At this mont, Michael's hands were finally free, and they found a new purpose—supporting his head with a pillow as he lay back.
He gazed at Betty's graceful back, the curves of her buttocks, and the sight of his own penis moving rhythmically in and out of her.
He didn't have to move; he could enjoy the view and the act simultaneously, all the effort now on Betty's shoulders.
Betty, lost in the rhythm, moved tirelessly atop him.
Michael was thrilled, his long-held desire for Betty to take the lead was finally realized.
This shift wasn't sudden.
During their lovemaking, Michael had supported Betty's slim waist, guiding her movents.
Over ti, he noticed Betty began to move on her own, subtly matching his rhythm.
Perhaps it was subconscious at first, but Michael seized the opportunity.
After a mont of hesitation, he decided to test his theory by letting go.
His gamble paid off—Betty began to actively engage with him.
My fists clenched tightly.
I could no longer forgive Michael, regardless of his relation to my ex-girlfriend or any past promises.
I am a man of my word, but everyone has their limits, and Michael had crossed mine.
He inflicted the greatest insult a man could bear, forcing to wear the eternal mark of a cuckold.
I wouldn't harm him, but from now on, he and I would have nothing to do with each other.
How could I, when he is the child of a woman I once loved deeply?
Betty, my beloved wife, the mories of our ti together were vivid in my mind.
She was my greatest love, not comparable to Laura.
Her love moved , supported through my darkest and most helpless tis.
Yet, just a few months after I left ho, and less than four months after Michael entered our ho, she had betrayed physically with him.
If it had been against her will, I might have forgiven her, considering our deep bond, and tried to heal the pain with love.
But seeing Betty actively moving on top of Michael shattered my heart completely, like a glass heart broken beyond repair.
Even if pieced back together, the cracks would always show.
Perhaps the Betty on the screen was rely lost montarily, and she might co to her senses after their lovemaking.
But this act of theirs was like opening Pandora's box—once opened, it could never be closed again.
All this ti, the thought of Betty's descent haunted .
Initially, I was prepared for the possibility of her downfall, confident in our bond.
But reality struck a harsh blow.
In the short two months I was away, working tirelessly for our family, they had completely betrayed .
Maybe Betty had her reasons, like Michael's education or his threats to leave ho, but none justified her betrayal of our marriage.
She could have been honest with , even if it ant admitting a relationship with Michael was necessary for his adolescent education.
If truly left with no choice, I believe I would have made the right decision.
Even if it ant wearing the cuckold's horns knowingly, at least it would have been clear, and I wouldn't have lost all hope in Betty and our marriage.
"Ah..."
As I pondered my shattered heart, a voice from the computer's headset plunged into utter despair.
It was Betty's moan, a sound of pure ecstasy.
During my contemplation, Betty and Michael hadn't ceased their lovemaking.
Now, Betty had stopped moving atop Michael, sitting firmly on him, their damp pubic hair mingling indistinguishably.
Michael's entire penis was enveloped by Betty's vagina, his testicles just below her urethral opening, visibly trembling and contracting intensely.
Michael, previously lying with his arms under his head, now arched his upper body off the ground, his face contorted as if in his final struggle...
He had reached climax, ejaculating inside Betty under her relentless 'efforts', continuously releasing his seed deep into her womb.
The first wave of sperm might have t its match, and now he was replenishing her with fresh troops, undoubtedly increasing the chances of fertilization.
Originally, the odds might have been 50%, but with this climax, it seed a sure 100%...
As Michael climaxed, Betty, too, reached the peak of her desire, experiencing the most intense orgasm since her deflowering.
Her moans, now unrestrained as if to tear through her throat, resonated painfully in my ears.
I had never heard Betty moan with such abandon, nor had I realized how provocative her sounds could be...
At the mont of Michael's climax, Betty had positioned herself to take him entirely, ensuring his sen reached the deepest part of her, all by her own volition.
The scene seed to freeze, their fertilization process ongoing...
And there I was, wanting to cry but finding no tears, not because I wasn't sad, but because I was too heartbroken, perhaps even heartless now.
I turned off the surveillance feed; I couldn't bear to watch any longer.
What I had seen was enough; the future developnts no longer mattered.
Betty and Michael's betrayal was now a confird fact.
I didn't shut down the computer; it remained on the standby screen.
Trembling, I pulled out a cigarette and lit it with effort, taking a deep drag.
The nicotine rush provided a brief relief to my body.
After smoking, I thought for a mont, then pulled out a USB drive from my bag.
I copied all the video files of Betty and Michael from the computer to the USB drive—these were the evidence.
I didn't plan to use these files as leverage in a divorce for financial gain.
On the contrary, if we divorced, I was prepared to leave all my assets to Betty.
I chose to walk away with nothing, able to earn again, leaving the wealth for Betty to ensure she could provide for Michael if she chose to be with him after our separation.
Perhaps it was foolish or even deaning to be so magnanimous, but I truly loved Betty.
Consider it the final act of a husband's duty...
The USB copy completed, but as I unplugged the drive, a part of was reluctant, clinging to a last shred of hope and opportunity.
I glanced at my phone, which had remained silent since I turned it on—no calls from Betty...
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