Chapter 1 — The Lustful Wife's Desire

I was living a life I found dull and monotonous.

After my husband left for work, I had nothing to do. Once I finished cleaning our small apartment, the only things left were going to a café near the station for a cup of tea or wandering into the nearby department store to buy something I didn't really need.

I'm still young. People often tell me I'm attractive. So when I lingered around department stores, young men would sometimes approach me.

“Ma'am, if you're free, would you like to share a coffee?”

I thought about refusing—but then again, walking around the store alone wouldn't pass the time much better. I might end up making impulsive purchases, and sitting in a café by myself felt awkward and lonely. So I answered, “Just for a little while…”

And so I followed this stranger into a café near the department store.

As we walked, I studied him more closely and realized he was quite handsome.

But the café itself was unusual.

Each booth was a separate, enclosed box with a door. Once you stepped inside and closed it, the space became a completely private room. There was a sofa, a small table, and a single lit lamp. Even in daylight, it was dim—like being deep underwater, submerged in quiet intimacy.

“This place feels different.”

“Yes, but it's peaceful. Bright cafés are noisy and stressful.”

Now that he said it, I could see the appeal. Besides, I was an adult. I was a married woman. I didn't need to act like some inexperienced girl, resisting and screaming—it would be embarrassing. Though these days, young women were bolder than ever.

So we sat side by side on the soft, shadowed sofa and sipped our coffee.

There was a strange thrill in the air.

A sudden thought flashed through my mind—could this café be used as a substitute for love hotels? I remembered reading about such places in women's weekly magazines.

My heart began to race. I couldn't sit still.

“You're very attractive, ma'am.”

“Thank you.”

“You're wearing a wedding ring. Do you work, too?”

“No. I stay at home.”

“What a waste. A woman as attractive as you would be welcomed anywhere.”

Hearing him say that, a thought flickered in my mind—not just flattery. This man meant something more.

Yes, that's right. I don't have children. I'm still young. Maybe I should work while I can. That way, I wouldn't waste money on pointless shopping, or end up in a café with a passing stranger out of sheer boredom. Of course, the workplace has its own temptations. But perhaps a little temptation is what keeps life exciting, what keeps you feeling young.

Maybe my husband would even be happy about it. I'd seen so many women—charming when single—lose their spark after marriage, becoming careless about their appearance, dressing sloppily. Once children come, it only gets worse.

I'd probably end up the same someday. But it was too early for that.

Yes. Maybe I should go back to work. Could my old company take me back? Even part-time, even temporary. But first, I'd have to convince my husband.

Lost in thought, I didn't notice his hand slowly inching closer to mine.

“Beautiful hands,” he suddenly said, and grabbed mine.

They were slender, delicate, the skin soft. Every morning, these hands gripped my husband's most intimate part, teasing him just enough to get him in the mood for work.

“No, they're not.”

“Yes, your skin is so smooth.”

His hand moved to my knee, then slowly slid up, lifting the hem of my skirt.

My thighs were exposed.

I made a half-hearted motion to push his hand away—but even I could see how elegant my legs looked in the dim light.

Then, from the next booth, I heard a woman's soft sigh.

“Mmm… you little tease…”

Another sigh followed. The rhythm quickened. Whispering. Then a man's voice. Silence.

“Ahh…”

“Please… put it in. Now.”

A desperate plea from the next cubicle.

My heart pounded.

Just then, the man beside me leaned even closer, placing his hand over mine.

I flinched—but a current surged through my body. From the next booth, I heard the woman gasping.

“Ah… no more… please stop. I can't…”

I shuddered. My chest throbbed wildly.

What were they doing in there?

As a married woman, I knew what man and woman could do. But how? The thought raced through my mind when I heard the woman's voice again.

“Section chief…”

“Mmm?”

Ah. So the people next door are coworkers having an affair.

I was still distracted by the sounds when the man suddenly pulled me into his arms, his hand sliding toward my chest.

“No… please…”

But I couldn't resist.

He began to rub my nipple through my bra.

“Ma'am… your breasts are incredible.”

The woman in the next booth cried out, “Section chief! Section chief!”—her voice growing rhythmic, more urgent.

And then—his fingers. They began to gently stroke the most sensitive part of me.

Unconsciously, I arched my back and let out a moan.

I must be a bad wife. But this man's touch… it was even worse.

“Ahh…”

His fingers plunged deeper.

I trembled with overwhelming pleasure. He moved his fingers and whispered into my ear:

“You have an extraordinary pussy.”

“Liar… that's not true.”

“No, it's real. Your husband must be jealous.”

“……”

“Ahh… I'm already like this.”

