Triple Temptation
Prologue
Danny sat motionless on the sofa, staring straight ahead of him and sipping on a glass of wine. His hands trembled slightly with the passing of the moments, shot with nerves at this point as he was, but determined to get to the bottom of just what was going on with his wife. Of course, he already had a reasonable enough picture of precisely what was happening, but there was an understandable need for certainty on his part.
A means of guaranteeing that his own thorough investigation was fool proof, and a pressing desire to have everything in order before jumping down her throat with any sort of unfounded accusation. That, of course, would have been disastrous, and as frustrated as he was at her actions, there was something deep down inside him that almost wanted to doubt that which he knew, without any reasonable objection, to be the truth.
As far as that went, his investigation into the matter left little room for wonder or second-guessing, aside from that which was instinctual and unavoidable by human nature. Rationally speaking, anyway, there was no reason for him to disbelieve that which he had rooted up in his efforts, it was simply a matter of giving her one final, gracious benefit of the doubt to be sure. So great had his love for her once been and how devastating it would be to see it all come crashing down with the revelation he hated to believe.
He had had her followed...
The suspicion had, of course, been there for a considerable period of time before that. His doubts hadn't simply arisen on a whim, and he would never have jeopardized something about which he felt so passionately about for a matter as fundamental as male jealousy. As far as he was concerned, he had amassed enough reasonable cause for suspicion over the past couple of months that it would have been insane not to have gone poking around to investigate.
Of course, he left her alone all week while he was at the office, and it made sense that that would provide her with ample opportunity for carrying out the infidelity in question. He might never have gotten to the bottom of it if it hadn't been for the amassing of evidence over a considerable period of time... What really pissed him off was the fact that, apparently, his wife thought him entirely too stupid to pick up on precisely what was happening between her and another man.
Danny didn't have a clue as to the extent and the scope of the affair, and couldn't say with any reasonable degree of certainty just when it might have begun. For whatever reason, though, he assumed that it had been going on for a while longer than he'd begun suspecting it, and he had either been too stupid to notice it initially, or else, at the beginning, his wife and his cuckolder had gone to greater lengths to cover up their misdeeds with some degree of care.
Whatever the case may have been, the two of them had eventually begun to get sloppy in their hiding of the adultery, and this, above all else, was what eventually began to lead to their unraveling. It was almost embarrassing for Danny how extremely damn obvious it was getting, and sometimes it made him cringe to realize just how very little his wife must have thought of him. For instance, he would find the man's black hairs on their bedspread every now and then, or a pubic hair that was clearly not Danny's own in the shower.
Sometimes, he would root through his closet looking for a shirt to wear to work and stumble upon one of the other man's instead, obviously not Danny's given a considerable size difference, and with a red lipstick stain, presumably from his wife, on the collar. He didn't know how the hell he allowed himself to keep having sex with Annie knowing that she was so shamelessly screwing around on him.
Perhaps it was mostly to keep up some facade of normalcy and to avoid letting her know that he knew. But in any case, it crossed his mind on numerous occasions that he was entering inside her in the tracks of another man's body, and it sometimes made his anatomy burn as he considered the notion of sliding in and out of her through the trails of some foreign sperm.
He sometimes wondered, too, about disease, and although he liked to think that Annie at least either had enough sense to use protection or only to fuck someone who was clean, it still gave him shivers to consider it for any extended period of time, and he refused to go down on her at any point in the exquisite way that he used to.
Sometimes, when there was no sex and the two of them were just lying beside one another in bed, he felt as though he could somehow smell him on her, whoever the hell he was. Something primal reacting inside him in a manner that wasn't even especially overt in his mind. Whenever this occurred, he would find it very necessary to flee from the bed away from her, going to sleep on the couch for the remainder of the evening, but instead lying awake with thoughts of her and her mystery man doing the nasty in their own marital bed.
It was driving him crazy...
When he could find the constitution for denial, he did his damnedest to put it out of his mind to some degree or another, but of course that wasn't exactly the sort of thing a person can just switch on and off in their mind at a whim. The thoughts routinely came flooding back to him like nightmares whenever he was least expecting it.
In some ways, it made him seethe with hatred for Annie and the goddamn bastard son-of-a-bitch motherfucker who was intruding on their lives. And yet in others, he couldn't help but feel terribly deflated by the betrayal, like he was less of a man somehow for letting it happen so effortlessly on his watch, his ideal wife snatched away like nothing and traded in for nothing but his present hollow shell.
