The Unlabelled Tape

**Author's Note:**

The Unlabelled Tape is a voyeuristic descent into jealousy, lust, and the brutal truths we find when we see someone we love as they used to be. Told from the male perspective, this short is full of conflicted desire - shame, rage, obsession - and the aching need to know. Because once you've seen it... you can't unsee it.

If you're uncomfortable with themes of past partner sex, jealousy, or unintentional arousal through voyeurism, walk on by. This one isn't for you. If you're not, then welcome in.

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The Unlabelled Tape

It started because I was bored.

Not nosy - not really. I wasn't snooping through drawers or rifling through her underwear or anything like that. It was just one of those quiet weekday mornings. Ella was at work, and I had the place to myself. Her flat was small, tidy, full of soft textures and muted colours. Her scent still hung in the air from when she left. Her scent, her space.

I was meant to be working. But I wasn't.

At some point I opened the cabinet beneath the TV, looking for a charging cable. That's when I saw the box. A slim, charcoal-grey plastic storage case, tucked right at the back behind some old cookbooks and an old board game. I don't know what made me pull it out - instinct, maybe. The same kind of instinct that slows you down when you pass an accident on the motorway. You know it's not for you, but you can't help looking anyway.

It wasn't locked. It just had one of those simple plastic flip lids.

Inside were DVDs. A whole stack of them, some in cases and others in paper sleeves. All had handwritten labels on them. Some titles were clear enough:

Bend Me Over.

Slick Red.

Anna's Toybox.

Girls Like Us.

Hard Limits.

Blacks on Blondes.

And then - at the very bottom - one with no label at all.

No sleeve and no markings. Just a silver disc, slightly scratched, with a faint fingerprint across the back and the tiniest black dot in the centre from a felt tip pen that had clearly run dry.

That's the one I picked.

I don't know why. Maybe it was the mystery. Or the way it almost hid among the others. Something about it felt... different. Personal somehow. Not meant for anyone else's eyes.

I slid it into the DVD tray - thankfully my old laptop still had one - heart knocking a little faster than I cared to admit.

The screen blinked blue, then turned black.

A shaky handheld image flickered into life. The lighting was warm in a bedroom I didn't recognise. It wasn't Ella's current one. There was more beige and more clutter. The angle was tilted slightly, like whoever was filming had propped the camera on a low shelf. There were soft giggles. The sound of two glasses clinking.

Then she stepped into frame.

Ella. My girlfriend who I'd been seeing for the last six months.

She looked a little younger, but not by much. My guess was it could have been more than 12 to 18 months ago. She had longer hair, darker lipstick, and was wearing a black lace body and holdup stockings. She looked stunning. Relaxed and cheeky. There was a spark in her eye I didn't really recognise. The kind that came from being completely at ease.

She turned and looked into the camera.

"You better not be filming already," she said, laughing.

A male voice - deep, smooth, American-sounding - replied: "You said I could if I didn't talk."

"Yeah, well, rules were made to be broken."

I froze. I should've stopped there and then. My thumb hovered over the space bar on my keyboard. But I didn't move.

He stepped into frame a moment later. Tall and solid. The kind of gym body you can't fake with good lighting. Muscular arms and a confident grin, wearing boxers and nothing else.

My stomach twisted. I knew who he was.

The ex. The one before me.

The one she'd told me about - briefly - over drinks one night. Said he was too arrogant, too obsessed with himself. That he made her feel small, that he wasn't good for her. That she hadn't looked back.

Watching her smile at him like that, I wasn't so sure.

He kissed her neck. She giggled again, reaching down to tug at the waistband of his boxers.

"Still showing off, huh?" she said.

He just smirked.

They undressed each other slowly. Teasing and playful, like two people who'd done it a hundred times and still wanted more. When her tits came out, he moaned softly, burying his face in them like he was starving. She pulled his hair, laughed, pushed him back onto the bed.

Then she slipped his boxers down.

That's when I saw it.

Jesus.

It wasn't just big. It was... absurd. Thick, long, hanging heavy even half-hard. The kind of cock you only see in porn - the kind that makes you feel immediately inferior, even alone on a sofa, in your own fucking clothes.

I blinked. My throat was dry. Something gnawed in my gut.

No wonder she called him arrogant.

I should have turned it off right then. It was another of those moments when I knew I should have turned it off. Put the DVD back. Tried to forget all about it.

But I didn't.

I couldn't.

***

He sat on the edge of the bed in the video, legs spread wide, cock thick and hard, pointing up at her like god-knows what.

She dropped to her knees.

I actually flinched.

It was her little laugh that did it. That flirty, almost shy giggle - one I'd heard before. Usually when I kissed down her belly, or when she was about to tell me what she wanted. But this time it wasn't for me. It was for him. For that cock.

She looked up at him and bit her lip. Then wrapped one hand around the base - and that was all it took to show just how much of a monster it was. Her fingers didn't come close to closing around it. The head pulsed, thick veins running up the shaft like a fucking roadmap.

"Still too much?" he asked, smug.

She rolled her eyes, then kissed the tip. "We'll see, won't we?"

My jaw clenched. She'd never spoken like that with me. Never playful like that. Never cocky. With me she was sweet, moany, affectionate - but this? This was different. This was a woman on fire. Confident and dirty. She wanted to impress him.

She opened her mouth and tried to take him in.

And failed.

The head slipped past her lips, stretching her jaw wide, and she gagged before she even reached halfway. He grabbed her hair and held her there. She moaned around it, spit already sliding from her lips. She looked up at him again, eyes glassy, and he pushed in deeper.