He took my hand and placed it over his crotch, on top of his pants.

I felt faint. But I couldn't suppress my curiosity.

Since marriage, I'd only known my husband.

What are other men like?

Even when lying beside my husband, I'd sometimes wondered.

And now—wasn't this the perfect chance to find out?

I watched, almost in disbelief, as my pale, slender fingers were drawn toward the hard bulge in his pants. I didn't resist—couldn't resist.

He guided my palm, pressing it against himself.

“Ahh…”

It was hard. Large.

I'd begun to grow tired of my husband's routine.

He'd always pull down my panties with his toes, then just move his fingers a little before mounting me. If I wasn't aroused, he'd use his saliva—then force himself in, even when it hurt.

This man finally slipped his hand into my panties.

He stroked my ripe, married flesh with abandon, then took my hand and guided it to his own.

I gripped him through his pants. For the first time since marriage, I was touching another man.

I felt like I was holding something precious—terrified.

Then, as if he couldn't take it anymore, he suddenly stood. Towered over me.

His crotch pressed against my face. The booth was so narrow I couldn't move back.

Then—he unzipped his pants.

“Ahh…”

He pulled himself out.

I tried to pull away, but my head hit the wall. He grabbed my hand and shoved it into his open fly.

“Ahh…”

I gripped him through his underwear.

He didn't pull it out himself—he wanted me to do it.

“Ma'am… take it out. Pull it out for me.”

“No… I don't want to!”

“Why not?”

“I'm scared.”

“You're married. You should be used to a man's body.”

“…another man… it's frightening.”

“Come on!”

Suddenly, I felt a surge of desire—to see it, to know it. I touched it with my fingers.

But he couldn't wait. His cock burst through the front of his underwear, thick and powerful.

“Ahh!”

I gasped. He was incredibly strong.

He's younger than my husband, I thought.

“Please, ma'am… I'm begging you.”

It felt intoxicating. When was the last time I'd felt like this? It was like being 17 or 18 again.

His cock looked even larger now, fully exposed.

“Touch me, please. I'm begging you.”

I had no choice. I gently wrapped my fingers around his thick shaft. My fingers looked even paler, even more delicate in contrast.

I wasn't just trying to please him—I was enjoying the sight of my own slender fingers wrapped around a man's hardness, shifting them at different angles.

“Your fingers… they feel incredible.”

“Yours is so hot…”

“I'm excited. Ahh… I can't hold back anymore.”

Suddenly, he grabbed my face with both hands.

“Ahh!”

I cried out. He was moving toward my mouth.

“No! No! I don't want that!”

I twisted my head, trying to escape. But his grip was too strong.

I clenched my lips shut. Then he pressed his fingers hard against my cheeks.

I couldn't help it—I opened my mouth.

“Ahh!”

He didn't hesitate.

It hurt. He was so rough. But his roughness… strangely, I liked it.

I was deeply aroused, thrilled.

He was close to climax.

Then he dropped to his knees in front of the sofa.

And pulled down my panties—and pantyhose—completely. My buttocks were fully exposed.

“No! No!”

I protested, but my voice had no strength.

The fabric slid past my hips. Down my calves. Off my ankles.

My bare skin touched the sofa.

It felt slightly dirty, so I lifted my hips and pulled my skirt under me, placing it between my skin and the seat.

He grabbed my knees and spread them wide.

“Ahh… it's embarrassing!”

His breath touched my most intimate place. He'd brought his face close.

He paused. Then blew a warm breath. Then pulled back.

The sensation was incredibly erotic. I trembled without realizing it.

Excited, he leaned in again.

“Ahh!”

He was about to attack with his tongue. Or would he take me fully into his lips?

When I was aroused, my folds swelled, forming a perfect shape for a man's mouth.

I found myself hoping.

Just one more centimeter—and I'd be inside his mouth.

I felt the roughness of his skin. He'd shaved, but a man's jaw still had that coarse texture.

Just as I thought his lips would finally touch me—he pulled back again.

“You're cruel… such a tease.”

I moaned sweetly and lifted my hips, trying to push myself into his mouth, his tongue.

But he pulled away again.

I lifted my hips harder. It was an absurd, desperate position.

Then he stood.

“Ahh!”

He pressed his erect cock against me.

But I didn't run. I pushed back, meeting him.

“Ahh! Ahh!”

It was simple.

He thrust hard, deep inside me.

His breathing grew ragged.

I began to feel pleasure.

When he shot his thick, milky load deep inside me, I reached my peak at the same moment.

We clung to each other—me wrapping my arms around his waist, him holding me tightly—as we both rode the waves of climax.

We stayed like that for a while.

