Only when I was a teenager did I discover my father was a cuckold and that my mother was promiscuous. I guess that’s normal. Not normal that mom had lovers all the time! But normal that I wouldn’t know.
Overnight visitors sometimes pretended to be houseguests (“Uncle Terry is Dad’s friend from college; he’s visiting the city”. Other times they were men from close by who “had too many drinks and he’s going to sleep in the guest room,” which made sense before Uber was invented. Dad even lectured me about alcohol when I got my learners’ permit, said I should never drink and drive, so I was slow to see the men for the bulls they really were.
The cover story didn’t have to be airtight to fake out a small kid, but in my teens I figured stuff out. Heard footsteps in the hallway in the middle of the night. Saw a glimpse of “Uncle Terry” coming out of the wrong bedroom at 5 am. I googled “cuckold” stuff in the public library because I didn’t dare do it on our home PC. Masturbation now involved fantasy images of my mother and another man. Neither the fact that she was a hotwife, nor the fact that I now fantasized about her bothered me much. It was the fantasies that allowed me to not judge her, if that makes sense.