Love, Lies and Punishment (Part 7 of Series)
Copyright© 2026 by BethanyBelow
Chapter 15: The Neighbor
True Story Sex Story: Chapter 15: The Neighbor - The 7th story in my Infidelity series about how I cheated on my BF, got involved with the guy I cheated with for 6.5 months and what started as a mistake, became an affair and then slowly turned into my loss of self and degradation. This 7th story takes place about 7 weeks after I first cheated. Be sure to read the previous stories for this to make sense.
Caution: This True Story Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Coercion Reluctant Romantic Heterosexual True Story Cheating BDSM DomSub MaleDom Humiliation Rough Spanking Anal Sex Cream Pie Enema Exhibitionism Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Squirting Water Sports Public Sex
“Need help carrying that?”
I listened until his car was gone.
The house got bigger without him in it. I sat up and looked at myself, which was a mistake I keep making. My blouse and skirt were on the floor. My thong was a wet scrap by the ottoman, useless now, a souvenir from a decision I had made with my hips.
I picked up the clothes, including the thong, because I didn’t want to forget it and have his cleaning lady find it. It was unwearable, so I dressed without it. The skirt against my bare skin reminded me with every move.
The overnight bag was still in my car, “In case.” My reflection in the mirror earlier had made me say it right. I went out to get it.
As I bent over to rummage through my car and grab my bag, a sudden voice startled me.
“Need help carrying that?”
I stood up straight and turned so fast the bag strap hit my hip.
Less than ten feet away, Gary stood watching me. The man from the window Tyler had named while I was bent over a chair in the backyard with writing on my breasts I was still not going to say out loud in a driveway. He was on his side of the walk, hose in one hand, apparently preparing to water plants that did not look like they had asked for company. He wore a big smile; of course he did. I had been bent over looking in my car, wearing a far too short skirt with no panties. My face did whatever panic looks like when it does not have time to pick a better expression. I felt it happen.
“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Saw you with the bag and it looked heavy, so I figured I’d offer to give you a hand.”
Sure, buddy. The bag was one step up from a backpack and held a change of clothes and the pajamas I had packed. I may only be five-three, but I moved patients for a living. The concern for my lifting capacity was touching and also nonsense.
I looked at him because not looking felt like cowardice and I had something to be ashamed of.
He was in his late fifties. Tyler had said fifty-eight. His face didn’t look that old, which wasn’t so much a compliment as a fact. This was not some frail, thin old man from a commercial about navigating stairs or lanyards with 911 call features. Gary was heavy-set, short for a man, maybe five-eight or five-nine. He carried most of his weight in his gut, likely from beer and a project he’d been working on for years. His face was pockmarked, his cheeks a ruddy color more likely from booze and not age. What hair he had left was thinning around the sides of his head and dyed, three or four different browns and a black that had not agreed to be friends. The top of his skull was a gloss pate bereft of hair. Whatever was missing from his scalp seemed to have moved to his arms, ears, and neck. There were tufts of thick coarse hair poking up from around the collar of an old T-shirt that had already lost an argument with sweat.
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