*** Disclaimer ***
The following story is a work of fiction. It contains themes of cheating, cuckoldry, voyeurism, exhibitionism and NTR. If this isn't the fetish for you, don't waste your time flooding my inbox with hate mail-- it'll only make me want to write and post MORE cuck stuff (unless, of course, that's your goal...)
Otherwise, I love hearing from fans, and welcome any suggestions, thoughts, criticisms, or fantasy ideas. Enjoy!
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CUCKED IN THE TROPICS Ch. 12
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Callie hadn't come back to the hotel room. Not the night that she'd gone out with Andre, and left Jake to cry in the shower. And not the second night after that.
Jake was past the point where he was emotionally hurt. He was all cried out. Now there was just an emotional numbness, combined with giving very little thought of the future beyond just his next couple of breaths.
During that time in the interim, Jake had slept very little. He'd eaten almost nothing. His stomach felt shaky and knotted. He inebriated himself with cheap alcohol and day time TV until he fell into an almost catatonic stupor. He looked and felt as though he'd been home from work with the flu. Nothing in his body was quite right.
By the time the third night arrived and Callie still hadn't returned, Jake decided that was all the answer he needed-- Callie had made her choice... and she hadn't picked him. She had left him, in favor of going off with Andre. There was no point in waiting around.
People might ask, why he even waited around at all. When he actually thought about it, the answer was the most honest that anyone in his shoes would have (though they'd never admit it)-- Jake simply hadn't known what else to do. The sudden gut punch of it all had rendered him dumbstruck, and instead of fighting or fleeing, he'd opted for the third (and most commonly used) option-- he froze.
But their vacation was almost over anyway. Their tickets to fly out of here were for tomorrow morning, and regardless of whether Callie returned or not, Jake would be on that flight. Jake suspected that Callie would opt to stay. She'd lost her mind anyway. She turned her back on her new husband. Why not turn her back on her whole life, for this guy? Her friends, family, home... all meaningless, so long as she was getting fucked by a dude with a big dick, right?
Jake packed his bags in silence. He took a moment to assess Callie's various articles that lay about the room. He picked up one of Callie's discarded shirts. The one from her class back home-- the one that all of her students had signed-- that, despite having shrunk in the wash, she wore it regularly. Jake had never minded, because it was skin tight against her tummy and boobs, and really highlighted how busty she was. But now Jake had this feeling of sadness all over again, as he looked over all of those scratchy little signatures. Those kids all loved Callie. She hadn't just abandoned her husband, in favor of a cheap affair, but she'd also abandoned all of those kids.
What a selfish bitch. He repeated those words out loud, and felt a weird sense of comfort, like a warm blanket wrapping around him. He might be in the depths of hell, rejection, and misery... but at least he wasn't alone. A lot of people were going to be hurt by Callie's actions. Maybe when Jake returned, they'd all sort of be each other's support group. That'd be nice-- the silver lining that would come out of all of this pain.
But then an alarming new thought occurred to Jake, as he looked over Callie's discarded things. "They're going to think I killed her." For one brief moment, that thought made his heart leap into his throat. There was no way people would believe his story. They'd rather demonize him as the real reason that she hadn't returned, instead of see the truth-- that a girl they all thought was nice turned out to not be so nice. Nobody would ever believe that a sweet innocent girl like Callie had cheated on Jake and left him for another man on their honeymoon. They'd all cry "foul play", they'd gossip, they'd point fingers, they'd turn on him, they'd hate him, they'd cast him out, just as Callie had cast him out.
On trembling legs, Jake wandered the room. He paused by Callie's things. A pair of earrings stood out to him. Small and gold-- the first jewelry Jake had ever bought her. It had been a "just because" gift in their first year of dating. No birthday or holiday. He'd gotten them for her just because he'd thought she was special. She'd worn them practically every day since then.
She wasn't wearing them now. She probably never would again.
"Oh who cares?" Jake suddenly decided. He'd deal with the bullshit back home, no matter if people believed him or not. Anything was better than staying here, where he wasn't wanted, and where his life constantly felt endangered.
He dropped his bags by the door, checked his passport, tickets, ID, and credit card. For some reason that he couldn't explain, he pulled off his shoe and rolled his sock down. He carefully tucked all of his most important cards and IDs against the sole of his foot before rolling his sock back up. He slid his shoe on after that. He'd walk to the airport if he needed to.
Then he arranged for a car to pick him up and take him to the airport in the morning. He made sure to specify that Andre not be the driver.
Then it was all set. There was nothing more to do, but get through the night. First thing in the morning, he'd be leaving this hell forever. Although he had no idea what the future would hold-- probably a lot of misery and depression for a while-- he felt good that he was leaving soon.
Even though he was ready, something didn't quite feel right. He knew what it was. He sighed and took off his wedding ring, leaving it on the end table. Well at least he'd kept his promises. It had only been a few days, but he'd kept them. That was more than he could say for Callie. He removed a sheet of stationary from a drawer. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say at this point. There was so much anger, sadness, hard feelings, and resentment, that he didn't think he could actually say anything meaningful.
Ultimately, he wrote the words "Goodbye Callie." That was the most simple, and straightforward that he could be, under the circumstances, without feeding into whatever warped way she was justifying her deviancy to herself. And Jake was sure that's exactly what Callie would do if he said anything more than that.
Whatever. That didn't matter anymore, either. Did it?
When Jake answered honestly, he felt oddly free. Liberated. The pain was still there, absolutely, but very little mattered to him anymore, unless it was what he wanted and only what he wanted.
He yawned and stretched. Maybe he would get some sleep after all, tonight. Or at least try to.
That was when he heard the knock at the door.
"Oh great," He groaned. So much for a clean getaway. The knot in his stomach tightened.
Well for the past few days, he'd figured that this conversation would be inevitable. He'd need to just be firm, but not mean, matter of fact, and stick with his choices. Whatever Callie chose to do was on her. But he wouldn't let her manipulate his decisions. She was a big girl who had made her choices this whole trip. She would have to make all of them from here going forward, no matter how much of a bitch she might be for this inevitable conversation.
Jake held his head high, his shoulders back, putting on a solemn dignified expression as he pulled open the hotel room door.
He paused in confusion. Not Callie, as he had been expecting. But a group of black men. And not employees of the hotel. Then Jake spotted tattoos, jewelry, torn jeans, and...
His eyes widened....beneath those shirts were the very distinct outlines of guns. The man in the front grinned wickedly, showing a set of yellowed teeth. He pushed Jake back, and one by one, the men began to file into the hotel room.
Jake's internal alarms were screaming for him to run. That it was finally going to end with him at the bottom of the ocean in a sunken cigarette boat. But when Jake turned back to the door, he spotted Callie.
