The Sins of the Private Swim Coach

My private swim coach grew restless.

He took advantage while correcting my form, beginning his wicked acts.

I tried frantically to evade him, but escape was impossible.

His sensual lips brushed against my earlobe, tickling me.

"Please don't harass a respectable woman."

"Right, one shouldn't casually harass a respectable woman. But are you one?"

He seemed to have seen through something—

Indeed, he was correct. A respectable woman? I was not...

---

When my husband told me he had hired a private swim coach for me, I couldn't help but feel a restless, itching anticipation.

And when I saw his photo, my heart turned into a sticky, damp mess.

What a powerfully built body.

His bare upper torso, muscles bulging, every line was absolutely perfect.

I swallowed secretly, my insides growing increasingly, unbearably moist.

I didn't dare unleash my wantonness right in front of my husband, but an irresistible impulse still drew me closer to him.

After all, he was still a man, even though his busy work schedule had long since ruined his physique, and his performance in bed was becoming increasingly lackluster.

I wrapped myself around him, and his body instantly grew scorching hot.

"My sweet husband, you're hiring such a strong, tempting private coach for me. Aren't you afraid he'll get greedy and devour me completely?"

My husband was still handsome.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, his hands roaming over me, setting fires everywhere they touched.

He knew my body was easily stimulated.

He was doing this on purpose.

"Of course I'm afraid. But I want to test you. I want to see if you can resist such a fresh, powerful, nearly perfect body."

"And if I can resist?"

"I'll reward you with a mansion."

"And if I can't?"

"Then I'll punish you. Punish you—" He deliberately paused, his eyes filled with lust. "Do you want to know how I'll punish you?"

My arms tightened around him. "Of course I do. But I'm also scared. Your punishments are too cruel. My delicate little body couldn't possibly handle it."

This was the kind of "wordplay" my husband and I often engaged in.

We used such talk to fantasize about all sorts of depraved scenarios, then snuggled together, reveling in it.

His large hands continued their wanton "pillaging" across my body.

I couldn't stop him.

First, I was his exclusive property.

Second, this feeling was driving me to a mindless, euphoric bliss.

"Do you want to know? How I'll punish you?" He continued to tease me with his words.

Even the scent from his mouth seemed filled with an aphrodisiacal allure.

"Of course I do. But I'm afraid. It's so conflicting. The more conflicted I feel, the hotter my body gets. Please, tell me quickly."

"I will—" He deliberately slowed his speech, pausing again. "If you fail this test, I'll give you an even greater challenge. I'll hire several more top-tier swim coaches for you. We'll continue to test your endurance in the pool until the day you can finally resist. Only then will the game end."

"What if I can never resist?"

"Then the game will never end."

I punched his chest. "Such a wicked husband. You're clearly trying to drive me insane."

He knew me too well.

He was intimately familiar with every sensitive spot on my body.

"Don't worry. A woman like you might be even more delicious once she's gone mad. Relax, my little treasure. You'll still be my precious, even if you're insane."

His words set my entire body ablaze, like the moment before a nuclear explosion.