My Wife Was Sucking... (3)
Almost the instant the sounds of their fevered lovemaking died down, Jisu's ragged breathing carried out from the master bedroom.
Then came a voice I had never once heard from her before — thick with a nasal, coaxing whine.
"Sangjun, why is your body so hot? You're all sticky with sweat, haha. Do you want to wash up first, my Sangjun?"
It was a syrupy, honey-dripping voice I'd never heard in our own home, drenched in that cutesy nasal tone.
Goosebumps crawled over me as I listened to my wife openly giggling and flirting like a girl in front of that young bastard.
"No, noona. You wash first. You look like you need it more than me? Haha."
"Hmm? Mmm... then let's wash together, hehe. Noona will scrub your back nice and good. Come on, get up, okay?"
Jisu wrapped her arms tight around the man's waist, cooing and simpering, and led him toward the bathroom.
The bathroom door clicked shut, and a moment later the sound of the shower came pouring out.
...Now's my chance.
Holding my breath, I pushed open the master bedroom door, left slightly ajar, and stepped inside.
The room still hung heavy with the heat the two of them had generated, thick with a fishy, musky, clinging scent of bodies.
Scattered across the floor like shed skins were Jisu's dress and cardigan, tangled carelessly with the man's clothes.
The moment I faced that naked wreckage, my heart pounded as if it would burst.
Even as rage sent the blood hammering up to my skull, the sheer unreality of having confirmed my wife's infidelity with my own eyes made me swell so hard below I thought I would tear apart.
As if hypnotized, I bent down and picked up Jisu's black bra from the floor.
The scrap of lace resting in my palm still carried a strange warmth, as if her body heat lingered in it.
Slowly, I raised it to my face and breathed it in.
It was the same underwear I saw in the laundry basket every day, but in this moment it struck me with a maddening, electric charge — as though I were touching the most intimate secret of some unfamiliar woman.
You filthy bitch... how turned on were you, taking this off in front of that bastard?
Having lost all reason, I frantically pawed through the fallen clothes, hunting for Jisu's panties.
I wanted to see with my own eyes exactly how soaked they were — how much arousal she'd leaked while sucking on that bastard's cock.
Just as I was rifling through the garments, imagining a panty slick and drenched, a flash of memory — Jisu's voice from earlier — stopped me cold.
"Surprised I'm not wearing any panties? I've been going around like this since this morning... just for you."
There would be no panties.
A chill ran down my spine at my wife's audacity — greeting another man with nothing underneath — and yet a filthy, prickling thrill shot up along my spine, sharp enough to make my crotch twinge.
Then my gaze fell to the center of the rumpled bed sheets.
On the wrecked comforter, right where Jisu's hips had rested, a vivid stain was clearly visible.
An opaque, whitish smear — evidence of what had seeped out from deep inside Jisu's pussy as the two of them fucked with violent abandon.
The moment I saw that shameless mark, the mixture of Jisu's organic fluids and that bastard's semen soaking damp into the sheet's fibers, every cell in my body seemed to freeze over.
Maddening emotions churned inside me like a whirlpool.
A grotesque impulse rose up — to press my finger into that sticky trace, to lift it to my nose and smell it — but the last shred of my sanity held me back: I couldn't bring myself to touch my own wife's infidelity with my bare hands.
In the end, my hand shook and shook in midair, and I clenched it into a tight fist and stopped.
At that very instant, the sound of the shower gushing from the bathroom cut off abruptly. The two voices fell silent as well.
Oh... are they already done washing?
Reality crashed in and my heart dropped like a stone.
A primal instinct swept over me — I had to get out of this room right now, before they caught me, and flee out the front door.
Just as I turned to run, a sticky, wet friction sound came seeping through the crack of the closed bathroom door once more.
Slurp, suck, schlick...
Along with the renewed, obscene wet sucking, Jisu's languid, coquettish voice leaked out from beyond the door.
"Wow... youth really is the best, hehe. Hard again already? Sangjun... ahh... schlick, slurp."
Slurp, suck, schlick...
My wife's blatant mouth-work reverberated stickily through the bathroom's natural echo chamber.
Even with my ears alone, I could see it vividly before my eyes — how furiously Jisu must be bobbing her head in there.
"Ahh... ngh, noona... I'm seriously about to lose my mind..."
That bastard Sangjun panted roughly, right on the edge of climax.
He was clearly completely undone by Jisu's devoted hands and hungry mouth.
Then, at the very peak, a thunderbolt of a word fell from his lips.
"Ahh, ahh... Hayul's mom... it feels so... so good..."
Hayul's mom.
The moment my daughter's name burst out of that fresh young bastard's mouth — inside the very bathroom where my wife was sucking on his cock — my mind flashed white.
Even as fury crushed down on my chest, a sense of depravity paralyzed every nerve in my body: my wife, the ordinary housewife and mother of my everyday life, was here thoroughly corrupted, reduced to a sex toy for a younger man.
A grotesque arousal that made my brain buzz surged through me, and my cock swelled until it felt like it would split my crotch open.
That instant, Jisu pulled off him and snapped sharply.
"You did it again!! Call me that one more time and I really will stop! Haha."
There was playfulness in her voice, but the tone drew a clear line.
From inside came the man's flustered, desperate scrambling, unmistakable even through the door.
"Ah! S-sorry, noona... it's just habit, I... I did wrong, noona. Please, just let it go this once, okay?"
As the frantic man clung and begged, Jisu pretended to relent, took his cock back into her mouth, and continued with those filthy wet sounds.
