Pandora's Box (3)
My cock was already straining hard against my briefs, the thick outline of it plain as day. A wet patch of pre-cum had soaked through the fabric at the tip, leaving a slick, sticky smear.
"Hoo..."
I had always known my wife must have been with other men before she met me. With a face that beautiful, it would have been stranger if men hadn't flocked to her.
But seeing another man actually touching her, kissing her, holding her—my heart refused to settle. Blood hammered through my veins like it might burst right out of my chest.
Fine. That much I could accept.
What I couldn't shake off was everything else. The fact that she still kept her ex-boyfriend's photos—sorted by year, no less—sat wrong with me. And that white bikini she claimed she'd never worn before? It showed up in the vacation pictures with him. The way her full breasts swayed in those shots was nothing like the woman I knew.
Why did she lie to me?
I had no way of knowing. Whether she'd simply wanted to look good for me, or whether there had been no real intention behind it at all—I couldn't swear to either one.
"Mmnh..."
My beloved wife slept soundly beside me, oblivious to all of it. After tossing and turning for a while, her breathing had finally evened out into a soft, steady rhythm.
"Hhk...!"
The moment I wrapped my hand around the rigid cock tenting my briefs, a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through my entire body. It had been a long time since I'd jerked off alone like this, without her.
Slick... slick...
In the quiet room filled only with my wife's breathing, the wet friction of my hand on my cock began to fill the silence.
The pre-cum already beading at the head smeared across my palm, stretching in sticky strands between my fingers.
Should I open more?
Even the photos of her and her ex alone had gotten me this hard. My cock was begging for more.
Her drive still held stacks of folders I hadn't touched.
Hoo... Should I really open them?
Curiosity surged up hot and sudden, and my hand drifted toward the screen—only for dread to pull it back. Those pictures of her with him had looked so genuinely happy. I was terrified of what they might do to me.
"Nnh..."
But my cock didn't care. Excitement flooded through it in waves, a tingling pressure that made my sphincter clench tight.
Fuck it. I don't care anymore.
The apple from the Tree of Knowledge was sitting right there in my hand. How many people in the world could actually resist that kind of temptation?
One hand still wrapped around my cock, I fixed my eyes back on my wife's phone.
"Hoo..."
The next folder was packed with more photos of her and that man. Wherever they'd gone, they'd clearly gone everywhere—restaurants and cafés all over the countryside, shot after shot of the two of them together.
In every single picture, my wife was beaming.
The smile I thought only I knew. The face. The little gestures. All of it, captured and catalogued in frame after frame.
"Fuck..."
The curse slipped out before I could stop it. Something dark and twisted was blooming in my chest—a thick, shameful heat directed straight at my own wife.
These were the looks she only ever showed me. The way she got shy in front of a camera. That particular pure expression she made when it was just the two of us taking pictures. It was all right there, identical.
"Haah..."
And then there was the way she was dressed.
When it came to clothes, my wife had always been fairly conservative. For all her voluptuous figure, she preferred loose skirts and wide-legged pants. Sure, she'd worn miniskirts and low-cut tops while we were dating—but once we got married, comfort won out every time.
But in these photos...
The woman on the screen was someone else entirely. In nearly every shot, her pale skin and every curve of her body were on full display.
"Hoo..."
One image in particular snagged my eye: her in a tight white V-neck sweater and a black miniskirt, black stilettos on her feet. The clinging fabric and those heels made her look devastatingly sexy.
Posing in front of his car, flashing a playful wink—she looked obscenely alluring.
Fuck. Even his car is a foreign import.
The gleaming luxury sedan drew my gaze and made my shoulders hunch without thinking. I couldn't help picturing my own car, the one that had broken down not long ago. I felt suddenly, crushingly small.
Fuck...
"Hhk..."
The next photo made my eyes go even wider. She was poured into a form-fitting ribbed dress that left almost nothing to the imagination.
What people call a "milf look," a bodycon dress—my wife in that outfit was sinfully provocative. She struck pose after pose for the camera.
In one, she even stuck her ass out and looked back over her shoulder, smiling brilliantly at him in a stance that screamed doggy-style.
"Haah...!"
A sharp, electric jolt ripped through my rock-hard cock. Sweat began to dampen the hand slowly working my shaft.
So she knew how to dress like this too.
The woman she'd been before marriage was nothing like the one I knew now. Not that she'd been wild or promiscuous—but to someone who'd always seen her as elegant and demure, the contrast hit hard.
