Chapter 3

After that episode, for no apparent reason, the sexual activity between my wife and I was boosted for a while, then, little by little, returned to normal, that is to say very flat and infrequent.

It was then that the neighbor invited me to come and see him at his place. Semi excited, semi worried, I rang at his door when my wife was away. He opened the door, dressed poorly as usual, dubious boxer shorts and frankly dirty pants. He invited me to come into his living room and said:

- Come see what I have to show you:

He inserted a DVD into the drive and hit play. Videos of my wife getting fucked in all holes, face and chest stained with semen and finally her female ejaculation. These were the films he had made during the adventure with the hunters. While we were watching this tape, he had taken out his cock and was masturbating, and I must admit that I too. My penis, of normal size, looked really ridiculous compared to his. I ejaculated pretty quickly into a handkerchief as he waited until the last moment to flood his T-shirt with an impressive amount of cum.

- No need to say, it’s been at least fifty times that I have watched this film and it always makes me hard.

- It’s true that it’s exciting. But what do you want to do with it?

- Don’t worry, you’ve done your part of the bargain, and there is no question of imposing anything on you. If you wish, this film will only remain in my possession. Which would be a shame...

- What do you have in mind?

- Well we realized that even unconscious, your slutty wife took pleasure in being fucked by big cocks, and that you didn’t mind seeing her being put in the oven.

-...

- So I thought we could see if she could consent...

- I’ll stop you right away, she will never consent!

- Well not really consenting, rather obliged, at least at the beginning, but active!

- How do you plan to get there?

- By blackmailing her of course!

And he explained his plan to me: he intended to send her photos from the films we had just seen and use them to blackmail her. As I replied that she would not work because she did not remember anything, he told me not to worry, that a woman is ready to do anything to maintain her reputation. He then asked me what day it was her turn to pick up our mail and we agreed on the next day, provided that I could see everything that was going on.

He told me that he was going to send a very explicit photo and that he was going to ask her, without saying who he was, to join him in the locker room of the football team, of which he has the keys. It will be enough for me to stand in the showers to be able to see without being seen. The meeting would be fixed at 7 pm.

She should be dressed in her dance attire.

I really doubted that my wife would fall for this trap, but was surprised when she called me during the day on my cell phone. She told me she had a remedial dance class and would definitely come home later. Her voice was a little altered, but almost normal. I told her I had work and would be home late too.

At 6.30 pm., I found the neighbor in front of the changing room. He opened it, and we both took our place in the showers.

At exactly 7 pm. we heard the door knocking.

- Enter Madame X, said the neighbor still hidden, and close the lock behind you.

- Who are you? And what does this photo mean? said my wife.

- I think you know me, even if you don’t look at me, declared the neighbor, coming out of the showers. I congratulate you for following my clothing recommendations

- You! But how dare you...

- Shut up bitch, I’m in charge here!

- How dare you! This photo is not of me!

- In any case the chick who gets screwed looks like you, and that’s certainly what your family, your friends, your office colleagues and of course all the neighbors will think when they receive a copy in the mail. And I still have many other even worse photos!

- How much do you want, said my wife in a tone that is half hysterical, half resigned.

- I don’t want money, I just want you to obey me

- Never!

- So this interview is over, the photos will be sent by post tomorrow