After Junho Left: My Wife's Shame and My Deepening Desire
Even after Junho left the house, my racing heart refused to settle.
A sliver of anticipation swelled larger still, and the excitement climbed higher.
Suddenly the span of six years flashed through my mind.
Someone might call me a madman, but doesn't everyone carry their own private fantasy? If that fantasy stood on the verge of becoming real, anyone would feel exactly as I did now.
The day I first resolved to change my wife and put the plan into motion remained vivid as ever.
That night I took special care. To heat her body thoroughly, I caressed every corner of her. Soft fingertips trailed down the nape of her neck, followed the gentle curves of her breasts, and kindled fire beneath her skin until it burned hot. When I slid a finger between her thighs and gently rubbed the place already slick with wetness, a low moan slipped from her lips.
"Mmm..."
At that sound my cock swelled hard and thick. I aligned it with her pussy and, neither too fast nor too slow, slid into her, claiming the inside of her cunt. Her inner walls clamped tight around me, the scorching moisture wrapping my length—always addictive.
My shy wife preferred smooth, rhythmic thrusts over anything rough. Once I was buried to the hilt I gathered her close, cradling her head in both arms so she was completely enclosed in my embrace. From that position her soft lips brushed my collarbone and her hot breath tickled my skin.
In truth the pose was agony for me. With Mijeong's head cradled while she lay beneath me, I had to brace my upper body on both elbows. Supporting my weight that way, the growing fatigue of my own body pressing down arrived all at once. But that day was different. I rocked my hips slowly in the position she loved most, the one that brought her to climax fastest. Holding her head forced me to balance my entire weight over her; muscles strained and sweat beaded, yet the posture was essential—because it let me whisper straight into her ear.
"Ah... hah... nngh..."
As she neared the edge those trembling moans broke free. The moment her body began to shudder beneath me I drove my hips harder and breathed hot against her ear.
"Imagine it's another man inside you right now instead of me. His cock filling you like this, claiming your body?"
On the brink of orgasm she could only moan; she never answered. The pleasure flooding her must have left her too dazed even to hear me properly. Still I refused to stop. Right up to the instant she twisted and came, spilling soft cries, I kept whispering of sex with other men. Her cunt clenched around my cock and hot fluid spilled over me.
She showed resistance, yet a sharper, more electric stimulus than the ache in my supporting arms made me thrust faster. At first she balked, but every time we fucked and I asked her to picture another man, she gradually yielded. That was the kind of woman she was—once the atmosphere carried her away she simply swallowed her own will. So I deliberately built that atmosphere, making her moans grow louder, her body more sensitive, until shame itself was swept under the natural current of the moment.
When I asked which man she was imagining, she began to voice more concrete images.
"Haaah... a man... from a movie... nngh..."
Sometimes she imagined white men, sometimes Black men, sometimes nameless figures from pure fantasy. Her sparse imagination never satisfied me. Once she grew used to that, I moved to the next stage. Mid-thrust I started summoning the boyfriends she had known before we married. While my cock worked inside her I would become the man who had taken her first time and whisper,
"Imagine it's his cock digging into you right now."
Other times I became the boyfriend from her office days, squeezing her breasts as I asked. In the moment her body rocked with my thrusts I made the names of those old lovers spill from her lips.
Around then, once calling out her exes' names during sex with me had become natural, I finally confessed my true inclination. Contrary to my worries she took it calmly.
"The truth is, imagining another man holding my wife or girlfriend, filling her up—it turns me on."
"I figured as much."
She did not support the fetish, but she promised she would try to understand. After that I installed a Home Cam in our bedroom. I recorded our sex and showed the footage to Mijeong. Seeing her own expressions for the first time left her mortified. I deliberately shifted the camera angles so the clips looked as if they were being watched by a stranger. Then, without her knowledge, I began uploading those private videos to SNS. With her face mosaicked out, the vivid images of her breasts bouncing, her legs parting, her moans leaking free went online. Unlike the young couples who usually populated those spaces, there were people who went wild even for a middle-aged couple carrying the marks of age. Still, because Mijeong took care of herself she kept a better figure than most women her age. Yet the breasts that had inevitably sagged after childbirth and years of childcare, the soft flesh that clung to her waist and belly—no amount of effort could erase the gap with her twenties. That was quietly her dissatisfaction and her weak point. And yet people raved even over a middle-aged couple's body.
I was quietly enjoying the reactions when my wife discovered the secret. Furious at first, Mijeong calmed once I assured her that her face never appeared and no one could ever identify her. Of course in the beginning she lay awake nights terrified her identity might somehow leak. So I showed her the comments. Watching her pupils tremble slightly as she read the strangers' praise, I waited. After bearing a child, after the firm body of her virgin days had softened into something plush and full, her self-esteem had taken a hit. Those admiring words about her body slowly opened her heart. From then on I deliberately left the SNS account auto-logged-in on the computer. To keep the atmosphere alive I had to police any negative comments. Bolstered by the constant praise, Mijeong began reviewing the Home Cam recordings and phone videos with me. She checked the comments under the uploaded clips even more eagerly than I did. Watching her fingers scroll, reading the lust-soaked words of unknown men—that sight excited me more than anything.
After six full years she had grown bold enough to expose herself to strangers offline as well. That did not mean Mijeong actively savored the atmosphere. She still waited for me to propose something, then made a show of hesitation before yielding as if she had no choice. Yet once thrown into the situation she never truly hesitated; she simply accepted it as natural. Living that way forced me to keep gauging just how far she would go. Still, most of it remained mere fantasy I could not easily realize. Progress always stalled until some impulsive, unexpected moment forced a change.
Exposing her in front of the AS Repair Technician was the same. Looking back, the stagnation may not have been Mijeong's fault at all; it may have been my own lack of certainty. She always hesitated, yet in the end she accepted and accommodated every proposal of mine. Even if I threw her into a more advanced situation with the technician, she would accept the sudden event. This was different from mere exposure to another man's eyes. Flesh against flesh, shared breath, the invasion of the most private place—NTR I had longed to make real the moment I imagined it. Yet now that reality stood only a few steps away, fear and curiosity, worry and anticipation tangled in my head until I no longer knew how I would actually react when the advanced situation arrived.
Mijeong still lay on the bed. Whether from embarrassment or something else, even after hearing Junho leave she had not risen.
"How did it feel, actually showing yourself?"
My voice came out slightly cracked; the extreme excitement must have dried my throat.
"Just... embarrassing."
Mijeong lifted both hands and covered her face. The movement made her breasts sway gently.
"He looked like a decent guy."
My wife Mijeong said nothing.
"We were already thinking of getting a water purifier for the kid anyway. Might as well buy one this time."
"Okay."
Still hiding her face, she answered.
I sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to knead her breast. The soft give of flesh filled my palm; between that softness her nipple stood stiff and erect. Whether the arousal came from exposing herself to Junho or simply from my touch, I could not tell.
"Mijeong. You know my preferences."
"...Yes."
When she lowered her hands her expression looked a little tense. My hand continued to work her breast; so that I would not be hindered she folded both hands neatly near her belly.
"This time I want to take things a little further."