"Hoo..."
The dress barely contained her. It clung to every lush curve of her body. In some shots it rode so high you could almost see her panties.
And in the photos she'd taken of him, the man was grinning ear to ear. He clearly loved the way she looked—dozens of shots from a single location, capturing her from every angle.
Her back. Shots from below. Shots from above that framed her cleavage. The album overflowed with teasing, suggestive images.
Fuck...
I remembered getting chewed out for taking pictures of her without asking. It had been a long-overdue date, and she'd worn a particularly short skirt. She'd looked so goddamn sexy that day I couldn't help myself—I started snapping photos.
Click.
The shutter sound made her turn around. The second she saw me, she launched into a full lecture. She hated having her picture taken, she said—especially on days when she was dressed that short.
So why was the woman in these photos smiling so brightly?
The betrayal swelling in my chest was already curdling into disappointment and anger.
No... these are just pictures from before she met me. Don't dwell on this. I repeated it to myself dozens of times.
"Hoo..."
I drew a breath and tapped the next folder.
"Ah..."
Another minefield opened up.
Video calls.
Recordings and screenshots of video calls between my wife and her ex. Something I'd never once done with her during our entire relationship.
I pressed play.
"Babe. This is the longest we've gone without seeing each other, isn't it?"
Her voice spilled out of the speaker, thick with playful affection. Bare-faced, not a trace of makeup, she lay on a bed in nothing but pajamas.
Ah... that place...
I recognized the room on the screen. It was the studio apartment she'd lived in alone before we got married.
"I know, right? Must be boring with Oppa away on a business trip."
"Of course~ All I do is think about you."
"Really?"
"Obviously!"
"You haven't been doing anything alone, have you?"
"Come on... I told you, I only need Oppa for that..."
Fuck. What the hell is she saying?
Her voice dripped with coquettish heat. She was smiling shyly, almost bashful.
"Then can you show me?"
"Show you what?"
"You know... like last time."
"Ah... that's embarrassing..."
"Hurry up."
There was a knowing smirk on the man's face as he made his demand.
"I can barely hold out over here."
"Still, it's a little..."
"Come on. I'm taking my pants off."
What...?
I couldn't believe my ears.
"Ah, don't..."
"I'm already this hard."
Then his camera tilted down to his lower half. The thick outline of his cock strained blatantly against his pants.
At their sudden boldness, the hand stroking my own cock froze mid-motion.
This is crossing a line...
"Why'd it get so big...?"
"Dunno. Thinking about you, maybe? Come on, show me."
"Haa... Just this once."
I swallowed hard. Sweet saliva pooled in my mouth and slid down my throat. My palm was already slick with sweat around my cock.
Carefully, my wife angled the camera downward. Her body came into frame—loose short-sleeved T-shirt and all.
Then, slowly, she began to lift the hem.
"Haa..."
I could hear the soft catch of her breath through the recording.
She pulled the T-shirt higher, then slipped it off entirely. Her pale, smooth skin filled the screen.
A black bra...
The black lace cups cradling her full, rounded breasts looked lewd all on their own.
"Tss..."
Watching her body appear so completely on the screen made my cock twitch and swell all over again. I started stroking faster, longer strokes up and down the shaft.
"This is so embarrassing..."
On the video, my wife was blushing hard. A faint flush of pink had spread across her cheeks.
"Hoo. You can see mine, right?"
The man, perched on the edge of the bed, slowly undid his pants and pushed them down.
Thud.
His pants hit the floor, revealing red briefs. Inside them, a thick shaft strained and twitched against the fabric, filling them to bursting.
Fuck...
Even at a glance, the man's cock looked heavy. I couldn't tell the length, but the girth was unmistakable.
"It got so huge...?"
My wife's voice trembled, just slightly, at the sight of it.
"Yeah. Hurry."
He bounced the heavy weight of his cock in his hand, his voice thick with arousal.
"It's embarrassing..."
She hesitated. The camera was still fixed on her chest—white skin and the full swell of her breasts laid bare.
"Come on... I'm dying here."
He coaxed her in a soft, almost pouty tone. At his plea, I could have sworn blue veins were standing out along my own cock.
Seung-yeon...
I called her name silently, and the desperation in it surprised even me. I could feel my eyes going bloodshot as I stared at the screen.
"Just a second..."
The image of her breasts wobbled.
Pop.
A familiar sound came through the speakers.
Thud.
Something fell limp and loose from her chest.