And throughout all of it, there was still that undying hope, that desire not to really know the full truth in fear of just what he might find out. If he didn't know for sure, he thought, he wouldn't ever have to face the humility of it. The shame and the pain... But, then again, he knew that he was just bullshitting himself. This wasn't the kind of thing he would be able to run from indefinitely, and if he did in fact try to he knew it would drive him fucking up the wall.
He had to find out the truth, as agonizing as it may have been, and probably would be, but the ignorance was slowly killing him even as he craved it so fiercely. He could feel the distance growing and growing between himself and Annie, and he feared that if he allowed it to continue in this manner then the two of them would be like strangers in his own house.
He had to act... In his heart, he had very little belief in the notion that it would do him a goddamn lick of good whatsoever, but he just had to know, to get to the bottom of it, and to give his many suspicions a name and a face to agonize over more directly.
He hired a private investigator. He knew, even as he had the meeting with the man, that this was an act of sheer desperation. People whose lives were in halfway decent shape, or else could lay claim to even a modicum of sanity, didn't routinely go around hiring P.I.'s to investigate on their supposedly cheating spouses for them. He knew that he was indulging in behavior that seemed to himself to verge on mentally ill and paranoid.
Yet he found himself not really giving a damn either way anymore. Either the P.I. would turn up precisely what Danny expected or else there would be nothing, and it would be proof just as well that he was crazy and belonged in the loony bin. Either way, he knew, there was no favorable outcome to be had, and he felt as though all it was in his power to do was to stand by helplessly and just wait for whatever bad results came his way.
And, of course, yes, his wife was in fact cheating on him, precisely as he'd known for some time, and as was no evident by the photographs taken by the investigator of Annie with a tall, dark-skinned man in a black leather jacket. The two of them grabbing a discreet bite to eat at a corner cafe and laughing their heads off as though they were having the best fucking time in the world.
The investigator had also run the man's license plates, and come back with a name for Danny, Daryl Jones. Danny was sure as hell not about to go and show up at the man's place of work looking for a fight, of course, or anything like that. In fact, once he had his hands on the information, he didn't know what the fuck he was going to do with it... He certainly wasn't about to go and confront him directly about the matter, given that he was a considerable degree larger than himself, and could likely snap in two like a twig without a moment's thought about the matter if Danny tried to attempt anything.
At any rate, he still found himself clinging on to one last bastion of hope that things might be other than the manner that seemed clearest and most likely. There could always be some kind of alternative explanation for all of this, he felt certain, other than just sex... The two of them had been seen going around town together, and that was all, really- there was no direct evidence of an affair, and it made sense that as a jealous husband that would be the conclusion that his mind most quickly jumped to, whether accurately or otherwise.
And so it was that he found himself heading out the door “for work” one day, getting in his car and circling the block, then pulling around an adjacent corner and whipping out a pair of binoculars. He stared at his and Annie's front door for some time. Scarcely blinking and his eyes getting watery and strained with the effort. When it was beginning to seem like he might have just picked a bad day for espionage, then, Annie stepped suddenly out of the house, locking the front door, and stepping into her car. Danny held his breath as she pulled away, zooming down the street and disappearing from view.
When she was out of sight, he scrambled from his car back up to the house, unlocking the door, stepping inside, and locking it back up again so as to make it look as though no one was home. And there he was at the present, sitting on the couch and waiting for his wife's return, sipping wine until he heard the pulling up of the vehicle outside on the street.
He scarcely got a look at his cuckolder as the two of them stepped out of the car with one another, and he suddenly felt his blood pressure rise and his pulse quicken as he scrambled to race them up to the bedroom. He could hear them just opening the front door downstairs by the time he closed the closet door in front of himself, concealing him from view, and leaving him with bated breath as he counted down the moments in his brain.
And then, there they were, Annie and Daryl, bursting into the bedroom scarcely a minute after he'd tucked himself away. The sight of them together making him sick as he watched them in such close proximity. They began to roll and to romp across the sheets of his own fucking bed, and he fought with the intense urge to look away on a regular basis, squinting his eyes tightly shut and avoiding the sight of the two of them like the plague...
But then- and largely in spite of himself- he found himself unable to look away... His eyes were wide with astonishment as the fabric of their clothes tumbled to the floor, and as their limbs twisted and contorted and dissolved madly into one another, black on white, white on black, his own cock shifting from a state of flaccidity into a long, curved blade of an erection. He found, in spite of himself, that he was getting mighty damn aroused at all of this...