Chapter 1 — Lending My Wife - Part 1 (1)

Familiarity between spouses brings unmatched comfort. The rhythm of shared life, the sound of each other's breathing, even the way they make love—everything has settled into a known pattern.

But sooner or later, ennui coils up like a snake and strikes.

For me, five years into marriage with my wife—two years my senior—it was no different.

I first fell for her during our final year of university, when I happened to sit in front of her at the library. She had glanced at me with a cold, almost scolding look—and I was instantly drawn in.

She remained aloof throughout our courtship. It took me three years of relentless pursuit before, at the age of twenty-eight, she finally accepted my proposal.

Afraid she might change her mind, I rushed our wedding preparations. That autumn, we married.

"Hmm… mmm…"

As always, our lovemaking began with a kiss. A light touch of lips, then as I slipped my tongue in, she slowly wrapped hers around mine.

As the kiss deepened, I gently moved my hand, caressing her body.

Over her breasts, down her waist, until my fingers reached that small, delicate slit.

"Grace, you're already wet."

"Haa… d-don't say such things…"

Even after we started dating, she always spoke to me in formal, respectful Korean.

Her shyness charmed me, so I teased her with faster strokes, my fingers circling her clit.

The more I touched her, the more flustered she became, her small hands brushing helplessly over my arms and chest.

"I'm going in now."

"Haa… wait… just a moment…"

She reached to the headboard, pulled out a condom, and handed it to me. At thirty-five, she still hesitated to have children.

I quickly rolled it on, laid her back, and guided my cock to her entrance.

Even after five years, her tightness made me push in slowly, inch by inch, until I was fully buried inside.

She let out a soft moan as I bottomed out.

I kissed her briefly, then gazed down at her naked body.

She had been a virgin when we married, and now, in her mid-thirties, her body was in its prime.

Around 160 cm tall, with full breasts and, most of all, the wide hips I adored—her body was made for holding.

"Haa… ah…"

With the first thrusts, she exhaled softly. She never raised her voice. Never asked for more. Never turned over, never gave me a blowjob.

The coldness she once wore before marriage had faded, but in bed, she remained conservative—almost restrained.

Frustrated by her silence, I drove deeper, pumping harder into her depths.

"Haa… too much… ah…!"

"Can you feel it? Deep inside you?"

"Don't… say such things… hnngh…"

Her words begged me to stop, but her body betrayed her—slick arousal oozed from within, coating my shaft. Instinct took over. I quickened my pace, thrusting faster.

"Sl… slower… please… ugh…"

I ignored her plea, slamming into her with renewed force, my cock swelling with need.

She turned her head slightly, bringing her hand to her mouth, muffling her moans.

The same as always. She accepted the pleasure her body received, yet suppressed every cry, every scream. She would never let herself lose control.

"Are you feeling it?"

"Hnngh… don't…!"

"You're not? Should I go harder?"

No sooner had I spoken than I pounded into her with brutal intensity. A dark desire stirred in me—to make this composed woman scream like a wild thing, to break her silence with raw, animal ecstasy.

"Too… too strong… ah… ahh…"

After a few more cries, she could barely speak. She clamped her hand over her mouth, whimpering into her palm, fighting to stay quiet.

Yet her toes curled in pleasure, her body betraying the very restraint she tried to uphold.

The room filled with wet, slapping sounds—the rhythmic clash of flesh on flesh.

Watching her, her face flushed, shaking her head in protest, I felt my climax approaching.

"Ugh… I'm close… I'm going to come."

"Mmm… hnnn… ahh…"

I clenched my anal muscles, gripped her hips, and drove into her one final time.

I moved only to thrust—deep, hard, relentless.

Obscene sounds echoed through the room.

Slap, slap. Squelch, squelch, slap.

"Ah… now… I'm coming."

In that moment, we embraced. I buried myself to the hilt and came hard inside her.

She trembled in my arms, her body convulsing—she must have come too.

"Ah… Grace…"

"Honey… mmm…"

We stayed locked together, kissing softly.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

My wife is neither passionate nor submissive in bed.

Tonight, once again, I failed to make her scream like a wild woman. But she always reassures me—this is who she is. That it's okay.

We're still happy. We still love each other.

It's fine… we're…

Yet, in the quiet aftermath, one question keeps surfacing in my mind, again and again.

Could another man make her cry out in pleasure?