Chapter 2 — Swapping Lovers – Part 1 (2)

I got a call from Sarah Min a little while ago saying she was leaving work early.

She always tells me where she's going whenever she moves somewhere, but this time, when she said she was heading out, she didn't mention where.

Suddenly, my heart started pounding. I tried to say something casual, but in the end, I couldn't help myself—I asked.

After hesitating, Sarah Min reluctantly admitted she was meeting that guy she'd recently had sex with.

The call came right at six—probably their meeting time. They must be together right now.

Even though we'd had plenty of sex, and when we were together there wasn't much to do or say, the mere thought of Sarah Min meeting another man made my head spin. I couldn't focus on anything.

In the end, I came here—to this erotic story I've been writing about Sarah Min and me. I can't tell anyone else. My chest feels tight, my body burning up.

I'll write down my anxiety, my arousal, my jealousy, my filthy lust… maybe it'll calm me.

The man she's with now is an older colleague from her high school friend's company.

Ever since Sarah Min and I first met, she's told me about this guy hitting on her.

No matter how I looked at it, all that bastard wanted was sex.

Sarah Min found his advances creepy, and because she kept shutting him down so firmly, he'd kept his distance, biding his time like a predator waiting for an opening.

For the past two years, he'd relentlessly pursued her, but Sarah Min was deeply in love with me—so she'd only meet him once every three or four months, just for a quick meal.

But then, as I slowly started growing tired of her, as we began fighting more often and our passion faded…

I realized she'd been seeing that guy much more frequently.

Sarah Min never lies—she just avoids talking about things. So whenever I asked, she'd tell me almost everything.

But about two months ago, after meeting him for dinner, she completely shut down and refused to tell me what happened afterward.

Because of that, we fought every time we met for nearly a week—then didn't see each other at all for another week.

She tried to make up, but I coldly refused to meet her.

Truthfully, I felt a strange sense of freedom for the first time in a long while. I started reconnecting with old sex partners, filling the void Sarah Min left with anger and physical release.

Then one day, Sarah Min left work early.

I stayed late, ate dinner at the office, and didn't leave until four or five hours later—only to find her waiting outside my company, still hadn't eaten.

We went to a nearby motel and, for the first time in ages, silently embraced.

She burst into tears and finally told me what happened that day.

They'd met for drinks instead of dinner, using snacks to replace a meal.

She said she'd been deeply hurt by how I'd been treating her lately, so she drank more than usual.

Unlike other times, she accepted every drink he offered. Then, as soon as she started drinking freely, he got excited and kept ordering more.

They started at a restaurant with beer, but eventually moved to a dim, dark bar nearby, where they drank two full bottles of whiskey.

She suspected she'd fallen for his clever drinking trick—she might've even drunk more than he did.

Sarah Min isn't a heavy drinker, but she can hold her own—her limit is about one bottle of soju.

As she kept accepting his pours, her mind grew foggy.

He'd been hitting on her for years, but she'd always shut him down cold. That day, though, she didn't really feel like resisting.

Eventually, he moved from across the table to sit right beside her. He'd tried this before, but she'd snapped at him so harshly he never dared again.

But this time, seeing her dazed and vulnerable, he just plopped down beside her without asking, as if it were completely natural.

Then, hesitating at first, he started lightly tapping her shoulder, until finally resting his hand on it.

Sarah Min had allowed him to sit beside her, but she'd never let him touch her shoulder.

But she said his hand, resting on her shoulder, was trembling slightly.

Suddenly, that trembling made him seem so pitifully cute… so she just let it happen.

Two days ago… Sarah Min told me she had sex with that man.

Yesterday, neither of us mentioned it. We just passed the day in silence.

Today, I called her out to a café near her office and made her tell me everything.

When I heard she'd had sex, a violent surge of emotion—was it jealousy? Lust? I couldn't tell—overwhelmed me.

I immediately dragged her into the café's restroom, turned her around, made her grip the toilet, lifted her skirt,

pulled her pantyhose and panties down to her knees, and brutally fucked her from behind.

