Chapter 1 — The Wife of Another Man (3S, Group Sex Story)

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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Men, deep down, desire not their own wives—but the wives of other men.

And if another man were to take his wife… would the husband’s cock still get hard watching it happen?

"Sweetheart… my friend’s having a housewarming today. Let’s get ready quickly."

"Alright…"

We got in the car and headed toward Ilsan.

A neighborhood thick with motels, packed with apartment complexes—why did this village feel so suffocating?

When we opened the front door, my husband’s friends were already there, drinking.

"Hey! Come on in… Hello, Sarah Lee… Long time no see."

"Oh my, Sarah Lee, welcome! You must’ve had a tough time getting here?"

I exchanged greetings with my husband’s friends in the living room, then slipped into the bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet, peeing, I drifted into thought.

One of my husband’s friends here had once shared a bed with us back when my husband and I were living together near school—before we were married.

The three of us slept in the same room. I lay beside my husband, using his chest and arm as a pillow, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

But once my husband fell into a deep sleep, that friend quietly reached over and took my hand resting on my husband’s stomach. In the pitch-black room, his eyes burned as he stared at me.

I was terrified. How could this be happening to me? Panic surged—how could I escape this? What should I do?

Then the friend got up, opened the door, and left—probably heading to the bathroom.

The bathroom was in a corner of the yard, so I could hear his footsteps fading into the distance.

My throat burned. Something hot and restless parched me from within. My thoughts spun wildly. Without thinking, I slipped through a small door into the kitchen.

It was a tiny house—one room, a door leading to the yard, a small kitchen door, and another connecting the room and kitchen.

In the dark kitchen, I poured myself a cup of chilled barley tea from the refrigerator and took a breath to steady myself.

Then the kitchen door opened—and in walked my husband’s friend.

I frozen. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me somewhere, then guided it inside his pants.

What my fingers touched wasn’t my husband’s cock—it was his.

The bumpy head of his penis, hot like a glowing coal, pressed against my palm.

Trembling, I gripped it, staring into his eyes.

He pulled me close, lifted me up, and began pulling my sleeveless summer dress up from the bottom. He tugged down my white cotton panties—just halfway, until they caught at my thighs.

Then his hand slipped back between my legs.

My wet slit opened, and two of his fingers plunged deep inside me.

A short, sharp cry rose in my throat—but before it could escape, his mouth crashed onto mine.

His tongue forced its way in, wrapping around mine. His saliva pooled in my mouth—thick, strange, intoxicating—and I swallowed it.

His tongue searched every corner of my mouth, as if hunting for something.

I was lost in a haze, mind blank.

Then his mouth moved down, lower, along my legs.

I leaned back against a wooden cabinet in the corner of the small kitchen.

He began eating me out like a man starved.

I felt an unfamiliar climax rising—not from my husband, but from the idea of being with another man. That thought alone sent waves of excitement crashing through me.

As I leaned back, the cabinet shifted under my weight, tilting sideways.

He pushed me toward the door leading back to the room.

Without resistance, I spread my legs and bent over as he told me. My panties still hooked at my ankles—my posture absurd, shameful.

Truth was, I’d never even known sex could happen like this.

All my experiences had been what my husband taught me—only missionary, always face-to-face.

But now, in this moment, my pussy gushed so much wetness it ran down my thighs.

He went back to licking me, harder.

When he gripped my ass cheeks and spread them wide, his tongue darting deep into my folds, the pleasure surged higher—so intense I nearly collapsed.

"Ahh… hhh… ah… ah…"

I kept my moans quiet, afraid someone might hear.

But the sounds escaping me now were desperate—aching—like I was begging him to fill me, to release me.

He was clearly experienced.

The way he licked me—something my husband had never done—sent me straight into deep, shattering ecstasy.

Just as I hit climax, trembling through the peak, he pulled down his pants and pulled out his cock.

In the dim light, his cock looked long, thick, powerful—so much so that the thought of it thrusting into me sent a mix of fear and pleasure rushing through my chest.

When the head touched my slit, my pussy opened on its own, soaked, ready to take him in.

He pushed in—almost all the way—but couldn’t go deeper, blocked by the soft flesh of my ass.

Instinctively, I lifted my hips higher, begging for more depth.

When he finally plunged deep and began thrusting, a wild excitement surged inside me again.

"Ahh… ahh… uhh… uhhhh… ahh—!"

When he pulled out and slammed back in, hitting some hidden spot inside me, I cried out in sharp pain.

Inside the room, my husband lay in deep sleep, unaware that another man was fucking his wife right now.

Suddenly, I got up and opened the door.

The door swung inward. The stale air of the room hit my nose. A small curtain hanging in front of the kitchen brushed against my lips.

I peeked through the gap.

My husband had kicked off the blanket. His cock stuck out from his boxers, half-erect, almost shyly, as if staring at me.

The man behind me flinched at my sudden movement—but then, without missing a beat, he hardened again and resumed thrusting.

The thought of another man fucking me while my husband watched flooded back—more vivid than ever.

I rocked my hips harder, chasing a deeper climax.

Then I felt it—his cock pulsing, swelling—before it went soft and slipped out.

I mourned its absence.

His cum spilled down my back, my ass. I stood there, drained, my own juices dripping from my pussy.

"I… I really like you… I hesitated for so long… I’ve held back so much. I wanted to do this the last time you came too… I’m sorry…"

I didn’t hear his words.

I only felt.

But he left me with something deeper than pleasure—a wound.

He didn’t understand a woman’s desire to stretch climax endlessly, to linger in that peak…

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How much had my husband drunk? His friends had been drinking heavily—this wasn’t a housewarming. It was a drinking party.

