Chapter 5 — The Neighbor Housewife Who Ejaculated — 1 (5)

"When he started massaging the inside of my thighs, I thought I'd die from trembling.

I didn't even know his face, but another man—someone who wasn't my husband—was lightly touching my thighs, my private area. My heart felt like it would burst.

His hands were so soft, they didn't feel like a man's at all. I actually wondered if it might be a woman.

But then, when he rubbed my arms, I felt a strength that no woman could have. He was definitely a man. I didn't dare take off the blindfold—I was too ashamed."

I lay beside Claire, propping my head up with one arm as I listened, the other hand lazily kneading her breast, urging her to continue.

"He kept focusing on my thighs, my lower abdomen, then back to my thighs again.
It didn't feel like a massage. It felt like… foreplay.

Then suddenly, while rubbing my lower belly, his hand slowly slipped under my panties.

I couldn't speak. The sensation was so overwhelming, I just closed my eyes tightly and surrendered to it.
But then—he started pulling my panties off.

Instinctively, I grabbed them, trying to stop him.
But his hand gently, so gently, pushed mine aside.
Just a light touch, yet I let go—pretending I couldn't resist.
I even lifted my hips without thinking.
I kept asking myself, Why am I doing this?
Yet there was a force I couldn't fight.

After that, he began focusing on my pussy.
I moaned without meaning to, so I bit down hard on my teeth to stay quiet.
All the while, part of me panicked—What if my husband walks in?
But another part prayed desperately—Please, don't let him come in. Hohoho."

"You've got a bit of a slut in you, don't you?"

"I don't know… Maybe. Hohoho."

I was so turned on by Claire's story that my hand slid down to her pussy—only to find it soaked again.
She'd already leaked so much earlier, yet here she was, dripping like a faucet.
I couldn't believe a woman could be this wet.

"His hands felt better than my husband's mouth ever did.

When he slid his fingers inside me and used his thumb to stroke that sensitive spot—the clitoris—I thought I'd lose my mind.

I couldn't hold back anymore. A soft 'Hah…' slipped out.
And he whispered, so gently, Don't hold back. Let it out.
He said the room was soundproof—no one could hear.

Something in his voice gave me courage.
I started moaning naturally, without restraint.

His fingers—first one, then two… I don't know how many eventually—moved in and out of me.
Each thrust felt like actual sex, so intense, so good.

Then his pace quickened.
I felt something heavy building deep in my abdomen, like I needed to pee.
The urge grew stronger, unbearable—yet I couldn't possibly urinate there.
My mind spun, my senses blurred—but the pleasure was indescribable.
I'd never felt anything like it.

Eventually, I couldn't hold it anymore.
I just… let go.
My whole body trembled. My strength drained completely.
But what I felt wasn't shame at first—it was ten times more satisfying than peeing, electrifying, incredible.
Is this… an orgasm? I wondered.

Then came the embarrassment. The guilt. The shame.
But even then, I found myself wishing—he'd put his cock inside me.

Afterward, he seemed to wipe my body, the bed, everything around me with a warm, damp cloth.
I still hadn't taken off the blindfold—and I couldn't bring myself to.

Later, he removed my bra completely and gave me an oil massage.
The whole time, I was so aroused I kept thinking—Should I touch his cock?
I hesitated for ages, but in the end, I didn't have the courage.

When the massage ended, he covered me with a large towel and left the room.
I never saw his face.

Even now, I regret not looking just once.
That night… changed my body forever."

"No wonder your husband loved it. I've never seen anything like this—it's incredible."

"My husband didn't ask what happened that night. Not at all.
And at first, he was really into me.
But every time we had sex, I leaked so much—soaking the sheets, the mattress—he started showing disgust.

Eventually, we tried putting down plastic sheets, had sex on the floor, even in the bathroom—anywhere easier to clean.
But even that got old.
After a while, he started refusing sex altogether.
And me? Since that night, my body's only grown hotter."

"Did he start cheating then?"

"I don't know. All I knew was—Why am I like this?
To cool myself down, I secretly masturbated.
I even bought sex toys online.
I'd pleasure myself every time I showered.

Then one day… I got caught.

I thought my husband and kids were asleep, so I went into the bathroom and got lost in it.
But my husband woke up to pee—and walked right in.
I'd forgotten to lock the door."

"Hey—get a grip. You're so horny you've gone insane?"

He slammed the door shut and stormed off.
I was humiliated. I hated myself. I cried and cried.

After that, he treated me like a bug—barely speaking, never looking at me.
As if I was the one to blame… when it was all because of him… huuuh… huuuh…"

Claire broke into sobs again. Tears streamed down her face, and her pussy glistened—this woman, always drenched.

I patted her gently, soothing her.
Just hearing the story made me furious—ready to beat that husband senseless, he was so pathetic.

And Claire… she broke my heart.
I pulled her into a tight, sincere embrace.

Then, without a word, we kissed again—deep, hungry.
Our bodies flared with heat, like two dogs in heat, driven by instinct.

I decided to give her a full-body kiss massage.
Starting at her forehead, I kissed every inch of her face,
then slowly moved down—lips, neck, behind the ears, shoulders, arms, the back of her hands, each fingertip.

I traced back up, kissed under her arms, her chest, her nipples, her sternum, her belly, her sides.
When I reached her lower abdomen, she gasped.

"Ahh… please… put it in… hurry… ahhh… ahhh…"

I kept going—ignoring her plea.
Lower belly, hips, thighs, knees, shins, calves, feet.
I deliberately skipped her pussy. No reason. I just wanted to.

I wasn't even a foot fetishist—but the moment I reached her feet, I found them so clean, so delicate.
I took her toes into my mouth, swirling my tongue around each one.

Claire was losing it—clawing at her own breasts, moaning uncontrollably, lost in ecstasy.

When I licked the soles of her feet, she couldn't take it anymore.
She bolted upright, shoved me down, and took my cock into her mouth—hard.

Like a starving beggar who'd found meat, she devoured me—frantic, ravenous.

The tightness of her mouth drove me insane.
I wanted to scream, Please, save me!

I flipped her onto her back and finally—finally—slid my cock into her pussy.

Hot. So hot.
Claire's pussy was burning.

Knowing she was close, I pounded faster—needing just one more thrust before I came.

"Ahh… this time… let's come together… go slow… I can hold it… I can… ahh… haaah…"

And she did.
Claire controlled her climax—held it, shaped it.

As we moved together, feeling every pulse, every tremor, I felt my own end approaching.
She must've felt it too—she bit down on my shoulder, her body tensing.

I came at the most blissful moment of my life.
And Claire came with me.

I felt her hot liquid surge around my cock—clinging, pulsing, then spilling out.
That warmth, that grip—only those who've felt it can understand.

The ultimate moment.
The peak of pleasure.
The pure joy of being alive.
Of being a man.
Of being with a woman like Claire.

After that, we became lovers naturally.
We never missed a single day in a month.
We've tried everything—left nothing unexplored.

And she became the woman who, like garlic—pungent, impossible to ignore—creeps into my bed every night.