Our Newlywed Date 2
The Pantheon had a way of driving people into the mire with astonishing cruelty and precision. In some ways, their meticulousness was almost admirable.
We hadn't even had a moment to catch our breath after the wedding—no casual clothes for a simple date, not a single outfit. Park Manager had "kindly" provided some "appropriate" attire for us. Mine was a plain-looking casual shirt, chinos, comfortable sneakers, and even a luxury watch. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I looked unfamiliar. The high-end brands were styled together seamlessly. True to their expertise in commodifying women, they knew exactly how to dress a person.
It felt effortless yet somehow upscale, and a smile and surge of confidence bubbled up naturally.
Then my wife, Lee Seol, emerged after changing. The moment I saw her, my jaw dropped halfway open.
She was Korea's top singer and actress. I'd grown used to her in dazzling dresses and provocative stage outfits. But the bizarre allure radiating from her everyday clothes now gripped my gaze more intensely than any gown ever could.
Was this for the thrill of defiling a newlywed wife, something exotic to offer the members? For today's "free giveaway event," the organization had prepared what they called the "Dongtan housewife look"—a gray long dress. Despite zero exposure, the fabric clung to her perfect silhouette, making it obscenely sexy. With every step, the curve of her hips and slender waist subtly revealed themselves. Poised on that precarious line between prim and sensual, she made me swallow hard.
She was dazzlingly beautiful, yet at the same time, she looked like a thoroughly calculated "product."
No complicated buckles or zippers—just lift and let it flow off, or hike it up. The organization's choice of stretchy, easy-on-easy-off material seemed designed for busy members to fuck her on a whim. Their ruthless professionalism sent chills down my spine.
But part of me felt a strange awe at their dedication.
"Kanghan, how do I look?" She grabbed the hem of her skirt and spun around with a twirl. The thin, stretchy gray fabric rippled along her curves, tracing her silhouette honestly. She seemed more amazed by the comfort than its sexiness.
"I've always worn these suffocating dresses or stage outfits pinned in place. This feels weird—like I'm wearing nothing at all. So comfy."
She touched her shoulder line and grinned like a child.
"It looks pretty, but... Kanghan, I don't look too auntie-like, do I?" She hooked her arm through mine and tilted her head. The soft press of her breast against my arm, the firm resilience of her body through the dress, made my heart sink.
"You're... too beautiful."
At my sincere words, she poked my side. "Pfft, sweet-talker."
"Come on, let's go! I have so much I want to do today."
She grabbed my hand firmly and led me to the shoe rack. The gray dress flowed smoothly along her hip line, swaying rhythmically from behind.
I'd gotten comfy luxury sneakers, but they hadn't given her any shoes. As if expecting it, she casually pulled a packet of sterilized gauze from her bag. She meticulously wiped the insole of those worn high heels she'd been wearing for five years. Then she sprayed thick perfume inside, right up to the heel.
"Kanghan, all set. Let's go."
Watching her familiar routine, my heart ached. Cruelly, for five years—except when playing "Star Seol"—she'd been forced to wear only that one pair of heels. The exterior leather and sharp heels were periodically replaced, so her shoes always looked like the latest trendy luxury items. But peel back that glamorous shell, and a foul stench lurked within. The frayed insole was soaked in countless men's semen and her own aroused sweat, reeking even through disinfectant and perfume.
I recalled her shocking confession from the bath last night.
"Kanghan, these heels... they're basically my personal cum bucket."
The brutal finale of the training shows, the "Cum Dump Show." Members who didn't win the right to fuck her lined up afterward to pour their loads into her heels. When they sloshed full, she'd lick it all up or sometimes drink it straight from her hand. It was torture at first, but now just the smell of men's semen made her body ignite with arousal.
She'd used them as the cum dump vessel just last night at the show's end. The memory resurfaced, but I said nothing.
"Yeah. Let's have fun today."
We stepped out the hotel's front door. The weather was perfect. No cars for either of us, so we thought taxi, but she wanted to walk. Even ride the subway. But a luxury limo waited ahead.
A woman stood by the limo door. Mid-thirties, maybe. Intellectual vibe with stylish glasses. Her crisp office look couldn't hide the massive breasts straining her shirt buttons—they stole my gaze instantly. Sleek black stockings hugged her long, smooth legs under a short skirt. She could've passed for a celebrity.
"Hello, Seol. And Na Kanghan. We'll escort you."
We were puzzled. The organization had promised no interference on this date. Then the window rolled down, and an old man eyed my wife.
Older even than her owners, those geezer VIPs. Seeing him, her eyes changed, her breathing quickened. But he wasn't one of her masters, as far as I knew. Still, she silently opened the limo door and slid in beside him. I had no choice but to follow.
The office lady got in, shut the door, and the limo glided silently away.
A movie-star limo interior—far roomier than expected. The scent of premium leather seats mixed with the woman's alluring perfume and the old man's musty age, creating a strange atmosphere.
The ancient geezer parted his lips, and my wife thrust her tongue inside like she'd been waiting. Just moments ago, clinging to my arm dreaming of a normal date, now her lips explored the fetid cavern of his mouth.
"Slurp... smooch..."
In the sealed space, the wet tangle of tongues echoed obscenely. Milky saliva dribbled from his mouth down her lips, but she lapped up every drop without spilling, swallowing the fishy fluid. Her ethereal face held a hazy ecstasy of submission.