Schlick, slurp...
Before long, his breathing grew ragged — he must have been close to the edge — and another out-of-control cry burst out of him.
"Ah, noona...! Hayul's mo—...!"
"Mmph...! I said stop. That's your punishment!!"
Unable to bear it any longer, Jisu pulled off him with a sharp smacking sound, firm and final.
It was the penalty for breaking her warning.
"Ah... noona, please... I'm seriously right on the edge... just a little more, okay?"
The man's voice was thick with frustration and want.
Jisu burst into a firm, teasing laugh, gave his pleading no quarter, and I could hear her rinsing herself off under the shower.
...It's really over.
Listening to the man's whining and the sound of the water, I snapped back to my senses.
Stopping meant that the moment they finished cleaning up, those two would open the bathroom door and walk out.
My brain, frozen drunk on an unreal arousal, finally tripped the alarm.
If I didn't leave the master bedroom now, I would be caught red-handed at the scene.
I looked down at myself in a panic.
My crotch, swollen rock-hard as if in fury, was the last thing I needed — escape came first.
With my footsteps utterly silenced, I slipped past the corner of the living room and moved swiftly toward the front door.
My heart hammered as if it would leap right out of my throat.
With trembling hands I carefully worked the door lock and opened it.
Click.
Stepping out into the hallway on that faint sound, I let out a shuddering breath, leaving behind the low music still drifting from inside the apartment.
The phone sitting heavy in my pocket was proof of my wife's perfect corruption.
As I walked down the walking path within the apartment complex, the afternoon sun beat down mercilessly, and it felt like it was mocking my situation — a hollow laugh escaped me.
Why should I... be the one running away from my own home?
Anger and regret came flooding in too late, and my fists trembled.
I should have kicked the door open right then, grabbed that young bastard by the collar, and turned the whole house upside down.
But beneath that rational anger, my wife's lewd expression and voice refused to leave my mind, and my cock still ached, half-hard and throbbing.
Not the quiet wife I'd always known, but that unfamiliar side of her — panting like another man's plaything.
The very fact that I'd witnessed that scandalous scene filled me with a misery that made me grind my teeth, and at the same time with a heart-pounding, grotesque excitement.
Could such an abnormal feeling even exist? My family was being shattered before my eyes — so why was my body reacting to that filthy scene?
My head felt like it would split apart from cognitive dissonance and anguish I'd never known in my life.
Unable to bring myself to walk any farther, I wandered blankly around the apartment building, round after round.
I checked my watch — 3:30 already.
The thought of going home like this, of whatever situation I might walk in on, sent a sudden chill of fear through me.
I steadied myself and called Jisu.
Before the ringtone had sounded more than a couple of times, she picked up.
"Oh, honey."
Her voice was as calm as ever, but there was the faintest trace of breathlessness beneath it.
Naturally — she'd been in the middle of what she'd been doing just minutes ago.
I swallowed once and steadied my voice.
"Hey, Jisu. I'm heading home now — want me to pick anything up?"
"What? ...Honey, what's this at this hour? What about work?"
At my unexpected announcement of an early return, Jisu's voice wavered with unmistakable alarm.
A moment of silence hung between us like a wall.
"Ah, I wasn't feeling well today, so I left early. I stopped by the hospital — I'm on my way home now."
"Oh... really? Are you in a lot of pain? Hurry home..."
I ended the call, took a deep breath,
and finally opened the front door of our apartment.
As I stepped inside, Jisu was standing in the living room waiting for me, her face noticeably stiff.
She'd gone back to her usual plain-housewife appearance, but her eyes were wavering, lost and searching for somewhere to settle.
Inside the apartment, the veranda door stood wide open for ventilation, and the wind came rushing in hard.
Within that breeze, I caught it — faint but unmistakable — that same fishy, musky body-scent from the master bedroom, and the tip of my nose went cold.
"How are you feeling? Is it bad?"
Jisu feigned a worried expression as she took my bag from me.
Her despicable acting made my skin crawl, but I kept my poker face and glanced casually around the apartment.
The living room was still and silent.
"Just a bit of a chill. Where's Hayul?"
At my question, Jisu swallowed and answered haltingly, as if groping for the words.
"Ah... Hayul's in her room right now. With her tutor."
"Her tutor?"
"Y-yeah... it's been what, a month or two now? I told you we'd started it. Don't you remember? A second-year medical student, from the university nearby..."
A second-year medical student. Sangjun.
The instant the name flashed through my mind, my heart plummeted to the floor.
...So it was that bastard?
That young man who'd been pressing his skin against Jisu's in the master bedroom, calling her "noona" — who'd had his cock shoved into her mouth just minutes ago.
That bastard who'd been coming in and out of our house as my daughter's tutor — and in the gap while Hayul and I were both gone, right here in our home...
...he'd been mixing his body with my wife, on the master bed.
And not just now — months ago? This filthy affair had already been going on for months, inside my own bedroom.
"Ah... right. That's right."
Barely holding onto my reason, I nodded.
Cold sweat ran down my spine.
The rage surged to the crown of my head — I wanted to smash down Hayul's door that very second, grab that bastard by the collar — but at the same time, tucked in my pocket, my phone held the sordid video of those two, captured in full.
Jisu hovered anxiously, watching my face for any change, while I stared at Hayul's closed door — the door hiding that bastard — and inside, coldly, quietly, began to sharpen the knife: how I would carve up this catastrophe.