Chapter 1 — The Housewife Who Writes Erotica

"Are we going to have sex?"

That's what I asked my husband when he briefly came home during the day. He quit his job last month and has been dabbling in odd jobs, mostly at night these days, so he only drops by the house in the afternoon.

I was sitting on the toilet in the bathroom, glancing sideways at him as he passed through the living room.

"I'm kind of tired. Let's do it another time."

"I might start my period tomorrow… which means you'll have to go without for a few days. If you're okay with that, fine. Otherwise, do whatever you want."

My pouting lips felt childish, but I couldn't understand why my heart had grown so bitter lately.

Yeah, my husband must be tired too. He still has to work—can't waste his energy. Hehe…

I quickly finished sorting the clothes I'd hand-washed in the bathroom and carried them to the back balcony to toss into the washing machine.

"Want some coffee? Or maybe dandelion tea?"

"Nah… never mind. I'll just go to sleep."

He collapsed onto the bed like he was melting into it. I gently pulled a thin blanket over him and quietly closed the bedroom door.

Sitting at the dining table, I sipped my now-lukewarm coffee, dazed by the soft afternoon sunlight spilling in from the front balcony. Suddenly, my phone vibrating in the corner of the couch startled me.

Who could it be? I answered—it was the man I'd met a few days ago. Hehe. Not my lover, just a… friend.

"Yeah. Who is it?"

My nasal voice sent a shiver down my spine, slick and strange.

"Oh! You're in front of my building? No, you can't come up… My husband's home today. Come tomorrow. Actually, I'll call you. Yeah…"

I hung up quickly, but something felt off. I rushed to the balcony and looked out—there he was, standing at the entrance of the opposite villa.

He must've noticed me watching, because he waved. An inviting gesture. His smile flashed, seductive and knowing, and suddenly the memory of kissing him in his car surged through me, setting my body on fire.

I tiptoed toward the master bedroom where my husband was sleeping, carefully opening the door. He was sprawled across the bed, snoring deeply, utterly worn out.

Fine. I'll just see him for a moment in the kids' room. Besides, what are the chances we'd get caught?

I sent a quiet text: Come up. Second floor. Be quiet.

I'd already unlocked the front door and left it slightly ajar. When it creaked open with a soft hiss, like air escaping…

Huh. His face lit up like a boy's. He was in his early forties—said he was in the neighborhood for work and just wanted to see me. Of course, he's married with two kids. But said he liked me—specifically, the fact that I write erotic stories. And I figured, since we both enjoy it, why not keep things easy?

"Come in."

My whisper sounded like the secret pact of mischievous children.

We slipped into the kids' room. I closed and locked the door, turning around just in time to be pulled against him, my back pressed to the edge of my daughter's desk. Our mouths crashed together, tongues diving deep, tasting each other's saliva like it was melting honey.

My tongue met his eagerly.

His hands gripped my ass, pulling me hard against him. I gave in, clinging to him, my skirt already lifting—until I briefly stopped him.

"I'll take it off. Wait…"

Our lips stayed locked as I quickly pulled my panties down.

I dropped my skirt too, then leaned back onto the desk. The cold glass sent a brief shock through my arousal. A moment later, I grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk, gently dabbing at my wet, swollen folds, trying to calm the heat pulsing inside.

He stood there, pants and underwear half-lowered, bunched around his thighs. For a second, he looked utterly ridiculous.

Then I saw his cock. Thick, blunt at the tip, like a log soldiers carry to break down a gate. I felt a flicker of fear.

"Isn't this too fast? I only meant to kiss and send you off… If we go all the way, I might scream. What then? Do you want to go alone? I'm turned on, but my voice… it gets loud. Huh…"

When did it happen? His cock was already buried deep inside me.

His hips thrust forward, grinding slowly, pushing deeper with each roll. The thick shaft pressed against my inner walls, forcing them open, sliding in deeper, deeper—his pubic hair pressing in with it.

"It hurts. Too much… Your hair… it's hurting me."

Before I could finish, his hands gripped my ass tighter, pulling me even deeper onto him—hungry, determined.

"You really like me, don't you? Tell me. Do you really?"

I could feel every inch of him, filling me completely. My insides welcomed him, as if they'd been waiting. This was what people called good internal chemistry. Hehe…

On the wall across from us, my daughter's middle school graduation photo stared at me. She was smiling. It felt like she was saying, Mom, I love you.

I glanced away, meeting the man's eyes.

They were closed. His mouth hung open, breath ragged—pure, raw desire pouring out of him.

Fine. If he came all this way because he wants me this badly… I might as well enjoy it.

The thick, throbbing cock inside me writhed, slick and oiled, and I couldn't stop the moans spilling from my lips.

He buried his face in my breasts, tearing at my bra until it fell loose. At the sight of me exposed, his climax surged—he pulled me violently against him, drunk on the scent of my skin.

My breath grew ragged, my cries rising higher, urging him on faster. Huh… I gasped, my nails raking down his back, clawing at his shirt like I wanted to tear it apart.

As his breathing thickened and the room grew hotter, I cried out—loud, broken, like I was sobbing.

His thrusts grew longer, deeper, overwhelming me with pleasure.

His lips crashed over mine, silencing my twisted face, sealing my open mouth with his. Was it the sweetness of our saliva? Or the secret thrill of forbidden sex? Either way, the taste lingered, deeper and longer than ever.

"Thrust… Ah…"

His hips drove forward, harder, longer, until he came—deep, pulsing, endless.

His hot, burning cum flooded my pussy. My clenched walls refused to let go, my tense hips chasing his final pulses, milking every last drop.

I grabbed a few tissues—then a few more. Even as I wiped, his cum oozed out, thick and warm, spilling from my reddened, swollen folds.

Still throbbing with arousal, I roughly wiped his glistening cock with a tissue.

He lifted it in one hand, long and spent, resting heavily on my palm, still twitching, catching its breath like a tired animal.