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He had more stilettos than his wife and his wardrobe was probably just as big as hers but certainly more trampy.
Mini skirts, wigs, rubber and fetish gear, every sort of fetish attire lined the walls of his covert dressing area.
Of course, there were times when he would close the door and take off his clothes and stroke his cock to completion because he was just so desperate to cum.
One of his favorite lunchtime activities was to go to the bathroom on other floors of his office building and leave his mark on the stall walls.
As long as she could buy whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, Tricia really didnt care if he had a Cambodian sex slave chained up down there.
Pete was meticulous in taking off his lingerie and putting it in the secret closet he had built.
One son was on a full scholarship for Baseball so his coach arranged to keep his grades up and the other son had been lucky enough in freshman year to find a girlfriend who didnt mind writing all of his papers. They werent a particularly loving couple, its not like they fought excessively or argued, they got along pretty well in fact, but they werent particularly demonstrative towards one another either.
That left he and his wife Tricia all alone in their 5200 sq. Their friends and family would swear up and down that the couple loved each other, and in fact, they did, it was just a pseudo/sterile love that was based more on function than affection.
Tricia was still hot according to Petes coworkers and friends.
If there was ever a case of someone being a pervert, Pete was a textbook example.
Petes wife was totally fucking clueless to her husbands dark side.