After she returned from the old man's house, she quickly went in to bathe. I sat there, mind still fogged from everything. Even though I had seen nothing through the window earlier, the tension refused to fade. My thoughts were noisy, restless, swirling with doubts and emotions I couldn't even name properly. I shifted my focus to the TV, trying to distract myself. I didn't know what movie was playing, just some random channel, but it didn't matter. I needed anything to help me escape my own head.
It seemed like a simple romantic drama at first. A happy married couple. They looked like the kind who smiled over coffee, joked during breakfast, cuddled on the couch during rainy nights. A normal family. I let myself sink into it for a while, pretending to enjoy the mundane comfort it showed. But then, a new character appeared on screen. A third man, smiling a bit too much, speaking a bit too gently to the wife.
Disgusting.
I muttered the word under my breath. What kind of man does that? How can such people even exist—people who look at a married woman and still try to worm their way into her life? Why not go after someone single? Why this need to ruin a family, to take someone who's already chosen a partner?
But I kept watching. I couldn't look away.
The film progressed. The third man kept showing up. Little conversations at first, casual, friendly. A playful chat while the husband was busy or distracted. The husband, clueless as ever, treated it all casually. He smiled, even joked about it, not sensing the change that was slowly creeping into his wife's behavior. And the wife… her tone began to shift. Her eyes lingered longer. She smiled more freely with the other man. Something about her had started to change.
I swallowed hard.
They started talking more—secretly. The messages between them became more frequent, longer, and more flirtatious. She began hiding her phone when the husband walked into the room. She laughed at her screen and put it away quickly. She started returning home a little late, with poor excuses. And the husband still didn't know. Still trusted. Still loved.
I could feel a strange tension rising in me, but it wasn't because of the affair on screen. It was the husband. That blind, faithful, trusting husband who couldn't see what was happening right in front of him. He reminded me of someone. I didn't want to admit who. But the connection was there, eating at the back of my mind.
The more I watched, the worse it got. The wife and the other man began meeting secretly. Touching and whispering. And the husband went on, loving her, smiling at her, while she had already started giving herself to someone else behind his back. The betrayal wasn't loud. It was subtle, patient, slow. A gentle corruption, quiet enough that the husband didn't even realize it was happening until it was too late.
Something twisted inside me.
It wasn't just discomfort. It wasn't just anger.
I felt something darker. Something confusing.
As I watched that man slowly lose his wife, as she started responding to the other man's touch, started giving in more easily, I noticed a slow and shameful throb under my shorts.
I didn't even realize when it had started. But now I was fully hard. My cock was standing, stiff and pulsing, pressing against the fabric of my shorts in full view.
Why?
For what reason?
Was it because the film was erotic?
No. It wasn't that. It wasn't even that explicit.
Then why?
Was it the idea?
The idea that this man's wife, someone he loved deeply, trusted entirely—was being taken from him, slowly, sneakily, right under his nose? Was it the image of her bouncing her ass on another man's cock while the husband still kissed her forehead and made her breakfast? Was it that loss of control? That helplessness?
I placed my hand over my hard cock, pressing lightly, as if to suppress it. My fingers curled. I whispered to myself, angry and confused.
Why the hell are you standing?
I don't even like this shitty movie. I didn't want to watch this. I wasn't enjoying this.
And yet, my body… disagreed.
I stayed frozen like that, confused and disgusted with myself, staring at the screen. The husband was still in the dark, sitting there with a smile, still thinking he had everything. And I kept staring, breath a little uneven, unable to stop watching.
I didn't even realize she had come out of the shower until I heard the soft clink of utensils in the kitchen.
My heart jumped. Panic rushed in.
I grabbed the remote and quickly turned off the TV. I didn't want her to see what I was watching. I didn't want her to even guess what I might have been feeling. The bulge in my shorts was obvious, impossible to hide. I was wearing something loose, and the outline was painfully clear.
I got up awkwardly, walking in a slightly hunched posture, trying to shift the fabric and keep my front hidden. I avoided her eyes completely and headed straight to the bathroom. I didn't say a word.
I didn't want her to think anything. I didn't want her to know that I was getting a hard-on from… whatever the hell that was. Even after everything. Even while she was out there, acting normal. Even with a wife like her—so beautiful, so sensual. I didn't want her to see me like that, not in that moment.
