Hi writer-nim I hope you can cook something good with this its such a nice duo with Krystal and Winter both known for their “cold looks” and this was just recently taken from the event they attended.
(f(x)'s Krystal X Aespa's Winter X Male Reader) Wordcount: 1231 words
The heat of the kitchen makes you sweat slightly after a good amount of time of cooking as you finish plating dinner. The sound of the front door opening makes you look up. Krystal enters first in the elegant brown, thin dress, in which you bent her over the living room couch, right before she left for the Ralph Lauren event. The fabric seems to cover her body like liquid chocolate. Behind her is another woman. She looks ethereal in her shimmering gold-green halter gown, blonde hair styled in an updo, cheeks flushed from maybe nervousness or excitement. You narrow your eyes. Aespa’s Winter?
Krystal’s eyes meet yours with a familiar possessive gleam.
“I’m home.”
She announces in a playful singsong voice.
“And I brought dessert.”
Winter stands shyly beside her, hands clasped in front of her. Krystal places a hand on the younger idol’s lower back and guides her forward.
“Tell him what you told me in the bathroom earlier, baby.”
Krystal encourages her softly.
Winter bites her lip, glancing at you nervously.
“I… I’ve never done this before. I’m still a…a virgin.”
The confession hangs in the air. You’re not sure how to respond, but slowly it dawns on you what’s about to happen. Krystal smiles, clearly pleased with herself for bringing Winter home to you.
“She admitted it at the after-party. So, I decided our sweet Winter needs a proper first time… with my generous man.”
You set the plates aside. Dinner can wait.
Krystal leads Winter to the spacious living room, sitting her on the wide couch. She turns to you, eyes dark with lust.
“Strip for us.”
You obey, shedding your shirt and pants. Your cock springs free, already hard at the sight and the thought of the two women in front of you. Winter’s eyes widen, lips parting in shock.
“Oh my god…”
She whispers, staring at your cock.
“It’s…big.”
Krystal laughs, reaching out to stroke your length.
“That’s what I told you. The picture doesn’t do it justice, does it?”
You wonder how many pics of your dick Krystal has on her phone. And you’re surprised she’d show them to Winter.
“Don’t worry, baby. You’ll learn to love it.”
She pulls Winter closer. Both women lean in. Krystal starts first, licking a slow stripe up the underside of your shaft before taking you into her warm mouth with. Winter watches, mesmerized, until Krystal pulls back and guides the younger girl’s head forward.
“Try it. Just the tip at first.”
Winter’s soft lips part. She takes the head of your cock into her mouth, sucking tentatively. The sensation is incredible. Her inexperience makes every movement eager and curious. Krystal joins her, their tongues sliding along your length, occasionally meeting in sloppy, wet kisses around your cock.
You groan, threading your fingers through both women’s hair. Winter grows bolder, taking more of you, gagging softly when you hit the back of her throat. Krystal praises her constantly.
“Good girl… look how well you’re taking him. You’re going to feel so full when he fucks you.”
The dual blowjob is heavenly. Their combined saliva drips down your shaft as they work together. Krystal deepthroats you effortlessly while Winter focuses on the head and balls, licking and sucking with wide-eyed fascination.
After several minutes, Krystal stands and helps Winter out of her gown. The metallic fabric pools at her feet, revealing smooth, pale skin and small breasts. Krystal sheds her own dress, leaving both women naked.
“On the couch, Winter. Legs open for him.”
Winter lies back, spreading her thighs shyly. Her pussy is pink and glistening. Krystal kneels beside her, stroking Winter’s hair. You position yourself between Winter’s legs, rubbing the head of your cock against her slick folds. She whimpers, eyes locked on where you’re about to enter her.
“Relax, baby.”
Krystal coos, leaning down to kiss Winter softly.
“He’s going to make you feel so good.”
You push in slowly. Winter gasps, back arching as her tight virgin pussy stretches around your thickness.
“Ah-! It’s too big…daddy, it’s stretching me-”
The word slips out in her overwhelmed state, making Krystal smirk and you hesitate. You keep pushing until you’re halfway in, giving her time to adjust. Winter’s eyes are wide with that shock of seeing you stretch her open, breathing fast, her cheeks a deep pink after that slip up.
Krystal reaches down and rubs Winter’s clit in slow circles.
“Breathe. Let him in. You’re doing so well for us.”
You thrust deeper, bottoming out with a groan at her incredible tightness. Winter cries out, nails digging into your hands that hold her thighs apart. The feeling of her impossibly tight walls contracting around you is addictive. You start moving with slow, deep strokes that make her moan beautifully.
Krystal watches with dark satisfaction, whispering encouragement.
“Fuck her harder. She can take it. Ruin that pretty little virgin pussy for me.”
You pick up speed, thrusting harder. Winter’s moans grow louder, her body rocking beneath you. Krystal leans in and sucks on Winter’s nipple, heightening her pleasure. The younger girl cums suddenly, her first orgasm that she didn’t have to work for herself, clenching violently around your cock with a broken cry.
You don’t stop. You flip Winter onto her hands and knees, entering her from behind. Krystal positions herself in front of Winter, sitting on the backrest, guiding the girl’s face between her thighs. While you pound Winter from behind, she eagerly eats Krystal out, muffled moans vibrating against the older woman.
“Such a good girl.”
Krystal praises, stroking Winter’s hair.
“Taking his cock so well.”
You grip Winter’s hips and fuck her thoroughly, deep and relentless. The sound of skin slapping fills the room. Krystal looks at you over Winter’s back.
“Cum inside her. Fill our little virgin up.”
The words push you over. You bury yourself deep and unload, pumping thick ropes of cum into Winter’s spasming pussy. She cums again with you, whimpering into Krystal’s pussy.
You pull out, watching your cum drip from her used hole. But you’re not done.
Krystal helps Winter onto her back again. This time, Krystal straddles Winter’s face, grinding down while you slide back into the younger girl’s cum-filled pussy. You fuck her, hard and possessive, while Krystal rides her tongue.
Winter is a trembling, overwhelmed mess, completely lost in pleasure between the two of you. When you cum for a second time, you pull out quick enough to spray your seed over both their bodies, painting the two of the with your cum as Krystal grinds through her own orgasm. The older of the two got most of her share on her stomach, while the other has her small tits covered
Winter lies between you and Krystal as your spent cock rests atop her tight tummy, breathing heavily, body marked and leaking your cum. Krystal climbs off and kisses her forehead tenderly.
“You did so well, baby.”
Then she looks at you with a pleased, but hungry smile.
“Let me show you how well I can take his cock.”
Winter glances up at you, then Krystal. Curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
“Can…can…I try again later too?”
You stroke Winter’s hair, as Krystal’s knees lower themselves onto the carpet, her gaze fixed on your cock. The dinner you made has gone cold by now as Krystal begins to work your cock back to full hardness.
Word count: 12.4K | Tags: Smut, Cunnilingus, Body Worship, Against the Window, Creampie, Titjob, Facials, Exhibitionism.
A catch-up with Ryujin, a few drinks, and a little bit of bribery open the door for Seungdae (OC) to spend the night with one of Korea's finest delicacies.
New readers, fear not, this is a good place to jump right into the story. I hope you stay, I hope you enjoy it, I hope you get to read the rest if you haven't. Without further ado...
If someone had told Seungdae that he would ever debate himself whether he should go to Shin Ryujin's apartment or rest, he would have considered them crazy. Of course, he wanted to go to her place, but almost 72 hours after the events in his girlfriend's new house, he was still exhausted.
"I can't fucking believe myself," he grunted, accepting a glass of orange juice from his girlfriend as he tried to focus on his work.
"You used to work out at least three days a week before this whole thing started. You've barely set foot in the gym since then," she chuckled. "You know I've never liked exercising that much either, but how come I am in better condition than you?"
"Jin, my Queen, I've also been helping you move stuff around from your old apartment to this place, remember?" He smirked teasingly. "Plus, you've had years of experience fucking for hours in a row with multiple people. It's only been three months for me." Three months since he first fucked Momo, three months since he signed a contract to serve idols sexually.
"Oh, so you want another orgy with Twice to get in shape?" She grinned, playing the offended rather obviously before giving him a peck on the cheek.
"No, no… I mean, it would be great, but that's not what I— I'm just physically tired. Maybe mentally as well." He pursed his lips, pointing to his laptop. "I don't even know."
"Well, Ryujin has been waiting to see you since last week. Tzuyu's Japan for their concert, and I'll be on set the whole day. I say: finish your shift, eat, take a nap while Itzy performs, and go meet her." With a profound kiss and a reaffirming nod, she walked to the door, where her manager was already waiting for her.
Her suggestion was perfect, except for the accumulated chores in his own apartment. With no other option, he finished his hectic shift, loaded with all the missing work from the days off he had requested.
His apartment felt foreign. He had not slept there, much less alone, for over a week; one that felt like a month for him. Fighting Morpheus, he managed to do his laundry and clean a few more things that needed attention.
By the time he was done, Ryujin had already made it to her place and texted Seungdae to get there. As much as he needed to rest, after the little heart-to-heart they had on their last troublesome meeting, he wanted to check on her.
"Damn, dude, you look awful," she chuckled as soon as her door opened. Perhaps the truest version of Ryujin he had seen yet. Freshly showered, hair still damp, no makeup, just a big t-shirt covering her body, and, most importantly, no Light Fury around.
"You really know how to make anyone feel better." He shook his head while she welcomed him.
"Sorry, you look like a zombie," she giggled, showing him the slippers. "I hope you don't mind cats," she added, going to the living room. Three cats spread in their own corners. "Dallie, Bama, and Una."
"As long as they don't mind me, we should be good."
"Want a drink?"
He accepted, helping her carry a bottle of wine, some snacks, and two glasses to the living room. Even though he sat on one end of the couch, Ryujin sat right next to him, talking about her performance, and finished their first glass of wine. Naturally, he asked her about any improvement with Yeji.
"She's been a bit more open to suggestions. She's come here a bit more often to cuddle instead of me going to her place to fuck."
"But you're okay with that, right?"
"Oh, yeah. I don't think I can spend a week without her licking me, and it's the same for her," she giggled, running her tongue through her teeth. "It's strange, you know? I've always said yes to anything she asked…"
"I noticed," he grimaced, rolling his eyes.
"But now that I've started saying no to the stuff I don't want to do, she seems to pay more attention to me. She's tried harder to keep me happy and satisfied." She pursed her lips, nodding slightly.
"Who would have guessed that a woman with insane determination would like a challenge?" He giggled, drinking half his glass.
"It's not like I was her slave!"
"Might as well. And don't smile like that. I know the idea is tempting, but you've got to be firm when you tell her no or whatever."
"It's still hard! The moment she pouts, I just…" Ryujin bit her lower lip, tensing as she struggled to find the words.
"Lose it?" Seungdae smirked, thinking of how he still battled to say no to his girlfriend.
"Yes! But I know it's for the best, so I'm slowly getting there."
"Don't know, Ryu. I'll have to see it to believe it."
"Yeah? Why should I even listen to you?" She scoffed, finishing her second glass.
"Well, for starters, I'm older than you."
"Like that makes a difference. You haven't even asked Tzuyu or your 'non-girlfriend' to formalize," she grinned, pushing him with her elbow and getting her legs up on the couch. After a moment of confused silence from him, she giggled. "Jihyo unnie told me about that the day after we…"
"Got it. Just so you know, Jin and I are now a proper couple," he stated, drinking more wine before leaving his glass on the table.
"Not Tzuyu?"
"Jin and I go way, way back. It's different with Tzuyu. She asked me to wait until she was ready. We're enjoying the moment, you know?"
"This Jin must be amazing if you made her your girlfriend before Tzuyu unnie, huh?"
"She truly is." He relaxed, letting his arm rest on Ryujin's bare thigh.
"Come on," she elbowed him. "Show me a pic of her! I want to see whose your favorite pussy!"
"She's my favorite everything," he declared without thinking. "Well, Tzu's thighs… All of her body, really, is unbeatable. But you know what I mean."
"What makes Jin so special, then? Is it her curves?" Ryujin leaned onto him, drawing a woman in the air.
"I mean, she's not voluptuous…"
"I didn't think you'd focus only on that, considering how you look at me." She pressed her hands through her chest, allowing the loose fabric to outline her nipples. Then, she leaned back to stretch her legs, getting them close to his face to draw his attention.
He followed her right foot as it ran through her left shin. When he turned to face Ryujin, she had already taken her t-shirt off, revealing her modest boobs and small black panties outlining her cameltoe. "Ryu… Don't torture me like that."
"I'm just getting comfortable," she shrugged, standing to fill her glass of wine.
Time slowed down while he scanned her shoulders, the line of her column, and her slim waist, hypnotized by her hips and the crease of her buttcheeks.
"I trust you'll keep your part of the deal." She turned back, smirking devilishly and signaling him to drink.
'Hands away from her holes, dick out of her way,' Seungdae thought repeatedly, finishing the glass quickly and handing it back for her to fill it again.
"It wouldn't be fair to make you compare Jin to Tzuyu unnie." Ryujin stood up in front of him, laughing at his erection, growing as much as his frustration. "But you can compare her to me! Is she taller?" She asked playfully, placing her hand over her head.
He sighed, standing up and fixing his erection in his pants, not caring about her laugh. "I think you're barely taller than her," he replied, pulling Ryujin as close to his chest as possible.
She slapped his arm and made him cup her face with his hands, raising her eyebrows and pouting exaggeratedly.
"She's cuter than you, no doubt. But you've got way more stomach to do aegyo than her," they chuckled while she guided his hands to her small breasts. "She's got more tits than you, but that's not hard," he joked, pinching her nipples.
"Funny." She rolled her eyes and pushed him back on the couch before taking his hands to her waist.
"Your hips are wider," he let out, tensing his fingers as they slid under the hem of her panties, feeling alcohol clouding his mind.
"Take them off if you want, but you'll be the one suffering," she whispered with a cocky smirk. His digits rested over the fabric, but they kept pressing on her flesh. "Gosh, you're so easy to tease."
"This is not teasing. It's torture."
"One that you also enjoy," she scoffed, pushing him with her right foot on his chest, then wiggling her toes for him. "Are her feet prettier than mine?"
He took her ankle and her calf. "You really love people praising your feet, huh?" He scoffed, daring to kiss her sole.
"Yes," she admitted right away. "And you like them too, so no harm," she giggled, trying to take Seungdae's nose with her toes until she caught it. "Come on!" She whined dramatically while he grunted. "I'll show you something from Yeji unnie and me." Ryujin sat on his thigh, opposite to where his erection was, purposefully rubbing her pussy on him.
He felt her meaty lips pressing on his leg as her moist warmth passed through the fabric of his jeans. "You're a fucking headache… I got hours of you two," he replied, pretending to be angry, and pressing his hands against her waist.
"I can set you up with any of my friends!"
"I can have Jihyo unnie arrange that for me already."
"She'll think you're just another guy trying to fuck his way around us, and you know how protective she is of her precious maknae," Ryujin whispered, tapping his chest with both hands, watching him frown and look to the side.
"Can't say you're wrong."
"Then I can make that happen organically!"
"You won't stop teasing me until I tell you, right?" Seungdae tensed his thigh, trying to make her move, but she moaned instead. Clearly fake, but effective. "I fucking hate you."
"You can't hate me," she grinned widely, showing her whiskers.
"Might as well," he sighed in defeat, rolling his eyes. "Any of your friends?"
"IU sunbaenim is your girlfriend?" She exclaimed, standing up to see him whole after he explained that 'Jin' was a childhood nickname for Jieun and the most relevant intricacies of their relationship. "Nah, dude, that's bullshit."
He handed her his phone so she could see some pictures of them, including some with Jongsuk, proving his words and how functional their dynamic had become.
"Does Twice know?"
"We all spent last Wednesday together. Jieun and Tzuyu got along pretty well," he chuckled, happy to say that truth.
"Motherfucker. No wonder you said you'll be drained," she grimaced, digesting the news.
"One of me versus ten of them," he laughed at her reaction and how even her cats stared at Ryujin pour another full glass of wine for herself.
"Boo boo! Our precious server has too many pussies to fuck!" She drank it empty, shaking her head.
They kept drinking and teasing each other, but Ryujin promised to keep the secret. After finishing almost a full bottle of wine each, she chuckled at the sight of Seungdae, already asleep on her couch with Bama on his chest and Una curled in his arm.
He didn't wake up until the sun hit his eyes. Disoriented and feeling weight over his torso, he noticed that the couch he was on had turned into a bed. Then he realized Ryujin was sleeping on top of him.
'Thank god,' he sighed at the sight of her huge t-shirt over her, before hearing a not-so-subtle giggle. "Tell me nothing happened," he requested, tensing his whole body.
"You wish!" She chuckled, turning to face him. "I just unbuttoned your pants so you could be a bit more comfortable."
"Didn't occur to you that not having you on top would be better?"
"Bama and Una were already here, and after fixing the couch, it looked too cozy," she explained, lifting her torso just enough to see him at eye level.
"Ryu, I don't trust myself with you like… This!" Seungdae admitted, unable to keep his eyes from her perky tits, fully visible from the neck of her t-shirt.
"Luckily for us, I do!" She sat on his crotch, instantly jumping from it. "Was that your morning wood or conscious you?"
Despite the scare and having some of the events from the previous night tangled in his mind, his time with Ryujin helped him recover just enough to face another week of work.
Days went by, and he watched Twice's Lollapalooza performance live with Jieun and Jongsuk at her place, congratulating the girls together right after. Pleased with the expected praise from his friend about having fucked all nine of them, igniting a playful fire in their girlfriend, he felt thankful for his normal job. Even though it kept him on edge, since his team had stuck to working remotely, he could enjoy moments like that, and welcome Tzuyu back to Korea the following day.
"I really needed that," the maknae sighed, snuggling her face on his chest after enjoying a delicious dinner and a good massage from Seungdae.
"You deserve it after that performance and those flights," he chuckled.
"You do realize this is just beginning, right?" She voiced softly, pouting.
"You flying every other day?" He frowned, and she nodded slowly. "Yeah, very aware of that."
"Will you get tired of me because of it?"
He laughed at the question. "Tzu, my angel, that won't be a problem, trust me. I know how to deal with that."
She whined as his phone vibrated. "Please tell me if you feel tired, okay? Physically, mentally, emotionally… I'm also here for you."
"Do you want to study me like you did Nayeonie?" He laughed, pulling her in for a kiss.
"You'd make a very good subject of study," she smiled widely, giving him another peck.
"I'm up for that! As long as you state your bias for me on paper," he added, making her laugh. In a split second, he thanked the universe for having her in his life, then rolled his eyes at his vibrating phone. "What the fuck is going on?"
With Tzuyu giggling over him and no reason to hide his messages, he unlocked his phone to see the swarm of texts from Ryujin. Both their faces furrowed in confusion and worry.
"Go," Tzuyu said softly, kissing his cheek.
"We've barely had any time for us, and I'd really like to make the most of it before your vacation," he replied without thinking, watching her face turn serious. "Plus, I've got a feeling this is another trap like…" Seungdae sighed, pursing his lips.
"Even if it is, after she found out about Jieun unnie and you, it won't be like that time."
"I'd rather not find out. You just got here and—"
A profound kiss. Enough to silence him and bring him back to reality. "Baobei, I know you're thinking she might actually be in some sort of trouble." She smiled kindly at him, holding his cheek. "Just promise you'll be here when I wake up tomorrow. And Thursday," she added with a smirk.
He sighed, nodding, falling a little extra for her. "I promise… Thank you." He took a moment to calm the turmoil of thoughts and emotions going through him. "I'll leave my laptop here, alright?"
The maknae giggled, knowing that would guarantee his return in the morning.
"Wait, what did you call me?" Seungdae stopped at the door with a confused smile.
Tzuyu's eyes widened. "Baobei?" She asked quietly, pursing her lips but staring directly at him. He nodded. "Think of it as 'jagi' but in Mandarin," she said shyly. "Is it okay to call you that?"
Moved, he smiled and returned to kiss her. "More than okay," he reassured her. "I never asked. Is it okay if I call you 'my angel'?"
"Yes! I like it a lot," she giggled, biting her lip. "Now go!" She chuckled, kissing him again and gently pushing him.
Happy with how things were going with Tzuyu, but frustrated by the overall situation, he drove to the hotel Ryujin mentioned under the pretense that she didn't want to make a scene after getting hurt alone in her room in the middle of the night. As instructed, he entered the lobby, provided his name at reception, and was given a tag to enter the room.
"Ryu?" He asked loudly as soon as he closed the door behind him. "You've got to be kidding me," he sighed, perplexed at the elegant silhouette of a slim woman sitting on the bed, outlined by the city lights entering through the immense windows behind her.
"That's a very rude greeting coming from a server," she chuckled, turning the lamps on with a remote in her hand.
"Yeah, sorry. I was…" Starstruck by Karina's features revealed by the warm lights. Hair up in a bun, accentuating her long neck and her outfit: a tank top that did nothing to hide her heavy breasts, revealing her navel, and a pair of jeans that hugged her hips tightly. Despite her amazing figure, his eyes could not gravitate away from her face, framed by her bangs.
"Expecting to see poor Ryujinie hurt somewhere in the room?" She tried to control her laugh, making him conscious of his basic outfit. "To be honest, I was not expecting her to tell you she had broken her leg or something." She shook her head, hearing his phone buzzing. "You may want to check that," she said with a smirk.
RJ: I keep my promises. Treat her well and enjoy, dumbass!
"What exactly did she tell you?" He scoffed, pressing his temple.
"Whoa. No server protocol, no proper introduction. You're truly new to this thing, right?" She pursed her lips, curious about how unorthodox he already was compared to other servers.
He breathed deeply, extending his hand and accepting the change of plans. "Hwang Seungdae. Quite literally at your orders."
"Karina. But you already knew that." She shook his hand gladly.
Her skin was warm and incredibly soft, proper for one of the most desired women in the country. Still, he was taken from Tzuyu's bed to be there, and his face demanded an explanation.
"I guess you're not into Ryujin's pranks," she smiled, inviting him to sit next to her.
"Is this a prank?" He accepted her offer, noticing a backpack on the floor.
"Yeah, one where the whole hotel is under a big NDA," she giggled, then froze at his seriousness. "Not really. I mean, the whole staff has to sign NDAs to be hired, but when your almost-lesbian friend says she found a good server, you listen. Even more so when said server has a five out of five approval from Itzy and an astonishing nine out of nine from Twice." Karina nodded, pouting and opening her hands in the air.
One big hit to the brain after another. "Did you talk with anyone from Twice?" He asked, focused on the most pressing matter.
"Jihyo unnie," she smiled kindly. "I told her I had heard about you, and she confirmed the legend," Karina added, licking her lips, scanning him. "You know? Men are usually a bit more enthusiastic when they get a chance to have sex with me. Even more so when they'll get paid to do that."
"Oh, I am, it's just that I was—"
"Busy with your girlfriend?" She chuckled, taking him aback. "They didn't say anything else, and I honestly don't care to know more about you aside from what you can offer to me."
"Thank you?" Seungdae mouthed, getting into his role. "I am here to serve you, right? What do you want?" He smiled confidently.
"Cocky," she murmured. "Look, I haven't been with a man in quite some time, but I have hundreds of them…"
"Thousands," he raised his eyebrows.
"… at my disposal. Good for you to know!"
"Quite impossible to ignore. Just like you," he tilted his head, glancing at her boobs.
Karina smiled and rolled her eyes. "What makes you different than other servers? Other than your nine-inch cock."
"Eightish…"
"Humble, huh? I can get that and the big cock from other servers. Or toys if I want to avoid the trouble," she whispered at the end, leaning forward to tease him with her cleavage.
"Very true," he nodded, leaning closer to get a better look at all of her. "I'm good with my tongue," he acknowledged.
"I have Minjeongie for that," she smirked, letting her words sink in his mind.
"I'm good with my fingers," he added after a moment of silence.
"I got all of Aespa, plus Yeji and Ryujinie," Karina grinned, raising her eyebrow, an inch closer to him.
"That's playing dirty," he replied, leaning a bit more until he felt her breath on his lips.
"Whatever you're imagining, yes. It happened," she chuckled, staring into his eyes.
His mind ran a movie of Karina in Itzy's dungeon in just half a second. Overwhelmed with the idea, his mind plucked an old line from his memories. "I can give you the queen treatment…" he whispered, daring to gently caress her jawline before suddenly pushing her against the mattress, getting on top of her. "Or fuck you like a whore if that's what you need."
Karina pursed her lips in surprise and approval. "Tempting, but you'll need more than that," she teased him with her eyes, running the tip of her fingers through his torso.
He stared into her eyes in silence, prompting her curiosity. Then he leaned towards her lips, dodging them to reach her ear. "When was the last time you got fucked so good you actually dropped your mask?" He whispered, getting back to her mouth to kiss her, taking her gasp away from her lips.
She followed along, feeling his hand on her waist. "That was low," Jimin replied with a smirk in her natural deep voice, fisting the hem of his pants.
"Some time, then?" He joked, making her roll her eyes as he pulled her in for a kiss. The tongue technique, the tempo, the smooth way in which she unbuckled his belt as she let his hand move up to her ribs; everything was perfect.
"Show me what I'll be working with," Karina whispered, feeling his trimmed bush with her fingertips.
"As you wish," he replied, giving her another peck before standing tall, admiring the way her breasts sat on her chest while she rested on her elbows. He tried to play the professional server role by taking off his plain t-shirt with a single arm and letting his pants fall, revealing his semi-hard bulge as he stepped out of his jeans.
"It's not as threatening as they made it out to be," she giggled, stretching her leg to touch it with her toes, using the remote to close the curtains.
"Are you used to big cocks?" He smirked, letting her play with the hem of his trunks.
"Not really. But I've had my fair share of BBC," she whispered, letting his shaft spring free before taking it with her soles.
"Did Ryujin tell you anything else?" Seungdae shook his head, lusting over Karina's long legs, unable to ignore her black pedicure.
"Something about how easy it is to tease you," she scoffed, feeling him get fully hard on her feet.
"As much as I'd love you to continue, it is supposed to be me servicing you," he voiced, feeling her toes wiggle around his girth. "Unless you're actually into this."
"Force of habit," she admitted with a wide smile, standing up to hold his cock while she unbuttoned her jeans with one hand. "But you're right," she nodded.
"So," he grinned, pulling her blouse up, "what do you want?"
Her top came off, revealing a strapless bra that held on to dear life to keep her milkers covered. Rolling her eyes, Karina held her laugh, stepping out of her jeans, thinking of his question as his jaw fell. "Eat me," she whispered flirtily after a few seconds. "If you do it well, I may let you shove this thing inside of me," she winked at him, making his length bounce with her index finger.
Seungdae laughed at her unserious wink while she threw herself on the mattress, wiggling her way to the middle of the king-size bed, admiring the jiggle physics in her boobs. A bit dumbfounded, he took a deep breath and crawled his way to kiss her.
"Nuh-uh," she stopped him. "You already kissed me, and you passed. Down. No hands, understood?"
He nodded, turned on by her challenging eyes. "You know Jihyo tested me on all this before I signed my contract, right?" He voiced, kissing her clavicle and laughing when Karina firmly yanked his hair when he brushed her tit, taking him down to her flat stomach.
"I like to make my own judgment," she whispered in a flirty smile, focusing on the way he worshiped her.
"Leave the rest to me, then," he smirked, biting the hem of her panties, forcing one side down her hips, then the other, then biting the center.
Impressed, Karina cooperated, raising her hips and letting her feet caress his torso as he slid the fabric down her long legs. "Don't even think about keeping them," she said in her real tone, making him release her panties from his jaw and swiftly throwing them at her. "Thanks!" She smiled kindly, spreading her legs for him.
Heaven presented itself to Seungdae. Her beautiful legs framed her puffy cunt, adorned with a neatly trimmed bush. He leaned forward, trying to catch her smell, but it wasn't until he was almost kissing her petals that her musk hit him. Staring directly into her eyes, he kissed her inner thighs, noticing the subtle tension in her muscles, and paying full attention to her breathing as his lips got closer to her vulva.
"That feels nice," Jimin exhaled, letting her head rest on the pillows.
No reply from him. No more words from her. While she allowed herself to enjoy his lips, he focused on the task, closing his eyes until his mouth pressed against her meaty pussy.
The first profound lick released a soft coo from her lips, soon turning into soft moans that became affirmations of what he should continue doing; something he followed to the letter.
"Did Ryujinie tell you anything about me?" Karina wondered, bringing back her tension just when it was about to disappear.
"You mean?" He asked, hiding his frustration, but not missing one beat of his tongue swirling.
"You're… You're doing it a bit too well," she giggled, sinking on the bed, self-conscious about the little swaying of her hips.
Seungdae chuckled directly on her folds, licking all the way from her entrance to her clit before replying. "Only that your tits are really fun to play with," he shared before capturing her sensitive bean between his lips, sucking it tightly.
"Fuck," Karina let out, shaking her head. "Just keep doing that." She reached for his hair to hold him tightly.
Intrigued, he obeyed, savoring her as much as he could, and before he knew it, perfection. Her cute gasps, her contained breasts going up and down with each breath, her sweet moans, the rocking of her hips on his mouth, the gentle grip on his scalp, and even the little commands she gave him; everything was worthy of a painting.
Despite how much he enjoyed every bit of it, he did his best to give her more, letting her performance fuel his lust. Using his whole mouth, he devoured her cunt, making sure every crease of her tiny inner lips would get a proper lick, never missing the momentum he had with her clit, attacking it just enough to build her orgasm lick by lick until her controlled moans slowly turned into louder whimpers.
Jimin tried to resist, noticing her breathing grew troubled while she bit her lower lip and her small hand clenched tighter on his hair. He had the technique, and she enjoyed it, but the drive and the devotion to pleasure her was palpable. "Freaking Ryujin," she mumbled, shaking her head as she let go of the brakes. She tugged his hair with both hands, rubbing his face on her pussy. Slowly, she pulled his mouth to her clit and locked his face against it.
Seungdae understood and suctioned the upper part of her vulva, using only the tip of his tongue to give her that extra push to her climax. Her legs told him everything her muted voice could not. The more they trembled, the closer she was to her orgasm, and when the time came, her perfect thighs shut like a bear trap around his head.
Karina tried to push him away from her cunt, but he fought back, not bothered by pressure in his skull or the yanking of his hair. Without putting his hands on her, just as she requested, he latched onto her clit, deafened by her flesh, and fighting with her convulsions until there was no strength in her shaky legs.
"Head… I could've… Are you… That was…" Jimin panted with a wide smile, ogling his tongue while he cleaned his lips.
"Need a minute?" He smirked, walking on his knees towards the headboard to carry her in his lap, triggering smaller waves of shuddering through her body by the pressure of his arms around her.
"Don't l-laugh." She slapped him on his chest, allowing herself to be pampered by him as her hand fell, finding his rod.
"What's next, boss?" He smirked, brushing her waist.
"Oh, you're fucking me with this m-monster, that's for sure!" Karina tilted her head, feeling his length.
"Whenever you want," Seungdae patted her back. "Just remember you're not on a stage," he chuckled.
"What do you mean?" She asked, narrowing her eyes, trying to squeeze his girth.
"Just that there's no need to put on a whole show with the extra seductive movements, the extra sweet moans, and even the 'uncontrollable' orgasm," he mocked her, holding her closely.
"You may be the first man to eat my pussy and complain about me right after," she raised her eyebrows, approaching his face.
"Not a single soul would complain about it. I'm just saying there's no need to add all those theatrics," he said calmly as her grip loosened. "Remember, I'm here to please you and not the other way around. Even though I really enjoyed the performance."
Jimin buried her elbow in his stomach, but smirked at him. "The whole orgasm was real. I just look that good when I cum."
"Maybe. What about the back bending and the hands?" He imitated her, trying to make her laugh.
"I didn't want to break your neck, but you were glued to my cunt!" She scoffed with a smile, then rolled her eyes at his skeptical face. "It's not easy to drop the act, okay?" Her tongue poked her cheek, trying to control herself. "Do you know what it's like having to be flawless all the fucking time?"
"I've seen some of its consequences," he admitted, twisting his mouth. "But I know it's different for everybody in the industry. I can't imagine what it's been like for you."
Karina breathed deeply, lips fighting to keep the words in.
"Come on. You can vent with me." His reassuring smile pushed her a little further.
"You're going to learn why we don't talk about it, sir."
"I'm all ears."
"Remember you're the one who asked for it," she pointed at him, and he nodded.
Exhaling, she snuggled up on his chest to avoid his face. "It's exhausting." Her hands instantly became an extension of her voice, showing her anger as tension in her fingers. "Way before debuting, they drill the idea into your brain until you become aware of every possible reflection or every possible camera, just in case someone catches a bad angle of yours." She scoffed. "It's gotten to the point that no matter where I am, I can see myself from outside my body just to keep myself in check, because God forbid I look at someone the wrong way, and now the whole country thinks I'm a bitch! Do you know how hard it is to treat everyone kindly when your cramps are actively trying to kill you?"
Pause. Jimin turned to gaze at his calm face. Seungdae nodded gently. She continued.
"Then you debut, and of course, you offer yourself as the group's tribute to protect your members because that's what a leader does! So now you have to learn to be perfect while you're literally getting fucked by men you find utterly disgusting. They make you watch every possible angle of them using you until you've mastered how to be the perfect fuck toy for them," Karina sneered with anger, but a bit of pride. "If that were not enough, you become so obscenely good that even if your members offer themselves as tribute to give you some rest, your company still sends you with them unless your assets don't fit with their sick fetishes!"
She went quiet, realizing how tense her fingers were and how quickly she was breathing. Trying to collect herself, she faced him. "S-sorry. I didn't want to—"
"Don't be sorry," he held her tightly. "Wasn't tributing supposed to get the rest of the group out of the menu?"
She scoffed. "You would think so, but not all companies are JYPE. SM will only accept volunteers if it's convenient for them. And I was too convenient for them not to offer me to the investors."
Silence for a minute. Like every company, JYPE had its flaws, but at least they respected someone's sacrifice. 'Probably a legacy rule from JY Park himself,' he thought with Tzuyu, Jeongyeon, and Dahyun in his mind.
Jimin sighed deeply, decompressing and bringing Seungdae back to reality. "Enough reason to be self-conscious all the fucking time, isn't it?" She shook her head and lay on his chest again, reaching for his semi-hard cock to play with it, thrilled by how hot it felt in her hand. "I've made my peace with sex, if you're worried about it. I like it as much as everyone, but it's just easier for me to sleep with women," she stated with a smirk. "I really like to feel a good dick inside of me, though," she added in a very intentional seductive tone.
Seungdae held his chuckle. His mind went back and forth between what Karina just shared, the many times he had seen that pain in Jieun, and imagining what it might have been like for Tzuyu when she first tributed all those years back. Still, Jimin's voice hit all the right points in his brain to bring his erection back. "That's one way to change subjects."
"You asked for it, remember? But thank you." She paused to stare at his confused expression. "I didn't tell you anything I had not talked about before with my therapist, but I feel lighter now," she chuckled. "Unlike your cock," she smiled widely, softly slapping his member against her hand.
"I am here to serve," he replied out of words.
"Let me give you a treat for being so kind," Karina grinned, wiggling her way down to suck his shaft.
'Fuck me,' Seungdae thought, partially regretting his next action. "I'll gladly take that offer, but first," he held her by her jaw to make her sit on his lap, taking the chance to admire her heavy jugs, still fighting to be freed. "What does Yu Jimin want?" He pulled her in for a kiss that she reciprocated. While they hugged, he noticed that the more he pressed on her flesh, the deeper she inhaled, and the closer she pulled him to her own body. In a quick movement, he spun her against the mattress, keeping his right hand on her back.
"You may actually be worth Ryujin's money," Jimin purred, reaching for his dick.
"Is she the one paying for this?" Honest surprise.
"Money in your pocket and me in your arms. You must have made a really good impression on her."
"I'm as surprised as you are," he smirked, unhooking her bra and throwing it away with his left hand. "Fuck," he let out, amazed by the effect gravity had on her tits.
Jimin shrank for a moment, covering part of her face with her small hands, and stopping her breasts from spreading with her elbows.
"Guard's still up," Seungdae chuckled, kissing her again to bite her lips. "Don't tell me you're insecure about your boobs."
"I'm not! I know they look great!" She twisted her body but stayed close to his lips. "It's a little different when I'm not wearing a bra," she mumbled quickly, crossing her arms.
"Jimin, they're fantastic. I'm sure even Jihyo has told you that, and I think she knows a thing or two about big tits." He kept his smile while she nodded at his words, grimacing slightly. "What is it?"
"Men," she sighed, defeated, but finding his confused face endearing. "Mine are not like Jihyo unnie's. Hers always sit nicely no matter what she wears, and they keep their shape even when she's lying down. With or without milk, mine are…"
"Saggy?" Silence. Seungdae's mind focused so much on imagining how sweet her milk could taste that he spoke without thinking. He gulped audibly, knowing he had fucked up.
"Yes," she hissed. "I thought doing that would make them firmer, but even full, they were still… Saggy." She might as well have killed him with her eyes. "So I stopped with those damn hormones. Honestly, I don't know how Jihyo unnie still does it."
He lay on his side, next to her. While a part of him was thirsty for her, the rest of him was mad, wondering how the industry had managed to make a woman as gorgeous as Karina feel insecure about her incredible body. "Something about her mommy kink, I guess," he murmured.
"Does she really have a mommy kink?" Jimin sat suddenly, holding her laugh, showing her large, clear nipples hanging loosely, reaching the crook of her elbow.
"Is that what it takes for you to stop covering yourself?" He scoffed, triggering a real laugh from her as he admired the way her breasts became fuller at the lowest point. "You didn't hear that from me, alright?" He sat to meet her face, holding her cheek.
"Fine, fine." She kept on chuckling, letting him pull her for a kiss, guiding his hand to her bare boobs. "Do you really like them?" She asked weakly, making his fingers curl on her heavy knockers.
"Let me prove it to you," he smirked, lying her down, finally getting her nipples into his mouth.
Surprisingly for her, he remained completely quiet, enjoying the softness of her boobs and the way they moved between his fingers and his mouth. Unsure, Jimin tried to relax.
His initial licks on her left nub were adorable. It was clear he was used to firmer tits, and considering what she knew of his history, it made sense. However, he quickly found the best way to grab most of her boob one one hand, giving her a good breast massage while he sucked one of her nipples. Soon, he took Karina's milkers and squeezed them together, easily taking both nipples into his mouth, causing her to chuckle amidst her arousing humming.
"Told you there's no milk in them," she giggled, playing with the back of his hair.
"Doesn't make them any less addictive," he replied, latching onto her right nipple while his hands ran down her body.
Jimin could only focus on his touch. His firm hands held her body with such hunger, and yet, his skin caressed hers with incredible delicacy. It wasn't until his digits reached her hipbones that she realized the sway of her own hips. She caught the sound of his breathing, growing louder and giving her mind something to hold on to as she closed her eyes.
She released a satisfied giggle when their respiration synced right before his fingers brushed her folds. "Please," she moaned, holding his head and her free tit firmly in anticipation.
The following moan was loaded with relief. His digits entered her pussy, slowly spreading her walls. "Just like that," Karina whimpered at the waving of his fingers inside of her, slowly increasing their speed until they reached that of her own heart.
Even though she felt incredibly tight, her drenched petals allowed him to move smoothly inside her cunt and feel the texture of her walls. "I'd love to see these bouncing," he smiled at the way she guided his mouth to her left nipple. Subtle, but Seungdae heard a scoff coming from her, accompanied by a minute clenching of her pussy around his fingers. "You like the idea?"
She whined, clenching his hair as he circled her areola with his tongue. His digits went slightly deeper into her core, emphasizing the in-and-out motion while she fought her own judgment. "Yes," she sighed with a grin, pulling him up to kiss him. "Just fuck me already."
"How do you want it?" He chuckled against her lips, hands wandering freely over her body.
"You… You said something about… Fucking me so good… I'd drop my mask." Jimin stopped their kiss, holding his face firmly with both hands, aware that her whole face showed that desperate need. "I want that," she requested with a shy smile and a tint of fear in her eyes.
He slid his fingers out of her cunt and took them to his mouth, savoring her nectar, and bringing a wider smirk to her lips. "Remember, you can say no at any moment." He leaned for one more peck and jumped off the bed, opening the curtains in the room.
"What?" She exclaimed, watching herself reflected in the large windows, covering her body before he turned off the lights with the remote, throwing it back onto the bed. 'When did he…?' Her thoughts were interrupted by the lamp on the desk turning on, adding a warm light to the bedroom.
He offered his hand.
Fearful but intrigued, Jimin stepped down the bed and took it, letting him guide her to the windows.
"Just enough light for your body." He said, going to the lamp to make the light hit her right side, adding some sticky notes from the desk to soften the upper area.
She covered her body, but stayed there. "W-What if someone recognizes me?"
"You took precautions before coming here, right?" He waited a second, and she nodded. "If no one followed, no one would think of you if they even glance at the hotel. Plus, if you can't see your face from here, neither could they. The city is too busy," he reassured her, standing behind her and grabbing her jugs. "But some lucky guys may get to see this pair of majestic tits dangling as I fuck you," he whispered, kissing her neck while her eyes remained fixed on her own reflection.
He was right. She could still clearly see the streets. The lamp only provided a faint view of her body, right under her ribs. Anything above that was too poorly lit to produce a clear image.
"Too risky," she voiced before welcoming his fingers into her mouth, sucking them eagerly.
"Perhaps for the idol in you, too perfect for anyone to see her saggy tits hanging freely," he voiced, grabbing her heavy udder with one hand while covering his cock with her saliva before gently pushing her shoulders forward until her arms rested on the window. She gasped, instinctively raising her hips. "But I'm sure Yu Jimin would love the thrill and the praise," he scoffed, aligning the tip of his shaft against her drenched entrance, gaze freely at her firm ass and tight puckered hole.
Her heart pounded as she bit her lips and gulped audibly. "Take my phone and record it," she said quickly without moving. He hummed. "I-I'd like to see it later."
"As you wish," Seungdae whispered, caressing her buttcheeks.
While he went to the shelf next to the headboard to leave the phone recording, Jimin got lost in her own reflection, imagining her silhouette on the camera, then scanning what little she could recognize outside. Cars moving, people walking on the street, a man staring out from a window in another building.
She exhaled, feeling his glans brush against her wet folds, realizing she was still a bit sensitive from her previous orgasm. She breathed in, then out, and leaned more against the window, sending her hips back, taking his girth. "You're t-thick," she grunted, tensing her fingers and toes, slowly taking more of him into her pussy.
"And you're deliciously tight," he replied, gripping onto her hips firmly while her cunt adjusted around his shaft. For a moment, he focused solely on his manhood and the way her walls caressed his dick, enveloping it in her slick warmth until he felt a hard stop inside of her.
Jimin scoffed, shaking her head. "You'll have to fuck your way in," she suggested in a seductive tone.
He leaned forward, running his hand through her stomach and then to her left boob, feeling its whole weight, shape, and size. "You don't have to force this pretty pussy," he whispered, kissing her neck.
A confident chuckle. "I can take you whole, Hwang Seungdae." She turned a bit to kiss him, swaying her hips forward, then back, taking another half an inch of him. "Fuck me until you make me cum," she grinned, biting his lip. "That's an order," she added, releasing him and turning to the window to watch her reflection.
He complied, rocking his hips and feeling her cunt gripping onto his cock and enjoying the softness of her breasts, particularly her nipples, while he played with both of them.
This time, Jimin let her moans come out freely, flowing as her body demanded after every thrust until she chuckled at the sensation of his pubes brushing her outer lips. "Told you," she giggled proudly, clenching her pussy the moment he had his whole length inside of her.
What was meant to tease him worked, but it also backfired on her. His deep grunt, accompanied by a hard twitch on her nipples, pulling them down in a single motion, awakened her submissive side. Her moans turned into whimpers, and her arms slowly gave up any strength that kept her from resting her face on the cold glass. "F-Fuck me," she requested with a smile, watching her breath on the window, and arching her back.
Seungdae scoffed, giving a last firm and aggressive squeeze to her boobs before moving his hands down to her hips. Holding her firmly, he rammed her cunt, causing her udders to slam against the glass repeatedly.
"Mhmm!" Jimin whined, feeling the way Seungdae's manhood reshaped her insides while his fingers slid to her lower belly, pressing it firmly. Every inner sensation and the mental image became even clearer in an instant. "Just like that," she groaned, swaying her hips against him, melting beneath him.
A moment of doubt. She never groaned during sex with men. Even more so, her breathing was always controlled, and right there she was already breathing shakily, showing her teeth with half her face pressed against the window.
"Please don't stop," she begged, failing to grab his ass but digging her nails into him on her next attempt. "Please," Jimin implored, mind clouding in pleasure.
His left hand moved through her stomach, then between her bouncing milkers and up to her long neck, pressing it firmly, but leaving her throat free to whimper as her body needed. Lastly, his right hand went down to her folds.
"Y-Yes!" She shouted right when his middle and ring fingers rubbed her clit, making her torso press hard against the window, spreading her large breasts between her forearms while he practically carried her. The cold glass on her nipples made her realize she was on her tiptoes, desperately swaying her hips, adding the right amount of self-realization to surrender to her needs.
"Wouldn't it be lovely if someone saw you right now?" He whispered in Jimin's ear. She hummed, clenching her pussy. Slowly, he used his biceps to press her arms together. "I bet they would masturbate thinking of these precious tits, imagining how good they must feel in their hands."
"F-F-Fill me," she panted, moving her arms slowly to press her jugs, pressing the arm that choked her, trying to control her orgasm but ultimately failing. "F-Fuck," she muttered, feeling her climax crushing her.
Seungdae caught her, impressed by the sight, but never stopped. He ensured the camera could capture Jimin's eyes rolling back, her feet giving up, and her whole body shivering, trying to release the immense waves of pleasure hitting her from her core, turning them into muted cries. When her spasms became too strong, he renounced his own orgasm and held her tightly, protecting her from hitting her head against the window before walking back to the bed. His dick reaccommodated inside of her as he sat on the mattress at the same time her head fell back on his left shoulder. Smiling at the trail of juices she left on the carpet, he used his left hand to play with her tits while his fingers continued rubbing her clit until the climax died down.
Jimin, still trembling, turned to her right. "Bastard…" She sighed, not bothering to hide the wide grin engraved on her face.
"No more mask, huh?" He smirked while she shook her head and tried to elbow him, trying to reach his lips. He kissed her, enjoying the occasional clenching of her sensitive pussy and teasing her with little pinches on her nipples.
"You haven't come, have you?" She asked softly, realizing how wet her inner thighs were.
"Don't worry about—"
She kissed him again, slapping Seungdae's thigh. "I don't even know when you brought me to bed, but I remember very vividly asking you to fill me," she smirked.
"Don't you want to rest a bit?"
She chuckled, shaking her head. "Lie in the middle of the bed. Don't get out," Jimin requested, tightening her cunt and shuddering as a reaction.
He nodded, leaning a bit to grab her thighs and carry her in an almost fetal position. She giggled, wiggling her legs in the air while he got right where she asked her, even taking the pillows to have a comfortable view.
"Help me spin," Jimin chuckled with a playful smile, keeping her knees close to her chest and stretching her arm for him. Purposefully, she clenched her cunt to enjoy the curvature of his fully erect shaft as it moved inside her oversensitive pussy, loving the sensation until they were face to face again. "Don't hold it back, alright?" Karina smirked, straddling Seungdae and leaning back, supporting her weight with her right arm and caressing her tummy with her left hand. 'Minjeongie would go crazy with this,' she thought, rocking her lower body and pressing her womb.
The way she moved was no longer meant to be visually alluring, but rather pleasurable for herself; still, she could tell he enjoyed the view. She swayed her hips in small circles, using his pubes to stimulate her clit. Her moans were spontaneous and filled with little giggles. As she slowly increased her speed and rhythm, her udders dangled freely. Her face, however, remained perfect, maybe more so than before. Her half-opened eyes, occasionally rolling back every time his cock forced her womb to move. A smile lurked from her parted lips, trembling at times with her tongue picking out quickly, as if trying to catch something.
Even though her movements were clearly meant to please her and her only, the tightness of Karina's walls quickly sent him back to the path of his orgasm. Following her last command, he let go of his restraints, leaning forward to pull her for a fervent kiss she reciprocated, caressing her ass with his right hand and holding her against his chest with his left arm.
"Do it," she purred in his lips, reaching for his face with both hands, hips rocking harder and faster. She felt his breathing growing rougher as he finally started thrusting into her pussy. One quick clench of his cock, followed by another prolonged one. "Give it to me," she demanded in her most sultry voice, biting Seungdae's lip. "Fill my womb. I need it."
He hugged Jimin as tightly as her walls gripped onto his girth. Her sweet giggles, her sultry moans, her overall excitement, and her hungry kiss pushed him over the edge. And just like he fucked her throughout her orgasm, Jimin rode him through his.
"Yes!" She grunted, clenching her cunt at the first deep spurt of cum, hitting her depths, repeating the process to take every drop of semen out of his manhood, loving the warmth that flooded her core. "Thank you," she chuckled, tickling the back of his ears while he held on to her, panting and shaking at every conscious pulsation of her walls. "I don't remember the last time I enjoyed a creampie this much," she admitted.
"You… You didn't cum this time," he huffed.
"Uh-uh," she replied playfully, grinning before giving him a peck on the lips. "You already gave me two good orgasms, and I got to enjoy this heavy load fully conscious," she continued, taking his hand to her womb. "I am very satisfied," Jimin reassured him, clenching her pussy tightly just to hear him groan again.
"I can give you another one if—"
"Shut up!" She giggled, taking her right boob to his mouth. "Suck it while you recover. I still want to give you that treat," she hummed, enjoying his tongue circling her nipple as he held her left breast and she caressed his hair.
"I won't say no to that," Seungdae scoffed quickly, taking her other nipple into his mouth.
"You'd be an idiot if you did," Karina smirked, turning to the window. "Do you think anyone saw us here?" She pondered, referring to the bed.
"The lamp's behind you, and it's too dim to light your face for the people in the other buildings," he grinned, taking advantage of the range of her jugs to lick both nipples at the same time. "If anyone saw anything, I doubt they saw your face."
As he continued sucking her nubs, even after he was fully erect again, he saw her focused on the window. Having his cock still buried inside of her allowed him to feel every clench matching every subtle smile, purse, and bite of her lips. "We can go back there if you want."
Jimin fisted his hair, inhaling deeply and facing him, shaking her head. "You better have another load ready for m-me," she warned him while he sucked both her nipples with all his strength before releasing them.
"Whenever you want." He took her for a kiss, and she bit him before tightening her core to stand up. Seungdae leaned to see her cortch, happy to see that not a single drop of his cum leaked from her pussy.
"I'm keeping it as a souvenir," she joked, wiggling her butt proudly on the bed and jumping to the floor, laughing at the clap of her milkers on her stomach.
"Just tell me where you want it," he smirked, stepping out of bed and admiring her body as she walked backwards to the window, slowly turning to her right to face her phone, still recording.
"Here!"
"Ass and part of your tits for the audience," he pursed his lips, nodding. "Impressive."
"If I can't see them, they can't see my face," she smiled, turning a little more just to be sure. "Take it. I want to watch this as well," she pointed to her phone a bit shyly, kneeling.
"Is there a chance you can send me this?" He asked, framing her face on camera while he approached her.
"It depends on how well you aim at the end," she winked playfully, using the remnants of semen in his dick to stroke it with her small hands. "Let me have my fun first, then you'll have your treat," she grinned, licking his frenulum.
He agreed without a second thought, and indeed, it was her time to have fun, not his.
Karina took her time, playing with her grip on the base of Seungdae's manhood, pressing it right on his veins, making them pop as his whole rod grew thicker, acquiring a purple hue. She scoffed, impressed by its size and weight, measuring its length with her fists, proud to have had that monster inside her cunt. Then, she playfully slapped her face with it, getting down to his balls. "They're ready to shoot again," she cupped his scrotum, raising her eyebrows.
"I'm used to demanding women," he winked at her, charmed by the playfulness of her face.
"I'll keep it in mind for next time," she smiled brightly, sucking one testicle into her mouth, then the other, giggling at the way his eyes sparkled at the idea. "Now that's the way men usually react when they have a chance to fuck me."
"I'm way more relaxed now than before," he argued. "Same for you?"
She scoffed, twisting her jaw. "Riding you until you filled my pussy was not proof enough?"
"Oh, it was! I just wanted to hear it from you," he nodded, enjoying the little licks and kisses throughout his genitals. "Consider it my customer service survey or whatever you want to call it."
"No wonder Ryujin's grown fond of you," Jimin laughed. "Listen carefully," she grinned, holding his hilt firmly. Before he could even nod, she had already taken him into her mouth, all the way to the back of her throat, stroking him and sealing his shaft with her lips, hollowing her cheeks.
Seungdae got lost in Karina's big eyes, appearing even more prominent from his angle, and even more so with the way she blew him. Her technique was different than both his lovers, equally pleasurable. The way she sucked him, the way her hands moved, and the way her tongue swirled; not only did it look impressively dirty and erotic, but it felt incredible.
The sloppiness came next. Her spit flowed freely after she released his tip with a loud pop, quickly using her hands to spread her saliva through his length, only to impale her face with it the next second.
"God!" He grunted, feeling his glans pass into her tight pipe with a loud gag that spread through the room.
She took his hands and kept them firmly over his thighs. The show was on.
Karina blew him slowly, gurgling while she ensured he'd feel the way she took half an inch more of him every few bobs, letting a trail of drool fall to her dangling udders and almost ignoring her own body until a violent retching hit her.
"It feels great, but you don't—"
"I've taken your size in every hole before," she reassured him, slurping the thick thread of spit hanging from her lips and his tip. "I'm just out of practice," she smirked, slapping his slick manhood across her face before swallowing him again. She took a full inch more of him than before, bobbing her head and gargling quicker, touching her own neck to feel how deep into her neck he reached.
Her frustration was apparent, quickly decreasing her speed, but forcing herself to reach his pubes with her lips. Jimin shook her head and pushed herself back, which released a cascade of drool down her tits. "Jihyo unnie was right," she mumbled, quickly recovering her position and skimming out of the window. "I'll tell you when to stop."
She took his left hand to her neck, palm resting on her throat; then she took her phone from his right hand so he could grip her hair bun. 'Cute,' she thought, recording herself, watching his worried face, nodding at him before engulfing his dick in one quick movement.
