My Changing Wife — Chapter 82: The Wife's Secret Game — Part 1
The screech of the hidden camera filled the room like a whip crack. “~! Just…! If you keep acting cocky, I’ll shove a goddamn nail straight into your urethra! Can you believe this sister of mine is actually terrifying? She knows exactly how to shake her ass like a street dog in heat! Who the hell does she think she is, acting all high and mighty! Thud! Hahaha~ You know Dogi House and the hardcore club, right? Been there? Haha~ This sister of mine went to Canada and hit up those hard-core clubs a few times. Yeah, you see some guy tying up a woman just for fun and then… using her body? Watching that shit for real makes your stomach turn. Normal people can’t handle that shit without losing their minds. Don’t get all puffed up, you amateur-level perv. Go grab a video of some random girl and shove it up her… Thud!”
Yeonju… yeah, Hwang Yeonju. What the hell have you been up to in Canada, anyway?
A long silence stretched between us. Kim Jihun’s voice didn’t come through at all, so I guess the little shit was too stunned to answer back. Who could blame him? I was reeling myself. The shock of it all still sat heavy in my chest.
“And put some clothes on. If you keep leaving those things out like that, I’ll slice them into tiny pieces and toss them straight into a frying pan.”
Yeonju stepped out of the bedroom in a simple summer dress, and Kim Jihun, clearly rattled by her threat, disappeared for a minute to throw on the outfit he’d left in my room. After that the three of us settled on the living-room couch like a proper little family, popping in a movie and acting like nothing had ever happened.
Even while the screen glowed with explosions and car chases, Kim Jihun couldn’t keep his hands off my wife. He’d grope her full D-cup breasts every chance he got, sliding a finger right between her legs when he thought I wasn’t looking. Yeonju would catch him and squeeze his balls hard enough to make him yelp, slapping him with a quick, playful revenge that always left his face redder than the movie itself.
No more sex happened that night. We just slept. Before we crashed, the room stayed dark except for the bedside lamp, and Yeonju and I shared a few soft kisses while the other two pretended to sleep. After that I heard the wet sounds of her giving Kim Jihun a quick blowjob, then the quiet hum of his release. The apartment went still after that.
It was past one-thirty when I finally clicked the hidden camera off and climbed into bed. Before I drifted off I checked my phone out of habit, and the new message alert was still glowing.
That was Kim Jihun’s message. He had transferred the recorded footage from his laptop in the study straight to my inbox.
“Fuck… even after getting beaten he still acts so high and mighty…”
Kim Jihun’s arrogance was disgusting, but at least he kept his word. The kid had some kind of twisted honor.
I clicked open the email and downloaded the video. Even with the ceiling camera I had already seen it, but watching it again on a fresh screen felt completely different. The phone had been low and close, capturing the exact angle from behind Yeonju’s ass every time she rode him reverse-cowgirl style. The wet slap of her skin hitting his hips, the way her fat ass cheeks rippled and bounced with every bounce, the thick veiny shaft of his cock stretching her tiny pink hole until it was almost glowing red—it was all there in crisp, merciless detail.
Every time he pulled out, thick ropes of his cum gushed straight out of her gaping cunt and spilled in heavy white streams down her inner thighs, sticky and obscene. I had no idea how many loads he had already pumped into her; the new angle made it look like fresh, never-before-seen sex. My own cock throbbed back to full hardness in seconds. I squeezed it tight, almost painfully, and stroked until I couldn’t tell how many times I came. By the time I finally set my phone down, exhaustion had already dragged me under.
The next morning the motel owner’s phone rang just as the clock hit noon. I took a quick shower, then checked the hidden cameras again. Yeonju and Kim Jihun were already dressed up and ready to head out.
When the front door clicked shut behind them, I got dressed and walked the whole way home, savoring the fresh air. The apartment felt strangely clean and quiet. Only the fridge had a few extra groceries I didn’t remember buying.
I gathered every camera I could find and ate the simple meal Yeonju had prepared. Then I collapsed onto the freshly made bed and slept until evening.
Yeonju walked in just before six. She acted like nothing had happened—same smile, same bright voice, the same playful “Hey, honey~” she always used. We chatted like normal while she unpacked the bags. Her shopping was everything: extra groceries, clothes, and a new bikini that looked like it had been designed by someone who hated modesty.
“I bought a few things while I was out,” she said, holding up a long paper bag. “And I got you some goodies to treat yourself. You’ve been working so hard.”
I took the heavy bag and nodded. “Thanks. I’ll change real quick and put this away.”
She headed to the bedroom with the bag, and I went to the kitchen to unpack everything. Chicken, abalone, ginseng herbs, shiitake mushrooms—perfect samgyetang ingredients. I started simmering the pot while the sun dipped lower.
