We walked out the gate, heading home, and I already knew Lina wasn't going to let it slide. She turned to me with that damn look—half innocent, half mischief—eyebrows raised, lips curling up like she'd caught something fun.
"So... where had you been?" she asked, voice light but teasing. "Both of you vanished at the same time. Should I be suspicious?"
I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Lina..."
She laughed, bumping her shoulder into mine. "I'm just asking. I mean, you were gone for a while. And when I saw you come back... you looked a little flushed, if you ask me."
"You are imagining things. I was just throwing trash, that's it," I muttered.
But even as I said it, I felt it. My voice didn't sound firm.
Lina smirked. "Trash, huh? I mean, its alright if you don't want to tell me."
I gave her a look. "Lina—"
She cut me off. "Don't lie. I saw the way he looked at you. His eyes were all over you the whole time."
"Rea—" I froze, the word slipping out before I even realized it. My mouth shut instantly.
Lina smirked, catching it right away. "Oh? Look at you. Getting curious now, aren't you? Want me to tell you more?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I swear, there was this one moment he was standing behind you, and his hand was... kinda near his crotch. But hey, maybe I misunderstood, who knows..."
I stopped in my tracks for a second, heartbeat skipping. My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
She laughed louder, clearly loving the reaction. "See? Look at your face. You're all red again."
"I am not," I mumbled, walking a little faster.
But she followed right beside me, relentless. "You didn't deny it, though. Come on, admit it... it felt kinda nice, didn't it? Having someone else look at you. Someone who's not your husband."
My breath hitched. The flutter in my stomach was back. No, not just fluttering—twisting, tightening. And she was right. That was exactly what made it feel so wrong and so exciting.
She leaned in closer. "God, you're enjoying this. Look at you. I've teased you before, and you always shut me up. Now you're all quiet and weirdly flushed. Don't tell me the housewife's getting a little wild?"
She was right. Before, I would brush her off without a second thought. I never let her words get to me. But now, I wasn't sure why they were starting to stick. Was it the thrill? The idea of being teased about a man who wasn't my husband?
Mustering up some courage "Shut up," I said under my breath, but it came out soft. Not even convincing.
Because part of me didn't want her to stop.
Lina grinned like she could see straight through me. "Mmm. I knew it. Knew there was something going on. You're acting different. More... distracted. And he's definitely into you.
I looked away, chest tight. I didn't want to admit anything. Not even to myself.
But she wasn't wrong.
And that's what made her teasing so much worse. So much better.
It was the way she spoke about him, not my husband. The way she whispered dirty little guesses in my ear. The way it stirred something deep in my gut, like I was being exposed—like someone had caught me doing something I wasn't even supposed to want.
I hated it.
But I also wanted more.
She nudged me again, smirking. "So? Still want to tell me nothing happened?"
I replied, "Hmm, do you intend to follow me all the way into my house?" I gave her a look. "And please, don't get any weird ideas. I'm not responding because I know you wouldn't listen anyway."
She gave a playful smirk. "Surrre, Ms. Innocent."
Ms. Innocent…
Those words rang in my ear like a bell. I bit my lip without even realizing it.
It felt good. Strangely good. Not because it was true, but maybe because it wasn't.
Inside the house, I was met with silence. The usual, he would be working in his workroom. I walked in slowly, took off my shoes, and dropped lunch in his room like I always did. He didn't say much. Maybe he sensed something off. Or maybe I was just too wrapped up in my own head to notice anything else.
I tried to go about the usual routine, but my mind wasn't cooperating.
Forty-seven.
That number kept echoing in my brain like it had been carved there. Forty-seven used condoms in two weeks. No, that couldn't be real. It sounds ridiculous. No, not just ridiculous—impossible. He had to be joking. That had to be his idea of humor. Maybe just something he said to get under my skin. But... was it really?
Because the moment I opened that bin, the smell, the sight, the sheer amount… it wasn't a joke. It had been real. Even if not exactly forty-seven, there were many. Too many. It hadn't been a prank. That was the worst part. I saw them. Dozens. All tied, used, full. I felt nauseous, but not entirely in a bad way. My throat tightened and I swallowed slowly, my mind scrambling for logic.
Who were they all for?
That married woman? The one I'd seen before? Was she the one being filled day after day? My chest felt tight at the thought. Was she okay? How could someone handle that kind of pounding? That much sex in such a short time?
I couldn't wrap my head around it. It didn't make sense.
Two weeks. Fourteen days. That meant at least three times a day. Every single day. Probably more. Did she even walk straight after that? Was she begging for it or just... used to it now?
I caught myself breathing heavier. I stood frozen in the hallway, thoughts stacking on top of each other, building something I didn't want to name.
Could I take that?
The question hit me out of nowhere. My body tensed. I didn't mean to ask that. But it was there now, and I couldn't take it back.
No. I couldn't. I'd never even done it that often. Twice a week—maybe. Sometimes less. My husband was gentle, quiet, loving. But this... this was something else.
A completely different world. And the idea of someone being ruined like that and yet coming back for more… it sent an ache down my spine. A slow burn that made my pussy hurt. I shifted, pressing them together, hoping to smother whatever that heat was.
It was wrong. I shouldn't even be thinking this.
I turned quickly, went to the bedroom, and sat on the edge of the bed. My legs felt weak. I touched my face. My heart wouldn't calm down.
Stop it. Enough. My husband is enough. I don't need to know and I don't want to know. These thoughts—they don't belong here. I don't belong in them.
I climbed into bed and pulled the blanket over myself, forcing my eyes shut. A nap. That's all I needed. Just a short nap to reset my brain, to wash all of this away.
When I woke up later, the sun was already fading. I got up quietly and went to the kitchen, pulled out the paper with his recipe on it, and started preparing dinner. I followed every step. Measured every spoon carefully. Focused on the smell, the heat, the way the oil crackled. It was easier to focus when my hands were busy.
He took a bite and his face lit up instantly. "Wow," he said with genuine surprise, "seems like hanging out with Lina is really changing you for good."
I froze for a second, the words sinking in deeper.
Changing me.
Yes, it was. Just not in the way he meant.
I smiled, soft and careful. "Yeah… I'm sure it's changing me for good."
I said it playfully, teasing on the surface. But inside, the sentence clung to me. Echoed. I teased myself with it, let it roll around in my head like a secret only I knew the taste of.
Changing me for good.
I didn't know why it made my stomach flutter the way it did. Maybe because it was true. Maybe because I wanted it to be true. Maybe because the version of me that was forming… wasn't someone I could stop anymore.