Seungdae trembled, throwing his head back for a moment until Karina sank her nails into his thighs to fuck her face. 'So be it,' he thought, quickly taking control and thrusting into her face. The tightness, the gurgling, the way her neck expanded to his girth and length on his hand, and her majestic, determined eyes; a dream come true.
However, like some of the best dreams, it came to an abrupt end. Jimin tapped quickly and repeatedly on his thigh. He hesitated, but he pulled her away from his throbbing cock.
Tears ran down her cheeks, joining the drool that fell down her breasts, all the way down to her pussy.
They locked eyes. Two seconds of silence. Both laughed loudly.
"Sit on the bed," she said with a wide smile, standing up as if she were on stage: confidently, owning the place. "Close the curtains. You deserve to have this moment only for you," she added, handing him the phone, still recording.
He remained frozen for a second, scanning every part of her body: her black toenails, her long legs, her trimmed bush, her cute navel, her heavy boobs, covered in a thick layer of spit, and her wide smile, which brought him back to reality. "Yes," he said hurrily, taking the phone and reaching for the remote to close the curtains right away and adjust the lamps in the room to half their power. "No need to hide between us," he smiled, taking his place at the edge of the mattress.
Karina chuckled, biting her lips and kneeling between his legs. "Let me finish. For both of us," she whispered, taking her boobs up to his dick, enveloping it in her slippery flesh. She gawked at his glans, moving her breasts up and down on his length. Thirsting over it, she glanced at his eyes; he nodded, and she gladly took him into her mouth.
Eagerly, she used her whole torso, pressing and moving her tits up and down to pleasure him. She watched him grunt and melt on the bed as she licked his tip, feeding her own pride and boosting her performance even more. Her cheeks hollowed again, and Jimin made sure to enjoy every drop of salty precum directly from his slit.
Seungdae could not focus. Her breathing grew more profound and louder; her eyes stared directly into him, almost in the same way he looked at his partners to know how to please them next; her soft breasts framing his shaft were simply hypnotic; her fingers, maybe unconsciously, pinched and twisted her own nipples at the same rhythm she sucked him. The pleasure increased by the second, and the vacuum in her mouth was glory brought to earth.
Jimin's voice echoed in his mind. 'Don't hold it back, alright?' 'Give it to me.'
He locked eyes with her just as she was about to release his cock from her mouth. She smiled with her eyes and swallowed him, bobbing her head quicker and pressing her breasts tighter together.
Laughing quietly, he nodded at her and, save for the arm filming her, he relaxed completely. Her tits wrapped him up so kindly that he could cum just with that. Still, her tongue swirled mercilessly through every crease of his tip, applying just the right amount of pressure and friction through him. It was clear she could make him explode as soon as she could, but her goal was to make him cum as hard as humanly possible. With no self-restraint, he succumbed to the pleasure with a satisfied smile fixed on his face until he moaned. "Rina…"
"Uh-uh," she hummed back at him, edging him, grinning at his trembling hips.
"Jimin!"
In one swift movement, she let go of her udders and pushed herself to swallow his whole manhood to finish him. She reached for his free hand, guiding it to his dick while she pulled back, quickly holding her milkers so her nipples were as close to her gasping mouth as possible.
Instinctively, he stroked himself to nut on her face, shooting rope after thick rope of semen, coating her face from her lower eyelid to her chin and down to her clear nipples.
She remained still as he finished, giving him the chance to record a few angles of her while she savoured the spurts that landed on her tongue before staring at his eyes and swallowing his seed with a loud gulp. "Thank you for the facial," she purred, blowing a kiss before sucking his cum from her breasts.
"It suits you," Seungdae panted.
"Oh, I know," she replied, making a show of sucking her own tits, giving herself a playful bite on her nipple. "You should see me after a bukkake," Karina winked at him.
"Can I?" He asked, half serious. "You know? Following the idea of people seeing you like this…" He caught her full attention while he recovered. "I bet there's a part of you who'd love to walk outside just like this," he leaned forward, pointing at her naked body, but focusing on her painted face.
"That would be thrilling." Jimin raised her eyebrows, biting her lips flirtily.
"It would be very risky."
"A lot!" She confirmed, standing up.
"Shame you won't do it even though you want it," Seungdae sighed with a smirk.
"Is that a challenge?"
"Nah," he replied with a chuckle. "Unless you want to take it."
She inhaled deeply, then walked towards her clothes. "What do I win?" She asked dead serious.
"You've got everything, Yu Jimin. All I can offer you is my services."
"I don't do servers, Hwang Seungdae," she replied, catching a drop of cum dripping down her chin. He didn't reply; instead, he smirked and shrugged, observing the room and the bed he was on. "Next one's for free, whenever I call it," she sighed, pointing at him.
He nodded.
"Get dressed."
They did so quickly, but Karina put on only her jeans and blouse. No underwear. She asked him to record her again, quickly taking something into her pocket before slowly stepping into the hallways of the hotel. Her tension was palpable, but she kept walking, skimming back to see him until they reached the elevator.
"I can't believe it," she murmured to herself before facing the camera and showing her fresh facial rather proudly. She signaled him to stay there and walked to the opposite wall, quickly lowering her blouse to let her knockers hang freely for a couple of seconds before covering herself again.
"You're crazy," he whispered, shocked by her display.
"Let's take the stairs," Jimin replied, blushing through the pearled mask, guiding the way up.
She scanned the stairs. Everything was empty. Nervously, she lowered her blouse again, but this time, she walked playfully, half laughing at how silly she felt, half laughing at the way he had to re-focus the phone because he could only stare at her dangling breasts. One floor up, then two.
She inspected her surroundings again and unbuttoned her pants, lowering them enough for her bush to show on frame. "How do I look?" She smiled shyly, taking his hand to her heart, pounding so hard he felt it clearly.
"Like Dispatch's next big news," he scoffed, shaking his head, then quickly turning to cover her when they heard a door opening on the closest floor above them. Before he could do anything else, Karina was already walking downstairs, arms covering her already-clad rack, pants neatly buttoned, and her face covered with beige pieces of cloth serving as a facial mask.
He followed her quietly until they got back to her room, bursting into laughter as soon as the door locked.
"I didn't think you'd go that far!" Seungdae exclaimed, following her to the bathroom. "Where did those come from?" He chuckled, pointing to her face.
"I needed something to pretend I didn't have your cum all over my face!" Jimin chuckled, observing herself in the mirror, then smiling back at him. "Believable, right?" She asked nervously, needing the reassurance, and he happily provided it before she laughed loudly again.
"What now?" He shook his head, watching her turn around to show him the growing stain of semen in her crotch.
"You are taking me home now," she declared.
With no way to object, he followed along, watching her open the backpack on the floor, then put on an expensive wig and a cheap sweater that made her look like a grandma, partially aided by the facial mask. "Oldest and most effective trick of the book!" She joked, practicing the way she walked.
The late hour gave them a clear road back to her apartment while they praised each other for their performance and laughed again at their reaction on the stairs. Two blocks before arriving, she spoke honestly.
"Thank you for tonight. I really liked feeling a little… Adventurous. Although I'm not sure if I'd try that again," she said softly.
"The stairs or the window part?" He smirked at her, catching a glimpse of Karina's grin before turning his eyes back to the road.
"The stairs. The window is just a little safer," she giggled quietly before turning serious. "Sorry for ruining your night with your girlfriend, by the way."
"Ryujin is the one responsible for that. You… I'll wait for your call."
"Don't lose any sleep on that," she chuckled. "We're packed with concerts, comeback, more concerts…" Jimin sighed, defeated, but keeping a smile on her face. "Trust me, I'll call you again, and you'd better leave me as relaxed as I am now!" She bit her lips, hitting him on the shoulder.
"I'll do my best, don't worry about it," he winked at her. "Are you really going to walk out of the car with my cum still on your face?"
"What? They say it's good for the skin!"
Watching her go, he relaxed for a bit, taking the chance to message Ryujin.
SD: I gotta say, even though you made me get out of Tzuyu's bed, it was worth it. But next time, please let me know beforehand.
RJ: Fuck. Sorry, I was really hoping you were alone tonight.
SD: When am I ever alone at night nowadays?
SD: Wait, wtf are you doing awake at 2 am?
RJ: Too much to think, don't worry.
SD: You sure? I could go to your place for a few minutes. It's on my way back to Tzuyu's.
RJ: I'll be fine. Don't keep Tzuyu unnie waiting. Drive safe!
SD: Ok. But remember, I'm always up to talking with you!
RJ: And I'll take that offer! But I want to be alone tonight.
SD: Take care, alright?
RJ: You too.
With that done, he arrived back at Tzuyu's apartment building, thankful and still amazed that she had already given him his own set of keys. Just like Jieun, she reasoned that he could get into her place if she needed something or simply to arrive earlier to avoid drawing attention from any stalker, sasaeng, or paparazzi.
Her pets, Kaya and Butter, welcomed him quietly, waving their tails at him, but not making a sound, as if protecting Tzuyu's sleep. Carefully, Seungdae walked into her room, quietly changing to get into bed with her, trying his best to lie down at her side.
One last glance at his phone. Just three hours before his alarm rang. Feeling her presence at his right, he fell asleep in an instant.
Seungdae grunted when he woke up, confused and feeling a familiar slippery warmth on his glans. It took him a good moment to look down, finding a pair of feet going back and forth in the air, then a gorgeous pair of eyes smiling at him.
"Good morning," Tzuyu giggled playfully, quickly taking his dick back into her mouth, forcing a moan out of him.
"Morning," he replied, running his hands on his face. He could barely speak, but she saw his question right through.
She kissed his tip and used her own spit to stroke him. "You didn't move when my alarm rang, and you somehow turned yours off without opening your eyes," Tzuyu chuckled, rubbing his shaft across her face. She saw him trying his best to understand. "What would Jieun unnie think if you log in late to work under my watch?" She grinned, taking him back into her mouth.
"That… That makes sense… Damn!" He let out, mind clouded by his sleep and how good she made him feel.
"I was expecting it to taste like pussy," she smiled, cupping his glans with her hand, rubbing it in circles.
"We finished with a titjob," he scoffed, already lost in her face.
"From Ryujin?" Tzuyu asked, confused.
"Nah!" He giggled, enchanted by her cute reaction. "She wouldn't, even if he could. Karina," he explained.
"Huh?" Despite her surprise, she continued with the handjob.
He sighed, knowing he had no filters with Tzuyu. "Ryujin knows about Jin," he admitted, feeling her fingers tighten around his cock. "She mentioned Karina somewhere before or after that… It's all fuzzy in my head," he shook his head, trying to get some clarity on the events.
She scoffed. "It took me months to know that, and you told her in one night?" She pretended to be offended, but her tone let her playfulness poke through while she stroked his dick.
"I'd say a bottle of wine and some blackmailing… I'm trying to remember how it happened."
"Why don't you write it?" She suggested, quickly smiling at his confused expression. "You know how I write stuff when I don't really know how to say it?" Her dimple formed in her cheek as her eyes lit up. "Writing can also help your memory," she nodded, taking him back into her mouth.
"I could try that, I just don't know where to beg—"
Following Jieun's teachings, Tzuyu took all words out of him by engulfing his whole manhood, gagging only when his cock made it past her throat. She kept her lips at his base, causing him to hold the back of her head as a reflex.
"Holy fuck… Good learner," he grunted, staring into her smiley eyes while she proudly wiggled her meaty ass.
Next Chronicle 🦥 (TBD) →
Author's note:
So, it's been some time, but I ain't dead yet, quite the opposite! That said, I'm slightly busier this season, so instead of our usual two weeks between updates, we may go three weeks in between updates every now and then, but I won't abandon this until this arc is finished!
Also, since "TPTChr" or even "TPTC" don't quite look alright to me, I'll be numbering these simply as "Chr. 1, 2, 3..."
“I thought you said you were going to beat that one game?”
“I just did.” You flop down on the bed next to her, staring up at the ceiling as she continues her crocheting. “Now I got nothing else to do.”
“Don’t you have games that you have to play?” she asks, focus entirely on the yarn in the hands. “You have like, what, ten games you haven’t played yet since the sale?”
“I’m not in the mood to play ‘em.” You let out a deep sigh, fingers rhythmically tapping at the bedsheets. “I don’t even know why I got them in the first place.”
“That’s what you get for buying them all,” she giggles, glancing at her tablet momentarily, holding up the in-progress-cloth. “Why don’t you play that one game?”
“Which one?” You prop yourself up by the elbow, chin on your hand. Watching her fingers deftly weave the wool, admiring how good she looks. Light makeup, glasses that make her look delectably adorable, your flannel over the white top she has on. You’re not sure if she knows that a hint of the black lace underneath is peeking out, but it’s not like there’s anyone that isn’t you have the privilege to see it right now.
“The one with the big number,” she replies, tilting her head. “All about paintings, from what I remember?”
“Oh, that one.” You’re not going to tell her that you bought that game full price and not on the recent sale. A game on the backlog is a game on the backlog, after all. “Maybe I should pick it up.”
“I heard it won a lot of awards,” she adds, face scrunching up cutely when she inspects her work. “And the story’s got everyone hooked.”
“Maybe you can watch while I play?” You grin, knowing that she’ll be taking the controller from you at some point. Even on the intended difficulty, you knew how hard that game was. Add the fact that Sakura gets extremely competitive on wanting to be the best, and you’ll most likely need to add a few controllers to the cart.
“Later, hun.” She smiles, turning to look at you. “I want to finish this hat for Sana first.”
“But I’m bored,” you whine, pleading with your eyes. Silently begging for her to give you some much needed attention.
“You’re so needy today,” she teases, letting out a little chuckle at your dilemma. “Can’t you play it without me?”
“I can, but I wanna play it with you.” That makes her melt, and her hand reaches out to boop your nose.
“Sweet,” she says, making you smile. “I promise I’ll play it with you later, okay?”
“Fine,” you relent, rolling back down onto the bed. Eyes gazing up on an upside down Sakura, who’s gone back to focusing on the yarn in her hands. “Still bored, by the way.”
“I’m sure there’s something you can do,” she says, her tongue sticking out, struggling at this one part.
Her statement gets you to think. No missed chores that you can pick back up, not in the mood to head to the gym after yesterday’s leg day, don’t want to play without Sakura—
Playing with Sakura is a thought. A fun one, upon giving it much thought. You glance back down to where the hint of her bra is peeking out of that tight top she has on, and even your flannel—as loose as it was on her—can’t hide how busty she is.
You move to sit behind her, arms wrapped around her tiny waist. Pulling her close, her arms come up to face level as she leans back against you. The face she must be making would tell you that she has an inkling of what you have in store to get rid of your boredom.
She’ll still ask what you’re doing. Give you that raise of her brow as she gives you a side eye. Roll her eyes at you when you give her a noncommittal answer, like a shrug and a nonchalant “Just watching you do your thing, sweetheart.”
You let your hands slide underneath her top, feeling the milky smooth skin and the contour of her abs, fingers running through the hard muscle. She lets you, of course; continuing on with completing the beige ‘hat’ that you quite can’t tell how far along it is from being one.
Your chin rests on her shoulder, the view of her deep cleavage from the top gets your fingers feeling frisky, and you gulp at the sight. You distract yourself with a whiff of her shampoo and her body wash wafting through your nostrils. It gets you nuzzling into her neck, lips leaving a peck by her pulse, your breath getting her ticklish and getting her to giggle.
“Stop.” The playful way in her tone along with a small nudge of her elbow against your chest tells you otherwise, and your hands come to join. Touching the spots you know where she’s ticklish, getting your fingers stabbing into them lightly that gets her to reveal the melody of her laugh that never fails to get you to smile.
It gets to a point where the yarn falls down to her lap, her own hands trying to get you to stop your assault on her spots. Every giggle, every laugh—it’s intoxicating, such a beautiful harmony that you could never grow tired of hearing.
Doesn’t help that her thrashing to get you to stop is unintentionally making her ass grind against your pants, her short shorts doing wonders for your cock that’s slowly straining against your pants.
Sakura manages to end it, one way or another. In this case she puts her entire weight on top of you, trapping you between her and the bed. She grabs hold of one of your hands, getting you to stop at least half of your tickle attack. With a quick swivel around, she faces you, her messy hair along with the crooked glasses that you’re surprised managed to stay on her face takes your breath away.
God, you could stare at the visage of her angelic features. A goddess, right in your arms—such irresistible pulchritude that you’re even lucky to breathe so close next to. Combined with the fond look on Sakura's face, the softening look in her eyes, the slight shake of her head that gets her hair framing her face.
And that damned smile that gets you all the time.
“Do you have nothing else to do?” she jokes, straddling you properly, her grip on your hand loosening.
The fingers that are on her waist squeeze gently. “Other than doing you, not really.”
Sakura scoffs, rolling her eyes with a grin. “Needy and horny.” She leans in close, her lips inches away from yours. “Whatever will we do?”
“I was thinking if you can maybe, hopefully—” You raise your hips slightly, making her gasp when your erection is against her shorts. “Possibly help me out?”
“After messing up my hat?” You take the chance to look down at what’s happened with her work. It doesn’t look that bad, though that's what your ignorant brain sees. “I should leave you blue balled for that.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” you say, your free hand resting on her thigh, thumb running circles over the smooth expanse under your palm.
She raises an eyebrow. “You don’t even know how to crochet, hun.”
You reach up to fix the pair of glasses on her face. “I’ll buy you new polaroid film?”
Sakura narrows her eyes, humming thoughtfully. Her answer doesn’t come out quickly, as if she was actually debating on whether she’ll take your offer or not. It comes with a mocking sigh followed by a chaste kiss on your lips. “Deal.” She tilts her head, giving you a smirk. “How does my honey want my help?”
“Well–” you start, already dead set on what you want, running your finger down to give her breast a quick squeeze. “These would be fucking amazing on my face, sweetie.”
Another roll of her eyes. “You and your fascination with my tits,” she comments, shaking her head at your antics.
“Are you complaining?”
“Of course not.” Pulling away to sit upright once more, her legs tuck under into a kneeling position, palms tapping her thighs. “Come on, hun.”
You follow her order, laying your head on her soft thighs while she pulls the flannel down her arms, the buttons of her top becoming undone enough to loosen the fabric and give way for her cleavage. You’re already salivating at the idea of what she’s offering, arm wrapping around her waist to pull yourself closer to her chest.
Your other hand reaches up, parting her shirt in the middle, that lacy black bra of hers an even more thought reducing sight on her than you realize. The exposure has you paralyzed, the one and only action you can do is let out a quiet curse at the fact that you’ll be drooling all over those magnificent tits, followed by—
“I fucking love you so much,” you blurt out, gazing up at Sakura’s smug face, the adoration bleeding through her eyes.
“Love you too, you horny little shit.” The nickname gets you both laughing, and it’s such a stark contrast to what both your hands are doing that it’s a wonder how you two can get into these situations. Hers fishing your cock out of your sweatpants, yours pulling her bra to the side to expose the soft, mouth watering flesh underneath.
Her laughs become breathless once your mouth latches on to the pink little nub of hers, suckling on her teat like a baby. Giving them a little nibble as your other hand reaches up to grab hold of her other breast, wanting to give her as equal attention as you can. And even through all those layers, you’ll never get enough of playing with her chest.
Sakura isn’t idle throughout, spitting down her hand and wrapping her fingers around your length, stroking you languidly. It gets you moaning, your hips bucking up at her hand as your eyes close. The sweetheart that she is, helping prop you up with her palm resting at the back of your head too, making sure that you never leave her soft, warm, delicious embrace.
“You look like a baby,” she giggles, turning to focus her attention to your cock. She thumbs your slit at every stroke upward, brushing against your balls when she reaches the base, her fingers hitting your every weakness like she was getting revenge for your earlier actions. “Take your time, honey. I’m not going anywhere.”
The words only spur you on, getting you to suck harder, grope rougher. You’re in a haze of pleasure, the pink nipple you’re nursing tasting so scrumptious that you wonder how much better it would taste like if milk were to ever come out of her breasts. You can only let out a muffled noise at the concept, biting down on her nub.
Her strokes grow faster on your cock, cooing such dirty provocations watching you lose yourself. The seduction in your ear, whispering how nice and hard you are for her, feeling you throb in her hands. Her giggles are temptation symphonized, words of encouragement coming out of her in droves as you worship her. That’s it, honey, you’re doing so good sucking on my tits.
Feeding you more fantasies at every groan you let out, thrusting into her hand in an attempt to chase your release. Growing desperate in her arms, your hunger grows ravenous as you suck fervently on her bud, with the only thing that gets you to stop was a one, simple possibility that she can turn into reality.
“I bet you want to fuck my tits so bad, don’t you?”
That gets you humming excitedly, head nodding, your eyes finally opening to be greeted with Sakura’s gorgeous face—flushed and warm and grinning down at you. You pull away, and if you could get on your knees to beg, you could. “Fuck, please.”
“Stand up for me.” You scramble, your feet hitting the floor in record time, Sakura sitting in front of you by the edge of the bed. She’s biting her lip at the sight of you positively throbbing, leaking precum because of her. “Already so close?”
“Me and my fascination with your tits.” You’re putty in her hands, jerking you off slowly to keep you wanting more. And more she gives, when she’s taking off her glasses and pulling her shirt off her head to expose her bra.
She makes a show of it, pressing them together to remind you just how deep her cleavage can go, of how big her chest is under all those layers of clothing. Baggy, fit, tight—all that doesn’t matter in the face of genetics.
“Starting to think you love my tits more than me,” she says, taking hold of your cock by the base. She gathers drool in her mouth, letting it trickle down her lips and coating your shaft.
“Kkura, sweetie, you know I love you a lot more than your tits, right?” you begin, hands resting on her shoulders.
“Mhmm.” She’s smirking, enjoying you squirm. “Your point?”
“My point is–” You’re interrupted by the softest sensation in the world wrapping around your cock, your words turning into mush when she slips your cock in between her tits, bra still on to entrap you in the pillowy hold. “Oh for fuck’s sake, can I please fuck the utter shit out of your tits?”
Sakura devilishly chuckles, pressing her tits together, the velvety embrace growing tighter. “Love you too, honey.”
You’re fucked stupid, and you haven’t even started fucking her chest yet. She starts it for you instead, fucking your cock on her breasts with this insufferably slow pace, letting another batch of spit down your cock, pooling into her cleavage. And the pressure is intense, thought shattering, god you need to fuck them—
Your hips thrust up, making your tip peek up her breasts. That alone gets your thighs to tremble at the sensation, and you’re biting your lip in a feeble attempt to delay your fate. “Oh my god.” Another thrust, and that unlocks the flood gates. “I’m never gonna leave your tits alone after this.”
“Not like you weren’t already doing that.” She leans down, pressing her lips against your head when you thrust up a third time, and you can only help yourself with a curse slipping out your lips. “Starting fucking ‘em already, hun.” Another dose of spit falls down your cock. “Or are you all talk?”
The pace you set off the bat is harsh; hands gripping her shoulders firmer as your hips snap upwards. The filthy grin on her face as you watch your cock disappear between her breasts adds to the entire sight. Her hands dig down harder on her tits, the embrace impossibly tight that every thrust has the odds of you cumming down her cleavage.
And Sakura has no say as to when you will. She’s given you the reins, letting you whatever you want to her breasts, looking delighted at the mess you must look like by now. You can barely talk, completely taken over by the need to chase that high, and she knows it.
“Cum for me,” she says, those three words making you growl. Your rhythm goes erratic, and you reach up to hold onto the back of her neck. “Come on, honey. Paint these tits that you love so much.”
“Kkura, fuck–”
“Please?” It’s so innocent, the way she says it. Until the next set of words come out of her mouth, and all you can hear is pure, unadulterated depravity. “Need you to mark me with your cum. Want it so bad, please–”
You come down, taking her lips with your own as your orgasm hits, and your entire body is trembling. Your moans grow muted as the first spurt shoots up her breasts and hits her collarbone. The next few pool in her cleavage, a few strays staining her bra with your seed.
Her tongue plays with yours as you glaze her, her hands coming up to hold you upright. Her chest follows your hips, moving up and down your cock, each pulse sending another streak of white across her skin.
By the end of it you’re almost slumped against her, your forehead pressing against hers. Your lips linked with a string of saliva, her breath hot against your face. You can barely stand up, lungs in dire need of air, the only thing that’s keeping you up are your hands on Sakura and her own on your hips.
Sakura leans up to plant a wet peck on your lips before she pulls your cock off from between her bra, ruined and stained full of white. “Look at that,” she breathes, looking down at the mess that you’ve created. “I’ll need to throw this bra away because of you.”
You let out a shaky chuckle. “I’ll buy you a new one.” You move to sit beside her, but the aftereffects of your high cause you sagging into the bed.
“Hun, please.” She turns to you with a playful glint. “You’ll just ruin it again.” Her fingers run down her cleavage, scooping up a dollop of your cum and taking it in her mouth. “Yum.”
Her gaze cast downward, toward your softening cock. She takes a glance up to your face, that playfulness turning dark before she sweeps down to take you in her mouth. Your legs jolt, the sudden sensation of her tongue swirling around your length such an overwhelming feeling. It makes you crave for it when she pulls away just as quick.
“Happy now?” she asks, all casual and smiles. Like you’re not dead on the bed and on life support.
“Ecstatic, sweetheart.” You barely have the strength to reach up and cup her cheek.
Sakura smiles sweetly, taking your hand in hers, her lips kissing your palm. “Want me to get some water for you?”
“Please,” you say, and with another, parting kiss on your palm she stands up—cum painted in her chest, bra utterly ruined, and completely glowing that make you shout out—
“Have I mentioned how much I love you yet?”
“Multiple times, hun!”
As she leaves to grab some well needed hydration, you can’t help but let out a smile.
(Natty x Lovers, 3.1k Words) Tags: Natty POV, Its her turn now, Slut POV, Creampies, Gangbang, Multiple sexual partners, Orgy, Exotic sexual partners, Loser fucking, Zero hydration
"Who is she?" My voice lilts one last time over the baying university crowd, sweat dripping down my tanned skin as they howl their love and lust for me. Okay, not just me. Three other goddesses share the stage with me, but it feels like all the attention is on me, I think they all feel the same way too. The audience continues to shriek their adoration as we bow, blowing kisses and pouting in farewell as we saunter off the stage. I'm so wet it's soaking through my safety shorts, and so is the rest of Kiss of Life. That's not what makes us sluts though, any idol who says they aren't sopping after a performance is fucking lying, it's what comes after we get off the stage that makes us sluts. It's not all the sex either, when was the last time you saw an idol not getting gangbanged after a performance? It's... Oh wow. Belle and Haneul really couldn't wait could they? Those fucking sluts. Well, time to join in the fun!
My hips sway as I walk past the delicious mess our juniors are making right next to the exit of the stage, Julie sharing my laughter as our dear little whores make us proud. She has the same hunger in her eyes that I do, those perky lips of hers already moist and red with arousal, this bitch is so horny I almost consider giving the watching students an unforgettable show... Julie smirks, and mouths, later, so we keep walking instead. The path out of the temporary stadium was kept clear, the pair of us are able to circle around the vast number of people filling the gentle grass bowl to watch the performances. From our relative height we can spot the small eddies and whirls of the crowd, watching the two vortexes of Belle and Haneul drifting their way through the press. Julie scans the crowd, eyes narrowing until she sees what she is after, and with a kiss goodbye, she penetrates the living wall of students. See you later, girlfriend!
Every slut has their own particular tastes, and Julie's is hunky jocks. She just loves being manhandled by guys with more meat than brains, picked up and used by them like the petite sex toy she acts like. Which is pretty fun to watch, and my thighs moisten further as I saunter along remembering it, it's almost enough to make me turn around so I can watch, and join in the fun. Almost. Studs are boring. They already get enough pussy from their groupies, if they aren't pounding the school beauties then they have the weirdos lined up to service their cocks. So they might be good fucks, but there's no enthusiasm to them, no spice, you're just another hole they deserve to fuck. Which can be fun, but like, also boring. Nah, if you want to really get fucked, you go and find the losers.
The dregs. The perma-virgins. The losers whose only sex has been paid for or with their own hand. They want it. They want it so fucking bad. And when I open my legs for them its like dropping a fat juicy steak in front of a starving job. They go feral. They fuck me like it's the last pussy they'll get in a decade, pounding me until their dicks break or they pass out from exhaustion. Way more satisfying than some entitled asshole giving you the ol' pump-n-dump! And like any good slut, I did my research before this performance, and make a beeline towards one of the nearby buildings scattered around the stage. I slide through the scattered groups of students, losing my usual saunter to avoid too much attention. I mean, I'm Natty, of course people are going to stop and stare, but at least I can avoid getting gangbanged before reaching my goal.
Several handies and an unsurprisingly quick blowjob later, I'm inside the building, and after a few more hand jobs I'm walking towards the door I've been looking for. Idle music blares through the open windows, the breeze stirring my hair, as an announcer drones about the upcoming artists on next. Aespa. Their performances might be a bit stale, but they sure know how to make those panties drop and cocks pop. I breeze past some gawping morons (okay, I actually got spitroasted, but shush), before finding the correct room number. "The Anime Club", the piece of paper taped to the door reads, oh this is going to be so much fun. Wearing my widest smile I slam open the door and pose against the doorframe, my eyes sweeping across the startled faces filling the room, the stench of sweat and undrained balls tickling my nose, "Hey losers," I purr, "Wanna fuck?" One guy lets out a startled moan and clutches at his crotch, did he just cream himself? Oh fuck yeah, this is the right place.
I strut into the room like I own it, which I do now, shedding my clothes as I go, revealing my tanned, curvy body for these low-lives to drool over. There are girls mixed in to the press, over-dressed and with too much makeup on, no doubt used to lording over the men in here, glaring at me jealously as a lay claim to their little harem. But the smirk on my face as I glance at them tells them that this was an inclusive event, why bother having a gangbang when you can have an orgy instead. I saunter into the middle of the room, which coincidentally already has a space cleared in it, the surrounding desks and chairs kicked aside, and set my hand on my hip, "Well, do you want to fuck an idol or not?" I sigh sluttily, "Don't bother with protection, none of you have fucked enough to catch anything..." silence greets this announcement, and I roll my eyes in irritation, "That means you can fuck me raw, idiots," and like magic their clothes come flying off.
Before I can blink I am surrounded by sweaty losers, each pushing and fighting to get a handful of me, to grope my thick ass or my perky breasts, to get to kiss my perky lips with their filthy mouths. A dozen hands hungrily roam my body, clammily rubbing and squeezing my premier flesh, desperate to experience what they've watched happen a hundred times on their screens. The door slams shut behind me, and I hear the clunk of the lock, and then the screech of a table being shoved against it, and I know the only way I was leaving this room was covered in cum. Just the way I love it. Their erect cocks rub and poke at me, and soon my hands are busy once more, drifting between dicks and the occasional pussy as I say hello to them all. Then I drop into a squat so I can greet my new friends with a big sloppy kiss.
The trick to getting blowbanged is to make sure nobody gets a good handle on your head when they're in your mouth, because otherwise the will fuck your face until they- I gulp down the thick example of my lesson, some guy groaning while his cum fills my mouth; okay fine, it's not as easy as it sounds. I finish slurping and turn my head to accept the next cock into my mouth, sucking on his warm, hard meat before quickly moving onto the next one. It's fun having some guys creampie my face, but when all of them get to do it it gets boring fast. I've got other holes that need to be filled too! Speaking of which, one of the girls is doing a great job eating me out while I crouch over her face, having been scooted into the scrum on her back. She keeps getting stepped on, but I think she enjoys it. Another loser unloads into my hair from behind, just as the dick in my right hand hand explodes onto my face, my pussy starts making louder noises as I relish the feeling of being covered with spunk. Fuck it, I need to get plowed.
I rise up from the ring of smelly bodies like a beautiful flower, my gaze sweeping the room to drink in the details that I missed while I was buried in pulsing cocks. Things have gotten a bit crazy while I was down, and it looks like the orgy is in full swing. One girl is on her knees rubbing two cocks together, while another slut is taking it up the ass. Two bitches are busy fisting each other, some pervert is jacking off using one of their hair, and one of the gaudily dressed girls turns out to be a boy after all, and has her skirts up around her waist while she gets plowed from behind, her flaccid cock flopping leakily with every thrust. Hot. Well it's time to join in the fun, and I languidly lean forward while hands find my body once more, I start sucking one of the dicks being shoved into my face, letting whoever was behind me figure it out. There's some commotion behind me, but soon enough something warm and hard is pushing between my cheeks. Hopefully it ends up in my pussy and not my ass, these morons can never get it in the right hole.
To my slight surprise my pussy gets filled with throbbing man-meat, and I shudder with delight as pleasure suffuses my belly, god I love taking dick. Warmth pulses through my groin as my lover roughly pounds away at me with an almost virginal lack of skill, so greedy to creampie me, to unload his cum as deep inside of me as possible, he's desperate for it. Confident that things will work themselves out back there, I turn my attention to cock in my mouth, and start showing off a little; I am an idol after all. I take my lover's burning rod down my throat, my tongue flickering against his shaft while I swallow him to the hilt, my chin nestled against his hairy balls. Then I look up at him and wink, causing his member to spasm as it spurts down my throat. Whoops. And right on schedule, the trash filling my other hole adds his own load to the party, flooding my pussy with his sticky warmth. Mmmph.
Then fresh cocks take their places, and once more I am bouncing between two dicks, spitroasted by losers who have barely even kissed a girl, and now they're fucking an idol raw. God they are pounding me so damn hard. One blows, and then the other, and then another just empties himself all over my butt before some other deviant shoves his dick in my ass. Thin, thick, long, small, doesn't matter the size, I take them all! It all blurs together, a ceaseless plowing from both ends, broken only when a coochie gets shoved into my mouth instead of a cock, half the time they're already dripping with semen. Delicious. I won it like the slut I am, until finally there's enough of a break for me to stand up and take stock of what I've missed. I smile. The orgy is in full swing, all inhibitions tossed aside, cocks spray over quivering flesh, fingers dig into pliant holes, mouths open in groans only to be filled by sopping genitals, half the couples here will either break up or discover they enjoy a few more bodies in their relationship. I am so fucking wet.
With a smirk I lay back on a nearby table, my hair soaking in a puddle of squirt and jizz, my legs open wide in invitation for anyone who wants a taste of premium idol pussy. My first partner arrives, some obese loser with a dick shorter than my pinky, and I lick my lips as he buries me beneath his bulk. My feet kick in the air while he ruts atop me, his waist too wide to wrap around, I can't even tell if he is in me, but judging by his pitiful grunts, he certainly thinks he is. I kiss him, my tongue slithering wetly in his mouth, as his groans grow louder and more desperate. I squeeze him, and feel something in the sloppy mess of my folds, before he lets out a final whine and fills me with his virgin cum. Holy fuck. I am unable to contain a moan as his jizz pours into me, burning hot and so thick it's like peanut butter, I feel so damn full! When I finally manage to shove him off me his glutinous seed stays within me, if I wasn't an idol, my belly would be full of his baby. The thought of this lowlife knocking me up only makes me more aroused.
The next few guys use my butt after seeing the stinking mess that fatass left in my pussy, though one bitch does spend like ten minutes eating me out, which was nice. Then she sits on my face, and I get to enjoy having my asshole violated by several deviants while I gouge hers out with my tongue, she keeps squirting all over my tits. Eventually someone noticed my favorites assets are unoccupied, and soon my tits are getting fucked as hard as my butt is. God I love getting used like this. After a bit of this, the slut unmounts my face, just in time for someone to jizz all over it. I laugh with joy as more join in the fun, my skin plastered with a thick layer of spunk until some girls are jealous enough to lick it off of me. The bitches.
I am delighted to discover my next lover is that crossdresser from before, her dick sprouting from her layers of stockings. I love fucking weebs, they're always so perverted. Even if they sometimes make you crawl into a body pillow with a hole in it first. One time I got stuck in a D.VA one at an anime convention and ended up being voted the most popular stall. I honestly thought I was going to end up pregnant! Ah... The adorable girl wastes no time in mounting my clogged cunt, happy to fuck those nasty sloppy seconds out of me. Then things get even better, another guys comes up behind her and shoves himself into her ass, forming a little fuck-train. The crossdresser squeals and gasps atop me, her elaborate dress and petticoats dripping wet from where her body presses against mine. I'm pretty sure she's already cum in me, but the boys just don't stop lining up to fuck her into me, I can feel her pitiful dick twitching inside of me with every thrust. I kiss her tenderly, I love it when a new slut discovers her calling!
After that all sorts itself out, with the crossdresser ending up bent over next to some other sluts while they all get plowed by a train of losers, I move onto something a bit more intense. With a winning smile I mount some lowlife busy jerking his dick to two whores making out with jizz all over their faces, and loudly invite anyone to join in the fun. Before long I'm getting double stuffed, which is pure fucking bliss as far as I'm concerned. The idiot I'm riding creampies me within a minute, so I roll onto my side and let the room go to town on my holes; it's too bad none of these losers can last very long. I'm in heaven as my ass is plowed while my cunt is getting railed, dicks of all shapes and sizes taking their turn to use my holes for their pleasure. Until finally some perverted pair finally do what I've been wanting this whole time, and shove both their quivering dicks into my asshole. Fuuuck...
There's something so heartwarming about watching a roomful of guys discover that the best thing aside from fucking a hole, is fucking a hole with someone else. Soon the other sluts' holes are being put to the test as the deviants try and shove as many dicks into their partners as possible. I see one chubby whore taking three at once in her loose cunt, and I cheer to watch such a size queen getting stretched out like that. Meanwhile I've got four in my ass, and two in my cunt. I love playing "Stuff the Natty"! And fuck am I getting stuffed. These nasty perverts violate me with endless enthusiasm, at this point all of my holes are getting filled at once, often by multiple cocks, these losers slaking years of lust on my gorgeous body. A normal girl would have passed out an hour ago, but hey, I'm a fucking idol for a reason.
The sun is starting to set when the last deviant spends his thin seed upon my tits, before collapsing off of me with an exhausted groan. With a purring sigh I sit fully upright, and look on with satisfaction at the mess I made. The floor was literally an inch deep with sexual fluids and piss, bodies sprawled everywhere, and the stench- oh the stench! Humming happily to myself, I tiptoe through the maze of passed out losers, not even bothering to grab my clothes before I kick a table out of the way and saunter out the door; I'm pretty sure I saw them dissolving in a trashcan filled with jizz. Heads turn as the fugue of sweaty sex fills the hallway, several people puke or gag in disgust. Wearing my winning smile I sashay through the press of horrified onlookers, my only clothes the thick layer of jizz coating every inch of me. I only get mounted eleven times before I make it outside, guys can be so timid about sloppy seconds!
The sunset fills me with joy as I practically skip along the path, I just love being a good slut! After all, a slut should open her legs for everyone, especially the losers, what's the point of being a meat-hole if everyone can't take a turn? Along a knoll someone waves, and I speed up when I see its Julie. We embrace with messy squelch, both of our bodies slick and sweaty, our lips locked together for what has to be like ten minutes. We share a knowing smile, Julie found her jocks, and I found my losers, and now...? And now we bend over together and invite the line already forming nearby to use our bodies. We might have our favorites, but that doesn't mean everyone else doesn't get to fuck us too!
Who is she? A slut, obviously! Now stop staring and shove it in already!
"Quiet," Joonie whispers as she opens the door and leads you to the lounge. Inside, Xinyu and Yuki are on a couch, one on each side, feet mingling in the middle. You sit down next to your girlfriend on the other couch.
Hwiseo is out cold; you zip her pink hoodie up, and pull her blanket over her chest. You breathe in deep, then clear your throat.
"So... uh, you guys enjoy the night out?"
"Yup," Joonie leans on the armrest next to you, "would've been better if you were there."
"He's here now." Yuki chimes in. "So why don't we get started?"
"Wait," you interject, "you guys are all incredibly drunk. We can talk in the morning once you guys sober up."
"He's right. It'd be no fun without Seo awake to watch anyways." Joonie puts a hand on your shoulder. You lean closer into Hwiseo.
"Fine. But that won't stop us from having some fun," Xinyu says, crawling across the couch towards Yuki.
She grabs Xinyu's cheeks and pulls her in for a kiss. The sounds are beautiful and they're clearly trying to put on a show for you. It's working, and you notice Joonie eyeing your growing erection. You slide Hwiseo's blanket over your lap. A clear smile forms on Joonie's lips, something you spot out of the corner of your eye.
"You know you can't keep playing hard to get, right?" Xinyu teases. "You'll crack eventually."
"Yeah he'll crack for sure," says Yuki, in between kisses. "Hopefully me first."
Xinyu takes this as a challenge, pushing Yuki off her and sits down on the couch on the other side of Hwiseo. She nuzzles herself under the blanket the two of you were sharing. Her hand grabs on to your girlfriend's. She puppets it above your bulge, then rubs softly, careful not to wake Hwiseo up. You can't stop her.
Yuki approaches, then ducks down near your feet. She lifts the blanket up, and crawls underneath, in between your legs. Joonie snickers.
Your girlfriend's hand (piloted by Xinyu's own) retreats, and Yuki's reaches for your waistband. Joonie helps lift you up, as the lower girl pulls your pants and briefs down in one swift motion.
You hear a faint voice from beneath you. "Fuck. Seo was right about his cock."
"Guys, I- we shouldn't-"
Joonie shushes into your ear, her breath cooling the heat from the other women. She leaves a kiss on your cheek, making sure to leave extra saliva. She whispers, "relax, just enjoy it."
You look down at the tented blanket, Yuki says, "don't worry, it's not even cheating. Just pretend I'm not here"
Xinyu adds, "yeah, and I'm not even touching you," as she positions Hwiseo's hand on your firm cock. She folds her fingers around it, slowly starting to slide up and down. Yuki reaches up, finding your balls, squeezing gently. This gets a gasp out of you, but Joonie covers your mouth, masking the noise.
"Quiet. You can wait to fuck us until your girlfriend's awake, but let's keep this our little secret for now," Joonie states, pulling away from the wet side of your face.
"What if I can't wait?" The back of Yuki's head under the blanket rises, then stops right in front of the tent. "It's just... looking at me."
The three hands slip away, and are replaced by a wet sensation, just at the tip. This elicits a moan from you, causing your girlfriend to stir, "babe..."
Joonie latches on to Hwiseo's shoulders. "Go back to sleep, Seo." She grumbles in her slumber before settling down.
The sensations resume, the wetness falling lower and lower down your shaft, three sets of fingers twirling around your base and balls, and Joonie caressing your hair. She leans over, covering your entire mouth with a sloppy kiss. You nip at her thin lips, before her tongue invades your mouth. You let her explore; something you've always wanted to happen, despite the nature of her relationship with your girlfriend.
"Shit, I'm leaking." Joonie pulls away, before going back to laying on the arm rest. She pulls down her pants, spreads her legs, then leans into you. She grabs your hand, leading it under her panties. "Feel how wet you made me?"
"Damn, you guys really wanted to do this?"
"Mmhmm.." Joonie moans as you start to work your fingers. It doesn't take much effort before you slide right in, thanks to her abundant juices.
Xinyu speeds up the pace of her strokes, in turn making Yuki bob her head faster. You're reaching the end. It didn't take long, considering the four beautiful women surrounding you stimulating each of your senses: Joonie whispering moans into your ear, penetrating eye contact from Xinyu as she puppeteers Hwiseo, Yuki effortlessly and relentlessly vacuuming you into her mouth. "Stop. I'm gonna cum."
They don't stop. Xinyu jerks as fast as she can without waking Hwiseo up. Yuki slobbers on your head. Joonie lays into you, her face pressed against yours, with three of your fingers tucked inside her. You freeze as Yuki pulls off. Xinyu gets too fast to bear. You signal with a moan that you're ready, and Xinyu pushes Hwiseo's hand down to the base, applying unbelievable pressure around your shaft. You erupt, shooting into the blanket, in a series of pulses. The warm fluid flows down the sides of your dick, covering your girlfriend's hand in its entirety. Joonie dons a massive grin, watching the blanket turn dark, soaking up your semen.
Yuki slowly rises from the depths, hair tousled. She folds her arms, rests them on Hwiseo's lap, then rests her chin on them. Xinyu speaks first, "just so we all agree, I was the one that made him cum, right?"
"The fuck?" Yuki blurts out, "I was the one sucking his soul out down here!"
Joonie holds up a hand, reminding the girls to keep their voices down. "Either way, now we know he can keep up with us." She rises, picking up the soiled blanket, replacing it with a fresh one.
"But.. Joonie didn't get to finish-"
"It's ok dear, we've got all weekend. But for now, it's time to rest up." Joonie leads the girls, still bickering quietly to their rooms, leaving you and your girl alone on the couch. You pull your pants up, and snuggle up to her, clocking out for the night.
---
Your phone buzzes underneath you. When you open it, you're flashbanged by Xinyu's pink panties, framed by her pale skin. A short message follows: 'still soaking.' You get up, tucking the blanket under Hwiseo, heading to the kitchen for a drink. You pour a glass of water, and start to head back to the lounge, but stop when you notice your raging boner. You certainly can't go back to sleep with it, so you take care of it the only way you know how.
So there you are, in the girls' dorm kitchen, with your pants down, dick fully exposed. And there she is, the cause of your erection, in nothing but her underwear, waiting for you. "Thirsty?"
"Ye- yeah," you cover yourself with both hands.
"Don't let me stop you." Xinyu pours herself a glass of water, and leans against the counter opposite of you. "Seriously. Back to it."
She nods in encouragement as she crosses her legs, squishing together her long thighs, letting her mound bulge under her panties. You slowly get comfortable again, gradually stroking yourself, as she smiles. She tilts her head back, taking a sip, then accidentally spills water all over herself. She lets out an exaggerated gasp, sighing, "oh no."
"Where are the towels? Let me help," you offer, but she's quick to refuse.
"Just keep doing your thing." Xinyu reaches behind her back, unlatches, and pulls her pastel bra off like she's used to quickly stripping. Her small boobs fall out as she drops the bra to the ground. She approaches, points to your shirt, asking, "do you mind?"
You shake your head, then she lifts your shirt over your shoulders, using it to wipe down her body. She dabs it around her neck, slowly working its way down her chest, cupping her breasts in it. "Better."
Now dangerously close, locked in eye contact, she reaches forward, replacing your hand on your dick. Your hand moves from your crotch to hers, fingers slipping underneath her garments. You proceed to mutually masturbate in the dim kitchen, leaning into eachother, trying to mask your moans of pleasure. "You weren't lying. You are still soaking."
Xinyu nuzzles herself into your neck, letting out a soft groan, her body starting the shiver. "Fuck, faster."
Your fingers speed up, spreading her folds, the pushing into her, repeating the process, increasingly easier, and increasingly wetter. Xinyu tightens her grip around you, grabbing her own slick, using it as lubrication on your boner. She wraps her free hand over your shoulder, her extremely fit legs losing strength, as she loses composure. You support each other as much as you can while you both approach climax.
The two of you simultaneously release into each other's hands. Xinyu lets out a whimper as she convulses, and you pull her closer, masking the noise with your skin. Xinyu slows down, you release what's left, and hold on to her for a moment.
Eventually she pulls away from your embrace, unsheathing your hand, and picks up your shirt from the counter. Down on her knees, she wipes up the mess, then takes your hand and leads you to their bathroom. Xinyu grabs a spare shirt and tosses it to you, but you're interrupted by a cough.
"Uh. What're you two doing?" Yuki questions.
"He got up for a drink, but spilled all over his shirt." Xinyu covers for you.
"Yeah. Sorry to wake you guys up," you say with a meekish smile.
Yuki retreats with a furrowed brow, and Xinyu gives you a discreet smirk before you all head back to bed.
---
"Ready?"
You nod, smile so wide it almost lifts up the blindfold. The first hand grabs on to you. A familiar warmth wraps around your dick. The long nails, the tight, affirming grip; this could only be one person. "That's my girl. Too easy."
"I'd kill you if you got that wrong." Hwiseo withdraws.
"Practice round," Yuki chimes in, "now it's gonna get harder."
"Give me your hand," Hwiseo demands, "who is this?"
She leads your hand to a set of abs. She flexes under your fingertips. Such a firm tummy could only be "Joonie."
"Mhm," Joonie confirms. She backs off for a second. "Next."
A light kiss lands on your lips. Just a peck, so not Hwiseo, she would have smothered you in affection. They're soft and plump, and taste like cherry. "Xinyu?" you guess with trepidation.
"Disappointing. Still me," Joonie says with a frown (even though you can't see it, it's definitely there).
Shortly after, you're shocked by another sudden kiss, this time on your tip. "Fuck."
The lips fall deeper, accompanied by a tongue. She ends with a quick slurp, and Xinyu replies, "there! Now you know what my lips feel like."
You feel a girl straddle your chest as you lay back in the bed. "Open up," Hwiseo commands from the sideline.
The softest breast you've ever felt lands on your tongue. You pull it in, circling around the nipple as you feel her harden in real time. "Yuki," you murmur, still sucking. She moans with delight.
"Let's go a little deeper now, huh?" Hwiseo pulls Yuki off, and whispers something to the girls. "Hand."
You comply, and Hwiseo holds it open as another mystery girl sets herself down on it. She helps your fingers find the hole, and you slip right in. You've felt this before. "Xinyu!"
"Uhh.. yeah. But why'd you get that so quick?" Hwiseo teases.
"I dunno, her uh.. height I guess." You cough.
"I am the tallest," Xinyu says, patting your shoulder knowingly.
"Okay okay. Time for the final test." Hwiseo withdraws, huddling with the group. "If you guess this one right, you can take the blindfold off. Fail, and you can't fuck me for a week."
"Deal." You lay back and she returns with something in her hand. Hwiseo grabs your cock, holding it still, while using the other hand to put a condom on the tip, slowly rolling it down. It hugs you, and you grow warm with anticipation. The girls shuffle around, then one of them crawls onto you. Her thighs on yours, teasing your monument.
Hwiseo sits behind you, pulling your arms above your head. "No cheating. Just you and her pussy. You ready?"
"So ready." You exhale, and she falls down. Using her hand to guide herself, it takes almost no effort before you wind up fully inside her. It's the most welcoming feeling.
After you're acquainted with each other, she starts to move, slowly grinding herself back and forth. You can hear her cover her mouth, holding back her moans. Hwiseo's grip tightens, a comfortable amount, as the mystery girl becomes more erratic. The other girls help lift her up, before slipping back down your shaft. A small whimper escapes her lips, but not enough to recognize the voice.
You have three choices: Xinyu, Yuki, or Joonie. The weight on your thighs gives you a hint; it's probably not Joonie, she's too light. These legs have heft, she's putting all her weight in this. She's pushing so much force back and forth, digging into herself, grinding onto you. You've felt the inside of Xinyu's pussy twice, but can't determine if this is her. You can't reach for their hair, can't even smell them from this far away.
A name rings out, "Y-Yuki?"
She slows down, making more sensual movements, then Hwiseo takes the blindfold off. There Yuki is, riding you with all her might. Her short hair swaying just over her shoulders as she oscillates. Your hands are freed, and your first instinct is to reach for her boobs; you couldn't get enough from your earlier taste.
"I told you I'd be the first to fuck you," she says with a smirk.
"You did say that. And, fuck- it's worth the wait," you manage to spit out, amidst hefty thrusts.
Hwiseo is watching from the sidelines, completely enamored, while Xinyu and Joonie help Yuki ride you. Thankfully you already busted twice today, otherwise you wouldn't last another second. Yuki's pussy is sliding effortlessly along your shaft, and with the other girls there it's almost too much to handle. But you can't get enough.
Yuki's pace quickens to an almost impossibly fast speed, as she nears completion. One of her tits is gripped by you, the other is falling into Xinyu's mouth, and Joonie is rubbing her clit faster than she can ride.
Finally, Yuki combusts, with a long moan, and slouches over. She's left whimpering as you pull out, condom slick with cum. Joonie pulls her off, then Xinyu replaces her. She doesn't give you time to react before she's bouncing on it too.
"Give him a second, will you, Xinyu?"
She's impatient as ever, but you don't get to watch for long before Joonie's on top of you. With one knee on either side of your head, she sinks down on to your face. You give her slit a lick from top to bottom, before parting her lips, and entering her. She slowly rocks back and forth while Xinyu pounds herself onto you.
You can hear Hwiseo above you making out with Joonie, as a small dribble of cum rolls down your cheek. Your tongue's already tired, but you keep going, pulling her into you, trying to reach every place possible.
After minutes of riding, Xinyu reaches the same high as Yuki, bursting onto your stomach, then slouching over with a satisfied moan. Just Joonie left now, last one standing (or sitting rather). With the help of Hwiseo, you manage to push her to her limit, both of you rubbing her clit, with you taking light nibbles at her flesh. You cup your mouth over her entrance as she erupts, squirt coving your face, flying onto Hwiseo.
Gush after gush pours out, until you need to push her off for air. Joonie rolls onto the bed, you gasp, and Hwiseo wipes the squirt out of your eyes. "Holy shit."
Your girlfriend's not done with you yet. She pulls you by the arms to the edge of the bed, standing you up. "Now my turn."
She lays back, and you position yourself at her entrance, as hard as you've ever been. After holding eye contact and a brief nod, she yanks the condom off, ever eager to get you inside her. You close your eyes, and she pulls you in. You slide deep into Hwiseo, something you've done a hundred times, and still feels just as amazing as the first. She's gasps at your entrance, then exhales slowly once you're inside. You follow suit, then open your eyes, in awe of the four girls in front of you. The bed creaks, following the motion of you driving your cock into your girlfriend, as the rest of them play with each other. You grunt at each thrust, while Hwiseo gasps. Her boobs are bouncing rhythmically, as your hands grip onto her meaty waist.
She doesn't take long to reach her breaking point, after edging herself while you fuck her three best friends. She lets you know she's there with her erratic gasps, and you up the speed as fast as you can.
Hwiseo shatters, her cum flowing out onto the bed. You don't stop. You keep railing her through her orgasm. Her head falls back, as her body shifts along the length of the bed. Fully soaked, she lets out one more moan before falling fully apart.
"Hnng, where do you want it?" you barely manage to get out.
"Mm tummy." Hwiseo stretches out, giving you the perfect canvas. She grabs her tits, one in each hand as you pull out, and ready yourself above her.
You let out a harsh groan as you shoot onto Hwiseo's stomach. Your ropes land on her, cum pooling at the creases in her muscles, and her belly button. You get lightheaded as you unload, but you give her everything you have left.
