Wife's College Sex Tape

It started as an innocent conversation. Katie and I were three drinks in, nestled on the couch on a lazy Saturday night, half-watching an old rom-com and half-caught in a conversation about our college days. We'd both shared a lot before — exes, hook-ups, awkward flings — but this time it drifted into territory we hadn't touched.

We were talking about dumb college party dares when Katie paused and gave me a kind of mischievous, half-nervous look.

"Okay, I've never told you this," she started, swirling the wine in her glass. "But… I once made a sex tape. With my boyfriend. Junior year."

I blinked. I tried to play it cool, but I felt my heart skip a beat.

"A what?"

She laughed, clearly embarrassed but owning it. "A sex tape. Like, an actual one. We set up a camera and everything. I mean, we were drunk, it wasn't some porn-level production. But… yeah."

For a moment I didn't know what to say. Katie — my Katie, the girl I'd lived with, slept with, loved for years — had a sex tape floating around out there. My stomach twisted, but my mind immediately conjured images I wasn't ready for. I wasn't sure if I was jealous, or turned on, or both.

"Wait," I said slowly, "Do you… still have it?"

She gave me a long look. Smirked a little.

"I do."

I swallowed. Hard. My brain was at war with itself.

"Do you… do you ever watch it?"

"God, no!" she said, laughing again. "I mean, maybe once a year after it happened, but not in years. It's on an old external hard drive. Buried somewhere."

I hesitated. "Would you… ever watch it again?"

She studied me. "Would you want to watch it?"

There was a pause. The air got heavier. She tilted her head.

"I'm serious. If you really want to see it, I'm not gonna be weird about it. But don't say yes unless you mean it."

I didn't say anything right away. But then I nodded.

"Yeah. I want to see it."

Another pause. Then she stood up, drained the last sip from her glass, and walked to the closet in the hall. A few minutes later, she came back with a dusty hard drive, plugged it into her laptop, and sat down beside me.

"Alright," she said. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

The laptop screen glowed in the dark living room. My cock throbbed in Katie's hand as the video played, her slow, wet strokes keeping me teetering between grounded and overwhelmed.

On screen, her younger self was pulling her top over her head. That was the first real moment that hit me — like a punch to the chest and the gut all at once. Her breasts bounced slightly as the shirt cleared her arms. She wasn't wearing a bra. Her tits were small, tight, impossibly perky. Her nipples were already hard, and I could see the faint flush spreading down from her neck.

That was my wife. But younger. Freer. Exposed for someone else.

It sent a shockwave through my whole body — not quite jealousy, not quite possession — but something tangled between lust and disbelief. I couldn't believe I was seeing this. That she was letting me see it.

"You okay?" Katie asked softly, reading the tension in my body.

I didn't trust my voice. I just nodded. Her hand tightened slightly around my shaft.

Then he — the guy — reached for her waistband. She didn't hesitate. She lifted her hips, letting him peel her shorts down slowly, revealing a completely bare, freshly-shaved pussy. No modesty. No hesitation. She spread her knees and leaned forward to kiss him again, naked now in every sense.

I groaned, involuntarily. Katie's thumb circled the head of my cock.

"You're so hard," she murmured, her voice full of pride. "You like seeing what I used to look like, huh?"

I nodded again. My throat was dry. "You looked… fucking perfect," I managed.

"Still do," she teased, but her voice was huskier now. She was getting off on this too.

Back on the screen, the guy — I didn't even care what his name was — leaned back against the pillows, his erection now fully in frame. My stomach clenched. For a second, I thought I wouldn't be able to watch. But then I saw her younger self lower between his legs, flipping her hair over one shoulder, and wrap her lips around the head of his cock.

"Fuck…" I hissed.

I wasn't watching him. I was watching her. The way her lips stretched, how her cheeks hollowed, how eager she looked. She sucked him with the kind of enthusiasm I'd seen in flashes over the years — but this was her then. Her body slimmer, her skin tighter, her eyes wide and playful.

Watching it ignited something I didn't expect. She was so filthy and confident — looking up at him while bobbing her head, one hand stroking what her mouth couldn't reach. My Katie, sloppy on someone else's cock.

"God damn…" I said under my breath.

