It had been several months since Haruki moved into Satomi's family home. By now, he and Kyouko had grown completely comfortable with each other—like best friends sharing quiet routines.
They exercised together in the mornings, sometimes watched TV in the evenings, and Kyouko was almost always nearby.
Tonight, Haruki sat at the kitchen table with his laptop open, scrolling through a few project files.
"Haruki?" Kyouko's soft voice came from the kitchen doorway.
"Yeah, Kyouko-san?" He looked up.
"You working?"
"Sort of. Nothing urgent, though. I already finished the last project and sent it off to my boss."
She smiled. "Good. Want a late-night snack?"
"Yeah, sure."
Just as she stepped toward the fridge, they both heard a car pull up outside. The clock on the wall read 12:39 AM.
"Looks like they're back," Kyouko said, abandoning the snack idea.
Haruki stood and followed her to the front door. Kyouko opened it to find her husband, Mr. Satoshi, looking absolutely exhausted.
"You two look tired," she said, her tone full of quiet concern.
"Yeah, Mom!" Satomi chimed in from behind her father. "One of our staff made a huge mistake in the project files, and we had to clean up the mess ourselves."
Satoshi sighed, loosening his tie. "I just want a shower and bed…"
Kyouko nodded understandingly. "Dear, do you want me to run the bath for you?"
"Yes, please…" Satoshi replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion as he stepped inside.
"Honey?" Haruki called softly to Satomi.
"Hmm?" She turned to him, her eyes half-lidded from exhaustion, looking like she could fall asleep standing.
"Did you already eat?"
"Yeah… Dad ordered food to the office."
"You should go shower before bed."
"M'kay~" Satomi answered with a sleepy pout, her lips slightly puckered.
Haruki chuckled at her adorably tired face and began shutting down his laptop, organizing the files scattered across the table.
"I'll come up in a bit," he said as Satomi shuffled upstairs.
Kyouko, who had been quietly watching from the kitchen, gave a small smile. Without a word, she turned and began preparing a warm bath for her husband.
What no one knew was that Kyouko was in heat.
It had been building inside her for days—a slow, mounting ache. She wanted sex. Plain and simple. She wanted to feel her husband's body against hers, his hands, his lips, and most importantly, the feeling of his penis inside her. She wanted to be held like a woman, touched like a lover, and taken like a wife.
She missed that— the warmth, the intimacy, the feeling of being wanted.
Tonight, she was waiting. Hoping.
She had prepared his bath, made sure he ate, and said all the right words. She wore something softer and lighter. Nothing too obvious, but enough that he might notice.
It had been too long since they had sex. And tonight, she wanted to be close to him again.
While Satoshi was in the bath, Kyouko stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the thin straps of her lingerie. It was the kind of thing she hadn't worn in years—revealing, soft, and designed to invite touch. No bra. No panties. Just bare skin beneath sheer fabric.
Her body was burning. Every nerve felt alive, hypersensitive. She applied a light spray of the perfume her husband once said drove him crazy. She fixed her hair one more time, even though it didn't need fixing.
It was need.
Real, aching need.
It had been so long. Too long. Her body had been patient, dormant, resigned to its fate.
But something had awakened in her recently. A hunger she thought had died long ago suddenly roared back to life with a vengeance that terrified and thrilled her in equal measure.
Her thighs pressed together as another wave of heat rushed through her core, making her breath hitch. The ache between her legs was almost painful now—a throbbing, insistent pulse that demanded attention. Her nipples hardened against the sheer fabric, sensitive to even the whisper of air.
This wasn't just want. This was two decades of suppressed desire erupting all at once.
She needed sex. She needed her husband to take her, to remember her, to see her as a woman again. She wanted to feel him inside her so badly it made her dizzy. She wanted his weight pressing her into the mattress, his breath hot against her neck, his hands gripping her hips.
The kind of desperate, clawing yearning that comes from being starved for too long.
She wasn't just hoping for it tonight. She was ready to beg. Ready to plead. Ready to do whatever it took.