The kindly-faced old man addressed me, his eyes still sharp despite his age.
"Hahaha. Surprised? You know the rules for today, right? The hotel you stayed at is my workplace. Hahaha."
Ah... right. The game had already begun.
After the sloppy kiss ended, my wife knelt before him familiarly. She pressed her nose to his crotch and inhaled deeply into her lungs. Even sitting nearby, his musty old-man stink pierced the nose—what must his groin smell like? I couldn't imagine the horror without gagging.
But her reaction shattered my expectations. No grimace at the stench—instead, bliss, like reuniting with a longed-for scent. Her shoulders trembled faintly through the thin gray dress.
"Hahaha, you haven't forgotten. Missed my smell, huh?"
He grabbed her hair roughly, and she moaned, burying her nose deeper. The more that vile odor filled her lungs, the more her wet eyes lost focus, filling with eerie rapture. Unable to hold back, she deftly stripped his pants.
What emerged was grotesque even to behold. Liver-spotted skin, paper-thin and wrinkled, dotted with filthy white fungal patches like scales. But my wife licked it like a child savoring candy.
"Slurp... smack... smooch..."
The quiet luxury limo, mid-drive, filled solely with the slick, lewd sounds of her lips. Astonishingly, the old man—frail enough to die tomorrow—stood rigidly erect in her mouth. A stark display of Pantheon's vaunted sexual medicine tech.
Satisfied with her service, he turned to me.
"I was one of Seol's early owners. Sold my shares to Pantheon head Lee Tae-sin now. Or rather... they were taken."
Bitterness flickered in his wrinkled eyes.
"Been with our Seol from the start. She resisted so fiercely at first—took real effort to break her. Now she crawls back on her own, the perfect slut bitch. Quite moving."
Lost in memory, he gripped her hair harder. His gaze on her, throat-deep on his cock, gleamed with mad possession. He regretted losing his shares.
"Still hear her screams when her father Lee Hak-su first raped her—the one she trusted. That noble gaze, now melted into such filth..."
As if responding, my wife slid under the seat, lifting his scrawny legs. His wrinkled asshole exposed raw. She plunged her face in. Wet friction sounds followed as her tongue greedily lapped the repulsive hole.
Age-sagged skin around it, liver spots and dark senile patches everywhere. His unique musty odor poured strongest from there, wrinkling even my nose from afar.
But entranced, she kissed the hideous ring, sucking it sloppily with her red tongue.
"Ah... good girl."
Reclined in the deep leather, eyes closed, he savored her rimjob. After an ecstatic trance, he gasped, remembering something.
"Ah... this old fool's been hogging it all. Seo Manager."
Instantly, the woman beside me knelt before me. Her white hand reached unhesitatingly for my zipper.
"What the—!" I grabbed her wrist in panic. As I pushed her away—
My wife, tongue-deep in his ass, lifted her head. Eyes glazed in masochistic bliss, she said,
"Honey... just for today, it's okay. Even if you cheat right in front of me... I'll watch happily."
Her bold permission, ass-sucking his filthy hole, stunned me. But those brazen, seductive eyes seemed adorably lovable through my rose-tinted haze. Slowly, I released the woman's wrist.
Her hot fingers unzipped smoothly. Unlike my resisting hand, my cock sprang free, rigidly erect.
"Hah... pervert..."
She side-eyed my shame, pouting teasingly.
The old man chuckled at our twisted dynamic.
"Kekeke... Na Kanghan. The bitch at your feet is Seo Hee-su, my executive secretary. Treat her nice."
Seo Hee-su's wet tongue traced my urethral tip delicately, shivers racing up my spine. With a lewd face, she deep-throated me.
My wife buried her face back in his crotch. The limo filled with their sloppy symphony.
Obsessively sucking me up, Seo Manager unbuttoned her straining shirt. Buttons popped free; braless, her massive tits bounced out resiliently. Defying gravity in perfect shape, their overwhelming size made me gasp.
She sandwiched my cock deep between them, starting a paizuri with their heavy bounce. As she rocked, it sank into the cleavage, sliding slickly. Flesh slapped wetly in the sealed space. Her pale, voluptuous breasts undulated like waves; each nipple graze on my glans sent electric thrills down my back. Her upturned gaze burned with bitch-in-heat service lust.
The pressure and heat blanked my mind white.
My wife Lee Seol was famed for her unreal tits on a slim idol frame—impossible volume without flab, contrasting her sleek waist. Community debates raged D vs. E cup, but I'd held them: perfect E, overflowing my palm with premium bounce. Unrivaled among celebs.
But Seo Manager's were at least H, maybe more. Not usually my type. Yet confronting this surreal heft, I finally got the big-tit obsession.
As I lost myself in those monstrous mounds, my wife—despite rimming his ass—glared back jealously, eyes sharp with envy. Even lost in masochistic old-man-stink heat, she still cared. My heart warmed. We loved each other—just in a viciously warped way.
But then, a lewd musk pierced my nose, shattering focus. No lube needed—the friction between her tits was impossibly smooth. The aroused heat intensified the scent. Soon, her breasts and my cock glistened white with sticky fluid. Sweet milky aroma laced with thick female pheromones ensnared my mind.
The old man smirked smugly at my captivation of his bitch.
"Ah... My pride, Seo Manager's breast milk. Seo Manager, let the precious guest have a taste."