Standing in front of the mirror, I looked at myself. My skin was fair and smooth. I had a body with curves that turned heads. Anyone who saw me would call me a beauty.

Yet, despite my perfect appearance, my husband paid no attention. I was left to rely on myself.

I stood in front of the mirror, lifted one leg, and bit my lip. I started pleasuring myself.

When Janet had suggested that Mark find a prostitute, I wished I could just rush in and tell him not to bother looking and that he should just come to me.

I was cleaner than a prostitute. More importantly, I needed it much more than they did.

I thought, “God, what am I thinking? He’s my father-in-law.”

The more I tried to stop myself, the more those thoughts kept creeping in. Without realizing it, I even started to whisper, “Mark... ah... Mark, harder! Do it harder!”

The forbidden thrill and the madness of it all made me feel more aroused than ever. I got carried away as my hand moved faster and harder.

I did not even realize how loud my moans had become.

The bathroom door gently creaked open.

I was so horrified I felt the color drain from my face. I immediately stopped and opened my eyes. I tried to clamp my mouth shut, but a desperate moan still slipped out before I could stop it.

Our eyes locked. I wished I could just disappear right there on the spot. The person standing in the doorway was not anyone else; it was Mark.

When I saw the way Mark’s gaze darkened, I realized my nightgown was around my ankles.

I had moaned so loudly just now. He must have heard everything from outside the door. Seeing me in such an embarrassing state, even an idiot could guess what I had been doing.

I really should just die. He was my husband’s father.

He was my father-in-law.

I had just been touching myself, moaning his name, begging him to go harder on me.

He must have heard it all and figured out that I had just been getting myself off while fantasizing about him.

We lived in the same house. We would see each other every day. How was I supposed to face him after that?

He would think I was nothing but a cheap, desperate woman lusting after her own father-in-law.

Panicking, I quickly pulled my nightgown up to cover myself and hide the mess I had made.

My face turned bright red with shame. I lowered my head and said in a low voice, “Mark, I’m so sorry. You won’t think less of me, will you?”

“No,” Mark replied softly. His voice was full of concern. “But are you having problems with Gordon? Why are you…”

Thankfully, he did not mention me moaning his name. Whether he really had not heard or was pretending not to, I could not tell.

“I...”

I was stammering with my face still flushed. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on my forehead.

Just thinking of the way Gordon had looked at me, the torment of those nights, made me want to just spill everything and ask Mark for help.

However, no matter how badly I wanted to tell him, the words would not come.

“Tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”

He walked closer and gently patted my shoulder. He looked at me with such warmth and told me not to be afraid.

His steady, mature presence and reassuring calm suddenly gave me the courage I had been lacking.

Finally, I lowered my head in embarrassment. My face was burning as I spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, stammering as I confessed my shameful problem to him.

He seemed a little surprised. He said the birthing muscles had a strong ability to contract. Usually, even after a tear and stitches, it could recover.

He said what I was describing was extremely rare.

“Here’s what we’ll do. Let me take a look and see exactly what’s going on.”

I blinked, thinking I had misunderstood him.

I had mustered the courage to share my condition with him under his encouragement, but to show him down there was a line I could not cross.

Noticing my hesitation, he reassured me with patience.

“It’s completely normal to feel embarrassed. I know I’m a man, and I’m Gordon’s father, but I’m a doctor, a gynecologist. I’ve seen all sorts of women’s bodies, so there’s really nothing to worry about.”

When I still hesitated, he added, “Look, since you’re feeling shy about it, I’ll help you.”

Before I could protest, he lifted me and sat me on the sink.

Before I even had time to react, he had already pulled my skirt up with a swift motion.

I realized that my panties were long gone. At that moment, I was completely exposed, without any cover.

Mark had been so direct about it. I felt my face flush an even deeper shade of crimson.

I could hardly believe I had ended up here, completely exposed in front of him like this.

I watched as his gaze fixed intently on that place. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. It was loud enough that I could hear it.

Mortified, I instinctively brought my hands down to cover myself.

He gently moved them aside. “Be good. Let me take a proper look.”

As he said that, he touched it directly. He was examining me like a meticulous inspector. He carefully parted it and felt along the contours. His fingers were tracing the skin.

He was not even wearing gloves. His rough hand, calloused and worn, grazed against me.

My body trembled uncontrollably. Then, I felt a sudden wave of heat rushing through me.

This was bad, I thought. At any rate, I would start reacting. I wanted to stop him, but my body felt weak and limp. My eyes could not help but keep drifting back toward Mark.

Mark was wearing nothing but a pair of loose boxer shorts. His upper body was completely bare. His eight-pack abs were perfectly defined. His waist and abdomen were lean and powerful. From his navel down to his lower abdomen, there was even a small trail of hair.

The overwhelming scent of raw masculinity hit me all at once. I instantly felt a surge of heat inside my body, like a sudden fire had been lit within me.

After what felt like a full examination, looking, feeling, and probing, Mark finally reached his conclusion. “You’re dealing with postpartum muscle atony. Some people commonly call it pelvic relaxation. Normally, a woman can accommodate two or three fingers. In your case, I can fit my whole hand. Gordon is probably no more than four inches, so I imagine things between you haven’t been very satisfying.”

I nodded. I felt a flicker of hurt surfacing. “Yes, he won’t even touch me anymore. Earlier, I was even…”

“Don’t worry too much. There’s a way to treat it. The problem is finding the right person to help you.”

“There is. Gordon could help me,” I said innocently.

“But didn’t you just tell me things between you weren’t working? The treatment I’m suggesting requires a man who’s physically compatible with you. You’d need to be with him continuously for about a week. During that time, it has to happen once a day. That’s the only way to prevent the muscles from continuing to deteriorate.”

“What?”

What kind of bizarre treatment was that? Was that not basically cheating?

Besides, with how loose I was, where would I even find a man who was a match for me? There simply was no one like that.

Seeing that I was still hesitant, Mark actually said, “There probably aren’t many men like that. Tell you what, let me try it with you. To be honest, I have acromelagy in that area. We might actually be a perfect match.”

Huh? Had his growth been abnormal? But given our relationship, was this even okay?

I hesitated. “B-But…”

Mark cut me off firmly. “No more ‘buts.’ If your condition isn’t treated soon, it’s only going to get worse.”

With that, he reached forward and pulled my legs apart.

I ended up facing him in an unbearably humiliating position.

The next second, Mark eagerly yanked his shorts down.

In an instant, something enormous sprang free.

My breath nearly stopped. So it really was acromelagy. It was so thick and so long.

Even though I was already loose and open, I still felt a flicker of fear. Could a person even survive something that big?

Looking at Mark’s sexy, muscular body and his astonishing manhood, the desire inside me flared completely out of control.

Janet was just outside. The sheer wrongness of it, the thrill, made my head spin.

Mark stared down at me with an obsessive gaze. The refined gentleness he usually carried was completely gone. His eyes were bloodshot. His breathing was ragged, like a wild beast barely holding itself back. He gripped his massive length and positioned it against my trembling center.