Temptation in the New Officetel
Inside the brand-new officetel.
“A little dizzy, huh? I only just moved down. Haha….”
Even though the floor plan was fairly spacious, unpacked moving boxes still cluttered the hallway and every room.
“It’s hard for a woman to do alone, you know. I’ll come by later to help.”
“You really don’t have to go out of your way.”
“This is exactly when you should put a strong little brother to use.”
Sylph teased him about how strong he must be, yet her eyes kept stealing glances at the broad chest and shoulders that stood out sharply beneath Cayen’s thin T-shirt, and at the thick forearms laced with bulging veins.
“Want to check for yourself?”
“Huh? Ch-check how?”
When Cayen stepped closer and let a subtle pressure roll off him, the air in the room slowly shifted.
“H-hey, don’t mess around…?”
“How about this? I can lift it no problem.”
“Oh? Hmm…. You’re right. You are strong….”
Sylph had tensed, certain he was about to push her down. Instead Cayen deliberately picked up a heavy box and put on a show of strength. The disappointment that flickered through her was so sharp she almost sighed aloud before hastily swallowing it.
“Tomorrow’s Friday, so I’ll message you once I’m off work.”
“You’re not going to have a beer before you go?”
“It’s pretty late already. You use Picsta, right, Noona? This is my ID—follow me.”
Cayen pulled out the used smartphone he had bought second-hand. The moment the mutual follow registered, he grinned.
“I’ll DM you the second I’m done tomorrow.”
“Y-yeah. Get home safe. See you tomorrow….”
The door closed behind Cayen. Only the electronic beep of the door lock snapped Sylph back to herself.
“I must be out of my mind! A married woman with a husband, saying things like that to a guy so much younger…!”
The fact that she had invited him up to her officetel, and the wild misunderstanding of a moment ago, crashed over her in a wave of shame. She berated herself for throwing out such shameless coquetry.
“I feel bad for my husband… no I don’t! He said he’d call every day to check in, but after a month the calls dried up. When he does ring, it’s only to ask me to send some document. He didn’t even remember what day yesterday was….”
A flicker of guilt toward the husband posted overseas rose, only to be swept aside by a second wave of long-simmering resentment.
“…He said he’d DM me Friday, so if he helps I should at least buy him chicken.”
She murmured to herself that Cayen—who had lost family and friends to the monsters that poured out of the Gates and was still working so hard alone—was unusually decent for a young man these days.
“What am I thinking, toward a kid just trying to get by…? Maybe I should tell him I’m busy with work tomorrow…?”
Sylph stacked one excuse after another, yet none of them stuck.
“Hot… so hot… ah, it’s hot…!”
Simply recalling Cayen’s body made her temperature climb. She fanned herself, switched on the air conditioner, set her phone to charge on the nightstand, peeled off the clothes already clinging to her sweat-damp skin, dumped them in the laundry basket, and headed for the bathroom.
She twisted the shower lever, rinsed off the sweat in a hurry, then returned wearing nothing but a plain white cotton panty she had pulled from the drawer and collapsed onto the bed.
Once the chill of the air-conditioning had cooled her down, she rolled about for a while, then hugged a pillow to her chest and picked up the charging phone.
“You really love chicken, huh. More than that… you really had no friends at all….”
The numbers were so barren they looked like a brand-new account. Even a private profile usually had a few friends; the fact that she was his only follower made her heart ache for him.
Exactly as Cayen had intended, the maternal trap he had planted in her began to close.
While the desire to look after the young man she had only just met today quietly took root, Sylph idly tapped the most recent post—and a startled cry slipped out.
“Oh my, this kid… wow…!”
Cayen had photographed himself in the bathroom mirror, posting the rippling, muscle-packed body without a shirt.
The air-conditioning had left her skin cool; one look at that upper body and heat flooded back through her at once.
“Honestly, the world these days… even if it’s a private account… ugh, I’m going to have to say something tomorrow, I really am.”
She closed Picstagram, got up, switched off the light, crawled back under the thin blanket and shut her eyes.
Yet the moment her lids closed, Cayen’s body rose in vivid detail. Unable to stop herself, she opened the app again.
