binoculars to light his cigarette, hands shaking.
As he peeped through his field glasses again, Nathan witnessed his wife rolling down a condom on Michael's cock using her lips. Once the condom was all unrolled, she was not moving anymore. Nathan thought he would see confusion written all over Jessica's face, but failed to determine it definitely, for all he could make out were the outlines of her face, since the curtains, although very thin, did not grant enough insight into the events in the room.
With a slight sensation of relief, the cuckolded husband distorted his lips to a faint, but contented grin, as he realized his cheating wife had stopped her oral assault on Michael's cock because the latter was about to blow his load prematurely. Seeing this made Nathan feel unapproachable and his manliness in question restored.
He was already about to declare victory over his rival, as he saw Michael lowering his face between Jessica's legs – the fail-safe way to provide her multiple shuddering orgasms in a row.
The voyeur gulped as this realization hit his mind, and turned his curious mixture of feelings inside out anew. He only remembered he had a lit cigarette between his lips, the moment he drew a breath so deep the smoke filled his lungs completely and triggered a sudden burst of violent cough, as a natural response to the irritating aerosol.
Nathan's palms were sweaty, and he found it difficult to hold the binoculars with only one hand, while the other massaged his throbbing erection through the crotch of his jeans. He was not able to remember when his hand had started fondling his cock through the rugged fabric, and found this even more disturbing than the set of ever altering emotions he felt watching his wife overstepping the boundaries of her matrimonial vows. His dark desires seemed to be consuming him more even than knowing about his wife's infidelities.
Another easement crept upon his heavy heart, as he found out through his observations that his best friend was not a talented oral provider of orgasms; he failed to give Jessica her much-needed release altogether, without showing the slightest sign of awareness, actually. No reason for him to feel endangered thus far, Nathan though, a knowing grin across his face; the still greatly dreaded main act was yet to be served. This idea kept churning his entrails beyond jealousy and indeed he feared.
The long moment which it took Jessica to persuade her so far useless lover to finally penetrate her, affected Nathan like a crescendo building up the tension and suspense even further. He felt his blood shoot to his head, fueling his rage against his wife and her steady bidding to cheat on her husband despite her untalented lover's obviously limited capabilities. A lot like a drum roll, his growing fury and nervousness sent a deafening tinnitus through his ears. His cock painfully poked against the sturdy fabric of his jeans, so he opened the fly, and let his stiff rod free to be jacked off.
Both a great relief and disappointment ended Nathan's emotional roller coaster as he witnessed his best friend's ultimate failure at delivering sexual pleasure. The latter collapsed and fell asleep in his egoistic satisfaction, not even wasting a thought on quenching his companion's lust.
Nathan was relieved because he knew his own virility not to be even marginally endangered and his wife to be crestfallen by this catastrophically bad attempt at adultery. Yet he was disappointed because he too found himself in the unfavorable situation of being sexually aroused without the prospect of a proper picture to masturbate to.
Still peeking into the hotel room through his binoculars, Nathan recognized the expression of genuine regret in the face of his visibly disappointed wife, as the first tears rolled down her cheeks. Yet her chagrin was weak compared to the sadness that had befallen her spouse's heart upon witnessing her betrayal with his best friend. In grief and unsatisfied arousal, Nathan gritted his teeth, insecure about whether he should confront his wife, and therefore risk revealing his so treasured secret, or if he should rather trust her obvious and – to Nathan's view – well-earned regret. Far too great was his love for her to be overshadowed by her infidelity, and far too deeply had he enjoyed secretly watching her escapade from his office window.
