Chapter 1 — The Beautiful Married Woman's Transgression

Sarah Park finished her shower and began packing for the trip.

Should I wear this? No… it looks too stiff...

This was probably the first time since her marriage that she’d traveled alone.

And while she had told her husband and the hospital she was going to Seoul for a “friend’s family celebration,” the real reason was different—she was finally meeting Sangnyum, the man she’d been chatting with online, exchanging calls, emails, and notes for weeks now.

Though it was only a short one-night, two-day trip, she didn’t want to delay even a second of what felt like pure, stolen freedom—an illicit rendezvous long overdue.

The warm spring sunlight dazzled her eyes. Truthfully, after years of shuttling only between home and the hospital, it had been ages since she’d looked up at the sky and truly seen the sun.

Spring was in the air—the clothes people wore, their light footsteps, the ease in their movements. Sarah Park adjusted her deep blue jacket and skirt suit, pairing it with an ivory blouse and a pale orange scarf. She checked her reflection in a store window.

Will Sangnyum like this look?

She boarded the train. Her seat was by the sunny window. Sarah Park hung her ivory trench coat and handbag on the overhead rack and sat down.

The train glided forward, and Sarah Park stretched her shoulders, whispering to herself, Finally… I’m really free.

In eleven years of marriage, she could barely remember having any real freedom. Except last winter—when she met a man from a chatroom. He’d called out of nowhere in the afternoon.

"I'm at XX. Can you come out?"

Can I make it back before my husband gets home?
Even as she worried, she went—like a woman under a spell.

"I don’t have much time. My child and husband..."

They shared coffee, then drove toward Gimhae. His hand slipped beneath her coat and skirt, creeping up her thigh. Starved for touch, her body slowly warmed. They pulled into a nearby motel.

"Ahh..."

Embarrassed and awkward, she covered her naked body with a small towel. After a quick shower, his hands pulled her onto the bed, and he entered her urgently.

She moaned as his hot semen splattered across her chest, regretting the orgasm she hadn’t quite reached—but there was no time. There simply wasn’t enough time.

Suddenly, Sarah Park realized she was sitting on the train with both knees tightly clenched, pressing her groin hard, her hand resting over it.

She glanced around—was anyone watching? Then stood quickly, pulling her trench coat over herself. Still, her mind drifted back to that day.

“It’s… embarrassing. This is the first time I’ve undressed in front of a stranger.”

He offered her beer. She drank half a can and finally managed to pull down her panties.

He waited on the bed, completely naked. After a brief shower, she stood beside it, wrapped in a towel, unsure what to do.

“Come here.”

Drawn by his voice, she dropped the towel and climbed in. He pulled her close, kissing her neck, then her lips. The kiss trailed down—her collarbone, her breasts, her stomach—then lower, to her most private place.

She spread her legs. Already soaked, she felt his tongue move insistently over her petals.

Later, he wiped his mouth—glistening with her wetness—and lay atop her. His cock pushed inside.

"Ahh… haaah…"

She didn’t think his body was particularly impressive, but the fact that it wasn’t her husband—that another man was on top of her—sent shivers through her entire being.

Even his smallest movement made her writhe. He gasped heavily.

"Ahh… n-now… I’m gonna… cum…"

"No… please… not inside…"

He pulled out just in time, flipped her onto her back, spread her legs, and came across her chest.

Hot semen spilled over her skin. He smeared it across her breasts with his fingers.

“You’re burning up. A real firecracker.”

He brought his semen-covered fingers to her lips. She sucked them clean. Her hand pressed hard against her skirt, crumpling the fabric. Hidden beneath the coat, she didn’t need to worry about others seeing—but still, she glanced around.

It was mid-morning, but most passengers were asleep. Only a few children played noisily. No one paid her any attention.

Quietly, she unhooked and unzipped her skirt, placing her hand over her panties.

A rustling sound came from the sanitary pad stuck inside. She wasn’t on her period, but knowing she’d be traveling alone—and might get aroused—she’d taped one in advance to avoid wet stains.

No one was looking, yet the mere act of touching herself in public sent electric thrills through her body.

She dipped her fingers into her soaked outer lips, coated them with moisture, and gently rubbed her clit.

"You're amazing. Your body… right here…"

The man had touched her petals, keeping her arousal alive.

"Turn over. I want you from behind."

She obeyed, lying face down. He stroked himself, trying to regain his erection.

She smiled at the sight. Soon, he grew hard again and moved toward her.

"W-wait… your semen might still be there… if something goes wrong…"

"Oh… right."

She pulled a condom from her handbag and handed it to him.

"Wow… prepared. You’re thorough."

He rolled it on, then positioned himself behind her. As her body opened, he pushed in.

