Cheating Housewife Nao Jinguji Gets Creapied 9 Times. Nao Jinguji smoothed the simple skirt of her dress, a stark contrast to the hushed opulence of the high-rise foyer. For three years, she and Yusuke had built their life together in their comfortable, low-rise apartment, a quiet, predictable rhythm of shared meals and evenings on the sofa. It wasn’t a bad life, not at all, but tonight felt like stepping into a different dimension. She’d received an unexpected invitation – a gathering on one of the coveted upper floors of the tower mansion that loomed over their neighborhood. It was where the truly successful, the “excellent males,” as the hushed gossip went, resided and socialized.
Stepping out of the elevator onto the upper floor felt less like entering an apartment and more like walking into a discreet, luxurious club. The air was thicker here, scented not just with expensive perfume and liquor, but with an undeniable tension, a knowing languor that settled deep in Nao’s belly. The men who greeted her weren’t like Yusuke. They moved with a different kind of confidence, their smiles sharp, their eyes missing nothing. They were powerful, predatory, and she felt a pull towards them she hadn’t anticipated.
Small talk dissolved quickly, replaced by drinks that loosened her inhibitions and glances that promised more than just polite conversation. One man, with a smile that could disarm and eyes that stripped her bare, guided her away from the few other guests into a private lounge bathed in soft, suggestive lighting. His name was Tanaka, and his hand on her lower back felt like an electric current. Another man, leaner but with an intensity that matched Tanaka’s, joined them, his gaze lingering on her lips.
“Nao-san,” Tanaka’s voice was low, a purr that vibrated through her. “It’s rare we see such… natural beauty… down here.” The implication hung heavy: she was a discovery from below, a fresh, unspoiled toy for their world.
Before she fully understood what was happening, the conversation shifted, becoming overtly sexual, laced with challenges and appraisals of her body. She felt exposed, judged, and thrillingly desired. Her initial nervousness gave way to a strange defiance, an urge to see just how far this went. When Tanaka suggested they move somewhere more comfortable, somewhere they could “really appreciate” her, she nodded, her mouth dry but a fire igniting within her.
They led her into a bedroom that was both minimalist and decadent, dominated by a massive bed. The air hung heavy with anticipation. The two men began slowly, their touch exploratory at first, peeling away the layers of her respectable housewife persona with expert hands. Her clothes came off piece by piece, each item a shedding of her old life, leaving her vulnerable and tingling under their combined gaze.
Tanaka started, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin, while the other man watched, his eyes burning. Then they switched, the second man, Sato, taking over, his touch bolder, his breathing shallow. They worked in concert, a silent understanding passing between them as they teased her nipples into hard peaks and stroked the growing wetness between her legs. Nao found herself arching into their touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. It felt… wrong. So utterly wrong compared to Yusuke’s familiar touch, and yet, intoxicating.
The moment one of them knelt before her, spreading her legs with a possessiveness that stole her breath, she knew there was no turning back. His tongue was hot and relentless, seeking out her clit and driving her to the edge of sanity within moments. She cried out, gripping his head, the pleasure overwhelming. But they weren’t finished.
Soon, they were on the bed, her legs splayed wide. Tanaka was first, his body heavy, his erection thick and hard against her core. He plunged inside her with a powerful thrust that made her gasp, filling her completely. She was tight, unused to this kind of intensity, but her body quickly adjusted, opening to him. He moved with a practiced rhythm, deep and fast, his breath hot on her neck. The sensation was raw, primal, unlike anything Yusuke had ever given her.
Just as she felt a climax building, he pulled out, leaving her aching and exposed. Sato was instantly there, replacing him, his cock narrower but longer, reaching deeper inside her. He was just as relentless, driving into her with fierce precision. The combined effect, the memory of being filled and the immediate replacement with a new, equally potent presence, was disorienting and incredibly arousing.
This went on, a relentless cycle of penetration, withdrawal, and replacement. Sometimes both men were on the bed, touching her, kissing her, one watching while the other claimed her body. They used her mouth, her breasts, but always returned to the core, the hot, wet center they seemed determined to conquer.
The first time one of them buried himself deep and held still, groaning as his body spasmed and a hot gush of semen flooded inside her, Nao tensed, a shock running through her. It was the ultimate betrayal, a physical mark of her infidelity left deep within her. He pulled out, leaving her dripping, vulnerable.
But the second man was ready, sliding into the slick warmth immediately, his own erection throbbing. He too drove her to a tearing climax before releasing his own load, a thick, heavy surge that mixed with the first. This was the game. This was the point. Being utterly used, completely filled, repeatedly.
They continued, trading places, their breathing ragged, their bodies gleaming with sweat. They pushed her, demanding responses, driving her harder and harder. Each time one neared his peak, the rhythm would intensify, building to that final, deep thrust and the hot, internal flood. It was intense, almost violent in its pleasure and violation. Every time she felt the hot gush fill her, a part of her recoiled even as her body convulsed around him. These were powerful men, filling her with their “high-class DNA,” leaving their mark deep inside. Especially raw because, she realized with a sickening jolt, this was her fertile period.
The hours blurred. She lost track of how many times one or the other had driven himself into her depths, how many times she had felt the hot, heavy release inside her body. It felt like five, six, seven times… each one a thick, warm invasion that left her fuller, heavier, more completely saturated. They were relentless, their stamina seemingly boundless. They drove her to climax after climax, each one more desperate than the last, before delivering that final, internal jolt.
Eight times, nine times… the count became a hazy, physical sensation rather than a number. Her insides felt stretched, overloaded, heavy with their seed. She lay there, slick with sweat and semen, utterly spent, her body throbbing, defeated. They had taken everything, left her utterly filled, a vessel overflowing with the proof of her betrayal. Cheating Housewife Nao Jinguji had come to the upper floors, and Cheating Housewife Nao Jinguji Gets Creampied 9 Times, maybe more, felt less like a movie title and more like the inescapable reality of her ruined, aching body. They finally withdrew, leaving her alone in the aftermath, the silence deafening after the sounds of their exertions and her own cries. She was heavy, inside and out, a stark contrast to the lightness she’d felt arriving. The quiet apartment with Yusuke felt a million miles away.
