The Woman Next Door
I lift my wife’s legs, wrapped tightly around my waist, up onto my shoulders. [Thrust] “Ah, honey, it’s so deep, haang.”
Savoring the heat of her thighs, I drive my cock upward from below. [Thud, thud, thud, thud] “Haang, aang, haang.” Her pussy juices pour out in torrents, running down over my balls.
“Aang, haang, honey…” She wraps both arms around my head and moans wildly into my mouth. I shift her right leg from my right shoulder to the left, twisting her body sideways. When I pull her hips closer, she braces her right hand against the wall for balance and I start pumping again. [Slap, slap, thud, thud]
“Ah, honey, aang, haang, it feels so good, haang.”
“Wife, what did you do with that guy earlier?”
“Haang, haang, haang, who? Jae-geun? Aang.”
The moment his name leaves her lips, I feel like I’m about to come. I take my left hand off her thigh and squeeze her bouncing left breast hard.
“Haak, haak, aang, haang.”
“What did you do with that bastard? Earlier, ugh.”
“Haang, haak, heuk, nothing, haang, aang.”
“He was rubbing his cock against your ass from behind.”
“Haang, aang-aang, that was just a joke, haang, aang.”
The moment I mention him, her reaction grows even more intense. Her pussy clamps down on my cock like it wants to cut it off. The pleasure shooting up my spine is almost unbearable.
“What’s his name? That bastard.”
“Aang, aang, Jae-geun, haak.”
Every time his name slips from her mouth, my thrusts become more violent.
“Say it again.”
“Haang, aang, heuk, Jae-geun, haak.”
“Again.”
“Jae-geun, haang, haang.”
“Keep saying it.”
“Haang, aang, Jae-geun, haang, Jae-geun, aang, Jae-geun, haang.”
Her moans turn into cries. Clutching her husband’s cock, she screams another man’s name.
“Haang, aang, honey, I feel like I’m going to die, it feels too good, haang, aang-aang.”
“Why? Do you want Jae-geun’s cock inside you? Huh?”
“Haang, aang, aang, haang.”
“You want it, don’t you?”
“No, aang, no, haang, no, ah, ah, aaaaah!”
Her body suddenly freezes. Her thighs tremble with tiny spasms and her moans cut off as she gasps for breath. She’s climaxing. When she comes, her pussy squeezes my cock even harder than a hand could. Watching her face while she orgasms to another man’s name, I feel no jealousy, no envy, no anger. Only raw lust. Saliva glistens between her slightly parted lips; her eyes are shut tight, head thrown back. I keep pounding into her spasming pussy. The hot juices running down my balls push me over the edge. I pull her shaking thighs tight against me and flood her womb with cum, grinding my hips as I empty every last drop.
“Haaak.” She lets out a sharp cry as my semen slams against her cervix. After catching her breath for a while, I pull out. Her pussy stays open in the shape of my cock, white cum slowly trickling out and sliding down her thigh.
I wonder how wide that hole would be if he fucked her. The image of his cock that my brother-in-law once described flashes through my mind. I lower her left leg from my shoulder. She sways, still bracing herself against the wall. I scoop her up and carry her to the sofa, sitting down with her in my lap.
“Did you like it?”
“Mm, you were amazing, my husband. So hot.”
She smiles drowsily and presses her lips to mine. We kiss softly, savoring the afterglow of our intense sex.
“Honey.”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you bring him up earlier?”
“Just because.”
“Really? But how did you see him messing around?”
“It was so noisy, so I peeked a little.”
“Yeah? He’s fun, but kind of gross too.”
“And who’s the slutty wife who got so turned on moaning his name?”
“What?” She bites my lip hard.
“Ow.”
“Hoho, did that hurt? Hoho.”
“Wife, you were squeezing me so tight every time you said his name.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” She sucks hard on my lips once more, then heads for the bathroom.
“Come shower with me, honey.” She winks and wiggles her fingers before turning away. Her T-shirt and bra are bunched at her waist, her skirt badly wrinkled. Mesmerized by the sight of her ass swaying toward the bathroom, I follow her inside.
My charming wife. I kiss the cheek of my peacefully sleeping wife. I close my eyes again, trying to sleep. My head throbs and my body feels heavy. I’m exhausted, but sleep won’t come. The clock already shows 1 a.m.