"Ahh… such a beautiful body."

He gripped her hips and thrust fiercely. Her breasts swayed with each motion. Sweat trickled down her shoulder blades.

As her petals grew more sensitive, she lifted her head, tossing it side to side, moaning loudly.

"Ahh… haaa… huuuunn…"

Her hair clung to her damp back, strands scattering.

"Just… a little more… please…"

But his upper body collapsed onto her back.

"Haaah… s-sorry… I already…"

"Hahh… hahh… haaa…"

She opened her eyes to the rocking of her seat. Someone had sat beside her—a man in his forties.

Is my face flushed? Did he notice?

Before she could react, he spoke.

"Spring sun’s nice, but too long and you’ll burn. Your face is already red…"

Thankfully, he had no idea what was happening beneath her trench coat.

"Thank you," she replied softly.

She closed the shade, adjusted her posture, and sank once more into memory.

The man had removed the condom, turned it upside down over her face, and let the semen drip onto her cheeks.

"Ugh… gross…"

She grimaced but allowed him to smear it across her skin with his fingers.

Then he lay over her again, licking the semen from her face, caressing every inch of her body.

When his hand slid from her shoulders to her breasts and then to her petals, she grabbed his wrist.

"No… we have to be careful."

"Hmm…"

"Next time, when we’re better prepared… I’ll let you do anything…"

He led her to the bathroom. Adjusting the water temperature, he rinsed her body with his hands, washing away the traces of sex. Lathering soap, he ran his palms over every curve.

Her body began to heat again—but time was running out.

"Next time…"

The man beside her had fallen asleep. Sarah Park straightened her clothes, zipped and hooked her skirt. The train rolled on, indifferent, through the golden daylight.

What will Sangnyum be like?

The photo from his email was too blurry to form a clear image.

How strong will he be? Can he satisfy me?

Will he like what he sees?

How will we spend our time together?

What if my husband calls my friend’s house? How will I cover it up?

Lost in thought, she dozed off, savoring these fleeting moments of freedom.

The train arrived in Seoul. The man beside her had disappeared. Sarah Park grabbed her handbag, went to the restroom, fixed her hair and clothes, and reapplied her makeup.

Dark blue double-breasted suit, red tie, black bag—he said that’s what he’d wear.

She remembered their agreement as she passed through the gate. And she spotted him instantly.

Not because of his outfit—but because he was standing right where they’d agreed, visible the moment she stepped out.

"Sarah Park? It’s you?"

"Yes…"

“Let’s go.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere.”

She followed him without question. They took the subway, getting off at Yeongdeungpo Station.

“Did you wait long?”

“Not really. A little… but it was actually nice.”

On the subway, they’d said nothing, just stared at each other. Now, walking through the crowd, she finally spoke.

“Where are we going?”

“Got any preference?”

“...”

“It’s almost dinner. Let’s eat something light. Maybe drink?”

“Sure. To be honest, I’m starving.”

“What kind of food? Western? Korean?”

“I don’t care. Anywhere you like.”

They entered a galbi restaurant.

“You’re prettier than in the photos.”

“Oh, really? You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Haha… poking my side to get a compliment—feels good. Hehe.”

“No, seriously. I like what I see.”

They shared a bottle of soju with grilled meat, finishing both meal and drink, then left the restaurant.

“Remember we talked about karaoke last time?”

“Sorry about that. My kid kept crying—our call got cut off.”

“I wasn’t asking for an apology. Want to go now?”

“Karaoke? Sure. But can you sing?”

“I enjoy it, though I’m not great. How about you?”

“Me? Just average.”

They were given a private room—empty except for the two of them. Sarah Park removed her trench coat and blazer, hanging them on chairs, then sat opposite Sangnyum.

No extra lights, but the TV screen illuminated the room.

On screen, bikini-clad women danced on a beach.

“Nice bodies. How about yours, Sarah Park?”

Sangnyum’s eyes roamed over her.

“What do you think?” she asked shyly, covering her chest.

“Hmm… I’d know better if I held you.”

Music began. Sangnyum chose an old ballad and started singing. Sarah Park danced along, and he placed a hand on her shoulder, singing louder, more energetically.

“Wow, you’re good! You’ve done this before.”

She clapped, praising him. Then her turn came—a trendy new song, "Wa."

She grabbed the mic, shaking her head and hips passionately, belting out"Wa!" Sangnyum shook a tambourine beside her, matching her energy.

“Whoa—this isn’t some middle-aged lady. You’re totally Gen Z. Haha!”

“Stop teasing. I’m embarrassed…”

He draped an arm over her shoulder, his hand brushing her breast through the blouse. She placed her hand on his waist.

