Please Me Daddy

Gracie

My fiancé is gay.

That was the thought echoing through my head as I stood there frozen, watching a scene I could never unsee. I stared at the man thrusting into my fiancé's ass, and at Charles moaning like a goddamn whore in heat.

This was my fiance, the man I was supposed to marry in five days. The man I had shared a bed, a future, a life with for five whole years. But he was there, legs spread wide, eyes rolled back in bliss I had never seen cross his face when he was with me.

I couldn't breathe anymore, everywhere felt like it was spinning. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. My eyes stayed locked, watching as if my brain couldn't register that this was real.

"Ah, fuck, Mark... yes, I love this... fuck... you're so big." Charles moaned, and the words hit me like punches to the gut.

My hand flew to my mouth, pressing hard to keep the nausea down. My heart felt like it had been torn from my chest and shoved down a garbage disposal. Was this a nightmare? Was I going to wake up in our apartment, beside him, with his arms around me and none of this real?

"Fuck yeah, Charles, baby," the man grunted. "Take my big boy. Take him good."

"Ah, daddy! Give me your big boy!!!"

Tears burned the back of my eyes. My knees buckled slightly, and I reached out to the doorframe for support. Daddy? He had never called me anything in bed. What was I saying? He had never seemed that interested in sex with me. Two minutes. That was the amount of minutes he took before he came. Anytime I asked him for more, he would say he was tired or he would just give me a disgusted look before leaving.

My mind raced, spiraling out of control.

Is he gay? Bisexual? Has he always been like this? Had he been faking it with me? All these years? Every kiss, every time he said I love you, every plan we made for the future, was it all a lie?

I felt humiliated, sick, and like a goddamn fool.

How do women process this? How do they act when they find out their supposedly straight fiancé is getting his back blown out by another man days before the wedding? But what was I saying? Most women haven't caught their future husband mid-thrust with another man.

I felt something wet on my cheeks. My hand lifted, brushing my skin. I hadn't even realized I was crying.

"Fuck, yes, I'm close!!" Charles moaned from the bed.

I shook my head slowly, like maybe if I shook hard enough, I could wake up from this twisted reality. But the sound of him panting, the sight of them tangled together was still there.

I laughed bitterly. "You know what?" I said, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. "You're really fucking shameless, Charles."

They froze and Charles's head whipped toward me. His eyes stretched wide in panic. He scrambled away from the man between his legs, grabbing at the nearest blanket and yanking it over himself like that could somehow undo what I'd just seen.

"G-Gracie..." he stammered, his voice cracking. "What... what are you doing here?"

I pressed harder against the wall, still wiping at the tears with the back of my shaking hand, trying to stay on my feet.

"What am I doing here?" I repeated slowly, meeting his eyes. "That's the first thing you have to say? After I walk in on this?"

He shook his head, still clutching the blanket. "No. No, it's not- it's not what it looks like."

"Not what it looks like? Not what it looks like?!"

I pushed off the wall, legs wobbling, hands balled into fists. "Charles, you're cheating on me with a fucking man. In our bed. In the house we brought to live together after our wedding. You are spreading your ass for someone else, moaning his name like you have never been fucked before, and you have the audacity to tell me it's not what it looks like? What exactly does it look like, then?