Chapter 1 — The Pleasure of Three Island - Part 1 (1)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. All characters are adults aged 18 or over.

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Nine years of married life.

My wife had given birth, yes—but even a blind man could see she was a stunning, sexy woman in her late twenties.

Yet now, we only had sex once or twice a month, dutifully, mechanically. Long gone was any sense of mystery between us. We had become that couple—empty, routine, indifferent.

Then, one day, I began to feel myself changing.

An overwhelming urge took hold—something I'd only ever seen in videos. I wanted, desperately, to do it with my wife. The impulse grew stronger by the day. At first, I laughed it off—I must be bored, going crazy. But as time passed, the fantasies became unbearable.

My wife sucking another man's cock. Another man's cock buried deep inside her pussy. The way she'd writhe and scream in ecstasy—so vivid, so real—it made me hard just imagining it.

(Only those who've never felt that thrill could fail to understand.)

I couldn't hold back anymore. I had to make it happen.

But I needed help.

So I picked a junior colleague—one who always listened to me. A quiet man, tight-lipped. And not from around here—perfect for keeping secrets.

When I made my proposal, he nearly jumped out of his skin, telling me to stop joking.

But once he realized I was serious, he agreed—and then couldn't hide his excitement.

Maybe he'd always wanted her. After all, he'd visited our home often. How could he not have imagined her naked body? How could a single man look at my wife and not fantasize about shoving his cock into her mouth?

Either way, step one was complete.

From then on, just imagining my wife having sex with my junior sent waves of euphoria crashing through my body—like floating on clouds. The image of her sucking his cock deep into her throat became so vivid, so real, I could almost hear her gag.

I was desperate. I had to make it happen—now.

So I began seducing my wife.

Not hastily. Every night before bed, I'd whisper dirty stories, play porn videos, read erotic tales aloud.

She'd grown tired of our monotonous sex life. Now, with me suddenly aggressive, aroused, she didn't resist—she responded.

During sex, I'd whisper in her ear: Imagine someone else. Imagine another man watching you. Imagine another cock. And I'd watch her face.

At first, she'd frown. But soon, under my relentless whispers, she began to react.

Her eyes would close. She'd swoon at my voice, breathless, waiting for my next word.

I knew then.

I pushed further, darker, filthier—until one night, she was fully aroused, moaning, "Yes! Yes! Baby, I want another one! I want to suck another cock!"

She'd suck my fingers like a starving woman, or open her mouth to the air, miming the act of deepthroating.

I felt a surge of confidence.

She would do it. I was certain. And in that moment, I loved her more than ever.

I didn't stop at bedtime. During coffee breaks, when we were alone—I'd coax her, tempt her.

We're not having more kids. If we understand each other, allow each other… why not enjoy life to the fullest?

And I started inviting my junior to our home more often.

After about two weeks, she began to change.

The woman who used to brush me off, snap at me—now responded softly, subtly. When I mentioned he was coming over, she'd smile, just a little, just enough.

So one night, I set the stage.

I arranged a drinking session—just the three of us.

When the alcohol had warmed our blood, I pretended to go crazy and ran to the bedroom, returning with a porn tape.

On screen, a woman was being taken by two men—one in her mouth, one in her pussy.

A soft gasp escaped my wife's lips.

But instead of getting angry, she laughed.

“Oh my, honey, this is so dirty! And with Michael Yoon here, too. Right, Michael Yoon?” She giggled.

My heart pounded so hard I feared it would burst.

My cock swelled instantly.

Michael Yoon, too, was stunned—but his eyes quickly dropped to my wife's chest, then her ass, raking over her body.

We kept the video playing and started a game.

I suggested it: Loser takes off one piece of clothing.

To my shock, my wife agreed.

One by one, clothes came off.

Soon, only underwear remained—Michael Yoon and I in briefs, my wife in just her top.

Her eyes grew hazy, drunk not just on alcohol but on something deeper—something long buried, now waking.

Then she lost.

I held my breath. Would she take it off?

She hesitated, then slowly pulled down her pants.

Then she said, “Now you two better not peek~ If you lose, you strip too. Got it?”

We both grinned. “Of course~”

Michael Yoon and I exchanged a glance.

This is it. Tonight's the night.

No words. But we both knew.

There we were—three people, sitting in the living room, nearly naked, playing a game.

Michael Yoon's cock was already pushing hard against his briefs—bulging, obvious.

No wonder. My wife's body was flawless—anywhere, anytime, she'd stand out.

And she—she kept glancing at Michael Yoon's bulge. Every time their eyes met, they'd lock, stare, linger.

I pretended not to notice.

Then Michael Yoon lost again.

He acted like he'd refuse—but then, slowly, peeled off his briefs.

My wife laughed—laughed—as his cock sprang free.

He tried to cover it, but she didn't look away. She stared.

And that—that—sent fire through my veins.

Then my wife lost again.

Without hesitation, she pulled off her bra.

I couldn't hide my excitement. My cock stood straight up, throbbing, alive.

Soon, we were all naked.

I gave Michael Yoon a look.

He quietly slipped toward the bedroom.

My wife, still playing, called after him—“Hey, where are you going?”—and reached out, almost flirtatiously.

The moment he left, I dove between my wife's legs.

She spread them wide, pressing my head down with her hands.

More daring. More honest than ever.

With her other hand, she rubbed her breasts, moaning.

“Ah~~ Baby~~ Mmm… mmm… Ah… more, baby~~ mmm… mmm… Ah…”

Louder. Sexier. As if she wanted Michael Yoon to hear.

I sucked her pussy—long, deep—until she was soaked, trembling, on the edge.

Then I pulled away.

She cried out, “Baby~~ No~~ Ah… I… what should I do… Ah~~”

Begging.

“Then try it with Michael Yoon,” I whispered.

Her eyes flew open. “Are you crazy?!”

But her body was ready. Her heart, already given.

I kept coaxing. “I mean it, baby. If you're happy, I'm happy. Seeing you like this—really happy—it turns me on…”

Finally, she spoke.

“Then… no taking it back later. Promise me. Promise you'll let it happen!”

I promised.

Then I laid her on the couch.

She looked at me—“I love you”—and took my cock into her mouth.

It was unlike anything I'd ever felt.

Softer. Gentler. Hungrier.

“Baby~~ Tonight… I want to be that woman in the video. Ah…”

Yes. Tonight, she was the star.

She sucked me like a seasoned porn queen—like a woman trained in America, flawless, perfect.

I fingered her pussy.

She was dripping—more than I'd seen since our honeymoon.

When my fingers touched her, she spread her legs wider, screamed.

Bold. Fearless. Not like her at all.

“Ah… baby~~ So good~~ You're the best~~ Mmm… mmm… Ah…”

I never knew she could be this wild.

Never imagined she'd become this daring.

But I was happy. Ecstatic.

The happiest man alive.

Just before she climaxed, I pulled my fingers out—and gently removed my cock from her mouth.

I kissed her deeply, then led her toward the bedroom.

Inside, Michael Yoon stood by the slightly open door, cock fully erect, waiting.

I raised one thumb.

He returned it, bowed slightly, and slipped out to the living room.

And in that moment—my entire body trembled.

Every capillary in my skin burst with pleasure.

I could already see what would happen next.

It felt like a dream.

But it was real.

And it was just beginning.