“Is he still there?”
I leave the bedroom, sit on the sofa, and turn on my laptop. I open the mail program and bring up the feed from next door. The living room light is still on. My brother-in-law is slumped on the sofa, dozing, while that bastard sits close to Yoo-mi, talking about something. Judging by the empty bottles on the table, they’ve drunk quite a bit. Yoo-mi and the guy have their backs to the camera, so I can’t see their faces. I switch to full screen.
“Huh.”
He’s holding her hand. He’s cupping Yoo-mi’s left hand with both of his, gently stroking it. Her arm resting on the table keeps sliding underneath. She looks drunk too. Nothing changes for what feels like ten minutes. He keeps talking while she just listens.
Yoo-mi suddenly pulls her hand away and stands up, swaying. He jumps up like lightning and supports her—or pretends to, wrapping his arms around her from behind. I can’t see what’s happening in front. After struggling for a moment, Yoo-mi turns her head, laughs, and pushes him away. He grabs her waist and pulls her in. She stumbles into his arms. His hands start kneading her ass.
“No way.”
Yoo-mi stays still in his embrace. Whether from the alcohol or because she’s allowing it, my chest tightens. I’m angry. Angry at Yoo-mi for just accepting it, even though she isn’t my woman. His hand lifts the hem of her dress. She adjusts her stance and pushes against his chest. He pulls her back in and buries his face in her neck. She shoves him away harder. He flinches and steps back. She says something to him, her face furious. She turns and wakes my brother-in-law. After a short exchange, the guy leaves. My brother-in-law lies back down on the sofa while Yoo-mi goes into the bedroom. The light stays on.
“I knew Yoo-mi wasn’t that kind of easy woman.”
I close the laptop and return to bed. I stroke my wife’s face as she nestles against my chest and think about Yoo-mi. That same flutter I felt back in college rises in me again. I love my wife. And I think I might love Yoo-mi too.
Late afternoon. Traffic is at a standstill. Not on the road, but in the parking lot. Annoying. Looking to the right, I spot the Japanese restaurant I often go to. I turn into the lot and park. [Honey, I’ll eat before coming home. The road’s a parking lot.] I send the message to my wife, light a cigarette, and exhale smoke while staring at the road-turned-parking-lot beside me.
[Ding] A message arrives. It’s not from my wife. The number isn’t saved.
[Who is this?]
[It’s me, from next door.]
[Yoo-mi?]
[Yes.]
My heart pounds. Since that day we haven’t made eye contact or spoken, even at the drinking party. She was the one who said we should never see each other again. Excitement and fear surge together.
[What’s going on?] I type, then delete it. Asking a woman I basically assaulted “what’s going on” feels wrong. I don’t know what to say. Her next message doesn’t come. I pace in front of the restaurant entrance. Less than a minute feels endless. Finally her reply arrives.
[Do you have time today?]
[Yes.]
More silence. I wish she’d just call. It’s frustrating.
[Su-heon, did you finish work?]
[Yes.]
Still nothing. I send first, unable to stand the wait.
[Is there something you want to say?]
[Yes.]
[I was just about to eat. Would you like to come out?]
[I want to talk with you.]
[I’m alone. My husband is at home. Please come out. I’m at—]
I go inside, order for two, and set the table. A message from my wife arrives. [Okay. What are you eating?]
[Just grabbing some sushi before heading home.]
[Pack some for me too. Kiss.]
[Got it.]
About thirty minutes later, Yoo-mi walks into the restaurant.
“You got here fast.”
“Yes. The subway is quick.”
“Right. Maybe I should sell my car and take the subway too, haha.”
The atmosphere is awkward. Even my forced hearty laugh and her expressionless replies hang in the air as we silently move our chopsticks for a while.
“Yoo-mi.”
“Yes.”
“Let’s have a drink.”
“Okay.”
Her short answer. Her still expressionless face. I wonder what words will come from those attractive, cold lips—terrifying, yet I can’t help wanting to know. We pour and drink small cups of sake.
“Um…” Unable to hold back any longer, I open my mouth. She stops eating and calmly meets my eyes. I freeze.