Park XX (Male, 38)'s Confession 10
Was I seeing things?
When I looked at my phone screen again more carefully, my wife still had her eyes shut as if she were dead to the world. Outwardly, she really did look like she was sleeping soundly.
If she was actually awake, then just how long had she been conscious?
No—first I needed to confirm whether she was truly awake at all. There was always the chance I had imagined it.
While I was turning over ways to check, a good idea came to me. I decided to call my wife's phone. If she really was awake, she would react in some way—or so I figured.
I dialed her at once.
Bzzzzzzt.
The phone lying on the table began to vibrate. But even as the vibration went on and on, my wife just lay there with her eyes quietly closed.
I wondered whether she simply couldn't hear it—but the phone was close enough that she could have reached it with barely a stretch of her arm. If she were awake, there was no way she wouldn't know a call was coming in.
Bzzzzzzt.
The phone kept ringing. My wife showed no reaction at all.
I sighed. I really did imagine it, I thought, and was about to hang up—when she carefully cracked her eyes open into slits and looked at the phone on the table.
In that instant my heart started hammering like mad. Judging by her expression, that was absolutely not the face of someone who had just woken up. My wife had been awake. That much was certain.
After a moment's hesitation she lightly picked up the phone and checked the caller. The second she saw it was me, she chewed on her nail, clearly wrestling with herself. Then, still deliberating, she simply shoved the phone into the gap between the sofa cushions.
Like a woman who'd been caught cheating and was hiding from her husband's call instead of answering it.
Once the phone was hidden, she lay back down demurely and closed her eyes again.
I hung up and tried to put the pieces together. Exactly when had my wife woken up? Had she come to midway through Assistant Manager Oh's little performance—or had she been conscious the entire time? I couldn't get a handle on it either way.
But to me, which one it was hardly mattered. Whatever the case, she clearly knew what Assistant Manager Oh had done to her—and she was still lying there, calm as you please, pretending to sleep.
When he sucked on her breasts and fucked them between her tits; when he licked her pussy, shoved his fingers into her and made her squirt—there was every chance she had been awake through all of it. And at the end, of all things, she had taken his cock in her mouth and swallowed the cum he poured out.
She could easily have spat Assistant Manager Oh's semen out of her mouth. Instead she had deliberately swallowed it down.
What on earth had my wife been thinking?
Had she been interested in Assistant Manager Oh from the start? When he shoved his cock into her pussy, had she gotten so worked up that she clenched down around him… and was that why he came so fast…?
A thousand thoughts ran riot through my head.
As I've told you before, my wife and I had been together since we were college freshmen, and we'd married. She'd been a model student through middle and high school, with no real dating experience to speak of—and of course I had been her first. Unless she had been lying to me, I was the only man she'd ever known.
And that same wife had not only been finger-fucked by another man until she squirted—she'd swallowed the load he shot into her mouth.
Who, exactly, was the woman I thought I knew?
"Thanks for your hard work, Manager."
The moment I texted that I'd arrived, Assistant Manager Oh came down to the hotel lobby. We met in the smoking room and had a friendly cigarette together. Better than an after-dinner smoke, he claimed, was a cigarette after sex—and he pulled on his with real relish.
"Looks like you've sobered up completely, Oh."
"Sir? Do I look it?"
"Eat something good? Your color's better than earlier."
"Hahaha. Is that so? I snuck a little restorative snack behind your back, Manager."
"What'd you have? Share some with me. Good things are meant to be shared."
"Hahaha. Just kidding, sir. Just kidding."
Assistant Manager Oh laughed and chatted with me as if nothing in the world were amiss. He didn't look remotely like a man who'd just fucked his superior's wife.
I found myself wondering, briefly, how he would react if he found out my wife had been awake. But there are plenty of things in this world it's better not to know. Even between people who are close, there are always secrets you can't speak aloud.
For me, for my wife, and for Assistant Manager Oh, what had happened today needed to become something none of us knew about. That way, everyone could be happy.
Once we'd finished our cigarettes, Assistant Manager Oh and I went back up to the hotel room and cheerfully drank as if we were none the wiser. My wife was still lying on the sofa, asleep. And so, as if by unspoken agreement, we all pretended hard that we knew nothing, and spent the rest of the night that way.
