Several years ago, before I ever met Min-Ju, I very briefly dated this red haired girl who lived downstairs from one of my best friends. It was a fleeting thing, not important to either of us. Then, a few months later I found myself couch surfing on that friend's floor as I looked for a new apartment. As it turns out, the red haired girl downstairs had a new boyfriend. I found out because every night, as I tried to go to sleep, I heard them downstairs, echoing up through the heating vents. Fucking. Her quiet mewling whimpers punctuated by his breath, his groans. I don't know why this bothered me, as I say, she wasn't someone I was ever serious about and it was only for a week or two. But it did. Every night, it kept me up. This was before I became aware of my particular kink, and I'm sure you can't see any way in which this might have been formative for me. It bothered me, made me feel jealous over someone I liked but didn't really care about, and kept me up at night. But it was also hot. So I listened. He seemed to go on forever, and her cries were louder, more urgent than I remember when she was with me. It kept me up for several nights, and I complained to my friend and his girlfriend about it. I remember she found it silly. Bothered, but knowing I shouldn't be, though I've always had trouble letting go of a girlfriend, I even asked my friend Fiona, who fancied herself something of a sexual initiate, for advice. Fiona said to eroticize it. If it was upsetting me, I should eroticize it. So I did. Soon, nights found me on the floor listening with my ear pressed against the floor. I could hear them more clearly, and the occasional sounds of their conversation, though I could never make out words, was especially compelling. I even found myself at the vent, the soft cry of her pleasure echoing up as I touched myself. What particularly bothered me was the mornings. This red haired girl was frail. She had some kind of mild autoimmune disease that she said made sex in the morning unpleasant for her, so we never had that. But in the mornings I would hear them, too. She was giving him that which she had never given for me. And from the sounds, it was clear, too, at times that she was sucking him, another thing she claimed not to like.
Why do I bring this up? Because of Fiona's advice: when something hurts or makes you feel jealous, eroticize it. I'm not really sure that's actually good advice, but that's what I'm doing. Min-Ju is sleeping with a man who was the center of everyone's attention last night. He was toasted and praised. People fawned over him, and he clearly reveled in the attention. And he is fucking my wife. He's no rockstar or Basquiat, hardly, but he has a certain charisma and dammit he's smart and articulate, qualities that I know are what attract her to me. And he's fucking her. He's making her cum. It's one thing that another guy is inside her, but this guy is inside her. Aaaaawggg. So I eroticize it. And dammit if it isn't erotic, knowing this bull, this alpha is crowing in his conquest of my girl. He's been with her three days now uninterrupted. Whatever he knows or doesn't know about our situation, he knows he's been with her exclusively during that time, her pussy belonging to him.
The event was very successful. It was a great show and a great turn out. Min-Ju was beaming and proud, and I felt filled with pride for her. I was really exciting for her getting this opportunity. It was a stunning moment for her, and she looked stunning. She was wearing a dark blue cocktail dress that she and I had picked out a few weeks ago, a great color for her and a good mix of adult serious and sexy. But it wasn't the dress that really caught the eye -- it was the fact she wasn't wearing a bra under it! The outline of her breasts, her nipples -- not overtly obvious yet clearly visible. And she looked a-m-a-z-i-n-g. It was a while into the event before I had I chance to ask her if going braless was his idea, and her blush told me everything I needed to know.
For his part, I had to grudgingly admit he made a good impression. He wore a stylish blue shirt with sleeves rolled up under a sweater vest and bright tie. He carried himself with confidence and energy, and guests were swarmed around him throughout the reception. I'll cop to muttering some snarky comments about him under my breath a few times. The worst part was when he ordered me around. Min-Ju had set the stage, I suppose, by relying on me for a few last minute errands as the reception was just starting. I was happy to help, and among other things eager to have something to do to keep me busy. But there was a moment when he was talking intently with two other men and a woman about upcoming project in Korea he was working on, and he wanted to show them the pamphlet. Only half looking at me, he said, "Go bring me my bag. It's in the back room on the table." Then his hand was on my back, above my right shoulder blade, nudging me along.
I still want to say this was all within the ordinary realm of being a good host. Objectively, he was not being particularly rude. I was there to support my wife and if none of this other play were happening of course I would be happy to help out this way. But, as I said, eroticize, eroticize, eroticize. So as I dutifully went off to grab his bag for him, my back heated under the memory of his hand and I definitely felt myself the chastened cuckold being ordered off by the man who has claimed his place with his wife. Min-Ju watched me go. I would kill to know what she was thinking in that moment.
Min-Ju spent most of the night by his side. Part of the perk of doing the curation was she got to meet and be introduced to all the other artists and patrons and others who came to see him. And I kept mostly out of the way. It was her time for the spot light. Which meant I spent most of the time hanging out with her friends, especially one of her closest friends, Chelsea. Imagine standing there among her friends chatting about what a great opportunity this is for your wife and how much fun she's having next to him while you know that, even now, his cum is inside her bare pussy. Her friends are all happy, oblivious, chatting him up, and even then his sperm are swimming free inside her uterus while you are locked in chastity. What color was her pill this morning? Now imagine this: toward the end of the night, most people having gone by now, the two of them walk close together toward the next room of the gallery space and you catch their hands touch, and for a moment, their fingers curl together. And linger.
The night ended around 10 for me, but not for them. As the gallery was closing, I walked over to ask what their plans were. She gave me a hug and a kiss as I congratulated her. She looked into my eyes, searching. Then she said, "You should go on home. He and are are going to a little after party with some of his colleagues." She was dismissing me again. She looked in my eyes again, as if making sure I was ok. I smiled. "Thanks for your help today," he said, as if even he felt bad for me. "Have fun," I said, "You deserve it." She blew me a kiss. Then she was cruel. "Be a good boy!' she called after me.
I wasn't. I spilled again when I got home.
The good news is she's invited me over for a late brunch today. My first time back in the apartment.