The instrumental break ended. Her"Wa!" continued into the second verse. They swayed together, voices rising, hips moving.

“Wait… I’ll be right back. Just one phone call.”

After finishing her song, Sarah Park stepped out. Sangnyum queued up several slow-tempo songs. Moments later, she returned with four cans of beer.

“You went out for this?”

“… bought beer and called a friend.”

“Friend? The one whose mother’s seventieth birthday you mentioned?”

“Mm… same friend, but not the seventieth birthday.”

“Oh? Then what?”

“I just used that excuse to come to Seoul.”

“Ah, so she’s your accomplice? Hahaha.”

The song Sangnyum had reserved began—slow blues, its intro setting a sultry mood.

He picked up a mic, handed her one, and pulled her close by the wrist. She took it and sat beside him.

Their eyes locked. His hand settled on her thigh.

As the music started, his palm lingered on her thigh, then slowly crept toward her knee—just below the hem of her skirt.

Instantly, she tensed her legs.

Meeting his soft gaze, she relaxed slightly. His hand began sliding higher, inching beneath her skirt, moving toward her groin.

Her bare thigh began to show. Their eyes stayed fixed on the exposed skin.

His hand paused beneath her skirt.

The fabric wasn’t loose—if she didn’t lift it herself, he couldn’t go further.

His eyes pleaded with hers. She gave a faint smile, lifted her hips, and pulled her skirt up herself.

His hand resumed its journey, growing warmer against her increasingly heated skin.

Soon, his fingers neared her panties. Sarah Park looked at him, then stood.

He rose with a disappointed expression.

From behind, he wrapped his arms around her.

One hand rested on her breast, the other on her lower abdomen.

He set the mic aside. Now only she sang.

She felt his breath on her neck, shivered, and kept singing.

She felt something firm press against her buttocks. She reached back, touching his cock through his pants.

He pulled back slightly—then pushed his hips forward, pressing himself into her palm.

Want to reach inside and touch me? he whispered.

Still singing, she nodded.

Unzip me. Put your hand in.

Her fingers obeyed. The zipper lowered. His underwear shifted. Her hand found his hard cock.

The song ended. The lights brightened. Scores flashed on screen.

Sangnyum didn’t adjust himself. He sat, leaving his cock half-exposed. Sarah Park climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs to hide it.

She showed courage—but her heart raced. Her throat dried.

She took a long sip of cold beer, then leaned her head on his shoulder.

The machine played the intro to another song, urging them to sing—but they trembled instead, caught in sweeter tension.

“Sarah Park…”

“...”

“Instead of hiding your skirt… want to hide me inside you?”

“Hahaha… later. I’ll do that when we leave.”

“When we leave, it’s just fun. But doing it now—that’s hiding, isn’t it?”

“… H-here?”

He repositioned her on his lap, pulling her skirt higher.

She felt his hardness directly against her bare thigh. His hand slipped under her skirt, brushing over her panties.

“I’ll take them off. Now.”

“But what if someone walks by?”

Outside, muffled shouts and off-key singing echoed from other rooms.

“Lift your hips. I’ll pull them down.”

“Really? You’re taking them off?”

“Of course.”

She lifted her hips, pulling his face toward her chest.

He pressed his cheek against her blouse, feeling her full breasts, then gripped the sides of her panties and tugged them down.

They slid to her knees. She lowered herself back onto his thighs, carefully guiding his cock toward her entrance.

“Kkheung… ah…”

As she settled, he pulled the panties completely off, shoved them into his pocket.

“Won’t your pants get ruined?”

“Don’t care.”

“This feels weird. Should I cover us with my coat?”

“Hmm… then people passing by might wonder even more.”

“...”

She realized he was right.

She adjusted her skirt, letting it fall high enough to cover her groin, then sat with her legs closed.

Lights brightened again—70 points for a song neither had sung.

Another track began. Sangnyum handed her the mic, then slid his hand under her skirt, tracing from her navel downward, stroking her smooth skin.

His fingertips brushed her soft pubic hair. She shivered, a full-body tremor.

He parted the curls, briefly touched her clit, then traced the spot where his cock met her warmth.

She spread her legs slightly, giving him space. He began alternating between her outer lips and clit.

Singing with the mic, she couldn’t help mixing moans into the lyrics. Finally, she turned it off.

“I… can’t. With the mic… the sounds…”

She rocked her hips, stimulating his cock, then placed her hand over his, joining in the touch.

"S-sangnyum… f-feels good… haaa… m-more…"

"Sarah Park… sing… sing for me."

"Ahh… how can I… sing like this…"

He switched the mic back on, held it to her lips.

