For the Japanese Version of this story click here:
Japanese Version
I never planned to destroy my best friend’s marriage.
At least, that’s what I told myself the first time I saw Aiko bent over the conference table in that tight black pencil skirt.
My name is Kenji Takahashi. At thirty-four, I had just been named Vice President of Operations at Kurogane Enterprises after a brutal restructuring. The company needed fresh blood, and I was the one who delivered results. What I didn’t expect was that my oldest friend, Haruto Sato, would be one of the managers reporting to me.
And I definitely didn’t expect that his wife — sweet, shy, innocent Aiko — would become my personal assistant.
“Congratulations on the promotion, Kenji-san,” Aiko said softly on her first day, bowing slightly. Her long black hair fell like silk over one shoulder. She was wearing a modest white blouse, but the way the fabric stretched across her full breasts made my cock twitch. She had always been beautiful, but at twenty-eight she had ripened into something dangerously tempting.
Haruto had been bragging about her for years. “Aiko is the perfect wife,” he would say after too many drinks. “Traditional. Loyal. Never even looks at other men.”
That was about to change.
The first month was pure torture disguised as professionalism.
Aiko worked late every night to help me catch up on the department’s backlog. Haruto was in sales and often traveled, so she was alone in their small apartment most evenings. I started keeping her later and later.
One rainy Thursday night, the office was almost empty. Aiko was organizing files at the cabinet when she dropped a thick folder. She bent down to pick it up, and her skirt rode up, revealing the lace tops of her thigh-high stockings and the soft curve where her ass met her thighs.
I stood behind her, heart pounding.
“Let me help,” I said, stepping close enough that my crotch brushed against her hip as I reached for the papers.
She froze. A tiny gasp escaped her lips.
For a second, neither of us moved. I could smell her — cherry blossom shampoo and warm skin. My hand “accidentally” rested on the small of her back.
“Kenji-san… I should go home,” she whispered, but she didn’t pull away.
I let my fingers trace a slow circle. “Haruto is in Osaka until Friday. Stay a little longer. I’ll order dinner.”
She bit her lip, conflicted. That tiny hesitation was all I needed.
That night we shared sushi and sake in my office. By the third cup, her cheeks were flushed pink. I told her how beautiful she looked when she was focused. How Haruto was lucky. How I had always noticed her.
Aiko looked down, embarrassed. “Please don’t say things like that…”
But her nipples were hard against her blouse.
Over the next three weeks, I became an expert in small violations.
I started complimenting her body instead of her work. I “accidentally” sent her lingerie catalogs with notes: “This color would look incredible on you.” I made her stay late and sit next to me on the couch while we reviewed reports, my thigh pressed firmly against hers.
One night she wore the black lace panties I had left in her desk drawer as a “gift.” I knew because I saw the waistband when she reached for something on a high shelf.
“You’re wearing them,” I said quietly.
Aiko turned bright red. “I… I didn’t want to be rude.”
I stepped behind her, hands on her hips. “Show me.”
She trembled but slowly lifted her skirt. The black lace looked sinful against her pale skin. My cock was rock hard.
I didn’t fuck her that night. I only ran my fingers along the edge of the lace, teasing her until she was soaking wet and shaking.
“Tell Haruto you’re working late again tomorrow,” I whispered in her ear.
She nodded, ashamed and aroused.
The night it finally happened, Haruto was at a three-day conference in Tokyo.
I took Aiko to a private onsen ryokan I had booked under the company name. She was nervous the entire drive, but she came willingly.
After soaking in the hot spring, she came out wearing only a thin yukata. The belt was tied loosely. One tug and it would fall open.
I pulled her onto my lap on the tatami floor.
“Aiko… I’ve wanted you for years,” I confessed, voice low. “Every time Haruto showed me your photos, I imagined fucking you instead of him.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but her breathing was heavy. “This is wrong… He’s your best friend…”
“That makes it better,” I growled, sliding my hand between her thighs. She was dripping.
I kissed her hard. She resisted for only a few seconds before melting. Her tongue shyly met mine as I pushed two fingers deep inside her married pussy.
She came within minutes, crying out my name for the first time.
That night I fucked her three times. Slow and deep at first, then rough, pounding her into the futon while she moaned like a whore. I made her say it out loud:
“I’m cheating on my husband… I’m a bad wife… Kenji’s cock feels better…”
Each confession made her cum harder.
After that night, Aiko changed.
At the office she became the perfect submissive assistant. She wore shorter skirts. She stopped wearing panties when I told her not to. During lunch breaks she would lock my office door and suck my cock under the desk while I took calls.
Haruto noticed she was distant. She told him it was work stress.
One evening Haruto called while she was on her knees blowing me. I put the phone on speaker.
“Hey babe,” Haruto said cheerfully. “How’s work?”
Aiko looked up at me with my cock in her mouth, eyes wide with shame and lust.
I pushed her head down deeper.
“It’s… intense,” she answered, voice shaky. “Kenji keeps me very busy.”
I smiled and fucked her throat while she tried to sound normal. When I came down her throat, she almost choked but swallowed every drop like a good girl.
The real corruption happened during Golden Week.
Haruto had to work. I took Aiko to a luxury hotel in Kyoto for four days.
On the second night I made her call Haruto while I fucked her from behind.
“Tell him you love him,” I whispered, slamming into her soaked pussy.
“I love you, Haruto…” she moaned, trying to keep her voice steady.
I reached around and rubbed her clit hard. “Louder.”
“I love you so much…” Her voice cracked as she came violently on my cock.
Haruto asked if she was okay. She lied beautifully.
After she hung up, I flipped her over and fucked her missionary style, staring into her eyes.
“You’re mine now, Aiko. Say it.”
“I’m yours… I’m your slut… Haruto could never fuck me like this…”
I filled her married womb with the biggest load I’d ever given anyone.
By the end of the month, Aiko was fully corrupted.
She started wearing a small remote vibrator to work that only I controlled. She sent me videos of her masturbating while Haruto slept beside her. She begged me to fuck her in their marital bed when he was away.
The ultimate betrayal came when Haruto threw a surprise anniversary party for her.
While guests were in the living room, I pulled Aiko into the bathroom, bent her over the sink, and fucked her raw while Haruto was ten meters away toasting to their happy marriage.
She came so hard she had to bite my shoulder to stay quiet.
When we came back out, her face was flushed, my cum dripping down her thigh under her dress.
Haruto kissed her cheek. “You look so happy tonight, baby.”
Aiko smiled sweetly at her husband… while my seed ran down her leg.
Epilogue
Aiko still lives with Haruto. She still calls him “darling” and cooks his favorite meals.
But every single day she belongs to me.
She wears the lingerie I buy her. She cums only when I allow it. She has my name tattooed in tiny kanji just above her pussy — hidden from her husband, but always there when I claim her.
Netorare isn’t just about stealing a wife.
It’s about making her love being stolen.
And Aiko Sato? She is completely, hopelessly addicted to being my secret whore.
This is an original creative work by Salty Vixen. This story/article, including its characters, plot, and descriptive content, is protected by copyright law. Unauthorized copying, sharing, reposting, or reproduction in any format is strictly prohibited. This content may not be used for AI training, data scraping, machine learning, or any form of artificial intelligence development without explicit written permission from Salty Vixen Publishing LLC. Violators will be pursued to the fullest extent of the law.
