Chapter 1 — The Woman from 603

Our apartment building was a typical corridor-style complex. Unit 602 was our home. Right next to us, in 603, lived a woman named Emma Han. Her husband was a civil servant, or so she said—though he was either coming home late every night or frequently on duty.

I was married too, a father of two. My wife still had full, firm breasts and a toned body, but after ten years of marriage, our nightly intimacy had become routine, mechanical.

Emma Han was thirty this year. She was married, with one daughter in elementary school. We’d lived in the same apartment building for four years now.

At first, we were nothing more than neighbors who exchanged polite greetings in passing. But on my way home from work, I often saw her in front of her apartment, preparing dinner with the front door wide open. Maybe it was just how things were in our small-town apartment complex—people left their doors open as if it were natural.

I never smoked inside. I always stepped into the hallway for a cigarette. And so, even late at night, I often ran into her.

That night was no different. It was late. I stepped out into the corridor and lit a cigarette.

Just as I flicked the lighter, the door to 603 opened.

Emma Han stepped out wearing only a thin slip. She held a garbage bag in one hand. The slip was pale pink, so sheer it was nearly translucent. The outline of her bra and panties was clearly visible.

Especially the black panties, which stood out sharply beneath the flimsy fabric. Her full breasts, narrow waist, and soft, womanly hips were all on display. Instantly, I felt my cock twitch and stiffen inside my pants.

“Hi… throwing out the trash?”

I trailed off, staring openly at her.

She bent forward slightly, stuffing trash into the bag. The slip rode up, revealing the soft flesh of her thighs and the curve of her ass. She must have felt my gaze—she paused for a moment, then glanced down at my crotch.

My sweatpants were tented, the bulge unmistakable. She gave a small smile, said nothing, and slipped back inside.

Back in my apartment, the sight of my wife sent a surge of lust through me. I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the hallway.

“What? What’s wrong?”

She looked startled, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I pulled her against me from behind, my hands gripping her full breasts through her blouse. I yanked her skirt up and slid my fingers into her slit—already wet.

“Here? What if someone sees?”

“Be quiet. No one’s watching.”

I thrust a finger inside her, then quickly unzipped and pushed my hard cock into her. The cool air of the hallway wrapped around us as her hot, tight pussy enveloped me.

I moved slowly, but in my mind, it wasn’t my wife—I was thinking of Emma Han. Her sheer slip. The black panties. Her full, round breasts...

Then I saw it—the door to 603, slightly ajar. Through the crack, Emma Han’s eyes were fixed on us. She was watching. Holding her breath, silently devouring every movement.

Knowing she was watching sent my arousal soaring. I gripped my wife’s hips tighter, thrusting deeper, harder. She trembled, biting back moans. I came inside her, pumping hot cum deep into her pussy.

After my wife went back inside, I lit another cigarette. Not long after, the door to 603 opened again.

Emma Han stepped out. Her face was flushed, her slip hanging loosely—no panties underneath. Her right hand glistened, her fingers slick and shiny. There was no doubt—she’d been watching us, touching herself.

“More… trash to throw out?”

I asked with a smirk. She shook her head, flustered. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I grabbed her and pulled her into my apartment.

“I’ve wanted this… for a long time.”

The moment she pulled down my pants, she took my cock into her mouth—still wet with my wife’s juices and my own cum. She closed her eyes and sucked hard, her tongue swirling around the head, taking me deep into her throat. Her technique was incredible.

I pulled off her slip and unhooked her bra. Her full, firm breasts spilled free. I sucked and bit at her nipples while my fingers dug into her pussy. She was soaked—so wet that her juices were dripping down her thighs.

“Please… hurry. My husband could come any minute.”

I pressed her against the front door and entered her from behind in one deep thrust.

She pushed her hips back, grinding wildly, moving with frantic energy. It was far more intense than what we’d just done in the hallway. Her pussy was hot, tight, clamping down on my cock like a vice.

I grabbed her hair, yanking her head back as I pounded into her, rough and relentless. I came again, deep inside her, filling her with my second load. She shuddered, her whole body trembling as she reached her climax.

After I finished, she dropped to her knees and took my softening cock back into her mouth, licking it clean with devotion. She swallowed every drop—my cum mixed with her own juices—without hesitation.

“That was amazing… can we do it again?”

She whispered. I smiled and nodded.

I stepped out into the hallway. The elevator dinged open, and her husband stepped out.

“Good evening. Lovely night.”

I greeted him normally and walked back inside. My wife, just out of the shower, smiled at me.

“If you’re done with your cigarette… want to go again?”

I chuckled. Tonight wasn’t over yet.