The wife, her curves accentuated by the soft, silky negligee she wears, sits before the camera, her face a mask of conflict. "I'm so sorry, honey," she whispers, her voice barely audible, "I never meant for this to happen." She recounts the encounter, her eyes closed, as if reliving each illicit touch, each passionate kiss. Her hands roam her body, her fingers dipping into her wetness, "He touched me like you never have," she moans, "and I let him. I let him fuck me, honey. I let him fuck me so good."