Chapter 1 — Late-Blooming Love

I'm approaching my 40s, just an ordinary office worker.

Thanks to my decently handsome looks, I've always shared warm, friendly banter with the female colleagues at work—enough to believe, perhaps mistakenly, that I'm somewhat popular. Before I met her, though, I'd lived a completely uneventful life—no scandals, no affairs, nothing. Just plain, simple, and utterly ordinary.

It all started about three years ago.

She was a mother, a woman with a sweet little daughter. Whenever I saw her around the office, I couldn't help but notice her gentle smile and elegant poise. I always thought to myself: I wish I could get to know her better.

But I never had the courage to say more than a few words. I'd just watch her from afar, heart pounding, too timid to approach. That was all—just longing, silent and unspoken.

Maybe she'd been watching me too, from a distance.

Today was her birthday.

After a casual dinner with coworkers—our usual boisterous office gathering—we headed to a nearby karaoke bar for round two. Alcohol, as always, worked its magic.

Maybe it was the drink, or maybe it was something deeper, but that night, I felt bolder than ever. As she sat there, laughing with the others, I reached out without hesitation, grabbed her hand, and pulled her straight into my arms.

Her perfume was sweet—intoxicating. I just held her, close and tight.

My body stiffened with awkwardness, but my heart was racing. I didn't care about anything else. I just wanted to hold her, to press her against me, even if tomorrow brought nothing but awkward silence.

Her curves were fuller than I'd imagined—so soft, so thick.

I shouldn't be doing this… But desire overwhelmed me. I pressed my entire body against hers, clinging to her like I never wanted to let go.

An awkward pause. The others were watching.

I knew we couldn't stay like this. So I leaned in and asked, “Can I give you a ride home?”

Her place wasn't far—just a twenty-minute walk from mine. But I didn't want the night to end.

I parked near a quiet park close to her house. The area was deserted.

Letting her go now felt unbearable—like a loss I couldn't accept.

After a long silence, I turned to her and spoke, raw and honest.

“I know this is out of line… but I really want to kiss you right now.”

She didn't answer. Just silence.

But silence can mean consent.

I leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were soft, warm, damp.

For a moment, they trembled.

She's nervous…

My hand moved instinctively to her face, brushing her cheek. She leaned into my touch.

Desire surged. The cramped car made everything harder, more urgent.

I pulled her closer, and she didn't resist. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure she could hear it.

She pulled her legs together, then relaxed them again.

I couldn't take this any further here.

“We should go somewhere else,” I said.

“Even if I regret it tomorrow… I need to be with you now.”

I didn't wait for her reply. I started the car and scanned the streets.

No love motels. Nothing.

“Drive faster,” I urged. “Just find somewhere.”

Ten minutes later, we spotted a run-down inn, its sign flickering weakly in the dark.

We hesitated at the entrance.

I grabbed her hand—firm, almost forceful—and pulled her inside.

The room smelled stale. The silence was heavy.

Uncomfortable, I pulled her into my arms, holding her like a first love.

I gently pushed her toward the bathroom, as if guiding her through something sacred.

Naked beneath the shower, she was breathtaking.

For a mother, her body was perfect—curved in all the right places, soft yet firm.

To ease the tension, I teased her with the showerhead, spraying water playfully.

I stepped out first, sat on the edge of the bed, heart pounding.

Nervous. Anxious. Curious. Then, fantasy took over.

She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a long towel.

This is really happening. I'm about to make love to the woman I've only ever admired from afar.

I laid her down beside me, turned on the TV—just noise to fill the silence. Neither of us watched.

I looked at her face. God, she's beautiful.

I kissed her lips lightly. She smiled—awkward, shy, but willing.

I turned off the TV. Darkness swallowed the room.

I pulled the towel from her body.

Her smooth skin sent shivers through me. I'm going to lose my mind.

I wanted to take her right then—but I held back.

I wanted this moment to be even more unforgettable than before.

Slowly, I kissed her—starting from her face, trailing down.

Forehead. Eyes. Nose. Lips. Neck. Ears. Then her breasts.

Her body twitched. She was ticklish—nervous.

I could feel her warmth against me, the desire building between us.

Her breasts were perfect—not too big, not too small. Soft, full, firm in my hands.

I kissed past her navel, moving lower, unstoppable.

I wanted to taste her—right away—but I waited.

Starting from her knees, I kissed my way back up, lips gliding over her inner thighs, inching toward where she wanted me.

She twitched again and again.

I spread her legs.

In the dim light, she lay bare before me.

This moment—this act—was something I'd never dared to dream.

I leaned in, breathed her in.

She'd just showered—soap and clean skin, but underneath, the scent of her arousal.

I kissed her there, gently.

She jerked. Her body tensed.

Instantly, she clamped her legs shut.

“No,” she whispered.

“What? Why?”

“I've… never done this before.”

I froze. I'd assumed…

But then—a thrill shot through me.

Even better.

I pressed her legs open again, kissed her more deeply.

She writhed, unsure, overwhelmed.

Her helplessness only made me want her more.

After minutes of teasing, I slipped my hand between her legs.

She was so wet—aroused beyond measure.

I kept kissing—her folds, the sensitive bud above.

I kept touching—gently, deliberately.

Her juices ran down my hand.

Then—suddenly—her body seized.

A sharp spasm. She clenched around nothing, gripping tight.

She came—hard.

I pulled my hand free, wiped it on the sheet.

I was ready—fully hard, aching for her.

I moved over her, ready to join our bodies together.

Pushed.

Sliiide—

Her wetness made it easy. I sank deep into her, swallowed by her heat.

I wanted to feel all of her—so I thrust all the way in.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, holding on tight.

“Hah… hah… huuu…”

Her moans were soft—embarrassed—but they echoed in my ears.

Plick. Plick. Plick.

The sound of us joining—wet, rhythmic, loud.

She wasn't tight—she'd given birth, after all—but the fact that I was inside her, that this beautiful woman was mine in this moment, was pure ecstasy.

I didn't want it to end. I held back, savoring every second.

“Can I come inside?” I asked.

“Yes… it's okay.”

And with a final thrust, I erupted.

Jet after jet of cum flooded her.

I collapsed on top of her, breathless, spent.

I looked at her face—felt a pang of guilt, maybe.

But it was too late.

This was the beginning.

Our first love—late, forbidden, but real.