My dream home, bought with my wife under a scorching 35-year variable-rate mortgage. On our long-awaited moving day, I briefly left to handle registration paperwork at city hall—and my wife didn't waste a second. While I was gone, she was being deeply fucked by the sweaty, muscular movers. When I found out later, I struggled with restless anxiety in my groin and a reluctant erection as I questioned my wife about what had happened.