Kyouko sat on the bed, crossing her legs slowly—feeling the slickness between her thighs as she did—back straight, chest forward, her fingers trembling as they brushed over her bare skin. Her heart raced, her breathing shallow, her entire body coiled tight with anticipation.
She needed to be wanted.
She needed to be ravished. Completely.
And tonight, she wouldn't sleep alone—not until she got what she craved.
When Satoshi returned to the bedroom, toweling off his damp hair, Kyouko was already waiting. She sat elegantly on the bed in sheer lingerie, legs crossed, her perfume hanging in the air between them.
"Honey? Still awake?" he asked, surprised.
"Mm~ I was waiting for you~" Her voice came out soft and sultry.
He sat on the edge of the bed. Kyouko crawled toward him slowly, kissing his cheek, then the side of his neck. Her hands traced gentle paths across his chest.
"Dear... you know... it's been so long since...," she whispered against his skin.
Satoshi let out a long sigh. "Haa... I'm tired, honey. Next time, okay?"
"But..." She tightened her arms around him, her body already aching with need.
"Please understand... I'm really tired." He lay back without waiting for her reply, turning away from her touch.
Kyouko's gaze dropped to the lower part of his body. Nothing. No response. No sign of arousal—just stillness.
She said nothing. She only watched as he pulled the blanket over himself and, within minutes, drifted off—snoring softly.
Kyouko sat motionless in the dim light, her body hot and unsatisfied, her heart growing heavier by the second. The warmth between her legs that had once been excitement curdled into silent frustration.
She stared at her husband, eyes glistening. Leaning closer, she gently shook his shoulder.
"Dear… please…" she whispered. "Just for a moment… at least push it inside… dear…"
No response. Only soft, steady snores.
She bit her lip, fighting to hold it in. A tear threatened to fall but lingered at the edge of her eye, shimmering under the bedroom light. She shook him again—harder this time.
"Dear… dear…" Her voice cracked.
Still nothing.
With a small, frustrated growl, Kyouko balled her fist and gave his thigh a light punch.
"Stupid old man…!" she hissed through clenched teeth. "Hmph!"
She turned away, arms crossed over her chest as she sat on the edge of the bed—half-naked, cold, and unsatisfied.
The perfume she wore, the lingerie, the smile she'd practiced in the mirror—all of it wasted.
"Stupid old man… limp bastard," Kyouko muttered under her breath, her lips trembling with irritation.
"You only get hard when it's about work or money," she scoffed. "Next time you want sex, just roll up your cash and jerk off with it. Hmph!"
She threw herself back onto the bed and yanked the blanket over her chest—not for warmth, but to shield what little pride she had left.
Kyouko tossed and turned for hours, unable to sleep. The tingling ache between her thighs refused to fade, her body restless with unsatisfied need.
With a quiet sigh, she slipped out of bed and swapped her clingy lingerie for loose pajamas—still without bothering to put on a bra or underwear. What was the point?
She stepped out of her bedroom and headed downstairs through the dark, silent house toward the kitchen.
As the coffee brewed, she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms under her chest, irritation carved into her expression.
"Stupid old man... bald bastard," she muttered under her breath, even though she knew Satoshi wasn't actually bald. "All he thinks about is work."
She poured herself a cup and took a slow sip, trying to settle her racing pulse. The warmth didn't help. Her frustration ran deeper than caffeine or sleep deprivation could touch—it was something she couldn't admit out loud.
"At least use your fingers or something...!" she muttered to the empty kitchen, annoyed and achingly unsatisfied.
Kyouko let out a long, frustrated sigh, resting her cheek in her hand. The coffee's warmth did nothing to settle her nerves—or her body.
She reached for her phone and began scrolling through short reels, desperate for distraction. Silly dances, food videos, pets doing tricks... nothing held her attention. Her thumb kept moving, eyes half-lidded, mind drifting elsewhere.
Still aching. Still restless.
She shifted her legs beneath the kitchen table, trying not to think about the tingling heat that refused to fade.
"Ugh…" she sighed again, whispering to herself, "I just wanted to have sex with my husband at least once…"
( End Of Chapter )