Park XX's Confession 8
Assistant Manager Oh began slowly stroking himself as he stood before my sleeping wife.
Even sitting there demurely, lost in sleep, she was more than enough to serve as his private fantasy.
But I hadn't left my wife alone in that hotel room just so I could watch Oh jerk off. Deep down, I was hoping for something far more stimulating to unfold.
As if he somehow sensed my desperate anticipation, Oh finally began to move. With his sweatpants still hooked around his thighs and his cock left hanging free, he shuffled awkwardly toward her.
I was dying to know what he would do to her next. But as he drew close, he hesitated, as if something had just occurred to him, and pulled out his phone.
For a moment I thought he meant to film her—but no. He was sending someone a text.
Bzzzz.
At the same time, a message arrived on the phone in my hand.
I checked the message and let out a quiet snort of laughter. This guy was thorough. He was carefully calculating the time of my return so he could head off any chance of me walking in on him unannounced.
Thinking of how wound up he must have been, I fired off a quick reply.
With his perfect safety net in place, Oh allowed himself a sly, satisfied smile. Until he heard from me, he now had all the time in the world to do whatever he wanted to my wife.
Reassured, he made up his mind. He shoved his sweatpants and underwear down in one motion, kicked them aside, and sat down right beside her with his hard cock bobbing in the open air. Still stroking himself with his right hand, he ran his eyes slowly up and down her profile.
She remained as she was—sitting neatly, fast asleep.
After a brief hesitation, Oh rested his left hand lightly on her thigh, as if testing once more whether she was truly out cold. Then he began to knead the flesh of her thigh in slow circles. At first the pressure was tentative, almost delicate—but when she showed no reaction at all, he grew bolder, working her thigh the way you might work dough.
Growing confident, he moved his hand up to her chest. His large palm settled gently over the full C-cup breasts hidden beneath her silk blouse.
"Whoa..."
A short gasp of wonder escaped him at the heavy, soft weight filling his hand. As if one hand weren't enough, he abandoned his cock and brought his right hand up as well, groping and squeezing both of her breasts at once. He worked them so hard that her upper body rocked from side to side under his grip—and still she slept on, eyes quietly closed.
Unable to hold himself back any longer, Oh started undoing the buttons of her silk blouse. After four or so came free, her firm, full breasts, still cupped in her bra, spilled into view with a soft jiggle. He pulled the shirt wide open so he could properly admire them.
The bra looked a size too small for her generous C-cups; the soft flesh spilling over the tops of the cups quivered at the slightest touch. Oh laid his hands over the bra and gave her breasts one firm, greedy squeeze, then another, staring at them all the while.
I couldn't make it out clearly on the phone screen, but I knew what held his attention. My wife's skin was unusually pale—so fair you could almost see the fine veins beneath it. With a too-small bra pushing her breasts together, those delicate blue veins would have been faintly visible across the flesh swelling above the cups. She looked so fragile, as if she might burst at a touch, and it must have left him utterly dazed.
Still staring, Oh buried his face straight into the valley between her breasts. That pale, faintly veined flesh was clearly exactly his type. For a long while he nuzzled and ground his face into her cleavage, breathing her in—then suddenly lifted his head.
He caught the edge of one bra cup with his fingers and tugged it down. Her nipple, freed from the compressed cup, peeked out into the open. At the sight of that soft, pink-tinged tip, Oh looked almost entranced. He stuck out his tongue and leaned in.
His tongue flicked lightly over her pink nipple. Under that wet, teasing stroke it stiffened, rising into a hard little peak—and then, like a hungry infant, Oh took it into his mouth and began to suck greedily.
Sssuck... sssuck...
Glossy with his saliva, the color of her nipple deepened gradually toward a purplish red. He flipped the other cup down as well and set to work in earnest, alternating between both nipples, sucking hard.
Slurp... slurp...
Each time he pulled hard at her nipple, her body gave a small, involuntary twitch—but she still didn't wake. To make the work easier, Oh pulled both breasts fully free of the bra so that the cups now merely propped them up from below. Her purplish nipples jutted forward as if offering themselves, and Oh's eyes all but rolled back. He kneaded both breasts with his hands without pause, biting and sucking at the tips without rest.
Sllluurp... pop...
After working her nipples for a long time, he finally lifted his head and glanced over her. Both of her breasts were slick and shining with his spit, as if someone had rubbed oil into them. He swallowed hard, took her by both shoulders, and carefully laid her down on the sofa. She settled onto her back with her legs stretched out.
Oh's hand swept once along her legs, sheathed in glossy black stockings. Then, like a dog, he buried his nose against them and began sniffing frantically along the gleaming length of both limbs—from the hint of thigh showing beneath her skirt, down her sleek calves, all the way to her small, neat feet. By now those stockings would have been thick with the sweet, faintly salty scent of her sweat and her body. He rubbed his face against her legs as he sniffed, lost in it.
Then his gaze locked on her little feet. Plump toes painted with red pedicure polish were trapped behind the soft sheen of the stockings. Without a moment's hesitation, Oh caught her by the ankle, lifted her foot, and pressed his face against the stockinged sole, breathing her in.
"Nnnh... haah..."
There must have been a sour, concentrated sweat-smell between her toes—but if anything, he seemed to welcome it. He nuzzled her sole as if washing his face against it, caressing her, and then abruptly took the toe of the stocking into his mouth whole. He sucked hard on all of her toes at once, the way you might suck on a piece of candy.
Sssuck... sssuck...
The tip of the stocking grew steadily darker and wetter with his saliva. My wife lay as peaceful as ever, toes held in his mouth, still sound asleep.
Once the whole of her stockinged foot was thoroughly soaked, Oh started rubbing his cock against her sole. At first he just dragged the head along the bottom of her foot; then he trapped his shaft between both of her soles and stroked himself back and forth. The slick, sliding feel of the wet stockings against his glans must have felt incredible—he let out a low, broken groan.
"Fuck... this is so goddamn good..."
After rocking his cock between her feet for a long time, he finally seemed satisfied and gently set her foot back down. Shifting position, he took hold of the hem of her skirt and began working it up toward her waist. Between her naturally full hips and how tightly the skirt fit, it wasn't easy—but with some grunting effort he managed to shove it all the way up.
With her skirt bunched at her waist, she lay there displaying her lower half to him in nothing but pantyhose. The perfect S-curve of her body made Oh's mouth fall open in open admiration.
"Holy shit. She's unreal. For real..."
In a rush he spread her legs wide into an M and buried his face against her pussy. Her thighs settled over his shoulders. He pressed his nose into the faint outline of her panties visible through the pantyhose and kept murmuring in raw, helpless awe.
Sniff... haah...
"This is it... fuck, that scent... I'm going crazy..."