30. Wife's POV [Part 2]

NOTE: This fictional story features only adult characters (18+) and portrays consensual interactions throughout.


I scanned him from top to bottom, eyes trailing over his frame. There were no hidden pockets I could see. Just to be sure, I held his t-shirt and shook it gently—nothing dropped out.

I let out a breath.

Then my gaze drifted lower.

His pants.

No way.

There was no chance I was going to check under the pants.

I'm not ready to cross that line, at least... not yet.

Still flustered, I looked toward Lina. "Hmm... so what would be the punishment?"

She grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Well, I won't tell you that—but I promise it'll be fun."

Fun. Coming from Lina, that word could mean anything.

I gave him one last, thorough look—eyes darting over every crease and seam, but nothing stood out. My heart was still racing, but I knew time was slipping away.

And then—

"Time's up!" Lina chimed cheerfully, walking over with a smug grin.

My stomach sank.

"So now," she said, dragging the moment, "there's going to be a punishment".

That word made my gut twist shamefully. I bit the inside of my cheek, my eyes flickering nervously between her and him.

She leaned in a little, teasing, "See? You should've checked him more thoroughly…"

Then, with a smug flourish, she reached up—and plucked a small, folded piece of paper from behind his ear.

What?

That's where it was?

My face flushed with embarrassment.

I slapped my forehead lightly with the palm of my hand. "Ugh… how dumb of me."

Lina burst out laughing, throwing her head back slightly, delighted.

"Oh my god, your face!" she giggled. "You were so serious, like you were defusing a bomb!"

I managed a nervous laugh, even though my cheeks were still burning. I had practically groped him like a pervert—and all this time, it was just behind his ear.

He suddenly clapped his hands. "Alright! Now it's my turn."

His turn?

Those words sent a tingle down my spine. I blinked, caught off guard.

I looked at Lina. She looked at him—then smiled.

"Oh? Okay, sure. I don't see why you shouldn't have a turn."

W-wait, Lina—

The words didn't even make it out of my mouth. I was too stunned, too slow.

She turned to me, eyes playful. "So? Are you up for it?"

I hesitated, mouth slightly open. But before I could say anything, she turned back to him and said, "Turn around for a few seconds. I'll hide the paper."

He gave a mock salute and turned obediently, facing the wall.

She walked over to me quickly, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and leaned in close—her breath brushing against my ear.

"Hmm… so where do you think would be a really safe place to hide it?"

"I… I don't know," I muttered, still dazed.

Suddenly, her face lit up.

"Alright, I've got a perfect spot," she whispered. "It might be a little uncomfortable, but I promise he'll never guess."

I raised an eyebrow, uncertain. "Where?"

She leaned closer, lips brushing against my earlobe.

"Inside your mouth."

My eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you serious?!"

"Of course!" she whispered, almost giggling. "Come on, we need to win this!"

She looked determined—like this was some kind of crucial battle.

With no time to argue, she handed me the tiny folded paper.

I hesitated, heart thumping, but then… fuck it.

I shut my eyes, took a breath, and slid the paper onto my tongue. The texture of it was dry but slightly soft. I pressed it up against the roof of my mouth.

It felt ridiculous and uncomfortable.

But the adrenaline buzzing in my chest somehow drowned out the hesitation.

Whatever happens, happens.

She gave me a sly wink and turned back to him.

"You can turn around now!" she called cheerfully.

And just like that, the game was back on—but this time, I was the target.

And he was going to search me.

My heart pounded harder with every step he took around me, each one echoing like a warning and a promise. He didn't speak, didn't rush. Just moved slowly, deliberately, circling me like a predator toying with its prey. I kept my eyes shut, trying to keep my breathing calm. The silence in the room felt louder than any noise—except the frantic thud of my heart hammering in my ears.

Then I felt it—his hand sliding into the apron pocket.

My body tensed instantly. The contact was too sudden, too charged. But his fingers… they weren't searching, not really. They didn't fumble like someone genuinely looking for a hidden object. Instead, his palm flattened over my stomach, warm and heavy. His touch didn't move with urgency—it wandered. It explored.

A tremble ran up my lower body.

He palm was pressing into me—not forcefully, but with just enough pressure to make me feel every inch of his hand. My stomach muscles clenched involuntarily. His touch was slow, grazing on my navel, and my skin prickled beneath the fabric. His hand drifted downward, inch by inch, tracing over the curve of my lower belly. I could feel my pussy clench in response, reacting to his nearness.

Then it stopped—caught by the edge of the pocket.

The pocket denied him access any further. But the sensation of how close he'd come… it left a shameful, restless ache behind. My body was reacting on its own, betraying everything I was trying to hide.

Lina replied from behind, "Guys, I'll be back in a minute, I have to take this call."
I looked at her like a statue, unsure, heart still racing. She walked off, leaving me alone with him. The room fell into silence.

