I drove the old van toward the small courtyard, gripping the steering wheel tightly, my heart pounding with tension.
Was Betty there, waiting in that little courtyard? As I pulled up beside the small house, I couldn’t bring myself to look through the glass at the courtyard gate.
Finally, I had to face it. I glanced at the time; it was 2:10 PM.
Turning my head toward the gate, I was strangely calm when I saw it was unlocked.
I took a deep breath, trying to reassure myself, and walked toward the house, though I felt the chance of finding what I hoped for was slim.
Inside, everything was as usual. The house was secluded and cheap, which is why few people would rent it.
The house was cold and damp, previously used as a storage room by the landlord who was more than happy to rent it to someone like me.
I had changed the locks myself; I was the only one with a key.
Sitting in front of my laptop, I hesitated to open the surveillance video of the courtyard across the way.
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I didn’t want to reopen wounds that had barely started to heal.
But I had to face whatever was there. I opened the live feed from the courtyard’s cameras.
To my surprise, only Michael was in the master bedroom, and there was no sign of anyone else in the house. His black Accord was parked in the yard.
Michael was in his pajamas, lying on the bed, texting rapidly on his phone, occasionally pausing.
What was he doing? Was he messaging Betty? Not seeing her there was a relief, but I couldn’t fully relax; maybe it just wasn’t time for their rendezvous yet.
Minutes ticked by, and Michael seemed to grow impatient, finally making a call.
"Hey, what time are you getting here?" he asked, trying to sound calm. A woman’s voice responded, too faint for me to hear clearly, but I was sure it was Betty.
"We’re not coming! Didn’t we plan this?" Michael’s voice grew louder, his face showing frustration.
"My dad’s fine, it’s just a cold, not that serious!" he sighed, sounding defeated. "Alright, forget today then. Will you come tomorrow?"
I strained to hear Betty’s response, hoping she would refuse him forever.
"Okay! Don’t back out this time, promise?" Michael’s face lit up with excitement at her words.
Hearing his tone, I knew how Betty had responded, and my heart ached slightly.
"Uh-huh! Bye, mwah..." Betty’s voice trailed off, and Michael ended the call with a virtual kiss through the phone. I watched, infuriated yet helpless, as Michael’s face disappeared from the screen. What could I do? I certainly couldn’t kill him. The thought alone made me shudder with a mix of fear and impotence.
After hanging up, Michael whistled a tune, seemingly to lighten his mood, then he headed to another room, which he had converted into a gym.
He stripped off his pajama pants, down to his underwear. His flaccid penis made a noticeable bulge in his tight boxer briefs, outlining its shape clearly against the fabric, tucked along his right thigh. He began lifting weights, and I couldn’t help but envy the muscles rippling across his body.
Soon, Michael was sweating profusely, his dark muscles glistening with sweat, making him look even more imposing.
The sight brought back images of Michael from the night before, dominating Betty, his body slick with sweat just like now.
I shook my head, trying to dispel these intrusive thoughts. After a while, Michael boldly stripped off his underwear, revealing his penis, which, even in its relaxed state, was significantly larger than average.
Michael stood there, breathing deeply, looking down at his penis as it began to swell and rise, slowly at first, then more assertively, until it stood erect, the tip brushing against his sweat-drenched abs.
Despite his towering height and muscular build, his enormous penis seemed almost disproportionate, highlighting just how extraordinary it was. Michael watched as his penis moved on its own accord, seemingly performing its own kind of exercise.
I envied how effortlessly Michael could become aroused without any external stimulation, while I often struggled to achieve even a semblance of an erection without Betty’s direct influence.
Watching Michael so freely control his body and his arousal, I wondered if all his training was for dominating Betty.
I had never seen Michael train like this before; back when we lived together, he would just jog in the mornings. It was clear now that his sexual prowess wasn’t just innate but also honed through diligent physical training.
After a while, Michael seemed satisfied with his workout. His penis relaxed, hanging heavily like a resting python. He wiped down his body with a towel, changed into fresh clothes, and tossed the sweaty ones into a laundry basket, perhaps waiting for Betty to wash them.
I turned away from the laptop and walked to the window, watching as the courtyard gate opened and Michael’s black Accord drove away, disappearing from view.
Where did Betty go today? Could they have another hideout in this city? Where was Michael headed now? I speculated that Michael might have another residence in a neighboring city or somewhere else in this city.
The neighboring city was too far for convenient visits from Betty, so another place in the downtown area of our city seemed more likely, though less discreet. That’s why this little courtyard was the perfect spot for their secret rendezvous.
Of course, there was also the possibility that without Betty, Michael might be out living it up, seeking the company of other women to satisfy his needs.
But these weren’t my primary concerns. Glancing at the clock, it was just 2:22 PM, still early. Since Betty wasn’t here, I felt a slight relief. Then I remembered something else from yesterday afternoon—the sex. Did they use protection, or not?
I hadn’t checked the trash for any discarded birth control packaging that morning. To resolve yesterday’s lingering questions, I pulled up the video, adjusting the timestamp to when I had left the house yesterday afternoon.
My emotions were mixed. What would it mean if Betty had indeed had unprotected sex? I wasn’t sure how I’d feel once I saw the outcome.
As I hesitated to click the mouse, my phone suddenly rang. It was Betty.
"Honey, where are you?" Betty’s voice came through, filled with fear and urgency.
"Just out clearing my head," I replied, stumbling over my words, searching for an excuse.
"You’re still not well, why go out? Where are you? Let me come pick you up." Betty’s voice softened with relief when she heard I was okay.
"Why come get me? You haven’t even finished work yet. I’ll be home soon." "I took the day off, bought a bunch of stuff, and came home early because I was worried about you being sick," Betty explained.
Her concern seemed genuine, but the sudden leave was suspicious. This time usually coincided with when Betty might have been meeting Michael at the courtyard.
I glanced at the still unopened video screen. Maybe there wasn’t time to watch it now.
And if I did watch, what sanity might I lose in the process?
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