I can’t believe I’m watching this, my wife’s lips locked with another man’s, her eyes closed, lost in the moment. She’s wearing that thin-strapped dress, the one that drives me wild, and she’s kissing him like she’s never kissed me. I’m supposed to be okay with this, right? That’s what she says, that it’s just a game, but it doesn’t feel like a game when I see her like this, so eager, so turned on. I should be the one she’s kissing, the one she’s looking at with that hunger in her eyes. But no, it’s him, the man in the suit, the one who’s not me. I’m just the cuckold, the one who’s supposed to be happy that his wife is happy, even if it’s not with him. I should walk away, but I can’t. I’m stuck here, watching, feeling every kiss like a knife to my heart. She’s my wife, and she’s kissing another man, and I’m just supposed to take it. I’m just supposed to be okay with it. But I’m not. I’m not okay with this at all.
