Martha rushed upstairs to the master bedroom, ready to confirm her suspicions. She flung the door open to find the babysitter on her knees with a mouthful of her husband.
“How could you?” she asked, with a mixture of anger and jealously running through her.
He turned to look at his wife, placing his hand on the back of the babysitter’s head to make sure she kept diligently working her slurping mouth.
“The pool boy you fucked was her boyfriend,” he replied.
Martha stood motionless, except for her trembling limbs, shocked by how her husband’s revenge had exposed her hypocrisy.
