Chapter 1 — An Affair with My Wife's Friend

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. All characters are adults aged 18 or over.

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She answered the phone but said nothing, then hung up. I caught my breath and called again.

She picked up once more. From the way she kept repeating "Hello? Hello?" despite clearly knowing it was a strange man calling, I sensed an opening—and finally spoke.

I told her I didn't know her at all, that I must have misdialed earlier. But after hanging up, the lingering warmth of her voice had drawn me back. If it wasn't too much of a bother, I said, I'd love to become friends—even if only over the phone sometimes.

Seeing that she didn't get angry or flustered, but calmly continued the conversation, I knew—Yes. Got it. I gently steered the talk forward.

Just as rumored, I thought. And surprisingly, she responded with ease, matching my tone perfectly.

After that, I'd occasionally call her, chatting about random things in our daily lives. Then I dared to bring up sex—bluntly, provocatively. But she didn't shy away. Not at all. She took it all in stride, responding without hesitation.

Our talks gradually turned intimate, charged with the quiet intensity of lovers. Eventually, I suggested we meet.

She lived in Incheon, Bucheon—Bupyeong, to be exact. I was in Gimpo. It wasn't far. We agreed to meet at a coffee shop near Bucheon Songnae Station, and I arrived early, waiting.

It was noon. I was sitting with my back turned when she entered, glancing around the nearly empty café. She spotted me—and froze.

Shock flashed across her face. Utter disbelief. How could she, a housewife with no history of such affairs, end up face to face with her friend's husband?

I was dazed too, but at least I'd prepared myself. She sat down across from me, and I launched into a ridiculous, half-hearted excuse—anything to win her favor. I said anything that came to mind.

As time passed, she slowly relaxed. I suggested lunch, and we left for a meal. Afterward, we moved to another cozy café with a more private atmosphere.

We sat across from each other, surrounded by potted plants that created a secluded, almost intimate space. I couldn't hold back.

"Sarah… let me see your feet for a second," I said, reaching under the table. I took her foot and pressed it against my fully erect cock.

Back and forth we lingered, then I suggested we go to the adult lounge on the third floor of the café. Despite it being our first meeting, she didn't refuse. She followed me in.

I picked a porn video and had it played, then lay back on the reclining chair—bed-like and soft. I gently took her hand, stroking it, then guided it down to my crotch.

Of course, I was touching her breasts at the same time.

Then I unbuckled my belt, pulled her hand into my underwear—and suddenly, without warning, she took my cock into her mouth and started sucking.

I was stunned. Utterly dazed. It was insane. Euphoric.

I couldn't hold back anymore. I came inside her mouth. She swallowed every drop—without hesitation, without spilling a single drop.

At 43, this was the most intense, euphoric experience of my life.

The sky turned white. My head felt empty. Dazed, breathless, I stared at her for a long time.

Then one day, her husband accidentally saw an email I'd sent her.

Without warning, he called my phone, screaming like a madman. In crude words, he roared, "I'll kill you!" and hung up.

It turned out she'd carelessly left my emails unguarded. He found them, demanded the truth—and she confessed everything, including my number.

After that, I erased every trace—her number, her emails, everything. And then, three long years passed.

My wife Emily and Sarah remained in occasional phone contact, but never met.

Then one day, she called me.

A few friends were gathering at my house, she said. They were driving via the Gyeongin Expressway and she needed directions.

I had moved from Gimpo to Hwagok-dong since then, so she didn't know the way.

We talked. And a few days later, we met again.

On a rainy day, inside my car, she grabbed my cock and gave me a handjob.

Semen splattered all over the car. We parted. Now, we talk two or three times a week—filthy, explicit phone calls filled with every kind of dirty talk.

I've suggested we meet again, but she hesitates. The fact that I'm her friend's husband seems to weigh on her mind.

She won't agree outright.

And honestly, given everything that's already happened, her hesitation doesn't quite make sense. But for now, she refuses to go all the way—to mix flesh with me, to let our genitals touch.

Last Saturday, I called her. She said her body felt unbearably hot. Then suddenly, she started moaning.

She was masturbating, speaking into the phone, screaming, "Ah~~~! Ah~~~!" at the top of her lungs.

I was driving on the highway at the time. I nearly lost control.

She moaned and moaned, then fell silent—catching her breath. She'd come. After a while, we chatted about other things and hung up.

She always seemed a little sensual, even casually—but in moments like this, she becomes someone entirely different.

Is this really a human being? Is this what women are like? Is she the only one? Or can other women, under the right circumstances, reveal this kind of hidden passion?

She mentioned she once met a young couple through a random chat—and now she wants to try a group sex encounter with them.

With me, she says it's too complicated, too much pressure. But she subtly suggested: what if we tried a swap with that couple?

I told her to contact them. But she said she hadn't been in touch for so long—she'd forgotten their number. She only had their email ID—Set3i—but they weren't checking it, so she couldn't reach them.

I don't know where this will go next.