"So hot." The girls coo from the sidelines. "Paint her."
Xinyu's earlier escapades and the 'group session' drained you hard, but Hwiseo always finds a way to milk the most out of you. After you're done, you switch places with Yuki, laying next to Hwiseo.
"Next time I want it all. You're gonna shoot on me, okay?" Yuki requests, as she gathers your cum in her hand, cleaning up your girlfriend.
"Fuck. Please let there be a next time, babe."
"Of course. After seeing how well these girls treat you, who am I to refuse." Hwiseo gleams. "Three orgasms in twelve hours? You'll fit right in with us."
Your smile drops.
"Wait, three?" Yuki questions. "I knew Xinyu was up to something last night!"
Hwiseo grabs your shoulder from the side, "I was awake the whole time."
You breathe a sigh of relief.
"Even if I wasn't, waking up with a sticky hand is pretty damning evidence, you horny fuck."
"That may or may not have been part of the plan, but it was hot as fuck." Joonie snickers.
The five of you lay back on the bed. An interesting series of events, for sure, but one that hooked you in. You can't help the smile from growing on your face, just imagining what you'll do with this group next.
A few days had passed after you and Tzuyu met at the arcade together. The two of you were in the ambient purple lights inside one of the many game rooms there were. The close proximity, the subtle touches she left. The kisses on your cheek you got whenever you won those stupid rigged machine games followed by a full kiss on the lips? Heaven. Tasty. Even sinful. Kissing so much that her lips had gotten a tad swollen, expensive lipstick all over the collar of your polo shirt. You were just indulging in her lips and how soft they were with the whispered tease of her sucking you off again but this time, in the photo booth close by? Yeah. You were having it good.
Unfortunately you did not get that second blowjob, but rather, you did get some amazing oral sex for your troubles. Her perfume was still locked into your black hoodie as if the fabric was soaked in it. You even occasionally took a few whiffs saying you just wanted to check if it smelled the same.
It smells like her and you just wanted to keep indulging.
Now, we get to the present moment. Let’s just say that Tony was not exactly believing what you were giving him as information.
“What do you mean she gave you a condom?” Tony looked at you simply out of bewilderment. He was not believing any of this shit. No way that someone as hot and talented as her would ever choose you like that. What Tony did not know was that she also gave you the most sensual blowjob in your life. You say it to yourself with utter confidence in your mind that it is so. With a sigh followed by a waft of your hand over your head.
“I meant what I said, dude. She gave me a condom.”
Tony chuckled and took a heavy sip of his beer from its glass bottle. A swallow and a shake of his head. He was not buying the whole condom statement and now you were thankful that you did not tell him about the head you got after the shoot. Though his comment didn’t affirm it.
“Mate, I want to believe you. I just…cannot believe she would want a guy like you-”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You interrupt, only getting a shrug from Tony.
“You’re impulsive when it comes to girls, mate. You commit until it gets too hot like putting your hand in the fire you created. You can’t start a fire and then not attend to it to keep it burning.” Tony nudges you firmly and tosses the empty bottle into the waste bin. A firm hand slapping your back.
“I gotta get to the wife. She wants some dinner and it is my turn to cook. We’ll catch up brother. Take it easy, you’re clenching your jaw again.”
Tony grabs his keys in stride as he walks out of the front door of your apartment. The door opens then closes in the same rhythm. The only sound in the room was the bluetooth speaking playing ‘Catch Catch’ by Yena. How in the fuck did that get on the Pandora station? It was supposed to be ILLIT, but good ‘ol Pandora. You groan and reach for your phone on the couch next to you deciding what to play next. When your phone displays your lock screen which was of you and Tony at the bar with two beers in each hand. Then, a message pops up.
Choo: Hey. Are you free? :)
Your heart throbbed in your throat and your head gained a dull aching against your temples. Perhaps it was one too many beers? Nah, you were not a lightweight. You had 4 bottles and you felt okay. However you open your phone and just reply carelessly.
You: Yeah, just got done having some drinks with my brother. What’s up?
It was not long before she replied to you again. Just fifteen measly seconds.
Choo: By chance…do you still have that condom?
You: Of course I do. It was a gift for the next time I think I will get lucky at my next session.
You send the message with the intent of it being a joke to lighten the mood for yourself, but when Tzuyu reads the message there was not an immediate response like the last message. Instead, a few minutes go by. You wait. Unsure if you were stupid or just genuinely curious about her reply. Then, your phone dings. A voice note from Tzuyu? You raised a quizzical eyebrow before hitting play. A hand wrapped around your beer as you wondered if she was put off by the comment.
“You sound pretty confident about your next chance. What if I told you you’re getting another chance, tonight?
You quietly clutch your beer in hand and then, you feel confused by what she said. Did she say…tonight? As in, today? Your fingers start to slowly type but it was then you stopped. A feeling of familiarity kicked in when you saw the three dots. Then another voice note came through. This one was longer than the last.
“You like that idea, don’t you? I will be there in 20 minutes. Don’t be too drunk, okay? I will see you soon.”
Now, you felt your heart thumping like a drum of war. You double tapped the voice note to leave a heart and quickly put your phone down on the table. The bottles were then tossed into the waste bin while your fingers fumbled the jacket you had on. She was coming over and you felt indecent, unprepared. Mostly, considering you had a condom ready. In those final moments your thoughts had settled because the doorbell rang to your apartment. Of course it was based on an intercom system. So you press the button to speak.
“Who is it? I don’t want any Girl Scout cookies.” You said, halfheartedly with a hand on your head. After some shuffling on the other end you heard her voice. The voice of the woman who had led you on for a while.
“If you don’t want my cookies, then I can just leave. I think you want a taste of what I have…know what I mean?”
Your throat closed up with words unable to escape. You needed to play it cool. After you slowly exhale to yourself you would chuckle and open the door. She was standing there in a sleek black dress and boots. Large boots to be exact. As you gawk, the scent hits your nose. It was sweet, fruity but ever so melodic to your nostrils. You exhale and offer your hand.
“Please. Come in.”
Tzuyu takes your hand with her left hand as she steps across the threshold of the apartment. She beams at you with a grin while looking around the place. You had some house plants here and there, it was clean as well. She smells notes of cinnamon and maple while turning to face you. Her hand then stroked that ever so obvious bulge in your jeans.
“You missed me. I can tell.”
“I didn’t make it obvious, did I?” You mused in reply.
It was not long before that had literally unbuttoned you then held that cock in her hand. Tzuyu leans close as her lips part and shine in that dim light of the kitchenette. She smiles at you. God that smile could make you do unspeakable things.
“Give me some sugar. You can’t just leave me all exposed like this..” A plea disguised as a snarky remark.
Tzuyu shakes her head at you and wags a finger while pointing at the cans you had drank. She didn’t want the taste of beer on her lips. Her hand now peeled your boxers down in a slow motion. The agonizing feeling of fabric just clinging onto that erection of yours left you breathless but only briefly. Her eyes staring into your soul while both hands seemed to want to stroke it out and wring it dry. The erotic squelch of her hands going up and down fills the corner of the kitchenette. Her lips part as she kisses your cheek and within a second just grabbed the counter behind you and pushed you against it. You kept your balance but now find yourself pinned.
“Ow-...take it easy Choo. I don’t have a good stance here-”
“Shut up and take off your pants, now.”
Her voice was low and alluring to your ears. You glance at her with a confused look but you don’t delay the process. Your jeans and boxers are soon tugged downwards by your own hand as Tzuyu looks up at you with a sneer. You meet her gaze, and shrug.
“You must be feeling very confident today. I mean, I thought I was going to be the one wanting this but you came to me. Just like it should be, right?”
Silence on her end as she just looks into your eyes with her finger tracing your chest. A wordless command to you and that meant one thing. Stop talking, and that means right now.
Within the moment you clammed up and just started watching her hands stroke you again. The air enters your lungs and leaves them simultaneously. She keeps her eyes on you as the precum now spilled over the edge and onto her hands. With one hand she licks her freshly done white nail which cleans your mess off her fingers.
“Damn…it’s like that? You’re not gonna guide me through it like a few days ago?”
Again, silence from her side as her hand now stops at your base and goes into a squat. Your heart pounds against your chest as now her lips engulf your tip and suck hard. Her cheeks hollow as her hand lays against your abs. You softly groan and reach for her hair just to hold it so it wasn’t in her eyes. After doing so she begins licking from base to tip slowly. Her soft lips pressing against your shaft the whole way up to the top. The moan you stifled came from your diaphragm and Tzuyu smiled at the sound you made. It only made her go even slower now.
Her eyes close while her mouth would do the absolute best with taking your shaft and swirling her tongue around it. You felt your stomach get tingly while watching her. You stifle another deep moan and she releases your cock from her lips with a pop. Her breathing was slow and a giggle followed.
“Your turn.”
Tzuyu stands up in front of you and guides your hand to the space between her thighs. So supple and warm as you gently squeezed one. Her breath hitches instantly upon grazing her skin but her hand pulled you against the center of it all. The warmth of her pussy was against your fingers. You were hesitant to touch but she gave you a smile with a slow nod. You oblige and press into the folds hidden by the fabric of her panties. It drives a series of moans from Tzuyu but you liked that. A chance to make her feel like she was the toy. However as your fingers were pushing inside her hand grabs the base of your cock and strokes. You jolted slightly as you were more sensitive than you remembered.
Your phone began to ring just as you were removing your fingers from between her sweet thighs. Your eyes look over at your phone and see it was Tony calling. You shake your head and stifle a moan again, reaching over to decline the call. Then Tzuyu would slide the phone over to you, coaxing you to answer.You swallow a lump as Tzuyu stroked your cock and answered as normally as you could.
“Yo…Tony?”
“Mate. I left my pack of smokes there. Could you find them for me?”
When he mentions the pack of cigarettes to you, Tzuyu with your cock still in her grasp would raise them to your chest with a smile. You chuckled and nod.
“I found them for you mate. I am…surprised to say that you left them.”
“Yeah, me too. I guess I was in a hurry to head home. I wanted to get home to Angelina quickly.”
Tzuyu then slowly pulls out a condom from her bra and rips the corner to open the package. Your heart speeds up again as she puts it between her teeth as her hands would lift her dress up and expose her black panties. She then slips them down and around her boots, gently placing them onto the counter.
“Yeah. Tony, I will call you back in a little bit. My landlord and I are talking about the noise complaint I got yesterday.”
“Noise? Ah, I bet it was from when we were talking about Tzuyu. Hey, I should tell you this. I actually met her a few days before you did but did not realize it. I also met someone she called Strawberry? She seemed like your type too.”
As this was said Tzuyu smiled ear to ear now wiggled her ass to you as she leaned on the counter. So she did know the whole time. The condom was handed to you as you replied.
“The photographer chick that messaged me about her? You’re serious?”
“Yup. Her name was…Chaeyoung? She was a really sweet lass. Shame she didn't want to talk with me. I will let you go, call me back.”
The call ends as Tzuyu was smiling back at you as your cock was twitching from the sight of her. You began to put on the condom which was fitting nicely. You shake your head at Tzuyu.
“You knew the whole bloody time because of Chaeyoung and him talking when you met him. I cannot say I am surprised-”
Tzuyu reaches behind her and pulls your shirt to lead you closer to her waiting pussy.
“Stop making me wait, please?”
Your eyes blink and you line yourself up with her pussy. Just slowly pushing inside drawing out a moan from Tzuyu who was tight, just as you imagined after the Arcade date you had. Your hands slowly grasp her hips with your first few thrusts being slow. Paced to match your breath. You wanted to cherish this. Her moans are soft yet laced with her own pleasure now filling your ears. Her walls hugged you tight with the condom slick from her juices.
You couldn’t help but slow down at this point. After the blowjob with just pure foreplay before that you knew if you went faster you wouldn’t last long. Unfortunately for you Tzuyu wanted it to be faster. In the middle of your euphoric high Tzuyu grabs your shirt and tugs to get your attention.
“Take me. After all the things I did to you I know you want me, so, act like it.~”
The words caused a warmth in your chest you never felt before and you grabbed her hips and racked your hips, slamming into her one good time. She gasped and smiled at the sudden cock which now thrust into her. She moans with a hand on your shirt. Your thrusts pick up in a rhythm that makes her swoon.
You had no plan on stopping once you heard her encourage you, or rather, demand you to keep going. Your hips keep the requested pace and your feet stay planted. Your breathing picks up now as you stifle your own moans while listening to her goading you to just keep giving her what she wants. However as you discovered earlier your second wind gives way. Your core quivered as you grunted softly.
“Tzuyu…I can’t hold it in. I’m gonna cum-”
Tzuyu would push her ass against your waist and reach around to hold your chin. She giggled while her hair was in her eyes. She panted while she grinds her ass against you. Her walls tighten and your hands would listlessly grab her hips. Your body jolted as your orgasm came finally and just as it did she moves herself away and watches the condom fill with your semen. Her lips shimmer in the light, her eyes gleamed as if she saw through you. You relaxed your hands.
“Good boy.” She muses with a kiss being planted on your cheek.
Tzuyu would gently stoop to a kneeling position and remove the condom slowly to ensure the semen didn’t come out. You shiver a bit at the feeling as your head leans back. With a grin you shake your head.
“Still no kiss?” You tease with a hand on her cheek.
Tzuyu shakes her head and puts the condom in your hand. Wet and sticky, warm most of all. You slowly look towards her and watch as she kisses the tip of your cock with her soft lips. You quivered at the sensation but she just kept going. You grunt and shake your head.
“Tzuyu…I…came already..” You managed to mutter to her.
“This is your kiss you wanted so badly. Say thank you.” She mused back.
Your eyes widened as she kissed your tip again and just let her tongue run along the head of your cock. Staggering into the counter behind you, you felt the air in your lungs seep through. You were panting faster and couldn’t hold your moans. You stifle them by biting your lip but Tzuyu just keeps rubbing her plush lips against your cock.
“Thank-..” You managed to choke out a word but she doesn’t stop. Her mouth takes all of you at once and your body feels like jello again. Your hand presses into the counter and your eyes closed. You could hear those heavenly noises that came from her lips. She slaps your abs with a firm hand, and it stung more than usual.
“Come on…just do what you did at the studio. Make me happy. You want me to be happy right?”
Your hips reply instantly. Your cock is plunged between her lips to shut her up. Even if it was brief. Her hum after that sent a vibration to your cock and you just groaned with the pleasure reaching a new high. Your next orgasm was more intense with your body shivering for just a moment while her lips were now coated in cum. She gasped while putting her hands under her chin to not get any on her dress. Thankfully she didn’t. Not a drop missed.
“Now…you’re gonna help me.”
Tzuyu hops onto the countertop which had her facing you with her back to the front door. She leans back a tad and spreads her legs enough to give you a peek at her pussy. It was soaked. Dripping even. Your eyes were blessed at the sight and you slowly made your way over. Sitting on your knees and taking in her scent. Your nostrils flared and your eyes closed. Then, your tongue would lay flat against her wet snatch. Tzuyu jolted and grabbed your hair.
Tzuyu moans softly while your nose pressed between her lips as your tongue was busy lapping against her sweet clit. Her hands firmly pulled you in. With not much air to breathe you just keep licking and sucking up until you take a breath with your lips just barely away from her pussy.
“Uh huh-...get back over here. You’re not done at all.”
She barked down at you as she pushed your head away before pulling you back into the sweet treat between her legs. Your mind was empty as you peered up at her. All she did was hold you there as you grinded against her. Her eyes closed shut as she moaned out loudly with a gasp. She was reaching it, finally.
“Shit-..don’t you fucking move. Stay- Oh shit I’m gonna-”
With a stifled squeal by her own hand covering her lips she reached her climax at the expense of you breathing for a just a few seconds. Her nectar would rush against your tongue and the warmth increased from her womanhood. Her left leg wrapped around your shoulder acting like a weight against your back. When she did let go you sat on your ass and could feel the remnants of her nectar sitting on your chin. Tzuyu stands up and kneels down to you. You smiled at her and she smirked back.
“Let's take some pictures. I think you'd like that.”
You blinked with a smirk on your lips but when you blinked the last time, you saw the ceiling of what should be your bedroom. Hours had passed from that time and your head was in a haze. Your shirt was still on but you were just in your boxers. The moonlight has crept into the room and left a glow on the farthest wall from where you lay. Your hand lazily reaches to the left and finds your phone. For an odd reason you couldn’t remember right away what had happened a few hours ago. After activating your phone you realize it was 3 in the morning.
“Fuck…it’s 3 am? What happened? Shit. I knew I should have stopped after five beers…”
Alcohol and you don’t mix well at all. It was apparent to the outsider looking in. As you sat up you smelled a familiar scent on your shirt. Then, the memories flooded back. The teasing, the way she goaded you into the palm of her hand the whole evening. You rub your eyes with a weak finger and then open the gallery.
“Oh…shit..”
34 photos were added to the camera roll a few hours ago.
34.
Your heart thumped quickly as you looked at the collection and just looked over them all. Most of them were Tzuyu sitting on the couch with you. Then there were the ones that needed to be in a Your Eyes Only folder. One in particular was when Tzuyu was sitting with you on the couch and she was half naked. Breasts out and her panties were barely on. The album itself was something to behold for your eyes. You vaguely remember her telling you take a few pictures and it seems you did that to the fullest.
You open up the conversation between you and Tzuyu and find a flurry of those photos that the two of you shared. Within a moment, you noticed one of the messages she sent you.
“I wish I could have stayed with you. But I had to get back to the hotel. Big performance in a few days and all of that.”
Upon reading the messages further you learn it was a Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. Learning as well that she had to travel for the event. When you asked why she was telling you all of that she then sent this message.
“Well…I will need my photographer with me. My Label doesn’t send one with us unless we ask, plus, VOGUE is doing the event. However, I need my own photos to post.”
Scrolling down further you could only see where she convinces you to come with, even just to confirm that she would pay for your flight to the U.S. A lot of promises but you knew she would deliver. The concern was in your head though; what about the other members? Did they also know you and Tzuyu were seeing each other like this besides Chaeyoung? Only time would tell at this point. It was something the two of you would discuss later. Not much longer though, since the event was in a few days. Two days to be exact. Further detective work shows that your departure was scheduled for the night before the event. It was a deliberate move on her part, certainly.
If only you were ready for what was coming next.
Days passed now, and you stared directly into the mirror of the master bathroom of the Hotel you were staying at. New York City still felt unreal to you in a way. However there was only another thing you couldn’t believe. The whole event was underway in 30 minutes. 30 minutes of prep before the actual show begins. It all just flows by in the blink of an eye.
The venue was packed with people shoulder to shoulder in the seats that sat adjacent to the runway on both sides. People from all over had been here it seems. Some actors, some famous figures in entertainment. Your focus was the Taiwanese Idol who had been in your head, on your cock, and just everywhere you look. Luckily for you, you were heading backstage to where the group was. Well…four of them. Park Jihyo, Hirai Momo, Im Nayeon, and of course your Taiwanese doll, Chou Tzuyu. When you went around the security detail who were where the girls were, Jihyo immediately clocked you on the spot.
“You must be y/n. Pleasure’s mine.” She spoke with a certain poise. The poise of a leader who knew her way around the events similar to this. You admired her demeanor.
“I am, Miss Park. I am Tzuyu’s photographer.” You say in response with a nod, flashing the badge given to you by the event staff.
Nayeon gave a glance of confusion. “Eh?! She hired you? Nice to meet you. She's mentioned you before, but, I didn't think you would be so handsome."
Nayeon gave off the ditzy vibe to you. Still as cute as a button though. Momo stands erect and bows at the waist. A quiet one, it seems. For some reason, you could not help but smile when you had laid eyes on her. You bowed back out of respect. As you did so Tzuyu came around the corner with a smile. She looked stunning. A pink button up crop top with a frilly pink bra you could not help but notice how it gave her breasts more definition. A decorative skirt with it complimented by boots covered with pink fur all the way to just below the knee. Your eyes stayed up to her face as she approached you. She would address the other three in Korean so, you felt left out but afterwards, they shared a laugh before the other three departed to the dressing room to get their makeup touched up a bit.
“I really have to behave tonight, don’t I?”
“Being a good boy won’t hurt you at all. Come here.”
Tzuyu meets you halfway and places a kiss on your lips. Her lipstick had fruity notes attached, perhaps it was a peach flavor? You could not tell unless you kept tasting her lips. Just as the two of you pull away she gently touches your stomach and rubs her nails down towards your belt.
“Stay with it, just like usual. Got it?”
“Yeah. I got it. Just give me a twirl so I can-”
Tzuyu shoves you gently on the shoulder and wags her finger at you while walking away. Damn. You could get used to watching her leave at this point and time. Despite the obvious erection flowing in your slacks, you head back out to the main area and prep your camera for the flicks and scenes of the show. Once back in your position, the show begins. Even when the time escaped you with all the sights and sounds your mind was focused on one subject. When she finally came out you snapped photo after photo as you were supposed to do. The atmosphere was contagious with people singing along to the group performing ‘This Is For’ with ease, and elegance most of all.
Still, you had her photograph on the screen. Plus, you intended to keep that one for yourself.
I just wanted to say thank you so so much for the support on this little fic of mine! By the time this one is posted Part 3 will be entering the drafting phase. Again, I appreciate all the notes! The first part has over 400 notes as of right now and I am excited to share Part 3 with you. Stay hydrated and healthy!
The villa sits at the end of a private drive, half-hidden behind a wall of bougainvillea that's spilling pink over white stucco. You park where the assistant told you to, grab your case from the trunk, and take a second to roll your shoulders before walking up.
Doesn't matter how many of these you've done. The fancy ones always make you check your collar twice.
You press the doorbell. It chimes somewhere deep inside the house, then nothing. You wait. You're about to press it again when you hear footsteps coming closer, bare feet on tile by the sound of it, light and quick.
The door swings open. And there she is. Jenna Ortega, wrapped in an oversized bathrobe that's clearly hers and clearly too big, the sleeves swallowing her hands so only her fingertips peek out. Her hair is damp, dark strands sticking to her neck, and her face is bare, no makeup, just those faint freckles scattered under her eyes and across the bridge of her nose. She's smaller than you expected. People always are.
"Hi," she says, looking up at you with a smile that's already halfway to something mischievous. "You're the masseur, right? Please tell me you're the masseur and not somebody selling me solar panels."
"That'd be me," you say, and you give her your name. "I'm with the spa your assistant booked through. Sorry if I'm a little early."
"No, early's perfect. Come in." She steps back and holds the door for you, which is a small thing, but you notice it. A lot of clients at this level let the door hang and expect you to manage. She doesn't. "I'm Jenna, but you probably know that. Or maybe you don't. Honestly that'd be kind of refreshing."
"I know who you are," you tell her, stepping inside. "I try not to make it weird, though."
"Good. Make it weird and I'm docking your tip."
The inside of the place is exactly as nice as the outside promised. High ceilings, big windows, light pouring in across pale wood floors. There's a half-empty mug of tea on a side table, a phone face-down next to it, a hoodie thrown over the back of a chair. Lived-in, despite the showroom bones of it. You ask her where she'd like to set up.
"Okay, so, this is going to sound bougie," she says, leading you through the main room with that quick barefoot stride. "But this place came with these massage tables? Like, they were just here. In a whole room. So I figured, why not actually use them instead of letting them collect dust."
She pushes open a door and there it is, a proper little treatment space, two padded tables and soft lighting and a stack of folded towels that look untouched. You set your case down in the corner.
"Is this your first time getting a professional massage?" you ask, already starting to lay out your oils.
She laughs, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed inside those too-long sleeves. "Don't laugh at me, but yeah. First time. I know, I know, twenty-three and I've never done this. I just never sit still long enough."
"I'm not laughing," you say. "You'd be surprised how many people wait until their body forces the issue."
"Yeah, well, the body has officially filed a complaint." She rolls one shoulder and winces, and it's genuine, not a bit. "Press tour just wrapped. Three weeks. Different city every couple days, like, four hours of sleep, sitting in chairs answering the same questions over and over while smiling like my life depends on it. My neck is basically concrete."
"We'll take care of it," you tell her. You mean it, too. There's something satisfying about untangling a body that's been through it.
You run her through the package quickly, what it covers, full body, deep tissue where she needs it, how long it'll run, that she should tell you if anything's too much. She nods along, watching your hands as you talk more than she's listening to the actual rundown, you think. When you finish, you gesture toward the table.
"Whenever you're ready, you can lie down. Face down to start. You can use a towel to cover yourself.”
She gives you a look, something light dancing in it, but she doesn't say whatever she's thinking. She just slips out of the room for a moment, comes back having ditched the robe for the towel and a pair of small underwear, and climbs up onto the table. She settles face down, arms tucked, cheek turned to the side so she can keep talking.
You warm the oil between your palms first. Then you start at her shoulders, and the second you press in you can feel exactly what she meant. Knots like marbles under the muscle.
"Oh my god," she groans into the headrest. "Okay, that already hurts in a good way."
"You're carrying a lot up here," you say, working slow circles into the tight ridge along her neck. "Have you been doing all this with your shoulders up by your ears?"
"Probably. That's just my permanent state of being." A pause, then, "So how long have you been doing this? The massage thing?"
"Years now. Long enough that I stopped counting."
"Was this, like, the dream? Little kid version of you, big plans to rub strangers' backs?" There's a tease in it, but it's warm.
You smile even though she can't see it. "Not exactly. It wasn't what I pictured for myself, no. I sort of fell into it. But honestly it's not a bad way to spend a life."
"How come?" she asks. She's relaxing under your hands now, you can feel the muscle starting to give, the stiff line of her spine easing.
"It's good work. Taking care of people. Somebody comes in wound up like a spring and they leave actually feeling like a person again. I like being the reason for that."
She's quiet for a second, and when she speaks again the teasing has softened into something more curious. "That's a really nice answer. Most people just say money or whatever."
"The money's fine. The other part's better."
"Mm." She shifts a little under your hands. "You're really good at this. Like, I keep waiting for it to stop feeling incredible and it just doesn't."
You move down to the broad muscles around her shoulder blades, leaning your weight in. "You're loosening up. You were tense everywhere when I started. This is already better."
"Don't let it go to your head." Then, a low sound slips out of her, half a moan, as you press into a particularly stubborn knot. "Oh. Okay. Right there, that's the spot, do not leave that spot."
"That one's been there a while," you say, easing into it with your thumb until you feel it finally release.
"Everything's been there a while. I'm twenty-three and I have the back of a forty-year-old." She turns her cheek the other way, getting comfortable. "What's the weirdest place somebody's made you do a massage? Like, on location."
"Once on a yacht in choppy water. The table kept sliding. I spent half of it just trying not to fall on the client."
That gets a real laugh out of her, her shoulders shaking under your palms. "Okay, that's amazing. Did you fall on them?"
"Nearly. Caught myself on the edge of the table at the last second."
"Tragic. I would've paid extra to see that." She wiggles a little, settling deeper into the cushion. "Okay your hands are actually magic, I need that on the record. Like, witnesses, the whole thing."
"Noted," you say, working your way down toward the small of her back, keeping your pressure even, your touch entirely professional. You can feel the tension draining out of her in real time, the way her breathing's gone slow and heavy. "How's the pressure? Too much anywhere?"
"No, it's perfect, you're perfect, marry me." A beat. "Kidding. Sort of. My assistant would say something but she's not here."
You let that one pass with a small huff of amusement and keep working, kneading along the muscles framing her spine. The room is warm and quiet apart from the soft sound of her breathing and the occasional hum she lets out when you hit something good. She's stopped filling every silence now, content to just lie there and let you work.
"Hey," she says after a while, lazy and half-melted into the table. "Do you do feet too? Because mine are honestly the worst part. Heels for three weeks straight. I can't feel my toes in a normal way anymore."
"I do," you say. "I'll do the whole job. Don't worry, I won't leave you half-finished."
"Good. I want my money's worth." She sighs, blissful. "God, I should've done this years ago."
You finish out her lower back, smoothing your palms in long strokes to ease off the deep work, then step back and reach for more oil.
"Alright," you say. "I'm going to have you turn over for me. On your back."
She makes a small noise of protest at having to move at all, but she does it, rolling over slow and lazy, one arm coming up to push the damp hair off her face. The towel shifts with her, and she tugs it back into place across her chest, though not quite as carefully as before. She blinks up at the ceiling, then at you, that little smile creeping back onto her mouth.
"Feet now?" she asks.
"Feet now," you confirm, and you move down to the end of the table.
You lift her right foot first, cradling the heel in your palm, and you go straight for the arch with your thumbs. She practically whimpers.
"Oh my god," she breathes, her toes curling. "That's the spot. That's exactly the spot. My feet have been trying to file for divorce from the rest of me."
"Three weeks of heels will do that," you say, pressing slow lines from her heel up toward the ball of her foot. "You've got everything bunched up in here. No wonder you couldn't feel your toes."
"They're alive again. You resurrected them." She lets her head fall back against the table, watching you through half-lidded eyes. "I bet you've worked for a ton of famous people, right? Like, I can't be the most ridiculous house you've shown up to."
"Some," you say, keeping your attention on the muscle, working the tension out of her instep. "I don't really talk about it. Discretion's kind of the whole job."
"Mm, smart. Loyal. I like that." She wiggles her toes as you press into them one by one. "Okay, can I ask you something? And you have to be honest. Like, actually honest, no professional dodge."
"Go ahead," you say, switching to her other foot and starting the same slow work on the heel.
She takes a second, and there's a little curl at the corner of her mouth before she even says it. "Have you ever gotten hard giving someone a massage?"
You don't stop your hands, but you do glance up at her. "Oh. So that's where we're going."
"I'm just curious." She's all innocence, which fools nobody. "Professional question. For research."
"No," you tell her, even and easy, going back to her arch. "It's rare. You learn to keep your head in the work."
"Rare, huh? So you're telling me, if I touched your cock right now, it'd be soft? Nothing there?"
You open your mouth to ask her why on earth she would do som- and that's when her foot slips out of your grip. It slides down, slow and unhurried, and presses flat against the front of your pants, right over you, rubbing once with the ball of her foot.
"Liar," she says, delighted, her eyes lighting up. "You're hard. I can feel it."
"That's the fabric," you say, even as you catch her ankle. "These pants bunch up, it's not what you think."
She presses again, firmer this time, her toes curling against the shape of you through the fabric. "Nope. Felt it that time. Clear as day. You're not hiding anything from me, you absolutely cannot blame the pants for that."
You exhale and ease her foot back down to the table. "Okay. That one's on you. You kept rubbing my cock with your foot. What exactly did you think was going to happen?"
"Hey, I think it's kind of flattering, honestly." She props herself up on her elbows, the towel sliding dangerously low. "If it makes you feel any better, you touching me like that has me pretty worked up too. So we're even."
"I know your type," you say, letting your hands rest on her shins. "The kind of client who books a massage with a whole other agenda already in mind."
"That's not fair," she protests, though she's grinning the entire time. "I genuinely did not plan this. My back was actually killing me. But, you know. We're both here. We're both clearly a little worked up." She tilts her head, that bratty little spark fully lit now. "So what if I asked for a special massage? Hypothetically."
You hold her gaze. "I'd charge more for that."
"Money's not a problem. You can put whatever number you want on the invoice."
"Alright," you say, and you let yourself relax into it. "It's fine. I know a bit of erotic massage. It's not really my thing, but I'm not going to pretend I don't know what I'm doing." You reach for a different bottle in your case, the warming oil, and uncap it. "I'll need you to open the towel for me."
She doesn't hesitate. She lets it fall open and away, and there she is, topless, just a pair of small panties left, her tanned skin catching the soft light. Her breasts are perfect and small, her stomach toned, and she stretches a little under your gaze like she wants to make sure you get the full picture.
"You like what you see?" she asks, that smile turned up to its full wattage.
"Yes," you say plainly, because there's no point lying about that either. "Obviously."
That answer pleases her. She settles back down, arms relaxing at her sides, and watches you pour the warm oil into your palms. You rub them together to spread it, to get the heat into it, and then you start where you always start, but with intent this time. The professional foundation is still there in your hands, the steady pressure, the patience, but now you let it wander into places the standard package never touches.
You begin at her collarbones, smoothing the oil across them with both thumbs, working outward toward her shoulders and back in. She lets out a soft sound and her eyes flutter. You take your time there, easing the slick warmth into her skin, before you let your palms drift lower, onto the soft swell of her breasts.
"Oh," she says quietly, her chest rising into your hands. "Okay. That's a different kind of massage."
"You asked for the full job," you remind her, cupping her, kneading slowly, letting your thumbs pass over her nipples just enough to feel them stiffen under your touch. You don't rush it. You circle them, glide around the curve of her, and come back to brush across the peaks again, and her breath catches each time.
"You're doing that on purpose," she says, half accusation, half plea.
"I'm being thorough." You roll one nipple gently between your fingers and watch her stomach pull tight. "Tension lives everywhere. You'd be surprised."
"That is such a line." She laughs, but it breaks off into a groan when you press your palms flat and drag them down off her breasts, smoothing the oil down across her ribs. "God. Okay. Keep being thorough. Don't let me stop you."
Your hands travel down to her stomach, spreading the warmth across her abs, and she's clearly enjoying it now, her hips shifting just slightly, restless. You knead the soft muscle there, work your thumbs in slow lines down toward her navel, then fan out across her hips. Every pass of your hands is unhurried and certain, the same patient rhythm you'd use anywhere on the body, except now the route is taking you exactly where she's been steering you this whole time.
"You're really good at this," she murmurs, watching your hands move over her. "Like, genuinely. I don't know why you say it's not your thing."
"Because it usually isn't." You press into the soft hollow beside her hipbone and her breath goes ragged. "But I'll admit, you're making it hard to remember that."
"Hard. Cute." She bites her lip, looking up at you. "I can feel how warm everything is. Whatever that oil is, it's doing something."
"It's supposed to," you say. "Heats the skin. Opens everything up." You spread it down across her lower belly, just above the waistband of her panties, and her hips lift a fraction toward your hands without her seeming to decide to do it.
You move down, away from where she clearly wants you, to her thighs, and you hear the small frustrated sound she makes when you skip past the obvious. You take one thigh in both hands and start working the oil into it from the knee up, slow and firm, your thumbs pressing into the inside where the muscle is soft and sensitive. Her legs part for you, easy and willing, giving you room.
"You're a tease," she says, her head rolling to the side as she watches you. "You're going the wrong way on purpose."
"I'm being methodical." You drag your hands up the inside of her thigh, getting closer, the heel of your palm sliding along that tender stretch of skin until you're so near to where she's aching that you can feel the heat of her against your fingers. "You don't rush the good part. You earn it."
"Oh my god," she groans, her hips chasing your hands. "You're going to kill me. You know that, right? You're actually going to kill me."
You smooth your thumbs up the last inch of her inner thigh, oil-slick and warm, your fingertips just barely grazing the edge of the fabric still between her legs, and you stop right there.
You stay right where you are, your thumbs parked at the soft crease of her inner thigh, oil-slick and warm against her skin, and you let the moment stretch out longer than is fair. You smooth your palms back down toward her knees and then up again, tracing the same patient lines, skirting the heat of her every single time, watching the way her hips chase after your hands and never quite catch them. Her stomach is rising and falling faster now, the muscles pulling tight each time you get close, and there's a flush spreading across her chest that has nothing to do with the warming oil and everything to do with the fact that you've been keeping her on the edge of this for what has to feel like an eternity.
"Okay," she finally says, propping herself up on her elbows again so she can glare at you, though there's no real heat in it, just desperation barely held together. "I need you to stop pretending you don't know exactly what you're doing. You've been an inch away for like five minutes. You're going to touch my pussy. Right now. I'm not asking anymore."
"You sure about that?" you ask, and you let one thumb drag right up to the edge of where she wants you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off her. "Because the second I touch your pussy, this officially stops being a massage. There's no walking that back."
She lets out a breathless little laugh, her head dropping back for a second before she lifts it again to look at you. "Are you serious right now? This stopped being a massage a long, long time ago. I think it stopped being a massage the second you put your hands on my tits and looked at me like that. So let's not pretend we're still being professional here."
"Okay… Yeah, fair enough," you say, and you can't quite keep the amusement out of it.
You hook your fingers into the waistband of her panties and she lifts her hips for you without being asked, eager, helping you peel the small scrap of fabric down her thighs and off her ankles. The crotch of them is soaked through, a dark wet patch against the light cotton, and you make sure she sees you notice it before you set them aside. She bites her lip, watching you, and she's got that bratty little spark in her eyes even now, even spread out and bare and dripping on a massage table in a rented villa.
"That's a lot of mess for someone who claims she didn't plan this," you say.
"Shut up," she fires back, but she's grinning.
You don't go for her right away. You start at the soft crease where her thigh meets her body, working the warm oil into the skin there, your thumbs pressing slow circles into the tender spots just beside her lips without yet touching them. She makes a high, frustrated sound and her thighs fall open wider, an invitation that couldn't be clearer. You massage the whole area around her pussy, the smooth skin above it, the sensitive insides of her thighs, everything but the place that's aching for you, and you watch her come apart by degrees.
"You feel so good," she breathes, her hips rolling up into nothing. "Oh my god. I've never, I swear I have never been this turned on in my entire life. This is insane. You're being so mean and it's working."
"Now," you say, finally letting your fingertips slide to her center, "it really starts."
You part her with one finger, slow and careful, opening her up and finding her slick and hot and ready. She gasps at the first real contact, her whole body going taut, and you take your time getting to know her, dragging your fingertip up through her folds and back down, learning the shape of her, the places that make her breath stutter. You find her entrance and you sink one finger into her, slow, in to the knuckle, and her back arches off the table.
"There you go," you murmur, working that single finger in and out of her in an unhurried rhythm, curling it just slightly on the way in. "Relax for me. We've got all the time in the world."
"That's the problem," she manages, her hands gripping the edges of the table. "You're going to take all that time, aren't you? You're not going to rush a single second of this."
"Not a chance," you say, and you add a second finger.
She moans low at the stretch, her hips canting up to take more of you, and you start a deeper rhythm now, two fingers sliding into her with a slow drag that has her panting. Your free hand leaves her thigh and travels back up her oiled body, over the soft plane of her stomach, up to her breast, where you take one stiff nipple between your fingers and roll it in time with the work of your other hand. The double sensation makes her gasp and squirm, her body caught between the two points of contact, not knowing which way to push.
"Oh, that's not fair," she groans, her chest heaving up into your palm. "That's two hands. You're using two hands on me. Who taught you this? Who taught you to do this with your hands?"
You find that spot inside her, the soft swollen ridge along her front wall, and you start working it with the pads of your fingers, a slow firm stroke that has her hips jerking. "Lots of practice," you say.
"I bet." Her eyes are squeezed shut, her mouth open, and she's still trying to talk through it because of course she is. "I bet every single girl you've ever been with was completely ruined for everyone else. I bet they still think about your hands. This is- oh god- this is out of this world, what you do with your hands should honestly be illegal."
"Keep talking," you tell her, picking up the pace just slightly, "and I'm going to make you forget your own name."
You feel her clench around your fingers at that, and you smile. You keep going, that steady rhythm inside her while your thumb finds her clit and starts circling it, light at first, then with more pressure as you read what makes her thighs shake. You strum her with a precision you've earned over years, hitting that swollen front wall on every stroke in and brushing her clit on every pull out, your other hand still kneading her breast, rolling her nipple, and she's losing the thread of her own sentences now, the smart remarks dissolving into broken moans.
"I'm going to make you come like this," you say, watching her face. "With my hand. Just like this."
"I don't doubt it," she gasps out, one hand flying up to grab your forearm, not to stop you, just to hold on. "God, I don't doubt it for a second. Go ahead. Do the honors. I want to see if you're as good as you think you are."
That's all the permission you need. You set your mind to it now, fully, every bit of focus going into her body and the signals it's giving you. You curl your fingers to nail that spot on every stroke, faster now, your thumb pressing tight circles against her clit, and her bratty composure crumbles entirely. Her thighs are trembling against your sides, her hips rocking up to meet your hand, and the sounds coming out of her have gone high and helpless and completely genuine.
"Oh fuck, oh my god," she pants, her grip on your forearm tightening, her nails biting in. "Okay, that's, that's the spot, you found the spot, please do not stop, do not you dare stop now."
"I've got you," you say, your hand never breaking rhythm. "I'm not going anywhere."
You work her relentlessly, reading every twitch and clench, adjusting your angle when her breath catches sharper, keeping that perfect pressure on her clit while your fingers drive into her over and over. She's writhing now, her whole body a string pulled tight, her head thrown back against the table and her dark hair stuck to her flushed neck. The flush has spread all the way up to her cheeks and she can barely keep her eyes open.
"It's close," she chokes out, her thighs starting to clamp around your hand. "Oh god, it's so close, it's right there, I can feel it."
"I know," you tell her, calm and certain, and you press in harder, faster, that swollen spot under your fingertips and her clit under your thumb, both at once, refusing her any room to back off. "Let it happen. Don't fight it."
She breaks. Her back bows clean off the table and a strangled cry tears out of her, her cunt clenching down around your fingers in hard fluttering waves as the orgasm slams through her. Her thighs lock around your hand and her hips grind up against your palm, riding it out, and you keep your rhythm steady through all of it, drawing it out, working her through every last shudder until she's gasping and twitching and finally collapsing back down onto the table, boneless and shaking, her chest heaving.
You slow your hand gradually, easing her down, your fingers stilling inside her and then sliding out slick and warm. You smooth your palm over her hip, gentle now, while she catches her breath. Her eyes are glassy and half-lidded and there's a dazed little smile spreading across her flushed face.
"Holy shit," she breathes, one arm flung over her forehead. "Okay. Okay, that was… I don't even have a comment. You broke my brain. I had a whole thing I was going to say and it's just gone."
"Take your time," you say, wiping your hand on the towel beside her.
She lies there a moment longer, the rise and fall of her chest gradually slowing, and then she turns her head to look at you with those dark eyes, the bratty spark already crawling back into them even in her wrecked state. She crooks a finger at you.
"Come here," she says.
You lean over her, and she reaches up, fists her hand in the front of your shirt, and pulls you down into a kiss. It's slow and deep and unhurried, her lips parting against yours. She kisses you like she's making a point, and when she finally pulls back, she keeps her hand twisted in your collar so you can't go far.
"Okay," she says, looking up at you, her thumb dragging along your jaw. "So now I know exactly what your hands can do. That part's settled. No notes. Genuinely incredible." She bites her lip, and her eyes drop down your body and back up to your face. "But that just raises a whole new question, doesn't it? Because now I really, really need to know what your cock can do."
She pushes herself up slowly, swinging her legs off the side of the table, still a little unsteady on them as she stands, and she presses her bare body against your front, looking up at you through her lashes.
"Come on," she says, tugging you by the shirt toward the door. "Forget the table. We're going to my room.”
You let her lead you out of the treatment room and down the hall, her small hand fisted in your shirt, her bare feet quick and sure against the cool tile. Her bedroom is big and bright with a bed that's far too large for one person, white linens half-rumpled where she's clearly been sleeping diagonally across the middle of it. She lets go of you long enough to spin around and walk backward toward the bed, watching you with that look on her face, and you start working the buttons of your shirt, shrugging it off your shoulders and tossing it onto a chair.
You're still working at your belt when she drops to her knees in front of you, just like that, no hesitation, and takes over. She pops the button and pulls the zipper down and tugs your pants and underwear off your hips in one motion, letting them fall down to bunch around your thighs, and your cock springs free right in front of her face. She makes a low pleased sound at the sight of it, her dark eyes going wide and hungry. She wraps one small hand around the base and gives it a slow stroke, tilting her head as she studies it.
"Mm. Okay. Hello." She licks her lips and looks up at you through her lashes, that bratty grin curling across her mouth. "So... You're about to get a blowjob from Jenna Ortega. How does that feel? Be honest. Bucket list moment, right? You're going to remember this forever."
"Honestly?" you say, looking down at her with a calm you know is going to drive her crazy. "I'm pretty chill about it. Go ahead, though. Don't let me stop you."
Her jaw drops in mock outrage and she smacks your thigh with her free hand. "Oh, fuck off. Chill? You're chill?!" She narrows her eyes up at you, still slowly stroking you the whole time. "You're a fan of mine, don't even lie to me. You knew exactly who I was when I opened that door."
"I know who you are," you tell her with a shrug. "Doesn't mean I'm a fan. You were great in X, even though slashers aren't really my thing. But I don't follow your career or anything."
She stares at you for a moment, clearly caught off guard, before breaking into a bright laugh and shaking her head.
"Wow. Okay. The disrespect. You're unbelievable." She leans in close, her breath warm against the head of your cock, and her eyes flick back up to yours. "Fine. You know what? You will be a fan after this. Guaranteed. By the time I'm done you're going to be streaming my entire filmography."
And then she gets to work. She drags her tongue flat up the underside of you from base to tip, slow and warm, and then wraps her lips around the head and sinks down, taking you into the wet heat of her mouth. She knows exactly what she's doing, that much is immediately obvious. She works you with a hand and her mouth together, twisting her wrist on the upstroke, hollowing her cheeks on the way down, her tongue pressing along the underside on every pass. She takes you deeper each time, her nose nearly brushing your stomach, and the sounds she's making are filthy and wet and completely shameless, little hums of enjoyment vibrating through your cock.
At one point she pulls off you with a slick pop, a string of spit connecting her bottom lip to the head of your cock, and she looks up at you while she catches her breath, still stroking you with her slick hand.
"By the way," she says, grinning up at you, "I'm just messing with you. With the whole celebrity thing. I'm not that kind of girl, I swear. It's totally fine that you're not a fan. I actually kind of love it. It's refreshing." She gives the head a little kiss. "Most guys would've passed out by now."
"I know you're messing with me," you say, your hand coming up to brush her damp hair back off her face so you can see her better. "Now keep going. You were doing really well. Maybe I'll actually become a fan of yours after this."
That gets a smirk out of her, slow and satisfied, and she takes that as the challenge you meant it to be. She goes back down on you with renewed purpose, both hands now, working you with her mouth and her fists in tandem, her tongue swirling around the head every time she comes up before plunging back down. She gets you sloppy and wet, spit running down over her fingers and onto the floor, her saliva coating every inch of you until you're slick and gleaming and aching. She bobs on you with a steady rhythm, her cheeks hollowed, her eyes watering just slightly, completely committed to the task, and the obscene wet sounds of it fill the room. She keeps it up until you're soaked and twitching against her tongue, until she's clearly proven whatever point she set out to prove.
She pulls off you again, breathing hard, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and rocks back on her heels with a satisfied look. "Okay. I'm ready. You're definitely ready." She rises to her feet, a little wobbly, and climbs up onto the bed.
You finally kick off the pants and underwear still bunched around your thighs, stepping out of them and leaving them on the floor, and when you straighten up she's already positioning herself in the middle of that big white bed, getting up onto her hands and knees and presenting herself to you. Her petite body looks even smaller out there on the wide expanse of the mattress, her tanned skin a warm contrast against the pale sheets, and she arches her back and looks at you over her shoulder, her perky ass tipped up in the air for you.
"Damn," you say, climbing up onto the bed behind her and putting both hands on her, palming the full round cheeks of her. "Your ass is actually pretty big for someone this small. Where are you hiding all this?"
"Years of squats and good genetics," she says, glancing back at you with a smug little grin, and she gives her hips a slow wiggle, shaking her ass at you, taunting. "You like it? Come on. Stop staring at it and do something about it."
You squeeze a handful of her, watching the way the flesh gives under your fingers, and then you take yourself in hand and line up against her. She's still soaking wet from earlier, slick and ready, and you drag the head of your cock through her folds a couple of times, coating yourself, teasing her entrance until she pushes her hips back at you impatiently. Then you start to press in, slow and steady, feeding yourself into her tight heat inch by inch, and she gasps and drops her head between her shoulders as her body stretches to take you.
"Oh my god," she breathes, her fingers twisting into the sheets. "Okay, you're- oh, that's a lot. Go slow, go slow, fuck. There. Like that."
"You okay?" you ask, holding still once you're seated all the way inside her, your hips flush against the soft cushion of her ass.
"I'm great. I'm so great. Don't you dare stop." She pushes back against you, taking that last bit, a long shaky breath leaving her. "Just give me a second. You're really packing, you know that? Like, criminally."
You give her the second, both of your hands gripping her hips, and then you start to move. You pull back slow and slide back into her just as slow, an easy unhurried rhythm to let her get used to the size of you, savoring the way her tight little cunt grips you on every stroke. She moans low and drops onto her forearms, changing the angle, her ass tipped even higher, and you take advantage of it, your pace picking up by degrees. Each thrust drives a little gasp out of her, and you watch your cock disappear into her over and over, slick and shining, her ass jiggling against your hips every time you bottom out.
"There you go," she pants, rocking back to meet you now, her hips snapping to match your rhythm. "Oh, fuck, that's so good. You feel so good. I knew it, I fucking knew your cock would be as good as your hands."
"You talk a lot for someone getting fucked from behind," you say, and you punctuate it with a harder thrust that makes her whole body jolt forward.
"Get used to it," she shoots back over her shoulder, breathless and grinning even now. "I'm a multitasker. I can run my mouth and take your cock at the- oh- oh god- okay, do that again, do exactly that again."
You do it again, snapping your hips into her with more force, and her smart remark dissolves into a long moan. You build the pace steadily now, your hands holding her in place by the hips while you drive into her, the smack of your body against her ass filling the room along with her gasps. You reach forward and grab a fistful of her dark hair, not pulling hard, just gathering it up and using it for leverage, and the sound she makes at that is something needy and wrecked. You fuck her like that, her back arched, her hair wrapped around your fist, her tight cunt swallowing every thrust, and you can feel her starting to clench around you, her thighs beginning to tremble.
"You getting close?" you ask, never breaking your rhythm, slamming into her with steady purpose.
"Yeah, yeah, oh god, I'm close, I'm so close, please don't stop, I swear if you stop I'll kill you." Her words are coming apart now, breaking up between thrusts, all the bratty composure gone. "Right there, that spot, you're hitting it, oh fuck, keep hitting it just like that."
You keep hitting it, exactly like that, driving into the same spot over and over while she falls apart underneath you. Her moans climb higher and her whole body goes rigid, her cunt squeezing down around your cock so tight you have to grit your teeth, and then she shatters. She cries out into the mattress, her back bowing, her pussy fluttering and clenching around you in waves as she comes hard on your cock, her arms giving out so her face presses into the sheets while her ass stays up in the air, riding it out against you. You fuck her through every pulse of it, slowing only when she starts to twitch and whimper from the overstimulation.
She collapses fully then, sliding off your cock as she goes flat onto her stomach against the bed, and a breathless laugh bubbles out of her, muffled by the sheets. She rolls onto her side to look up at you, her hair a mess across her flushed face, that dazed grin spreading wide.
"Okay," she gasps, still catching her breath, one hand pressed to her own chest. "That was really, really good. Holy shit. Role reversal: I'm the fan now. Officially. Card-carrying."
"It's not over yet," you tell her.
Before she can ask what you mean, you reach down and scoop her up off the bed entirely, one arm under her thighs and one around her back, hauling her petite body up into the air against your chest. She lets out a sharp surprised gasp, her arms flying around your neck and her legs scrambling to wrap around your waist, clinging to you as her feet leave the mattress and the whole world tilts.
You pull her closer, one arm locked under the swell of her ass, the other pressed flat against the small of her back, and you kiss her. She kisses you back immediately, no hesitation, her arms tightening around your neck as her mouth opens against yours. It starts hungry and gets hungrier. Her tongue slides against yours and you suck on it, tasting her, and she tilts her head and licks into your mouth and it goes from a kiss to something messier, something wetter, spit slicking between your lips as you devour each other. She breaks away just long enough to breathe and comes right back, biting at your bottom lip and tugging before sealing her mouth to yours again. Her fingers dig into the back of your neck and her legs squeeze around your waist and you can feel the heat of her slick cunt grinding against your stomach, leaving a wet streak across your skin as she rolls her hips without even seeming to realize she's doing it.
You adjust your grip on her, hitching her higher against your body, and her weight shifts in your arms. She's so light it's almost nothing. You reach between your bodies, angle yourself, and press the head of your cock against her entrance. She pulls back from the kiss with a gasp, her forehead resting against yours, and you start lowering her body down onto you. Slow. Gravity does most of the work. Her cunt stretches around you again and she whimpers, her mouth hanging open an inch from yours, her breath hot and shaky against your lips.
"Oh fuck," she whispers, her nails biting into your shoulders as you fill her. "Oh, that's deep. That's so deep like this. I can feel every inch of you."
You bottom out with her fully seated in your arms, her weight pinning her down onto the whole length of you, and for a second neither of you moves. You just stand there, holding her up, buried to the hilt inside the tight clench of her, and she looks at you with those glazed dark eyes and her swollen wet mouth, and she says exactly what you need to hear.
"Use me like this," she breathes, her fingers threading into the hair at the back of your head. "Just lift me up and drop me on your cock. Fuck me like I'm your little fleshlight. I want you to wreck me."
You pull her up and bring her back down. Hard. Her entire body jolts in your arms and the sound that tears out of her is raw and broken and loud in the quiet room. You do it again, and again, finding a brutal rhythm with nothing but the strength of your arms, lifting her off your cock until just the tip stays inside and then slamming her back down so her ass smacks against your thighs. She bounces on you, helpless in your grip, her breasts pressing against your chest and her legs locked tight around your waist and her head thrown back, completely given over to it.
"God, you're strong," she gasps, her fingers pulling at your hair. "You're just throwing me around- fuck! Look at you, I'm nothing to you, you're picking me up and fucking me like I weigh nothing."
"You barely do," you tell her, your arms burning in the best way, and you snap her down onto you hard enough to punch the breath out of her. Her cunt is so wet around you that every stroke makes an obscene sound, slick and loud, and her body clenches down on you each time she bottoms out.
She pulls your face to hers and kisses you again mid-thrust, sloppy and uncoordinated, more tongue and teeth and shared breath than anything that could be called a proper kiss. Your mouths slide together wet and messy while you keep fucking up into her, and she moans directly against your tongue, the vibration of it traveling down your throat. She breaks the kiss to gasp and you chase her lips and catch them again, biting down on her bottom lip and then licking into her open mouth, tasting the sounds she's making. Spit connects your mouths when you pull apart and she licks it off her own lips and grins at you like a feral little thing.
"You're so filthy," she pants, rocking her hips to meet your thrusts even from this angle. "I can't believe you walked in here all professional and polite and this whole time you had this in you. This is what you were hiding."