He stepped closer from behind, so close I could feel his breath near my neck. "It's only fair," he murmured in a low voice, his palm placed softly on my stomach, "that I get to touch in your special places… like you touched mine earlier shamelessly."

His words crawled inside me seductively. My eyes stared blankly forward, but inside, my thoughts twisted.
Was he serious? Did he really mean that?
Touch me there…?

My heart thumped louder. I should stop this. I knew I should.
But… was it really that bad? He wasn't going to fuck me. It was just… touching. That's all. Just… touching. And I did it first, didn't I? I touched him—shamelessly, boldly, groped that fat thing in his pants like a pervert. He didn't even ask. I just did it.

So… maybe this was fair.

His hand stayed on my stomach, unmoving, as if he was waiting. Giving me a moment. Maybe even giving me a chance to walk away.

But I didn't. I couldn't.
God, I was so damn horny. My thighs pressed together without me realizing. My lips shaking.

I knew what was coming. I knew what he was about to do.
And I didn't move.
I didn't want to.

My mind tried to protest, quietly, weakly. But my body…
My body was humming, heat blooming in my pussy. I wanted to feel it. His hand. On my tits. His fingers squeezing, claiming, teasing…

It was wrong. But it wasn't sex. It wasn't cheating… right?

Just touching. Just… evening the score.

And maybe if I stayed still, if I didn't say anything, it would feel like I wasn't really agreeing.

Right?

Then one hand slid up and grabbed one of my tits—not from the front like most would, where the palm just smothers the nipple—but from underneath. His fingers curled under the soft bottom part, and his palm pushed it up, almost like lifting it from the base. He squeezed them hard from the bottom. That sudden pressure made the front part of my tit pop forward, all fat and heavy, like when you press up on something soft and the top just bulges out more.

It was such a weirdly dirty way to grab it—almost like he wanted to feel how full it was, how it sat in his hand. I gasped sharp through my nose, hips jerking forward before I could stop myself. I sucked in a sharp breath.
"Hmmph—"
The noise came out stifled, barely escaping my lips. My mouth was still shut tight, the folded paper tucked safely inside. I couldn't speak even if I wanted to.


"Psssh, don't move. Let me find that paper."

With my tit still in his hand, groping firmly from below, he grabbed the other one too, his fingers closing in and kneading it with the same roughness. My knees buckled slightly from the waves of sensation.

He began stretching them forward, pulling them as if milking a cow. It was humiliating and very degrading. Maybe this was the reason that made my cunt throb harder. The sheer force, the way he was handling them—pulling and shaping without care, like I was just a worthless thing—made me drown in ecstasy. It was fucking awesome. I was dripping, legs tight together, body shaking with need.

"Come on, stand straight. I won't be able to find them if you move like that," he said, voice calm, like this was nothing out of the ordinary.

Then he brought his thumbs to my nipples, pressing in them hard. He rolled them slowly—up, down, side to side—playing with them like they were his personal stress balls. Then he pinched them sharply, pinching just enough to make me whimper. My breath caught, head tilting back against his shoulder. My ankles lifted slightly, back arching as the tension built.

"Yeah… stand straight like that while I find them."

His other hand dropped to my pussy, over the skirt. He rubbed his palm over it roughly. Then squeezed—hard.

I twitched. My thighs crossed, almost falling on ground. But he kept me standing, holding me. My eyes were lost. Drool leaking out of my shut mouth.

"Oh, it's not here either?" he muttered. "Where the hell did you hide them?"

"Ah, so it was here all along," his words covered with amusement.

His hand came up to my face, palm pressing against my cheek firmly, tilting my head just slightly. I felt the pressure force my lips apart slowly. A soft gasp tried to escape me, but my mouth was already full. The warmth of his hand, the weight of his touch—it made everything inside me swirl.

My mouth opened involuntarily from the pressure, and I felt it—the slick trail of saliva that had built up now slipping out from the corners, running over his fingers. He didn't flinch. He just smiled.

"Found it," he said calmly, voice laced with something wicked.

Two fingers—his thumb and forefinger—slipped inside gently, gripping the soaked piece of paper. He dragged it out, slow, teasing. The texture of the paper had turned soft and pulpy, drenched with the wetness from my mouth… from how long I'd held it in.

He looked at it, then at me. His hand, glistening with my saliva, hovered between us.

Then—just to push it further—he brought those fingers to his mouth and gave them a slow, deliberate lick. His eyes stayed locked on mine the entire time, watching, reading my reaction, knowing exactly what he was doing to me.

And I couldn't look away. I watched, chest rising, heat crawling under my skin. That look in his eyes… the way he tasted me so casually—it made something deep in my stomach coil tighter.