Chapter 1 — An Encounter in an Unfamiliar Town

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.

---

Because of my job, I travel across the country visiting clients.

Whenever I'm alone in a motel room at night, I've often found myself easing the loneliness.

That day, I was on another business trip to a remote area.

Before heading to the client's office, I had some free time, so I sat in my car idly browsing my phone, reading erotic stories.

Bored, I opened a chat app and sent messages to several people.

But all I got back were cold, blunt rejections....

I sent out a few more invitations and started browsing the internet when suddenly, one person replied.

It was a woman—living in the very town I was visiting.

We exchanged a few messages on the app, cautiously probing each other.

She was in her mid-forties. (I'm in my early forties, by the way.)

As we chatted casually, she suddenly asked me for my KakaoTalk ID.

I gave it to her, and shortly after, she messaged me there.

We began to open up more through KakaoTalk.

Then, out of nowhere, she asked me to send a picture of my face.

We'd barely exchanged a few words—why was she already asking for a photo?

It felt a bit strange, even suspicious.

So I sent a photo where only half my face was visible.

She replied, accusing me of teasing her, and demanded another picture.

Thinking what's the worst that could happen?, I sent a clearer one.

Then—she sent me a photo in return.

She looked… average, I suppose.

When I suggested we be more honest with each other, she said she was looking for something serious—someone to be a long-term friend, a lover.

I agreed, saying I felt the same, and we both sensed a mutual understanding.

I asked her to guide me around her town, and she happily offered.

She said she wasn't far, and we set a time to meet.

I started driving toward her.

On the way, she messaged, saying she wanted to talk on the phone.

When I asked for her number, she immediately sent it.

I called, and she picked up.

Without prompting, she started talking—she'd had a boyfriend, but they'd recently broken up. Now she was looking for someone new.

I thought to myself: This might actually go somewhere.

Still on the phone, I drove closer to her.

I arrived at our meeting spot first.

After parking, I called her—she said she was on her way and asked me to wait a moment.

Soon, she arrived.

But her face looked a little different from the photo.

Still, she wasn't unpleasant to look at, so we greeted each other and moved into my car.

I hadn't eaten lunch and was starving, so I asked if she wanted to grab dinner.

She happily agreed, playing the role of my guide as she led me to a restaurant.

In the car, our arms brushed against each other on the armrest.

I subtly touched her arm, commenting that her skin felt soft.

She didn't pull away—just let it happen, quietly accepting my touch.

We arrived at the restaurant.

It was still early, but the place was already crowded.

I don't usually like busy places.

We were strangers who'd just met over chat—awkward, unfamiliar.

We ordered food and tried to talk, but it was too noisy to have a proper conversation.

When the food came, she kindly served me, and we ate together.

I barely tasted it—just filled my stomach and left.

I'd been driving all day, and my head was pounding with fatigue.

When she offered to show me around more, I told her I was too tired.

Instead, I suggested we go back to where her car was parked—the place where we first met.

We parked side by side and stayed in the car, talking.

I asked why she'd agreed to meet me.

She said my message on the chat app had struck her—something about it felt warm, inviting.

And when we spoke on the phone, my voice sounded kind.

Truthfully, I'm just an ordinary middle-aged man with no partner. Opportunities like this rarely came my way. (This was only my second time meeting someone from a chat app.)

So I quietly listened as she talked about her family, her children.

By now, holding hands felt natural. We casually intertwined fingers, rubbing our arms as we spoke.

Then, I gently placed my hand on her breast.

She didn't move.

I think… this is happening, I thought.

Slowly, I began escalating the physical contact.

She verbally protested—Why are you doing this?—and tried to push my hand away.

But her resistance was weak, almost perfunctory.

After testing her willingness in the car, I said I was too tired and needed to check into a motel soon.

She paused, then said she'd go ahead—Follow my car.

I turned my car around and followed hers.

After a short drive, her car turned into a motel.

I followed.

We held hands as we walked in, checked into a room, and entered together.

Once inside, an awkward tension settled between us.

But as we lay on the bed, talking, I kept touching her breasts.

At first, she resisted slightly—but soon, she just lay still.

I said I'd quickly go wash up and headed to the bathroom, scrubbing myself clean.

She stood up, saying she'd shower too—but she didn't have spare clothes.

So, in front of me, she turned off the light, kept only her panties on, grabbed a robe, and walked into the bathroom.

While she was showering, I thought—So this kind of chance really exists…

When she finally came out, wrapped in the robe, I made space on the bed and turned on the TV, using the sound to ease the mood.

Then, slowly, my hand moved toward her breast.