“…He’s got a great body.”
All thirty-five of his posts were variations of the same theme: his heavily muscled torso from different angles.
“Oh… he just keeps getting more solid….”
Scrolling back to the earliest photos, she became absorbed without realizing it, rolling from her back onto her side. Curled up like a shrimp, she soon began kneading her own overflowing breasts in an attempt to calm the excitement building inside her.
“…Even if my husband worked out, he’d never get like this.”
Staring at Cayen’s shirtless shots, she pressed her already-hard nipples and started comparing him to the husband overseas.
“…Now that I look, his fingers are thick too.”
The more she thought of her husband the deeper the guilt became; she bit her lower lip to hold back a moan.
“It’s not cheating… it’s not… I’m just… looking at pictures a little…,”
But the heat racing through her body had already swallowed her reason whole.
“He didn’t even know what day yesterday was, didn’t call once…. I deserve this too….”
Clinging to that justification, she began slowly rubbing the wet cotton of her panties with her middle finger, tracing the slit. As the damp patch spread, guilt melted away with every soft whimper, and her fingertip grew busy teasing the swollen clit that now stood out against the soaked fabric.
“Nngh… ahh….”
Her eyes locked on Cayen’s bare torso, her finger moved faster. The moans grew louder; the spine that had been curled shrimp-like straightened, and the thin blanket dangled precariously from her toes.
“Haa… haa….”
She tried to steady her ragged breathing, but the climax had been incomplete; the embers still smoldered. Falling asleep like this would be impossible.
“…Not enough.”
She could have simply let the air-conditioning cool her off and gone to sleep, yet she wanted to extinguish the leftover fire the same way she had started it. She slipped out of bed.
Without even removing the panties slick with her juices, she turned the light back on and began rummaging through the still-unpacked boxes, searching for the toys that had kept her company through two lonely years of her husband’s overseas posting.
Finding them among so many crates proved difficult. Mid-search, a better idea seemed to strike her; she turned as if entranced and walked to the vanity.
From the tote bag resting on the chair she drew out a childish, toy-like Magic Wand—the kind little girls might play with.
“Looking at it now, it’s the perfect size… slurp, nngh….”
She reversed her grip, wet the handle end with her mouth, switched the light off again, and leaned back against the headboard. Licking it as though it were a cock, she kneaded her rekindled breasts and let out lewd little pants through her nose.
When everything was ready she spread her legs and pressed the Magic Wand against the sticky crotch of her panties. The strand of saliva stretching from the tip touched her clit, and a needy moan mixed with wet sounds filled the dark, barren room.
Friday evening.
As promised I showed up at Sylph’s new officetel and easily hauled and arranged the heavy boxes she still hadn’t managed to move. Even the interior layout came together perfectly after a few of my suggestions and a couple of hands-on adjustments, yet by the time we finished the clock already read ten at night.
“You really worked hard today. If I’d been alone I would’ve spent the whole week just opening boxes.”
I answered the mix of apology and gratitude on her face with cheerful politeness, saying neighbors in the same building naturally helped each other and she had nothing to feel bad about.
More than that, the whole room reeks of bitch in heat.
Yesterday the shelf above the headboard had been empty; now a large diffuser sat there. A heavy fabric-softener scent rose from the fresh sheets, yet beneath it the mattress itself was saturated with the thick smell of a woman.
Did she spend the whole night rubbing herself to my Picsta posts?
I had posted them for exactly that purpose, but premature assumptions and moves could ruin everything, so I kept quiet.
“Ah, so that’s where this was. Better put it in the under-bed drawer.”
Muttering to herself, she turned her back and squatted to pick something off the floor. The loose gray banded pants she wore stretched taut over her ripe hips and plump ass, outlining the panty lines with perfect clarity.
Right then I wanted nothing more than to shove her onto the bed, bury my nose between those cheeks, inhale, yank both pants and panties down together, gently lick that damp pussy, and push the head of my cock inside.
“Oh, you must be hungry? Noona will cook something quick.”
She bounced up, her heavy tits jiggling, and headed for the kitchen, tying on an apron as she went.
“A single chicken would be plenty for me.”
