15. The First Outburst of Desire 2
“……”
My heart pounded fiercely.
My face flushed beet red with heat, and my cock swelled in my pants, straining to rise.
I had to force my eyes not to keep drifting to his hand lingering at my wife's waist.
I need to stop this now... I have to stop...
My reason screamed at me.
It berated me for what the hell I was doing to my beloved wife right now.
But the sticky heat rising from my lower body melted my mind into mush.
My breath grew ragged.
I desperately suppressed the agitation showing on my face and barely managed to speak.
“S-sir... I'm really sorry, but...”
“Yes? Y-yes?”
The two men's trembling exchange echoed in the silence.
Each word was tinged with excitement for one and guilt for the other.
But neither had the leisure to notice the other's emotions.
“I really have to use the bathroom urgently, so could you wait just a moment?”
Tension made me stutter midway.
Was that too abrupt? Did he see through me?
Was my acting awkward?
I knew in my head I had to play the part of a drunk, but excitement made it hard to judge my own state objectively.
A silence stretched on, one second feeling like an hour.
I couldn't look him straight in the face, so like a drunk, I blurred my gaze and kept staring only at my wife's and the taxi driver's necks.
I'm insane...!
What the hell had I done?
Regret and tension threatened to drive me mad.
I couldn't endure the creepy silence any longer and was about to glance at him when, at the edge of my vision, the taxi driver's mouth opened.
“Sure.”
“……!!!”
The short, curt reply—like something Jang Mansu might say—scraped at my ears.
The moment I heard it, chills raced down my spine.
I saw my wife, head bowed and limply slumped.
She looked almost like she was nestled in another man's arms.
I took one last look at her and fled toward the nearby bathroom.
Whoosh—
I turned on the faucet and stared blankly at the water.
“One minute short, three minutes long.”
Objectively, it was a very short time.
But plenty enough for him to get ideas.
My heart thrashed so hard it felt like it would leap out of my chest, heat flooding my head and making it impossible to stay sane.
Even splashing cold water on my face was like pouring it on lava—the heat wouldn't subside.
In the mirror, bloodshot eyes stared back first, then the image of a man panting with anxiety.
“How long have I been in here? Time to go out now, right? Hoo... hoo...”
I had to go out.
But my legs trembled and wouldn't move.
I forcibly dragged my feet, heavy as if weighted with iron, out of the bathroom.
I deliberately stomped loudly so my footsteps echoed.
There, in the distance, were my wife and the taxi driver.
“Ah~ sorry... did you wait?”
Was my voice shaking?
Did agitation show on my face?
I had no spare capacity left to assess my state objectively.
All my nerves were fixed on my wife.
At a glance, nothing seemed different from before the bathroom break.
My wife clung to the taxi driver like she was shouldering him, still slumped drunk, her disheveled dress top unchanged.
Just as disappointment welled up at the lack of change, I spotted it.
Huh...?
I nearly let out a voice.
It was such a small yet monumental change.
The taxi driver's hand was no longer visible around my wife's waist.
Wh-where... where did it go?
I was facing them head-on.
That meant his hand was somewhere my view couldn't reach.
Where... where...?!
My head spun wildly until one possibility halted every thought.
If it wasn't visible from the front, there was only one place.
My wife's back—or her ass below it.
“……!!!!”
A shiver coursed through my whole body; I nearly collapsed right there.
Pretending to know nothing, I forced my steps forward.
My slow, dragging feet must have looked like a drunk staggering.
And that seemed to give the taxi driver some conviction or courage.
As I passed them, a wet moan leaked into my ear.
“Eut...”
“……!!!”
It was my wife's voice.
What? Why was my wife moaning?
What could make a wife, merely slumped drunk and limp, let out a moan?
My head tried to turn toward the pair I'd brushed past, but I forced tension into my neck to hold it back.
Thank goodness the hotel lights were dimly set for midnight.
Otherwise, my neck—strained rigid, veins bulging—would have been clearly visible.
Tick.
I pressed the elevator call button.
The floor numbers slowly descended; the wait felt endlessly long, suffocating me.
Every nerve was on edge, attuned to the elevator's movement sounds.
My sharpened senses—especially hearing—caught something.
Swish, swish.
It was the sound of soft fabric rubbing.
Normal for clothed people, but we were just standing still, so no reason for fabric to rustle.
Yet it was rustling—from below waist level, for some reason.
“Gulp...”
My throat burned so much I swallowed dryly, and even that sound grated.
Right on cue, something wet layered over the fabric rustle.
Squelch...
I flinched!
A sticky water sound burst from behind me.
Hearing that viscous noise, all sorts of delusions swelled; my shoulders shook with agitation.
I couldn't stay composed and hurriedly tried to turn when—ding—the elevator doors opened.
“Ah...”
A hollow voice slipped out unbidden.
Am I disappointed right now?
I was horrified at myself for feeling disappointment at not turning around.
But I'd come too far to turn back now.
I boarded the elevator as if pushed from behind.
The taxi driver followed, supporting my wife, positioning himself behind me despite entering last.
“Wh-which floor... what floor was it...?”
My mind was blank; I couldn't recall our assigned room's floor.
Looking back later, the taxi driver must have taken my cluelessness as proof I was out of my mind.
And that conviction likely gave him the courage to molest my wife for sure.
Without thinking how I appeared, my trembling hand—shaking from tension—pressed a much higher floor button right next to ours.
Go-good. I bought time.
I'd naturally created an excuse to linger in the elevator longer.
As it began rising slowly, I shoved aside useless thoughts and focused every nerve on the two behind me.
I want to look back! Something! Isn't there some way?
I forcibly held my head from turning, anxiety gnawing at me.
My eyes darted everywhere for a way to see behind, and finally found it.
Ah! The elevator interior reflects the back!
True to a luxury hotel elevator, the glossy paneling mirrored the scene behind me like a glass.
Pretending drunk and unable to lift my head, I pressed it against the elevator wall.
But my gaze locked on my wife's reflection.
She remained utterly limp, unmoving, but the hem of her dress fluttered.
Impossible in this sealed, windless space—yet her skirt's edge kept rippling as if something writhed beneath.
Squelch, squelch, squelch.
From under the flapping hem came faint wet sounds.
Sticky, like digging in mudflats, they swam through the silence to flood my ears.
Recognizing the viscous noise again, I forgot to breathe and glared piercingly at my wife's reflection in the panel.
For some reason, her soft-looking thighs trembled faintly.
No—they were definitely trembling.
Trembling as if steeped in pleasure, as if the surging excitement made standing impossible.
“Hoo, huu...!”
I couldn't hold back the excitement and let out a deep sigh.
As if triggered by my voice, amid the faint sticky sounds filling the elevator, a delirious moan mixed in.
“Eut... uh, eung... mm...”
The sleepy woman's voice was unmistakably my wife's.
It resembled a drunk's unconscious whine from the heat, but it dripped with moist fervor.
Suddenly curious about his expression, I sneaked a glance at the taxi driver.
He was as anxious as me, repeatedly shooting me nervous looks.
It's fine. He hasn't noticed.
Seeing my head buried against the wall, he must have decided there was no more need for caution.
The taxi driver immediately pulled his head back, blatantly peering down at my wife's rear.
Like a beast devolved, even leaning back he couldn't see her ass well enough, so he brazenly hiked up her dress hem.
It's... wet...?!
Her white panties, exposed under the dress, were soaked at the front.
As if he'd been fingering her pussy since I went to the bathroom, they were drenched enough for her skin tone to show through.