It was Friday night, and I was sitting on the couch mindlessly flipping through Netflix's lineup. My fiancée was getting ready to go out without me. She told me earlier that she had a dinner date with her friend April and they planned on drinking and catching up on life.

Years earlier, she cheated on me with a random dude she met at a house party. Her confession brought out my kink, and we later tried cuckolding occasionally. We both had a lot of fun exploring the lifestyle, but after I proposed, I made it clear it was time to focus on "us" as we entered a new chapter.

As I sat thinking, my fiancée's so-called plans weren't adding up. See, I had met April several times, enough that we had followed each other on social media. April had just given birth to her second child, and it would've been unlike her to quickly ditch her newborn for a girl's night. Secondly, my fiancée was getting ready as if we were about to go out on a date. She kept walking from the bathroom to the hallway mirror. She liked the hallway mirror because it had great lighting and reflected her entire body, but I could see her whole body as well, and she was wearing way too sexy of underwear for no one to witness. I played the fool and let her tell her story, but I knew something was up.

I fell asleep on that couch and woke up abruptly, near midnight. My fiancée was not back, nor had she checked in. I panicked and called her cellphone, yet her story was not adding up once again. My fiancée said she was still at the restaurant with April; however, the background was nearly silent, and April's SC story showed her at home with her husband.

I didn't want to have the hunch that I did. It took years to rebuild the trust in our relationship. Before I abruptly halted the lifestyle, my fiancée had an eye for a supervisor at her job. We visited his house before for an after-work social, and I immediately disliked everything about him. The guy was a brute, constantly aggressive and inappropriate; I'm not sure how he was in charge of anyone. The only good thing about that event is that I now knew where he lived.

I felt half foolish as I approached his street until I saw my fiancée's car parked in his driveway. My heart sank into my stomach. I couldn't believe she was there. Maybe she never changed at all. I don't know what came over me, but I had to be sure, so I parked my car down the street and made my way on foot. I was nervous someone would call the police on me as a prowler, but I had to be sure. The house was dark except for one window with a flickering blue light. As I peered in, I began to shake; my fiancée was there; that brute was there.

He was watching some music video, and she was sucking his dick. They were both completely naked. I was hurting, but I stayed. I watched. He was so rough with her, and she was so loud. I could have stayed in my car with the windows up and likely still heard the moans. Instead, I watched her grasp the sheets as he thrust into her over and over. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, so I drove home. I went to the bathroom, looked at myself in the mirror, and sobbed. I began masturbating to thoughts of what I'd just seen, and I cried some more until I finished. Then I went to sleep.