I came out of the bathroom and saw him—the husband of this house, my husband’s friend—staring at me blankly.

I smiled softly. He smiled back.

His wife offered me a drink. I emptied the glass in one go.

I raised my glass to him in return.

Everyone turned to look. Awkwardly, his hand reached out, took my glass, and I poured until it overflowed.

A few friends left. My husband and I collapsed, drunk, into some room—didn’t even know which one.

He was still deep in alcohol-induced sleep, completely out.

I woke up slightly, my head clearing, and staggered out looking for the bathroom.

There it was—right next to the master bedroom.

I approached the bathroom door, about to open it—when I saw a crack in the master bedroom door, slightly ajar.

Through the faint blue light, I saw two shadows having sex.

It was him—the husband of the house, my husband’s friend—and his wife.

They were nearly finished. The top shadow climbed off. The one below got up and walked into the bedroom bathroom.

I quickly slipped into the bathroom, pulled down my panties, and peed.

I tried to be quiet, afraid the sound of my stream might carry.

As I wiped myself, I looked at the tissue—and saw not just pee, but a thick, sticky fluid smeared on it.

I was excited. Trying to calm myself.

Knock… knock.

Someone was knocking on the bathroom door.

Then—suddenly—the light went out.

The doorknob twisted, jiggled—someone was trying to open it.

But I’d locked it. It didn’t budge.

A moment later, I opened the door and stepped out.

I froze.

In the corner of the living room sat a figure. It was him.

And he was walking toward me.

"Hey… are you very drunk? How’s your stomach?"

He handed me a drink. I took it and sat on the edge of the sofa.

"It’s been a while… time just flew…"

I said something meaningless. He smiled.

Then—he pulled me into his arms.

I didn’t resist. I didn’t know why, but I let myself go.

As I listened to his heartbeat in his chest, the old excitement surged back.

Without thinking, my hand slipped into his pants.

Inside, his cock was soft—exhausted from earlier climax.

But when my fingers wrapped around it and lifted it, it stirred.

It grew hard—strong, alive—straining against my grip as if trying to break free.

"Uhh… mm… ah… ah."

I didn’t even recognize my own moans. His cock swelling in my hand made sounds rise from deep in my throat.

He suddenly lifted me up, carried me, and walked into the room where I’d been lying.

I struggled weakly, half-heartedly.

But the way he carried me—toward the room where my husband slept—felt like some dark magic.

Inside, my husband was still passed out, deep in drunken slumber.

The man set me down gently, then pulled off my borrowed sweatpants. My panties he left hooked at my thighs.

He spread my ass cheeks and buried his mouth between my legs.

My pussy was already gushing—oozing pre-climax fluids I couldn’t control.

He licked it all up, sucking my juices like a man soothing his own hunger.

His wild, relentless tongue tore through me, and I couldn’t stop trembling.

I was craving this—craving the pleasure of another man, not my husband.

His tongue pushed me closer and closer to climax.

It was like he lit a fire in my pussy and breasts.

Hot liquid ran down my thighs.

"Ahh… ahh… ahh… hhh… haa…"

I pressed my lips shut, desperate not to scream.

I wanted to feel every second of this climax—fully, completely.

I’d wanted this for so long. This peak. This ecstasy. I needed it.

Then—my husband stirred. His eyes fluttered open.

Instinctively—no, desperately—I didn’t want to lose this moment.

I yanked down my husband’s pants and underwear.

He was still dazed, half-asleep.

His cock rose, thick and ready.

I took it into my mouth.

As I sucked him, the other man’s tongue slipped in, licking my clit like a thief stealing treasure.

I sucked my husband harder.

The rising climax inside my pussy made me crave the other man’s cock.

I sucked my husband’s cock, swirling my tongue around the head—when suddenly, I felt the other man’s cock brush against my ass.

Then his hands gripped my hips, spread my ass wide—and his cock slid into my wet slit.

It slipped in so easily—was it because I was so wet? Or had my body changed over the years?

He began thrusting slowly—carefully, as if afraid my husband might wake.

As my husband’s cock stiffened in my mouth, I sucked gently, using only my tongue to tease the head. My heart pounded like it might burst.

My saliva dripped down the shaft, pooling at the base.

Then the man behind me thrust harder, faster.

I felt myself spiraling toward climax—so intense I thought I might faint.

"Ahh… ahh… ahh… it hurts…"

Something hot erupted from his cock, hitting the walls of my pussy, pooling deep inside.

His chest pressed down on my back as he collapsed over me, emptying every last drop.

We stayed joined—his cock buried in me—for so long the coarse hair around it scraped against my ass.

My husband’s cock stood straight up, rigid—glaring at me like it knew. Like it was mocking me for my betrayal.

The man pulled out and left the room. Through the slightly open door, he looked back—watching me and my husband.

I pulled off my husband’s pants and underwear completely.

Then I climbed on top, pressing my soaked pussy against his mouth—begging him to taste me.

He woke up—dazed—and began licking me.

I reached for climax again. I tore off my top and bra, pressed my naked body against his, begging to be taken.

Startled by my sudden passion, he pulled me down, lifted my legs—and plunged his cock deep inside me.

I accepted it—welcomed the new wave of lust.

As his thrusts reached their peak, he groaned—then erupted, shooting thick ropes of cum deep inside me.

My pussy overflowed—two loads now mixed inside me.

His cock slipped out. I took it into my mouth, cleaning it slowly.

"Baby… why are you like this tonight? You’re incredible… damn…"

His voice drifted out of the room.

And in the darkness, I stayed—lost in the long, trembling echoes of climax.