Not when I didn't even understand what the hell was happening inside me.
After locking myself in the bathroom for a few minutes, I managed to calm down. The throb had finally faded, but the weight in my chest remained. I splashed my face with cold water, stared at my reflection, and forced myself to breathe normally. I needed to act natural, pretend everything was fine. I couldn't let her sense how messed up my mind was.
Eventually, I stepped out and walked back into the living room. She was still in the kitchen, her back turned to me, moving like everything was normal. But I wasn't. I could feel a tension rising inside me, a quiet storm I kept trying to suppress. The silence between us was starting to grow heavier, and I couldn't bear it anymore.
Trying to do something—anything—to bridge the invisible gap forming between us, I spoke.
"Let's go out," I said, trying to keep my voice light, casual.
She turned slightly, glanced at me, and smiled. "Sure," she replied.
We both got ready. There was a strange, artificial cheer in the air, as if we were both forcing smiles for the sake of it. But I needed this outing. I needed to feel like things were okay again.
The movie I had watched earlier still lingered in my mind. It was a bit of an eye-opener. Not because of how it ended or what the characters did, but because it felt like a subtle warning. A glimpse into what might happen if I kept ignoring the signs around me. It felt like a mirror, reflecting a version of my life I didn't want to see. I found myself glancing at her as she applied light makeup. I loved her—deeply. And the idea of losing her to someone else… it would break me.
We headed out just as the sun was dipping into the horizon. The evening breeze was pleasant, and for a while, things felt somewhat normal again. We ended up visiting a nearby zoo. It wasn't anything grand, but walking together, watching animals, laughing at silly moments—it helped. It made me feel like we were still us. We even had dinner at a quiet restaurant nearby. Nothing fancy, but it felt comforting.
On the way back home, just as we were turning the corner into our street, something unusual caught our eye.
There was a large vehicle parked near the end of the block, loaded with furniture and boxes. Someone was clearly moving in. At night? It wasn't too late, but still, most people didn't choose this time to shift an entire house.
As we got closer, we saw a man carrying things from the truck. He was tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered, lifting heavy boxes like they were nothing. His arms were thick, veins visible even in the dim light, and his whole build looked like someone who spent hours every day at the gym. He looked like the kind of guy who didn't need to say anything to demand attention.
Then, a woman appeared beside him. She was stunning. A seductive face with high cheekbones and full lips. Her body was curvy in all the right places, with full breasts and wide hips that swayed as she walked. She was hot—undeniably so. Of course, not more than my wife. Still, it was hard to ignore her presence.
She noticed us and walked over with a warm smile.
"Hi," she greeted us cheerfully. "We're new here. Just moved in. It's nice to meet neighbors so soon."
We smiled and returned the greeting. She was polite and respectful in her tone, nothing overbearing, just pleasant.
A moment later, the man walked over and stood beside her. Up close, he looked even more intimidating. His shoulders were like slabs of stone, and his expression, while friendly, had the calm confidence of someone who knew he didn't need to prove himself. This was her husband.
We shook hands and exchanged names. They both seemed decent—relaxed, polite, even friendly. Out of concern, and maybe a little caution, I decided to say something.
"It's a nice locality," I told them, "but you might notice some people around here act a little… shameless. Weird, sometimes."
The man chuckled lightly. "Who would dare mess with us?" he said, smirking as he placed an arm around his wife's waist. "Not like anyone's going to look twice at her if I'm around."
He wasn't wrong. Just standing beside him made it feel like no one would dare cross them. He gave off that dangerous aura—controlled but obvious. Like the kind of guy who wouldn't even need to raise his voice to shut down a threat.
We told them where we lived and welcomed them to the area. It was getting late, so we didn't linger. We all agreed to continue the conversation another day when they were more settled in.
As we walked away, I glanced back once, catching a glimpse of them standing by their new home.
A married couple, just like us.
Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe it would be nice having neighbors who could understand our dynamic, share some common ground. At the very least, they didn't seem like the weird, twisted types we'd gotten used to encountering lately.
We continued on toward our house, side by side.
At that moment, I wanted to believe everything would go back to normal.