We'd mixed our bodies in a café and experienced ecstasy.

It was over. In broad daylight, in a café, we'd had sex.

I felt drained. When I left the café, my legs were trembling.

“Ahh… that was amazing… I want to see you again.”

“……”

“Won't you give me your number?”

“I…”

I hesitated. A man calling my home—my husband's home—felt awkward.

“Oh, if you want to meet, I'll call you.”

“Really? I work here. Actually, I'm on break now—I came to the department store for an errand. And I met someone as attractive as you… I'm so lucky. But it's evening now—want to grab a beer somewhere?”

We walked side by side into a nearby barbecue restaurant.

We drank smooth imported beer and tender grilled meat.

“Well, I should be going. The subway will get crowded soon.”

“Of course. You'd be in trouble if you didn't get home before your husband, right?”

“Yes. After all, I'm a married woman.”

I smiled as I answered.

There, we parted.

I knew I'd call him if I wanted to.

Later, I stopped by the department store and bought 400 grams of imported steak meat on sale.

I asked them to cut it thick. I didn't forget to pick up a bottle of wine.

For some reason, I felt like pampering my husband tonight.

Back home, I seasoned the steak and set it aside to marinate, then rushed to the bathroom for a shower.

I carefully washed the part of me that had just taken another man.

I even inserted my fingers, scrubbing deep, holding the showerhead upside down to rinse the inner folds.

I didn't want my husband to taste another man if he ever went down on me.

But in an hour, there'd be no trace.

My sex was slightly swollen, tighter than usual.

What if my husband forces himself in like this?

I gently inserted a finger, then two, spreading myself wide. A stream of water flowed in.

As it trickled out, a soft wave of pleasure spread through me.

Remembering the sensation of taking a man I didn't even know, my body twitched.

No, I shouldn't.

I softly circled the outer area, bringing myself to a gentle finish.

“Ahh…”

The pleasure intensified.

Since I'd gone this far, I might as well enjoy it fully.

I braced my hand on the edge of the tub, lowered my upper body, reached behind, and aimed the showerhead at my entrance.

“Ahh… Ahh!”

My clit vibrated.

The stream hit my back, then flowed forward, cascading over my pussy.

I climaxed again. My body went limp.

But what if my husband came home now?

He'd be furious if he knew I was pleasuring myself at home while he worked hard outside.

I barely managed to stand. Got dressed. Prepared dinner.

Soon, my husband came home.

I sizzled the steak in a pan, letting the fat render, sprinkling pepper, cooking it until golden brown. A few drops of soy sauce. I plated the still-sizzling meat.

My husband stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist.

“Smells good. You made something special? Anything happen today?”

“Nothing. Just… the beef was on sale.”

I answered casually. I sounded completely normal—no different from any other day.

I'd just had an affair for the first time, yet I didn't seem nervous or unnatural. I was surprised at how unchanged I felt.

At this rate, I could have affairs whenever I wanted. Not that I planned to keep doing it.

“I bought wine. Or do you want beer?”

“Beer first.”

He drank the cold beer in long gulps.

“How's the steak?”

“Perfect. Crispy outside, pink inside. You cooked it just right.”

The steak was tender, delicious. The wine was good, too. Suddenly, I felt bold.

“Listen… I've been thinking.”

“About what?”

“I… want to work again.”

“What?”

“It's boring being stuck at home. When I go to the mall to pass time, I just waste money.”

I didn't say: And I might end up having sex in a café.

“And we'd save a little on rent, too.”

“Is there a job somewhere?”

“The company I used to work for. I'll try going back. Maybe not full-time…”

“…there'll be men at the office. And you're still young, attractive.”

“No problem. I'm not interested in office men.”

I lied, even though I was.

“Really? They'll try to seduce you after work.”

“Don't worry. I'll come straight home.”

“Then I can't stop you.”

“You agree? Oh, I'm so happy!”

I squeezed his thigh. Then, pretending my hand slipped, I brushed the area between his legs.

“Hey, wrong spot.”

“Mmm… I'll give you extra service tonight. I'm in such a good mood.”

“That's for the bedroom. But let's toast—congratulations on your return to work!”

I raised my wine glass.

But the moment I said I'd go back to work, my husband seemed jealous. That night—though it wasn't our usual night—he pulled me into his arms.

“Ahh!”

His cock was already hard. Strong, full of life.

“Wow. Was it the steak?”

I asked, stroking him.

He reached for my center, sliding his fingers inside.

Same touch. Same rhythm.

But after the intense passion with another man, my husband's familiar touch felt comforting, sweet.

Without thinking, I lifted my hips and cried out.