"You're the one who kept pushing," you remind her, driving into her deep and holding there for a second, grinding against her, and she whines and squirms in your arms.
"Best decision I ever made." She tightens her legs around you and rolls her body, taking you at a new angle that makes her whole face screw up in pleasure. "Fuck- right there, I can feel you so deep, you're in my stomach, I swear I can feel you everywhere."
You fuck her like that, standing in the middle of her bedroom, your arms wrapped around her small body and your cock buried inside her, her weight bouncing on you with every thrust. The pace stays relentless. You can feel the sweat building where your skin meets hers, can feel her thighs trembling where they grip your sides, and her cunt is getting tighter around you with every passing minute, that telltale flutter starting to build. She's babbling now, her face buried in your neck, her teeth grazing your shoulder between broken fragments of sentences.
"You're going to make me come again," she mumbles against your skin, her breath hot and fast. "You already made me come twice and you're going to do it again, I can't believe you, I can't believe my body right now, you ruined me, you completely ruined me."
"Come on my cock again," you tell her, bouncing her faster, harder, your hands gripping the meat of her ass and spreading her so you can thrust even deeper. "I want to feel it. Give me another one."
"Oh god- oh fuck- it's building," she gasps, pulling back to look at you, and her eyes are glassy and wet and completely undone. "Keep going, please, don't change anything, you're hitting the spot, you're right there, I'm gonna- oh fuck I'm gonna cum so hard."
You slam her down onto your cock and hold her there, grinding up into her, and it crashes through her hard. Her whole body seizes, every muscle locking up at once, her cunt clamping down around you in rhythmic pulses so tight it's almost painful, and she buries her face in your shoulder and cries out against your skin, shaking and clutching and spasming around you. You hold her through it, still buried inside her, rocking gently to wring out every last tremor until she goes limp and heavy in your arms, panting and twitching.
You carry her the few steps to the bed and set her down on the mattress, sliding out of her as you lower her onto the rumpled sheets. She sprawls back, boneless, her chest heaving, her skin flushed pink and gleaming with sweat, and she stares up at the ceiling looking thoroughly destroyed.
"Come here," she says after a moment, breathless and hoarse, reaching for you.
You lean down toward her and she grabs you, both hands on your chest, and with surprising strength she pushes and maneuvers you until you're lying on your back beside her, and then she's crawling over you, straddling your hips. Her thighs settle on either side of you and she plants both hands on your chest, looking down at you with her tangled hair falling around her face and that bratty spark flickering back to life behind the fucked-out haze in her eyes.
"You've been showing off," she says, pressing her palms flat against your pecs, her nails dragging lightly. "Making me come over and over again, with your hands, with your cock, while carrying me around the room. Very impressive. You've made your point. I get it." She sits up straighter, rolling her shoulders back. "But you haven't come yet. Not once. So now it's my turn. I'm going to show you that I can do the same thing you've been doing to me. I'm going to ride you until you lose your mind."
She reaches behind herself, her small hand wrapping around your cock, still slick and hard and aching from being inside her. She lifts her hips and positions you right at her entrance, the swollen head pressing against her folds, and she looks down at you with that knowing little smile curling the corner of her mouth.
"Wow," you say, looking up at her perched on top of you with your cock in her hand. "Jenna Ortega. Hollywood actress and professional rider. Is there anything you can't do?"
"Shut up," she says, flicking your chest with her free hand. "Stop being cute and just lie there and enjoy yourself. You've done enough work tonight. Let me handle this."
She lowers herself onto you, one slow, excruciating inch at a time. Her eyes flutter and her lips part and her thighs tense on either side of your hips as she sinks down, taking the full length of you into her for the fourth time tonight, and by now her body knows yours well enough that she slides all the way to the base without stopping. She sits there for a moment, fully seated, her palms flat on your chest, adjusting to the stretch with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Then she starts to move.
Slow, at first. Long, rolling motions of her hips, lifting up until you're almost out and gliding back down, grinding on you when she reaches the bottom. She finds a rhythm quickly, her body undulating on top of you with a fluid grace that tells you she wasn't bluffing when she said it was her turn to show off. Her hands slide up your chest and she arches her back, changing the angle, and the new position has her riding you with her whole body, stomach rolling, hips circling, her perky tits swaying with each motion. She looks down at you and catches you staring, and that smug little grin spreads across her face.
"You're watching me like you can't believe what you're seeing," she says, rolling her hips in a slow figure eight that sends a jolt straight through your spine.
"I'm just admitting that you actually know what you're doing up there," you tell her, your hands resting on her thighs, feeling the muscles flex and release under her tanned skin. "You said you were going to show me something and you're delivering."
"Damn right I am." She picks up the pace, bouncing on you now with more purpose, her ass slapping softly against your thighs on every downstroke, and she throws her head back and lets her hair tumble down her spine. The view from below is obscene. This tiny girl, a hundred pounds of toned Latina body, riding your cock with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how good she looks doing it. Her stomach pulls tight with every roll and her freckled face is flushed and gorgeous and completely lost in the pleasure of it.
"Look at you," you murmur, your thumbs tracing circles on her hipbones. "You look incredible up there. You're putting on a whole show for me."
"You earned a show," she says breathlessly, planting her hands on your chest again and leaning into her rhythm, riding you harder. "After what you did to me tonight? Three orgasms? You earned front row seats." She clenches around you on a downstroke, tight and intentional, and grins when your jaw tightens. "Oh, you liked that. I felt you twitch. I can do that whenever I want, by the way. Just squeeze you whenever I feel like it."
"You're dangerous," you tell her.
"You have no idea." She does it again, bearing down on you and squeezing, and you grip her thighs harder. She laughs, breathless and pleased with herself, and then she changes her approach entirely, leaning forward until her chest presses against yours and her face hovers above your face, close enough that her damp hair brushes your forehead. She rolls her hips in tight, grinding circles, keeping you buried deep, and she looks into your eyes and kisses you.
It's slower than the kisses before. Her lips part against yours and her tongue slides into your mouth lazy and thorough, tasting you while she rocks on your cock, and the combination of her mouth and the tight wet grip of her pussy has you gripping the sheets on either side of your body. She kisses you deep and messy, pulling back to lick across your bottom lip and then diving back in, swallowing the groan you didn't mean to let out. She hums against your mouth, satisfied, and keeps riding, never breaking rhythm, rolling her body against yours while her tongue tangles with yours.
You can't take it anymore. Your hands come up and lock around her waist, fingers digging into her soft skin, and you plant your feet flat on the mattress and start thrusting up into her from below. She breaks the kiss with a sharp gasp, her eyes going wide, and you don't give her time to recover. You fuck up into her hard and fast, using your grip on her waist to pull her down to meet every thrust, and the sound of your hips smacking against her ass fills the room. Her whole body bounces on top of you, her tits pressed against your chest, her mouth open and panting next to your ear.
"Oh my god," she chokes out, her nails digging into your shoulders. "Oh fuck, there you go, now you're the one showing off, you can't just let me have my moment, can you?"
"You had your moment," you grunt, snapping your hips up into her. "Now take it."
"I'm taking it, I'm taking it, god you feel so good," she gasps, burying her face in your neck. "You're so deep, I can feel you in my guts, you're splitting me open."
You pound up into her relentlessly, holding her in place while you fuck her from below, and her body tightens around you with every stroke, that familiar flutter of her walls gripping and releasing. You can feel the heat building at the base of your spine, that coiling tension, and you know you're getting close. After a night of watching this girl come apart for you three separate times without letting yourself go once, your body is finally demanding its turn.
"I'm close," you tell her. "Jenna, I'm gonna cum."
"My face," she says immediately, no hesitation, already pulling herself off your cock with a slick sound. "Give it to me on my face. I already got the massage, now it's time for skincare."
She slides off the bed and drops to her knees on the floor between your legs, looking up at you with her messy hair and her flushed cheeks and her swollen lips, and she grabs your cock with both hands. It's soaked, glistening with her wetness from base to tip, and she starts stroking you with quick, practiced twists of her wrist. Every few strokes she leans in and wraps her lips around the head, sucking firmly, her tongue laving over the sensitive underside before she pulls off and goes back to her hands.
"Come on," she murmurs, looking up at you while she works you, her small fists pumping your slick shaft. "Give me a facial. I want to feel it all over my face. Cover me." She dips down and sucks the head into her mouth again, cheeks hollowing, and the sight of her on her knees with her big dark eyes staring up at you while her lips stretch around your cock is what finally tips you over.
You come hard. Your hand grips the edge of the mattress and your hips jerk and the first thick rope hits her across the cheek and the bridge of her nose, painting over those faint freckles. She pulls back and aims you with her hand, milking you through it, and the second streak lands across her lips and chin. She keeps stroking, squeezing every last drop out of you, catching it on her skin until her pretty face is glazed and dripping, white streaks across her cheekbone, her nose, her mouth and her jaw.
She looks absolutely filthy. She looks up at you through the mess on her face with those big brown eyes and she's never looked better. She raises one hand and drags her finger through the cum on her cheek, collecting a thick glob of it on her fingertip, and she puts it in her mouth and sucks it clean, her tongue curling around her finger.
"Mm," she says, pulling her finger out with a little noise. "Salty. Not bad." She grins up at you, still on her knees, still covered. "That was really fun. I feel so much more relaxed now. You should put that on your business card. Full body tension relief, guaranteed."
You laugh, dropping back onto the mattress for a second before sitting up and reaching for your clothes on the floor. You pull your underwear on and step into your pants, and she watches you dress from her spot on the carpet, still looking thoroughly debauched.
"So," she says, finally rising to her feet and stretching, completely unconcerned about being naked and cum-covered. "How much do I owe you for the special treatment? What's the upcharge on that? Because it felt pretty premium."
You snort as you pull your shirt on, working the buttons. "You don't owe me anything extra. I was kidding about that. It's just whatever you paid when you booked. Seriously, don't worry about it."
"Really?" She raises her eyebrows. "That's very generous. You could've squeezed me for a fortune and I would've paid it."
"I'm sure you would've," you say, tucking your shirt in. "Consider the special treatment complimentary."
"Well, thank you then," she says. "That was an amazing experience. I mean it. My first massage ever, and I don't think anything will ever top it. You ruined massages for me. Every masseuse from now on is going to be a disappointment."
"Happy to help," you say, gathering your case from the treatment room. When you come back through, she's grabbed a handful of tissues from the nightstand and is wiping her face clean, casual as anything. She catches your eye and grins through the tissue.
She follows you through the house still completely naked, padding along beside you on bare feet, and only pauses when she spots the towel she'd left on the floor of the hallway earlier. She scoops it up and wraps it loosely around herself, though it's more of a formality than actual coverage at this point. She walks you all the way to the front door, leaning against the frame just the way she had when she first let you in, except now her hair is a disaster and her lips are swollen and there's still a faint sticky shine on her cheekbone she missed with the tissue.
"It was a real pleasure meeting you, Jenna," you say, your case in one hand, turning back to look at her in the doorway.
She tilts her head, that slow bratty smile spreading across her face one last time. "Trust me," she says, crossing her arms over the towel and leaning into the doorframe. "The pleasure was all mine.”
—
A week passes. Seven days of normal life, normal clients, normal work. You do a couple's session at a resort downtown, a deep tissue for some tech CEO, and a sports recovery for a college swimmer with a pulled trapezius. Routine stuff. You go home, you eat, you sleep, you do it again. And you don't think about Jenna Ortega.
Okay, that's not true. You think about her a little. You think about her when you're setting up in someone else's living room and you catch yourself glancing at the door like you're expecting a girl in an oversized bathrobe to answer it. You think about her when you're working a client's feet and your brain flashes to the feeling of her toes pressing against the front of your pants. You think about her in the shower, briefly, and then you shut that down because you're not a teenager and you have a schedule to keep.
Now, about what happened with Jenna… It's not the first time. You're not going to sit here and pretend it is, because that would make you either a liar or delusional. In the years you've been doing this work, there have been three other occasions where a client turned the appointment into something else entirely. Three women who were attractive enough and forward enough and the circumstances were aligned enough that you let it happen. An interior designer in her forties who tipped you in cash and a kiss on the mouth. A fitness influencer who pulled you into her pool house after a ninety minute session. A divorce lawyer who locked the door of her home office and told you she needed a different kind of stress relief. Each time, it happened once, and you never went back. Not because it was bad. Because it was complicated. You work through a spa. You have a reputation. You have repeat clients who trust you to be professional, and the second that trust erodes, your entire livelihood goes with it. So the rule is simple. It happens, you enjoy it, you move on, and you never repeat the process.
Jenna should be the same. She should already be filed away in the same mental drawer as the other three, a great story you'll never tell anyone, a memory you'll revisit occasionally and leave alone. That should be the end of it.
Your phone buzzes on a Tuesday evening while you're eating leftover pad thai on your couch. Instagram notification. A message request from an account you don't recognize at first, and then you look at the profile picture and the verified checkmark and the follower count that has more digits than your bank balance, and you set down your fork.
Been thinking about you
How did you even find my Instagram?
Went to the spa's profile. They have this photo of all the employees at some company event and you're in the back row. Your profile was tagged. Easy. Took me like two minutes
So you stalked me
Absolutely I did. You should lock your doors and windows tonight. I know where you live now
You don't know where I live
Not yet. Give me another two minutes
Okay I'm not going to be weird about this. I'm just going to say it. I really liked you. And not just because of the sex, which, for the record, was incredible, genuinely top tier, I'm still thinking about it a week later which is embarrassing but whatever
You're a cool guy. You're funny. You went along with all my bullshit and you didn't get weird about it, you just matched my energy the whole time, and I really, really enjoyed that. Most people either get intimidated or they try too hard and it's exhausting. You just showed up and were normal and hot and good with your hands and I haven't stopped thinking about it
You read that twice. Then a third time. You're aware that this is the point where you should type something polite and final. Something about how it was great meeting her too and you wish her the best and maybe you'll see her around. That's what you did with the other three. Clean, simple, no loose ends.
But Jenna isn't the other three. And you know that already, have known it since she opened the door in that bathrobe with her hair dripping, because none of the other three made you laugh while you were inside them. None of the other three made you actually want to stay and talk after it was over. None of the other three texted you a week later being honest and funny and a little bit vulnerable underneath the bravado, and none of the other three made you sit on your couch staring at your phone like an idiot trying to figure out what you actually want.
You're cool too. I had a really good time
So...
So what?
So how about we meet up? Like, actual hanging out. Get drinks, talk, be normal people for a couple hours. And then maybe go back to my place and be not-normal people for a couple more hours.
No massage table required
You lean back into the couch and stare at the ceiling. In a normal situation, you'd say no. You know you'd say no, because you've said no before, and it was the right call every time. But Jenna is genuinely funny. She's sharp and self-aware and she doesn't take herself too seriously despite having every reason to, and she's beautiful in a way that hits different when you've seen her with no makeup and no performance and no pretense, just a girl on a massage table being honest about how tired she is. And the sex was, frankly, some of the best you've ever had, and you're not in the habit of lying to yourself about things like that.
Fuck it. Why not?
I'm in. Where and when?
Her response is instant. She sends you the name of a bar you've never heard of, some place in a part of the city you don't go to often, and it occurs to you that she probably picked it because it's low-key enough that nobody's going to bother her there. Smart. Then she sends a time, Thursday at nine, and a follow-up message.
I'll be there first. I'll grab us a spot.
Don't be late or I'll find another masseuse
There's no other masseuse like me and you know it
Cocky. I love it. See you Thursday
You put your phone down and pick your pad thai back up and eat the rest of it without tasting any of it, because your brain is already somewhere else entirely. You're thinking about what you're going to wear, which is not something you usually waste energy on, and that alone tells you that you're already in deeper than you planned to be.
—
Thursday comes faster than it should. After your last client, you shower, get dressed, and spend entirely too much time pretending you don't care what you're wearing. Then you head to the bar she sent you. It's small, dim, and pleasantly unpretentious. Good music, good atmosphere, the kind of place where people actually talk to each other. You walk in and scan the room. She's sitting in a booth near the back with a drink already in hand.
You spot her immediately. Jenna spots you, too, and she looks different tonight. Not worse, not better, just different. Her hair is down and dry and loose around her shoulders, and she's wearing a simple top and jeans and just enough makeup that you can tell she put thought into looking like she didn't put thought into it. The freckles are still there under her eyes. She lifts her glass to you from across the room and flashes that same bratty grin.
You walk over to the booth and slide in across from her.
"You're on time," she says, looking pleased. "I was ready to be stood up."
"Wouldn't miss it," you say, settling in. "You stalked me across the internet to set this up. Least I can do is show up.”
A waiter materializes beside the booth with the easy timing of someone who's good at his job, and you order a drink, something simple, while Jenna swirls the last of her amber whatever and asks for another. He nods and disappears back toward the bar, and you settle into the booth, taking in the place properly now.
"So do you come here a lot?" you ask, glancing around at the dim warm lighting and the small clusters of people who all seem to be minding their own business.
"Yeah, pretty often," she says, leaning back against the cushioned seat. "Usually with friends. It's one of the few places around here where I can just sit and not have my phone out in someone's hand pointed at my face the whole time. The staff knows me and they're cool about it. They don't make it a thing. It's a good spot."
"Then I'm flattered," you say. "You brought me to your secret good spot. That's basically a state secret."
She laughs, that bright unguarded sound you remember from the massage table. "Don't let it go to your head. I haven't decided yet if you've earned full clearance."
The waiter returns with both drinks and you settle into the rhythm of it, the easy back and forth, and it turns out to be effortless in a way that surprises you a little. She's funny, quick with comebacks, willing to make herself the punchline, and she listens when you talk, which is not something you expected from someone who spends her life being the center of attention. A few drinks later, she pauses, sets her glass down, and gives you a measured look, intrigued but not entirely convinced.
"Okay, so be honest with me," she says, tilting her head. "This has to happen all the time, right? Clients catching feelings for you, getting your number, taking you out. Your hands are basically a public health hazard. Your schedule must be absolutely stacked with women trying to get you alone."
You almost choke on your drink. "Okay, no. You're really misreading the situation here."
"Am I?" She arches an eyebrow, clearly enjoying herself. "Come on. I refuse to believe I'm special. You've got a whole roster, don't you? A little black book of housewives."
"I don't do this," you say, setting your glass down. "Like, ever. And I mean that. It's true that a few times something's happened with a client, I'm not going to lie to you about that. But three times. In years of doing this. Three."
She holds up four fingers and waggles them at you. "Four now."
"Four now," you concede, and she grins, delighted with herself. "But here's the thing. Out of those, I never once went back. Not a single repeat. It happens, it's nice, and then I keep it professional and move on, because the alternative is a disaster waiting to happen. So you're not just an isolated case. You're an isolated case among isolated cases. You broke a rule I've never broken."
That seems to do it. She studies you for a moment, absently turning her glass on the table as the teasing gives way to something more sincere. "Okay. So what made you break it, then? What's so different about this time that suddenly Mister Professional is sitting in a bar with a girl he gave a massage to a week ago?"
You consider lying, giving her something smooth. But she's been straight with you all night, so you give it to her straight back. "Honestly? I don't know. I just like you. That's the whole answer. And I kept thinking about that day all week, which doesn't usually happen, so when you messaged me it just felt like the right thing to do. So here I am. Breaking my own rules."
Something passes across her face, pleased and a little caught off guard, and she covers it by taking a sip of her drink. "Wow... Okay. That was almost dangerously sincere. I don't know how to handle you when you're not being a smartass."
"Get used to it. I have layers."
She laughs again, then goes quiet for a second, picking at the edge of her napkin. "I'm a little rusty at this, by the way. The whole dating, meeting people thing. I should probably just tell you that now so you don't expect me to be good at it." She shrugs, looking almost embarrassed. "Like, I've never really had much experience with it. I grew up on sets. I've been working since I was a little kid, always busy, always somewhere new, always with a chaperone or a tutor or a crew of forty people around me. So this kind of thing, just sitting in a bar with someone, going on an actual date, it's still kind of new territory for me."
"You're still really young," you tell her. "You've got plenty of time for all of it. More chances will come along, trust me."
"Sure," she says, and then she gives you a sideways look, that bratty spark flickering back. "But I'm living one of those chances right now, aren't I?"
You can't help but smile. "I guess you are."
"So?" She props her chin on her hand, watching you. "What's the verdict so far? How am I doing? Am I a disaster?"
"You're doing great. You're way better at this than someone who claims to be rusty."
"I'm enjoying it," she admits. "It's funny. I've shot a hundred scenes like this. First dates, bars, the whole flirty getting-to-know-you thing. I could do it in my sleep, hit every mark. But real life is so much more interesting. There's no script. I have no idea what you're going to say next and that's kind of terrifying and kind of great."
You keep talking, and the drinks keep coming, and the conversation wanders all over the place, from her ridiculous press tour stories to the worst client you've ever had to a long pointless debate about whether pineapple belongs on pizza that gets weirdly heated. At some point, well into your fourth or fifth round, she sets her glass down and looks at you with an expression that's gone thoughtful and a little softer around the edges from the alcohol.
"Can I tell you what actually got me?" she says. "About you. From the start."
"Go for it."
"It's that you know I'm famous and you just genuinely don't care." She says it plainly, like she's still a little amazed by it. "From the very first second. When you walked in the door, even. And I'll be honest, at the beginning it kind of bugged me. I kept thinking, okay, I know you're being all polite and professional and saying you don't make it weird, but deep down I know what you're really thinking, I know you're freaking out a little on the inside. I was waiting for the mask to slip."
"And?"
"And it never slipped. Because there was no mask. You're just like that." She shakes her head, smiling. "That's so rare. You have no idea how rare. Normally people make this huge production out of it. They either pretend they don't recognize me and it's so obvious they do, or they go the other way and get all weird and starstruck, or worst of all they act normal for like ten minutes and then ask for a photo. But you were just, consistently, the entire time, treating me like a person. And that's actually what made me brave enough to message you."
"How so?"
"Because I knew you weren't going to screw me over," she says. "I didn't have to worry about it. Like, do you know how scary it is for me to flirt with someone? To send a message? Because there's always this thing in the back of my head going, what if he screenshots this, what if this ends up on some gossip site tomorrow, Jenna Ortega caught DMing her massage therapist, what if the whole world sees me being a normal person who likes a guy. But with you I just knew. I knew you'd never do that."
"I'd never do that," you confirm. "And not just because I'm a nice guy, though I am. It's also pure self-preservation. The second I do something like that I'm screwed too. I lose my job, my reputation, everything. So you're safe with me on a purely selfish level if nothing else." You take a sip of your drink. "But also, like, I figured you've got people fawning all over you constantly. Falling all over themselves. The least I can do is be normal and treat you like I'd treat anybody."
"You'd be surprised how few people actually do that. It sounds like the easiest thing in the world, just be normal, and almost nobody manages it." She raises her glass toward you. "So. Thank you. For having basic common sense. Apparently that's a rare and precious gift."
"To basic common sense," you say, clinking your glass against hers.
Time does that thing where it stops existing. You're deep in conversation and then you blink and the bar is emptier than it was and your glass is empty again and you realize you're both pretty drunk, the good kind of drunk, loose and warm and laughing too easily at things that aren't that funny. Jenna's leaning across the table now, gesturing with her hands while she tells you some story about a costar that has her giggling so hard she keeps losing the thread of it, and you're laughing too, and at some point you both seem to silently agree that it's time to go.
Jenna is the one who pulls out her phone and fumbles through the Uber app, squinting at the screen as she books the ride with the sluggish concentration of someone several drinks past sober. By the time she's done, she's drained the last of her cocktail, and the two of you make your way outside into the cool night air, lingering near the curb while the car makes its way over.
A few minutes later, the Uber rolls up. You both climb into the back seat, and Jenna immediately sinks against the upholstery, looking ready to pass out. The ride has barely begun when she suddenly notices something on her phone. With a groan, she realizes she'd entered the wrong destination while drunk and hastily updates the trip, correcting the address before letting herself slump back into the seat beside you, eyes half-closed as the car heads off into the night.
The city slides by outside the windows, all glowing signs and empty intersections, and after a couple of minutes you feel her shift and then the weight of her head settling against your shoulder. Her hair smells like whatever she put in it and faintly like the bar. She gets comfortable, tucking herself into your side.
"Just so we're clear," she mumbles, "this isn't romantic or anything. I'm just tired. Don't read into it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," you say, and you feel her smile against your shoulder.
"Good. Because it's not. It's purely a logistics thing. Your shoulder is conveniently located."
"Very convenient. Premium shoulder real estate."
"Mhm." She goes quiet, and for a while the only sound is the hum of the road and the driver's radio turned down low, and you let her stay there, this tiny famous girl half asleep against you in the back of a stranger's car, and you think about how strange and good this all is and how thoroughly you've broken your own rule.
The Uber eventually pulls up the private drive you recognize, the bougainvillea spilling over the white wall lit up by the headlights, and Jenna stirs and sits up, blinking herself awake. You thank the driver and the two of you climb out, and she leads the way up to the door, fishing her keys out of her bag with the slightly exaggerated care of someone who's had a few. She gets the door open on the second try and steps inside, then turns around to face you in the entryway, leaning against the frame, that grin spreading slow across her face.
"Well," she says, spreading her arms a little. "Welcome back.”
You step through the doorway after her and the place is exactly as nice as you remembered, all high ceilings and soft lamplight, though there's something different about being here now, at night, with both of you swaying a little from the bar.
"It's good to be back," you say, and you mean it more than the words suggest.
She heads deeper into the house and you follow, and she's walking ahead of you but twisted around at the waist so she can keep talking to you, telling you something about how she rearranged half the furniture when she moved in because the staging was hideous, and she's so busy looking back at you that she doesn't see the low side table directly in her path. Her shin catches the edge of it and she pitches sideways with a startled yelp, and you lunge and get an arm around her before she goes all the way down, hauling her back up against your chest.
"Okay," you say, holding her steady. "You are a genuine hazard when you're drunk."
"I am not drunk," she protests, though she's still clutching your forearm and clearly grateful you caught her. "Okay, I'm a little drunk. But that's not the point. That table was not there before. I swear to god. Somebody moved it."
"Oh yeah? Who do you think moved it?"
She gets very serious, looking up at you with wide eyes. "I don't know. But I hear things at night. Voices. Footsteps." She drops her voice to a stage whisper. "I'm not alone in this house. There's something here. It rearranges the furniture to kill me slowly."
"That's deeply concerning," you say, still holding her against you, smiling down at the absurd earnest expression on her face. "You should probably move."
"Can't. The ghost would just follow me. We're bonded now."
You're about to say something else but she doesn't let you. She pushes up onto her toes and kisses you, and whatever you were going to say evaporates. It starts soft and goes from soft to hungry fast, her mouth opening against yours, her hands sliding up to fist in the front of your shirt. You kiss her back and she makes a small sound into your mouth and presses closer, the two of you start moving toward the bedroom without breaking apart, a clumsy drunken shuffle down the hallway, bumping into a wall, knocking a frame crooked, neither of you caring. She walks you backward through her bedroom door and your tongues are tangling, her fingers are pulling at your collar and it's all heat and wet and the taste of whatever you were both drinking.
She breaks away just long enough to kick off her shoes, hopping on one foot, and you toe off yours, and then she grabs you again and the two of you tumble down onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs, her laughing against your mouth as you land. You end up on top of her, settling between her thighs, and you kiss her again, sloppier now, more teeth, more spit, the kind of kiss that's lost any sense of finesse and doesn't want it back.
You break from her mouth and move down to her neck, dragging your lips along the warm skin there, and you can taste the faint salt of a light sweat on her, the night and the bar and her own heat. She tilts her head to give you more room and sighs, her fingers threading into your hair. You work your way along her throat, and at some point you lift your head and your eyes meet hers in the dim lamplight, and there's a beat where you just look at each other.
Then she leans up and licks your face. One long stripe from your jaw to your cheekbone, completely without warning.
"What the hell," you say, pulling back. "You're a freak."
"Excuse you," she says, grinning up at you, utterly delighted with herself. "That was the single most romantic thing I could have done. I poured my whole soul into that lick."
"Okay. You want romantic? I'll show you romantic." You reach for the hem of her top and she lifts her arms and lets you peel it off over her head, tossing it somewhere into the dark of the room. She's not wearing a bra, just like you suspected, and there she is, her small perfect breasts and her tanned skin glowing in the low light. You don't waste a second. You dip your head and kiss across her chest, pressing your mouth to the soft swell of her breast.
"Oh," she breathes, her back arching slightly. "Okay. Yeah. That's romantic. Worshipping my tits. Very gentlemanly of you. A true romantic hero."
You wrap your lips around one stiff nipple and suck, and her words dissolve into a sigh. You take your time with her, lavishing attention on one breast and then the other, kissing and licking and sucking, your tongue circling each peak before you draw it into your mouth. You cup the other in your hand while you work, rolling her nipple between your fingers, switching back and forth so neither one feels neglected. She squirms beneath you, her fingers tightening in your hair, her chest pushing up into your mouth, the drunken giddiness slowly giving way to something heavier and more breathless.
"You're really committed to this," she murmurs, watching you through half-lidded eyes. "I was joking but you're actually- oh, okay, keep doing that."
When you finally lift your head, both of you are flushed and glowing in the dim light, a faint sheen across her skin and yours, her breasts wet and shining where your mouth has been. You move down her body and hook your fingers into the waistband of her jeans, popping the button and dragging the zipper down, and she lifts her hips obligingly so you can peel them off her legs, taking her panties along with them in the same motion. You toss the whole bundle off the side of the bed, and now she's bare beneath you, completely.
"Okay," she says, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "My turn. Off with all of this." She reaches for you, tugging at your shirt, and you let her undress you, helping where you can. She gets your shirt off and runs her hands appreciatively down your chest, then works at your belt and pulls your pants down your legs until you're left in just your underwear. She sits back on her heels, looking you over with frank approval, and then a particular kind of mischief creeps into her expression.
"So," she says, drawing the word out. "I was thinking. I want to do something a little different tonight. For a change."
"Different," you repeat, raising an eyebrow. "What's more different than having sex with your masseur? I feel like we already cleared the bar for different."
"Funny." She crawls off the bed and pads over to the nightstand and pulls open the top drawer. She rummages around for a second and then turns back to you holding a bottle of lubricant, brandishing it like a prize. "Okay, hear me out. I'm thinking we switch roles tonight." She climbs back onto the bed and tosses the bottle onto the mattress beside you. "It's not one of your fancy expensive massage oils or whatever, but it'll do the job just fine." She gives you a little push toward the headboard. "So. Lie back. On your back. And those need to come off." She nods at your boxers.
You look at the lube, then at her, and you understand exactly what she's got in mind.
You hook your thumbs into the waistband and lift your hips off the mattress, peeling your boxers down your thighs and kicking them off the end of the bed. Your cock springs up, already hard, standing thick against your stomach, and Jenna's eyes drop to it with that unabashed directness she has, no shyness, no pretending she's not looking. She picks up the bottle of lube from where she tossed it on the sheets and uncaps it, squeezing a generous amount into her palm, and the slick clear liquid pools in the center of her small hand.
"Let me do this properly," she says, settling onto her knees beside you. "You're always the one with the oils and the fancy products. Let me have my moment."
She wraps her lubed hand around the base of your cock and you feel the cool slick of it immediately, her fingers tightening and then sliding upward in a slow stroke, coating you. She's thorough about it, spreading the lubricant from root to tip with both hands now, her small palms twisting in opposite directions, making sure every inch of you is gleaming and slippery. She pays particular attention to the head, circling her thumb across the sensitive underside, and her eyes flick up to your face to watch your reaction while she works. Her grip slides all the way back down to the base and back up again, one long gliding stroke, and she gives you a satisfied nod.
"There we go," she says, examining her handiwork. "All ready. Now comes the master touch."
She shifts on the bed, repositioning entirely, turning so she's sitting facing you with her legs extended toward your hips. She leans back on her hands for support and lifts both feet, placing them on either side of your slick cock, pressing the soft warm arches against your shaft. Your cock sits between her soles, trapped in the gentle pressure of them, and the lube makes the contact impossibly smooth.
"Oh," you say, looking down at the sight of her bare feet cradling your cock. "Okay. This is a new type of massage."
She grins, wiggling her toes against you. "What? Have you never massaged someone with your feet before? It's a whole technique. Very ancient."
"In case you haven't noticed," you say, gesturing at yourself, "I am not an orangutan. My feet don't do the same things my hands do. They're purely structural."
She throws her head back and laughs, her whole body shaking with it, which incidentally makes her feet shift against your cock in a very interesting way. She has to take a second to compose herself, pressing one hand to her chest while she catches her breath.
"Damn," she manages, still grinning so wide her eyes are nearly shut. "Okay, that was genuinely a good one. I'll give you that. Full marks." She takes a breath and then fixes you with a stern look that's completely undermined by the fact that she's still fighting off giggles. "But hey. This is supposed to be hot, alright? We're having a sexy moment here. So stop being so funny. You're ruining my whole vibe."
"My apologies," you say. "Please continue. Show me the ancient technique."
She narrows her eyes at you, then starts to move. She presses her feet together with your cock sandwiched between them and slides them upward, the arches of her feet dragging along your shaft from base to tip, the lubricant making the motion fluid and easy. When she reaches the top, she curls her toes slightly around the head and then slides back down, setting up a slow, rhythmic stroke that has you exhaling through your teeth.
Nobody has ever done this to you before. In all your experience, all the various encounters and the handful of clients who crossed the line, this particular act has never come up. But the feeling of it is unexpectedly good. Her feet are small and impossibly soft, the skin smooth and warm, and the lube turns every pass into something slick and effortless. She finds a rhythm, her feet pumping up and down your length in tandem, and she watches your face the entire time with a look of concentrated satisfaction, reading your reactions the same way you read hers on the massage table.
"Look at you," she says softly, her feet gliding up your cock and back down again. "The big professional masseur, lying on his back, getting a footjob from his client. How does it feel to be on the other side? To be the one getting worked on instead of doing the work?"
"Still getting used to it," you admit, your stomach tightening as she picks up the pace slightly, her arches squeezing around you. "But it feels great. You've actually got real talent here."
"Thank you," she says, almost prim about it, as if you'd complimented her on a performance. "I take my craft very seriously."
She adjusts her angle, tilting her feet so one sole presses flat against the underside of your shaft while the other rubs along the top, creating a different kind of friction. The change in sensation makes your hips shift on the mattress and she catches it, noting what works, and she keeps that configuration going, one foot stroking the sensitive underside while the other applies pressure from above. Her toes curl around the head every few strokes, gripping gently, and the combination of soft skin and warm lube and the sight of her sitting there between your legs, naked and focused and so small that her feet barely span your full length, is doing something to you that you didn't anticipate.
"You're really into this," she observes, her eyes traveling from your face down to where her feet are wrapped around you. "Your whole body just tensed up. I can feel your cock twitching against my feet."
"You know what you're doing," you say, and your breathing is getting heavier now, you can hear it yourself, the steadiness leaving it.
She pumps her feet faster, finding a quicker rhythm, her soles slipping up and down your lubed shaft with a smooth wet glide. She presses her feet together tighter, increasing the friction, and starts working the top half of your cock with short quick strokes, her toes teasing the ridge of the head on every pass. You can feel the heat building in your gut, that familiar tightening at the base of your spine, and your hands grip the sheets on either side of you.
"Yeah, there it is," she murmurs, watching you with that knowing look, her feet never stopping. "I can see it in your face. You're getting close, aren't you? My feet are getting you off. That's so filthy. I love it."
She's right. The pressure is building fast, faster than you expected, and her small soft feet pumping your slick cock are pulling you toward the edge with alarming efficiency. You feel it coiling tighter, your thighs going rigid, your abs clenching, and she can see all of it, she can read your body the same way you read hers.
And then she stops. Both feet lift off your cock entirely and she pulls her legs back, tucking them underneath her, leaving you throbbing and slick and aching in the open air. The sudden absence of contact is almost painful, your cock twitching against your stomach, and you let out a breath that's somewhere between frustration and disbelief.
"No," she says simply, shaking her head, that bratty grin blooming across her flushed face. "Not yet. We've barely started. You don't get to finish that fast."
"Oh," you say, dropping your head back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling. "Oh, I see where this is going."
"Do you?" She tilts her head innocently.
"This is because of the massage, isn't it." You lift your head to look at her. "The first time. When I made you wait. When I kept teasing you and wouldn't touch where you wanted me to touch. This is payback."
She presses her lips together, trying not to smile, and fails completely. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like watching you squirm. Could be either one. Could be both." She stretches her arms above her head, casual and unhurried, as if she didn't just edge you within an inch of your sanity. "In any case, tonight I'm going to have some fun with you. So just stay lying down like that. Get comfortable. You're going to be there for a while."
You exhale slowly and let your head fall back against the pillow again. "You're evil."
"I'm adorable and you love it." She repositions on the bed, sliding down between your legs, lying on her stomach with her face level with your hips. Her dark hair spills across your thigh as she settles in, and she props herself up on her elbows, one hand reaching out to wrap around the base of your still-slick cock. She tilts it toward her mouth, studying it up close with an expression of genuine appreciation, and she presses a soft, slow kiss to the tip. Her lips linger there, warm and full, and then she pulls back just enough to look up at you through her lashes.
"Now," she says, her breath warm against the wet head of your cock, "let's see how long you can last.”
She starts with her hand, just her hand, her fingers wrapped around you loosely at first and then tightening as she finds her grip, stroking you from base to tip with long, lazy pulls. The lube from before is still slick on your skin and her palm glides effortlessly, her thumb pressing into the underside on every upstroke, finding that sensitive ridge and dragging across it. She's in no rush. She watches her own hand working you, studying the way your cock responds to each variation of pressure, cataloguing what makes your stomach clench and what makes your breath stutter, and there's something almost clinical about the attention she's paying.
"You're so hard," she murmurs, squeezing gently and watching a bead of precum well up at the tip. "This is all for me. All of this." She swipes her thumb through the slick drop and spreads it around the head in a slow circle. "I barely touched you and you're already leaking. That's really flattering, you know."
Then she leans in and replaces her thumb with her tongue. She starts at the base, pressing the flat of her tongue against the underside of your shaft, and drags it all the way up in one long, wet, unhurried stroke. When she reaches the head she circles it once with the tip of her tongue and then goes back down and does it again, licking you root to tip, coating you in warm saliva, tracing the veins and the ridges. She licks up one side and down the other, her tongue traveling the full length of you over and over, and by the time she's done your cock is glistening and twitching and her lips are shiny and swollen.
"You taste good," she says, looking up at you from between your legs with those dark eyes. "Clean. A little salty. I could do this for a while."
She opens her mouth and takes you in. The head first, her lips stretching around you, and then she sinks lower, letting you slide across her tongue and into the tight wet heat of her throat. She goes slow, agonizingly slow, taking more of you with each bob, her cheeks hollowing as she applies suction, her tongue working the underside in constant motion. She pulls back until just the tip sits between her lips, sucks firmly, and then descends again, deeper this time, and you feel the back of her throat and the flutter of her swallowing around you.
"Fuck, Jenna," you breathe, your hand finding the back of her head, fingers threading into her dark hair.
She hums around you, pleased, and the vibration travels straight through your cock and into your spine. She settles into a rhythm, bobbing on you with a slow, savoring pace, and it's clear she's enjoying this as much as you are. She pulls off after a while and dips lower, her tongue tracing down past the base of your shaft to your balls. She takes one into her mouth, gentle, rolling it on her tongue while her hand keeps stroking you, and the dual sensation makes your hips jerk off the mattress.
"Stay still," she tells you, releasing you with a wet sound and moving to the other one, sucking it softly into her mouth while her fist pumps your slick cock. "I'm working here. Let me concentrate."
She lavishes attention on your balls until they're wet and tight, then licks her way back up your shaft and swallows you again, picking up speed now, her head bobbing faster, spit dripping down your length and pooling at the base. The sounds are obscene, wet and sloppy, and she doesn't try to be delicate about it. She's messy and thorough and she keeps her eyes on yours while she works, watching you unravel with visible satisfaction.
The first edge builds like a wave you don't see coming until it's already cresting. Your thighs go rigid and your abs clench and your hand tightens in her hair and you're right there, right at the precipice, your cock pulsing in her mouth, and she feels it. She feels the telltale throb against her tongue and she pulls off immediately, her hand releasing you, leaving you straining and twitching in the open air with your orgasm dissolving just before it breaks.
"Not yet," she says, wiping her chin with the back of her hand, grinning up at you while you groan and grip the sheets. "Patience. You taught me that, remember? On the table? You made me wait forever. This is educational."
"You're a nightmare," you manage, your chest heaving.
"I'm a delight and you know it." She waits, watching your cock throb and settle, and when she's satisfied that you've pulled back from the edge enough she dips her head and takes you in her mouth again.
The second round is worse. Or better, depending on perspective. She's learned exactly what gets you close now and she exploits it mercilessly, alternating between slow deep strokes that push you toward the back of her throat and quick focused suction on the head, her tongue flicking across the sensitive spot just below the tip. She drops down to your balls again when she feels you getting too close, lapping at them while she lets your cock cool down for a few seconds, and then she's right back on you, swallowing you deep and moaning around your length like the taste of you is the best thing she's ever had in her mouth. Her free hand comes up to cup your balls, rolling them gently while she sucks you, and the added stimulation pushes you toward the edge at alarming speed.
"Jenna," you warn her, your hand gripping her hair. "I'm going to come if you keep doing that."
She doesn't stop. Not immediately. She takes you all the way to the base, her nose pressing against your stomach, and holds you there in her throat for a long moment, swallowing around you, and your vision whites out at the edges. Then, at the absolute last possible second, she pulls off and squeezes the base of your cock firmly, cutting it off, and you feel the orgasm shatter and recede without ever fully arriving.
"Oh my god," you groan, throwing an arm over your face. "You're killing me. You're actually going to kill me."
"Don't come yet," she says, her breathing heavy, her lips puffy and wet and utterly ruined. She releases your cock and crawls up your body, her small frame sliding along yours, skin against skin, until she's lying on top of you with her face above your face. "I have plans for all your cum. Every single drop. So you don't get to waste it in my mouth. Not tonight."
She leans down and kisses you, and you can taste yourself on her tongue, salty and warm. You kiss her back hard, your hands coming up to grip her waist, and when you break apart she's breathing fast and her pupils are blown wide in the dim light.
You put your hand on her neck, just holding, your fingers spanning the slender column of her throat, and you use that grip to guide her off of you and onto the mattress, rolling her beneath you in one smooth motion. She goes willingly, her dark hair fanning out across the white pillow, her legs falling open as you settle between them. You reach down between your bodies and take your cock in hand, guiding it down until the swollen head presses against her folds. She's soaking wet already, you can feel the heat and the slickness of her against your tip, and you drag yourself through it, parting her lips with the head of your cock and sliding up to nudge her clit before pulling back down to her entrance.
"Is this where you want it?" you ask, pressing forward just enough that the head catches at her opening. "Right here? You want me to fill this pretty little pussy up?"
"Yes, daddy," she whispers, her hips tilting up toward you, trying to take you in. "Put it all inside me. Every drop."
"You sure about that?" You push forward another fraction of an inch, just barely stretching her entrance, holding there. "Because once I start I'm not pulling out."
"I'm sure," she says, her hands gripping your shoulders, her nails biting in. "I'm on the pill. I want to feel you come inside me. I've been thinking about it since last time. Please. I need it."
You press forward, and the tight wet heat of her begins to swallow the head of your cock, her body opening for you inch by slow inch.
You bottom out inside her and hold there, buried to the hilt, feeling her tight wet walls grip every inch of you. She exhales beneath you, long and shaky, her body adjusting to the fullness of you, and you give her a moment before you start to move. The first stroke is slow, pulling almost all the way out and then sinking back in deep, and she gasps, her nails pressing into your shoulders. You set an unhurried pace, long and thorough, each thrust filling her completely before withdrawing again, and you can feel how soaked she is, how easily you glide in and out of her, the obscene slick sound of it filling the quiet bedroom with every stroke.
"Put your hand back on my neck," she breathes, looking up at you through heavy lids. "Please. Like before."
You bring your hand up and wrap it around her throat, your fingers settling against the warm skin, and you apply just enough pressure that she can feel it without it restricting anything. Her eyes flutter and her lips part and she melts deeper into the pillow beneath her.
"Like that?" you ask, your hips still rolling into her at that same slow, punishing pace.
"Yes, daddy," she whispers, her hand coming up to rest on your wrist, not pulling you away, just holding on. "Just like that. Don't let go."
You tighten your grip the slightest fraction and thrust into her deep, holding yourself there while she squirms on your cock. "You had your fun earlier. Edging me with your mouth. Bringing me right to the edge and pulling me back. Watching me suffer." You pull back and slide into her again, slow and deep, and she whimpers. "Now it's my turn. I'm going to take what I want from you. And you're going to give it to me."
"Yes," she breathes, her hips rising to meet you. "Take whatever you want. I'm yours tonight. Use me, daddy. However you want. I'm right here."
You start building the pace. Not all at once but gradually, each thrust coming a little faster and a little harder than the one before, your hand still on her throat and your eyes locked on hers. She holds your gaze, those big dark eyes glazed with pleasure and something raw and trusting underneath it, and her mouth hangs open as the increasing rhythm starts to drive louder sounds out of her. You lean down over her, changing the angle so your cock drags along the front wall of her on every stroke, and you kiss her. Not gentle. You press your mouth to hers and push your tongue between her lips and she opens for you eagerly, moaning into your mouth, and you suck on her tongue, pulling it into your mouth and sucking hard before releasing it and diving back in. She kisses you back with equal ferocity, sloppy and breathless between the jolts of your hips driving into her, her teeth catching your lip, her tongue chasing yours.
Her legs come up and wrap around your waist, her ankles locking together at the small of your back, and the new angle pulls you deeper inside her. She gasps against your mouth and her thighs squeeze you, holding you close, and now every thrust grinds your pelvis against her clit and buries you as deep as her body will allow. She breaks the kiss to throw her head back, her throat pressing into your palm, and her fingers rake down your back harder.
"Oh god," she pants, her legs tightening around you. "Oh god, you're so deep. I can feel you everywhere. You're reaching places nobody's ever reached."
You pick up the pace again, fucking into her with steady, powerful strokes, and she starts to unravel beneath you. Then Jenna looks up at you with those wet eyes and her flushed cheeks and her swollen lips and she starts talking, and the filth that pours out of her pretty mouth makes your cock throb inside her.
"Breed me," she gasps, her hips bucking up to meet every thrust. "I want you to breed this little pussy. I want to feel you come so deep inside me. Fill me up, daddy. I want every single drop. I want to be dripping with it. I want my pussy so full of your cum it's leaking out of me."
"Yeah?" you grunt, snapping your hips harder, the bed creaking beneath you. "You want me to cream this tight little cunt? You want me to pump you full?"
"Yes, please, oh fuck, please," she begs, her nails digging into your back, her body jolting with each impact. "Make my pussy all creamy inside. I want to feel it, I want it so bad, I've been thinking about it all week, thinking about your cock filling me up and leaving me stuffed and dripping."
You release her throat and plant both hands on either side of her head, caging her beneath you, and you give her everything you have. Your hips piston into her relentlessly, the wet smack of your body against hers echoing off the bedroom walls, and she takes every stroke, her small frame absorbing the force of you, her tits bouncing with each impact. You can feel the sweat building between your bodies, can feel the heat of her skin pressed against yours, and her pussy is clenching around you tighter with every thrust, gripping you, pulling you deeper, refusing to let you go.
"Give it to me," she pleads, her legs locked around you so tight you couldn't pull out even if you wanted to. "Give it all to me. Come inside this little pussy. Please daddy, fill me up, I need it so bad!”
The orgasm builds from somewhere deep in your core, a pressure that's been accumulating all night through every edge and every denial, and it rises through you now unstoppable and enormous. Your thrusts go erratic, slamming into her with no rhythm left, just raw desperate need, and you bury yourself to the hilt and hold there as it hits you. You come harder than you've ever come in your life. The first pulse shoots deep inside her and your whole body locks up, your cock throbbing and pumping, flooding her with thick hot ropes of cum, filling her so completely you can feel the warmth of it around your own shaft. It keeps going, wave after wave, your balls emptying into her tight little pussy, and she feels every single pulse of it.
"Oh my god, I can feel it," she cries out beneath you, her eyes going wide, her walls clamping down on your cock. "I can feel you coming inside me, it's so warm, oh fuck, oh fuck, I'm cumming too, I'm cumming."
Her orgasm crashes into her at the same moment, triggered by the sensation of you flooding her, and she shatters around your cock, her pussy convulsing in hard rhythmic squeezes that milk every last drop out of you. Her back arches off the mattress and her legs clamp around you and her whole body trembles violently, the two of you locked together, coming together, your cock buried deep and pulsing inside the tight fluttering grip of her. You feel her cum mix with yours, feel the wet heat of it, and the clenching of her walls draws out your orgasm until you're shuddering and spent and completely emptied into her.
You collapse onto her, catching yourself on your forearms at the last second so you don't crush her, your face buried in her neck, both of you gasping and shaking and slick with sweat. You can feel your cock still twitching inside her, the last weak pulses, and her pussy still fluttering around you in aftershocks.
"Don't pull out," she whispers immediately, her arms wrapping around your back, holding you against her. "Stay inside me. Just a little longer. I want to feel you in me."
You obey. You stay buried in her, softening slowly inside the warm wet mess you made of her, and she sighs beneath you, a sound of total and complete satisfaction. Her fingers trace lazy patterns across your shoulder blades and her breathing gradually evens out, her heartbeat slowing against your chest.
"That was really intense," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "Like, genuinely. I felt that in my soul. We came at the same time. I've never done that before. I didn't think that actually happened outside of movies."
"First time for me too," you say, lifting your head to look at her. "That's never happened before."
"Really?" She searches your face, and whatever she finds there makes her smile. "So we lost our simultaneous orgasm virginity to each other. That's kind of special."
"Kind of special," you agree.
For a moment, she says nothing. Her thumb traces your jaw while she looks at you, her gaze carrying a softness that feels entirely new. "Stay tonight," she says. "Sleep here. With me. In this bed."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure." She pushes a strand of damp hair off your forehead. "And in the morning we can have morning sex. Slow and lazy, the kind where you're both still half asleep. And then maybe I'll even make you breakfast. I can do eggs. They're not great, but they're edible."
"Wow." A grin spreads across your face. "Morning sex and mediocre eggs? That's a really hard invitation to turn down.”
"I know it is," she says, her own grin matching yours. "I made it impossible on purpose. I'm very strategic."
"Then I'm in," you tell her.
She lifts both hands to your face and gently draws you down to her. Her lips meet yours in a slow, lingering kiss, carrying traces of the night. You melt into it, tangled together in the soft white sheets, letting the kiss linger longer than either of you intended.
—
Jenna has a way of slipping into your life without warning. No grand entrance, no announcement. Just a text at nine in the morning while you're preparing for your first client, or a photo of her breakfast, while you send back a photo of your massage table and she replies that seeing it gives her flashbacks and she needs to lie down. This goes on. Throughout the day, between clients, during her meetings or her fittings or whatever it is she's doing on any given Wednesday, your phone buzzes and it's her. Never anything heavy. Never anything that demands a response right this second. Just the steady, easy presence of someone who's thinking about you and isn't trying to hide it.
You see her again three days after that first night. She picks a ramen place this time, somewhere loud enough that nobody pays attention to anyone else, and you sit across from her in a corner booth slurping noodles and talking about nothing in particular.
You end up back at her place. The sex is good, but what strikes you is how different it feels from the first time. Nobody's trying to impress anyone anymore. Nobody's keeping score. You don't even make it to the bedroom. She ends up riding you on the couch, and at one point she has to stop because she's laughing too hard at the cushion constantly sliding off the frame. You're holding onto her with one hand and trying to keep the couch together with the other. Afterward, she stays curled up on top of you while the TV runs in the background. Neither of you could tell anyone what was on. Her fingers drift lazily over your collarbone, and for a while neither of you says anything at all. The quiet feels nice.
You sleep at her place that night. And the next time you see her. And the time after that. It becomes the default, somehow, without either of you formally establishing it. Her bed is bigger than yours and her sheets are nicer and she has a fancy espresso machine that you figure out how to use by the third morning, which earns you a standing ovation from her while she sits on the kitchen counter in your t-shirt with her hair going in six directions.
She starts sleeping at your apartment too, occasionally. The first time, she looks around your place with genuine curiosity, picking things up and examining them, asking questions about the framed photo on your shelf and the stack of books on your nightstand. Your bed is smaller and your neighborhood is louder and she tells you she loves it, that it feels lived in, that her house sometimes feels like a showroom designed by someone who's never actually inhabited a space. She curls up on your side of the bed and steals both pillows and falls asleep before you've even finished brushing your teeth.
Between these nights, in the ordinary hours, you learn things about her. Not the things you could read in any magazine profile, not the filmography facts or the career milestones, but the small private details that only proximity reveals. She's particular about her morning routine in a way that borders on ritualistic, always in the same order, face wash then moisturizer then sunscreen, and she does it with a focus that suggests the world might end if she skips a step. She gets anxious before phone calls with her manager and paces the kitchen while she talks, opening and closing the fridge repeatedly without ever taking anything out. She watches horror movies the way other people watch nature documentaries, analytically, pausing to comment on the practical effects or the score choices, pointing out where the scare was telegraphed and where it actually landed. She's terrified of moths for reasons she refuses to explain. She can quote entire scenes from films you've never heard of.
She learns about you too. That you played soccer in college but blew out your knee sophomore year, which is how you ended up in physical therapy and eventually massage. That your parents are divorced and you're closer to your mother. That you read before bed every night without exception and if you skip it you can't fall asleep. That you're genuinely uninterested in social media and your Instagram exists purely because the spa required it. That you cook well but only three things, and you rotate between them with no shame. She absorbs all of it quietly, storing it away, and you notice her remembering details you mentioned once in passing, bringing them up days later in a way that tells you she was actually listening.
The conversations always have that same easy quality. Nothing forced. She's funnier in private than she probably is in any interview, quicker and meaner and more willing to be the butt of her own joke. She never tries to impress you with stories about her career and you never ask. When work comes up it's casual, the same way you'd mention a difficult client or a long day. She talks about a fitting that ran three hours and made her want to scream. You talk about a deep tissue session that left your hands aching. These things sit side by side, equal and unremarkable, and that seems to be exactly how both of you prefer it.
