My Wife Was Wet
My chest pressed flush against my wife's smooth back, and the temperature inside the blanket shot up until it felt suffocating. Our sweat-soaked skin clung together, creating a sticky sensation, but my wife remained rigid as stone, even holding her breath. Without a word, I wrapped my left arm tightly around her slender, trembling waist and pulled her toward me. Then I reached out with my right hand, forcing my way between her tightly closed thighs.
"......!"
My wife's shoulders jerked violently upward. The space between her overlapping legs as she lay on her side was narrow, but I pried them apart without mercy and once again seized her hottest, wettest place with my fingers. The bare skin touching without even a scrap of fabric between us was bewilderingly hot, and already slick from the fluids left behind by that earlier "gap."
Squelch. Squelch.
Thanks to the thick comforter acting as a soundproof wall, those blatant friction sounds echoed cruelly only in my wife's ears and mine. She bit down hard on the edge of her pillow to keep from crying out, breathing raggedly. Because she was lying on her side, her labored breaths hit the pillow and dampened her cheek again. That humid air mixed with the pungent scent inside our tent-like blanket, arousing me even more.
My wife kept her hips perfectly still, resisting. But when my fingers persistently and slowly rubbed her most sensitive spot, her curled toes spread open and scratched at the edge of the blanket. Her body's instinct to clench her legs in defense and the raw stimulation from the unknown touch were waging a desperate battle inside her.
In the silence, I accelerated the violation. My wife must have been going insane with the desire to confirm who the man behind her was, yet she never turned her head. It was as if she feared that the moment she looked back, the depraved fantasy that she was being ravished by "that man" instead of her husband would shatter.
With every layer of my wife's modesty that peeled away, the love juices soaking the back of my hand grew thicker and hotter. Her pelvis, which had been motionless, began to shift backward ever so slightly toward my fingers, unable to resist the instinctive pleasure. Her thighs were still clamped tightly together, but the pulsing I felt between them had already slipped beyond control.
Hyung-nim's snoring continued to fill the tent with its steady rhythm. Using that snoring as my guide, I poured my own rough breathing into my wife's ear. Gripping her curled, trembling buttocks, I used my hand to directly confirm and stir up the obscene traces that someone else might have left while I slept. I sank endlessly into a vicious, tingling excitement.
The sealed heat inside the blanket had grown so thick that every breath drove the pungent smell of bodily fluids deep into my lungs. My wife remained curled on her side, pressing her sweat-soaked back—visible through her thin T-shirt—against my chest. Her lower body, exposed from where her pants had slipped below her knees, twitched and trembled whitely beneath my touch.
I briefly released the hand that had been gripping her wet, bare waist and moved it to the waistband of my training pants.
Slide.
With a faint rustle of fabric, both my underwear and pants slid down to my knees at once, freeing my lower body. The moment the warm air inside the blanket touched my exposed skin, an uncontrollable sense of liberation surged through me, along with a desire so swollen it felt ready to burst. My erection was already painfully wet from watching my wife's crumbling modesty from behind.
Breathing harshly, I pressed my fully exposed body against my wife's curled buttocks.
"......!"
Her shoulders trembled with delicate anxiety. The sensation was completely different from the rough chest of her husband she had felt through the thin T-shirt. This was the raw, bare heat of a man's heavy, scorching lower body pressing against her without a single layer of cloth. Instinctively sensing danger, she tried to clamp her legs even tighter, but the tip of my desire was already pushing into the deepest, most secret cleft between her buttocks.
I gripped her pelvis firmly with both hands and carefully nestled my erection into the valley of her firm, rounded ass. There was no need to penetrate deeply. The moment the thick, high-viscosity precum that already coated my tip touched her smooth skin, the air inside the blanket swelled as if it might explode.
Using the fingers that had just been stirring her secret place and were still wet with her juices, I slowly stroked up and down the outer surface of her ass cleft. Her slick fluids and the hot liquid beading at the head of my cock mixed together between her cheeks, creating a sticky path. I began to rub my erection slowly—excruciatingly slowly—up and down along that wet trail.
Squelch. Squelch.
The sound of flesh sliding against wet flesh was obscenely blatant. This teasing stimulation that circled her entrance without actual penetration only intensified my wife's confusion about exactly who was behind her.
"......!"
Her shoulders trembled with delicate anxiety. It wasn't direct penetration, yet the heavy, scorching sensation of bare male flesh sliding between her buttocks without any fabric in the way made her instinctively tense her thighs. But the tighter she squeezed, the narrower the valley between her cheeks became, gripping and squeezing my cock even harder.
I breathed my rough gasps directly into her ear while grinding heavily against the outer surface of her ass. Thanks to the thick blanket, those wet friction sounds didn't leak outside but instead drilled mercilessly into her eardrums. My wife buried her face in the pillow and curled up, but the suppressed moans had already escaped her control. Her labored breathing, hitting the pillow because of her position, once again dampened her cheek. That humid air mixed with the pungent scent inside the blanket, arousing me further.
She still tried to keep her hips still, clinging to her modesty. But every time my erection slid smoothly up and down the outer curve of her ass cleft, her curled toes would spread and scratch at the mat. She must have been standing on the edge of madness. Was this sticky play between her cheeks her husband's mischievous teasing, or was it the bold intrusion of the man who had seduced her outside earlier? By refusing to look back, my wife was gradually surrendering her consciousness to the pleasure of that terrible ambiguity.
Hyung-nim's snoring continued with its steady rhythm, leaving us to our own devices. Using that noise as background, I persistently rubbed my desire against my wife's wet ass cheeks. Feeling her body tremble ever so slightly, instinctively matching my movements, I sank even deeper into this quiet, sticky moment of depravity.
As the slick friction beneath the blanket continued, my wife's body was no longer under rational control. Between her curled, overlapping thighs, her clitoris—nestled in the deepest, most secret place—had swollen up hard. The most honest instinct hidden behind her modest exterior was reacting to this depraved situation, burning hot.
I perfectly synchronized the movement of my hips sliding along her ass cleft with my free right hand, which now began relentlessly attacking that swollen clitoris.
"Ah, ngh... haa......"
When my cock pressed heavily upward along the outer surface of her ass, my fingers flicked her clitoris sharply from below. When I swept my hips downward, my fingertips drew firm circles, grinding against that sensitive nub as if crushing it. Under this precise and merciless rhythm, my wife began to convulse in fine tremors that spread throughout her entire body.
Trapped in the sealed heat beneath the blanket, she was helplessly tossed between the heavy friction of male flesh sliding between her buttocks and the sensation of fingers tormenting her clitoris. Squelch. Squelch. My precum and her love juices had already mixed into a swampy mess between her ass and thighs. Every time I stimulated her in time with the rhythm, the wet sounds grew clearer, and her toes curled so tightly it seemed they might tear through the blanket.
She still kept her face buried in the pillow, but now her hips could no longer resist the rhythm of my body. When I pulled back, they followed with a tiny, regretful push. When I pressed close again, she accepted me with a moan mixed with shame. Her mind was still drowning in the confusion of who is this man, but her swollen clitoris and drenched lower body had already completely surrendered to this silent invasion.
Matching the rhythm of Hyung-nim's snoring, I grew even bolder, breaking the tempo into sharper fragments. I did not stop this vicious yet sweet violation until my wife's modesty was ground into dust and scattered.