A cry of pure, spontaneous joy.

Unlike the café, I could scream as loud as I wanted. Soon, he moved over me, inside me.

Ahh… the same familiar feeling. But which was better?

The man today was bigger, harder. But as my husband thrust with determination, I lost myself in the moment.

For a second, I wasn't sure who was on top of me—my husband or the man from the café.

We reached climax almost at the same time.

The next day, I called my old company's HR manager.

He quickly agreed, getting approval from the department head and president.

My polite demeanor from back then must have helped. And I'd once been called “Miss XX Company”—my looks had won their favor.

And so, my first day back arrived.

I could leave a little later than my husband, but since it was my first day, I wanted to arrive earlier than the other female employees.

I didn't want my husband to say my service had declined.

I woke early, toasted bread, brewed coffee, and dressed like a proper office lady.

“Time to wake up.”

I went to wake my husband.

He looked up at me from under the covers.

“You look… more beautiful than usual.”

“I just dressed properly. It's my first day back.”

“Mmm… you really are pretty.”

Suddenly, he reached out from under the blanket and grabbed my ankle.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on… just once.”

“We did it last night.”

Since I'd decided to work, he'd been clingy, constantly asking for sex.

“I feel like it.”

“No, I don't have time.”

I pried his fingers off one by one.

But then I noticed—he was peeking under my skirt. Still so greedy.

“Aaah, no! Let go!”

“Mmm… seeing under your skirt like this… I really want it.”

“No! I'm going to be late.”

“Fine. I'll let go.”

“Then let go!”

“But only if you do something for me.”

“What?”

“Come here… to this.”

He kicked off the blanket, pointing at the front of his pajamas.

“Kiss me here. With your lips. Use your tongue.”

“No! I don't have time.”

“You have time for a kiss, don't you?”

“I do… but—”

“Make me taste good. So when some guy at work talks to you, you'll remember me.”

“Oh, please. I won't forget you even without that.”

“Just do it. I won't let go of this pretty ankle until you do.”

I had no choice.

He was like a spoiled child.

I sat on the blanket, my ankle still in his grip, and pulled down his underwear.

“Ahh…”

He was fully erect. Must be the morning.

I leaned in with my lipstick-stained lips and sucked the tip once.

“There. Done?”

“No. Again.”

I did it lightly.

“Not like that! More passionately!”

His cock grew even harder.

Maybe I should just finish him off. But I didn't have time.

“Isn't that enough?”

When he still wouldn't let go, I pretended to kiss him again—then quickly pulled back.

“Trying to run?”

“Hoho… no more.”

I said, then rushed to the mirror to reapply my lipstick.

He knew if he kept dawdling, he'd be late.

So he finally got up, shaved, washed his face.

Soon, we sat across from each other at the table.

We chewed toast, sipped coffee.

He kept staring at me.

“Got something on my face?”

“No… you look like a real beauty. So elegant.”

“Hoho, thank you.”

“You remind me of three years ago. But you've become even more of a woman.”

“Really?”

I answered, finishing my coffee.

I quickly stood, checking my handbag. He stood too, tying his tie.

“It's been a while since you've gone back to your old company. You must miss your old coworkers and bosses.”

He was right. But if I admitted it, he'd be jealous.

“No, not really. You know how weird everyone at that company is.”

“Yeah, my company's the same.”

He said, stepping behind me. Then suddenly—he pushed me.

“Ahh! What are you doing?”

In one motion, he lifted my skirt, pulled down my panties and pantyhose.

Then he dropped his pants, pulling out his hard, ready cock.

“Ahh! No! No! I'll be late!”

I screamed—but he thrust into me anyway.

I worried about being late. But I began to feel it—my body responded on its own.

“I'm really late. I'll see you later.”

He pulled out, pulled up his pants, and ran out.

His footsteps faded outside. If I missed the next bus, I'd be late too.

I pulled my skirt back down.

Bent over the dresser, I felt unfinished. I'd wanted to go to work feeling fresh and clean.

I slipped one finger into my center.

A soft, delicate sensation. I could understand why men were desperate to be inside here.

No time now. My reflection in the mirror—my face was slightly flushed.

I reapplied powder, checked the gas, locked the door, and stepped out.

Returning to work didn't feel bad at all.

The cold air sharpened my senses, washing away the traces of my husband's touch.

I walked with the click of my heels, breathing deeply.

I doubted my work life would go smoothly. If someone pressed me… I might give in.

I might even call that man from the café.

But that was for later. I'd handle things as they came.

Sex is meant to be enjoyed, isn't it? That's why the Creator gave us pleasure.

And so, returning to work felt more exciting than I'd ever imagined.