Back in the days when Sarah Min and I were burning with passion,

we'd done it everywhere—emergency stairwells, office restrooms, even in this very café's bathroom.

After the rough sex ended, we clung to each other, gasping for breath, silent.

Sarah Min was crying, silently. I didn't know how we'd come to this.

I honestly don't know what's real anymore.

I'd wanted to calmly write everything from the beginning, to savor it step by step—but I can't.

---

Let me briefly summarize what's happened so far.

I'll probably keep writing about Sarah Min and that friend's older colleague.

That night, they ended up kissing in the bar. After a long, deep kiss, they left together and went to a video room, where they did heavy petting.

When I pressed her for details, Sarah Min kept avoiding my questions. So I had to go through it all, step by step.

"Did that bastard touch your breasts?"

Nod, nod.

"Did he put his hand under your clothes?"

Nod, nod.

"So he sucked your nipples too?"

Nod, nod.

"What about you? What did you do?"

"...."

"Did you touch his dick?"

Nod, nod.

"Did you put your hand inside his pants?"

Shy, hesitant.

"And then?"

"He… pulled it out himself…"

"He? He?"

Until then, Sarah Min had always referred to him as "that guy" or "him." Now she was calling him by a term of endearment?

That single word made my blood boil.

"Did you do it?"

"No, I didn't."

"Then how far did you go?"

"..."

"Did you suck his dick?"

"..."

"Did you?"

"No… I just put it in my mouth… he kept pushing my head down there…"

"So you put it in your mouth?"

"I did… then I pulled away."

"Did that bastard touch your pussy too?"

"Why are you doing this? I don't want to talk anymore."

And again, she burst into tears.

After finally calming her down, I made a promise.

"You can meet anyone you want. It'll hurt, but I'll endure it. Just promise me one thing—tell me everything. Don't leave anything out."

Then she hugged me tightly and swore she'd never see another man again.

That night, we had sex—wild, intense, like we hadn't in ages. Truly unforgettable.

Both of us experienced pleasure we'd never felt before.

Sarah Min was so overwhelmed she bit my shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. Watching her climax like that,

I came violently—flooding her pussy, her stomach, her chest…

Then shot across her lips, smearing it all over her face with my hand.

I sucked every drop from her lips, her face drenched in my cum,

and we embraced again, clinging to each other with all their strength.

Sarah Min kept whispering "I love you" over and over.

---

After that, we had sex several more times, but in my mind, all I could see was that man sucking her breasts, licking her pussy…

The image of her trembling under his touch, gasping, sucking his cock—wouldn't fade.

No, it wasn't just that it wouldn't fade—it was that I needed to imagine it to get aroused. Only then did sex with Sarah Min feel truly exciting.

And judging by her reactions during sex, it seemed Sarah Min got even more turned on when she saw me jealous, angry.

In the end, I made my decision.

I would let her go.

I convinced her.

I told her the thought of her with someone else only made me want to hold her tighter.

And that she was still young—didn't she ever want to meet someone else?

At first, she got angry, called me crazy.

But when I said, fine—don't have sex, just go on blind dates, meet people, go on casual dates…

She fell silent. Then, after a long pause, she whispered, "Really? You're okay with that?"

She said when I wasn't around, she'd feel so lonely, so desperate to see me, she'd pick up the phone to call me dozens of times—but stop herself.

Then she'd think… maybe she should find another man to fill that time.

But then she'd feel guilty, like it was wrong to do that to me… so she'd stop.

So I told her, go ahead—just find someone to talk to, to date casually. But promise to tell me everything honestly.

And then, almost casually, I added—what if you kiss him? Or even have sex? Just tell me the truth.

Then maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty for not being able to give her all my time.

I convinced her with those words.

But deep inside… the truth was different.

In my heart, I was trembling with excitement at the fantasy—of Sarah Min falling into bed with one man after another, losing herself in sex, becoming a slut completely consumed by desire.