One night, maybe two and a half weeks in, she asks you about the three other clients. Not with jealousy. With curiosity. She's lying next to you in her bed, on her stomach, chin propped on her folded arms, and she asks what happened with them and why you never went back. You tell her the truth. That they were nice enough but there was nothing beyond the physical. That repeating it would have been complicated and ultimately pointless. That none of them made you want to break the rule.
She falls silent for a second before saying, "And I did.”
"You did," you confirm.
She smiles into her arms and doesn't say anything else about it, but you feel her foot slide over to touch yours under the covers and stay there.
By the third week, you stop counting. You stop tracking the timeline in your head, stop noting which night is the fourth or fifth or sixth, because the numbers stop mattering. She is simply present. A fixture. The girl whose toothbrush is in your bathroom and whose hair ties are on your nightstand and whose sleepy morning texts arrive before your alarm goes off. The girl who argues with you about what to order for dinner and always wins.
It's a Saturday evening, or maybe a Friday, and you're on her couch. Some movie is playing on the screen across the room, something she picked, and the lights are low and the remnants of takeout containers sit on the coffee table. She started the movie sitting next to you, her legs tucked underneath her, but over the course of the first act she migrated, shifting and resettling, and now her head is in your lap, her body stretched along the length of the couch, her dark hair fanning across your thigh. She's watching the screen with half-focused attention, occasionally murmuring commentary about the cinematography or the lead actor's choices, and your hand is in her hair. Not doing anything particular. Just stroking, your fingers combing through the dark strands, moving from her temple back over her ear and down to the ends and then starting again. She leans into the contact the way a cat does, tilting her head subtly to follow the path of your fingers, and every now and then her eyes close for a few seconds before she opens them again to keep watching.
"That shot was gorgeous," she murmurs at one point, not looking up at you. "The framing. The way they held the wide angle. Most directors would've cut to the close-up way too early."
"Mm," you say, your fingers working a gentle path through her hair.
"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you."
"Not even a little bit."
Jenna laughs softly, then she reaches up and finds your free hand and laces her fingers through yours, bringing your joined hands to rest against her chest. She holds them there, your knuckles against her sternum, then she turns her attention back to the screen, and it hits you all at once how completely this moment exists outside anything you ever planned for.
—
She shows up at your door on a Monday afternoon. No text beforehand, no warning, just a knock, and when you open it she's standing there in a plaid skirt and an oversized cream sweater that swallows her frame, a pair of sunglasses pushed up on top of her head. She looks like she's on her way somewhere. You know immediately that something is off because she doesn't greet you with a joke or a kiss or a complaint about traffic. She just says hi and walks past you into the apartment.
She sits on the arm of your couch instead of the cushion. Not relaxed. Perched. Like she might need to leave quickly. You close the door and lean against the kitchen counter across from her, giving her room, and you wait.
"So," she says, picking at a thread on her sweater sleeve. "I got the part. That project I've been talking about. They confirmed it yesterday."
"That's great," you say. "Congratulations. That's the one you really wanted."
"It is. Thank you." She's looking at the floor between you. "Filming starts in twelve days. In London."
"London."
"Yeah." She finally looks up at you. "I'll be gone about six months. Maybe longer depending on reshoots, but the core shoot is six months."
Six months. You turn the number over in your head, automatically calculating where that puts you. Sometime next year.
"Wow," you say. "That's a long time. That's like, a really significant stretch."
"I know." She pulls at the thread harder. "I know it is."
"You could've sent a message, you know. You didn't have to come all the way across town for this."
"No, I wanted to tell you in person. The flight is in six hours. I've got a car picking me up at four. I just, I didn't want to text you something like this. It felt wrong."
"Okay. So this is serious business, huh."
She gives a nervous little laugh. "Yeah. I mean." She pauses, runs her hand over her face, and exhales. "It kind of feels like things between us have gotten a little out of control. Don't you think? Like, we started this as one thing and now it's, I don't know. It's something else. And I'm about to leave for half a year and I feel like we should probably talk about that."
You push off the counter and move to the couch, sitting down on the actual cushion beside where she's perched on the arm. You look up at her. "Okay. I think it's time we're honest about what's going on between us."
"Agreed," she says. "One hundred percent. Let's do that."
Silence. She looks at you. You look at her.
"You start," she says.
"Why me?"
"Because you're the good guy," she says, gesturing at you with both hands as if this is self-evident. "This is the part of the movie where the good guy declares his feelings for the good girl. You give the speech. I react emotionally. It's a classic structure. I've done this scene a dozen times."
"I'm not sure that's entirely accurate," you say. "And you're not exactly the good girl in this scenario. Let's be real."
"Rude. But fair. Go ahead. Tell me."
You lean back into the couch and take a breath. "Okay. In the last few weeks, things between us have gotten pretty intense. And I know we both felt that happening and neither of us said anything about it because it was easier to just keep going and not put a label on it. But it went past casual a while ago. We both know that. And I don't mind. I'm not scared of it. I've actually been enjoying it, a lot. Waking up next to you these past couple of weeks has been, honestly… it's been amazing. You're amazing. And six months without that is going to suck. I'm going to miss you."
She's quiet through the whole thing, her eyes on yours, and you watch the tension in her shoulders gradually release as you talk. When you finish she nods slowly, pressing her lips together, and you can see her processing.
"Okay," she says softly. "Yeah. I feel the same way. About all of it." She slides off the arm of the couch and onto the cushion next to you, tucking one leg underneath herself. "And I think that's been kind of obvious, right? Like, embarrassingly obvious. I was sleeping at your apartment four nights a week. I have a toothbrush in your bathroom. I reorganized your spice cabinet last Thursday and you didn't even comment on it. We were both just playing at being naive and pretending this was still casual when it clearly stopped being casual somewhere around the third week."
"Probably earlier than that," you admit.
"Probably." She exhales and stares at her hands in her lap. "And now I'm leaving and we don't have time to figure out what this actually is. That's the part that's messing with my head. We were in the middle of something and now there's going to be this huge gap right when it was getting real." She looks at you, and there's genuine worry beneath the composure. "Do you think it's too late? For us to figure this out?"
"I think maybe we need to admit what this is. What it already is. And then see if the feeling survives six months of distance. Because if it does, if we both still feel this way on the other side of it, then it's worth investing in for real. All the way."
"I'll text you every day," she says. "I mean it. Every single day. You'll be sick of me by month two."
"I'll hold you to that. Every day. No exceptions."
"No exceptions." She nods firmly, more to herself than to you, and then she leans over and kisses you. Her hand coming up to rest against your cheek, her lips pressing to yours gently, and you can feel the emotion packed into it, all the things she didn't quite say out loud folded into the contact of her mouth against yours. You kiss her back and she pulls away, but she doesn't stand up. She doesn't move toward the door. She stays right there on the cushion next to you, her knee touching your thigh, her fingers still resting against the side of your face.
"We still have a few hours," she says quietly. "I don't want to spend them being sad about leaving."
"A farewell fuck," you say, and you watch the corner of her mouth twitch. "That sounds totally like us."
"It sounds exactly like us," she agrees, and then she's kissing you again, harder this time, her hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you into her. You wrap an arm around her waist and kiss her deep, your tongue meeting hers, and without breaking the kiss you pull her toward you and she follows, climbing into your lap with ease, her skirt riding up her thighs as she straddles you on the couch. Your hands settle on her hips and her fingers thread into your hair and the kiss gets wetter, needier, the kind of kiss that knows it has to last for six months.
She breaks away to breathe, her forehead against yours, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She looks at you for a long second. Then she takes your face in both hands, tips your chin up, and spits into your open mouth.
You swallow it. Blink. Look at her.
"That one's new," you say.
"Improvised," she says, completely unapologetic, that bratty little spark back in her dark eyes. "Felt right in the moment. Went with it."
"You actors really are good at improvising," you say, licking your lips. "Fully committed to the choice. Very bold."
"Thank you. I trained extensively." She shifts in your lap, settling her weight, and she goes still as she feels the hard length of you pressing against the inside of her thigh through your pants. Her eyebrows lift and she rolls her hips once, slowly, grinding against you, confirming what she felt.
"Okay," she murmurs, rocking against you again, feeling you twitch beneath her. "Enough with the improv. I think it's time I follow the script." She reaches between your bodies and presses her palm flat against the bulge straining against your zipper, squeezing gently. "And we both know exactly how this scene goes.”
You reach between your bodies and fumble with your zipper, lifting your hips off the couch enough to shove your pants and boxers down your thighs in one motion, Jenna rising up on her knees to give you room without climbing off your lap. Your cock springs free, hard and flushed, and she looks down between them at it with that hungry little expression you've come to know well. She reaches down and pulls the crotch of her panties to one side, holding the fabric taut against her inner thigh with two fingers, and with her other hand she gathers her skirt up around her waist, bunching the plaid fabric so nothing is in the way.
You take yourself in hand and angle upward, pressing the swollen head against her slick folds, and she's already wet, and you drag the tip through the warm mess of her, parting her, finding her entrance. She braces one hand on your shoulder and starts to lower herself. Her thighs flexing on either side of yours as she takes you in bit by bit, her tight cunt stretching to accommodate you, her breath going shallow. You watch her face as she sinks, watch the way her brow creases and her lips fall open and her eyelids flutter, and then she bottoms out with her full weight in your lap and your cock buried completely inside her, and she exhales long and unsteady.
"There," she breathes, settling, adjusting, her inner walls squeezing around you in a slow pulse. "God... Every time. Every single time it feels like the first time."
She starts to move. Lifting herself with her thighs and dropping back down, finding a rhythm that's slow and grinding, her hips rolling in small circles every time she takes you to the base. Her hand stays fisted in her skirt, holding it out of the way, and you can see everything, your cock disappearing into her, the way her pussy stretches around your girth, the shine of her arousal coating your shaft as she rises and falls. She keeps the pace unhurried, savoring it, and you realize she's memorizing this. Banking the sensation for the months ahead.
You pull her face to yours and kiss her, catching her mouth mid-rise, and she moans softly against your lips as she sinks back down. You kiss her deep and slow, matching the pace of her hips, your tongues sliding together while she rides, and she tastes warm and familiar and a little desperate. She breaks away to pant, her forehead pressing against yours.
"I'm going to think about this every night I'm away," she murmurs, lifting and dropping, lifting and dropping, her pussy gripping you on every stroke. "In some hotel room in London, alone in bed, I'm going to think about your cock inside me and touch myself and it's not going to be enough."
"Then make this one count," you tell her, your hands finding her waist through the bulky sweater. "Take what you need."
"I plan to." She rolls her hips in a tight circle and you feel your cock stir inside her, nudging deeper at a different angle, and her breath catches. "I plan to take everything I can get in the next few hours."
You tug at the hem of her sweater, pulling it upward, and she releases her skirt long enough to raise her arms so you can peel it off over her head. It goes somewhere behind the couch. Underneath she's wearing a simple black bra, nothing fancy, the kind of thing she threw on this morning without thinking, her skin is warm and flushed beneath your palms as you run your hands up her bare sides. She's still riding you, never stopped, her rhythm continuous and steady, and the absence of the sweater lets you feel the heat of her body against yours, the slight dampness building between your chests.
"Get this off too," you say, your fingers finding the clasp at her back.
She reaches behind herself and unhooks it with one hand and shrugs the straps off her shoulders. The bra falls away and her small breasts are bare, nipples already stiff, and you fill your hands with them immediately. You cup both in your palms and squeeze, feeling the soft give of them, your thumbs finding her nipples and pressing, rolling them between your fingers while she rides your cock. Her back arches into your touch and a low sound escapes her throat, needy and pleased.
"You love my tits," she says, watching you touch her, her hips still working steadily. "Every time. The second they're out, your hands are on them."
"Can you blame me," you say, pinching lightly, tugging, and she gasps and grinds down harder on you. You squeeze them together and run your thumbs across both nipples simultaneously, and her pace falters for just a second before she recovers.
"Fuck," she pants, planting both hands on your chest now and leaning into you, using the leverage to ride you faster. The angle shifts and your cock hits deeper and she makes a choked sound that she tries to swallow. "Your hands… I swear. Even now. Even when you're just sitting there and I'm doing all the work, your hands make me insane."
"That's literally my profession," you remind her, rolling her nipples between your thumbs and forefingers. "Hands are my whole thing."
"Shut up and keep touching me." She bounces on you harder, her thighs flexing, her ass slapping against your lap on every downstroke, and you keep your hands on her breasts, kneading and squeezing and teasing her nipples while she fucks herself on your cock. Her skirt is bunched around her waist, her panties still pulled to the side, and the visual of her half-dressed and riding you, tits in your hands and her face twisted in pleasure, is something you want burned into your memory for the next six months.
"You feel incredible," you tell her, squeezing her breasts harder. "Your tight little cunt. The way you ride. I'm going to think about this too. Every single day you're gone."
"Good," she gasps, her nails digging into your chest. "I want you thinking about me. I want you unable to function. I want your cock hard in the middle of a massage because you thought about me for half a second."
"That's going to cause problems at work."
"I don't care." She slams down on you and grinds, rotating her hips with you buried to the hilt, and you feel every inch of her tight wet heat clenching around you. "I want to ruin you for six months. I want you counting the days until you can have me again."
She leans forward and kisses you, her breasts pressing against your chest, your hands sliding from her tits around to her back, holding her against you while her tongue pushes into your mouth. She rides you through the kiss, shorter strokes now, keeping you deep, her clit grinding against your pelvis on every roll. You kiss her until neither of you can breathe, until spit is smeared across both your chins and her lipstick is on your mouth and your lungs are burning.
You kiss her again, one more time, hard and brief, and then you grip her hips and lift. She gasps as your cock slides out of her, the sudden emptiness making her whimper, and you guide her off your lap and turn her around. She reads your intention immediately, planting her knees on the couch cushion and bracing her hands on the armrest, her back arching, her skirt still rucked up around her waist and her panties still pulled crookedly to the side. She looks back at you over her shoulder, hair falling across her face, and spreads her knees wider on the cushion.
"There she is," you murmur, getting up on your knees behind her, one hand on her hip and the other guiding your slick cock back to her entrance.
"Come on," she says, pushing her ass back toward you. "We don't have all day. Put it back in me.”
You sink into her to the hilt in one long steady stroke, her pussy so slick and swollen from the edging that you meet almost no resistance, just tight wet heat swallowing you whole. She groans into the armrest, her fingers clawing at the fabric, and you grip both cheeks of her ass, spreading them, watching your cock disappear between her flushed pink lips. You pull back slowly and push in again, setting an easy rhythm. Her cunt is so wet that every thrust produces a thick squeaking noise, that unmistakable sound of a pussy that's been thoroughly worked over, drenched and puffy and desperate to be fucked. Each time you pull back there's a slick sucking quality to it, her walls clinging to your shaft, reluctant to let you withdraw, and each time you push back in there's that soft squelching that gets louder as you build speed.
"Listen to that," you say, squeezing her ass, pulling her cheeks apart so you can watch yourself sliding in and out of her glistening cunt. "Listen to how wet you are."
"It is a mess," she agrees breathlessly, her back arching deeper. "My pussy is a total mess for you. Fuck, I can feel it running down my thighs."
You thrust into her harder and the wet sound intensifies, and you can see it now, the white cream starting to build at the base of your cock, that telltale frothy ring forming where her body meets yours. Every stroke churns it, pulling it out along your shaft in thick milky strings that coat you and smear across her swollen lips. Her pussy is getting creamier with every passing minute, her arousal whipped into something visible and filthy by the steady pistoning of your cock.
"Look at you," you murmur, watching the cream gather and spread. "Getting all creamy on my cock. Making a mess all over yourself."
"I can't help it," she whines, pushing her hips back to meet your thrusts. "My body's been ready to come since I sat on your lap and now it's just leaking everywhere. You did this to me."
You pick up the pace, your hips snapping forward with more force, and she starts throwing her ass back to meet you, matching your rhythm thrust for thrust. The collision of your bodies fills the room alongside the wet sticky sounds of her cunt taking your cock, and her ass ripples with each impact against your hips. You watch the way her small frame absorbs every stroke, the way her spine flexes and her shoulders tense and release, and you can see the cream coating your shaft thicker now, visible even in the dim afternoon light filtering through the apartment windows.
You reach forward and gather her hair in your fist, wrapping the dark strands around your hand once, twice, and you pull. Not violently. Firm and steady, enough to arch her neck back and lift her face off the armrest, and she gasps, her scalp tingling, her back bowing into an extreme curve that changes the angle of your cock inside her.
"Oh god," she chokes out, her hands bracing against the armrest now that her head is pulled back. "Pull my hair and fuck me. Just like that. Make it count. I want to feel this for weeks. I want to be in London with a sore pussy thinking about you."
"You will be," you tell her, tightening your grip in her hair and driving into her harder. "Every time you sit down on set you're going to feel where I've been. Every time you cross your legs in a meeting you're going to remember what my cock feels like splitting you open."
"Yes," she gasps. "Yes, I will. I'm going to think about your cock every single day. I'm going to touch myself in my hotel room and pretend it's you and it's never going to be enough."
You fuck her with her hair wrapped in your fist, pulling her head back just enough to keep that arch in her spine, your other hand gripping her hip for leverage. The pace is relentless now, steady and powerful, and her pussy is making the most obscene sounds you've ever heard, wet and thick and creamy, her arousal churned into froth by the constant friction. You can feel her tightening around you, her walls starting that familiar rhythmic clenching, and her breathing is climbing in pitch, getting shorter and more ragged with every thrust.
"I'm getting close," she pants, her thighs trembling against the couch cushion. "Oh fuck, I'm getting so close. Your cock is hitting the perfect spot. Every time you thrust I feel it in my whole body. My legs are shaking."
"Come for me," you tell her, releasing her hair and gripping both hips, pulling her back onto your cock with every forward thrust, driving as deep as her body will allow. "Come all over this cock, Jenna. Let me feel that creamy little pussy squeeze me. Give it to me. Everything. Right now."
"Oh god," she cries out, her fingers white-knuckling the armrest, her whole body going rigid. "Oh god, I'm coming, I'm coming, it's happening."
Her orgasm crashes through her in waves. You feel it start deep inside, a vice-like clenching around your shaft, and then it pulses outward through her entire body, her legs shaking violently, her abs contracting, her back seizing into a tight arch. She buries her face in the cushion and screams into it, muffled but raw, and her pussy clamps down on you so hard it's almost difficult to keep thrusting. But you do. You fuck her straight through it, never slowing, maintaining that punishing pace while she convulses around you, and each stroke draws another wave of clenching and another broken sound from deep in her chest. The cream on your cock multiplies, thick and white, pushed out of her with every thrust, coating her lips and dripping onto the couch beneath her.
The orgasm rolls through her in what feels like thirty continuous seconds, her body clenching and releasing and clenching again, and you feel your own release building at the base of your spine, drawn out by the relentless milking pressure of her cunt around your shaft. Your balls tighten and your stomach clenches and the heat gathers low and urgent and you know you're almost there.
You give her three more deep thrusts, each one burying yourself completely, grinding against the deepest part of her, and then you pull out. Your cock slides free of her pussy with a slick wet sound, glistening and coated in thick white cream, and you grip yourself and angle upward. You press the swollen head against the tight little ring of her asshole, still shiny and sensitive from your tongue, and you stroke yourself twice, three times, and you come.
The first thick rope pulses out of you and lands directly on her asshole, hot and white against the pink puckered skin. You groan through it, your hand pumping steadily, and the second and third streaks follow, painting her tight little hole in thick creamy lines that pool and drip. You keep stroking, milking yourself empty, watching your cum gather in the cleft of her ass, coating the rim of her asshole until it's glazed and dripping and obscene. A thick bead of it runs slowly down from her asshole toward her spent pussy, leaving a glistening trail across her perineum.
Jenna moans softly as she feels it, a low satisfied purr, her body still trembling with aftershocks. "I can feel it," she murmurs into the cushion, her eyes closed. "Your cum on my ass. It's so warm. It's dripping everywhere."
You milk the last drops out onto her, watching them fall onto the mess you've already made, and then you release yourself and sit back into the corner of the couch, your chest heaving, your cock softening against your thigh, still slick with her cream and your own cum. You let your head fall back against the cushion and close your eyes, catching your breath.
Jenna stays face down for a long moment, her body slack and boneless, draped over the couch with her ass still slightly raised, your cum slowly sliding down her skin. Then she melts all the way flat, lowering herself onto her stomach with a contented sigh, her cheek pressed against the cushion, her eyes half open and glazed. Her skirt is still bunched around her waist. Her hair is a disaster. She looks thoroughly, comprehensively ruined.
"That was really good," she says, her breathing still uneven, a lazy smile spreading across her flushed face. "The ass thing. The tongue. All of it. That was a strong farewell performance."
"Had to make it memorable," you say, still catching your breath.
She crawls across the couch toward you, slow and languid, and tucks herself against your side. She tilts her face up and kisses you, soft and unhurried, tasting faintly of salt and warmth, her hand resting on your chest over your heartbeat. When she pulls back she stays close, her nose almost touching yours, those dark eyes searching your face with something tender lurking beneath the post-orgasm haze.
"How many times do you think we can come before I have to leave?" she asks, her thumb tracing idle circles on your chest. "My car is coming at four. That gives us, what, a few more hours?"
You glance at the clock on the wall behind her. You have time. Plenty of it.
"I think we can find out," you say.
Jenna smiles. Not the bratty grin or the teasing smirk or the performative confidence she wears for the rest of the world. Just a real, genuine, warm smile from a girl who's about to leave for six months and wants to spend every remaining minute exactly where she is.
She's on all fours in front of you, her back arched, her knees spread wide on the couch cushion, her panties stretched crookedly to the side and her skirt bunched around her waist like a belt. She's looking back at you over her shoulder, expecting you to slide back inside her, expecting the blunt press of your cock against her entrance, and instead you grip both cheeks of her ass and spread them apart and press your mouth directly against her tight little asshole.
She jolts. Her whole body tenses and her fingers grip the armrest of the couch and her head whips around, her eyes wide with genuine shock.
"Oh," she breathes, and there's a note of real surprise in it, not performance, not bratty posturing, actual unfiltered surprise. "Oh my god. That's, okay, that's new."
You pull back just enough to talk, your thumbs still holding her open, your breath warm against the sensitive puckered skin. "Thought I'd improvise."
She lets out a shaky laugh, her thighs trembling on either side of your hands. "Using my own material against me. Okay. Respect."
You lean back in and lick her. A slow, flat, broad stroke of your tongue from just above her pussy all the way up to the tight ring of muscle, pressing firmly, and you feel her entire body shudder in response. You do it again, slower this time, letting her feel every millimeter of the contact, and she drops her forehead against the armrest and makes a sound that's somewhere between disbelief and surrender.
"Nobody's ever done this to me," she says into the cushion, her fingers clutching the fabric. "Not once. I've thought about it but nobody's ever actually, oh fuck, oh my god."
You seal your lips around her asshole and suck gently, then release and follow it with the pointed tip of your tongue, tracing tight little circles around the rim. The muscle twitches beneath your mouth, reactive and sensitive, and you keep at it, circling and licking and pressing, varying the pressure, listening to the sounds she's making to guide you. She's vocal in a way she hasn't been before, louder and less controlled, the novelty of the sensation stripping away whatever composure she usually maintains.
"That's insane," she pants, her hips pushing back against your face. "That's absolutely insane. How does that feel so good? It shouldn't feel that good. What the fuck."
You push your tongue against the center, pressing firmly, not penetrating but applying steady targeted pressure, and her thighs clench and her spine dips into a deeper arch. You can feel the tension in her glutes under your hands, the way her body is fighting between instinct and unfamiliarity, wanting more but not sure how to ask for it. So you give her more without making her ask. You flatten your tongue and lap at her in long steady strokes, thorough and wet, getting her slick with spit, and then switch back to the pointed tip, flicking rapidly across the sensitive nerve endings.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck," she whimpers, grinding back against your mouth. "You're eating my ass on your couch. This is so filthy. I love it. I love every second of it. Don't you dare stop."
You have no intention of stopping. You grip her cheeks harder, spreading her wider, burying your face between them, your tongue working her asshole with focused relentless attention. You lick and suck and probe, alternating between techniques, keeping her guessing, and her reactions tell you everything. The rapid breathing when you circle the rim. The full body shiver when you press the flat of your tongue against her and hold it there. The whine that escapes her throat when you point your tongue and push just barely inside, just the tip, just enough to feel the tight ring of muscle give the slightest fraction.
"Right there," she gasps, pushing back. "Oh my god, right there, your tongue, I can feel your tongue trying to get inside my ass, that's so dirty, that's the dirtiest thing anyone has ever done to me."
You keep your tongue where it is, pressing rhythmically against that tight entrance, and you bring your right hand down from her cheek and slide it between her thighs from behind. She's drenched. Your fingers find her pussy swollen and slippery, her arousal coating her inner thighs, and you run two fingers through the mess of it, gathering the wetness, before pressing both fingertips against her opening and pushing inside.
She cries out when you enter her, her cunt clenching around your fingers immediately, tight and hot and soaking wet. You sink both fingers in to the second knuckle and curl them forward, finding the spongy spot on the front wall, and you start to fuck her with your hand while your tongue continues its assault on her ass.
"Oh my god," she practically sobs, her arms giving out, her chest dropping to the cushion while her hips stay raised. "Both. You're doing both at the same time. Your tongue in my ass and your fingers in my pussy. I can't handle this. I actually cannot handle this."
You pump your fingers steadily, curling them on every inward stroke, massaging that sensitive spot inside her, and your tongue keeps circling and pressing and lapping at her asshole, and the combination turns her into something you've never quite seen before. She's writhing, her whole body undulating on the couch, her face pressed into the armrest, and the sounds pouring out of her are raw and broken and utterly without pretense.
"Don't stop, daddy," she begs, rolling her hips between your mouth and your hand, fucking herself on your fingers while grinding back against your tongue. "Please don't stop. Your mouth feels so good on my ass. Your fingers feel so good in my pussy. I'm losing my mind. You're making me lose my mind."
You add more pressure with your fingers, pumping faster, the wet sound of them sliding in and out of her filling the room alongside her desperate panting. Your tongue pushes against her asshole with renewed purpose, firm and insistent, and you feel the ring of muscle relaxing incrementally under the sustained attention, opening to you, her body learning to accept this new kind of pleasure. You seal your lips around her and suck while your tongue works the center, and she practically screams into the cushion.
"Daddy, please," she whines, her thighs shaking violently, her pussy gripping your fingers so tight you can barely move them. "Nobody's ever made me feel like this. My whole body is on fire. I can feel it everywhere. Your tongue on my ass is making my pussy throb and your fingers in my pussy are making my ass clench and it's all connected and I'm going crazy."
You can feel her building toward it. The telltale signs you've learned over these weeks together. The rhythmic clenching of her walls around your fingers, getting tighter and faster. The trembling in her thighs moving into her core. The pitch of her breathing climbing higher. Her whole body is coiling, tensing, approaching that edge with increasing speed, and you know she's close.
"Oh god, daddy, something's happening," she gasps, her hips bucking erratically. "Something's building, it's so intense, it's different from before, it's bigger, I think I'm going to come, daddy, I think I'm going to come from you eating my ass, that's so filthy, I'm so close, I'm so close, please don't stop, please."
You stop.
You pull your mouth away from her ass and slide your fingers out of her pussy in one clean motion, leaving her empty and exposed and teetering on the precipice. She lets out a sound of pure anguished frustration, her hips pushing back toward you searching for contact that isn't there anymore, her body clenching around nothing.
"No," you say, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Not yet. I want you to come with my cock inside you. I want to feel this one around my dick."
She drops her face into the armrest and laughs, breathless and shaky, her whole body still trembling from how close she got. "You're so cruel. You are genuinely the cruelest person I have ever met in my life. You just edged me with your tongue in my ass. That's a war crime."
"You edged me three times the first night we were together," you remind her. "Consider this ongoing retaliation."
She laughs again, shaking her head against the cushion, and then she looks back at you over her shoulder with those glassy dark eyes and flushed cheeks and swollen lips. "Okay. Fine. I accept it. The idea of coming on your cock is better anyway. I want to feel you stretching me when I go over." She bites her bottom lip and pushes her ass back toward you. "But put it in now, daddy. Right now. My pussy is aching. I need you so bad it hurts. Fill me up."
You grip her hip with one hand and take your cock in the other, lining the swollen head up with her dripping entrance, pressing forward until you feel her heat engulf the tip, and you push inside.
You sink into her to the hilt in one long steady stroke, her pussy so slick and swollen from the edging that you meet almost no resistance, just tight wet heat swallowing you whole. She groans into the armrest, her fingers clawing at the fabric, and you grip both cheeks of her ass, spreading them, watching your cock disappear between her flushed pink lips. You pull back slowly and push in again, setting an easy rhythm, and the sound that fills the room is obscene. Her cunt is so wet that every thrust produces a thick squeaking noise, that unmistakable sound of a pussy that's been thoroughly worked over, drenched and puffy and desperate to be fucked. Each time you pull back there's a slick sucking quality to it, her walls clinging to your shaft, reluctant to let you withdraw, and each time you push back in there's that soft squelching that gets louder as you build speed.
"Listen to that," you say, squeezing her ass, pulling her cheeks apart so you can watch yourself sliding in and out of her glistening cunt. "Listen to how wet you are. That's from my mouth on your ass. I ate your little asshole and your pussy turned into a fucking mess."
"It is a mess," she agrees breathlessly, her back arching deeper. "My pussy is a total mess for you. It's been dripping since you put your tongue on me. I can feel it running down my thighs."
You thrust into her harder and the wet sound intensifies, and you can see it now, the white cream starting to build at the base of your cock, that telltale frothy ring forming where her body meets yours. Every stroke churns it, pulling it out along your shaft in thick milky strings that coat you and smear across her swollen lips. Her pussy is getting creamier with every passing minute, her arousal whipped into something visible and filthy by the steady pistoning of your cock.
"Look at you," you murmur, watching the cream gather and spread. "Getting all creamy on my cock. Making a mess all over yourself."
"I can't help it," she whines, pushing her hips back to meet your thrusts. "You edged me so hard. My body's been ready to come for the last twenty minutes and now it's just leaking everywhere. You did this to me."
You pick up the pace, your hips snapping forward with more force, and she starts throwing her ass back to meet you, matching your rhythm thrust for thrust. The collision of your bodies fills the room alongside the wet sticky sounds of her cunt taking your cock, and her ass ripples with each impact against your hips. You watch the way her small frame absorbs every stroke, the way her spine flexes and her shoulders tense and release, and you can see the cream coating your shaft thicker now, visible even in the dim afternoon light.
You reach forward and gather her hair in your fist, wrapping the dark strands around your hand once, twice, and you pull. Not violently. Firm and steady, enough to arch her neck back and lift her face off the armrest, and she gasps, her scalp tingling, her back bowing into an extreme curve that changes the angle of your cock inside her.
"Oh god," she chokes out, her hands bracing against the armrest now that her head is pulled back. "Pull my hair and fuck me. Just like that. Make it count. I want to feel this for weeks. I want to be in London with a sore pussy thinking about you."
"You will be," you tell her, tightening your grip in her hair and driving into her harder. "Every time you sit down on set you're going to feel where I've been. Every time you cross your legs in a meeting you're going to remember what my cock feels like splitting you open."
"Yes," she gasps. "Yes, I will. I'm going to think about your cock every single day. I'm going to touch myself in my hotel room and pretend it's you and it's never going to be enough."
You fuck her with her hair wrapped in your fist, pulling her head back just enough to keep that arch in her spine, your other hand gripping her hip for leverage. The pace is relentless now, steady and powerful, and her pussy is making the most obscene sounds you've ever heard, wet and thick and creamy, her arousal churned into froth by the constant friction. You can feel her tightening around you, her walls starting that familiar rhythmic clenching, and her breathing is climbing in pitch, getting shorter and more ragged with every thrust.
"I'm getting close," she pants, her thighs trembling against the couch cushion. "Oh fuck, I'm getting so close. Your cock is hitting the perfect spot. Every time you thrust I feel it in my whole body. My legs are shaking."
"Come for me," you tell her, releasing her hair and gripping both hips, pulling her back onto your cock with every forward thrust, driving as deep as her body will allow. "Come all over this cock, Jenna. Let me feel that creamy little pussy squeeze me. Give it to me. Everything. Right now."
"Oh god," she cries out, her fingers white-knuckling the armrest, her whole body going rigid. "Oh god, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, it's happening."
You feel it start deep inside, a vice-like clenching around your shaft, and then it pulses outward through her entire body, her legs shaking violently, her abs contracting, her back seizing into a tight arch. She buries her face in the cushion and screams into it, muffled but raw, and her pussy clamps down on you so hard it's almost difficult to keep thrusting. But you do. You fuck her straight through it, never slowing, maintaining that punishing pace while she convulses around you, and each stroke draws another wave of clenching and another broken sound from deep in her chest. The cream on your cock multiplies, thick and white, pushed out of her with every thrust, coating her lips and dripping onto the couch beneath her.
The orgasm rolls through her in what feels like thirty continuous seconds, her body clenching and releasing and clenching again, and you feel your own release building at the base of your spine, drawn out by the relentless milking pressure of her cunt around your shaft. Your balls tighten and your stomach clenches and the heat gathers low and urgent and you know you're almost there.
You give her three more deep thrusts, each one burying yourself completely, grinding against the deepest part of her, and then you pull out. Your cock slides free of her pussy with a slick wet sound, glistening and coated in thick white cream, and you grip yourself and angle upward. You press the swollen head against the tight little ring of her asshole and you stroke yourself twice, three times, and then you come.
The first thick rope pulses out of you and lands directly on her asshole, hot and white against the pink puckered skin. You groan through it, your hand pumping steadily, and the second and third streaks follow, painting her tight little hole in thick creamy lines that pool and drip. You keep stroking, milking yourself empty, watching your cum gather in the cleft of her ass, coating the rim of her asshole until it's glazed and dripping. A thick bead of it runs slowly down from her asshole toward her spent pussy, leaving a glistening trail across her perineum.
Jenna moans softly as she feels it, a low satisfied purr, her body still trembling with aftershocks. "I can feel it," she murmurs into the cushion, her eyes closed. "Your cum on my ass. It's so warm. It's dripping everywhere."
You milk the last drops out onto her, watching them fall onto the mess you've already made, and then you release yourself and sit back into the corner of the couch, your chest heaving, your cock softening against your thigh, still slick with her cream and your own cum. You let your head fall back against the cushion and close your eyes, catching your breath.
Jenna stays face down for a long moment, her body slack and boneless, draped over the couch with her ass still slightly raised, your cum slowly sliding down her skin. Then she melts all the way flat, lowering herself onto her stomach with a contented sigh, her cheek pressed against the cushion, her eyes half open and glazed.
"That was really good," she says, her breathing still uneven, a lazy smile spreading across her flushed face. "The ass thing. All of it. That was a strong farewell performance."
"Had to make it memorable," you say, still catching your breath.
She crawls across the couch toward you, slow and languid, and tucks herself against your side. She tilts her face up and kisses you, tasting faintly of salt and warmth, her hand resting on your chest over your heartbeat. When she pulls back she stays close, her nose almost touching yours, those dark eyes searching your face with something tender lurking beneath the post-orgasm haze.
"How many times do you think we can come before I have to leave?" she asks, her thumb tracing idle circles on your chest. "My car is coming at four. That gives us, what, a few more hours?"
You glance at the clock on the wall behind her. You have time. Plenty of it.
"I think we can find out," you say.
Jenna smiles. Not the bratty grin or the teasing smirk, just a real smile from a girl who’s about to leave for six months and wants to spend every minute she has left exactly where she is.
—
You're brushing your teeth when the apartment finally catches up with you. The silence of it. Not the usual silence of living alone, but the silence of an absence.
Her sneakers aren't by the door anymore. The couch cushion where she was stretched out a few hours ago still holds the faint impression of her body. The whole apartment carries traces of her: a hint of perfume, the lingering aftermath of sex…
You spit, rinse, wipe your mouth, and pad into the bedroom. The sheets are clean because you changed them this morning, before she came over, before everything, and they feel too smooth and too cold when you climb in. You plug your phone into the charger and set it on the nightstand and you're reaching for the lamp when the screen lights up.
A photo. Jenna in an airplane seat, first class, her hair pulled back under a baseball cap, her face bare and a little tired. She's doing a peace sign. Behind her you can see the curve of the cabin wall and the edge of a window showing nothing but dark tarmac.
It's going to be a long flight
You pull the phone off the charger and settle back against your pillow, typing with one thumb.
How long?
Like 11 hours. I'm going to lose my mind
Sounds rough. You should try to rest during the trip. You'll need it when you land
I will. Eventually. I'm too wired right now. My body is still buzzing from earlier.
I'll probably dream about you. Just so you know.
That's actually really romantic. I'll dream about you too
You better. If I find out you dreamed about someone else I'm flying back immediately to fight you
Nobody else worth dreaming about
She doesn't respond right away to that one. Three dots appear and disappear twice before her next message comes through, and you can picture her in that airplane seat, cap pulled low, chewing her lip, trying to figure out how to respond to sincerity the way she always does.
It's going to be a long six months
We'll survive it
You think so?
I know so
How? How do you know?
You stare at the screen for a moment, thinking about what to say. You could send something long, something thoughtful about how the last few weeks have shown that this is real, that it's worth holding onto. But that's never really been how the two of you communicate. You say what matters and leave the rest unsaid. Right now, she doesn't need a speech. She just needs to know.
Because nothing about this has felt temporary. Not once. And I don't think six months changes that
I really like your confidence. It's annoyingly attractive
That's my best trait. Top of the list. Everything else is secondary
Oh please. Your best trait is your hands and we both know it
Fair point. Confidence is second then. Now rest. Seriously. Sleep on the plane. We'll talk when you land
Okay okay. I'm going to sleep. Talk later
Talk later. Bye, Jenna
Bye babe
You stare at that last message. Babe...
Two syllables. Four letters. Dropped into the conversation like it was something she'd been saying for months. But she hasn't. Not once in all the weeks of texts and nights together and mornings tangled in sheets has either of you used a pet name. Not once. She's called you daddy in bed but that's different, that lives in a separate category, and outside of those moments you've both operated in the careful neutral territory of first names and pronouns. Well, it seems that has changed too.
And you like it. You really like it.
Six months. A hundred and eighty days, give or take. She'll be in London, on sets, in costume, surrounded by crews and actors and the entire machinery of her career, and you'll be here, in this apartment, at the spa, running your hands over strangers' backs and checking your phone between clients. The distance will be real and constant and some days it will probably be terrible. You know that. You're not naive about it.
But you're not worried either, and that might be the strangest thing of all. There isn't even a trace of doubt. What started on a massage table in a villa has become woven into the fabric of your days; there in the mornings, there in the evenings, there in the ridiculous smile that appears whenever her name lights up your screen at eleven o'clock at night. It wasn't something either of you performed into existence. It just happened, slowly and naturally, between two people who weren't looking for it but found it anyway.
You close your eyes. Your phone lies untouched on the nightstand. Somewhere over the Atlantic, a girl in a baseball cap is curling up in a first-class seat, falling asleep thousands of miles away. And somehow, you're completely certain that when you wake up, there'll be a message from her.
With that thought, you settle into your pillow and drift off.
Alarms blared in your head. Fires deep in your gut were being put out by spiritual little firemen. You’d been waiting all day for this; it was now or never.
“Hey, uh… are you... doing anything tonight?”
Yuna and Wonyoung looked back at you, puzzled. They had just packed up and on their way out, ready to clock out on the dot.
“I’m going out for a friend's birthday party,” Yuna replied.
“Me? I’m just gonna do some groceries. Didn't get to do it last weekend,” Wonyoung replied.
“Oh,” you remarked. “Can I join you?”
You paused, the three of you staring at each other awkwardly.
“To the birthday party?,” Yuna smirked.
“No! No, the uhh... grocery…?” you fumbled, hesitant.
The pair looked at each other, and erupted in laughter.
The first day back after your very eventful weekend was going much slower than expected. Save for the now conspicuous seating arrangement – you within the sightline of both Yuna and Wonyoung, sat at the center on one side with the both of them on opposite ends opposite you – and the met gazes and heart-melting smiles, work was practically same as normal. In hindsight, to have assumed – or perhaps, fantasized – they’d tease you incessantly today unnecessarily tensed you up. But such circumstances never came, for reasons you couldn’t surmise – at least, until this moment.
“Babe, calm down!,” Wonyoung reassured. “You look like you’re about to pass out.” She pulled your chin towards her and kissed you on the cheek, and the spot burned hotter than any fire in your gut.
“Sorry. I just didn’t wanna make things awkward, or something. I dunno.” Did you feel tears well up in your eyes? Maybe; you were too distracted by Wonyoung and Yuna’s faces right next to yours to enote.
Yuna cupped your face in her hands. “Aww, are you clingy?”
“What? No,” you lied, “not as much as you’re teasing me for.”
Yuna pecked you on the lips with a toothy grin. “I know. Stop worrying.”
You smiled, then chuckled as the whole weight of your anxiety fell from your insides, and the two laughed with you.
You calmly looked around if anyone was passing by, and when the coast was clear you pulled them both into your arms and returned their affections – you kissed Wonyoung, while Yuna smooched your cheek, then you pulled Yuna in, Wonyoung peppering your cheek next.
When you all caught your breaths, you sighed out a single, yearning “fuck,” and the pair laughed heartily as you shut the lights in your office and headed out.
“Helping with groceries is hardly a date,” Wonyoung scoffed as you walked out of the office building.
“Hey, it’s boyfriend errands,” Yuna suggested, looking at you. “I think it’s a date.”
“We can get ice cream after,” you offered, “my treat.”
“See, a date,” Yuna snapped on behalf of a more satisfied Wonyoung. You both glanced at her, waiting for her approval; a grinned roll of the eyes was all you needed to see.
“Aww, I'm so excited for you and it’s making me jealous,” Yuna taunted.
“Then go out with him tomorrow,” Wonyoung scoffed. “You’re free tomorrow for Yuna, right, baby?”
You gulped aloud. “Y-yeah,” you mumbled, “just need to think of something to do.”
“Why do you sound so awkward?,” Wonyoung scoffed, poking your side. "Loosen up."
You crossed your arms. “You make it sound like last weekend was nothing.”
“Wittle boy throwin’ a tantrum?,” she teased again.
“No! It's more that you're both so...,” you fumbled about with your hands. “casual.”
“Well, we ended our conversation with you committing to date us,” Yuna reassured. “And you are. So it’s alright! We just love teasing you. You’re cute when you'’e flustered.” Wonyoung nodded in agreement. You felt your cheeks flush as they hid in your shoulders.
Man, were you whipped for the both of them. More than the teasing scratching a specific itch (or kink?), you still couldn't keep your eyes off them, smiles warmly greeting yet chillingly comforting. And gaze you did, the mere fixation on their eyes, their lips, the subtle curves and even subtler peeks of skin in their unusually casual sweaters-and-sweatpants outfits of the day, their everything – it all brought to mind the before-and-after of their smiles first in the afternoon light and then coated in your manifest profession of infatuation.
“I’ll go ahead now, still gotta get dressed,” Yuna reached in for one last kiss, a bit more cautiously now out in public. “See ya!”
As she subtly skipped away, you and Wonyoung looked at each other.
“You know, it’s weird she’s the older one,” you commented.
“Tell me about it,” Wonyoung groaned. “It felt like a princess was moving in last night.”
“And you aren’t?,” you teased, bumping her shoulder. She slapped your arm before snaking her hand in between.
“C’mon. You’ve got boyfriend duties to fulfill.”
How lucky you were, you sighed, and the hesitation left with your breath.
=====
Wonyoung never came across as the “act now, think at the same time” kind of person. Yet every aisle she seemingly aimlessly dragged you to in the supermarket suggested she had no idea where things were. Granted, it was clear that she knew what she needed, even without any list prepared anywhere, and weaved through each shelf without a moment wasted.
“Is it really acting first if you think about how to do it first?,” she retorted to your aforementioned comment. “At least I'm not spontaneous. I plan just enough.”
You gestured at the improvised section of the cart. “Around half this basket and just as much ‘oh yeah’s beg to differ.”
“Shut up,” Wonyoung laughed, “I also took twice as long as usual. Now whose fault is that?”
You felt your ears burn shyly all the way until you reached the cashier. Quiet as you stood, Wonyoung leaned into your chest and rested her head on it. “Thanks for coming with me, babe. You made this fun.”
You sighed heavily. “You two are going to kill me every time you call me that.”
She tiptoed and wrapped her arms around your neck. “Then what’s gonna happen if I do this and call you ‘baby boy’ in public, hm?”
You looked at both ends of the empty aisle, out of sight from the old lady punching away at her screen, and pulled her entire body in for a kiss. You locked lips for full seconds, heaving as you dove in deep, even grabbing a handful of her ass. And then, without warning, you let go of her in the next breath. She looked at you with a mischievous, slightly annoyed smile.
“You asked,” you taunted.
“Oho, just you wait until I have my hands all over you, you naughty boy,” she smirked, eyebrows furrowed and eyes beady.
At the register, you helped her pack things into an eco-bag (which, of course, she did have ready). Looking left and right to an otherwise empty lane, you made a quick grope of Wonyoung’s ass once more, this time with your hand inside a back pocket. You heard her barely subdue a moan, prompting an extra loud slap of your back.
“Ow!,” you yelped. “Babe!”
By the time the words left your mouth in shock, you felt a pang of shame overcome you. Did you just call her that? Wonyoung seemed to notice, her scowl replaced by wide eyes and a raised eyebrow. Did you just call me that?, she said silently. The cashier handing back her card cut your nonverbal conversation short.
“Forget the ice cream,” she whispered into your ear, pulling you down by the bunched up collar of your shirt. “You are so dead tonight,”
=====
You barely managed to throw the frozen goods in the freezer before Wonyoung lunged at you. Her hands were magnetized to your chest, returning to their place after every lift and throw of your clothes.
“Did you miss me that much?,” you teased.
“Of course I did, babe,” Wonyoung chuckled, kissing your face over and over again on her tiptoes.
You bumped into chairs and tables, tossing cloth after cloth off your bodies and onto the floor, until you towered over her on the couch, kissing her soft face in reply.
“This is different,” you chuckled.
“Because I'm not on top?”
“Yep.”
“Do you want me to, baby boy?,” she ran her hands through your hair, fingers primed to grab you fully.
You responded by holding her face with your hand, swiping your thumb across her plump cheek. “I want what you want, l–” you hesitated. “Love.”
Wonyoung visibly shrank at the pet name, eyes twinkling as they hid behind grinning cheeks. “Damn it, you're making me feel soft.” She pulled you in for more kisses, mouths all over each others’ faces. “God, you’re so cute.”
“All yours,” you mumbled into her mouth. “Sex?”
“Mmm...,” she thought aloud. “Sure.”
“Cool,” you grinned. “Man, that was easier than the first time.”
You sat up and pulled her with you, the both of you wrapping yourselves around each other on her faux leather couch. The lifting of sweaty limbs left traces all over its surface, squeaking as you ground into each other. Wonyoung’s wet folds pressed hard against the underside of your shaft, sandwiched between your hips, begging for connection.
“Need your cock,” she whispered, her wide grin audible from behind your ear. “Need it inside me.”
You ran a hand fondling her tits down to her clit, rubbing the swollen bud slowly with your thumb. Wonyoung’s shaky gasp was cut short with your tongue slithering into her mouth, now fully agape.
“Or I could… use my fingers as promised,” you whispered into her mouth. Wonyoung’s lips curled into a sly, expectant smile, pulling you back over her as she laid on the sofa. “Do your thing, baby boy.”
You slid your pointer and middle up both lips, warm and soft. You met them at the top, right at its stiff, damp bud, and Wonyoung moaned deeply.
“Fuck, you tease,” she groaned.
“Sorry,” you chuckled. “Need to get you a bit wetter.”
You groped her breasts, massaging with your knuckles gently. She moaned softly in your mouth stuck to hers once more, your tongue swirling even more frantically than her own.
You kissed lower and lower past her neck, taking one nub in one mouth and pinching the other between two fingers. And though you were much bigger, you laid down with your bare chest on her soft and dainty waist, to bring your other hand under her and grope her ass, this time sans all clothing.
Though you fixated on her face, every contortion and twitch, Wonyoung laid with eyes closed – and you found yourself wanting.
“Look at me, babe,” you whispered. Her eyes fluttered open as you kissed another trail from between her mounds to the very apex of her already bare stomach. You could see in the mist of her eyes she was begging for everything – your tongue, your cock, your loving – but did everything to keep still for your demonstration.
You made a few dragged-out licks of her bud, looking up at her hungrily, and she smiled as she looked down. With the scoop of nectar that you scraped off, you knew she was ready.
Without need for warning, she took your fingers in easily, both instantly coated in a squelchy film. You felt around in her folds, listening to the instincts kick in as you gently scratched at the roof of her core with your fingertips.
“O-ohh, fuck,” she gasped. “Y-you weren't kidding about your fingers.”
Every pump of your fingers eked out a squeak from Wonyoung, each twist of your wrist sending ripples of arousal all over her.
She writhed about and bucked her hips into your fingers, trying to shove you deeper into her. You used your other hand to lock a leg down by the thigh; with both your hands busy, she groped her breasts, doing the same nipple pinching and massaging you did.
“Fuck, you're– mmmh,” she struggled. “How are you so good at this?!”
“Anything for you, baby,” you smiled, grunting with every thrust of your hand. You moved up and switched to your ring and middle fingers, gratuitously slamming your palm over her swollen lips.
You could see, feel each one rippling throughout her body, until her already tight abdomen trembled with her mounting climax. You sank your mouth down to meet hers, her kisses more frantic and distracted. Wonyoung continued to moan profanities right into your mouth, still hovering over her with a prideful smile on your face.
“Baby, watch,” you said, taking out your fingers. Before she could whine, you took all three fingers and licked them clean, even teasingly spreading them into a V-shape and licking the sticky strands between them.
“Fuck,” she whined. “Need you. Need you inside me. Please.”
“Aren’t you eager,” you remarked. “What if I wanna make you cum with my fingers, love?”
Wonyoung whined. “Fuck, you– mmmh! Yes, I’m so close!”
You clapped into her core with full force, feeling your digits spray out little flecks of her squirt. She clawed at the edges of the sofa frantically, kicking her legs into the armrest.
“Don’t hold back,” you whispered. “Cum for me.”
Wonyoung’s whines climbed into whole-chested howls, and a few of those later she suddenly stretched stiff. Her legs stretched fully; her arms tensed. And your hand was trapped between her thighs, barely sizable enough to stop your hand from tickling inside her a little bit more. Unlike your tongue, there was no squirt to reward you – just the complete catastrophic collapse of her more prim and proper being.
“Ohh, fuhhh-ck,” she gritted behind teeth, breathing heavily. You held her in your arms in a now completely drenched sofa. She heaved into your chest with the slightest hint of moaning, which helped keep you hard; one twitch of your shaft and Wonyoung fluttered her eyes at you.
“You d-didn’t even fuck me,” she whined. “You’re unfair, baby boy.” She gingerly wrapped her fingers around the tip, massaging under the head, and you winced in pleasure.
“It’s yours, baby,” you moaned, now hunched over Wonyoung and her bare shoulder.
You'd barely gotten your tongue into Wonyoung’s mouth for round 2 when a fist banged on the front door.
“Wonyoung? You there?,” the raspy voice asked. You both jolted up and headed to the door, wearing your clothes in a rush.
“Who is this?,” Wonyoung asked, adjusting her shirt by the front door. You were still wearing your pants, and barely managed to button it before Wonyoung began undoing locks.
“Yuna, my throat hurts,” Yuna groaned. She opened the door and she fell into Wonyoung's arms.
“Fuck, are you okay?,” Wonyoung asked. “Can you–”
“I got her, yeah,” you swept Yuna off her feet and carried her to the bathroom. In the white light you could see flecks of vomit on her mouth and the hem of her dress. Impressive as it was that it wasn’t more of a mess, the state of her throat suggests it had been a while since she had any proper hydration.
“Get some water,” you asked Wonyoung. “I'll take care of her.”
As Wonyoung left, Yuna turned to you with strained eyes. “Why are you here?”
“I should be asking you that instead,” you rebutted. “How did you get here? Did you drink too fast?”
“Probably should have had more to eat,” she groaned again. “Head hurts.”
“That's the alcohol.” Wonyoung stepped in, handing you a cup of water.
“Here. Slow sips. Don't chug it like soju,” you joked, parting her hair draped over her sweaty face. You took some tissue and wiped the ends of her mouth, revealing an almost babydoll-like Yuna partly conscious in your arms. Her eyes were low, teeth peeking out of her half-open lips. Still, in this state, she looked beautiful and sharp.
“What happened to you? Are you hurt? How did you get home?,” Wonyoung asked rapidfire.
“Okay, let’s slow down a second,” you pressed. “Yuna?”
She coughed a bit. “Didn't get to eat. Things got wild. A guy tried hitting on me. Didn't believe I was taken.” The both of you smirked weakly at the last statement. “Then he grabbed me by the hips. Threw a bottle of water, ran out. Halfway home all the alcohol kicked in.”
“Oh, Yuna,” Wonyoung rubbed her back. “Maybe shower first, then we can settle down.”
“Aren't you proud of me, babe?,” she looked at you with pouty eyebrows. “I don't sleep with anyone but you.” Wonyoung covered her mouth to hold her laughter in; you avoided cringing visibly.
“Okay, Yuna,” you kissed her forehead. “Shower.”
“Can you help me?,” she pouted. Now Wonyoung didn’t even try to hold it in, laughing with gusto.
“Yuna,” you groaned, but she wasn’t hearing any of it – already halfway through getting out of her dress.
“Yuna,” you groaned harder, looking away with a naive innocence – which Wonyoung flicked the back of your head for.
“Who are you kidding, you’ve seen both of us naked already,” she rolled her eyes. She hopped off the counter and walked out. “You help her out first. I'll make some soup.” She whispered in your ear. “We can continue later.” You smiled respectfully in reply, trying not to look too excited.
Bringing your attention back to Yuna, she sat on the floor in her bra and panties, plain black and a stark contrast to her clear white skin. The erection that would have formed upon marveling at her figure was subdued by your concern for her – and the potential headache of her catching you hard.
“Baaabe,” she whined, “my head hurts.”
“Then let's try washing it out,” you reassured.
Whining the whole way into the bath, you breathed a sigh of relief when Yuna closed the curtains before tossing her underwear to you. “Leave it there,” she groaned. You joked by making a loud sniff, and a hand tried to pierce through the curtain. “Weirdo!”
