Chapter 1 — My Second Encounter with the Goose Mom

Since that Thursday evening, we'd briefly seen each other on Sunday—but only exchanged glances, deliberately avoiding greetings or words.

We each stayed wrapped in conversations with others nearby, then returned home in silence.

No calls. No texts—not even a message. (Koreans living in America rarely text anyway.)

Would she reach out? What had she been thinking all this time? My mind churned with questions, my chest tight with unease.

But after seeing her that day, the suffocating weight in my chest eased, just a little.

Still, as a man, I felt I should be the one to make the first move. So yesterday morning, while my wife took our daughter to school, I called her.

"Hello. It's me."

"Hi."

"Annie already at school?"

(I already knew she'd gone earlier for band practice, an hour before my daughter, but I asked anyway.)

"Yes."

"I need to stop by before work. We should talk."

"Okay..."

As I entered the parking lot of her apartment building, a strange sensation washed over me—like it had been ages since I'd last been here.

For the first time, I wondered if other Koreans living in the same complex might see me. I'd never cared before.

When I reached her door, it opened immediately.

She must have been waiting.

We exchanged awkward greetings and sat on the loveseat in the living room.

The sofa… Why did looking at that sofa make Thursday night feel like it happened years ago?

I'd rehearsed countless things to say, preparing myself over and over. But now, sitting across from her, I had nothing. Instead, a strange excitement began to throb in my chest.

She brought drinks from the kitchen and sat on the sofa.

"I'm sorry," I said."I don't even know what to say. I'm sorry, Annie Kim."

"No, it's okay. I don't know what to say either."

"I really am sorry."

"When I saw your wife yesterday—my sister-in-law—I felt so guilty."

"I know. I know. It's all my fault."

I'd never seen her without makeup before. She looked even prettier than usual.

"I feel the same way," she murmured.

I moved beside her, and without thinking, pulled her into a tight embrace.

Her hair, her body—faintly scented with shampoo, or maybe body lotion. The freshness of it overwhelmed me.

She didn't push me away.

"No..." she whispered weakly.

I silenced her lips with mine.

We kissed deeply.

Even inside her mouth, the scent was sweet.

My cock was already hardening.

Kissing without breaking, sucking her tongue fiercely, encouraged by the way she occasionally sucked mine back gently, I slipped my hand under her blouse, past her bra, and caressed her breasts.

Her breasts were larger than I'd imagined. Her nipples already stiff.

Still kissing, I pulled my hand from her bra and slid it under her skirt.

I caressed the inside of her thighs and ass for a while, then mustered the courage to reach into her panties.

But she caught my hand.

I froze.

(So this is it. She's stopping me.) The thought flashed through my mind. Instantly, I felt deflated, ashamed, unsure what to do.

But then she said,

"Let's go to the bedroom."

I almost doubted my ears. She took my hand and led me toward her bedroom.

Ah… Such an electrifying moment.

Her bedroom—where all her secrets were kept. I glanced at the three or four photo frames on her dresser: pictures of her husband, family snapshots. Guilt flickered inside me, but I couldn't resist the sheer, overwhelming excitement.

I slowly undressed her as she stood shyly beside the bed—first her blouse, then her bra.

I'd touched her breasts on Thursday, and again just now, but this was the first time seeing them fully, face-on.

They were indeed larger than I'd thought. Slightly drooping.

She always looked so thin in clothes, but now, undressing her, I realized she was quite plump. Her lower belly, too.

Clothes really are wings for women, I thought. Worried she might feel too embarrassed naked, I quickly stripped off my own clothes.

Then I pulled down her skirt and panties, baring her completely, and took a moment to savor her naked body.

Her pubic hair was thicker than my wife's.

I pulled her close, standing, and kissed her softly on the lips, my hand on her pussy, guiding hers to my cock.

I could feel it through her fingertips—her pussy already moist, perfectly ready.

I fought the urge to plunge in immediately. Instead, I laid her on the bed, kept touching her pussy with one hand, and began sucking her deep red nipples.

"Ah..."

She started moaning.

With fingers inside her, I matched the rhythm of her hips. Then I pulled my hand away from her pussy, moved from her breasts down between her legs, and buried my face.

Wow.

There it was—her dark red labia, fully exposed.

(They say the more sex or masturbation, the darker they get.) I thought as I spread her open with both hands.

Her slick, glistening hole came into view.

I moved my tongue gently from her opening up to her clit.

"Uuugh..."

Her cry was closer to a scream. I went wild—licking furiously, sucking, biting—just like I'd read and imagined in erotic stories. I devoured her pussy.

The sweet scent—was it soap or lotion?—mixed with the tangy taste of her fluids.

How long did I eat her? Until she couldn't take it anymore, grabbing my head, writhing her body.

Only then did I stop.

Her whole body jerked rhythmically, riding the waves of orgasm.

A moment later, when the pain or pleasure subsided, she slowly turned away from me, lying on her side.

I lay down beside her, turned her body toward me, and guided her head down to my crotch.

Soon…

"Ah~~~"

She began sucking my cock, already so hard it felt like it might burst.

Holding the base with one hand, she sucked as if taking revenge for my earlier assault. How fiercely she sucked!

I felt the urge to cum.

But then—(No, not like this. This is our first real time together. I can't cum in her mouth.)—I pulled her head away from my cock and laid her down.

