Love, Lies and Punishment (Part 7 of Series)
Copyright© 2026 by BethanyBelow
Chapter 44: Che Tyler
True Story Sex Story: Chapter 44: Che Tyler - 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 heard him before I turned. I turned away from the sink where I was washing up and towards the noise of his approach anyway, and the breath left me.
He had dressed like the reservation was real. He was wearing a jacket, his shirt open at the throat. The kind of put-together that makes a kitchen feel underdressed. He looked hot, stupidly hot and sexy, and my body answered before my sarcasm did, a clench around the plug, a rush I was not putting on the menu.
“That is illegal,” I said.
“The jacket.”
“The whole outfit.”
He crossed the room and kissed me, deep, tongue, a hand at the small of my back that almost found the secret and did not. My legs almost went out from under me, and the plug did not help. Nothing helped. I kissed him back and thought, clear as a bell: I love this man, and I am going to let him have the last thing, and I am terrified, and I am not backing out.
“Did you bring any other clothes?”
“A few things. I doubt I meet the dress code. The owner sounds strict.”
“I know the owner. I can get an exception made. He is weak for a woman who argues with him about the outdoor dining arrangements.”
“Tell the owner he is transparent.”
We laughed. He took the steaks and went out. I went to the bathroom and became the exception.
I put on the plunging black cocktail dress that was open in the front and open in the front, the heels, no bra, no panties, makeup. I looked at myself, and I looked as hot as the night I had worn the same black dress for Mike. Hotter, maybe, because I knew what was hiding under it. Walking in the heels with the plug was a negotiation that I figured out with small steps, wearing a smile as I meant it.
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