“Fuck, it can’t be!!” Mr. Hiromoto sweared as he watched his big-tittied wife get in a Ferrari with a fat, sweaty, ugly bastard.

“We’ve been married for six years! How could she do that to me!?”

The red traffic light turned to green one and the cars behind Mr. Hiromoto already started beeping and horning their car horns. The Ferrari drove off in a direction that was not where Mr. Hiromoto planned to go to pick up his wedding anniversary gift for his wife, but he was determined to follow the bright red sports car to its destination.

“Maybe there’s some explanation to this,” the teacher mumbled. “Maybe he’s just one of her bosses and she needed to help him write his speech away from the busy noises of the office. Yes, that’s it! She’s just going to help him write where’s there’s some privacy… just the two of them… She’ll help him write as she’s sitting on that fat pig’s lap, stroking his cock-FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!”

Mr. Hiromoto almost drove off the street and into the sidewalk and a crowd of people as he imagined another man’s cock in his wife’s hand.

“Nonono! That can’t be it! Not today! It’s our anniversary!” Mr. Hiromoto tried calming himself. “Stop thinking nonsense! There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for why she’s wearing a slutty dress while hugging another man’s arm!”

The Ferarri drove to the very outskirts of the city. When the red sports car finally stopped, Mr. Hiromoto parked his car some distance behind so that his wife wouldn’t notice him. He got out of his car and carefully snuck behind a dark corner of a building and watched the fat bastard open the door for his wife. As he watched, he saw a gold wedding ring, crusted with diamonds on the man’s finger.

“See? He’s married! Of course there wasn’t anything fishy going on,” Mr. Hiromoto reassured himself. “What was I even thinking! To suspect my wife of something indiceeeeeeee-”

Mr. Hiromoto choked on his words as he read the name of the building that the pair were walking toward the entrance of.

‘Motel Love’

“M-maybe they’re expanding into motel business,” Mr. Hiromoto tried to find some justification for what he was seeing as his wife walked toward the entrance with her boss. The glass doors that had ‘Welcome’ written on them parted, and the pair walked in. The fat boss grabbed Mr. Hiromoto’s ass and squeezed tight as they disappeared into the bowels of the motel.

“M-maybe it’s an undercover operation,” Mr. Hiromoto kept spewing bullshit while desperately trying to deny that his wife was cheating on him on their anniversary day. “Y-yes! An undercover operation to find out who’s been stealing money from their motel business!”

Mr. Hiromoto was determined to prove his insane theory right. He waited for a couple of minutes to give time for his wife and her boss to disappear from the lobby and then went inside.

A beautiful, young receptionist stood at the desk. For some reason she wore a French maid outfit with a boob window, as well as a pink wig that covered her left eye.

Mr. Hiromoto did not care how the receptionist looked and just stormed toward the desk. The moment he reached the desk, he slammed his hand on the desk with all the cash that he planned to use to buy the anniversary gift and said, “That’s my wife! What room did they go to?”

The receptionist looked with her right eye at the sweating, bright red in fury teacher, completely unimpressed by his appearance, attitude or plight. She then looked at the cash on the desk. She took the bills and started quickly counting them in her hands.

Once she was done counting, the French maid receptionist looked at Mr. Hiromoto again and said, “Room 807.”

“Thank you!” Mr. Hiromoto said and rushed toward the stairs. As he ran past the elevator he saw that the number above the elevator doors did indeed display the number eight.