The privilege few have. He didn't know how... but he felt it. Among so many, he was the chosen one. Not by chance, not by whim, but because she saw something rare in him: the perfect blend of devotion and courage to accept the game. She wasn't a woman who surrendered herself to just anyone. Her touch was a prize, her presence, sacred territory. And he... the chief worshipper... had the privilege of seeing what no one else saw. She let him watch her while another touched her. Not to diminish him, but to remind him of his place—the place he had earned. That body, dressed in the lingerie he himself had chosen, moved as if she knew exactly the effect she was having on him. She was the one who controlled every gesture, every sigh, every glance that crossed the room and met his, as if to say: "See... and understand that it is to you that I return." When it was all over, she approached him with the same elegance with which she had begun. And he, unable to contain the mixture of adoration and pleasure, fell to his knees before her. Not as a loser... but as someone who recognizes that he is facing a power to which he surrenders completely. Because, deep down, there was nothing more intoxicating than serving her... and worshipping her, even after seeing her surrender herself, with absolute intensity, in the arms of another man. #Cuckold