Unforgettable Lust: Yurika Tsubaki’s Uncensored HDV Confession
The tatami mats were still warm from the afternoon sun when Yurika Tsubaki slipped out of her silk kimono, letting it fall silently to the floor. Her husband had left for his business trip to Osaka, muttering about late meetings and early flights. He didn’t notice how her eyes lingered just a second too long on the young delivery man at the door — the one with the tight forearms and the lazy smile that made her thighs press together beneath her pleated skirt.
She told herself it was just a fantasy.
But now, alone in the hushed stillness of her traditional Kyoto home, with cherry blossoms drifting past the shoji screens, she knew it wouldn’t stay one for long.
Her phone buzzed — a single message from him.
“You’re alone, aren’t you, Yurika-san? I’ve been thinking about your legs all day.”
A shiver ran down her spine. The delivery man. Ren. Barely twenty-four, with the kind of hunger in his eyes that made her feel younger than her thirty-six years. She bit her lip, typing back slowly, teasingly:
“You shouldn’t say such things… I’m a married woman.”
But her fingers trembled as she sent it. And when his reply came — a photo of his bare torso, sweat glistening on his abs after unloading boxes — she moaned aloud. Wetness flooded her panties. She was dripping.
The doorbell rang.
She didn’t even check the peephole.
Ren stood there, shirtless now, a folded delivery slip in one hand and a cocky grin on his lips. “Forgot my tip,” he said, stepping inside without waiting. The moment the door clicked shut, he pushed her against the wall, his mouth crashing into hers.
Yurika gasped into the kiss — salty, fierce, real. His hands were everywhere: gripping her hips, tearing at her blouse, squeezing the full weight of her breasts through lace. She arched into him, her nipples hard peaks, her pussy clenching with need.
“You’ve wanted this since the first time I came to your door,” he growled, dropping to his knees. “Let me taste you, housewife.”
She whimpered as he yanked her skirt up, ripped off her panties, and buried his face between her thighs. His tongue was magic — wide, wet laps up her slit, then a sharp flick over her clit that made her cry out. He sucked her swollen nub like he was starving for it, fingers spreading her open, plunging two deep inside.
“Fuck! Yes! Just like that!” she screamed, fingers tangled in his hair.
She was close — so close — when he stood, unbuckled his jeans, and freed his thick, veiny cock. It sprang out, heavy and glistening at the tip.
“No condom,” he said. “I want to feel you bare.”
And she didn’t protest.
He lifted her onto the low wooden table, spread her legs wide, and slammed into her with one brutal thrust.
“Ah! Oh god — too deep! Too much!” she sobbed, but her hips rose to meet him, taking every inch.
Their bodies slapped together, the rhythm raw and primal. He fucked her like he owned her — and in that moment, he did. She was no longer the perfect wife, the quiet homemaker. She was Yurika, the cheating Japanese housewife losing herself in an animalistic ride.
Sweat dripped from her collarbone as she came — hard — walls clamping around his cock, juices gushing down her thighs. He followed, groaning her name as he flooded her pussy with hot, sticky spurts.
They collapsed in a tangle of limbs, breathless.
But when he looked at her, dazed and satisfied, she smiled — slow, dangerous.
“This stays between us,” she whispered. “Or I’ll have to punish you next time.”