As if nothing at all had happened.
"I've got a company dinner tonight, so I'll be a bit late. Go ahead and eat without me."
"Okaaay. Don't drink too much, though~"
After that day, my wife's clingy little charms multiplied. She seemed to talk more, and she was paying a lot more attention to her looks. When I heard she'd started going to Pilates—exercise she'd never done before—I was genuinely startled.
Against my original intentions, those shameless acts seemed to have breathed life into her dull routine. Privately, I welcomed the change. If the same filthy desires that satisfied me could make my wife happy too, that was two birds with one stone.
Even while I worked, I found myself turning over how I might create the next enjoyable memory with her. Finding a partner who suited my tastes, though, proved harder than I'd expected. Of course, Assistant Manager Oh was still watching for any chance he could get.
"Manager, when are you going to invite me over again? I miss Madam's cooking."
"Yeah, sure. I'll talk to my wife about it."
"Yes, sir! Looking forward to it!"
I felt a little bad for him, but it was all empty talk. For the time being I had no intention of inviting Assistant Manager Oh back to the house. What I needed was a new stimulus—a new face. I had to be patient until I found someone who would satisfy me.
I couldn't just hand my beloved wife over to just anyone, could I?
While I was lost in all these stray thoughts, the day slipped by. That evening's dinner was a rare full-department gathering.
"Manager, I'll handle the meat!"
Assistant Manager Oh stuck to my side as usual, fluttering around me without a pause. Being treated like a king felt good—but knowing all too well what he wanted made him look a little pitiful too. I needed some distance from his constant hovering.
"Department Head Park, let me pour you a drink."
So I offered a glass to Park Hyun-woo, who was sitting across from me.
Park Hyun-woo. Forty-five. Our department's representative lifelong bachelor, with a kindly set of eyes that left an impression.
"Oh, sure. Thanks, Manager Choi."
Department Head Park received my pour with both hands. True to a nature that never treated subordinates carelessly, he kept his manners impeccable even at a drinking table.
"Have one of mine, too."
"Yes, sir."
I downed the glass he'd poured me in one shot, and he watched me with a mild, pleased smile. It was the sort of smile that put people at ease just looking at it.
How was a man that decent still unmarried?
Inside the department there was plenty of talk—that he was a sworn bachelor, and so on—but as far as I could tell, it wasn't that Department Head Park had no interest in women. I'd clearly seen his eyes slide after a well-built woman when one walked past.
And that wasn't all. Even tonight, the table next to ours had women in short skirts sitting at it. Department Head Park kept glancing at their stockinged legs while pretending to drink. Especially when one of them dangled a high heel loosely from her toes and wiggled it, his eyes got even busier.
He played the gentleman, but Department Head Park was a man after all. Strangely enough, I found that side of him rather appealing.
"Department Head Park, would you like to switch seats? You look uncomfortable."
Just then Assistant Manager Oh, who had been diligently grilling the meat, suddenly spoke up to him.
"Huh? No, I'm fine, Oh."
Department Head Park waved him off, looking a little flustered, even flushing. When I checked the situation, I saw that whenever the women at the next table got up—to go to the restroom, for instance—they had to pass right behind where he was sitting. The space was so tight and the tables so close that they kept brushing against his body as they squeezed by.
"If it's inconvenient, you can switch with me."
"No, really, I'm fine. Thanks for worrying, though."
He insisted he was fine and refused to move. It was clearly uncomfortable—so why?
Watching him carefully, I figured it out and couldn't help a little smirk. As it turned out, Department Head Park was quietly enjoying the situation. Every time the women edged through that narrow gap, they had no choice but to press close against his back or the back of his head—and every time a thigh or an ass brushed him, he looked thoroughly pleased.
With so few chances to meet women, was this how he worked off his sexual frustration? I almost felt sorry for him, thinking how desperate he must be.
And as I kept observing him, I discovered one more amusing fact. There was another reason he didn't want to change seats—the phone he had been holding the entire dinner.
Department Head Park kept the phone in his hand, resting it around knee level the whole time, and the camera angle was pointed squarely toward the women at the next table.
If my guess was right, Department Head Park was secretly filming their stockinged legs.