Katie's hand sped up slightly. I looked over — her cheeks were flushed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She was breathing heavier, eyes flicking between me and the screen.

"You love it, don't you?" she whispered. "Watching me suck someone else's cock like that?"

I groaned again. I didn't have to answer.

On screen, she climbed back into his lap, straddling him. Her hips hovered, then she reached back, guiding him beneath her. There was a moment — one breath, one hitch in her posture — and then she sank down onto him.

I tensed. My whole body locked up.

Watching her get entered for the first time, watching his cock disappear inside her… it was like a thunderclap in my brain. I couldn't believe how hot it was. How much it shouldn't be, but was.

Katie's grip on me grew firmer, her rhythm steady and intoxicating.

"You like seeing him stretch me open, huh?" she whispered, her lips brushing my ear now. "My tight little pussy back then, taking all of him?"

My cock jerked in her hand. I was right on the edge.

On screen, she was riding him. Slowly at first — small circles with her hips, her hands braced on his chest, hair swinging around her shoulders. Her tits bounced, and the camera picked it all up perfectly. The sound of her moans, real and raw, filled the room.

I couldn't stop staring.

Each movement she made — every grind, every bounce, every gasped breath — pulled me closer. My brain was on fire. My wife, back when she was just a college girl, was fucking someone else on camera… and I was getting off on it. Harder than I ever had in my life.

Katie leaned into my neck, still stroking. "You're gonna cum watching me fuck another man, aren't you?"

My body clenched.

And I knew she was right.

The rhythm of her hand was perfect now. Firm, steady, almost cruel in how close it was pushing me. On screen, Katie's younger self had fully given in — moaning openly, bouncing faster on his cock, her hands splayed across his chest, her head tilted back, hair a mess. Her body moved like she loved being watched. Like she knew exactly how she looked on camera — flushed, glistening, fucking wild.

"I can't believe this…" I muttered. My voice cracked mid-sentence. My cock twitched again in Katie's grip.

"Oh, I can," she whispered, biting gently at my earlobe. "You've never been this hard in your life."

She was right. My cock felt like steel, throbbing in her hand, slick and begging. My hips were twitching against her touch, every nerve in my body tight as a bowstring.

On the screen, the camera had slipped slightly — the view now a bit more angled, close-up. Her bare ass clapping softly with each bounce, her pussy swallowing him whole again and again. Her moans were louder now, panting, breathy, real.

I was seconds from the edge when Katie suddenly let go.

"Wait," she said, voice low, dangerous.

I almost cried out in frustration.

She stood, still facing the screen, and pulled her shirt off in one smooth motion. No bra. Her tits bounced free and caught the faint light of the TV. Then came her shorts — slid off slowly, letting them fall around her ankles. She stepped out of them, completely naked now, standing between me and the flickering laptop. The shadow of her body overlapped with the grainy image of her younger self riding another man.

"You wanna cum watching that?" she asked, turning to face me fully. "Or do you want this Katie to take care of you?"

"Fuck," I breathed. "You. I want you."

She smirked, straddled me, and without another word, reached down, angled my cock, and sank down onto me in one slow, hot motion. Her pussy was soaked — so wet it felt like velvet. She didn't ease in. She took me.

I groaned, head tipping back, grabbing her hips as she started to roll them slowly, working me deep inside her.

Her hands planted on my chest, her abs flexed, and she began riding — matching the tempo on the screen without even looking. My eyes flicked from the present to the past — her riding me, her riding him — and my brain couldn't tell the difference anymore.

Katie leaned down, her lips hovering right over mine. "You gonna cum inside me while watching me cum for someone else?" she whispered, biting her lip.

That was it.

I grabbed her ass and started thrusting up into her, meeting each of her bounces, her tits brushing my face, her breath hot in my ear. The moans from the laptop blurred into Katie's real gasps now — a perfect overlap of memory and flesh.

"I'm close," I growled.

"I want it," she hissed. "Cum in me. Show me what this Katie does to you."

My vision blurred. My grip on her hips tightened as my whole body arched — and I exploded inside her. Hot, hard, deep. I let out a growl, shuddering, as she rode every pulse out of me, moaning into my mouth, kissing me like she wanted to claim it all.

When I finally collapsed back into the couch, panting, shaking, her body still clinging to mine, she reached behind and shut the laptop.