Chapter 1 — Lewd Whispers

I was David Choi’s senior by a wide margin—his older brother, no less, and by quite a few years.

Yet the way he handled my body was nothing short of masterful, and only now did I realize there was a limit to how long I could suppress the moans of ecstasy tearing at my throat.

A bachelor’s studio apartment felt like a long-forgotten world to me. Modern, yes, but still unmistakably a modest rental apartment room—cluttered, lived-in.

It reminded me of the room where I’d first been with my husband before we married.

A pile of unwashed laundry was shoved into one corner, and the sink overflowed with dirty dishes.

Eight years ago, I’d believed I’d matured sexually—grown beyond that girl. I was wrong.

After the second round of our sales team’s drinking session, I followed him to his place nearby, accepting his casual invitation for coffee. I knew what he wanted. I came anyway. This wasn’t rape.

But the way he tore at my clothes—rushed, almost violent—was close enough.

The moment we stepped through the door, there was no coffee, not even a glass of water. He lunged at me without hesitation.

The bra and panties I’d worn today would never be worn again.

After a brief, token resistance, I lay on his narrow single bed, legs spread wide, accepting him—and in that moment, I felt my body tremble with both resolve and anticipation.

Before entering, he rubbed the head of his cock against my wet entrance dozens of times, teasing, testing.

In the missionary position, I lifted my head slightly to look down—and gasped in shock.

Compared to my husband’s, David’s was more than twice as thick. Length aside, the sheer girth was terrifying.

When he finally pushed in, I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my teeth.

But the pain was less than I’d feared.

He knew what he was doing—patient, considerate, guiding himself in slowly to the hilt.

His pace was so agonizingly slow that I began lifting my hips, rocking my pelvis toward him, urging him deeper.

The sensation of a thick rod filling me was indescribable.

Once the back-and-forth began, I forgot all shame and gave myself to him completely. There was no holding back, no dignity.

My plan to play the elegant, mature woman—graceful even in sin—vanished into nothing.

The intention to simply gift a sweet night to a younger colleague had devolved into the raw, lustful behavior of a married woman in heat.

I wrapped my long legs—legs I myself admired when I put on stockings—around his waist.

I arched my hips sharply, matching his rhythm beat for beat.

I locked my ankles together, forming a knot, and wound my slender arms around his neck, ensnaring him with every limb.

Our kiss was far from sweet.

It was the desperate, ravenous movement of starved mouths.

I hadn’t kissed like this since the very beginning of my courtship with my husband—long forgotten, nearly extinct.

“Uhh… Sarah Lee senior. You’re responding so well. So damn good.”

His praise made me giddy and ashamed at once.

We knew instantly—we fit, physically, perfectly.

The age gap? In this world, it hardly mattered.

David’s movements grew stronger, more forceful. Each thrust—deep, shallow, relentless—drove me wild.

While my husband would’ve collapsed by now, David remained steady, confident.

With my legs hooked over his shoulders, he rowed into me, and I trusted him completely.

Then he claimed both my breasts with his hands.

When he rubbed my erect nipples with his thumbs, I finally spoke—words that were a kind of confession.

“Ahhhh… yes. I’ve had my eye on you, David. Did you know? I’m so happy… I love that you’re making me yours.
Ah! No, don’t stop—there! Touch me there more…”

My breasts, sensitive beyond belief, responded fiercely to his touch. My 38-inch bust—often a source of insecurity—felt proud today.

Because he clearly loved big breasts.

My husband, though he never said it, never really liked them. Other men did, but he? He preferred the delicate, girlish type.

The opposite of me—small-chested, flat-assed. That’s who caught his eye.

Sometimes I wondered—why did he marry me at all?

At 168cm tall, with full breasts and hips, I simply wasn’t his type. I only realized his true nature after we married.

I know. I know about the affair he’s having with Miss Kang, his secretary.

I’ve suspected it for about a year now. We haven’t had sex in months.

Perhaps that’s why I fell so easily into David’s seduction—why I gave myself to him like this.

Our Sales Division 2 has seven employees: five men handling operations, two women managing paperwork.

Under the perennial team leader, there’s one senior assistant, and three male staff of varying experience. David, 25, is the youngest—a handsome, well-educated man.

A total heartthrob, even drawing attention from women in other departments. His performance may still be modest, but his future is bright.

“Haha. Sarah Lee senior, let’s switch positions. Come on. You ride me. I’ll just lie here. Show me what you’ve got. I like women who are bold.”

I straddled him, unsure at first.

Looking down at him, he grinned, clearly expecting some technique from an older woman.

He laced his fingers behind his head, watching.

I squatted over him, gently lifting and lowering my hips. The sensation was entirely different.

With my husband, we’d fallen into routine—indifferent to small details. But now, every movement mattered.

I placed my hands on his chest, leaned down to kiss him, and moved my hips with fierce passion.

The low growl behind his clenched teeth told me he was thoroughly satisfied.

His hands gripped my ass tightly—so hard it felt like he might tear me in half.

His cock, thrusting deep into my pussy, quickened its pace, and I matched him, grinding wildly. The bed creaked incessantly.