I had expected at least takeout chicken on a night like this—never a home-cooked meal.
“I was going to order chicken, but that felt too cheap after everything you did. Just needs reheating, so sit tight.”
She pulled wrapped plates from the fridge one after another with the practiced ease of a housewife. Roughly twenty minutes later a generous spread was on the table.
“Is it to your taste?”
“Yes. This is the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time.”
“Come on, flattery will get you nowhere.”
“I’m serious. Another bowl of rice, please. No—fill a big serving bowl.”
I scraped the pork-heavy kimchi stew and every side dish clean against the heaping rice.
“Wow… you really can eat.”
“When something’s good I clean the plate.”
“When I lived with my husband he always complained the side dishes weren’t good enough.”
“I probably shouldn’t say this, but your husband sounds like a man who doesn’t know how lucky he is.”
When I praised her too openly she covered her flushed cheeks with one hand and waved the other in denial.
“It’s true. It’s really delicious. It tastes like… the rice my mom used to make….”
I kept my voice quiet and unexaggerated. The soft look that bloomed on her face told me the maternal trap I had set was working perfectly.
“Oh, you… honestly…….”
She let out an awkward little laugh, unsure how to respond. An uncomfortable silence settled, but I knew better than to break it first.
“Come over for a meal anytime.”
“If you’re only saying that because of what I said, it’s really fine.”
I had already cut off every excuse; she shook her head and insisted that wasn’t it.
“This place is too big for me to eat alone anyway. And having a reliable neighborhood little brother around makes dinner lively and fun, just like tonight.”
“I’d only make twice—no, several times—more work for you. And as you can see I eat a lot….”
“It’s fine! Noona doesn’t sweat the small stuff. So call me whenever. I’ll be waiting.”
Still laughing shyly, she joked that if I didn’t come she would keep calling and DMing until I unfollowed her.
“If you put it like that, I’m scared enough that I’ll have to come.”
“Good. Make sure you do. I’ll be waiting.”
The trap I had planted late last night should have taken at least a week. Yet here she was, caught in a single day.
As expected, nothing works better on human bitches of any age than the orphan angle.
I had figured a month at the outside; at this pace two weeks would be plenty. No—forget a week; this weekend alone might do it.
“Noona, tomorrow’s Saturday. How about a little neighborhood tour?”
“A neighborhood tour?”
“Yes. You just moved, so you can’t be familiar with the area yet. I’ll show you around. I’ve got no construction work for the next few days, so I’m free.”
The idea of spending the weekend alone with someone who wasn’t her husband clearly made her hesitate; her expression clouded for a moment.
Which meant I had to push even more shamelessly.
“I also want to try a little neighborhood date with a pretty Noona, so please hang out with me. Okay?”
“Oh my, look at this kid. Total player.”
The worried face lit up. She scolded that a woman her age shouldn’t be so silly, yet her eyes said the opposite.
Begging wasn’t my style, but buttering up a human-flesh onahole I planned to use long-term was nothing.
“Come with me, Noona.”
Putting on that pathetic, dripping voice was humiliating, but after a show of long deliberation Sylph finally asked, smiling leisurely, what time our date would be.
“I’ll come by around eleven. And I’ll do the dishes.”
“You already helped with the moving. I’ll wash—”
“I cleaned every side dish and emptied the rice cooker. If I have any shame I’ll do it. Just sit.”
“Well then… I’ll leave it to you~”
I stacked the empty bowls into the stew pot and carried them to the sink. Sylph, who had said she was going to the living room, was suddenly right at my left side.
“It’ll finish faster if we do it together. Here, give me the ones you’ve washed—I’ll dry.”
We stood side by side at the sink, divided the work, and finished. By then it was eleven at night. The water sounds that had filled the kitchen died away. I was about to say goodnight and leave so I could prepare for tomorrow’s real play when—
“Um… the beer we didn’t drink yesterday… it’s still in the fridge.”
Cheeks flushed as if feverish. Eyes softly wet. And those slender fingers that gently caught my sleeve, silently begging me not to go.
“…If it’s all right… want to have just one glass?”
Apparently we wouldn’t even need to wait until the weekend.