The song was "You Are Far Away." The intro was nearly over. She rushed into the lyrics.

“You're not far away. You’re right here beside me.”

To keep pitch, she stilled her hips. The melody flowed steadily.

Then Sangnyum playfully intensified his touch on her clit and petals. Her voice wavered.

"But… ahh… haaa… you… a-a-are… f-far awaay…"

"K-keep going…"

"D-different room… listen…"

As his motions slowed, she resumed singing.

"I sent you away… ahh… ahh… you are…"

He gripped her hips, rocked her, kept stimulating her clit. Soon, moans burst from her.

"My b-body… haa… ahh… ahhh… y-you… haa… wh-where… huuunn."

The song ended. He withdrew his hand from under her skirt and clapped.

"Wow. No need for professional singers. You’d kill it as an erotic performer."

“Pfft. You’re such a troublemaker.”

The next song queued.

"Now it’s your turn."

"Oh? Excited? How will you tease me?"

“You’ll see…”

She stood from his lap, then guided him to sit near the window.

A large glass separated the room from the hallway—half tinted dark, so even tall passersby couldn’t see below the shoulders if seated close.

She smoothed her skirt, then knelt before him, taking his cock into her mouth.

The song began.

"My eyes fill with snow… since you left me…"

Her teasing started. Flicking her tongue over the tip, she sent electric jolts through him. He trembled, unable to form the lyrics.

"My eyes fill with… haaa… uuu… huuu… m-my… maha…"

She kept going. Gently biting the glans, licking the urethral slit.

"In the d-deep… haa… huuunn… ahh… t-tastesss… kkuuk."

She giggled quietly, unfastened his belt, then fully unzipped his fly.

“Lift your hips a little.”

She released his cock, spoke softly. He obeyed. She boldly pulled his pants and underwear down together.

"Vanishing into the deep water… white snow… fill my eyes…"

For a moment, the pause let him sing decently—but not for long.

She positioned him at the edge of the chair, then began licking from his balls down to his anus.

The chorus hit.

"M-my… haa… ahhhuuk… m-my… m-ya…"

As her tongue probed his anus, he convulsed, grabbing her hair, pulling her harder against him—more, more.

"Ahh… haaaaa… y-yes… g-good…"

When the song ended, she suggested:

"Shall we actually dance the blues?"

"Abso—"

"While you’re still inside me."

"But we won’t match height."

"Hahaha. That’s what makes it hard. Come on, stand up."

She stood first, pulled his hand.

She raised her skirt, exposing herself. He bent his knees, guiding his cock into her.

The music started. She stood on tiptoes; he crouched low. Their fused bodies swayed in an improvised blues.

Before the first verse ended, the awkward stance became uncomfortable. He lifted her hips. She spread her legs, wrapping them around his waist.

They broke apart momentarily. He lowered and raised her, reinserting himself.

She kept her legs locked around him, swaying her hips to stimulate her petals—but it wasn’t working.

Seeing her struggle, he set her near a chair. She propped one foot on it, grounding the other, adjusting her posture so he could move freely.

He matched the rhythm of the music, kissing her neck fiercely. She arched her head back, twisted her hips, moaning.

"Uhh… hoooo… ahhhaa… ahhk…"

Then—click—the door opened.

Sangnyum quickly pulled out, then swept her into a tight embrace, dancing as if they were truly performing the blues.

His thigh slid between her legs, into the space left by her raised skirt. She ground her petals against it.

A group of five or six passed by, glancing at the couple embracing. But the two ignored them, clinging tighter, dancing on.

Her arms wrapped around his waist. His hands roamed her shoulders and buttocks.

When the song ended, the lights brightened. Sarah Park lowered her head, blushing.

Sangnyum knelt before her, smoothing her skirt.

Because they’d danced pressed together, her skirt bore a faint stain of her juices—but she simply said it was fine.

“What about your panties?”

"... I like it like this."

He pulled them from his pocket, then stuffed them back in.

Once her clothes were neat, she fixed his. His pants were streaked—wet marks on the thigh and zipper.

After tidying him, they sat side by side again and shared a deep, lingering kiss.

“Stay with me tonight?”

“I… I’m sorry. Tonight’s a bit… My husband said he’d call my friend’s house. If I don’t answer… he’ll suspect.”

“Oh… I see. Then… can we stay together a little longer?”

“Yes. I want to go to a motel with you. The thrill here is exciting, but I want to show you everything… and see all of you. What do you say?”

“Let’s go.”

“For the hotter love we’ll share...”

Sarah Park picked up her half-finished can, raised it like a toast, swirled it in the air, gulped down a few swallows—then pulled Sangnyum’s head close, kissed him deeply, and poured the remaining beer from her mouth into his.