Under Surveillance

Charlotte Stokely peeled off her robe in the bedroom light, every curve made for sin. Her bath waited, but the sun kept pouring through the blinds, so she leaned back on the sofa instead, legs spread, one hand already teasing her slick clit. Her husband sat across town, convinced she was screwing around, and now he was hiring help. Lexi Belle. Blonde, sharp, expensive. He paid her to get pictures and answers. She took the money, nodded once, and came straight over with her lens and a plan. Lexi climbed the roof first, shooting frames of Charlotte through the window while the naked housewife rubbed slower, then faster. When the view got good she slipped inside, bare feet quiet on tile, tripod already set outside the bedroom door. Charlotte was still talking, phone to her ear, completely nude, body arching every time her fingertip flicked her swollen clit. Lexi ducked behind the couch and filmed everything: the woman’s juices on her fingers, the open laptop showing two girls grinding on-screen, the dirty promises hissed into the receiver. Time to move. Lexi stepped out, voice low and sharp. “Got it all, Mrs. Stokely. Your husband wanted proof.” Charlotte didn’t blink. She just grinned, eyes dark, and grabbed the investigator by the wrist. “Hate to break it to you, babe, but I never fucked a man. That was a girl I’ve never even met, and I’m so fucking wet right now because of it.” She dragged Lexi down the hall, slammed the bedroom door, and shoved her onto the mattress. Clothes came off fast—Lexi’s shirt, bra, jeans—until both women were skin to skin. Charlotte kissed hard, tongue licking down Lexi’s stomach, then lower, until the PI’s thighs trembled. She ordered Lexi’s mouth onto her pussy. Lexi obeyed, sucking and tonguing, feeling Charlotte’s cream coat her chin while the housewife gripped the sheets and shook through a loud, shaking orgasm. “That’s one,” Charlotte panted, flipping positions. She slid underneath Lexi’s spread legs and buried her face in dripping cunt, licking every fold until Lexi came too, thighs squeezing Charlotte’s head, juices running down the housewife’s tongue. They lay there catching breath, mocking the man whose money paid for this fuck. “Think he wants to beg for an invite next time?” Charlotte laughed. Lexi grinned against her thigh. “Only if he watches from the chair and keeps his mouth shut.”