“Ow! I was just kidding!”
She grunted. “Get me the shirt and shorts on the chair in my room, please?”
“Okay, love,” you let slip without hesitation. As you walked out, you could hear Yuna protest against her own infatuation.
“Y– you– hey! Don’t– ugh!”
Wonyoung peered past the kitchen to look at the commotion. “Lemme guess: you called her–”
“Yep,” you smiled, giddy at your antics with a goofy smile. Wonyoung simply shook her head in approval. “Which is her room?”
“Room on the left, the one at the end is mine,” Wonyoung replied as you headed away.
You were surprised to find the room pretty unkempt, but bare, contrary the prior comment of Wonyoung: shelves of books, albums, and pictures, and, as advised, a chair on a lone desk with a laptop and some food, with clothes hung over the backrest.
You brought them back to Yuna in the shower, sitting quietly on the toilet seat. She showered in silence.
“Yuna?”
“Yeah?”
“Nothing. Thought you fell asleep.”
“In the shower?!”
“It's happened to me.”
She peered out of the curtain, covering herself up with it. “You got that drunk? I thought you hadn’t drank vodka before last weekend.”
“That was before. And scotch is crazy too.”
“Huh,” she furrowed her brows.
Silence.
“Yuna.”
“Yeah?”
“You looked pretty in my arms,” you teased.
She blushed. “I– you–”
“Dry up already!,” you groaned, throwing the towel at her face. “Wony's cooking you something.”
Yuna stepped out, indeed naked, water dripping from her petite form. You could see the water bead and roll down her body, along traces of well-cared muscles and the bumps of well-treated skin. Your smile gave way to an unimpeded agape mouth.
Yuna bent over and mocked you. “Not so chatty now, huh?”
You kissed her on the nose. “You get so flustered when I call you pretty. That’s my thing.”
“It's weird, okay?,” she whined, wiping herself down in front of you. “I don't usually get ‘pretty’. It's either ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’ or–”
While she continued her rationale, her leg was fully on your thigh, dripping water. You felt up her smooth shaven skin and kissed her shin gently, before pulling her down to straddle your lap. “Would you rather I be my usual timid self and not say anything?”
She smirked and leaned in. “No.” She gave you a few brief, slow kisses, wet arms hung on your shoulders. She pulled your shirt, already wet with the water that seeped into it, and clawed her fingertips lightly across your back. You shivered from the temperature, with her feeling every ridge of your ribs and spine.
You responded by wrapping an arm across her back and up the back of her head, and another over her well-shapen ass. A whole hand barely fit its full berth, and she moaned into your mouth as you did.
Briefly you made out with each other, even pausing to take your clothes off. Yuna began to grind on you, her pussy slowly getting wetter and wetter with each thrust of her hips. You guided her with your hands, one pulling her in deeper, the other thrusting against you harder.
When Yuna started moaning a bit heavily, you pulled the same stunt with Wonyoung, dragging that hand to the front and rubbing her clit with your thumb. Yuna squealed aloud – perhaps a bit too loudly, because in a few seconds Wonyoung opened the door.
“Hey, this was my date, not yours,” she scoffed.
“Thought it wasn't a date, huh?,” Yuna taunted.
Wonyoung rolled her eyes. “Eat your damn dinner, Yuna. You’ll have your turn tomorrow.”
Yuna rolled her eyes in reply and put on her clothes, nearly going off balance. Wonyoung raised an eyebrow at you, half-annoyed at your second round of antics, and you simply shrugged before closing the door on you.
You all met at the table, sitting down and sharing a pot of ramyeon. Yuna went on about the nightmare she went through earlier at the club. All the while, Wonyoung, who sat beside you, kept her hands busy, massaging your cock back to hardness. She wasn’t even trying so hard, and yet you struggled not to let your eyelids flutter. Meanwhile Yuna, not even aware of this, lifted your feet to rub her bare shins, even bringing them closer to the inside of her knees and thighs – a warmth slowly emanating at your toes.
While Yuna helped clean up as you and Wonyoung chatted at the table, she froze and turned to face you two. “...You fucked, didn't you?”
“No,” Wonyoung lied.
“Yes,” you betrayed her. She slapped your shoulder. “Ow! Okay, we didn’t. Technically I just fingered her.” She slapped you again.
“Hey!,” she pouted. “I– Y– I bet you were gonna fuck again when I fell asleep, weren't you?”
“No,” you defended.
“Yes,” Wonyoung smirked, and you stared at her in confusion.
Yuna whined loudly. “How about me?!”
Wonyoung stood up and whispered something a minute long into her ear. Yuna’s eyebrows perked up, and she whispered something back at her. One brief exchange later, and they curtly shook each other’s hand. Without any explanation, they quietly switched places, Yuna pulling you by the wrist to the kitchen.
“What did you tell her?,” you called out to Wonyoung.
“Oh, nothing,” Wonyoung replied in singsong, “just how well you took care of me tonight.”
“Good job, babe,” Yuna teased, pinching your arm, and a rush of blood to your ears warmed up your cheeks.
“Oh, come on now, baby boy,” she remarked, catching your reaction and holding your head in her hands. “You’ve been so flustered since this morning.” She left a kiss on your cheek.
Wonyoung grasped your shoulders from behind, having finished washing up. “I think he just likes you, Yuna,” she teased, kissing your nape and forcing an arch of your back. “And he just wanted to give you equal attention today.”
“You're so sweet!,” Yuna pouted, making out with you while Wonyoung continued to leave deep, wet kisses around your neck.
“I-it’s late,” you quivered. “I need to go home.”
“You don’t wanna make me feel good, baby?,” Yuna pouted, bottom lip stuck out and all.
That made you snap.
You grabbed Yuna by the shoulders and made out with her sloppily, lips pressed hard against hers that you could almost feel teeth bump against each other. Twist after twist, you slowly undid the clothes you made her wear just minutes ago – perfectly accessible to all her delicate parts, since she never wore her undergarments after her shower.
“The exact same treatment, baby,” Wonyoung cooed in your ear, pulling your pants down and moving to the front of you. Kneeling down between the kitchen counter and you, she kissed your tip, lifting your shaft with bare fingertips. “Don’t let me distract you,” she taunted.
As commanded, you guided Yuna up, her thighs pressed flat against the surface. She bent a leg up, fully exposing her pink folds under the bright white light. Cupping your hand over it, it was warm and hazy, like your brief exchange earlier lingered still.
You took your thumb and swept the entirety of her folds from down to up, allowing a film of her fluid to coat on your fingers, sticky and slick. Yuna hissed, but you met her lips before she could utter a word.
“I’ll take care of you, baby,” you whispered, and Yuna pulled you by the back of your head into her. You propped yourself on one arm, Yuna still hanging onto you, while her other hand crept up your shirt to feel the ridges and bumps of your chest.
You stopped touching her core and, breaking free from her, you placed a strand of her release onto your tongue. Yuna smiled excitedly as you dove into her chest, pinching her nipples with your lips and placing kisses onto her abdomen. She gasped with every sharp movement, like a bundle of sticks slowly coming undone.
“Look at me,” you urged, licking your way down her clean-shaven groin and connecting your mouth with her clit. In one stroke, Yuna let out a chesty “anh!” that echoed across the tile; from below, you caught Wonyoung touching herself while she stroked your tip in her mouth with her tongue.
“Ready?,” you asked Yuna, who nodded while she propped herself up on the surface. With one hand on a leg and your two fingers by her core, you slid your middle and ring into her. It was easier to curl your fingers inside her, and with a few gentle drags Yuna’s arms trembled under her own weight.
“Oh shh–it, mmmh,” Yuna moaned in your ear.
“You like that, love?,” you moaned back, Wonyoung having taken you entirely into your mouth.
“Y-yes, fuck, you’re so hot when you– when you call me that,” Yuna replied, her fingers gripping the corners of the counter.
You slid your fingers in and out, slowly increasing pace and slowing when you felt her tighten up. She wriggled about, held only by your hand on her thigh, yet even that she tried to resist to no avail – not in rejection, but resisting the quickly rising urge to finish.
Wonyoung, too, made it hard for you to resist keeping up your more dominant facade. Each slow drag of her round lips grazed on the sides of your shaft, her mouth practically oozing out her desire to throat you then and there. But fairness demanded her patience; she just made you suffer for having to wait.
Thus your interplay of finishing too soon and finishing sooner played out as expected. Yuna squealed, even whispering your name in between nibbles of your earlobe and jaw. She stopped trying to hold back, instead rubbing her clit alongside your fingers. With a free arm, you gripped tightly on her ass, the whole handful a lot tougher to claw fully.
You jammed your fingers into her until your palm beat against Yuna’s plump pussy lips. Her squeals went silent for a brief second, her mouth fully agape and her head folded back.
“Cum for him, Yuna,” Wonyoung urged, finally deciding to take you into her mouth all the way to the back.
“F-fuck, Yuna! Cum for me!”
With one ear-splitting yelp, Yuna clamped her thighs around your hand, a heavy flow of liquid coating your fingers all the way to your knuckles. It was viscous and milky, which you witnessed more and more of clumped up along your digits as you pulled out of her. You took your time with that, watching Yuna twitch and writhe as you did.
Wonyoung, on the other hand, climbed up on the counter beside Yuna, now naked and legs spread and rattling containers of kitchenware. You licked your hand clean and, with your other, flicked Wonyoung’s clit aggressively. Swollen and wet already, you knew she just wanted one thing – to finish staring into your eyes. And without squealing, she heaved one deep grunt and she twitched and crunched her abdomen.
The both of them offered to you on the counter made your cock twitch. They stared at you, smiling as their chests rose and fell. You couldn't even fathom what they uttered next, so engrossed at the sight of them.
“We want more, baby boy,” Wonyoung taunted.
“Use us,” Yuna cooed. “Give us your load.”
You guided them off the counter and onto the floor, knelt and expecting your full command.
“Don’t be shy now, babe,” Yuna giggled, pulling your hand on her head. You twirled her hair between your fingertips alongside Wonyoung’s, and pulled them towards each other.
“Typical male fantasy,” Wonyoung chuckled, before pulling Yuna’s chin into her mouth and making out with her. Your cock sprang to life watching their tongues roll and twist in and out of their mouths. You slowly slid your cock between them, tongues now caressing your length as you pumped in and out of them.
The two held their places, letting you and their tongues do all the work. You thrusted into them hard, until your balls slapped their cheeks and your thighs burned with strain. They gurgled and spat all over your shaft, cock wafting with the sting of drying spit and sweat. But none of you flinched – you kept your pace going, and they kept their arousal evident.
“Gihh ihh to uhh,” Wonyoung smiled.
“We wahh ihh ahhl,” Yuna invited, tongues now rubbing the underside of your cock. You kept pumping into their mouths, feeling your load well up in your shaft.
You pulled away and stroked, your hand pumping hard and slick with all their spit coating you. You watched them spit into their hands and slowly wrap their fingers around you, interlaced and tight.
“We love doing this, don’t we?,” Yuna remarked, stroking hard and replacing your hand. You fell back against a different counter, your hips thrusting into the air as they did. The pleasure was intense, and you felt yourself in an ironically familiar position, squirming around to resist how quick they were making you cum. Still they stroked, wanting you all over them.
You could feel one of them slow down, but the other kept pace. When one spat again, the other joined in, amassing a sizable glob on your tip and running your palms over your swollen and sensitive tip. They giggled gleefully as you yourself did while trembling.
“Come on, baby boy,” Wonyoung teased, “don’t you miss this?”
“We can take turns deepthroating you, baby boy,” Yuna challenged. “You’re definitely not gonna survive that.”
“God, I wanna fuck this cock so bad,” Wonyoung confessed. “I’ve been thinking about it since a while ago.”
“Me too,” Yuna sighed. “See what you do to us, baby? Make us think about your cock.”
“You need to repay us,” Wonyoung urged. “On our faces.”
“Give it to us,” Yuna moaned.
You moaned, they moaned, and you felt your orgasm spew all over them behind closed eyes and narrowed vision. Spurt after spurt, you emptied all from inside you, until your arms gave way and caused you to slip off the counter. You all sat on the floor, catching your breath, before Yuna stood and dragged you towards Wonyoung’s room.
“Please, baby,” Yuna begged. “Stay with us tonight.”
Wonyoung trailed behind. “Ya, my bed? Seriously?”
“It’s bigger!,” Yuna whined, and Wonyoung resigned with a smile.
“Wait,” Wonyoung groaned, right as Yuna looked kick the door open. “Can we maybe wash up? Especially baby boy over here. I don’t want these sheets smelling like sex and spunk so soon after I’ve replaced them.”
“Wash us up, baby?,” Yuna fluttered her eyes at you, and you obliged with no comment.
All together in a tight fit, your bodies slipped against each other. You let the water run down your skin, rubbing Wonyoung’s back, then Yuna’s. You held their hair in your hands as you planted kisses on their bare shoulders, as they did on you.
Having viewed their bare bodies only under dimmed lights until now, now you truly could appreciate them: their waists and abdomens, firmly toned yet cushioned by soft natural fat; their breasts, petite yet perky; and their faces, now almost bare, with two differently unique iterations of feminine perfection.
You made sure your every kiss, grab, and embrace let them feel that, from under the pouring water to the back-and-forth of wiping them down. And they allowed that affection to happen undisturbed – no touching, no feeling, just patient, muted movement of hands across your chest, your stomach, your hips, washing and wiping you down alongside them.
Everything felt familiar again: the hazy warmth that hovered above your bare skin, the cooling chill that snaked along your sinews, and the comfort of having the company of another – well, two of them. And you all sat in that moment, not quite silent, but calmer than the hormonal storm of earlier.
“Does this mean I’m staying over?,” you asked bashfully. Wonyoung held your hand. “Yes please.”
Compared to Yuna’s, Wonyoung’s room was more earnestly filled and yet even more neatly arranged. Picture frames, booklets and bound notebooks, even some little figurines.
“Tell me who’s the princess again?,” you looked back at Wonyoung, and she rolled her eyes at you. Yuna raised an eyebrow, but you dismissed it.
When you all laid down and tucked in, Yuna was the first to speak.
“I’m sorry to have interrupted your date, Wony,” she sighed.
"Yah, why did you pick Moira, I was going to play Moira!"
"Learn another character you one-trick pony!"
"You learn another one!"
"I am, this is my second, you have to be able to play multiple characters you know?" Sullyoon remarks snidely.
"No I have to maintain my rank! 1-on-1 me for it!"
"No, your rank can’t drop any lower anyways, pick faster."
The mic goes quiet, Sullyoon hears a chair rolling, and into her view comes Noh Yunah.
"Yoona-yah~" The aegyo is immediately deployed. "Can't you let me play Moira?" It was overbearing, a little cringe, but also very cute, and also something Sullyoon was used to.
"Not this round. You can play Moira next round," she responds curtly.
"I want to play this round..." Sullyoon clicks her tongue as Yunah forces herself into Sullyoon's lap, and Moira dies immediately. This time, it is truly PEBCAK rather than skill issue.
"Are you not going to move?"
"No, I'm gonna disturb you!"
"Nothing you do can distract me." But Sullyoon know that's not going to last, in fact, it was precisely what she wanted. She feels Yunah's hand squeeze her thigh needily.
Sigh. What a wonderfully failed bootcamp.
It was supposed to be a "bootcamp", a time for the two of them to hone their Overwatch skills together as '04 friends. They should get along—Yunah was Bae, if she played Overwatch, and Sullyoon was Minju, if she played Overwatch! They got their own private suite and Diamond-tier setups for their Bronze-tier skills. They could bond and talk about shared experiences in their groups and in game. It was perfect, except for one problem:
They both played the same character.
Cue the arguing, the bargaining, the bickering. It was hellish, they couldn't duo together and ended up playing ranked solo, shouting over each other in their respective comms. You need to play someone slightly better than you to improve, so they couldn't even 1-on-1 to improve. Things got to a boiling point.
Then it got physical. Yunah tried to grab at Sullyoon's mouse, not letting her pick Moira, and Sullyoon fought back, grabbing Yunah's wrist.
"Let go!" Sullyoon warns.
"No, you let go, let me play Moira!"
Yunah forces herself into Sullyoon's lap, trying to physically block her from playing. She straddles Sullyoon's, facing her to block her vision as the current Moira player bobs her head to try and get around Yunah. It doesn't work, Yunah can still hear the gameplay behind her, so she does the only thing she can think of in the moment.
Yunah kisses Sullyoon, a firm press on her lips. She sees Sullyoon staring at her as she pulls back, and her own eyes widen at what she has just done. She kissed Minju once before during that pepero game, but that was by accident, nice as it was. This was intentional, and Sullyoon's non-reaction scares her. Eyes boring into her own, Yunah looks down and away, drawn to Sullyoon's lips, they were juicy, firm, she wouldn't mind kissing them again—
"What are you doing?"
"I-I don't know, sorry, I—" Yunah tries to get off Sullyoon, only to find Sullyoon's hands on her hips, holding her in place, when did they get there?
Before she can make another thought Sullyoon's face is suddenly too close to hers, eyes closed, and Sullyoon's kissing her back. Frustration over the arrangement had boiled over into frustration of a different sort, a frustration that at least has a solution, a frustration that can be… Released. As Sullyoon pulls away Yunah is daring, gently sucking on her lower lip and—
"Mmmm..." The low timbre of Sullyoon's voice sends a thrill down Yunah's spine, and Sullyoon dives back in to continue the kiss, hands now more daring, wrapped around Yunah's back, pulling her closer and forcing her to spread her legs more. A hand goes to her neck, and without thinking Yunah tilts her head, leaning into Sullyoon's sweet lips—she couldn't help but stick her tongue out, she had to taste Sullyoon. Her own hands dive into Sullyoon's hair, and Sullyoon's purr of satisfaction rumbles through Yunah.
"Sullyoon—" Yunah's words snap Sullyoon out of it, and the hand around her neck jerks away. No!
"Yoona, call me Yoona."
"Y-Yoona." It's a little weird, using her own name, and it leaves Yunah's lips as a squeak. She takes a deep breath and continues. "Yoona, it's okay, I want this too." She slips a leg between Yoona's legs, allowing herself to sink fully on to a thigh...
"Hnngh..." A soft moan, and Yoona's swallows her heart back into her chest—Yunah's fully soaked through her shorts! Yoona stays still as Yunah goes on the aggressive, placing her hands on Yoona's shoulders as she leans forward, grinding herself against Yoona's thigh. It begins to get messy, the sound of soft squelching and sticky fabric beginning to fill the room. Yoona grips the handrests of her gamer chair hard—she has to move soon, else she's liable to stain the chair herself.
A shiver runs through Yunah when she feels Yoona's hands on her waist, holding her still. She was shockingly close, and Yoona kind of edged her there, but she did not mind as Yoona's husky voice whispers in her ear.
"Do you want to lie down for a bit?"
And that's how Yunah found herself in Yoona's bed for the first time, a gap of eleven days in their birthdays culminating in the space of eleven millimetres separating them right now. Yoona wasn't domineering, but she was firm in what she wanted, a hand locking Yunah's wrists above her head. Yoona isn't sure if that's what Yunah wanted, but she has a feeling that Noh Yunah isn't able to say "No Yoona" right now.
Mostly on account of Yunah tongue twisting around her own.
Despite the inability to move her arms, Yunah makes up for it with movements below the belt, legs twined around one of Yoona's, subtly urging her to push her knee up between her legs. When they finally have to break the kiss their chests are heaving, cheeks flushed in arousal.
"Y-Yoona, I really want it." Yoona finally pushes her knee up into Yunah's gap, and she gasps, throwing her head back. "Oh fuck it's thicker than my pillow!" Yunah flushes red when she realizes what she said. "I-I mean—"
"Yeah? And what do you do with your pillow?" There's a devious grin on Yoona's face, and she slides an actual pillow under Yunah's back, giving her an angle to work with. "Show me."
There's no room for further thought from Yunah—already edged once unintentionally, she begins to grind herself on Yoona, smearing her juicy thigh with Yunah's own slick. Yoona's eyes are glued below, watching the dark spot on Yunah's grey shorts grow and spread. Yunah's breaths get shorter and shorter, her core burning as she tries to rub against Yoona harder and faster.
"Oh god yes!" A hushed gasp of relief, and Yunah arches her back, pressing her core deep against Yoona's thigh as she lets go, pleasure rolling through her body, wrists twitching in Yoona's hold. A strand of hair sticks to her sweaty forehead, and she brushes it away when she realizes that Yoona has let go of her—god she needed that!
When the high drops off Yunah realizes why Yoona has let go—she's fidgeting, hands playing with the knot of her sweatpants, as if eager to get started on herself, but unsure how to bring it up to Yunah that she wants her turn on "Moira".
Except, you know, "Moira" is code for getting off.
So Yunah just has to take the initiative. She reaches for Yoona's sweatpants, and the hands fall away, as if to let Yunah take the lead. She stands up to let the sweatpants fall off her, but to Yoona's surprise, Yunah tells her to keep standing, pulling her panties down to her knees instead. In her sitting position Yunah's right between Yoona's legs, and she leans in, planting a tentative kiss on her mons.
"Ah!" Whatever Yoona had expected from Yunah, it wasn't that.
"Is that okay?"
"I— Yes." Of course. Yunah's just as dizzy as Yoona, smelling the frustration coming from her. She's so close she can taste it, and so Yunah licks, sticking her tongue out tentatively and brushing it against Yoona.
"Ahh oh my god!" Her knees buckle, and only Yunah's strength keeps Yoona from causing an accident, hands on her hips keeping her upright.
"Here." Yunah lies down again, allowing Yoona to fall to her knees, planted on either side of Yunah's ears, allowing her easy and safe access to Yoona's leaking pussy.
"Have you done this before?" Yoona asks as Yunah tilts her head forward, inches away from licking her again.
"Me? Er no..." Just imagined it with— Never mind! She dives in and is rewarded with a sharp gasp from Yoona and a few drops of slick—it is utterly addictive, and Yunah plants her hands on Yoona's hips, forcing her down on her face, making sure she can't squirm away as Yunah has her fill.
"Guhnngh!" Yoona's making unidol-like noises as she's eaten out. Yunah's tongue feels nothing like her own fingers, or toys, or her— "Hmmmm!" Yoona's back is just as curved as Yunah's earlier, hands pressed against the sheets as she leans forward, putting more of her weight on Yunah's mouth. She begins to jerk and twerk, falling to her desires as she grinds on Yunah's face. She's so close, she just needs to rub her clit and— Her fingers find something else, and Yoona grabs at it.
"Mmm!" It is Yunah's turn to moan as she feels Yoona grab her scalp, tilting her head and using her. Without Yoona on top of her, Yunah's face would look pornographic—her tongue sticking out of her mouth, face slack, eyes blank. But alas no, only Yoona gets to feel that expression, feel Yunah's tongue rubbing all over her slit, trying to get that perfect tongue to just flick over her clit... There!
"Ahh yes there, yes there!" Two more violent jerks of Yunah's head against her needy pussy, and that's enough for Yoona to cum, snapping her hips forward and letting herself cover Yunah in squirt. She humps and bounces lightly on Yunah's face, looking for the little jolts of pleasure left in her orgasm as she comes down from her high.
"Nngh Y-Yoona, I can't breathe!" She quickly moves away, and between her violent jerks earlier and the clumsy movement of her knees she's almost knocked out Yunah several times.
"Sorry! Are you okay?" She certainly did not look okay to Yoona—her makeup is running, her face is covered in slick, and her hair is a jumbled mess from where Yoona grabbed her.
"I think so." Yunah moves her head gingerly, her neck's definitely sore, if not suffering from whiplash. She lets herself be pulled into a sitting position, slumping against Yoona.
"Sorry, I was too rough wasn't I?" Yoona pulls on Yunah's soaked shorts and ruined panties, tugging them down. "I'll be gentler."
"No you don't have to—" But what Yoona wants, Yunah gets.
"I want to do this." The hand on Yoona's arm stopping her is soon grabbing it tightly, making sure it can't leave as she slips two fingers into Yunah. Sitting between her legs, Yunah's in the perfect position for Yoona to pretend she's getting herself off, and going by her reactions, Yunah likes what Yoona likes.
She starts with slow thrusts of her fingers, making sure her palm can rub against her clit while her fingers reach deeper into her. Then she alters the angle, planting a thumb on her nub and focusing on it, fingers merely something for her to squeeze around. Yoona swaps between the two, increasing in both speed and strength, just like she would when getting herself off. Yunah realizes belatedly that Yoona said she'll be "gentler", and not "gentle". Yoona's building her up very quickly, but with no strength left in her, she has little say in how Yoona's going to get her off.
"Yoona, no more, I-I might make a mess!" A thrilling buzz goes up Yunah's overstimulated body. Yoona recognizes the signs, feeling her hand suddenly get drenched, and she goes just that little bit faster to help Yunah reach her crescendo.
"It's okay, we have your bed to sleep in."
With a wail Yunah bucks violently, and Yoona pulls out just at the right time, letting her spray lewdly all over the bed. After the first gush Yoona's on her clit immediately, rubbing it determinedly, and all Yunah can do is cry a heavy serenade and squirt some more, letting the slicking of Yoona's fingers in her own pussy fill her head. With a final jerk Yunah snaps her thighs together, trembling against Yoona and completely overstimulated, a bit of drool leaking down her chin.
"Now that's a proper orgasm." As far as Yoona's concerned that's just like the one she had on Yunah's face, and she's satisfied with the outcome.
"Really? I— That's too loud for the dorms."
"Roommate?"
"Thin walls."
"Ah. Hm." Yoona ponders for a little while as she watches Yunah finally sit up, wrecked but glowing in satisfaction. "We should make the most of our time here then." Yoona sidles up to her, wrapping an arm around Yunah’s waist and leaning against her shoulder.
"Huh? Um, what about the bootcamp and stuff?"
"We can play a little, but let's be honest, we both suck." Yunah sighs and nods, she can only agree. "And let's be really honest, you loved that didn't you?" Yunah definitely agrees, sore neck nodding harder.
So when Yunah slips into Sullyoon's lap this time yet again, it's after a few days of Overwatch sessions between sex, rather than sex between Overwatch sessions, and both of them are utterly comfortable with one another. Yunah's straddling her thigh again, hand dancing up her other thigh.
"Can I?" Yunah doesn't wait, the fact that Sullyoon's just wearing a t-shirt and nothing else is answer enough.
"Mm." Sullyoon moans in approval as Yunah deftly slips past her panties. She lets Yunah lead, letting her rock her hips against her own thigh, in rhythm with fingers plunging into her.
"F-Fuck I love your thighs," Yunah confesses, shamelessly grinding on Sullyoon with all her clothes still on—that's just how needy she is, and if anyone were to ask “Who’s your bias?” Sullyoon’s definitely her bias now.
"Don't forget about me." Yunah makes sure to plug Sullyoon with her fingers, a rush of wetness welcoming her in. They cuff each other by the neck, pressed forehead to forehead, pussy to thigh, fingers to pussy—they're going to cum together, screaming as loud as they want. Yunah begins to whine, growing higher in pitch as she begins to ride Sullyoon harder. Sullyoon's moans begin to crack and rise to a whistle too, jaw hanging open as the bootcamp has already improved Yunah’s skills in getting Sullyoon off.
"Yunah yes yes yes!" "Yoona, oh god Yoona!"
Crying out the same name they cum together, the sudden rush of slick over Sullyoon's thigh triggering her own squirting climax over Yunah's fingers, the gamer chair suddenly dripping and the floor pooling with their combined juices. Yunah's slumped against Sullyoon's shoulder, and she weakly hugs her friend with both arms, smearing Sullyoon's juices all over her t-shirt, not that she minded.
"So good, so so good..." Sullyoon mumbles into Yunah's neck, sighing in satisfaction. On the desk Sullyoon sees her phone light up, a reminder from her manager that the bootcamp ends tomorrow, and she hugs Yunah a little tighter.
Yunah has other thoughts on her mind.
"Yoona?"
"Hmm?"
"Have you ever played LoL?"
A/N: Initially had an idea for Bae/Sullyoon/Minju/Yunah, and to call it 404z (with apologies to Moka), but that was too much work for now. But a Sullyoon/Yunah idea then took over because their names are the same in Korean, and then I found out they both play Overwatch, and somehow they both play Moira, and their birthdays are close too, and it's like destiny! Yunah's definitely the hidden aegyo type and Sullyoon's the type to accept it like she does with Bae's hyperness, so it works in my head. Anyways I might revisit the 404 idea eventually, I like that Bae/Sullyoon kinda mirrors Yunah/Minju a little, one more outgoing and one more quiet. But eh the pronouns get so messy with just two idols, 4 is gonna be worse, we'll see.
I had a few title candidates as well, from Re-Yunification to Yu(oo)nification to "Fucking over Overwatch", because they're fucking instead of playing overwatch XD
Anyways thanks for reading, it was fun working in some puns with Yunah/Yoona, hope it isn't too confusing!
“Alright, everyone! Bring it in!” You watch as the young women stop their play and walk over to you, their bodies glistening with sweat. “Take a knee.” Your players drip with sweat as they get on one knee. “Okay, y’all have put in good work today. In a couple of days, we’ll be playing a little show match against our university's faculty before we head to the championship. Again, it’s a show match, just have fun. We’ll get back to business after that. Now go take a shower, you all stink.”
The girls chuckle at the comment, “I think that’s you, Coach.”
“I think the one that needs a shower is you,” your star player, Tzuyu, says, earning laughs from the others.
“You’re one to talk,” the rest pile on, jokingly insulting you, adding their own comments as they walk to the locker room. You raise your arms over your head, stretching before you begin taking down all the volleyball nets. While you missed seeing your star in what was basically a bikini during practice, you were still happy to trade that out for an air-conditioned practice area, considering the deadly heat wave that was going on. Your first order of business was taking down the nets, a process you had down to a T at this point. Each court went down piece by piece. You were nearly finished putting down the nets when you heard a voice from the other side of the gymnasium.
“Daddy!” You turn to see your star player walking over to you, having switched into the team’s beach uniform. Tzuyu strides toward you, her long and solid legs striking you the same way as always. “It’s time for my special lesson,” she giggles.
“I’m almost done, baby, I just have to finish taking down the rest of these.” Tzuyu pouts; the young woman wanted to start her special training already.
“But, Daddy, I need you right now!” You sigh. It was always hard to resist Tzuyu, especially when she was wearing her uniform. What made it worse was that she knew exactly how to play you. She stepped closer, pressing her body against yours. “Please, Daddy? I promise it won’t take too long.” You both knew it was a lie, but as Tzuyu placed your hands on her perfectly round cheeks, it was tougher and tougher to say no to her. “Please?” She asks again softly.
“Alright, baby,” Tzuyu smiles softly and presses her lips against yours. Your kiss deepens, your tongue explores her mouth, and vice versa. You squeeze her firm yet soft cheeks until they overflow between your fingers. It draws a moan out from Tzuyu. “Are the doors locked?”
“Mhmm,” she hums.
“And you made sure everyone was gone?”
“Yes, Daddy. I made sure everyone was gone.” Tzuyu moans, your hands kneading her flesh. Tzuyu cranes her neck, something that you immediately target, nipping at it. “Yes, Daddy, yes,” she moans softly. Her hand finds your crotch, rubbing it through your pants. “Where do you want to do it, here? Or do you want to get me nice and wet in the shower?”
“The shower. It’ll save us time.” Tzuyu grabs your hand and runs toward the showers, dragging you into the locker room. At the very least, with her leading the way, you can stare at her full and shapely rear bouncing with each hurried step she takes. There was something about her in that uniform bottom that made her ass look so much better to you. It was a shame that Tzuyu removed it so quickly once you were both in the shower. The young woman stripped you down, too.
“I was watching you the entire session,” she admits. “Daddy, it’s so hard being around you, knowing you're staring at me anytime you get the chance. You push Tzuyu back against the cold tile of one of the shower stalls. Her breathing staggers, “It’s hard hiding how wet I am, you better take responsibility.”
“I will,” you reply, turning on the water and holding her waist. Your hand slips down to Tzuyu’s ass, gripping it tightly. “It’s hard not to stare at this delicious peach you have.” You make Tzuyu blush. As water falls over you, she escapes your grasp, turning around out of shyness. You grab her again, this time slipping your cock between her powerful legs, letting it rub against her slit. “Is this you telling me what you want?”
Tzuyu moans softly, your hot length sliding perfectly between her thighs. She looks down, seeing the tip poke out from between her legs. “M-maybe. I just want Daddy to put it in,”
As the water continues to cascade down your bodies, you slip yourself inside Tzuyu. The star of the team moans softly. Her lip quivers as she feels you sliding deeper, striking her core with your length. Your hands grip and slide along her side, grabbing at her modest mounds, fingers flicking her nipples. Tzuyu presses herself against you, her shapely rear pushing back against your crotch as she reaches back and over her head, trying to caress your face. “Deeper, Daddy, I want it deeper.”
“You’re such a needy girl, Tzuyu.”
“Mmm, it’s because I love Daddy’s cock so much.”
You pinch both of her hard nubs between your thumb and index finger, making her whimper. “Daddy loves your pussy, baby.”
“Really?” Tzuyu asks, the words making her smile from ear to ear.
“It’s always so tight and hungry.” Her walls were like a vice around you; you could tell the young woman was flexing her muscles. You push yourself deeper, plunging every inch into Tzuyu. She cries out, finally having your whole cock inside her needy cunt. “Bend over for me, Tzuyu.” The young woman follows your orders, bending over with her hands pressed against the cold tiles of the shower stall. You hold onto her tiny waist, driving your cock into her again and again. Tzuyu pushed herself back after each thrust, craving more. The young woman’s sex drive could be insatiable at times. You were thankful for that, though, it meant you had someone who would do anything to please you and keep going. It was just as good that her body was incredibly sensitive.
Your hand sneaking down to play with her clit was making her lose control. Her rhythm became out of sync with yours, not that either of you minded. You were both moving as quickly as you could. “More, Daddy, more! I want Daddy to destroy my pussy!” She mumbled, her body beginning to twitch as her orgasm quickly approached. The more you rubbed the sensitive nub between her legs, the more her body raced toward her climax. Tzuyu’s legs tensed up first, becoming stiff as you slammed your hips into her firm ass. The young woman was staring at the floor, biting her bottom lip as she tried to hold back her climax.
“Cum for Daddy,” you tell the young woman, spanking her left cheek. The sting from the hit is enough to send her over the edge. Tzuyu lets out an ear-piercing cry as she cums, her walls fluttering around your cock as it attempts to milk you. You were nearly there. You thrust faster, stumbling forward until you had Tzuyu's body trapped between you and the cold tiles. You held her waist tightly as you impaled the young woman on your cock, getting yourself as close to her womb as you could before you came inside her.
“It’s so warm,” Tzuyu mumbles, her head spinning as your thick semen pours into her, painting her walls white as it floods her womb. “Am I gonna be a mommy?” Tzuyu mumbles, having forgotten she was on the pill. You keep yourself buried inside of Tzuyu, her walls continuing to milk you. Once your cock stops throbbing inside the young woman, you begin to pull out, only to have Tzuyu stop you. “No, not yet, Daddy.” She says through deep breaths. “I don’t want to stop yet.”
“We’re not going to stop yet, baby.” You tell Tzuyu, kissing the back of her tanned neck. “We’re only switching positions.” You move your hands down along her body, stopping at her thick thighs. “You’re going to use these to ride me until you can’t anymore. You can have as much cum as you want.”
Tzuyu turns her head, “Really? I can really have as much as I want, Daddy?” You nod your head, and only then does Tzuyu allow you to pull out.
You turn off the shower and lead Tzuyu to the locker room, laying down a few towels for your comfort. As you lie on the floor, Tzuyu quickly straddles your lap for a second, her hand is around your cock, pointing it right at her entrance. She rises slowly, squatting above it before lowering herself. Tzuyu purses her lips, enjoying as you push her walls apart once more. You keep your hands on her waist, keeping her steady as she begins bouncing herself on your length. “Oh, Daddy,” Tzuyu has her hands on your sides to support herself. It was a workout for the young woman, her favorite workout in the world. There was a reason her thighs were so big; she had developed a lot of good muscle bouncing on your cock like this. Even as she came again, Tzuyu would keep moving, your nectar-coated cock allowing her to slide up and down your pole even easier than before.
You watch Tzuyu's expression change as she rides you, going from a bright smile to a sensual lip bite until she has the face of a slut, feeling absolute bliss, her jaw drops, and moans spill from her lips. You spank her ass, “Keep moving, baby. Take all of Daddy's cock,” you tell her.
“Yes, Daddy,” she moans. You lie back and enjoy the experience, her tight walls smother your cock as her perky tits bounce in front of you. You couldn’t ask for more from this young woman. At least, not at the moment, her tits were hypnotizing you. You lean up and take one into your mouth, gently biting the soft mound as Tzuyu’s legs burn from her exercise. “D-daddy, I don’t know how much longer I can keep going,”
“Are you saying my best star isn’t going to get even one more creampie?”
Tzuyu shakes her head, refocusing her energy, “I-I’ll get it,” she whines. Tzuyu lingers on top of you every time she comes down. It makes you smile, as much as she wanted your cum she had already gone through a rigorous workout with the team.
“Let Daddy help you.” You place your hands back on Tzuyu’s waist and help her move along your shaft. You can’t help yourself, though, and one hand moves to her ass, squeezing the soft, shapely piece of flesh as you begin to thrust. Tzuyu can’t hold her position any longer and comes down onto her knees, straddling you now. She leans down into a kiss as you begin to take over, ramming your throbbing cock into her core.
Tzuyu moans into the kiss, soft whimpers joining as she begs for you to cum inside her again. “I want Daddy’s cum. Please, Daddy? I’ll be a good girl and stay at your place tonight. You can sleep with your big, juicy dick buried inside me.” Never mind that she had planned to stay with you tonight, Tzuyu was using this as a tactic to get you to fill her.
“Shut up and take it already,” you mumble, pulling her against your crotch while you kiss her, the head of your cock kissing her womb as you fill Tzuyu again. Tzuyu wraps her arms around you as she takes in every drop, getting drunk off the feeling of being so full of your cum. You let her curl up on your chest. You wish you could enjoy the moment more, but you knew you still had to finish packing away the equipment.
NOTE: My FINAL work for this year and…. forever lol. Hope yall enjoy my short return.
For my Fanprose account, this is the 30th smut entry of my Smutrathon Special, replacing Hanni's "The Green Underworld" while here in Tumblr, this is just a quick smut one-shot work without being included to any anthology or series of mine.
This is based btw to that deleted TWICE smut I've read from Wattpad which I actually really liked.
DESCRIPTION: Driven by a fierce desire to win a scout competition's rank upgrade and a bonus tropical vacation prize, Jihyo uses a seductive sales menu to tempt a lonely married man into buying out her entire inventory in exchange for her exclusive sexual services he would find impossible to resist.
WORD COUNT: 3527
=== START ===
The late afternoon sun was baking the asphalt of your quiet suburban neighborhood, waves of heat radiating off the pavement. Jihyo barely noticed the stifling humidity. Her posture was rigid, her knuckles white where she gripped the aluminum handle of her heavy plastic wagon.
Her intense, dark eyes were locked onto the digital leaderboard glowing on her smartphone screen, which was clipped neatly to the top of a wooden clipboard.
Her name was currently sitting in second place.
For the average college student, a volunteer drive for a community organization was just a bullet point to pad a resume. But Jihyo wasn’t average. She didn't enter competitions to place; she entered them to dominate. This afternoon, the regional council had upped the stakes entirely, sending out an emergency broadcast to all members: the scout who brought in the single highest sales volume by midnight would be granted an immediate rank promotion to regional coordinator, alongside a fully sponsored, two-week luxury vacation to a tropical resort.
Jihyo could already feel the cool ocean breeze and taste the cocktails, but a rival scout from the neighboring chapter was currently fifty boxes ahead of her, stubbornly holding the top spot.
Her fierce, unyielding competitive streak didn’t just flame; it roared into an absolute wildfire. She looked down at her inventory. The wagon was loaded to the brim with premium, organization-branded goods: artisanal cookie boxes, heavy containers of organic rolled-oat cereal, and glass bottles of fresh, chilled whole milk from the valley dairy drive.
Traditional door-to-door pitches, polite smiles, and asking for neighborly charity weren't going to bridge a fifty-box deficit in a single evening. If she wanted that tropical beach, she needed a radical, completely unorthodox strategy.
Stopping under the shade of a large oak tree on the sidewalk, Jihyo took a deep breath and smoothed down her uniform. The pleated green skirt was already tailored a little shorter than regulation, hugging the tight curve of her thighs. With a steady hand and a calculating smile, she reached up and deliberately unbuttoned the top two buttons of her crisp white collared shirt. She shrugged the fabric back slightly, exposing the smooth, sun-kissed line of her collarbone and the soft, inviting swell of her breasts.
She knew exactly what her most devastating, darkest secret asset was: she possessed an intoxicating, magnetic allure that men found impossible to resist, and she was entirely prepared to weaponize it.
Her eyes swept across the manicured lawns of the cul-de-sac, landing directly on your well-maintained two-story home. Just moments prior, she had watched from a distance as a woman—your wife—loaded a large rolling suitcase into the trunk of her car, exchanged a brief wave toward the front door, and drove away out of the neighborhood. Jihyo glanced toward your driveway. Your sedan was still parked under the carport.
You were home. Completely alone.
Jihyo’s lips curled into a sharp, victorious smile as her resolve hardened. She gripped the wagon handle and began wheeling her heavy cargo up your concrete driveway, ready to present an offer that no red-blooded man could ever turn down.
Inside the house, you let out a heavy, exhausted sigh, rubbing the stiff muscles at the back of your neck. Your wife had just left for a three-day weekend professional conference out of town, and she had left you with a dauntingly long list of household chores, grocery runs, and repair tasks to tackle in her absence. The quiet of the house was almost absolute, broken only by the low hum of the air conditioning.
Suddenly, the sharp chime of the front doorbell echoed through the entryway.
Groaning slightly, you stood up from the couch and made your way to the foyer. You weren't expecting any deliveries, and you certainly weren't in the mood for neighborhood small talk. You unlocked the deadbolt and swung the heavy wooden door open, expecting a mail carrier.
Instead, your eyes locked onto a stunning, ethereal college student standing on your welcome mat. She was breathtaking. She had a bright, dazzling smile, large, expressive eyes that seemed to read you instantly, and a green scout sash draped diagonally across a uniform that was doing absolutely nothing to hide her incredible busty figure.
"Hi there! Good afternoon," Jihyo said, her voice dropping into a sweet, perfectly practiced, melodic rhythm. "I'm Jihyo, and I'm representing the local college scout chapter. We're running our final annual drive to fund our youth community projects. Would you be interested in supporting our cause today?"
You leaned your forearm against the edge of the doorframe, offering her a polite but tired smile, trying your best to keep your eyes firmly on her face rather than the deep, distracting plunge of her unbuttoned shirt. "Oh, wow. Uniform and everything. Look, Jihyo, I appreciate the hustle and it's a great cause, but my wife usually handles all of our grocery shopping and pantry stocking. We're actually pretty set on snacks right now."
"I see," Jihyo murmured, her smile shifting from wholesome fundraiser to something far more predatory and intoxicating. She took a deliberate step forward, crossing your threshold and closing the distance between you until you could smell the faint scent of vanilla and sweat on her skin. The innocent scout demeanor completely evaporated, replaced by a heavy, unblinking gaze that locked tightly onto yours. "But you see, I offer a very special, highly exclusive tier of customer service for my premium buyers."
You blinked, your throat tightening as the atmosphere in the hallway suddenly shifted from a mundane neighborhood interaction to something thick with tension. "Customer service?"
Jihyo let her heavy clipboard rest against the curve of her hip, tilting her head to the side as she tracked your reaction. "I am an incredibly competitive girl. I absolutely must win this sales drive by tonight. And because I'm determined, I'm willing to make a very private bargain. A special menu, if you will… customized just for you, especially while your house is so nice and quiet."
Your breath hitched sharply in your chest. Your mind raced, suddenly acutely aware of the empty house behind you and the quiet street behind her. You looked past her shoulder toward the empty driveway, then back to the intense, burning desire radiating from the girl standing right in your doorway. "What kind of menu are we talking about?"
Jihyo leaned in even closer, her voice dropping to a sultry, confidential whisper that sent a violent shiver of anticipation straight down your spine.
"It's very simple," she purred, her eyes scanning your face. "Buy one box of our premium cookies, and I'll give you a blowjob right here on your knees in the hallway. Buy a box of our organic cereal, and you get to return the favor—oral sex for me, until I am completely satisfied. Buy a bottle of our fresh milk, and you get a chance to take your time, opening my shirt wide open to suck and play with my breasts. And if you decide to hoard the entire wagon? You get to keep me here, having sex with me as much as you can handle for the rest of the afternoon."
Your throat went completely dry, your heart hammering like a trapped bird against your ribs. It was utterly insane. It was a complete betrayal of your marital vows. But looking at Jihyo—the perfect, full curve of her pink lips, the way her short skirt hugged the flare of her hips, and the absolute, unadulterated confidence radiating from her—the temptation was a physical weight crushing your resolve. Your wife wouldn't be back until later in evening. The neighbors were indoors. No one would ever know.
"One box of cookies," you croaked, your voice thick and completely rough with sudden, undeniable arousal. "To start."
Jihyo’s smile widened into a beautiful, victorious grin. She had you hooked. "A wonderful choice, sir. That will be fifteen dollars."
You reached into your back pocket with trembling fingers, pulling out your wallet and throwing a twenty-dollar bill at her, not even caring about the change. Jihyo stepped fully into your house, reaching back to close the heavy wooden door with a solid, definitive click, effectively shutting out the rest of the world and locking the two of you in a private haven.
She set her clipboard down on your entryway table and unbuckled her scout sash, letting it slide carelessly to the hardwood floor. Without a single hint of hesitation or shyness, she dropped down onto her knees directly in front of you.
You stood transfixed, your breath shallow as Jihyo reached up with both hands, her warm, deft fingers undoing your belt buckle. She slipped the leather strap free, unbuttoned your pants, and lowered your zipper with agonizing slowness. The moment her fingers slipped inside your underwear and freed your fully hardened, aching cock into the cool air of the hallway, you let out a low, ragged groan, your hands instinctively hovering over her shoulders.
Jihyo looked up at you through her thick lashes, a playful, wicked spark of dominance in her eyes, before she leaned forward. Her warm lips parted, tasting the very tip of you first. She swirled her wet tongue slowly around the sensitive crown, listening to the way your thighs trembled under her touch. Then, with a smooth, deliberate motion, she slid her mouth all the way down your shaft.
The sensation was absolutely electric. She used one hand to firmly grip and caress the base of your length, pushing it deeper into her throat while her mouth worked with a rhythmic, suffocating heat. You gripped her shoulders tightly, your knuckles turning white as you stared down at this stunning college scout giving you the most incredible, intense oral pleasure you had ever experienced. She sucked tightly, bobbing her head in a steady rhythm, intentionally making wet, messy, uninhibited sounds that echoed loudly off the walls of your quiet hallway.
Just as you felt the intense pressure building in your lower stomach, reaching the absolute point of no return, Jihyo expertly and suddenly pulled back. She swiped a thumb across her glistening lower lip, looking up at your dazed, panting expression with a smug, beautiful smirk.
"That was just the appetizer," she purred smoothly, standing up and gracefully smoothing down the pleats of her green skirt. "What’s next on the menu?"
You were completely breathless, your chest heaving as your body screamed for the completion she had just cruelly denied you. You couldn't let her leave like this. "The cereal. And the milk. Both of them."
"A very healthy breakfast choice," Jihyo teased, her voice dripping with playful mockery. "That will be twenty dollars."
You blindly reached for your wallet again, your hands shaking as you pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and tossed them onto the entryway table next to her clipboard.
Jihyo smiled, taking you firmly by the hand and leading you away from the front door, deeper into the privacy of your living room. Instead of heading for the couch, she walked straight over to your sturdy wooden dining table. With an agile, effortless movement, she hopped up onto the polished edge, pulling her green skirt all the way up to her waist.
Your eyes widened. She wasn't wearing traditional undergarments; instead, a tiny pair of sheer lace panties met your gaze, barely covering her soft, manicured center. She slid them slowly down the length of her long, toned legs, tossing them carelessly onto a nearby chair, before parting her thighs wide open for you.
"Your turn to please me," she whispered, her eyes dark with rising heat.
You didn't need to be told twice. Driven by pure instinct, you dropped to your knees between her parted legs, burying your face directly into her dripping cunt.
Jihyo gasped sharply, her fingers immediately locking tightly into your hair as your tongue found her highly sensitive, swollen core. She tasted incredibly sweet, and she was already deeply slick with her own arousal. You stroked her with long, wet, purposeful laps of your tongue, listening to the breathless, high-pitched whimpers that began to escape her throat.
Her hips began to buck helplessly against your face as you accelerated the pace, your tongue mimicking the hard, localized friction she so desperately craved. Jihyo’s toes curled tightly, her inner thighs clamping around the sides of your head as a sudden, violently intense orgasm rocked through her entire body. She arched her back off the table, letting out a loud, completely uninhibited cry of pure pleasure that echoed off your high ceilings.
As her frantic breathing gradually began to slow, she looked down at you, her chest heaving heavily. With a sultry, inviting grin, she reached up to the remaining buttons of her white shirt, popping them open one by one until the fabric fell away, revealing a lace black bra. She reached between her breasts, unclipping the front clasp and letting her full, heavy, perky breasts swing free into the open air. Her nipples were completely taut, caramel, and flushed from the aftershocks of her climax.
"The milk," she reminded you, her voice a breathless, demanding whisper. “It’ll taste better with the cereal, you should try.”
You leaned up from your knees, wrapping your arms around her waist as you threw a handful of cereal oats to your mouth before you took one turgid, aching nipple entirely into your mouth. You sucked greedily, swirling your tongue hard around the sensitive, bumpy areola as you felt her milk filling your cereal-filled mouth while your free hands cupped, lifted, and heavily kneaded the soft, responsive flesh of her other breast spilling some of her sweet dairy in between your fingers.
"You're right, it's way more delicious." Jihyo whimpered loudly, leaning back on her hands on the table, completely surrendering to the sensation. She guided the back of your head, groaning deeply as you bit gently at the very tips of her nipples, sending frantic sparks of electricity straight back down to her core.
But you were reaching your absolute breaking point. You were fully erect, throbbing, and this agonizingly slow teasing was driving your mind into a frenzy. You pulled your mouth away from her breast, swallowed the breastmilked-flavored cereal before looking up at her with dark, primal, unchecked desire.
"The whole wagon," you said, your voice a raspy, commanding growl that left no room for negotiation. "Fuck it. I want every single thing you have brought. How much for everything?"
Jihyo’s eyes flashed with an absolute, dazzling spark of triumph. She had broken you completely; she had you exactly where she wanted you. "For the rest of the stock? A hundred dollars. And I’m entirely yours for the rest of the afternoon."
You didn't even hesitate for a microsecond. You stood up, walking over to the large decorative ceramic bowl on your kitchen counter where you always kept an emergency stash of household cash. You reached in and pulled out a thick, crisp stack of hundred-dollar bills. Marching back over to the dining table, you pressed the cold cash directly into her open palm.
Jihyo counted the five bills with lightning-fast precision, a genuine thrill of victory running down her spine. The competition was definitively hers. The rank was hers. The tropical vacation was hers.
She carelessly tossed the money onto the clipboard on the entryway table and turned back to you, wrapping her long legs tightly around your waist, pulling her slick, dripping core flush against your aching pants. "Then let's not waste another second."
You lifted her sexy, voluptuous frame up off the table with ease, carrying her over to your large, plush leather living room sofa. You laid her down against the cushions, hovering directly over her as you aligned your aching length with her heat. The moment you guided yourself in and pushed deep inside her, Jihyo let out a sharp, ragged gasp, her eyes widening at the sheer fullness of yourcock stretching her open.
The rest of the afternoon dissolved into a complete, chaotic blur of raw, sweaty heat and intense physical friction. You moved with a desperate, hungry, unbridled pace, fueled by the highly forbidden nature of the act and Jihyo's intoxicating, uninhibited energy.
Jihyo met you stroke for stroke, her manicured nails clawing desperate red lines down your back, her voice filling your empty, hollow house with loud, unvarnished moans of pure pleasure.
You changed positions frantically, pounding her in the center of the living room as both continuously search for deeper satisfaction. You flipped her over, sitting back as she climbed on top of you, controlling the depth, looking down at you like a dominant goddess claiming her rightful prize.
Then, you rolled her onto her hands and knees, driving into her heavily from behind, reaching forward to pull her hair gently to tilt her head back so you could help her watch her expressions and her tits being mashed by your other hand in the living room mirror.
The sofa was then fully occupied with your bodies stacked together, hers aligned in reverse to yours as you ate each other out for a classic 69, then Jihyo sat at your lap, plunging deep into her again as you bounced her rotated naked body onto your cock in reverse cowgirl.
You both rode the waves of intense, breathless pleasure over and over again, completely losing all track of time as the bright afternoon sun slowly dipped below the horizon, casting long, dramatic golden shadows across the room. Finally, with one last, desperate, deeply penetrating surge, you cried out at your last orgasm, your entire body seizing up as you collapsed against her damp back, completely filling here with your cum as you spent every last drop of your energy, thoroughly exhausted and deeply satisfied.
An hour later, the sharp click of your front door opening and shutting broke the silence of the house.
Jihyo stepped out onto your concrete front porch, looking completely immaculate and put together once more like as if nothing chaotic just happened. Her green uniform skirt was neatly straightened, her white shirt was perfectly buttoned up to the collar, her sash was aligned, and her long hair was tied back up into a neat, professional ponytail, although with some strand sticking out due to the aggressiveness of your tugging earlier.
The only difference now was the incredibly heavy envelope of cash tucked securely inside her scout canvas bag, and the completely empty plastic wagon sitting idly on your sidewalk.
Inside the house, you lay stretched out flat on your back across the sofa, thoroughly satisfied, physically drained, and staring blankly up at the ceiling with a lazy, content smile plastered across your face. You had a living room full of unwanted cookie boxes and organic cereal to frantically hide before your wife’s return in a few days, but in that exact moment, you didn't care in the slightest. It had been worth every single dollar in that bowl.
"Call me if you'd like to buy again. I'll be your personal retailer from now on. Thanks again for these, daddy." You pushed the contact card she gave you just before she left your household into your pocket.