"Breathe through your nose, baby," he said, stroking her cheek.

She nodded, and he fucked forward - gently at first, then harder. Each thrust made her choke a little louder. Her makeup started to smudge, mascara running under her eyes. Her body shook with the effort. And still, she kept trying.

I could see a tear streak down her cheek, the glisten of drool on her chin. Her throat bulged as she took him.

Fuck. When she gave me head she took me with relative ease. It certainly wasn't a struggle like this.

My cock twitched in my jeans. I was breathing faster. Disgust, jealousy and arousal - I couldn't tell them apart anymore. My hand drifted lower. Not even consciously, just reacting.

He pulled out, strings of spit connecting them. She coughed and laughed, eyes wild now.

"You fuckin' love that," he said, cock bobbing, wet and furious.

She didn't answer with words. She went straight back in and took him again.

He groaned, deep and low.

"Good girl."

My hand was inside my boxers now, fingers wrapped tightly around myself. I hated him. Hated her, even, for how hungry she looked. I hated how hard I was. How small I felt in comparison. And I hated how much I wanted to see what came next.

He grabbed her head with both hands and fucked her mouth. Properly now. Hips snapping forward, balls slapping her chin, her body rocking with every thrust. It was brutal. It was messy. And it was animalistic.

She looked beautiful. She looked wrecked.

And I'd never seen her like that. Not with me. Not even close.

***

He dragged her up by the hair.

Not cruel - not quite - but rough enough to make her gasp. Her cheeks were flushed and her chin was glistening. Her chest rose and fell like she'd just sprinted up a flight of stairs.

"Get on the bed," he said.

She obeyed without hesitation. Climbed up on all fours, looked back at him over her shoulder, and arched her back. I recognised the movement - she still did that sometimes with me. But with him... there was more to it. She didn't just pose. She presented herself like it was an offering.

The camera angle shifted - he must've picked it up and moved it. Now it caught her in full profile: spine curved like a bow, thighs parted, lace body pushed to the waist. Her arse was round and perfect like I knew it. Wetness shone between her legs.

"Jesus," he muttered on the tape.

He moved in behind her and slapped her arse. Hard.

She yelped - then laughed. This sweet and demure girl I'd been dating was showing a side I'd never seen. Never even dreamed might exist.

"More," she said.

He didn't need telling twice. He brought his palm down again and again, alternating cheeks, until her skin was pink and dimpled. She moaned with each strike, pushing back into him.

And then he lined up.

I caught myself holding my breath.

That massive cock - red, throbbing, still slick with spit - pressed against her soaked pussy. He eased the head in, slow at first. She gasped. Her hands gripped the sheets and her back arched more. He pushed deeper.

Her voice broke. "Fuck... it's too big...."

She reached back, hand on his abs, trying to stop him going deeper.

"Shhh. You've taken it before," he said, gripping her hips.

She shook her head. "Not like that. You're... ahhh... fuck... slow down...."

But he didn't.

He slammed forward.

The sound of their bodies meeting was sharp and rhythmic. Her cries filled the room, rising in pitch, somewhere between pain and pleasure. And the more she moaned, the deeper he went.

I was transfixed. One hand braced on the sofa cushion, the other now fully wrapped around my cock, stroking in time with every brutal thrust.

She was delirious.

Begging for more.

"Harder... fuck me harder... yes... yes... right there...."

My stomach twisted. I could literally hear how wet she was. Could see her juices coating his cock as he slid in and out, shiny and thick and fucking impossible.

Her whole body jolted with each thrust. Her face pressed into the pillow. She screamed his name like a call to the gods.

Not mine.

His.

"Josh... oh my fucking god, Josh... don't stop... don't you fucking stop...."

I came.

It hit me like a punch. Hot, sharp, and humiliating. Spurted all over my stomach and shirt as I gasped through gritted teeth. I didn't even mean to. My body just betrayed me. I closed my eyes, riding it out, furious and breathless and completely fucking lost.

When I looked back at the screen, he was pulling out. Her legs were shaking. Her pussy was red and swollen, the lips gaping wide. His cum was oozing out of her in a thick white stream. He slapped her arse again and she thanked him for it.

Then the screen went black and there was nothing else. Just the quiet hum of the laptop and the sound of my own breathing - rough, uneven, broken by something I didn't have a name for.

I sat there in silence, heart hammering, cum cooling on my stomach, cock still hard.

I should've felt disgusted.

Maybe I did.

But mostly?

I wanted to watch it again.

***

I sat there for a long time.

I didn't move and I didn't speak. I just let the silence spread through the room.

The disc still whirred inside the drive. The screen flickered, searching for something that wasn't there anymore.

I wiped myself with the corner of a cushion I probably shouldn't have used. My hand was still shaking a little. Not from the orgasm, but from something deeper. Something I couldn't explain.

It wasn't just the size of him. It wasn't just how rough he was. Or how much she loved it.

It was the way she looked in that video. Uninhibited and unashamed. Wild. Like she'd given herself over completely. Let go of everything except the pleasure.

I'd never seen her like that.

Not once.

I got up and I took the disc. Slipped it into my backpack, wedged between my laptop and my charger cable.

Later, I'd upload it to my phone. Private folder. Locked and hidden.

I told myself it was just curiosity.

Just for one more watch. To see if I'd imagined the way she said his name. The way her body arched. The way she begged.

Just one more.

But I already knew that was a lie.