Her breasts weren't large, but her nipples were—proportionally bigger.

I couldn't tell if they were naturally like that or if they'd hardened from my touch, but they were stiff.

Probably from my touch, I thought.

I gently pulled her robe aside and began seriously caressing her.

I kissed her, slipping my tongue into her mouth.

At first, she stayed still.

But as I touched her breasts, gently rubbing her nipples with my fingers while kissing, she began to respond.

Slowly, she started sucking on my tongue.

Her kissing wasn't particularly skilled.

She didn't seem like someone who was wildly passionate.

Yet here she was—following a stranger to a motel on their first meeting.

Either she really liked me… or she'd been craving this all day. One of the two.

After a long kiss, I slowly trailed my lips down her neck, then focused fully on her modest-sized breasts.

Her large nipples made them easy to suck.

I alternated between both, and soon, soft moans began escaping her lips.

Later, she told me her whole body was sensitive.

I faithfully pleasured her with my mouth and tongue, slowly heating her up.

At the same time, I gently began pulling down her panties.

Once they were off, I kept sucking her nipples while slowly moving my lips down—past her armpits, down her torso.

Moans poured from her mouth.

My lips explored every inch of her body—my hands busy, one massaging her breast, the other starting to touch her pussy.

Then her moans grew louder.

I kept both hands moving, building her arousal, while my mouth steadily moved downward.

Finally, I reached between her legs.

Her pussy wasn't very hairy—neat, and slightly small.

I spread her legs wide and dove in.

Using both hands to open her, I curled my tongue and began licking deeply, rhythmically.

At the same time, I gently rubbed her clit with my fingers, pleasuring her with mouth and tongue.

Her hands flailed, unsure what to do, while moans spilled continuously from her lips.

After what felt like enough, I slowly moved back up—sucking her nipples again, one hand still rubbing her pussy, making her even more aroused.

I slid a finger into her pussy—tight. Not loose at all. It gripped my finger tightly.

Exactly the feeling I'd hoped for.

Finally, ready to enter her, I kissed her deeply while slowly positioning myself below.

Then—my cock began sliding into her pussy.

Just as I'd imagined—her pussy felt incredibly tight. Full.

It felt like she was a virgin—so snug.

As my cock entered, her mouth opened wide, and she let out a deep moan.

My hips began moving slowly at first, then steadily faster between her spread legs.

Her moans grew louder. Her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me close.

As I picked up speed, I felt her pussy clamp down tightly on my cock.

I don't think I can last long, I thought.

She kept crying out, and I thrust harder, sweat pouring from my body.

Then—I felt the signal approaching.

I asked, Can I come inside?

She said, It's okay. Just come inside me.

Can my luck really be this good? I thought, and thrust harder toward climax.

Finally, the signal hit—I came without hesitation, emptying myself deep inside her.

She seemed satisfied, breathing heavily, her breath ragged.

Sweat glistened all over my body.

That night, I had turned a complete stranger into my lover.

We lay on the bed, her head on my arm, talking casually.

I touched her breasts again, gently rolling her nipples between my fingers.

Soon, the signal returned—my cock stirring.

I began touching her again—one hand on her breast, the other moving back to her pussy, rekindling her arousal.

She murmured, Again?

Of course, I said, and started sucking her nipples once more.

At first, she stayed quiet—but soon, soft moans began escaping her lips again.

I focused on pleasuring her pussy.

Just like before, even inserting a finger made me feel how tight she was.

I pushed a finger inside, rubbing her clit with my palm, building her excitement.

As her moans grew louder, I knew she was ready.

I aimed my cock at her pussy and slowly pushed in.

The tightness upon entry was indescribable.

My hips started slow, then picked up speed.

Her cries grew louder.

I sucked her breasts, touched her everywhere, kept thrusting—until once again, the signal approached.

This time, I didn't even ask.

I came—deep inside her, without restraint.

She didn't hesitate—she wrapped herself around me, pressing her body against mine.

I'd made love to a stranger—twice in one night.

She lay in my arms, as if wanting to stay.

But then she said she had to work the next day—she needed to go home.

Honestly, I'd gotten what I came for. I didn't feel particularly sad to see her leave.

As she was about to go, she asked when I'd be back in town.

I said, In about a month.

She smiled—Next time, let's stay together—spend the night and the next day too.

I said, We'll see when the time comes.

But her eagerness unsettled me—just a little.

She reminded me—We're both married. We have to protect each other. I understand—no contact during weekdays, only evenings and holidays…

Still, she said she'd be waiting for me next month.

She'd even plan a schedule—places for us to go, things for us to do together.