Jihyo pulled her empty wagon down your concrete driveway, the plastic wheels clicking rhythmically and loudly against the seams. She pulled out her phone, checking the digital leaderboard one last time as she typed in her massive, newly acquired sales totals.
The graph updated instantaneously, shooting her name straight past her rival by an insurmountable margin, solidifying a dominant lead that no one could possibly hope to catch up to before the midnight deadline.
She smiled broadly to herself, basking in the fading warmth of the evening sun. She had won her rank promotion, she had won her dream vacation, and she had proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that a true scout always knows exactly how to utilize her resources to get exactly what she wants.
Being a successful businesswoman meant that people tended to do what Momo wanted. That was one of the good parts of her life, one of the best actually. Everything became even easier for her when she paid for things, because money is the universal language. It’s what makes the world go round and gets things done. That’s how she’d decided that she needed a good fuck that day and had simply hired someone for that, nothing more, nothing less.
Momo contacted the agency that usually provided her with people for those purposes, and simply asked for the person with the biggest cock available at that moment. No other requirements, just a big, juicy cock for her. Momo was assured that her wishes would be fulfilled, which she happily confirmed when the person they sent fucked her for the first time that night.
Now Momo was sitting on the sofa in the spacious living room of her home, wearing only a leopard-print satin robe. In one hand she held a cocktail, a cherry vodka, while the other caressed her crotch. Her head was tilted back, her eyes closed, and a playful expression on her face as her tongue played with the balls of the gigolo she’d hired as if they were the cherries in her cocktail.
She’d asked for someone with a big cock, and that’s exactly what she’d gotten. Caleb was a stocky guy, in his early twenties, with skin as dark as chocolate, and quite tall. Much taller than Momo, at least. It was obvious that because of his line of work, Caleb had to take care of his appearance, so you could tell at a glance that he spent several hours a day at the gym. His shoulders were broad, his biceps thick and defined. His pecs were well-defined and hard. But not only that, his abs were also totally defined, to the point that they’d already given Momo an orgasm earlier when she rode the guy’s stomach. In short, Caleb was a full-fledged Adonis, and for Momo, the best part of his appearance was what hung between his legs.
Caleb had the thickest and juiciest cock Momo had ever seen in her life, even bigger than some of her most obscene toys. At that moment, the massive member covered most of Momo’s face, and she kept wrapping her tongue around Caleb’s balls as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The only thing that seemed to matter to the businesswoman at that moment was not spilling her cocktail while she continued to masturbate, and now she moved on to sucking Caleb’s balls.
With a loud pop! Caleb’s left ball popped out of Momo’s mouth, and she now began kissing and giving hickies to the cock resting on her face. She could feel the weight of the thick member on her face, and she could even still smell and taste her own fluids from when he’d fucked her earlier. The scent of her pussy was all over the guy’s cock.
Momo pulled her face away from the cock and sat up to gulp down the rest of her cocktail. She then put the fingers she’d been using to masturbate into her mouth and sucked on them while turning to look at Caleb with a lewd expression on her face, as if warning him she’d do the same to his cock. But in reality, Momo had already sucked his cock quite a bit that night, and to his surprise, she had taken the whole thing into her mouth. Something none of her clients had been able to do until now.
“It’s time for the next round, and you still have one more hole to stick your cock in.” The truth was, they’d been fucking nonstop since Caleb arrived at Momo’s house. In the bedroom, on the kitchen island, next to the front door, and even against the huge window overlooking the balcony. By this point, Caleb had already cum copiously inside Momo’s pussy and mouth several times, but as she said, they hadn’t tried anal sex yet.
Obediently, Caleb walked around the sofa to where Momo was, who knelt on the floor, resting her chest on the sofa and lifting her butt a little. “If you try to stick your dick in without preparing me first, I’ll kill you.” With that, Momo tossed him a bottle of baby oil and rested her head on her crossed arms, as if she were about to take a nap.
“Are you sure you can take me?” Even though he had to do whatever they asked of him, obviously within certain limits, Caleb’s concern was genuine. His cock was long and thick, and although Momo had already proven she could handle it, having it in her ass was a different story.
“Just prep me well and put a lot of lube on me. You’ll see it’s not my first time using my ass.” Momo herself had put some pretty big toys in her ass, but never anything the size of Caleb’s cock. Anyway, she was confident that with a good prep, she could take the full length of that member.
In the position Momo was in, the robe covered her almost completely. The garment draped over the curves of her body, covering her down to mid-thigh, so Caleb had to lift it to reveal one of the most beautiful and perfect asses he’d ever seen in his entire life. Given his “profession,” Caleb had seen a great many asses, so that wasn’t something he said lightly. But the truth was that he rarely came across a client with the body of a supermodel and the sexual appetite of a hooker, so he really didn’t have much to compare it to.
Momo’s ass was plump and shapely. Round and big, but you could tell that its size and shape weren’t just due to exercise because it was clear that genetics had also blessed Momo greatly. But despite its flawless appearance, both buttocks were different. The left one was a little rounder and firmer, while the right one drooped slightly, making the ass look asymmetrical. But somehow, far from being a flaw, that was something that reminded you that Momo was human and not a succubus straight out of your dreams, sent to devour you.
But Momo’s wonders weren’t limited to her butt. Her thighs were fleshy yet strong, looking athletic and perfectly shaped to support her butt. Perhaps nestled between them was one of Momo’s best features: her pussy. It was still wet after having been fucked several times by Caleb. Her labia minora protruded slightly from the labia majora, revealing the entrance to her pussy where Momo’s juices were still visible.
Caleb spread Momo’s butt cheeks, finally revealing the wrinkled entrance to her ass. With both hands, he pulled her cheeks apart and admired the tiny sphincter he had to prepare to receive his thick cock. At first glance, it seemed like an impossible task, so he would have to use more than just the lube she’d provided.
Of course, Caleb was well-versed in the arts of lovemaking; it was a fundamental requirement in his line of work, so eating ass was just another day at the office for him. He brought his mouth close to the small opening, sniffing a mixture of expensive perfume and the scent of sex and sweat. When Caleb’s tongue landed on Momo’s ass, he was finally able to taste that private area and, frankly, found it delicious. The taste invading his taste buds was salty from the sweat, but at the same time, Momo’s ass had an inexplicable sweetness that enhanced its flavor. The mixture of smells and tastes was somewhat intoxicating, and soon Caleb found himself practically devouring Momo’s ass.
He had started slowly, just licking and circling his tongue around her anus, but now it was as if Caleb were passionately kissing Momo’s ass. She did nothing but moan and clench her anus to tempt the prostitute, who was becoming increasingly absorbed in the task entrusted to him. Caleb not only licked but also pressed his tongue against the small opening until he managed to get it to open for him. Instantly, he thrust his tongue as deep as he could into Momo’s ass.
In perhaps the most obscene act he had performed that night, which was saying quite a lot, Caleb caressed the walls of Momo’s rectum with his tongue. It seemed as if the two of them were connected, forming an obscene and perverted creature born solely to experience pleasure. Momo gasped as loudly as she could, eyes closed and mouth wide open, while Caleb thrust his tongue as deep as humanly possible. If this was what he was doing with his tongue, Momo couldn’t wait to see how Caleb’s cock would fill her ass, thoughts that had her pussy soaking wet again.
Releasing the buttocks he’d been holding in his hands, Caleb began to explore Momo’s body. Caressing her hips, kneading her thighs, and even stroking her back, Caleb’s hands roamed over Momo’s burning body but never touched her pussy again. Caleb could feel the heat radiating from her cunt, and without looking, he knew it was throbbing, but he was too absorbed in eating Momo’s ass to worry about a hole he’d already enjoyed. Incredibly, eating Momo’s ass had turned out to be more pleasurable for him than eating her pussy. But in reality, his enjoyment here mattered little or not at all.
“I need something bigger.” Although the pleasure was intense, Momo needed more; a tongue in her ass was far from everything she wanted, she demanded more. Even though the urge was to shove his cock in there, Caleb knew it wasn’t time yet, that he had to prepare Momo better if he didn’t want to hurt her.
Somewhat reluctantly, Caleb pulled away from the delicious ass in front of him to grab the bottle of oil and pour a generous amount over Momo. Not directly onto her anus, but onto the upper part of her butt, from where he began to spread it all over her ass. Applying more when necessary, Caleb made sure Momo’s ass was shiny and well-lubricated all over, but the best part was when he dipped his ring finger into the viscous liquid and, in a single motion, shoved it into Momo’s ass.
If Momo was already panting before, now she began to moan. It was true that her ass was already somewhat accustomed to that kind of intrusion because Momo was no stranger to anal sex, but Caleb shoved his finger all the way in without warning or any preparation other than having eaten her ass. Her pussy and her anus throbbed at the same time, one clenching around nothing and the other around the intruding finger. But Caleb didn’t stop there; if he wanted to stick his cock in that beautiful hole, he still had work to do.
Momo’s anus made an obscene noise when Caleb pulled his finger out almost completely and then shoved it back in with a thrust. Momo didn’t protest but simply moaned and moved her ass suggestively, making her buttocks tremble in a delicious way. So Caleb began to fuck Momo’s ass with a single thick, relentless finger. A silent promise of what it would be like to have his cock in that very same hole.
The businesswoman demonstrated great control over her sphincter, relaxing it at will so Caleb could push his finger as deep as possible. It soon became clear that she had already gotten used to it, and a second finger joined the first, forcing its way into her ass with a bit more difficulty. Just two fingers, and Momo already felt stretched to the limit; she could already feel her pussy throbbing and dripping with the sheer anticipation of having to accommodate Caleb’s massive cock inside her.
A thin trickle of oil fell between Momo’s buttocks, serving as lubricant for those intrusive fingers forcing their way into her anus. The coolness of the liquid contrasted with the heat her skin had acquired after so many orgasms, after having fucked a few times.
“Oh my—Oohh!!” Momo couldn’t speak properly when Caleb spread his fingers, stretching her ass even further, forcing the ring of muscles to its limit. As Momo struggled to withstand it, the gigolo shoved a third finger into Momo’s tight ass, and she almost came right then and there.
It was incredible that she could hold those three thick fingers in her ass, have them shoved all the way in, and still endure Caleb spreading them apart. Her anus protested, but Momo felt no pain from being stretched; all her body processed was incredible pleasure. Pleasure she was slowly becoming addicted to.
Her pussy burned almost as intensely as her ass. Neglected and with no action for the moment, Momo’s pussy throbbed freely, dripping nectar and letting it run down her thighs, mixing with the oil. She was definitely going to need a bath after this, and maybe sex in the hot tub wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
A little oil ran into her ass and Momo shuddered. Now Caleb was spreading her cheeks, stretching her ass to limits she hadn’t seen in a long time; her sphincter was literally burning as it clenched around those intrusive fingers, but she didn’t stop the gigolo from his task. Caleb kept fingering her ass, spreading his fingers and enjoying the beautiful sounds coming from Momo’s mouth. Without a doubt, the guy was a pro at what he did, though that had already been proven earlier.
With a fart-like sound, Caleb abruptly pulled his fingers out of Momo’s ass, splashing a little oil and leaving her anus wide open. It took a few seconds for the sphincter to return to its original state, which meant Momo was ready for the main course. Enough with the games, now it was time for the real action.
Momo let out a little scream when Caleb grabbed her by the hips and pulled her away from the sofa she was leaning against. Now deprived of the support the furniture had offered, the businesswoman was on all fours on the carpet, her crotch fully exposed and her big tits hanging out. Many would have, and had, done unthinkable things to have Momo like this, but Caleb was getting paid for it. A real stroke of luck for the guy.
Still a little unsure whether Momo would be able to take his cock in her ass, Caleb positioned himself behind her. “Ready to be stretched?” he asked as he jerked off to spread oil along the length of his cock.
“To be stretched and filled,” Momo corrected him with a playful smile. She had paid for this and expected nothing less than the best, though in reality she was already getting it.
“Let’s see if you’re so cocky when I stick my dick in you.” Caleb tapped Momo’s ass with his cock a couple of times before rubbing the tip against her sphincter.
“You’ve already shoved it all the way down my throat and into my pussy, what makes you think that- Oooohhhhhh, God!!” The question Momo was asking trailed off because Caleb decided that was the perfect moment to shove his cock into Momo’s eager ass. With more effort than he had expected, he managed to get the head of his cock past the businesswoman’s sphincter.
It was true that her ass had been prepared very well and that Momo was no stranger to anal sex, but still, nothing could have fully prepared her to receive the cock that was being shoved into her ass. Only the tip was inside, but somehow it felt just as thick, or even thicker, than the fingers that had stretched her out before. Honestly, not even her biggest toys had made her feel this full after going in so little.
“I barely put the tip in and you’re already like this.” Caleb’s teasing had the desired effect because Momo looked at him with a murderous glint in her eyes and, giving it her all, moved her ass backward, thus pushing more of that thick cock inside herself. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, Momo clenched her ass to swallow more and more of Caleb’s heavy member, feeling how the piece of meat stretched her sphincter and pushed against her walls.
“What were you saying?” Now it was Momo who smiled because, despite everything, she had managed to fit half the cock into her ass. Something truly admirable to accomplish without much trouble, given the size of Caleb’s body and the stark contrast with Momo’s.
“God, I love my job.” The gigolo smacked Momo’s ass with a hard slap before using his right hand to grab the opposite cheek, leaving Momo’s anus fully exposed and now able to see how it was swallowing his cock.
Up until now, the pace had been slow. Although Momo was taking it without any major problems other than the occasional strange movement of her mouth, which were probably silent moans, that wasn’t what she wanted; it was far from what she had paid for. Realizing this, Caleb took matters into his own hands and, with a thrust of his hips, forced a large portion of his cock into Momo’s ass. The businesswoman moaned audibly this time, unable to resist without sighing.
Almost there, just a little more and Caleb’s cock would be completely inside the woman’s ass. Just a few more centimeters, one more thrust, and that was it. A single thrust and bam! Caleb’s hips slammed against Momo’s ass, making a slapping sound that mingled with the powerful moan escaping her mouth. Somehow she’d managed it; Momo had managed to fit, not without effort, the gigolo’s huge cock into her ass. That was the first step, but now came the interesting part, because of course she wasn’t going to settle for just having the cock shoved in and that being it. No, what Momo wanted was to have her ass fucked and her insides rearranged in the process.
“Your ass really was able to take my cock.”
“I told you I could. Now, what are you waiting for to fuck my ass?” Momo relaxed and clenched her anus to hurry the guy along, or at least she did as much as she could because her sphincter was really stretched out right now.
“Are you always this impatient?” Caleb slowly pulled his hips back to pull almost all of his cock out of Momo’s ass.
“Yeah, but especially when someone promise me a good fuck and then nooooooth-” In what was quickly becoming a habit, Caleb used his cock to cut Momo off and stop her from finishing her sentence. He rammed into the businesswoman with force, driving his entire cock into Momo’s ass in one single thrust. “Oh fuck!”
Without hesitation, Caleb began pounding Momo’s ass like a piston. Aided by the oil, the massive hunk of meat that was his cock relentlessly forced its way in, stretching Momo’s sphincter and slamming against its walls. His cock was so thick and long that when it was fully inside Momo, it reached all the way to her colon. Which caused her a delicious discomfort, something else to add to the mix of pleasurable sensations that were now flooding her body.
With every new thrust of the man’s hips against Momo’s plump ass, her tits moved too. In fact, her whole body was trembling, but it was her tits that hung freely and swung back and forth like giant pendulums. Earlier, Caleb had already come all over those tits, painting them white with thick strands of cum, the very same cum Momo hoped the man would soon shoot inside her ass.
They’d already lost count of how many combined orgasms they’d had that night, but the number was high, and it seemed the count was far from over. Not while Caleb was thrusting his cock in and out of Momo’s ass, as she moaned nonstop like she hadn’t in quite some time, proving that the gigolo was fully living up to her expectations.
Caleb’s balls slapped against Momo’s skin every time he rammed into her, making a wet sound from the oil and how soaked her pussy was. The gigolo was putting all the strength he’d built up through hours of grueling exercise into filling Momo’s ass with as much of his cock as possible, relentlessly pushing his way through the businesswoman’s rectum like a locomotive entering a tunnel.
If it weren’t for the fact that Momo was already used to anal sex, she’d probably be worried right now that Caleb was going to split her ass open, that he was going to tear her in two, but since she was no stranger to that, she could focus on the pleasure. Even so, her ass still burned; even with copious amounts of oil, her anus still offered some resistance to the entry of that massive column of meat. But there was nothing in the world Momo could do, or wanted to do, to stop Caleb from continuing to impale her.
Without breaking the rhythm of his hips, Caleb yanked Momo’s hair, forcing her head back, while he leaned over her. “You’re quite a whore, but despite all the use, your ass is still tight.” Caleb spat the words from above trying to taunt her.
Momo’s response was as obscene as she herself could be. Instead of words, the businesswoman rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue, panting like a bitch in heat while the corners of her lips curved into a smile. Presenting herself as the truly depraved creature she really was.
Normally, Momo would never have let anyone treat her like this, not in the business world, at least. But here? Here, things were different. She had hired Caleb precisely for this; although not explicitly stated in her request, this was what Momo was looking for when she asked for the biggest cock available. Losing control, letting herself go, accepting that someone else would take the initiative or disrespect her. These were all things Momo could only do in the heat of sex.
Being on all fours in her living room while a black Adonis fucked her ass as if his life depended on it was an indulgence Momo didn’t always allow herself. But when she did, she let herself go completely. There was no point in hiring a professional and paying him such a large sum of money if she wasn’t going to end up with every hole sore and full of cum. That was the special treatment she expected from someone like Caleb, nothing more and nothing less. Only with someone like him and in a situation like this did Momo allow herself to surrender control and abandon herself to pleasure.
“God, what a slut.” Caleb’s voice rang out between the slaps of his hips against Momo’s plump ass.
“The best you’ll ever have.” The businesswoman managed to say between gasps, and to tell the truth, she was right. Caleb would probably never find another client like her, which made him enjoy this moment even more. None of his regular client was this pretty, this horny, and this crazy. For him being paid by Momo felt like win the lottery without even playing it.
The gigolo let go of Momo’s hair, and she was pushed forward by the force of his thrusts. Her huge tits no longer hung freely but were pressed against the floor, providing some support as her ass continued to be stretched. The movement caused her nipples to brush against the carpet, stimulating her even more. Momo moaned, Caleb growled, and thrust harder, slamming into the businesswoman’s colon.
The new position meant Momo now had her hands free; she no longer had to use them to support her weight. Which was a relief because now she could do something better with them, something like reaching for her crotch and relieving the pressure building up in her poor pussy. Up until now, all the action had been focused on her ass, leaving her cunt neglected and untouched; and even though she’d already been fucked in that hole quite a few times that night, Momo still needed stimulation there.
Feeling Caleb’s thrusts reverberate throughout her entire body, Momo reached for her center, which she found soaking wet and throbbing. Her fingers slid easily inside her pussy, making their way in at a different rhythm than the one with which the huge cock was drilling her ass. The contrast between her delicate fingers exploring her pussy and the hunk of meat stretching her ass was almost comical; probably not even four of Momo’s fingers put together could match the thickness of such a member. But even though her fingers didn’t seem enough, they actually helped quite a bit; the caresses on her pussy were the icing on the cake.
“Ooohh Yes! Fuck, that feels so good.” Momo spread her fingers, stretching her pussy, trying to imitate in part what Caleb had done to her before and was now doing to her ass. But nothing could match the feeling of having the gigolo inside her. Momo could even feel with her fingers how the guy’s thick member was forcing its way into her rectum, relentless and unstoppable; filling her to such an extent that Momo could almost caress his member through her delicate vaginal walls. As if her cunt were nothing more than a surgical glove, and she were a nurse jerking off her patient.
At this point, Caleb no longer bothered to speak; he simply focused on pounding the businesswoman and filling her ass with his cock, slamming into her colon and making her moan. He held Momo by the hips and penetrated her as fast and hard as he could, while she masturbated by shoving two fingers into her pussy.
Momo felt so dirty, so depraved, like a true bitch in heat for whom filling just one hole wasn’t enough. So much so that she was fucking her own pussy while longing to have a cock in her mouth as well. Maybe another time… But for now her mouth was busy moaning and gasping, letting out obscene noises. At that very moment, Momo had one cheek pressed against the carpeted floor, but it didn’t matter; all she cared about was the insistent way her walls were closing around her fingers and Caleb’s cock.
Both of the businesswoman’s holes throbbed with fiery fervor, contracting more and more, closing to the point where it made penetrating them more difficult. But that only made Caleb thrust harder, pushing with more intensity, growling as he dug his fingers into Momo’s hips. He pounded her so hard that every time their skin collided, a loud slap echoed, as if there were a crowd there applauding them for fucking like animals in heat.
The combined force of Caleb’s thrusts and the movements of her fingers pushed Momo to her limit. Her pussy contracted and released a huge gush of fluids, which ran down her thigh, while her ass clenched as tight as it could, trapping the cock inside her like a boa constrictor wrapping itself around its prey. That made Caleb let out a growl and he couldn’t hold back any longer either.
Like a dam bursting, Caleb came without hesitation inside Momo’s ass. Filling her insides with copious amounts of warm semen, emptying his balls inside the businesswoman until not a single drop of semen remained inside them. But even then Momo's asshole kept milking his shaft.
Gasping from the effort of relentless fucking the woman, Caleb pulled back. His cock slid out of Momo’s ass with an obscene sound, a mix between a squelch and a fart. The gigolo was exhausted, so he sat down on the floor, propping himself up on his hands, admiring what he had done to the businesswoman’s ass.
Momo remained on all fours with her ass in the air, slapping her pussy in an attempt to cope with the immense sensation of pleasure she was feeling. Her anus was still visibly open, or rather wide open. From where he was sitting, Caleb could see how the inside of her rectum was flooded with cum, and how an equal amount was oozing out of her anus and running down her crotch and thighs.
When Momo opened the door for him that afternoon, the gigolo couldn’t even have imagined he’d end up seeing her like this. Most of his clients had trouble fitting even half of his massive cock into their pussies, so anal was out of the question almost every time. But Momo had swallowed his cock whole and had endured the punishment without much trouble. Which, in itself, was quite impressive.
“It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this.” Momo blew a strand of hair out of her face. She had collapsed onto her side and was now looking at Caleb with a demonic gleam in her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. Her face was covered in sweat, and the carpet was imprinted on one cheek from how hard he’d pounded her. From the distance, Caleb could see that her cheek was also stained with dried saliva, indicating that she had literally drooled with pleasure.
“That full?” Caleb asked.
“Exactly. So full, so horny, so used… Like a whore.” Momo barely managed to sit up and, grimacing, crawled over to where the gigolo was. “You don’t know how lucky you are…” With total brazenness, the businesswoman rubbed her face against Caleb’s cock, which, despite being flaccid, was still a considerable size.
“Yaaaa!! You crazy bitch, you’re going to drain me dry.” That was all Caleb could say as Momo took his cock into her mouth with a wide smile, feeling the taste of cum and her own ass flood her senses until the tip was far pass her uvula.
A/N: I started writing this after that Jihyo x BBC story I posted a while back, and as my previous story I thought this was the right moment to finish it. No much to say about this, is just straight porn with nothing more inside.
A/N: Look who is back. Finally I was able to finish this story. The final is slightly different from what I originally had planned, but the core is the same.
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting intricate patterns across the kitchen surfaces; outside, the birds were singing, and it was clear it was going to be a pleasant day. Everything would be perfect if it weren’t for that damn sink, which was still clogged.
Jihyo had been asking her wife for a week to check it out, but nothing had happened; the damn thing was still clogged, and now the water pooled inside was starting to smell bad. At least her wife had called someone to fix the damn sink once and for all. That was something, at least, even though she had gone out and now it was Jihyo who had to let the plumber in.
A steady knock at the front door snapped Jihyo out of her reverie. That must be the plumber who had arrived. She set her coffee cup down on the kitchen’s quartz countertop and smoothed out her hair and clothes a bit before going to answer the door.
Knowing her wife, Jihyo expected to find a chubby man with stained clothes who reeked of sweat. To her pleasant surprise, when she opened the door, she found none of that; in fact, it was the exact opposite of what she’d imagined. Standing in her doorway was a beautiful woman wearing blue overalls tied at the waist. The sleeveless shirt she wore exposed her arms, revealing powerful biceps that gave away the fact that she worked out quite a bit. Or perhaps they were simply that way because of her hard work.
Indeed, the morning heat was taking its toll on her gentle face, producing a thin layer of sweat that glistened on her features. Even so, the stranger still looked beautiful. Her eyes were kind, and her slightly chubby cheeks looked even fuller because of the wide smile she was giving Jihyo.
“Good morning,” the stranger greeted her. “You called me about a problem with… the plumbing?” She ended more as a question than a statement, accompanied by a little chuckle. As if forgetting why she’d been called was something funny.
Jihyo couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, responding with a smile. “It’s the sink, actually.” She rested one arm on the doorframe and leaned her weight against it while bringing her other hand to her waist, as if she were posing for a photo shoot or something similar. Her actions immediately had the desired effect.
The stranger swallowed hard, taking in Jihyo for the first time, and not just her face. The outfit the woman had chosen for that morning was certainly revealing, to say the least. Jihyo knew she had a hot body and loved to show it off; after all, she spent too much time at the gym not to brag about her own physique.
That morning, Jihyo was wearing a sheer dress made of a lace-like fabric with intricate patterns. These patterns revealed her tanned skin and the bra and shorts she wore underneath, which were part of the set. But of all that, what caught the plumber’s attention was the neckline. Jihyo was beautiful, too, but her prominent cleavage was completely distracting the stranger. Jihyo knew it and resisted the urge to lick her lips so as not to give herself away in front of a stranger that she liked the attention from.
Jihyo didn’t want to act like a slut, much less in front of someone she’d just met, but turning heads and drawing attention was her way of getting revenge for the many ways her wife neglected her. If her wife didn’t appreciate her spectacular figure enough, Jihyo was going to show her that others certainly did. Even if her wife wasn’t there to see it.
“Why don’t you go inside and check it out?” She clearly couldn’t because Jihyo was standing there blocking the door. “I don’t want you to get heatstroke because of me.” The stranger ran her hand across her forehead, wiping away the sweat, while nodding in agreement. “This way.” Jihyo finally cleared the way, motioning for the woman to enter the house, and closed the door once she was inside. “The kitchen is this way.”
Jihyo led her, walking a few steps ahead without turning to see if she was following or not. She could hear her work boots echoing against the wooden floor and the metallic clinking of the toolbox behind her. Jihyo was more concerned with swaying her hips as she walked because she was sure the stranger had her eyes glued to her butt, it was impossible for her not to. A little more showing off wouldn’t hurt anyone, and besides, Jihyo was happy to have a beautiful woman and not a chubby, dirty man behind her. At least her wife had gotten that right, for a change.
Of course the woman noticed Jihyo’s hips; it was impossible not to. The dress and the way she moved them as she walked made it almost impossible to look anywhere else, unless you were staring at her butt. Jihyo was proud of what she’d achieved at the gym, of the way her butt looked now. Her wife had once teased her because her butt was small and didn’t stand out, but now everyone drooled over how shapely it was. A great result of Jihyo’s hard work and stubbornness.
But the other thing Momo inevitably noticed as she walked through the house were the framed photos hanging on the walls here and there. In them, a young Jihyo could be seen, always accompanied by another woman. As they made their way through the house, the plumber saw how the photos told the couple’s story up until their wedding day. After that, there weren’t many more photos.
“Here it is.” Jihyo pointed toward the sink once they reached the kitchen. “It’s a complete mess.”
“Let me check it out first. It doesn’t look that complicated.” The plumber approached the sink to inspect it and had to wrinkle her nose when she smelled the foul odor coming from it. Whistling under her breath, she stuck her hand into the stagnant water and fished around as if that would solve the problem. “I think the pipe is clogged. I’m going to have to open it up to clean it out and see what’s going on.” She wiped her hand on her overalls before continuing. “Ma’am, this is going to take a little while, so if…”
“No ‘madam,’ just call me Jihyo.” For some reason she was standing dangerously close to the sink, leaning on the countertop actually, and that startled the plumber when she turned to give her diagnosis. “By the way, you haven’t told me your name.”
“Momo, my name is Momo. Ma’am… Nice to meet you.” The woman gave her a wide smile that made her look a little silly, but Jihyo had to admit that maybe that was part of her charm. Maybe. “As I was saying, I have to open up the pipes to check them. It might get a little smelly in here.”
“Don’t worry, it already stinks enough. I don’t think it’ll get any worse.” Jihyo waved her hand, as if shooing away the bad smell or Momo’s doubts. “It’s been like this for a week, so I’m used to it by now.”
Jihyo walked around the kitchen island, eventually leaning over it with her arms resting on the counter. Making it clear she wasn’t going anywhere, and also exposing more of her cleavage as she leaned forward. Momo had a hard time trying to look away, so she decided it was better to focus on her toolbox; looking for what she needed to unclog the pipes instead of staring at her client’s breasts.
After tying her hair into a bun and rummaging through her toolbox for a while, Momo found what she needed to get to work. Kneeling on the kitchen floor with half her body inside the cabinet housing the sink, she carefully inspected the pipes until she decided which one to remove first so as not to flood the kitchen with stagnant water. As a precaution, she placed a bucket she’d asked Jihyo for and removed the first section of pipe. Instantly, a flood of dirty water poured into the bucket, splashing Momo in the face. She grimaced but kept working under her client’s watchful gaze.
Jihyo didn’t understand a thing Momo was doing; she knew nothing about plumbing or that sort of thing, but she didn’t miss a single detail of her actions. Not because she thought she had to keep an eye on her to make sure she wasn’t slacking off and wasting time, but because she had decided to treat herself to the spectacle of watching Momo work. Every time she strained to loosen a pipe or reached up to grab a tool from her box, her muscles tensed, revealing just how strong her biceps were and how hard her arms were in general.
It didn’t hurt anyone for Jihyo to stand there watching, taking in the show, while listening to the things Momo muttered to herself. The poor thing was so immersed in her work that she probably wasn’t even aware that Jihyo was feasting her eyes on her arms, wondering how Momo’s calloused hands would feel against her skin. She didn’t miss a single detail of her movements or her butt, which, despite being hidden by the overalls, was quite visible. A little fantasy on a random Tuesday morning didn’t hurt anyone. On the contrary, it actually stimulated Jihyo and made her forget the foul smell that filled the kitchen.
“I think it’s done,” Momo announced, emerging from under the sink. Her face, arms, and shirt were splattered with dirty water, causing the fabric to cling to her body in places, making it look tighter than it actually was. The splashes and sweat gave Momo a somewhat disheveled look, perhaps wild or raw, which Jihyo chose to ignore, just as she had ignored how it made her feel. “Now all that’s left is to try it.”
Momo turned on the sink faucet and watched closely as the water pooled for a few seconds before beginning to flow freely down the drain, disappearing through the pipes to some remote place. She had done it; Jihyo’s sink was fixed. Now all that was left was to get rid of the water in the bucket so the kitchen would stop stinking.
“Wow! You really did it.” Once again, Jihyo was dangerously close to Momo, so close that she could smell her perfume. It was much nicer than the smell of the water in the sink. “If you give me your details, I can transfer the payment to you, or would you prefer cash?”
“To be honest, I’d rather freshen up first. But a bank transfer is fine.”
Momo handed her a card with her account number and details before Jihyo showed her where the bathroom was and gave her a clean towel. After a few minutes, which Jihyo used to pay for her services, Momo returned to the kitchen, now free of stains and sweat.
“If you don’t need me for anything, I should go,” Momo said, scratching the back of her neck. The way her arm looked even more massive from that distance distracted Jihyo for a few long seconds.
“If it’s not too much trouble, could you get rid of the bucket? Just throw it on the plants in the backyard, please.”
It was such a small thing that Momo saw no reason to refuse; nothing stopped her from doing a small favor for a customer satisfied with her work. Taking the bucket, she went from the kitchen straight to the backyard and then came back in empty-handed. She had left the bucket outside just in case it stank too.
“I really should go now. I have a few things to check on at my shop.”
“Oh, but I can’t just let you leave like that.” Once again, Jihyo was dangerously close to Momo, as if she’d decided to ignore the boundaries of personal space. “Can I offer you some lemonade or something to drink? I’d feel bad if you left like this after working so hard.”
Momo swallowed hard, making an effort to look anywhere but at Jihyo’s cleavage, which was proving quite difficult given how close she was.
“Lemonade would be fine,” she finally managed to say.
With a smile, Jihyo turned and went to open the fridge, bending down to look for the lemonade pitcher. This time, Momo couldn’t take her eyes off the woman. She’d spent the whole morning trying not to stare at her like a pervert, trying not to look at Jihyo’s cleavage or think about the sway of her hips; but seeing her bent over like that made it impossible for her to keep turning a blind eye.
Jihyo undoubtedly had the best butt Momo had seen in a long time, and from the way she lingered over taking out the pitcher, it was clear she wanted Momo to notice it. The fabric of her dress had clung to her body, clearly revealing the shape of both her buttocks, making it obvious that her shorts weren’t able to fully contain them.
She was really going to need that lemonade because her mouth had gone dry. Momo had to get out of there as soon as possible or she was going to do something crazy that would end with her getting slapped, or maybe something worse. But when Jihyo stood up with the pitcher of lemonade in her hand and kicked the fridge door shut, Momo’s legs wouldn’t respond. Much less was she able to run away when Jihyo set the pitcher down on the island and stood in front of Momo again, invading her personal space once more.
Her heart skipped a beat when Jihyo raised an arm and ran her hand just a few centimeters from Momo’s ear; Momo thought she was going to touch her. But what was actually happening was that Jihyo had opened a cabinet behind Momo, looking for a glass to pour the lemonade into. But soon none of that mattered.
The glass was too far away, the cabinet was too high, or maybe it was simply because Momo was in the way, but when Jihyo stretched too far, she slipped and fell onto Momo. To keep Jihyo from ending up on the floor, Momo grabbed her around the waist with both hands. What she couldn’t prevent was Jihyo’s chest colliding with her own.
For the second time that morning, Momo failed miserably at her self-imposed task of not looking at Jihyo like a pervert. When she looked down to check if the woman was okay, all she saw was her prominent cleavage pressed against her, giving her a perfect view of the valley between Jihyo’s large breasts. Faced with that, Momo couldn’t help but hold Jihyo tighter and press her against herself.
A strange, involuntary sound escaped Jihyo’s lips as she felt her body being handled like that. Momo’s powerful hands held her tightly, preventing her from falling, but at the same time keeping her from pulling away, from going anywhere.
Momo was squeezing harder than she should have, but it wasn’t in Jihyo’s plans to complain about it. Instead of pulling away, she stared intently at Momo, studying her face as she lost herself in the depth of her kind eyes. Eyes that now shone with an intensity different from what they had shown until now. That kindness was still there; her gaze conveyed calm, but it also revealed a desire that had suddenly grown and was spreading like wildfire inside Momo.
Slowly lowering her outstretched arm, Jihyo wrapped it around Momo’s head, playing with the hair behind her ear. “Maybe I have another job for you…” Her voice was almost a purr.
“What would that job be?” Momo was regretting not having gotten to try the lemonade, because her mouth was as dry as if she’d been walking through the desert.
Jihyo leaned close to her ear to whisper, as if trying to hide from the world what she was about to say next. “How about you check my pipes? All of them.”
She let the sentence hang in the air without pulling away from Momo; she didn’t even try. It would probably be useless anyway, because the plumber had a firm grip on her and didn’t seem to have any intention of letting go. Her hands were firmly on Jihyo’s hips, making it look more like she was about to hug her than prevent her from falling. A hug that they were both well aware they shouldn’t share.
“I should start checking right here… If that’s okay with you.”
“You can check here… In the bathroom, in my room. Wherever you want.” Jihyo didn’t dare brush her lips against Momo’s cheek, that would be too much, but that didn’t stop her from breathing right into her ear. As if she were trying to show her without words but actions just how fast her heart was racing right now.
Momo could not only see Jihyo’s closeness, but she could also feel it. In the way her hips responded to her grip, in the way Jihyo breathed against her ear, or in the sweet scent of her perfume; which was a far cry from the smell of sweat and work that Momo carried. The plumber allowed herself to be intoxicated by that mixture of scents and sensations that was Jihyo, trying to control herself so as not to squeeze her hips any tighter for fear of hurting her. She knew this was wrong, that Jihyo was a married woman. But if she wasn’t going to worry about her wife, Momo certainly wasn’t going to either.
Realizing exactly what Jihyo’s proposal was about, that it wasn’t about a plumbing job, Momo leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I’m going to make sure to check every single one of your pipes.” That was how they stopped pretending, stopped testing the waters, and simply let themselves be carried away by the circumstances.
Jihyo not only brushed her lips against Momo’s cheek, but quickly found Momo’s lips to lose herself in a shared kiss. Right now, she didn’t want to think about the possibility of her wife coming back and finding her in the arms of the person who was supposed to fix the sink. No, right now it was more important to focus on Momo’s lips, on how her tongue was trying to invade Jihyo’s mouth, or on how her hands had started to move from her hips.
Momo’s tongue finally made its way into Jihyo’s mouth, or perhaps it was Jihyo herself who let it in, to immediately dance together with hers, twisting in a warm, wet whirlwind. Meanwhile, Momo’s hands weren’t staying still either, positioning themselves on Jihyo’s back to hold her in a different way but still preventing her from pulling away.
Their breaths mingled as they melted further and further into that forbidden kiss. Letting themselves be carried away by desire and ignoring the logic that told them this was wrong. But Jihyo needed some adventure in her life, a change for a change’s sake, and Momo wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity if a woman as beautiful and fiery as this threw herself into her arms. Neither of them could let this opportunity pass, even if it meant losing their marriage or their job. Pleasure, lust, sin, that was all that filled their minds, clouding their judgment and pushing them a little further.
Between gasps, Jihyo managed to pull away slightly. “Let me help you find where you need to check.” With those words, she took Momo’s hands in hers, feeling how rough they were from work, and guided them down to her butt in a clear invitation to explore her anatomy more closely. Momo didn’t waste any time and squeezed the buttocks that Jihyo was so kindly offering her.
The married woman let out a sigh that died on Momo’s lips. The plumber was strong enough to lift her just by grabbing her ass, but instead she was too busy kneading Jihyo’s well-toned buttocks. Countless hours at the gym had built up that ass and shaped it into the form it had now. The perfect size to fall into Momo’s hands, to fit between her fingers and spill out from between them when the woman squeezed her ass. Touching Jihyo’s butt was a full-fledged delight, an almost religious experience. But even more so was the way Momo’s caresses stretched Jihyo’s dress, making her cleavage look more prominent.
Between kisses, Momo could appreciate Jihyo’s bust, seeing that her breasts threatened to escape from the bra that held them captive. Nothing would have pleased Momo more than to have one of those breasts in her mouth to play with the nipple, whose edge peeked shyly out from the bra, revealing a light brown color. To suck on it and perhaps bite it, even to venture to leave marks that Jihyo’s wife would find later.
“Did you find the problem yet?” Jihyo’s voice was a whisper between ragged gasps and passionate kisses.
“I have to look deeper.” Momo played along, pulling her dress up so she could finally touch her skin properly.
Indeed, the shorts she was wearing weren’t able to contain her buttocks and left half of them exposed, but the dress did the job of covering what the shorts couldn’t. Now, with the garment out of the way, Momo was free to knead Jihyo’s ass however she wanted, squeezing and spreading those delicious buttocks, molding them with her caresses and earning a moan from Jihyo. But she couldn’t stop there.
Momo growled softly, sliding her hands down, slipping them under Jihyo’s shorts without a shred of hesitation or remorse. She grabbed her ass with both hands, squeezing so hard it made Jihyo moan again, feeling how the soft skin yielded under her caresses as if it were wet clay. She spread her buttocks urgently, tracing the thin line of the thong that hid the small, tight anus beneath.
Meanwhile, Jihyo was melting in Momo’s hands, feeling her fingers explore her flesh and take possession of her. Feeling her own heart pounding against her ribs in a way it hadn’t in a long time. The flame of passion was burning fiercely within Jihyo, making her look like a lit torch in the middle of a dark cave. Her ragged breath was dying in Momo’s mouth along with the soft moans caused by Momo’s caresses on her body.
Urgency and greed were taking hold of Momo, making her want more of Jihyo, needing more of her. Without hesitation, she dared to pull down Jihyo’s shorts, sliding them down to mid-thigh with quick movements that at times became clumsy due to urgency and excitement. As expected, Jihyo didn’t protest as Momo undressed her in the middle of her own kitchen. She didn’t seem to mind that someone she’d met less than an hour ago was exploring her body so deeply. But to tell the truth, Jihyo hoped Momo would explore her in more detail and not stop at the surface.
“I need you out of those shorts.” It wasn’t a request; it was an order. One that Jihyo obeyed by pushing the garment down herself so it gathered around her ankles, because Momo’s hands seemed glued to her ass. Then she simply kicked the shorts aside, leaving only her thong on, which covered absolutely nothing of her anatomy.
Jihyo kissed Momo’s neck, clinging to the sides of her shirt so she wouldn’t slip again. Momo growled, unafraid to look vulnerable or to show how much the woman in her arms affected her. She had driven her crazy from the moment she opened the door to welcome her, and now she no longer needed to keep those impure thoughts about a married woman at bay.
Demonstrating the strength in her arms, Momo lifted Jihyo and practically carried her by the hips until her feet barely touched the floor. She carried her over to the island, where she sat her on the quartz countertop with her legs spread and her dress rolled up to her waist.
“I think I’m starting to get a handle on the problem?” Momo’s hands were forced to leave Jihyo’s butt, but that didn’t mean they were moving away from her. There was plenty to touch, plenty to grab, like the married woman’s prominent cleavage.
As Momo trailed a path of kisses down Jihyo’s neck, past her collarbone until she reached her breasts, Jihyo felt things were getting serious. Which was stupid because right now she was wearing only a thong from the waist down, and Momo had already groped her entire butt. But being in a thong wasn’t the same as having her breasts exposed and a practically unknown woman sucking on her nipple.
Jihyo might have worn a similarly skimpy bikini bottom on some beach in a tropical paradise when she was feeling especially daring, or if her wife had asked her to. But that was very different. It was a beach at a tourist destination, a place where people went to have fun and tan their bodies in the sun. That had nothing to do with the kitchen in her own home, let alone having another woman eating her tits.
The moment Momo’s mouth found her nipple, Jihyo surrendered completely. In reality, she had already done so the moment she slid onto Momo, but now she abandoned any pretense of hiding how much she was enjoying this. Momo’s warm tongue worked on her hard nipple, drawing out moans she had no interest in suppressing. There was no point, since the only person who could hear those sounds was Momo, and Jihyo was sure she didn’t want to miss them. After all, she was the one to blame for Jihyo being like this.
The sweet notes of Jihyo’s perfume mingled with the soft scent of her skin, overwhelming Momo’s senses in a blinding way that led her to sink deeper and deeper into the married woman’s cleavage. Her soft breasts welcomed her with enveloping warmth and hard nipples, which Momo was caressing with her tongue and gently biting.
Jihyo pressed Momo’s head against her chest, between her breasts, to which Momo reacted by groping for her thighs. Her hands didn’t take long to find them and move dangerously close to Jihyo’s crotch, protected only by the pitiful excuse for underwear that was her thong. Such a tiny garment wasn’t going to keep Momo at bay, and frankly, at this point the thong was nothing more than a tiny triangle of fabric soaked in Jihyo’s nectar.
Momo confirmed this when she gently pressed against Jihyo’s covered pussy. Instantly, her fingers felt the married woman’s wetness, unmistakable proof of just how much Jihyo was enjoying this illicit encounter.
“There’s a leak here I need to fix.” Two of her fingers pressed against the ruined fabric, but it was when they slid over it that a shiver ran through Jihyo’s body. From her spine to the deepest corners of her being, Jihyo felt her body melt with pleasure.
“Then go down there and check it out.” Just as Momo had done earlier when she demanded that Jihyo take off her shorts, Jihyo now took her hand and ordered her to go down and dive into the wetness of her center. Because no one in the world would have thought that was a request, Jihyo had issued a full-fledged command. An order that showed she wasn’t just going to stay there at Momo’s mercy for her to do whatever she wanted with her, but that she was going to actively participate.
Following the married woman’s orders, Momo reluctantly pulled away from her breasts to kneel down, coming face-to-face with Jihyo’s crotch. Just as she had knelt to fix the sink, she now did so to immerse herself in a different kind of wetness. One that was undeniably a thousand times more pleasurable and delightful.
With her thumb, she pushed aside the ruined fabric, finally revealing before her the work of art that was Jihyo’s cunt. Soaked, throbbing, and burning with the fire that this illicit encounter was igniting within her. Momo could do nothing but lick her lips at such a sight, as if she were a cat eyeing a juicy fish. Or rather, like a wild feline stalking its prey, about to pounce on it and sink its claws into its tender flesh.
The calm before the storm was a few agonizing seconds during which only Momo’s breathing could be heard in the kitchen, before she finally decided to dive between the legs of a woman she hadn’t even known an hour ago. A married woman who was half-naked on the kitchen island of the house she shared with her wife. Something Momo shouldn’t be doing, but to her, it seemed like there was nothing else in the world right now.
Momo’s flat tongue landed on Jihyo’s folds, causing another moan; one more of the many Momo had elicited from her in such a short time. Something else to add to the list of things Momo had done to her that made her melt like a candle under the summer sun.
Jihyo’s nectar flowed copiously from her center, which had become a spring from which Momo quenched her thirst. Jihyo was the forbidden fruit of pleasure and lust. A ripe, juicy fruit that throbbed at Momo’s touch, releasing more and more nectar as she licked.
As if that weren’t enough, the plumber decided to push Jihyo a little further into madness. With the same finger that had earlier pushed aside the thong, Momo now caressed Jihyo’s clitoris. The bundle of nerves gave in to her caresses, sending electric sensations that made Jihyo’s toes curl and a lump form in her throat. A dry moan, almost like a growl, escaped her mouth unexpectedly.
Despite it being her first time with her, Momo quickly found Jihyo’s sweet spots. She quickly grasped where to lick and when to suck, how to move her thumb, and how deep to go with her tongue. Jihyo was an open book to Momo, who had become an avid reader of this forbidden tome. Turning page after page without missing a single detail of the reactions her reading provoked in Jihyo, who shuddered and moaned especially loudly when Momo applied more pressure to her clitoris.
Gushing like a broken pipe, Jihyo braced her hands behind her, leaning her full weight onto them and, consequently, onto the counter of the island. If her wife found her like this, lying on her back with her legs spread so the plumber could eat her pussy, it would definitely be the end of their marriage. Luckily, her wife had decided to go out and leave her home alone; now she had to face the consequences of her actions.
It was almost pathetic that Jihyo was already in heaven with so little. Just a few licks and a few strokes on the bundle of nerves that was her clitoris, and she was already moaning pitifully as her pulse quickened to the rhythm of the woman’s licks between her legs. So little caused so much in her that it was evident how neglected she was, how much her wife had been ignoring the book of Jihyo’s pleasure.
Without thinking, she grabbed Momo by the head. As if her hand were a claw and she were an eagle firmly gripping her prey so it couldn’t escape. But was it really necessary? No, of course not. Momo had knelt down willingly and had plunged into the depths of Jihyo’s crotch, seeking her own pleasure as well. Momo was satisfying her hunger, but holding her like this gave Jihyo a sense of control that she liked. It was like holding the leash of a puppy you knew wasn’t going anywhere.
If it weren’t for the fact that it would make her fall off the island, Jihyo would have been grinding her center against Momo’s face. Just as she was, supporting her weight with one hand and holding Momo with the other, it was the perfect position to do it. To let herself go, once again, and use the plumber’s face to give herself pleasure.
Momo took the hand holding her head as yet another confirmation of how well she was doing. That she was making the right decisions when licking, sucking, or penetrating with her tongue. That her thumb, instead of causing discomfort, was delivering nothing but pleasure. It wasn’t just Jihyo’s hand confirming this, but also the heat of her pussy, the small tremors in her thighs, the way her moans had risen in intensity until reaching a brazen volume. It wasn’t just Jihyo’s sweet moans bouncing off the kitchen walls, but also the way she pressed Momo’s head against her body.
Perhaps Jihyo couldn’t grind against her, but that didn’t stop her from pressing Momo deeper into her crotch. Now Momo ate with greater greed, with more brazenness, and in a more reckless manner. Jihyo’s nectar dripped down her chin, staining her neck just as sweat had done before.
There was no longer room for her hand; there was only room for her face and her hunger for the married woman. Momo pressed her face against her, practically devouring her, making wet noises as she ate her pussy. She took both of Jihyo’s thighs behind the knee and spread them as far as she could without hurting her. Pulling her, she drew her closer until Jihyo’s ass was on the edge of the precipice, practically about to fall off the island. She was only staying on the furniture thanks to Momo’s hands.
Maybe it was that wild hunger with which she was eating her pussy, or the pornographic sounds Momo made while doing it. The way the plumber’s tongue explored her insides without restraint, and her lips kissed her wet folds. It could have been being literally on the verge of falling, held up only by her hand and because her legs were draped over Momo’s shoulders. It may have been each of those things or all of them at once that pushed her over the inescapable precipice of sexual climax.
Pushing Momo’s head against her body, Jihyo came all over her face. Her pussy throbbed against Momo’s face as if trying to communicate with her in Morse code, while her nectar flowed in copious amounts, staining her entire face. Momo didn’t protest or try to pull away; she simply stayed there, drinking as much as she could with the same hunger with which she had been eating. Feeling Jihyo convulse and throb against her face.
The pleasure made her close her eyes and throw her head back like that as the orgasm hit her hard. Countless waves of pleasure coursed through Jihyo’s body, making her shudder and curl her toes. She had to make an effort not to crush Momo’s skull or break her nails against the deck of the island, she was clenching so hard. Her mouth was open as if she were about to moan, but at that very moment, when the pleasure was at its peak, Jihyo didn’t let out a single moan. She froze in silence, trying to withstand the onslaught of the orgasm, while the sun filtering through the sheer curtain created patterns on her face and bare chest.
Those were glorious moments until the pleasure began to subside and Jihyo came down from the clouds to realize she was barely keeping her balance, at this point only aided by Momo. Her legs were still draped over Momo’s shoulders, and if not for that, her ass would have slipped off the island long ago. Using the sink faucet as an anchor point, Jihyo sat back down properly, or as close to it as she could manage. After all, sitting on the kitchen island with her legs spread and her bare chest exposed wasn’t exactly what you’d call normal, especially when there was someone between her legs who wasn’t her wife.
Finally, Momo was free to pull away, to stand up, to breathe normally. Her face was covered in Jihyo’s fluids; it was obvious at a glance how they had dripped down her chin and fallen onto her shirt as well. The fluid stains mingled with the water from the sink, making it clear that Momo needed a change of clothes urgently. But even more urgent was catching her breath, because her chest was rising and falling as if she’d run a marathon, when in reality she’d only been devouring Jihyo. To her, both activities seemed equally physically demanding.
“I think that leak is fixed now.” The mischievous tone of those words didn’t go unnoticed by Jihyo, who was still catching her breath.
With her head still tilted back and her eyes closed, Jihyo gently bit her lower lip, as if trying to stifle a sigh, before saying anything. “There are still places you should check.”
“I don’t know if I should…” Momo was still hungry, but doubt suddenly crept into her mind.
“I insist you should check every corner, every pipe…” Jihyo let the words slip out as she moved her feet, which dangled from the island without quite touching the floor, playing with them with a joy she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Maybe my room is a good place to keep looking.”
“Do you have problems there too?” Momo’s confidence wavered as she played along with Jihyo.
“You have no idea.” Jihyo tugged on Momo’s shirt to pull her closer, making her take up the space between her legs again. With her other hand, she wiped Momo’s face, or at least her mouth, before leaning into her lips and whispering against them. “Are you going to let me show you?”
Momo couldn’t help but kiss Jihyo, sending her doubts about what she was doing back to the depths of her mind. The married woman’s offer was too tempting, too good, to think twice about accepting it. She’d already made her come once, and that “search” in the bedroom promised more orgasms for both of them.
The disparity in their clothing had to be remedied promptly. While Momo was still fully clothed, Jihyo was missing her shorts and had her breasts exposed, plus her dress was hiked up to her waist. So she lifted Momo’s shirt, breaking the kiss just to pull the garment over her head and toss it somewhere she didn’t even bother to look. Her nimble hands then found the clasp of the bra and got rid of that garment as well. The plumber’s breasts now hung freely for Jihyo’s hands to do whatever they wanted with them.
Being naked from the waist up but still wearing the overalls tied at the waist and her work boots gave Momo a peculiar look, something you didn’t see every day. Her bare torso was beautiful. Momo’s arms were defined by her work, but the way her abs were defined was the result of something entirely different. It was clear at a glance that despite her somewhat unkempt appearance, Momo took the time to work on her body. Her powerful yet still feminine appearance combined with her work clothes to give her a somewhat raw aura, a kind of roughness that was driving Jihyo crazy.
Clearly, Momo’s breasts were firmer than Jihyo’s. She confirmed this herself when she squeezed one, feeling the flesh of her breast spill between her fingers yet still retain its shape. Momo moaned into Jihyo’s mouth; she, too, was in need. The poor thing had eaten her cunt with a voracious hunger, receiving nothing in return but Jihyo’s moans and fluids. She had neglected herself in her quest to give the married woman more pleasure; that was something she needed to be rewarded for right now.
Jihyo let herself fall from the counter, pressing her weight against Momo, grinding her wet center against her thigh and adding a new stain to the jumpsuit. This time it was something different from the water from the pipes, but it flowed in a similar way.
“Bedroom… Now.” Amid kisses and sighs, the words managed to leave her mouth, but her lips couldn’t leave Momo’s. Momo held her firmly and pressed her thigh against Jihyo’s soaked center, not caring about the new wet stain forming there.
Finally, Jihyo managed to break free from Momo’s grip, not without a great effort of will on her part, and ran first out of the kitchen, then up the stairs. Momo lagged behind, standing in the same spot before deciding to go after Jihyo.
It was obvious that Momo didn’t know where the master bedroom was, or any other room for that matter, but Jihyo had left a trail of clothes for her to follow. She had gone up the stairs, Momo knew that because she had heard her, and halfway up she found Jihyo’s heels.
