先の快楽と自らの性欲に屈し、理性が崩壊するその瞬間

Title: “The Surrender – A Depraved Descent into Carnal Pleasure”

The tape flickered to life, casting its lewd glow on the darkened study walls. I watched intently, my heart pounding in anticipation. The scene began innocently enough – a buxom redhead, clearly our wife, lounging on the leather sofa in a frilly negligee. She sipped a cocktail, giggling to herself as if enjoying a secret joke.

But then the camera zoomed in, and things took a decidedly naughtier turn. Our luscious wife looked directly into the lens and purred, “I’ve been such a bad girl, letting my desires get the better of me. But maybe it’s time to just give in…”

With that, she reached for her phone and dialed a number, her plump digits dancing over the screen. The camera panned down to her cleavage, heaving with each breath. Her breathing grew more ragged as the call connected, and a deep male voice crackled through the speaker.

“Mmm, hi there, stud,” our wife purred seductively. “I can’t stop thinking about you… about your thick, hard cock stretching me open. I NEED you inside me.”

The voice on the other end chuckled. “Oh, I’ve got plenty for you, slut. Meet me at the usual place so I can give you the rough fucking you deserve.”

Our wife bit her plump lower lip and giggled. “I’ll be there in 10. Don’t keep a lady waiting.” With an abrupt click, the call ended, leaving only the ragged sound of our wife’s breaths filling the room.

She stood up, her heft a plush contrast to the spindly sofa. Glancing over at the camera, she gave it a provocative wink. “Guess I’ll be back later… but I guarantee I won’t be looking the same when I do.”

The scene cut to later that night, as our wife stumbled into the bedroom, a delighted, zoned-out expression on her face. She had a disheveled appearence, her hair strewn about and smeared lipstick on her face. With a victorious grin, she reached behind herself and unzipped the filmy gown, letting it puddle on the floor.

For a moment, the camera simply lingered on her body – the heavy mounds of her breasts, the juicy curve of her ass, all framed by indecent lace panties and thigh-high stockings. She reached for the camera, her nails a fierce crimson against the wires, and turned it to face her.

Looking straight into the lens, our wife moaned, “Oh fuck, he was SUCH a stud. Such. A. STUD. He bent me over and FUCKED. ME. HARD.” She turned and presented her backside to the camera, and I could see livid red handprints blooming on the supple flesh of her rear. She caressed them delicately, giggling.

“I made him cum every way possible,” she continued, her eyes wild. “Face, mouth, tits, ass – he painted me like a damn Jackson Pollock. Almost had to use a mop to clean up!”

She flipped back around and shimmied out of the lacy undergarments, leaving her gloriously naked except for the silky stockings. Recrossing her legs, she casually ran her fingers along her slit, gathering the copious juices. “And I came over and over again. Squirting EVERYWHERE.” She brought the digits to her mouth, savoring the taste with an approving moan. “Mmm, I can still taste him inside me.”

I sat riveted as the video continued. Our always-proper wife shifted position to lie back on the bed, propped up on pillows, and began to languidly caress her incredible body. Every inch was on display, benefiting from the soft light. “My pussy is sore, you know,” she purred, sliding three fingers inside herself as she spoke. “He fucked it SO deep and hard. But it’s okay… because this is the life I’ve chosen for myself. This is who I want to be.”

As she spoke, she began scissoring and curling her fingers into herself, jilling her clit with her other hand. Her eyes flickered closed, lost in decedent reverie, as the obscene wet sounds of her moans and masturbation filled the room.

“Mmm, I’m his slut… his fucktoy. I crave cock more than anything. More than respect, more than stability, more than being ‘a good wife’ to you,” she gasped, her back arched in pleasure. “This is what I need. This is who I need to be. All that matters is cum. I want to gloat in it, to overflow with it, until I’m nothing but a sloppy, used-up whore!”

With a final, feral shriek of delight, our ex-wife’s body went rigid, trembling through the climax. Jizz and girl cum gushed from her ravaged hole, coating her probing fingers and dribbling down her crack. She collapsed back into the pillows, a dreamy expression on her face.

“Ahh, thank you for this. For being willing to do these naughty, disgusting things for my pleasure without complaints,” she cooed into the camera. “I knew you wouldn’t mind… because you know how much I crave carnal depravity. I CAN’T stop being the shameless, cock-hungry whore I am! This is all I want. Being used and abused is everything I’ve ever needed.”

With a languid stretch and a contented smile, she blew a mock-kiss to the camera before saying in a final singsong, “I hope you enjoyed the show! I’m going to text some other men now so y’all can watch me get used again tonight. G’night, darling!”

As the tape draw to a close and the screen faded to static, I leaned back in my chair, my mind reeling. Our once proper and prim wife was now little more than a wanton cum-dumpster, too lost in hedonistic pleasure to see herself as anything else. And worse… I HAD recorded her for her gratification, turning a blind eye to encourage her degradation. She was now a depraved slut in all but marriage – just waiting for a real man to claim her as HIS whore. My ‘wife’ was gone. A changed woman.