She shyly turned her face aside, unable to meet my eyes.

I spread her legs and finally entered her—fully, officially.

I was desperate, but I held back. Using the tip of my cock, I gently rubbed from her entrance up to her clit a few times before slowly pushing in.

Unlike Thursday, I watched her closely, carefully, tenderly.

She covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to let out shameful moans.

Her oral service had made me cum faster than expected.

Before I came,

"Can I come inside?"

"Yes. It's okay."

Relieved, I thrust hard, pressing my body fully onto hers as I climaxed.

A moan burst from my lips without control.

"Uuuaaah~"

I exploded deep inside her with a scream, pouring every last drop as if squeezing the last bit from an empty toothpaste tube.

Immediately after, just like last time, I was hit by that ugly, dirty feeling—hard to describe, but hollow, regretful, self-loathing.

Then I remembered what someone once told me:

"Whatever happens from now on, she's just a lonely woman living alone. Always treat her gently."

So, before that feeling could settle, I pulled her into my arms, still lying down, and kissed her deeply.

Miraculously, that dirty sensation vanished.

We lay entwined like that for a while. Then, realizing my heavy body must be uncomfortable for her, I rolled to the side.

(I should say something. But this was our first official time together—shouldn't I say something memorable?)

"Was I heavy?"

(What? Are you kidding me?!) That's all I could come up with? Even now, I cringe at how pathetic I sound. hahaha

"No," she said.

Then she got up and walked to the bathroom. I heard water, the sound of her washing.

I thought she was cleaning herself first, so I debated whether to get dressed or wait to shower after she came out.

But then she returned with a small towel dampened with warm water and began gently wiping my cock.

Wow. Pure emotion. My wife had never done this in all our years together.

Starting from the base, she carefully cleaned the shaft and head, handling it with such tenderness.

I felt myself hardening again.

(I'm not well-endowed, and my stamina isn't strong.

I sleep with my wife two or three times a week, and only masturbate when I'm really turned on by something.

With my wife, it's always one round and done.)

I snatched the towel from her hands as she knelt over me, tossed it under the bed, and guided her face back to my cock.

She hesitated, surprised.

"Suck it… please."

At my request, she quickly lowered herself and started again.

After a while, fully erect, I pulled her up and sat her on top of me.

She aligned my cock with her pussy and slowly lowered herself.

"Ah~~~"

Was that a moan or a cry? Her fluids seemed drier than before—was she in pain?

"Does it hurt?"

"No… it's too good."

Hearing that, I felt incredible. Truly content. She said it felt good.

"Ah… ah… ah…"

She rode me wildly, lost in ecstasy, then collapsed beside me, trembling.

I waited a bit for her to catch her breath, then moved behind her and entered again, starting to thrust.

I wanted to cum quickly.

But strangely, though I felt the urge, I couldn't quite reach climax. Maybe because it was the second time.

I changed positions—turned her onto her side and tried entering her from behind.

But my cock had lost some strength, and it was hard to get in.

Thankfully, she reached down and guided me in with her hand, barely managing to re-enter.

Even with a half-limp cock, I thrust as hard as I could.

The more I tried to cum, the less I could. Damn it. I felt it coming—so why wouldn't it explode?

How long did I go on? Finally giving up, I pulled out and collapsed beside her.

"Didn't come?"

"Seems like it all came out earlier…"

She climbed on top of me, embarrassed by my answer, and immediately took my cock into her mouth, sucking hard.

Harder, faster, stronger than before.

"Ah~~~"

I felt like my cock would be pulled right out.

"Ah~~~"

Sudden pleasure bordering on pain surged from my cock to my head. My vision went black, then burst with stars.

The amount of cum was less than the first time, but the orgasmic pleasure was so intense that my whole body jerked in rhythm with the release.

She swallowed every drop, gulping loudly.

I always try my hardest to empty every last drop when I cum.

Maybe she sensed that—because even after I came, she kept sucking. It was pure suction.

How grateful I felt… how deeply satisfied…

I saw the fine lines around her eyes and mouth, but in that moment, they looked beautiful.

I pulled her down beside me and held her tightly.

She seemed content too, smiling as she looked straight into my eyes.

"What time is it? I need to go to work. Aren't I late? I'll get fired. Haha. Quick, take a quick shower in the bathroom."

I should call the office first.

I put a finger to my lips, signaling quiet, and called my company.

I told them I was delayed with outside work and would come in around lunch.

While I showered, she had already dressed, prepared a cool drink, and was waiting for me in the living room.

We didn't have the conversation we really needed to have. Instead, we exchanged small talk—nothing important.

One thing I remember: she mentioned that in two and a half weeks, winter break would start. (In America, winter vacation lasts about two to three weeks.)

This year, the Korean won had dropped in value, and it had been a long time since she'd seen her family in Korea. So her husband wouldn't come to the U.S.—she and her daughter would stay in Korea through the Lunar New Year and return together.

Before I left, I asked,"Are there many Koreans in this apartment?"

"Not in our building. A few families around, but we don't greet each other or even know one another."

I felt a bit of relief. Then I walked out of her place, heading to work—just like her husband would.

On the freeway, I thought:

What am I doing?

Is this how an affair begins?

Does this mean I now have a so-called sex partner?