“Honey, just wait a little longer, I’ll make samgyetang for you~”
Yeonju bounced out of the bedroom wearing something I had never seen before. A tight tank-top bikini-style dress that looked like it belonged on a beach at midnight. The fabric was so thin and skimpy I could see the outline of her nipples clearly through the material. The deep V-neck plunged all the way down her cleavage, and the thin shoulder straps did nothing to hide her bare shoulders. The skirt part ended just below her ass, and the way it hugged her waist made her look like walking sex.
“What is that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “Did you buy that?”
“Yeah, summer’s here and it’s too hot to wear anything else at home. This is way more comfortable.”
Comfortable? It looked like underwear that had been dipped in paint. The thin pink fabric cupped her full breasts like a second skin, with delicate frills around the edges. A pair of strings ran between the cups, and the way the dress gathered everything together made her deep cleavage impossible to ignore. The back was even more revealing—straps that barely covered anything. If she bent over, the entire curve of her ass would be on full display.
“You’re not wearing anything under that, are you?” I asked, trying not to sound jealous.
“Nope. Just this. It’s so much better for staying cool.”
“Aigoo… it’s pretty, but… what if someone sees you?”
“Who’s coming over? No one, right? Are you jealous of my body? You’re starting to get bored of me?”
“No, it’s not that… I just… it makes me want you so much.”
Yeonju laughed, a bright, bubbly sound that always made my chest warm. “Kiki~ Just wait. I’m going to take care of my husband’s body now. Mwah~”
She pressed a quick kiss on my cheek and went back to the stove, humming happily while she stirred the samgyetang. The smell of ginseng and chicken filled the kitchen. I sat at the table watching her move, the skimpy dress clinging to every curve, the thin straps sliding down her shoulders every time she reached for a bowl. She kept glancing at me with that playful little smile, like she knew exactly what she was doing.
We ate dinner in comfortable silence, the hot soup warming us both. Afterward we moved to the bedroom. Yeonju didn’t say a word about sex. She just stripped off the tiny dress, folded it neatly on the chair, and climbed into bed wearing only a thin lace thong. I followed, still half-hard from the sight of her earlier, but the fire had gone out somewhere between the third bite of samgyetang and the time I pulled her close for a kiss.
We just held each other. No dirty talk, no desperate touching. She kissed my neck softly, whispered “Good night, my husband” in that cute baby-talk voice, and fell asleep almost immediately. I lay there staring at the ceiling long after she was out, the taste of her skin still on my tongue and the memory of that bikini-dress burning behind my eyes.
* * *
July melted into August. The heat got worse every day, and Yeonju’s outfits changed with it. When she left the house she wore short miniskirts and pantyhose that left nothing to the imagination. The necklines grew deeper, the skirts shorter, until one afternoon I watched her walk past the window in a sleeveless dress with armholes so deep the entire side of her breasts were exposed. She never wore a bra. Never.
At the company she still dressed like that. The few male employees who used to stare politely now couldn’t stop their eyes from dropping every time she bent to pick something up, or leaned over a desk, or simply walked past. Lunchtime brought the worst of it—men at nearby restaurants and shoppers in the mall openly staring, licking their lips, whispering. Yeonju never seemed to notice. She just smiled that bright, carefree smile and kept chatting with her friends like the heat wasn’t turning every man in a ten-meter radius into a dog.
Even on the quiet residential streets of Seoul, where open-minded people were everywhere, a woman dressed like that still turned heads. Especially at night, when the alleys were darker and the lights were lower. Yeonju never went out alone anymore. She always dragged me along, claiming she wanted “fresh air,” but I knew the real reason—she wanted to be seen.
By the end of July we had already started our long weekend at the beach with the girls. Hyejeong and Seong Huiyeon were dating now, so we played couple games and laughed until our sides hurt. Minhee came with her new boyfriend, and the four of us spent two days in the sun, letting the sea wind burn away the tension of the city. When we finally got back to Seoul the air conditioning at home felt like heaven.
But the change didn’t stop at the beach. After we returned, Yeonju’s outfits left the house entirely. Late-night walks in the park became a regular thing. One evening I told her I wanted fresh air, and she grabbed my hand, pulled me outside, and told me to pick what I wanted to wear.
I chose a simple T-shirt and shorts. She picked the same sleeveless dress, the one with the armholes that went all the way to her waist. No bra. No panties. Just the dress and her bare feet. The moment the front door closed behind us the night air hit her skin, and she sighed happily, pressing her bare breasts against the thin fabric so the cool breeze made her nipples stiffen.
We walked for almost an hour. Every few steps her breasts bounced freely under the dress. Once, when a jogger passed, Yeonju slowed down and let the man stare. She even tilted her chest toward him just a little, as if to say, “Look all you want.” The jogger’s eyes widened, then dropped, then widened again. Yeonju giggled softly and squeezed my hand.
That night she was extra affectionate in bed, but she never asked for sex. She just kissed me everywhere, whispered how much she loved me, and fell asleep with her head on my chest. I lay awake long after she was out, feeling the strange new heat rising in my gut—half jealousy, half something darker, something that made me wonder how far this was really going to go.