Temptation in Exotic Valen

My Valenese neighbor dressed like a temptress—curves in all the right places, a delicate body topped with a pair of full, heavy breasts.

Her name was Ayame. When she came by that evening to ask my husband to fix her computer, I heard the unmistakable sounds of pleasure drifting from the other room.

"Wanna try my new tongue stud? Consider it your payment for the repair."

Then came my husband's moans of pure, shameless delight.

I couldn't help but feel jealous. It had been so long since he'd sounded that happy with me.

As I listened, my hand slid slowly beneath the waistband of my pants. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

I'd heard that Ayame's husband had a full ring of piercings down below. I'd been craving a taste for ages.

If Ayame could seduce my husband, then I'd take my own turn sampling those piercings.

My husband was a computer whiz, and he brought me along to work in Valen.

Rent in Valen was steep, so we ended up in one of those chaotic, mixed-bag apartment buildings. The place was packed with edgy young girls in trendy Valenese outfits, their lips and tongues covered in piercings.

They said Valen's adult entertainment industry was thriving, but after arriving, I realized it goes way beyond that. These people had turned their subculture into an art form, with every twist and challenge pushing the limits of my imagination.

Take the young couple next door—barely in their twenties, for example. The things they got up to were beyond wild.

That night, as Ayame and my husband disappeared into a room and the door clicked shut, I heard my husband's moans of pleasure drifting through the wall—louder than anything we'd ever shared, dripping with raw desire and power.

Just hearing him like that made my body betray me. But knowing he was openly cheating on me, right under our roof, left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Soon, the bedroom door creaked open. Ayame stepped out, running her tongue over her new tongue piercing, a satisfied smirk on her face as she looked at me.

"Mia, your husband's pretty impressive," she said. "I mean… with computers."

I forced a thin smile and saw her out.

When I walked into the bedroom, my husband lay sprawled across the bed, cheeks flushed, a dazed, silly grin on his face. He looked genuinely happy.

Usually, after we finished, he'd just get up and bury himself in his computer. But this time, when he noticed the anger in my expression, he sat up—and his first words were, "Babe, you should get a tongue piercing too. That feeling… it's insane. I can't even describe it."

Seeing him so blissed out stirred something in me.

I'd heard that Ayame's husband, Ryuzo, had a full ring of piercings down there—the kind that left women weak in the knees, unable to walk straight. Add his bronzed skin, that perfect face, and a body stacked with lean muscle, and I'd been half-obsessed with him for a while.

My married life with my husband hadn't been great for years. Every time we did it, I'd find myself wondering if he'd even made it in yet. But before I could ask, he'd already pulled up his pants and called it done.

I'd have to take care of things myself, quietly—but that never came close to dousing the fire inside me. Over time, the desires I'd buried kept growing stronger.

After coming to Valen, I'd long wanted to know what Ryuzo's piercings felt like.

Curious, I asked my husband what the tongue stud had been like.

He licked his lips, still savoring the memory.

"It's like a little bead," he said. "Her lips wrap around it, tight, and then it glides across… That sensation—it makes my whole body clench. Like it pulls my soul right out."

Hearing him describe it, I could barely contain myself. The thought of Ryuzo's full ring of piercings made me wet.

If my husband could sneak a taste of Ayame, then he couldn't blame me for sneaking a taste of Ryuzo.

The chance came sooner than I expected. That night, Ayame invited both of us over—as thanks for fixing her computer, she said. In Valen, that kind of repair would've cost a thousand dollars.

It was my first time inside Ryuzo and Ayame's apartment.

The moment I stepped through the door, a wave of purple mood lighting washed over me. The table was cluttered with adult toys, and the walls were plastered with graphic pictures.

Ryuzo welcomed us in, wearing nothing but loose board shorts, his chest bare. And beneath those shorts—a massive outline. On top of that, the fabric traced a full ring of bead-like bumps.

His solid build and chiseled eight-pack hit me like a freight train. I felt dizzy, my red-bottom heels wobbling beneath me. I stumbled and fell right into Ryuzo.

My lips landed squarely against that ring of steel. The hard, unyielding sensation sent heat rushing to my cheeks.

Ryuzo caught me, one hand bracing me up and the other cupping my breast.

My husband was standing right there!

I steadied myself and shot a glance his way. He wasn't even looking. His eyes were locked on Ayame.

She was in the kitchen, wearing a micro-miniskirt, busying herself with dinner. When she caught the scene, she just smiled—a knowing, secret little smile.