Adultery Avi's Sexual Marathon: Family, Village, College, City

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 18: The Six-Inch Secret

I arrived at Madam's house on Sunday noon. She greeted me warmly, wearing a nightgown that felt appropriate for the relaxed, secret nature of our meetings.

"Avi, do you have any work all day today?" she asked, her voice calm.

"No, Madam, I am completely free today," I replied.

She decided to cut straight to the issue, her expression direct. "Have you read that book?"

"Yes, just once," I admitted, my eyes dropping to the floor.

"How did you feel after seeing that book?" she asked, her tone professional, almost clinical.

"It felt a little strange," I said, unable to articulate the mix of shame and pleasure.

"Have you seen books like that before?" she pressed, her curiosity now openly piqued.

"Yes, some of my friends showed me," I confessed, using the common lie to hide my own burgeoning exploration.

"Do you like these kinds of books?" she asked.

"I don't like them," I said, trying to be honest without being condemned. "But I get the urge to look at them again and again."

"Do you want this book?" she offered immediately, testing my limits.

"No, I don't want it. If my chachi sees it, I'll get a beating," I said, my fear overriding any lingering desire.

"Keep it hidden in your room. No one will know you have such a book," she insisted, leaning in.

"You also kept it hidden, but I still found it, didn't I?" I argued, the logic suddenly giving me confidence. "What if my chachifinds it the same way?"

"That was my mistake that you found it," she conceded, a hint of frustration coloring her voice.

"No, Madam, I don't want it," I said again, my boundary firm.

"Okay. Don't take it. What do I care?" she said, her tone suddenly shifting to sharp annoyance.

"Madam, please don't be angry," I pleaded. "I'm afraid that if my chachi finds the book and tells my chacha, they will throw me out of the house."

"Alright, forget it. I'll make some coffee for you," she said, giving up the fight, her eyes lingering on me for a moment.

"Okay," I said, relieved the immediate tension had passed.

She brought the coffee and handed it to me. "Here's the coffee."

"Thank you, Madam," I said, taking a sip.

My courage, fueled by the coffee and the relief of the book crisis being over, suddenly surged. "Madam, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, yes, ask away," she said, sensing the shift in my mood.

"You won't get angry, will you?" I asked nervously.

"No, I won't get angry. Ask what you want to ask," she said, her curiosity fully engaged now.

"It was written in that book that..." I started, my voice catching.

"Yes, say it. Why did you stop?" she prompted, her eyes steady on mine.

I took a breath and blurted it out: "It was written in that book that your husband's penis is six inches long."

Madam masked a slight smile. It's a good thing he asked. Otherwise, I was thinking about how to start the conversation.

"Yes, it is," she said aloud. Then, she adopted a stern voice. "And why are you using a word like 'penis'? Aren't you ashamed to use such words in front of your Madam?" she scolded, acting offended.

"Sorry, Madam, it was a mistake. I won't say it again," I stammered, my face heating up again.

"Oh, you're upset." She quickly softened, waving away the reprimand. "I was just joking. I know that in villages, these words are used. Ask what you were asking."

"Are everyone's penises only six inches long?" I asked, finally getting to my real worry.

"No, that's not the case. Some people have bigger ones," she said simply. "But why are you asking?"

"Well," I lied quickly, "some of my friends have the same length."

She thought: I think you want to ask something else, but you're scared. Don't be afraid, ask what you want to ask.

"There is a friend of mine," I continued, pressing the lie. "He says his penis is longer than six inches. But I don't believe him. I think he must have some disease."

She shook her head gently. "It doesn't get longer because of a disease. It happens because of hormones. Some people's are longer than six inches, and some are shorter. But most people's are around six inches. Understand?" she explained with the calm authority of a teacher.

"Yes, I understand," I said, a powerful wave of relief washing over me. "Madam, can I have a glass of water?"

"Yes, I'll get it," she said, walking toward the kitchen.

Thank God. I thought I had some disease. It's a good thing I asked Madam. Otherwise, I would have been worried forever. I sat back, the pressure of my deepest personal fear completely gone, replaced by a grateful sense of trust in my Madam.

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