Love, Lies and Punishment (Part 7 of Series)
Copyright© 2026 by BethanyBelow
Chapter 18: Thai Food
True Story Sex Story: Chapter 18: Thai Food - 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
I sat in the living room, spinning the cannibal fork in my hands, when Tyler came in with a bag of food and a smile that didn’t know I had spent the last two hours failing to leave him.
“There is my sexy little devil,” he said. “I brought you, Thai. Amber told me your favorites this morning.”
Amber.
Of course she had. Somehow during the ninety minutes she had spent trying to decide whether he was a danger, she had also found time to hand him a menu. What else had she told him while I was unconscious on the other side of the wall? I smiled anyway, because the bag smelled like the right place and because I was hungry in more than one way.
“That sounds wonderful,” I said. “I cannot believe you won her over. You did not win her over. You placated her. That is almost more impressive. How.”
He laughed and set the bag on the counter.
“I did not do anything special. I was honest with her. I was also concerned that if I turned my back, she was going to gut me like a fish. She had a look when she walked in.”
“She has a baseball bat,” I said. “She prefers to beat her victims into submission. Cleaner. Less laundry.”
We both laughed. It was easy, which annoyed me. He set the table. Plates. Water. He opened a bottle of wine without making a production of it. I sat, and the boxes were, unfortunately, correct—the drunken noodles. The green curry with the heat I pretend I can handle. The spring rolls I always say I do not need and then eat. Amber had been specific. I was going to have words with her that were not thank you.
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