Pandora's Box (1)
"I'm going to sleep first."
When my wife turned her back, the smooth skin inside her white slip came into view. Lately my beloved Seung-yeon had been turning away from me more and more often when she slept.
I knew, vaguely, that the reason was me. More precisely, it was because of the thing between my legs that refused to rise.
How did we end up like this…
I wanted nothing more than to pull my wife into my arms right then, fling that slip aside, and knead her breasts. I wanted to gently lick the folds of her sex that would spill wetness at the first touch of my hand.
Fuck…
But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't have the courage to see the disappointment on her face, or the way she would bite down hard on her lip to hold back the excitement that barely managed to surface.
"First, you should check Seung-yeon's phone."
That was the very first solution proposed by my Neto teacher, Lee Hwa-soo.
How much time had passed? The breathing of the woman lying beside me had grown even and steady. I carefully propped myself up and looked at her as she lay on her side; the soft mounds of her breasts rose and fell in a gentle rhythm.
I quietly picked up her phone, still plugged in and charging. The sudden glare of light made me hurriedly lower the brightness.
Hoo… Do I really have to go this far?
A wave of second thoughts hit me. Even while we were dating I had never once secretly looked through her phone. It wasn't only about trust between lovers; I had never felt the curiosity, never felt the need.
But why…
I felt a faint thrill stir in a corner of my chest. It was a little like the feeling of stealing a single piece of candy from the neighborhood stationery store when I was a kid.
I knew there would be nothing, yet some kind of anticipation was making my heart race.
"Hoo…"
Already a light sweat seemed to be forming.
My wife's wallpaper was ordinary. A photo of her holding flowers. It was a picture taken on some island trip years ago, her standing among the canola blossoms. The yellow flowers and her bright face suited each other so perfectly that she had sometimes used it as her profile picture. The white dress that fell to her knees traced every curve of her body without mercy.
In a photo whose year I could no longer remember, my wife was smiling widely at me.
Was she always this beautiful…
Fortunately, her phone had no lock screen password.
Of course.
She was a woman who kept no secrets from me. At least when it came to other men, her past had been simple and clean, and that was why I had been able to trust her.
Ah… Should I stop here?
Regret washed over me for no good reason. Digging through my wife's phone just because some strange man told me to? The urge to stop right there grew strong.
"You must follow my instructions."
His deep, thick voice seemed to ring clearly in my ears. He had given me the order with absolute certainty.
Ah, fuck it.
I immediately opened the messenger app on her home screen. Conversation windows appeared in the order she had last spoken with each person.
Hmm… Let's see.
My Love, Mom, Dad, little sister…
The top of her messenger list held only family, myself included. Ordinary housewife conversations and daily life filled every thread.
Whew. Of course.
Nothing special, just like I thought.
Feeling oddly deflated, I scrolled further down the list. Ads and spam messages, nothing that stood out—
Huh?
A familiar name suddenly caught my eye.
Jang-woo.
Jang-woo…?
The only Jang-woo I knew was that trainer. The one with the thick, bulging muscles and the wolfish eyes that always seemed to be fixed on my wife. For a moment the image of his thick cock shooting across her face flashed through my mind.
Their last conversation had been only a few days ago.
"Hoo…"
I felt sweet, sticky saliva gather in my mouth. For some reason, pressing that chat window felt delicate, almost dangerous. With a trembling finger I tapped the conversation between them.
Thankfully the messages stayed at an ordinary level. Jang-woo, in his role as trainer, sent diet plans and workout tips; she replied with thanks. Messages booking sessions, everyday notes saying "good work today"—that was most of it.
I slowly scrolled further down.
Suddenly I wondered what they had said to each other on the day he had come on her face.
This son of a bitch…
Jang-woo had been using that incident as an excuse to keep pushing at my wife. Thankfully the woman I loved had steadily pushed back.
Then, out of nowhere, a photo appeared.
What… what the hell is this?
The bastard had covered only his most important part with a towel while displaying his entire body—solid upper torso and deeply split thighs.
Why would he send a picture like that?
Her reply was even more ridiculous. She was praising his body as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Gulp…
Jang-woo was demanding a photo from my wife as well.
Hoo… fuck.
A curse nearly burst from my mouth.
There it was—my beloved wife's nearly naked body, fully exposed. The location was the full-length mirror in our living room. Holding the phone herself, she had captured her reflection: thin panties and a sports bra were all she wore. Her white skin, narrow waist, and the full S-curve of her body were laid bare. Looking closely, the sharp outline of her private parts was clearly visible.
That was it. Under the pretext of "management," Jang-woo had been demanding body photos from the woman I loved.
Was it something that could reasonably happen between a trainer and a client? Maybe. Yet a lingering unease settled in my chest.
Was it because of the memory of Jang-woo's semen smeared across Seung-yeon's face?
After that day she had continued sending him bare, explicit shots of her body. The problem was that Jang-woo sent photos of himself in return.
Why the fuck is this bastard sending his own pictures too?
In the photos he sent, he struck various poses that emphasized every muscle. Different angles, as if he were deliberately showing off for her. The thick cock bulging against the fabric made it clear just how substantial he was.
Before I realized it, the photos they had exchanged numbered in the dozens. Among them were even pictures from our everyday life together.
"Fuck…"
This one…?
It was the white dress she had worn on our private date not long ago. That day she had gone out without a bra or panties—and she had sent that outfit to Jang-woo as well.
Their conversation ended there.
I couldn't easily tell whether this was the talk of a trainer and his client, or of two people flirting with each other.
The exchange hit me harder than I expected. I had never once imagined they would share even casual, everyday photos like this.
A sudden new curiosity rose in me.
I tapped back to the home screen and opened her photo album. The album was neatly organized into several folders.
One of them caught my eye.
Ah…
This fucking…
Inside the folder labeled simply "Body," Jang-woo's photos were saved intact. My wife had stored every one of those thickly muscled body shots he had sent her.
Why? For what purpose?
She only needed to keep her own progress photos. Why go out of her way to save his as well? I couldn't easily guess what she had been thinking.
What for… Don't tell me…?
I shook my head at the thought that surfaced. I refused to believe she might have done something strange while looking at Jang-woo's pictures.
If she had… if she really had…
My body reacted faster than my mind. The image of Seung-yeon, face flushed red, staring at Jang-woo's photos while her hand slipped between her legs rose unbidden. A rush of blood seemed to gather at the front of my pants. The picture of her touching her clit while looking at him sent a wave of excitement through me that I had no words for.
Just as I was about to reach for my slowly hardening cock—
"Mmm…"
My wife stirred beside me.
Hoo…
I waited until she settled again, then turned her phone back on.
My heart was pounding hard and fast.
Was this really something that could be so exciting?
Following the trail of records left on her phone, chasing the flow of her thoughts, filled me with a tremendous thrill and arousal.
"Hoo…"
Before I knew it, my hands were damp with sweat.
Please let this not be Pandora's box. At the same time, a desperate wish rose in me that she was still the woman I knew.
I unlocked her phone again and resolved to dig through it, slowly, one piece at a time.
The night was long, and I still had plenty of time left.