Stories +18

The humid summer night hung heavy over the sleepy suburban neighborhood. cicadas buzzed in the distance, their drone blending with the faint hum of air conditioners. Kazuki, a lean, sharp-eyed college student with a reputation for mischief, leaned against the balcony railing of his cramped apartment, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he gazed across the narrow alleyway.

There, in the softly lit window of the house next door, was Aiko—Mrs. Aiko Tanaka, the married woman who'd been the object of his fixation for weeks. She was in her early thirties, her body a perfect balance of softness and curves, with long chestnut hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Tonight, she wore a thin silk nightgown that clung to her skin, the fabric translucent enough to hint at the swell of her breasts and the gentle dip of her hips. She was brushing her hair, oblivious to the eyes devouring her from the shadows.

Kazuki's pulse quickened. Aiko's husband, Hiroshi, was a dull, balding salaryman who worked late and paid her little attention. Kazuki had overheard their arguments through the thin walls—Hiroshi's tired excuses, Aiko's frustrated sighs. It was pathetic, really. A woman like that deserved more. And Kazuki intended to give it to her.

He'd been planting seeds for weeks. Casual greetings when they passed in the hallway, lingering glances, a "helpful" hand with her groceries that let his fingers brush hers. She'd blushed, stammered, but never pulled away. Tonight, though, was different. Hiroshi was on a business trip, and Aiko was alone. Vulnerable. Ripe for the taking.

Kazuki stubbed out his cigarette and slipped on a black tank top that showed off his toned arms. He grabbed a bottle of cheap sake from his fridge—a pretext, an offering—and crossed the alley to her door. His knock was soft, deliberate.

The door creaked open, and Aiko peeked out, her eyes widening. "Kazuki-kun? It's late… is something wrong?"

Her voice was sweet, tinged with nervous curiosity. The nightgown slipped slightly, revealing a sliver of creamy thigh. Kazuki's smirk grew. "Couldn't sleep. Thought you might like some company. Got this—" he held up the sake—"and figured we could share it. Unless you're too busy?"

Aiko hesitated, her fingers tightening on the doorframe. "I… Hiroshi's not here, you know. It's just me."

"Even better," Kazuki said, stepping closer. His voice dropped, smooth and suggestive. "A beautiful woman shouldn't be left alone on a night like this."

Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip—a telltale sign. She didn't say no. She didn't close the door. Instead, she stepped back, letting him in.

The living room was modest, cluttered with Hiroshi's golf magazines and Aiko's half-finished knitting projects. Kazuki set the sake on the coffee table and poured two cups, handing her one. She took it with trembling fingers, her eyes darting between him and the floor.

"Cheers," he said, clinking his cup against hers. She sipped, then coughed lightly, the alcohol warming her throat. Kazuki watched her, letting the silence stretch, feeling the tension coil between them.

"So," he began, leaning back on the couch, his arm stretching along the backrest until his fingers brushed her shoulder. "Does Hiroshi ever tell you how gorgeous you are? Or is he too busy snoring?"

Aiko laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "He's… not the romantic type. Work keeps him tired."

"Shame," Kazuki said, his voice a low purr. "If I had a wife like you, I'd never leave the bedroom."

Her breath hitched. She didn't pull away from his touch. Instead, she took another sip, her eyes flickering to his. "You're bold, Kazuki-kun. Too bold for your own good."

"Maybe," he said, sliding closer until their thighs pressed together. "But you like it, don't you?"

She didn't answer, but her silence was louder than words. Kazuki set his cup down and turned to face her fully, his hand sliding up her arm to cup her cheek. Her skin was warm, soft, and she leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut.

That was his cue.

He kissed her—slow at first, testing her, his lips teasing hers. She stiffened, then melted, a soft moan escaping as she kissed him back. Her hands clutched his shirt, hesitant but hungry. Kazuki deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past her lips, tasting the sake and her sweetness. His hand slid down her neck, tracing the curve of her collarbone, then lower, cupping her breast through the silk. She gasped, arching into him.

"Kazuki-kun… we shouldn't…" Her voice was a weak protest, drowned by desire.

"Shh," he murmured against her lips. "Hiroshi doesn't deserve you. I'll show you what you've been missing."

He pushed her back onto the couch, the nightgown riding up to expose her thighs. His hands roamed, greedy and possessive, peeling the fabric away to reveal her bare skin. She wasn't wearing anything underneath—perfect. Her breasts spilled free, nipples hardening in the cool air, and Kazuki groaned, his mouth latching onto one while his fingers teased the other.

Aiko whimpered, her hands tangling in his hair. "Oh… oh god…"

He smirked against her skin, trailing kisses down her stomach, parting her thighs with ease. She was already wet, her scent intoxicating, and Kazuki didn't hesitate. His tongue flicked out, tasting her, and she cried out, hips bucking against his mouth. He devoured her, relentless, his fingers slipping inside to curl and thrust while his tongue worked her clit. She was loud—louder than he'd expected—her moans echoing through the empty house.

"Kazuki! I—I'm—" Her words dissolved into a scream as she came, her body shuddering, thighs clamping around his head. He didn't stop, drawing out her pleasure until she was a trembling mess, begging him to wait.

But he wasn't done. He stood, shedding his tank top and shorts in one fluid motion, his erection springing free. Aiko's eyes widened, her breath ragged as she stared. "It's… bigger than…"

"Than Hiroshi?" Kazuki finished, grinning. "Good."

He climbed over her, positioning himself between her legs. She didn't resist—couldn't, not with the way her body arched toward him. He entered her in one slow, deliberate thrust, savoring her tight heat, the way she stretched around him. Aiko gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, and Kazuki groaned, setting a brutal pace. The couch creaked beneath them, the sound mingling with her cries and his low growls.

"Tell me," he panted, gripping her hips. "Tell me I'm better."

"You're—ah!—better! So much better!" she sobbed, lost to the pleasure.

That was all he needed. He fucked her harder, claiming her, stealing her from the man who'd never appreciated her. Her second orgasm hit like a tidal wave, her walls clenching around him, and Kazuki followed, spilling inside her with a guttural moan.

They collapsed together, sweaty and spent, her head resting on his chest. The room smelled of sex and sake, the air thick with their mingled breaths. Aiko traced lazy circles on his skin, her voice soft. "Hiroshi can never know."

"He won't," Kazuki said, smirking. "But we're not done. Next time, I'll take you in his bed."

Her blush was all the answer he needed.