Chapter 1 — My First Intimate Night with My Wife - 1 (1)

"And I saw Tantalus too, standing in a pool of water, suffering terribly. The water reached up to his chin. Yet no matter how desperately he tried to drink, he could not. For whenever the old man quickly bent down in thirst, the water would recede, sucked downward, leaving only black mud beneath his feet."

— From The Odyssey, when Odysseus visits the underworld —

My wife and I were fourth-year and third-year students at university.

She was two years younger than me, and after a year of persistent pursuit—drawn in by her striking beauty—we became lovers in the spring of her second-year year.

And our relationship progressed far faster than I had expected. Within just four months, we had become intimately entwined, exploring the deepest parts of each other's bodies.

Truthfully, my wife wasn't tall or slender. She stood about 165 cm and weighed around 55 kg—just an average build.

But she had long, lustrous black hair, large eyes with faint double eyelids, and cheeks that were plump—very plump. After giving birth to our daughter, they'd grown even fuller.

Yet all these features came together in perfect harmony, making her undeniably beautiful.

And those faint double eyelids—on the day I first kissed her, they were what made me unable to let her go without pressing my lips to hers.

We became intimate purely by chance, just four months after becoming a couple.

It happened at my one-room apartment.

I was a fourth-year student, deep in the middle of graduation preparations, when she showed up with her classmates—my third-year students—arms full of beer.

Let me use a pseudonym. From now on, I'll call my wife Grace Park. Grace Park, Emma Jin, Daniel Sung, and Thomas Daeseok had all come rushing over.

They claimed they were there to cheer up their hardworking fourth-year student, but their flushed faces—despite the early summer weather—made it obvious they'd already been drinking together before arriving.

Among the five, Daniel Sung was someone who had feelings for Grace Park even before I started dating her.

So perhaps he'd come along hoping to vent his frustration over losing her, using me as an excuse to drink.

Grace Park stood quietly behind the others, her face slightly flushed—(?), a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, as the third-year students noisily pushed their way into my cramped room, shouting, "Fourth-year student, we're here!"

Not that I cared about their reasons—I wasn't about to turn down free beer. I shut my books and joined them in less than five minutes.

"Drink up, drink up!" We passed bottles around, played the usual drinking games that inevitably surface at any gathering.

We kept drinking for nearly two hours.

One by one, the others began stumbling to the bathroom. Then one of them collapsed in a corner of the room and fell asleep.

That was the turning point. Without realizing it, the only two left sitting at the drinking circle were Grace Park and me.

My tiny room was now occupied by three passed-out third-year students, so even sitting across from each other with the table between us felt awkward and uncomfortably close.

"Should we go?" I asked.

Grace Park nodded.

We'd been dating for nearly four months, but due to her somewhat reserved nature, our relationship hadn't progressed much physically.

The most I'd dared was holding her tightly on cold days—my only form of physical contact.

And even that was something I could only do at night, never during the day. It happened only when I walked her home.

But even that small gesture made my heart race, and I'd often find myself humming softly on my way back, giddy with joy.

I quietly cleaned up the mess, careful not to wake the sleeping third-year students. I couldn't leave Grace Park to sleep in that uncomfortable mess, so I decided to walk her back to her women's boarding house.

It was about a twenty-minute walk from my place.

The night air, just past midnight, was slightly chilly, pressing us closer together.

Grace Park, perhaps because of the warm sun during the day, wore only a thin short-sleeve knit top.

I held her tightly, savoring twenty minutes of quiet happiness.

The lightness of her summer clothes, compared to the thick winter coats I was used to, made her feel even more nestled against me.

Her plump, flushed cheeks, now so close to my face, made my lips go dry with desire.

I wanted to bite them. If I couldn't do that, I at least wanted to kiss them gently. But I held back.

I even worried she might sense my thoughts and grew cautious.

Those twenty minutes passed far too quickly.

At the gate of her women's boarding house, Grace Park quietly turned to face me.

And she smiled.

That was the moment.

Suddenly, a scene from a movie flashed through my mind—slow, dreamlike. I barely had time to register that it was an image of a man embracing the woman he loved and kissing her—before my lips were already touching hers.

Our lips were touching, yet it felt like it took an eternity to understand what was happening.

In reality, it was only a few seconds, but it felt infinitely longer.

Had I pulled her in, or had she leaned into me? The answer was obvious—I had embraced her. Without even realizing it.

Her hands still rested quietly at her sides, fingers lightly gripping the seams of her pants.

Maybe she was startled. Maybe she was holding on.

I stood there, torn—should I be satisfied with this and leave, or should I take the next step?

I chose the latter.

Gently parting my still-pressed lips, I brought my tongue forward, pressing it against her lips.

I don't know why I thought to use my tongue—maybe instinct—but I decided to hold back for now. Instead, I took her hands, which still hung at her sides, and guided them to my waist.

If she had pulled her hands away then, I would have stopped.

But she didn't.

Her hands stayed on my waist, and when I pulled her into me again, I felt a new strength in her grip—different from before.

This time, my tongue slipped between her lips.

It entered, but couldn't tangle with hers.

Her tongue retreated, evading mine.

Just like her personality, her kiss was hesitant, passive.

I strained with all my will to excite her.

Is it some kind of male duty, I wondered, to try to arouse a woman once things reaches this point?

Perhaps it's so we don't feel guilty about our own pleasure unless she shares it too.

I gently withdrew my tongue and softly caressed her lips.

Then I began stimulating the space between her lips and gums, teasing back and forth.

I felt her entire body grow warmer. The heat radiating from her mouth, from inside her, was unmistakable.

Then something I hadn't expected happened.

Grace Park leaned even closer, pressing her lower mound against my already swollen groin.

Whether because of our height difference or not, she didn't hit the exact spot, but the pressure was unmistakable.

At the same time, a soft moan escaped from her lips.

Gathering courage, I pulled her tighter against my chest, feeling the soft weight of her breasts.

I couldn't tell if the heat pulsing from below came from my own arousal or from her mound, but the sensation—coming from both above and below—sent shivers through my body, making my hair stand on end.

When I pulled back from the kiss, our lower bodies remained pressed together.

I looked into Grace Park's wide eyes—and like someone under a spell, I kissed her again, helplessly.

"I love you."

"........."

"I'll go now."

"...oppa."

"Hmm?"

"There are too many people at home. It's uncomfortable to sleep."

"........"

"Do you want to stay at my place tonight?"

"......"

It was a moment of intense hesitation.

Should I turn around now, remain noble, and not cross the line? Or should I go in with her, hoping for something more?

"What about Alice Mijeong?"

"Hmm. She said she had plans and was staying at a classmate's place tonight."

"R-right?"

Through this awkward exchange, we silently confirmed our intentions.

And so, we entered Grace Park's one-room apartment together.

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