Giving Myself Away, One Piece at a Time (Part 3 of Series)
Copyright© 2026 by BethanyBelow
Chapter 5: Predator and Prey
True Story Sex Story: Chapter 5: Predator and Prey - The third in my infidelity series, dealing with the continued fallout of my cheating and my continued descent.
Caution: This True Story Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Reluctant Heterosexual True Story Cheating MaleDom Humiliation Rough Spanking Analingus Masturbation Oral Sex Spitting Squirting
We loaded into Mike’s car. Lily and Sophie claimed the back seat with the tablet and a running list of animals they hoped to see. Mike pulled out of the driveway and headed north. For the first twenty minutes, the conversation was easy: Sophie described a giraffe video she had watched three times, Lily asked whether the cheetahs would be out, and Mike answered with the patient, slightly amused tone he reserved for their endless questions. His right hand rested on my thigh whenever the road allowed, warm and familiar. The pressure sat directly above the deep teeth marks Tyler had left the night before. Every small shift of the car made the mark pulse.
We were almost to the freeway when Mike glanced over. His eyes lingered on the side of my face for a second longer than usual.
“New earrings?” he asked, voice light, almost teasing. “I thought those diamond ones were permanently attached. Finally gotten sick of wearing the same pair every day and needed something new to spice things up?”
The words were like a dagger straight to my heart. Heat flooded my face. I kept my eyes on the road ahead and managed a small, careful laugh that sounded almost natural.
“Just felt like a change,” I said. “The diamonds are still my favorites. I just ... wanted something different today.”
Mike smiled, completely unaware, and gave my thigh a gentle squeeze. “They look good on you. Blue suits you.”
I nodded and turned my face toward the window so he would not see the pain his squeezing my thigh had caused and whatever expression had taken over. Inside, the comparison arrived fully formed and refused to leave. The diamond studs had been a gift that said, “I see you, I remember what you like, I choose you.” Losing one of them and replacing the pair with something brighter, cooler, more deliberately different felt exactly like what I had done with the rest of my life. Mike was steady, known, loved. Tyler was the sudden blue flash, the spicier choice, the thing that made every nerve light up even while it left bruises. I had taken off the symbol of one and put on the other as if the swap could be casual. The guilt sat thick and metallic under my tongue for the rest of the drive.
Safari West opened in front of us under a clear, slightly hazy sky. We parked, collected the tickets, and climbed into one of the open-sided safari vehicles with two other families. Sophie claimed the seat beside me. Lily sat across the aisle with Mike. The guide, a woman with sun-darkened skin and a practical braid, started the engine and the vehicle rolled forward into the preserve.
The first animals were a scattering of zebra and a small group of antelope that watched us with mild interest before moving on. Sophie pointed and narrated. Lily asked quiet, precise questions. Mike answered when he could and looked to me when he could not. I performed the right responses. I leaned close to Sophie when she tugged my sleeve. I smiled at Lily’s observations. Under the long sleeves and the careful posture, the marks kept their own conversation: the bruise near my left nipple tightening whenever the vehicle hit a rut, the teeth marks on my inner thigh answering every time I shifted my weight, the long scrape between my shoulder blades pressing into the hard edge of the bench.
We had been moving for nearly forty minutes when the guide slowed the vehicle and pointed toward a low rise of dry grass and scattered trees.
“Cheetah,” she said, voice carrying easily over the soft engine noise. “See him? He’s been tracking that group of Thomson’s gazelles on the other side of the fence for a while now. In the wild, a cheetah is all about stealth. He stays low, stays hidden, and uses every bit of cover. He waits until the gazelle is completely unaware, unsuspecting, vulnerable, before he makes his move. Then it’s pure speed. He closes the distance in a burst you can barely track with your eyes, takes the animal down, and suffocates it. It’s over almost before the rest of the herd knows what happened.”
The guide’s description- the words “vulnerable” and “suffocates,” struck me so hard I had to turn my head to look away from everyone else, lest they see what must be written so plainly on my face.
I watched the distant, spotted shape of the cheetah hold perfectly still in the grass and the mental parallel assembled itself without permission.
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