“I… I love you, David. Ahhh! I’ve never gone crazy like this before. Come… come inside me. Don’t stop. Huh… uuuuuh, y-yes, y-yes, good…”

“Uuuh… Sarah Lee senior, just a little higher with your hips… uuuuh… here I go. One… two… thr—eeee! Uuuuugh!”

The climax lifted me toward the sky. I collapsed into his arms. Tears of joy blurred his face.

But some of my tears were mixed with fear and guilt. They didn’t stop easily.

I sobbed quietly, then fell asleep in his arms. I was grateful he didn’t try to comfort me. Even if I could turn back time, this was bound to happen soon.

Besides, David looked exactly like my first love—buried deep in the past.

A love unspoken, unconsummated, perhaps never even realized by the other.

When I woke, I was still tightly held in his arms. Not much time had passed. I lifted my head slightly—he was watching me.

“You’re awake, Sarah Lee senior? You slept so cutely, like a baby.”

His bright smile made me return it warmly. He was a good man. Not the type to pressure me later, to make this awkward.

Even if curiosity about older women had driven him, I didn’t blame him.

“Were you disappointed? I was afraid I was the only one enjoying it. Wait—what’s this?”

The last question was unnecessary. His re-erected cock pressed firmly against my lower abdomen, demanding another round.

I blushed deeply, then slowly reached down to touch it.

I never thought holding another man’s cock—so firm, so thick—could make me this shy. It was the first time I’d touched a man’s besides my husband’s.

The side-lying position felt awkward, so I sat up.

As I explored his shape with both hands, I grew more and more enchanted. Unlike my husband, he wasn’t circumcised.

When I pulled the foreskin back firmly, the head disappeared beneath it.

I played with my new toy, fascinated, until I felt his hands on my breasts again.

He moved slowly from one to the other, flicking my nipples. It was an electrifying caress, pleasure racing through my body.

Nothing like my husband’s indifferent touches. He occasionally squeezed my full, perky breasts hard.

“Could you… do it with your mouth? If you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

“I want to taste you. Is that okay?”

We spoke at the same time, then burst into laughter.

It was a bold suggestion—but after laughing, my tension eased, and courage rose. Slowly, I lowered my head toward him.

At first, I couldn’t take it in. I extended my tongue, licking slowly along the shaft.

There was still some residue from earlier, which made me hesitate—but after a moment, I realized it didn’t disgust me. I moved even slower.

I cradled his balls beneath, licking them too.

I rolled each testicle gently, tracing my tongue all the way up to his inner thighs.

He sat up slightly, watching me serve him between his legs.

Occasionally, he reached out to brush my bangs from my face.

One of my hands never left his shaft. Sometimes I used both, stroking him.

Finally, I opened my mouth and took him in. I felt an overwhelming happiness.

I paused briefly as the tip hit the back of my throat, but quickly began moving my head faster.

David gasped, his breath ragged, his body trembling.

As I grew bolder, I sucked more skillfully, swallowing deeper, wrapping my tongue around the shaft inside my mouth.

My pussy, of course, grew wet again—soaked.

I had no choice but to slide one hand down to soothe myself.

I rubbed the rapidly heating flesh, spreading my labia, touching each inner petal one by one.

I was aroused beyond control.

He noticed quickly and gently laid me back.

His cock, glistening with my saliva, rose tall. He pressed the head against my drenched entrance, rubbing slowly.

When he touched my clit, I opened myself with both thumbs.

Too embarrassed to look at his face, I turned my head and whispered.

“Put it in… now. I can’t wait anymore. Uhhnn… haaah!”

Unlike the first time, he thrust in all the way to the root in one stroke.

He leaned down and kissed me—this time, a soft, deep kiss, our tongues intertwining.

Our lower bodies stayed locked, circling endlessly.

He was broad, a little heavy, but I lifted my hips to meet his desire.

Again, I raised my legs high, wrapping them around his waist.

The pace was slow, but the pleasure transcended imagination. Afraid of crying out too loudly, I bit down on his shoulder.

The scratches I left on his back grew deeper. Only when my vision blurred completely did I beg him to stop.

I hadn’t moved much, but I was exhausted. I’d poured every ounce of strength into clinging to him.

Later, we repeated the same sequence—again and again—until we climaxed together.

Afterward, I was too ashamed to look him in the face.

Finally, I whispered, “Come in my mouth. I want to taste you. Please.”

He agreed instantly, pulling out just before climax, guiding himself into my mouth. With one hand, he reached between my trembling thighs.

Of course, his fingers began moving fast inside me. Moments later, I tasted the thick, warm flood of his release.

And afterward, I slowly sucked each of his fingers, still slick with my own juices.

I refused his suggestion to clean up. I pulled on my ruined underwear—now little more than rags—and went home.

Thankfully, my husband hadn’t returned. I filled the tub with hot water and washed my body.

During the long bath, my hand kept slipping between my thighs, tracing David’s traces.

I’d see him tomorrow—but the wait already felt unbearable.

We hadn’t made any promises.

But I had a strong feeling—he’d come for me again. Soon.

I stuffed my ruined underwear into a trash bag, careful not to let my husband see.

Then I put on the new lingerie I’d picked out—something daring, seductive. From now on, I wouldn’t wear cheap underwear to the office.

Who knew when the next chance might come?