So You Want To Get Cucked? (Part 11) (Patreon)

Hi guys! In Part Ten you found out your boyfriend was probably cheating on you, but you decided to do some more digging rather than confront him and ask for the truth. So here's where the digging leads. Hope you enjoy it.

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You figure his phone will be the best place to start. He might have downloaded apps, or shared nudes, or exchanged messages arranging times and places to meet guys. You feel guilty about the betrayal that would be inherent in looking through his phone without permission, and for a little while that guilt keeps you from taking the opportunity. You’re thinking about it constantly though, and in a moment of weakness when he leaves his phone unattended you give in. You know you shouldn’t. But you tell yourself that he shouldn’t cheat on you either.

You put in the lock code; you know it because he’s told you it in the past. It doesn’t work though. You try it again to make sure you didn’t do it wrong the first time, but it still doesn’t work. He’s changed his lock code. Despite not being able to get in and see the proof, this just makes you more certain he’s hiding something.

With Frank’s phone off limits you’re at a loss about how to find out more about what he’s doing. That’s until you realise you can still get into his laptop. You wait till he’s out late one night after work — “for drinks with workmates”, he tells you, which you don’t believe for a second — and you log into his laptop. When you do you’re filled with that same guilty feeling, the rational part of your brain franticly waving red flags at you, but you press on.

You’d hoped he had the ‘find my phone’ function enabled, and you’re in luck. You open the window and the little dot is right where Frank said he’d be, at the bar across the road from his office. 

You keep the laptop open on the table, checking every ten minutes or so to see if anything’s changed. But he hasn’t. He’s still at the bar across the road from work. You go around and around in your head pondering the implications of this, at first wondering if maybe he’s there with someone he’s cheating with. You imagine it: a crowd of people from his work hanging out and decompressing after a hard week, oblivious to Frank and some guy from his office sitting side-by-side, stealing glances now and then, maybe letting hands brush across each other under the table, letting the tension build before eventually they say their goodbyes and pretend to leave separately before regrouping down the street and going back to the other guy’s place for forbidden, secret sex. It makes you start to get hard thinking about it, although you feel like it’s unlikely that he’d take that kind of risk with someone he sees on a daily basis. Still, it might be a stupid risk but it’s one that countless people have taken at some point.

You almost don’t notice when you look back about an hour later and find the a marker in a different spot on the map. You glance, glance away, and then do a double-take. He’s  moved about three blocks over. And the dot is still, which means he’s not just walking past, he’s stopped at a second location.

You study the street, trying to work out what might be there. As far as you know there are no food places around there, not that little patch of town. It’s more of a commercial-industrial kind of spot, if you remember right, the kind with nine-to-five small businesses that kind of dies as soon as working hours are over. You wonder if it’s someone’s home, that’s definitely a possibility. 

You’re sure the location seems vaguely familiar though, even though you can’t pick it. Till finally it hits you: there’s a sauna there, the kind that guys go to for sex. It always seemed a bit seedy, the kind of place that you’d never entertained the idea of visiting, even if you found it just the tiniest bit intriguing. Frank had been there a few times before the two of you had gotten together, you remember quizzing him about it when he’d first mentioned in passing that he knew the place, feeling scandalised that you were with a man who’d frequent that kind of establishment.

That’s where he must be now. You imagine him moving silently through hallways, wearing nothing but a towel, studying each man as they studied him back until he found one he wanted to take into some dark corner and share transitory, anonymous sex with.

You grab your keys and are out the door before you ever question, are you really doing this? Are you really going there? It seems like a rash move, but you already know that you have to do it.

The drive takes you about twenty minutes. You hope he’s still there by the time you get there, although you’re fairly sure he would be — if Frank’s going to do this surely he’s going to take his time to enjoy himself, not just blow ’n’ go after a few minutes. The place is right where you remembered it, an unassuming door with a light above it illuminating a small sign that said MEETS. It was the kind of place designed to go unnoticed unless you knew exactly what you were looking for.

You take a deep breath and pull open the door. There’s a staircase which you follow to the top, where you come to the admission booth where a middle-aged guy sits at a desk behind plexiglass. 

“One, please,” you say, knowing that it’s redundant but not sure how to ask for admission any other way.

You pay with your card, which you realise a moment too late was a stupid idea because now there will be evidence for Frank to find. The guy slides you a towel and a key through the gap under the glass, and then buzzes the door unlocked.

You go through, and although the layout is unfamiliar the way is pretty obvious. There’s a locker room, and you hurriedly strip off your clothes, suddenly realising that you’re completely exposed if Frank suddenly walks in here. Once naked you wrap the towel around yourself, and head through to where the action happens.

You realise you haven’t really thought this through, because Frank could come around a corner at any moment and see you here. But you’re here now, so you suppose you’re just going to have to take the risk. You go slowly, and peer around each new corner as carefully as you can while trying — and probably failing — to look natural. The layout is confusing: it’s arranged like a maze, the walls perforated by doors leading into small rooms. Some of the doors are open so you can see the layout: a simple platform with a vinyl-covered mattress in each, a basket of condoms and a soap dispenser that you assume probably contains lube on each wall. Every now and then the hallway opens out into a wider area, the first being a set up like a small amphitheatre where several guys are watching porn playing on a projector. You scan each of the faces, trying to make sure none are Frank before you have to step out into the room.

You leave that area and keep walking down corridors. Guys come and go, and occasionally you can see one run his eyes up and down the length of you, assessing you for suitability. You look at each one carefully, but not out of interest. You’re only checking to see if they’re Frank.

When you end up circling back into an area you’re sure you’ve already been, you decide that it’s looking more and more likely that Frank is already shut away in one of those private rooms. If that’s the case you’re not really sure what to do, because there’s no way you’ll be able to figure out which one is him. There’s not much you can do, other than keep looking around and hope you find him eventually.

You take a passage you think you haven’t taken before, but you’re not really sure at this point. You round a corner, and you see that the end of this stretch of corridor there are a couple of guys standing just inside a doorway, facing away from you and watching something. Your interest piqued, you walk to the end of the hallway and poke your head through the door to see what the guy is looking at. There are a couple more guys standing around the outskirts of the room, also watching what was going on in the middle.

You can see thick chains hanging from the ceiling. And when one of the guys in the doorway shifts his weight a bit you can see what’s going on in the middle. There’s a sling, and one guy is lying in it, his legs splayed wide against the straps, as another guy fucks him. There’s a third guy standing next to the one topping, egging him on and presumably waiting for his turn. And at the other end of the sling there’s one more guy, who you can only see from the back but presumably from the angle he must have his dick in the mouth of the guy lying in the sling. Seems like you’ve arrived at a particularly climactic moment, because from the grunts you can hear, and the way that everything is clenching in that fourth guy’s body from his ass cheeks to his shoulders, it appears that you’ve walked in just in time to see him empty his load in the bottom’s mouth.

Nine people in the room, all up. The stink of sweat, the naked hairy bodies, the grunts and moans and laughs of the audience, all combine to make it seem almost animal. Like pigs rutting in a pigpen. You find this kind of shocking that anyone would be depraved enough to make themselves a spectacle like this, yet you almost want to stay and watch. 

You linger for a few more seconds, and you’re just about to withdraw back into the corridor, when the guy who’d just been getting his dick sucked steps away. In that moment you get a look at the guy in the sling, and it’s Frank.

You don’t think he’s spotted you yet, and you’ve got a split second to decide if you want to keep it that way.