With every step she took, the wooden stairs creaked under the weight of her work boots, signaling to Jihyo that Momo was following the clues she had left behind. Just like Hansel and Gretel, Momo found more items of clothing along the way. First the dress, then the discarded bra a little further on showed her which direction to take. At the end of the hallway, she found Jihyo’s panties hanging from the doorknob of a half-open door, like a clear invitation to venture into the deepest recesses of the house. “The X marks the treasure,” Momo whispered to herself as she pushed the door open.
Knowing she was trespassing, the plumber crossed the threshold with a firm, determined stride. This was territory where she shouldn’t be, but she had been invited nonetheless. Momo was like a vampire lurking in the night until the maiden invited her in, except it was mid-morning and Jihyo was by no means an innocent damsel. Perhaps she was the exact opposite.
From all the clothes strewn along the path, Momo knew Jihyo was naked, but she hadn’t expected to find her like this. Jihyo was in her bed, the same one she shared with her wife every night, propped up on a pile of pillows. Her legs were spread wide, brazenly exposing her still-damp pussy, as if it were the final invitation Momo needed to erase all her doubts.
“With all that clothes on, you won’t be able to inspect it properly.” The words floated over to Momo, and then she realized she was still wearing the overalls tied at the waist and her boots. She must have looked comical, admiring Jihyo’s nakedness with her mouth slightly open, when she herself was topless and in her work clothes.
Never in her life had Momo undressed so quickly. The boots flew off her feet, and when she took off the overalls, Jihyo smiled at the sight of a damp spot on the plumber’s panties. She had caused that. Momo’s ruined panties ended up in an unorganised pile with the rest of her clothes.
Now in the same state of nudity as Jihyo, she climbed onto the bed and crawled over to the married woman. Momo moved like a wild animal ready to attack its prey; and in fact, she was. She was ready to pounce on Jihyo and devour her once more, but the woman had other plans for her. She made that clear by grabbing Momo by the face and pulling her toward her to kiss her. Instantly, the two melted into a desperate kiss, letting their tongues battle for a few moments before pulling apart again to catch their breath.
Momo didn’t waste any time and went to kiss Jihyo’s neck, while she played with her hair and held her by the back. Momo’s back was stronger than Jihyo had thought; she could feel her muscles under her palm and trace them easily with her fingertips, drawing lines across Momo’s skin as she focused on kissing Jihyo’s neck.
“Let me return the favor,” the married woman whispered into Momo’s ear, as if speaking those words in a low voice would hide the fact that she was cheating on her wife. “You’re already so wet, and just from eating me.” Jihyo took the opportunity to slide the hand that had been on her back down to Momo’s crotch, where her fingers felt the wetness of her center. The plumber found Jihyo’s lips and moaned right into her mouth as she felt her soaked folds.
“I have a better idea.” Momo’s trembling voice did nothing to hide that she was resisting the urge to let herself go and accept Jihyo’s offer, but at least right now she needed more than just her fingers. She needed a different, more special touch, something gentler.
Gently, Momo pulled away from Jihyo, kneeling in front of her. The mattress sank under her weight as if it knew she didn’t belong there, as if it wasn’t used to supporting her weight. But it could also just be that Momo was putting all her weight on a single point. In any case, ignoring her struggles, Momo took Jihyo by the thighs and pulled her, sliding her so she was lying more flat but with her head still resting on the pillows. Immediately, her fingers wrapped around the married woman’s delicate ankle and lifted it to spread her legs and expose her center.
Jihyo let the other woman do whatever she wanted with her; she had long since surrendered to her in this lustful and illicit adventure. She didn’t protest when Momo dragged her or when she lifted her leg; she just looked at her with that special gleam in her deep brown eyes, one that had recently awakened. Momo had already proven she knew what she was doing when she went down there to devour her with eagerness and skill, so why not continue to trust her abilities?
With her eyes half-closed, Momo admired the chaos that was Jihyo’s crotch, glistening with a mixture of her own wetness and Momo’s saliva. Carefully, the plumber slid a foot over Jihyo’s outstretched leg and straddled her thigh, still keeping her ankle raised. Now it was Momo’s wetness that clung to Jihyo’s skin. Her center seemed to burn against the married woman’s thigh; her firm muscles offered a resistance that Momo appreciated. Finally, some friction where she needed it most.
Meeting Jihyo’s eyes, Momo slid up her thigh, leaving a trail of wetness, until there was no more leg to rub against. Then their centers met, and Momo felt Jihyo’s delicate lips against her own.
There was hunger in Jihyo’s gaze, a hunger that overwhelmed Momo but at the same time drove her forward. Jihyo’s deep brown eyes looked deep into Momo’s, connecting on a level beyond mere gazes. She didn’t blink, but she did narrow her eyes when Momo began to move, rubbing her center against Jihyo’s. They continued to stare intently at each other even when they had to open their mouths to moan. Nothing could break their eye contact.
Their centers rubbed together in a wet kiss, charged with lust and hunger. Momo’s hips moved rhythmically while Jihyo lifted her own to increase the friction. Their moans blended into one, like a symphony musicalising their illicit encounter, interrupted only occasionally by small gasps from the effort of burning their centers together.
Eating Jihyo’s cunt had been a wonderful thing, but it had deprived Momo of seeing her reactions; now that she was naked on top of her, that had changed completely. Now Momo didn’t miss a single detail of the reactions she was causing in the married woman. Every tremor of her lips, the blush on her cheeks, the intensity of her gaze locked on hers. Everything was captured by the plumber’s eager eyes, which suddenly weren’t satisfied with just looking into Jihyo’s eyes, she also wanted to devour her with her gaze, and one could say she was already doing just that.
The plumber had a feast before her eyes, and that only made her even hungrier. Jihyo’s body trembled at the movements of her hips, causing her breasts and abdomen to quiver to the rhythm set by Momo with each rotation of her core. It was clear that the woman exercised a lot, but her body still had that softness just in the right spots.
Jihyo reached out to grab the hand Momo still had free, the one not holding her ankle, to give her more stability and a point of anchor so she could move her hips more frantically. Their fingers intertwined as Momo picked up the pace and Jihyo used her other hand to play with her breasts, putting on a show that made Momo’s heart skip a few beats. How was it possible that this married woman looked so spectacular and immaculate in a situation like this? If it weren’t for the fact that she was already married and cheating on her wife with Momo, she would have thought she’d found the perfect woman.
Jihyo’s hand looked small as it intertwined with Momo’s. The plumber gripped it tightly, making her biceps stand out even more and showcasing the toned muscles of her arms in all their glory. As her calloused hand clung fervently to the married woman’s, her abdomen contracted and stretched with each new rotation of her hips. The mere sight of Momo’s toned abs contorting made Jihyo bite her lower lip.
The support provided by Jihyo allowed Momo to apply a little more force, pressing herself a little closer against her while Jihyo herself pushed her hips upward in search of Momo. The pressure continued to build in their cores, as did the wetness and heat, causing their lips to slide more easily together in that obscene kiss they were sharing. Soon the heat and pressure became too intense to contain. Their cores throbbed with fervor, making their swollen lips burn with the fire of lust. A fire that was consuming them both.
With spectacular synchrony, they both let themselves go at the same time, plunging into the river of lust and letting themselves be swept away by the current of pleasure. As if they were one, the orgasm hit them at the same time, causing their bodies to tremble and their moans to lose any composure that might have remained in them. But despite the waves of pleasure coursing through their bodies, neither stopped pressing against the other, thrusting their hips to soothe the heat of their throbbing centers.
When it became undeniable that they were being dragged into the void of the climax, their gazes met again and remained locked as pleasure took over their bodies without restraint. One’s gaze fixed on the other’s, looking directly into her being, scrutinizing the deepest recesses of her soul. All while wave after wave of pleasure washed over them completely.
Momo released Jihyo’s leg and let herself fall gently onto her, with half her body on top of the married woman’s, though their legs were still intertwined. Her breathing was ragged, not just from the effort of grinding against the other woman, but also from the adrenaline and the excitement of the orgasm. The plumber watched as Jihyo’s chest rose and fell as she tried to fill her lungs with air, and without a second thought, she reached out to capture one of her breasts with her mouth, giving small sucks and nibbles that made Jihyo moan softly.
The married woman interlaced her fingers with Momo’s hair, and after letting her lick a few times, gently pulled her away from her breast. The plumber didn’t have time to protest because Jihyo pulled her in for a passionate kiss. This time it was she who invaded Momo’s mouth with her tongue to explore its depths and make their tongues battle once more. Suddenly, it no longer mattered that they were trying to catch their breath; all that was on their minds was the need to never part from each other’s lips.
Jihyo let go of Momo’s hair, and Momo took the opportunity to straddle the woman’s abdomen, staining it with her fluids. Jihyo didn’t care; she no longer cared if the plumber’s scent lingered on her body, all the better if it did. All she did was run her hands over Momo’s toned back, tracing the defined muscles with her fingers, feeling them tense and flex under her touch. Always moving downward along a path that inevitably led her to grab, with open, greedy hands, a handful of Momo’s ass.
The plumber moaned into the housewife’s mouth, feeling her core grow wet again despite still recovering from her recent orgasm. Her breasts rubbed against the other’s as they moved to adjust their lips to the kiss they were sharing. Only a few moments had passed, and they were already trying to devour each other again.
Then Momo felt trapped in the claws of a predator. She had entered the room willingly to consummate the illicit act to which she had been invited, and it never crossed her mind that she was walking straight into the lair of a beast. She had already seen in the kitchen just how insatiable Jihyo was, the sheer magnitude of the hunger she felt. Even though Momo was the one who had steered the action in a certain way, it had all happened on Jihyo’s turf. Maybe Momo wasn’t the predator she’d thought at first; maybe this married woman hadn’t fallen from the sky as a reward for her, but was instead using her to sate a hunger her wife was no longer able to satisfy. That was most likely the case, and honestly, Momo couldn’t care less. All of that was worth it for the pleasure that was setting her body ablaze. At the end the vampire was just a poor bat blinded by the incandesce of Jihyo's lust.
Momo was in Jihyo's claws and that was how being gently Jihyo moved Momo’s body, and Momo let her do whatever she wanted without protesting; it was already too late to start complaining. Soon the plumber found herself lying on her back with her head resting on the pillows and her thighs spread apart. Jihyo was beside her, but their bodies weren’t at the same level. She had broken the kiss to position herself slightly higher than Momo, and instead of her lips, she offered one of her breasts, which Momo accepted willingly.
Now the tables had completely turned from how things had been in the kitchen. Even though Momo had one of Jihyo’s breasts in her mouth, it was Jihyo who was now in control of the situation. It was her hand that wandered down Momo’s thigh, caressing her skin, sending shivers wherever it went despite the heat radiating from her fingers. That hand felt like a silent promise yet to come; both knew what the final destination was, but neither said a word. Momo simply lay there, sucking on the breast that had been placed in her mouth, while Jihyo traced patterns on the inner side of her thigh.
It was all part of the game, of how Jihyo had let herself fall into the plumber’s arms and was now taking control. Her hand moved slowly but surely toward Momo’s center, feeling the heat radiating from the anticipation of not knowing when the inevitable was finally going to happen. Then Jihyo’s fingers finally reached the woman’s wet folds, sending a small shiver through her body as she closed her eyes to withdraw from this world and surrender herself completely to Jihyo’s hands.
For some reason, Momo thought the woman would be rougher with her, that now that she was completely in control and Momo had surrendered so passively to her caresses, she would show her no mercy. But quite the opposite; her touch was gentle, gentle yet determined. Jihyo didn’t hesitate for a moment as her fingers caressed Momo’s folds, soaking up in her love juices and spreading them across her center. Doing whatever she wanted with the plumber’s vulva.
When it all began, Momo had pounced on the woman like an animal in heat, but now she lay like a kitten in Jihyo’s arms. Her moans were muffled by the breast in her mouth, and her folds were being explored by an expert hand. Her hips moved almost of their own accord, and Jihyo immediately withdrew her hand, making it absolutely clear who was in control, who was setting the pace here. Momo had no choice but to focus on sucking while the hand resumed its mischief on her throbbing center.
Jihyo’s new target was Momo’s swollen lips. She caressed them, drawing out more muffled moans. She traced them with her fingertips and rubbed them, playing with them as she felt her owner melt in her hands. Then she found her clitoris and attacked it too, rolling it gently between her fingers, taking care not to overwhelm Momo with the caresses she was bestowing upon her.
Even though the plumber was soaking wet, Jihyo brought her fingers to her mouth, more to taste Momo’s nectar than to add saliva. She was sure that the Momo’s own wetness would be enough for what she had in mind, so she focused on savoring her nectar and swallowing it all, hungrily cleaning up every last trace of her essence, using her tongue to trace between her fingers and leave nothing behind.
One of Jihyo’s hands caressed Momo’s hair, occasionally brushing across her forehead, while the other, without any shame, returned to rubbing her cunt. This time, just two fingers slid between her folds, drawing circles and applying pressure, masturbating Momo in a delicious way. With expert, precise movements, as if she knew her lover’s anatomy perfectly, she stimulated her until her fingers were once again soaked in her nectar, drenched in her essence. Then, without warning, and while her other hand gently caressed the woman’s forehead, Jihyo pressed those same two fingers into the opening of her center and invaded Momo’s pussy.
The inside of the plumber’s pussy felt velvety, with a warmth that welcomed Jihyo’s intruding fingers, making them feel right at home. Momo clung tighter to the nipple in her mouth because it was the only thing left for her to do. Just as Jihyo had spread her legs in the kitchen so Momo could eat her out, now Momo had to play her part and spread her legs so the married woman could try to even the score of orgasms.
“Try,” as if Momo weren’t already melting from the heat spreading from her core and coursing through her entire body. Jihyo’s fingers spread apart inside her and probed her depths, caressing her walls. Filling her up and then closing in, so her pussy would never get used to the stimulation it was receiving. By the time Jihyo started literally fucking Momo’s cunt with her hand, Momo had already become a whimpering mess. Nothing remained of the resolve and determination she’d shown in the kitchen; now she simply lay in a married couple’s bed, a marriage she wasn’t a part of, while Jihyo cheated on her wife with her. “While she’s using me to be unfaithful,” Momo told herself, but what does it matter if being used feels this good? Maybe Momo wouldn’t mind if Jihyo used her a few more times if she took care of her this well again.
The plumber’s moans were muffled by Jihyo’s breast, but her body was making another sound; or rather, both of them were. The fingers felt so good inside her, giving her so much pleasure, that her center was completely soaked and now squelched with every thrust of Jihyo’s fingers. The woman was truly doing whatever she wanted with her. Giving her relentless pleasure while caressing her forehead with her other hand to calm her down. A duality of sensations that was driving Momo absolutely insane.
As Jihyo spread her fingers while continuing her relentless assault on Momo’s pussy, the pleasure Momo was receiving reached a new peak. Then she had the brilliant idea of using her thumb to caress Momo's clit while her fingers continued going back and forth. With this last action the inevitable didn’t take long to happen, and when Momo could no longer process the sensations invading her body, she exploded. She literally exploded, shooting a stream of fluids from her cunt as her body trembled.
Jihyo held her in place but didn’t stop giving her pleasure. In a way that was now somewhat torturous, she continued fucking Momo, causing her fluids to splash everywhere. She didn’t care that her forearm or the sheets were getting even more stained, that they were becoming more deeply imbued with the plumber’s essence. Faced with that, Momo was unable to keep clinging to the breast she had in her mouth, and now, free of all restraint, her moans echoed unabashedly as she melted in pleasure. Something totally unimaginable when Momo walked through the door of the house to simply repair the sink.
When Jihyo’s fingers slipped out of Momo’s center with a squelching sound, a final shudder ran through her. A moan, almost a cry of protest for the emptiness, escaped her lips. Her body had endured so much in such a short time that she simply collapsed. As Jihyo continued stroking her forehead and whispering something she couldn’t quite make out, Momo fell asleep.
The next time Momo opened her eyes, it took her a moment to remember where she was and what had happened. She almost felt bad for falling asleep like that after staining Jihyo’s bed, but no one could blame her for that after the way Jihyo had made her feel. When she finally came to her full senses, she realized she was still in bed, in the exact same spot where she’d fallen asleep, but Jihyo had slipped a towel under her so her body wouldn’t be in contact with the stained sheets while she slept.
Jihyo was there too, right in front of her. Lying on her side, looking at Momo, with her hair pulled back in a bun and a cigarette between her fingers. The smoke hid her features for a second as it escaped her nose, but then it drifted gently toward the window, which was now open. Momo snatched the cigarette from between her fingers and took a drag before handing it back to her. Instead of taking it, Jihyo leaned in to kiss Momo but stopped when her lips were almost pressed against the other woman’s; then they passed the smoke from one mouth to the other as if Jihyo were sucking Momo’s soul out. Maybe that’s what it really was.
“How long did I sleep?” Momo asked, stretching.
“A little over half an hour.” Jihyo handed the cigarette to Momo, and this time she smoked it properly. “You were sleeping so deeply that you didn’t even wake up when I put the towel on you.”
“Thanks for that. It’s been so long since I came like that.” Momo let the words slip out, a little embarrassed for the way she exploded and drenched Jihyo and her bed. Her cheeks turned red but she ignored it and instead rolled over to lie on her back and stare at the ceiling.
“Hey.” Jihyo took her hand. “It’s the least I can do for you.” Momo’s heart skipped a beat when their fingers intertwined and Jihyo lay down beside her, leaving the cigarette forgotten in the ashtray on the nightstand. “Maybe we should do this more often.”
“Just hope the neighbors don’t see us. I wouldn’t know how to explain to them that I go out with a toolbox only to turn around and knock on the door.” Momo wrinkled her nose in an amused gesture.
“We’ll figure something out if that happens.” Jihyo rested her head on Momo’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around her waist. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“Next time I can be a pizza delivery girl, or, or…” Momo wasn’t able to finish that sentence because Jihyo kissed her gently on the lips.
“Looks like you really enjoyed it.”
“It was a good experience.” Momo let out a sigh before continuing. “I never thought playing like that would be so much fun.”
“We should thank Nayeon for the suggestion.” Momo shuddered slightly when Jihyo said the name of their relationship counselor, but other than that, she didn’t react. “We’re going to get through this,” Jihyo said after a moment of silence. “Therapy is going well. We have a new house in a new neighborhood, and we have each other.”
The truth was, the house wasn’t new at all. It was old and in need of many repairs, just like their marriage. But the foundation was solid, and they both had the will to set aside their differences and work together to fix it; again just like their marriage. As Jihyo said, therapy was improving things between them, and this little role-playing game had helped them forget the constant fights and the cutting remarks they’d gotten used to hurling at each other during the worst part of their relationship. Now, just like the house, their marriage was blossoming again.
“We should take a bath.” Jihyo stood up, pulling Momo with her. “We need it.”
“We should also go out for lunch somewhere nice.” They hugged each other at the foot of their bed. “Maybe you could wear that dress again…”
“Forget it.” Jihyo planted little kisses on her wife’s lips. “It’s too low-cut; I feel like my boobs are going to pop out at any moment.”
Momo laughed at the image that had formed in her mind, but instead of saying something obscene that would surely have earned her a scolding from Jihyo, she simply grabbed her by the butt and lifted her off the floor. Her wife caught on and helped by taking a little hop, ending up wrapping her legs around her wife’s waist and clinging to her neck with her arms.
“We’re going to be okay,” Momo whispered as she walked toward the bathroom carrying her wife in her arms.
Tags: Winayeon, Anal Fingering, blowjob, Girl Penis, Porn Without Plot, Riming, Abuse of Authority, Mildly Dubious Consent, age gap.
A/N: So since Winayeon is now a thing I just decided to come back with a second part for this filthy story. This chapter is just pure sex and nothing more.
Please be aware that Minjeong want to be there, but that doesn't mean Nayeon isn´t taking advantage of her position of power.
Minjeong sighed once more before pushing open the door to the professor’s office. Only someone as stupid as her could have ended up in a situation like this, in a position she didn’t need to be in but had put herself in. It had been a stupid decision to take Advanced Chemistry, especially considering that the improvement in her grades last semester hadn’t exactly been due to her academic performance.
Getting those grades had cost her a pain in the ass, literally, very literally. But even so, she had decided to put herself in danger once again by taking a class she no longer needed; Advanced Chemistry wasn’t a requirement for her major. Anyway, she managed to juggle it with the courses she actually had to take that semester and signed up once again for Professor Nayeon’s class.
Actually, there were other professors who taught that class, but Minjeong was sure that as soon as the head of the Chemistry Department saw her name among the new semester’s students, she would immediately place her in her class. What she hadn’t expected at all was to end up as Nayeon’s teaching assistant; that took her completely by surprise.
A couple of weeks after the semester began, Nayeon had called her into her office. Not knowing what to think, Minjeong went only to find, to her surprise, that Nayeon wanted her to be her assistant; or rather, that she was going to force her to be one. With a couple of threats to fail her if she didn’t accept, and some other forms of blackmail, Minjeong had no choice but to become the assistant to the head of the chemistry department.
Now she walked into Nayeon’s office without even knocking. She simply pushed the door open, holding the stack of papers firmly in one arm, while her backpack hung from the other shoulder. Nayeon barely looked up from her computer when she heard the door; somehow she knew without looking that it was the girl who had entered.
“Did you finish handing out the guides I asked you for?” she asked indifferently as she pounded on the keyboard, entering data into the computer.
“Yes, everyone got theirs.” The girl walked over to a shelf next to the desk and set down the stack of papers she’d been carrying. More out of surprise than at the audacity of the act, Minjeong nearly stumbled into the shelf when she felt Nayeon’s hand grab her buttock. Looking up at her professor, she realized the woman was still typing with her other hand, barely paying her any attention.
“Do something useful and lock the door while I finish writing.” Nayeon let go of her buttock and went back to writing with both hands. “Now I need you naked from the waist down,” she added casually when she heard the click of the lock.
“I thought you were going to tutor me today.” Minjeong pouted, but Nayeon paid her absolutely no attention. The truth was that Minjeong had managed to get something good out of this deal she’d been forced to accept, and she’d convinced Nayeon to give her private lessons once a week. It was the only way she could keep up with regular classes because advanced chemistry had turned out to be very difficult for her. Which was normal, considering she’d spent almost the entire last semester whispering with Yizhuo at the back of the classroom instead of paying attention to what Nayeon was explaining. That was exactly what had led her to this situation.
"Not today, I want to do something different today."
“But we’re supposed to have a test in two weeks.” Minjeong didn’t budge an inch from where she was standing. “I want to prepare properly.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Nayeon brushed off the girl’s complaints without taking her eyes off the computer. "You can retake it in my office later, or I can adjust your grade. Now take your clothes off; I don’t have all day.” She gestured impatiently with her hand.
Unable to believe what she’d just heard, Minjeong sighed and began unzipping her shorts. She’d have to add that to the long list of transgressions Nayeon had committed for the sole purpose of keeping her close. In the months that had passed since the start of the semester, Minjeong had become her professor’s sex toy. It didn’t take long after the girl agreed to be the professor’s assistant for her to reveal her true intentions, and the scene they’d experienced at the end of last semester repeated itself, over and over and over again, until Minjeong had lost count of how many times it had happened. Exactly what she was looking for when she signed up for this class, whether she admits it or not.
Wondering what her professor would make her do today, Minjeong did as she was told and took off her shorts and then her boxers. When she was done, she left them in a corner next to her backpack and went to stand next to Nayeon, who continued typing on the computer, indifferent to her presence.
After a long minute, Nayeon finally looked up from the computer to glance at the student. Licking her lips and with lust in her eyes, she grabbed her by the hips, resting her large hands on the girl’s body, which made her shiver with pure anticipation. “So obedient.” Nayeon smiled to herself.
These were the seconds when Minjeong didn’t know what would become of her, like the calm before the storm. Nayeon watched her for a few moments before deciding what to do, what today’s torture would be. When she had made a decision, she stood up, and to Minjeong’s disappointment, she let go of her hips.
“I Think I already know what we're going to do today.” The professor took a step forward, causing Minjeong to step back, and then another so that the girl was trapped between the desk and the woman. “Do you want to know?”
Without waiting for a reply, Nayeon pushed her toward the desk, and of course she didn’t try to stop her, nor did she resist when her thighs touched the edge of the desk and Nayeon gave her another gentle nudge on the shoulders. Minjeong did nothing to prevent her professor from lifting her onto the desk and placing her on a section that was strangely free of papers or decorations, almost as if it were a spot meant to be occupied by Minjeong.
The girl found herself lying on the desk, naked from the waist down, wearing only her sneakers and shirt. Which, of course, offered no coverage for her private parts. In what had already become a habit, once again Minjeong was completely at Nayeon’s mercy. This was emphasized even more when Nayeon used her legs to spread Minjeong’s apart.
The professor’s long fingers traced the girl’s thighs, giving her goosebumps wherever they touched. Despite her apparent habit of being subjected to the woman’s inappropriate caresses and touches, Minjeong still got nervous. The door was locked, that was true, and if anyone tried to enter the office, she could always grab her things and run to the bathroom to fix herself up. No one would suspect that the professor’s assistant was in her office. Still, the older woman’s caresses continued to make her nervous; no matter how many times she felt them on her skin, she could never be sure where she would be touched next or what the professor would do to her.
“Why so nervous? Relax, I’m not going to do anything to you that you don’t like…” Nayeon let her words hang in the air as she grabbed the girl by the back of her thighs and lifted her legs. “Your pathetic little thing is already hard.” The taunt was accompanied by a light tap of a finger on Minjeong’s member, which, despite everything, was painfully erect.
“L-l-let me up—” The girl’s words trailed off as Nayeon pulled her so her ass was hanging off the desk.
“Hold your legs for me.” Nayeon ordered, bending Minjeong’s legs to bring her knees closer to her face. She obeyed without objection, placing herself in an even more humiliating position.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” Nayeon seemed to say that more to herself than to her student, as if she were thinking out loud rather than trying to communicate something. Minjeong thought about asking what it was she wanted to try, what today’s delicious torture would be, but before she could formulate the question, she felt Nayeon spread her buttocks and bury her face in her ass.
The next thing the girl felt was her professor’s warm, wet tongue sliding along the crack of her ass. A shiver ran through her as she felt Nayeon slowly licking her anus, as her professor took her time exploring every corner of her sensitive back entrance. Minjeong had to press her lips together because she had already learned that she wasn’t supposed to make any noise, at least not too much, and that if she went beyond what was allowed, she’d end up with Nayeon’s underwear stuffed in her mouth. It wasn’t that she didn’t like that; in fact, on more than one occasion, she had moaned louder than she should have just to tease Nayeon.
The girl shook her head to banish those thoughts from her mind, as if that would erase the fact that even though Nayeon was clearly abusing her status and position of power, she was enjoying this too. As pathetic as it seemed, there was something incredibly exciting about letting the older woman do whatever she wanted with her, and hearing the humiliating words she directed at her, especially about the size of her penis, stirred something deep within her. Something she wasn’t willing to admit, but which she clearly enjoyed immensely.
There was no point in denying it when she herself, without any pressure, had signed up for a class she didn’t need and had agreed to be her professor’s assistant. She had backed herself into a corner knowing that Nayeon was the one wielding the sword, and now she couldn’t escape this situation even if she wanted to. Which, in reality, she didn’t want to.
Nayeon’s expertise in sucking Minjeong’s ass was incredible; she clearly had a lot of experience with this. Her tongue traced circles around her entrance and gently pressed against her sphincter, never using too much force, only threatening an intrusion that never came. But she didn’t stop there; Nayeon also sealed her lips around her anus from time to time and sucked, making Minjeon feel like she was in heaven. The things the professor could do with her mouth were incredible and made Minjeong wonder where she had learned to do that, whether she was the first student to find herself in this situation with Nayeon or if those rumors were true.
“God. Your ass tastes so good.” The professor’s face was somewhat hidden by the angle and by the girl´s own cock, but Minjeon caught a glimpse of the woman licking her lips, savoring the taste of her back entrance. Then she spread her buttocks and spat directly into her anus, perhaps the most obscene act she’d seen her do so far. And that, in fact, was a long list of obscenities that she had witnesses her professor do Minjeong couldn’t take it anymore and moaned softly, which earned her a disapproving look from Nayeon.
“I’m sorry.” She apologized, feeling her cheeks burn. “I couldn’t help it.”
“Control yourself, or you know what will happen.” Maybe it was worth letting herself go just to be punished. It was a good way to find out if Nayeon was enjoying this as much as she was. If she shoved her panties into her mouth, Minjeong would know for sure just how wet her professor was, but she decided it was better not to provoke her any further for now.
The girl’s small, wrinkled anus throbbed with a life of its own as her professor’s tongue resumed its caresses, carelessly spreading her spit everywhere. Nayeon sucked on her ass, giving it her all to enjoy it, not caring that her forehead was pressed against Minjeong’s balls or that her face was rubbing against the girl’s ass. Somehow that made this feel more like a reward than abuse.
The blatant obscenity with which her professor explored her back entrance obviously made her cock throb uncontrollably, completely neglected and crying out for caresses. But Minjeong wouldn’t for the world stop holding her legs or pleasure herself when Nayeon hadn’t given the order; past experiences told her that wasn’t allowed for her. That despite how much she enjoyed it all, she was her professor’s toy; something she wasn’t proud of enjoying as much as she did.
“If you behaved, I’ll give you a reward.” Minjeong heard her professor’s promise between slurps and moans and pressed her lips together tighter. What could Nayeon give her that would feel more like a reward than having her tongue pressing against her anus? Minjeong couldn’t think of anything else right now, largely because she was putting all her strength into not moaning like crazy. The obscenities her professor was doing to her were so delicious they were frying her brain.
When she felt the warm tongue leave her anus, the girl almost protested, but she managed to remember in time who was in charge of the situation. Still, she let out a sigh when she felt the tongue move upward, tracing circles across her perineum, and ended up giving her scrotum a long lick. What came next made her moan without a shred of remorse; nothing in the world could have made her suppress the beautiful, pathetic sound that escaped her mouth when Nayeon closed her lips over her scrotum and sucked her balls.
“Shhhhhhh!!” The professor silenced her, as if Minjeong didn’t know she’d broken the golden rule. “I told you to behave.” Without waiting for any response from her student, Nayeon plunged her face back between the girl’s legs to play with her balls, sucking one while caressing her thighs or grabbing her buttocks with both hands.
Having Nayeon eat her ass like that had been wonderful, but the way she sucked her balls and caressed her thighs was on another level. As much as she loved feeling her professor’s warm tongue exploring the deepest recesses of her anus, having both her balls sucked at the same time was something she had never experienced before.
Right now, with both of Minjeong’s balls stuffed in her mouth, Nayeon probably looked like a squirrel with its mouth full of nuts. The way she sucked on the balls didn’t stop her from using her tongue to caress them, making the girl’s heart skip a beat at the wave of new sensations flooding over her. She could hardly imagine that this was only the beginning.
No matter how many times it happened, Minjeong couldn’t get used to having Nayeon’s large hands playing with her dick. The sheer difference in size drove her wild. It was something that caused a short circuit in her brain because it always came after her professor had spent some time with her, never before. Nayeon never touched Minjeong directly there; she always made sure to grope her body and tease her about how small her penis was. The girl would never forget that time a few months ago when Nayeon jerked her off in front of the bathroom mirror, while complaining about Minjeong’s size. The professor simply covered her mouth with her hand while forcing her to watch as she masturbated her.
Despite that whole experience, Minjeong still found it fascinating how her professor’s long fingers gently gripped her throbbing member and wrapped around her meat to masturbate her. This time, that was accompanied by Nayeon’s tongue caressing her scrotum and occasionally sliding down to lick her anus, so the girl was using all her strength to keep from moaning uncontrollably.
The dual sensation of Nayeon’s fingers on her member and her tongue caressing her balls was driving Minjeong wild. It was more than she was used to receiving; it was more than any sexual partner had ever made her feel before. Nayeon was, by a wide margin, the most experienced person she had ever been with. The way she sucked on her balls and stroked her shaft at irregular intervals to maximize the sensations made that clear. Only a truly experienced person could do that as well as Nayeon was doing it; only someone with her expertise could elicit those delicious sounds that Minjeong was trying so hard to stifle.
Then the girl couldn’t take it anymore. When Nayeon gripped her shaft, wrapping her thumb around the base and the back near the head, while also pressing her tongue against Minjeong’s anus to penetrate her just a little, the student could no longer hold back and let out a long, plaintive moan that echoed throughout the room.
“Enough.” Nayeon’s tone was clearly annoyed, something Minjeong couldn’t quite understand because she had moaned because of Nayeon. If her professor didn’t want her to make noise, then she shouldn’t have done those things that felt so good, but deep down the girl knew that Nayeon was doing it on purpose to torture her.
“Bu-but… But.” Minjeong knew what was coming because she was well aware she had earned it. With her eyes wide open, she watched as her professor stood up, reached under her skirt, and slid her underwear down her legs. Still holding her own legs, Minjeong opened her mouth to receive Nayeon’s thong. As if it were routine, the woman positioned the used garment in the girl’s mouth, pushing it in with her long fingers.
Instantly, the taste of her professor filled Minjeong’s mouth, confirming that her crotch had indeed grown wet as a result of the abuse she was inflicting on her student´s private parts. On the other hand, the girl could now afford to make a little more noise, since the garment would muffle her moans as long as she didn’t get too loud.
Nayeon knelt down again and buried her face between the student’s buttocks, giving her a long lick from her anus to the base of her penis, which she gripped the same way she had before. Muffled moans escaped Minjeong’s mouth as her professor began to masturbate her, moving her hand slowly while continuing to lick her scrotum.
It wasn’t as if the girl were an expert in the delicate art of ass-licking, but in her opinion, Nayeon was using more saliva than necessary. The space between her buttocks was completely soaked in Nayeon’s saliva, and more droplets were running down from her balls. When another spit landed right on her anus and Nayeon then spread it using her fingers, Minjeong had a hunch as to why she was using so much saliva. Confirmation of that suspicion wasn’t long in coming.
Drawing circles with two of her long fingers over the girl’s rear entrance, Nayeon began to apply pressure. Gradually increasing the force with which she pressed against the delicate sphincter, she was always careful not to neglect the girl’s balls or cock. Minjeong’s anus practically began to throb with anticipation because she knew very well what was about to come.
With the ease that months of practice had given her, Nayeon pushed her fingers against Minjeong’s rear entrance, which opened instantly to welcome those intruding fingers. Since that afternoon at the end of last semester when Nayeon had taken advantage of her for the first time, Minjeong had found herself in this very situation many times. On the desk, lying across her professor’s lap, against the office door, or even leaning against the bathroom sink, Minjeong had felt those same fingers inside her countless times. So much so that it was no longer a challenge for her to accommodate two of those fingers in her ass.
Of course, the pleasure from the stimulation was still there. It was impossible for her cock not to twitch on its own and start dripping when Nayeon stretched her ass so deliciously. Her breathing quickened and her heart pounded as if she’d run a kilometer every time Nayeon pushed her fingers inside her.
As if it were second nature to her, the professor pushed her fingers in until they were completely buried inside Minjeong’s ass. That familiar feeling of fullness washed over her, spreading a gentle warmth throughout her body and making her balls start to feel heavy.
“Your pathetic cock got so hard, and I only put two fingers in you.” The constant taunts were an important part of the spell Nayeon had cast on her student. Somehow, hearing her insults, taunts, and giggles had the opposite effect on Minjeong. Maybe she had simply become depraved, or maybe Nayeon had conditioned her to such an extent that now Minjeong couldn’t conceive of sex without that teasing. It was all part of that strange, twisted professor-student relationship they had unwittingly formed.
It pained Minjeong to admit it, but leaving her professor’s office with a sore ass and empty balls had become her favorite form of pleasure. Even on those rare occasions when she’d hooked up with a girl she’d just met at a party, Minjeong had had to rely on her imagination to have a pleasurable encounter. In the end, Nayeon always came to mind, which was equally pathetic and worrying.
In the girl’s opinion, no one could blame her for that. Nayeon was a beautiful, intelligent, fiery woman; by far the most sought-after single woman on campus, and it was Minjeong who enjoyed her caresses and humiliating words. When she thought about that, she felt on top of the world, even though they were nothing more than student and professor. The fact that she had become her professor’s plaything made her feel special, noticed, and above all, completely sexually satisfied.
Minjeong had even accepted the fact that Nayeon wouldn’t let her fuck her with her cock; all she could do was give her oral sex and occasionally include her fingers in the mix. Which showed just how deeply she had fallen under the older woman’s spell.
“Mmfdgdf mmnnn.” Minjeong unconsciously tried to respond to Nayeon’s latest taunt, but could only manage a few incoherent noises. The thong in her mouth not only prevented her moans from getting out of control, but also kept her from speaking.
“Do you want another finger?” The question itself was stupid; they both knew it. Of course Minjeong wanted Nayeon to stick another finger in her ass; the woman knew that very well. From day one, she had tested the limits of the student’s sphincter and had made sure to get her hooked on having her fingers inside. “It’s a shame I’m not going to do it.” Nayeon put on a feigned tone of regret, trying to pretend she felt bad for offering Minjeong something and then denying it to her, which was completely normal for her. But Nayeon knew that if she stuck another finger in right now, Minjeong would come immediately, and she had other plans for the girl.
The professor let go of the girl’s cock and instead licked it from the base to the tip. She swirled her tongue around the sensitive tip before sealing her lips over Minjeong’s throbbing member. The student had to fight the urge to cum right then and there as she felt her professor’s warm mouth engulf her cock. Blowjobs were a reward Nayeon reserved for special days, when she was in a good mood or Minjeong did something especially well. Today seemed to be the first reason.
Just as she had sucked her balls earlier, Nayeon now sucked her cock, which throbbed hard and swollen inside her mouth. Moving her head up and down, she swallowed Minjeong’s shaft whole as if it were nothing.
The professor’s free hand slid up Minjeong’s thigh until it rested on her hand. Not to offer any comfort, but to have a foothold. Even between their hands, the difference in size was all too obvious. Nayeon’s fingers easily covered the girl’s, encircling her hand and conveying a warmth that was beyond the woman’s intentions.
Then Nayeon spread the fingers she had inside her student, stretching her ass in a delicious way. She increased the intensity of her blowjob, and at the most unexpected moment, she swallowed the entire cock, all the way to the base, even trying to take in her balls. Minjeong couldn’t take it anymore. Even if she earned a scolding for it, she let herself go, letting the pleasure take complete control of her body.
Her anus clenched tightly around the intruding fingers, while her balls emptied their contents into Nayeon’s mouth. She didn’t try to stop it or pull away; she simply kept sucking as Minjeong spilled more and more of her semen into her warm mouth until her balls were completely empty.
The professor curled her fingers to caress the inside of Minjeong while she continued to suck greedily, making sure her balls were completely emptied, not wanting to miss a single drop of her favorite student’s precious semen. When she was sure there was nothing left, that she had practically milked the girl dry, Nayeon removed her fingers and pulled the member out of her mouth. With a loud pop! Minjeong’s cock was free again.
With the brazenness and obscenity that characterized her when they were alone, Nayeon stood up to look the girl straight in the eyes. With her mouth full of semen and without wasting a single drop, Nayeon swallowed it all, never taking her eyes off Minjeong and making a slurping sound as she swallowed. When there was nothing left, the woman opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue so the student could see that she had indeed swallowed it all.
“At least your little thing doesn't stop you from coming properly,” Nayeon said, licking her lips. “You can let go of your legs now.” she added, gently patting the girl's thigh.
With permission granted, Minjeong let her legs dangle over the edge of the desk, her toes grazing the floor. As usual, she spat out the thong and used it to wipe her private parts. She knew it was her duty to take that thong home and return it to her professor completely clean and free of any fluids. That was practically just another task in her role as an assistant.
“No, no. I said you could let your legs hang down, not that you could stand up.” With a gentle nudge on the shoulder, Nayeon reminded the girl which of the two was in charge when she tried to sit up on the desk. “Lie back down. We’re not done yet.”
Fearing for the integrity of her butt, Minjeong lay back down on the desk, which over all these months had proven just how sturdy it was. The girl had long since lost count of how many times she’d ended up lying or bent over that very same desk.
Luckily, her fears about the state of her asshole and whether it could handle another round turned out to be unfounded. Nayeon grabbed her by the armpits and pulled her so her shoulders were on the edge of the desk and her head was hanging down. Completely at her professor’s mercy, Minjeong didn’t protest, as usual; she simply let herself be manipulated as if she were a doll of enormous proportions.
“Since you behaved yourself, you deserve a reward.” Nayeon’s tone was sarcastic. That almost childish, playful tone she used when she was truly enjoying something, not the fake tone she put on when teasing Minjeong. Something totally unbecoming of a college professor, especially considering she was the head of a department.
Minjeong didn’t know what the reward was, but she hoped it would be a kiss. No, Minjeong didn’t like her professor, at least not romantically. She was well aware that Nayeon was only using her for her own pleasure, like a toy, and that every now and then she made sure the girl had a good time too. But a kiss would be quite comforting right now.
She felt languid after the orgasm she’d had. Even though she’d only held her legs, the girl felt tired, perhaps overwhelmed by everything Nayeon had made her feel. Her day had been long, which didn’t help make her feel any better either. Maybe a kiss and going to sleep were the best things she could do right now.
On one occasion when Minjeong had performed oral sex on her and given her professor a particularly pleasurable orgasm, she was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek. To her embarrassment, she came right then and there, staining her underwear, and Nayeon sent her home just like that between laughs and jokes.
The sound of a zipper opening and clothing sliding against skin brought Minjeong back to reality. Next to her, her professor was taking off her skirt, leaving her just as naked as the student.
Still in her heels, Nayeon grabbed the girl by the back of the neck as she pressed her crotch against her. Minjeong’s face was just a few centimeters from her professor’s pussy, which was indeed quite wet. Amid a surge of pride at having made her wet like that, Minjeong watched her professor close the small distance between them. She opened her mouth instinctively and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the delicious scent of Nayeon’s arousal.
Her professor’s nectar was another delicacy worthy of being devoured. Not just her pussy, but her fluids as well. The taste of arousal flooded Minjeong’s mouth and made her shudder. The languor in her limbs gave way to renewed energy, and with more audacity than perhaps she should have, she clung to Nayeon’s thighs.
The woman pressed herself against her, beginning to grind her crotch against the girl’s face, who licked her professor’s slit in search of more of her fluids. Minjeong’s lips sealed over the woman’s cunt, sucking on her soaked folds, exploring them with her tongue. Licking and tracing the contours of her opening with her tongue, she eagerly drank Nayeon’s nectar.
Having her face fucked like that was almost like medieval torture. Stretched out on the desk with her head firmly held between her professor’s legs, Minjeong did everything she could to satisfy the woman. Although in reality all she had to do was open her mouth and let Nayeon grind against her, her hunger got the better of her and made her lick greedily, pushing her tongue as deep as she could into the woman’s slit.
If before it had been Minjeong who had had to control her moans, now it was Nayeon who was in that position. The student’s tongue working against her core and her lips sealed over her folds offered her a delicious stimulation. It felt so much better than masturbating with her hand or using a toy, even though in reality Minjeong had become the older woman’s toy. The student had voluntarily given herself to her, and now she wasn’t allowed to escape. Nayeon would continue to tease, humiliate, and do whatever she wanted with Minjeong for as long as she could. Until the day of her graduation, Minjeong was hers.
Nayeon held back as much as she could so as not to make a sound. Rubbing her pussy against the girl’s face while the girl’s face was turned toward the ceiling, her eyes closed and her mouth open in a silent moan. Of course she wasn’t going to gag herself with her own underwear, much less the girl’s, that was reserved only for Minjeong. Nayeon was free to do whatever she wanted, to moan in her office or let out gasps of pleasure. In reality, it was unlikely anyone outside would hear her. The building was old, the walls thick, and her office door sturdy and heavy. As long as she kept the volume at a reasonable level, there was no real risk of being overheard, but Minjeong didn’t know that. The professor simply used it as an excuse to keep shoving her dirty underwear into the girl’s mouth. It was something that amused her.
No matter how much the girl wanted to swallow it all, her hip movements caused Nayeon’s nectar to splatter all over her face, turning it into a mess. Almost like a child who still doesn’t know how to eat. Despite the skills she had honed over the past few months. or perhaps because of them, her face was completely smeared, a thin layer of fluid covering part of it.
Her greedy hands clung to Nayeon’s thighs, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to move. If anything, it had the opposite effect, because Nayeon let go of the back of her neck and instead leaned against the girl’s chest, resting her large hands on Minjeong’s breasts. The new position gave her better balance and a better foothold so she could grind her cunt harder.
At least the professor still had the decency to try not to make too much noise. Biting her lower lip or panting heavily, Nayeon kept her moans from getting out of control. Maybe next time she should find a better position where she could suck Minjeong’s cock while the girl ate her pussy. Having her mouth full would always be the best option for muffing her moans right now. But Nayeon didn’t have time to think about that now; she was more focused on how, despite the movement, the girl was trying to lick her clit. A bold move that Nayeon appreciated.
For her part, the girl’s neck ached from the position she was in, and her breasts hurt because Nayeon was leaning her weight on them, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to suck and lick like crazy. Right now, her duty was to eat Nayeon’s pussy, and she was going to do it as well as she could. It didn’t matter if her neck hurt or if she had trouble breathing because her nose was buried between the woman’s buttocks; the only thing that mattered now was sucking, licking, and slurping.
Nayeon’s nectar was intoxicating, a potion that solidified the spell the older woman had over the girl. Minjeong couldn’t stop eating the delicious cunt that had been placed in her mouth, and in turn, Nayeon couldn’t stop grinding against the girl’s mouth and moaning softly. She felt her heart racing faster and faster, felt the undeniable heat between her legs growing, and that electric sensation spreading throughout her body.
Squeezing the girl’s breasts so hard it made her moan between her legs, Nayeon came. The orgasm took hold of her, making her body tremble and making it almost impossible for her to keep her moans quiet. Summoning all her strength, she managed to control herself and avoid making a scene that would be heard outside her office.
Between gasps, she had to make Minjeong let go of her thighs so she could pull away, because the girl kept licking her pussy. She even gave her one last lick as the professor pulled away, stretching her tongue as wide as possible, creating a thin thread of saliva connecting them until Nayeon had moved far enough away.
“You’ve been especially good today,” Nayeon managed to say as she tried to catch her breath.
“Thanks, professor—” The girl stopped mid-sentence because, even though her legs were still trembling a little, Nayeon leaned in to plant a kiss on her forehead. It was unusual for her, which made the girl blush and let out a gasp.
“Now clean yourself up and get dressed. I need my desk to keep working.” Nayeon stroked her cheek as she gave her another kiss on the forehead. Only then did Minjeong realize that without any intervention from her professor, without a caress or any stimulation on her dick, she had come. The sheer satisfaction of eating the older woman’s cunt had made her hard again and caused her to ejaculate on herself. Now the girl’s abdomen was stained with her own semen.
“Pathetic,” the woman added, as if she’d suddenly remembered just how much she enjoyed teasing the girl.
By the time Minjeong climbed down from the desk, the professor had already put her skirt back on, so the girl couldn’t see the marks she’d left on her thighs from clinging so tightly to her. But she could hear the taunts the professor hurled at her for having come without even being touched, and the usual humiliating comments about the size of her penis.
With her cheeks burning, Minjeong decided it was best to clean up and get dressed in the bathroom, away from her professor’s stares and taunts. Away from the woman who used her however she wanted and then kicked her out of her office when she’d grown tired of her, but who, despite everything, kept a towel in her bathroom for Minjeong to use when her dirty panties weren’t enough to clean herself. The girl knew that somehow, despite treating her like a disposable toy, Nayeon felt some affection for her. After all, Minjeong wasn’t just a toy to her professor, she was her favorite toy.
Tags: Minayeon (?), smut, sex toys, BDSM, spanking, inappropriate use of ice cube, some other dirty things.
A/N: Took me a whole freaking year to write this, mostly because for the big majority of that time this story was sitting in my drafts, not because I was actually working on it.
Baby, I'm not even mad at you. It's my attitude
“Are you going to behave?” The sound of the crop cut through the air like thunder without lightning, and landed with a sharp crack on Mina’s buttock. “Answer when I ask you a question.” That was completely unwarranted, because Nayeon didn’t even wait for Mina to answer; the crop moved before she could process the question she’d been asked.
“Yes, yes.” Mina’s body trembled as the crop fell on her butt again, this time on the opposite cheek. She met it with whimpers as another red mark formed on her skin, mirroring the one on her other butt cheek.
“Yes what? Yes, I’ll answer you? Or yes, I’ll behave myself? You have to be more specific.” Nayeon tapped her hand with the handle of the crop to emphasize each “yes” she said, as she walked in circles behind Mina.
“Yes, yes to both. I’ll behave myself and I’ll answer you when you ask me something.” Mina resisted the urge to run and find something cold to put on her butt to ease the pain she felt on her skin. The burning sensation from the lashes was spreading all over her butt, in a way that wasn’t just painful.
“Good, good. But do you even understand why I’m punishing you?”
“Because I’ve been… bad?” That sounded more like a question than an actual answer. Mina closed her eyes, expecting another lash on her butt because she knew Nayeon wouldn’t be satisfied with her answer, that she’d probably roll her eyes upon hearing it, but that never happened. The blow she’d anticipated never came.
“Is that all?” There was something hidden in the tone of Nayeon’s voice that suggested she was disappointed. Not angry, as her facial expressions or actions might have suggested, but disappointed with the answer Mina had given her. The problem was that she was turning that disappointment into fuel to keep punishing her.
The next lash caught Mina off guard, making her howl in pain. This one had been harder than the previous ones and had struck a spot that was already burning. The blow had been hard enough to make the heat from the impact spread across her entire butt, but not hard enough to leave a lasting mark. At least Mina knew that with Nayeon she didn’t have to worry about that; she rarely left marks that didn’t fade by the next day or a few days later. That was precisely why her favorite tool for punishing Mina was the crop.
Simple to use and easy to strike with, the crop offered her a quick way to punish Mina with little effort while still achieving a great result. A few movements of her hand and the whip’s very design ensured that all the force was effectively transmitted to Mina’s tender flesh. Soon, red marks dotted Mina’s skin where she had decided to punish her, until it became a vast expanse of red, burning skin, throbbing in an attempt to release some of the delicious pain caused by the lashes.
“We have rules, Mina,” Nayeon said, sliding the leather tip of the crop along the inside of Mina’s bare leg. “Rules are meant to be respected.” The tanned leather caressed the inside of her thigh. “They aren’t a game, and you can’t just break them hoping to be punished.” The crop came dangerously close to Mina’s crotch, which burned with a fire different from the heat caused by the blows. “If you’re only doing this to get punished, then you have a serious problem with the rules because you don’t respect them at all.” A shiver ran through Mina’s body when the crop touched her most private part. “You can’t get what you want like that, not this way.” Mina whimpered pitifully when she no longer felt the crop touching her skin. Neither Nayeon nor she knew if it was due to the lack of contact or in anticipation of another blow.
Mina closed her eyes tightly, trying to anticipate where it would be, where the blow would land this time. She was still trying to guess which buttock would receive the punishment this time when she felt the leather tip strike her directly between her legs. With a strangely wet sound, Nayeon delivered a blow right onto her folds. Mina shuddered completely, causing her knees to buckle, and she instinctively closed her legs.
If she hadn’t been bent over the dining table, Mina would likely have fallen to the floor as her legs protested. Instead, her torso pressed against the smooth wooden surface, while her heart pounded against her ribs. The table’s lifeless cold offered an almost delicious contrast to her body temperature, which kept rising higher and higher with every new blow she received.
The tears welling up in her eyes weren’t just from pain, and did it really hurt. Her entire butt stung, and to make matters worse, the crop had struck her, with no small amount of force, in her most intimate spot. If her vulva had been throbbing and radiating incredible heat before, now it was even worse. Her pussy seemed alive, pulsing vigorously against the air in the apartment.
Nayeon did nothing to ease Mina’s suffering, no caress or kiss where she needed them most. Her cunt was on fire, and Mina had to resist the urge to touch herself; that would only make things even worse for her. After all, it was a punishment she deserved, something she had brought upon herself.
Just as she was, wrapped in a whirlwind of pleasurable pain and skin almost red-hot, Mina smiled. She’d done it; she’d gotten Nayeon to give her what she wanted. It had cost her, not much, really, but in the end, she’d succeeded.
The rule Mina had broken was simple but effective. They’d both agreed to it, and Mina always followed it; she never broke it until today. Lately, she had been becoming too lenient with herself, and the usual punishment no longer seemed sufficient, at least not the way she was receiving it these days. Mina was behaving too well; she was too obedient to need a reprimand so often. It was with the intention of changing that that she had misbehaved, and it seemed her plan had worked.
All Mina had had to do was slip away from Nayeon a little without her noticing. Nayeon had her back turned while ordering drinks for both of them; Mina saw an opportunity and took it. She’d spotted a girl who looked pretty cute to her; maybe on another occasion she would have asked permission to go talk to her, but not today. Today it was essential that she do it without permission, just as it was crucial that she do it while her wife was off guard. Yes, because that would irritate Nayeon even more.
Mina made her way through the crowd, careful not to bump into the people dancing to the techno beat that was piercing her eardrums. She strutted with every step she took, swaying her hips and walking with a hypnotic grace. She drew closer and closer to the girl she’d spotted in the distance. She stalked her while studying her group of friends, looking for the best way to approach her.
By the time Nayeon turned around with her drinks in hand, Mina had already infiltrated the girl’s group; her hand was already resting on the girl’s lower back, over a large tattoo that adorned her skin. It took Nayeon five seconds to spot Mina, and another two to understand what she was doing. With trembling hands, she set the drinks down on the bar and rushed toward her wife like a wild animal, not caring if she bumped into anyone or disturbed the others.
Nayeon’s long fingers closed like a claw around Mina’s wrist and pulled her. Without words, without shouting, simply with gestures and a murderous glare, Nayeon pulled her, and Mina obeyed under the stunned gaze of the petite girl. Instead of heading toward the bar where their drinks awaited them, Nayeon walked straight toward the entrance.
The events that followed unfolded in a blur, as if Nayeon’s anger and Mina’s audacity had blurred time itself. The drive back home was quick and silent, as was the elevator ride up to their floor. Then they arrived at the apartment, and Nayeon barked orders at Mina. “Take off your clothes and wait in the dining room.” That was all she said before disappearing down the hallway, leaving Mina smiling at having achieved the effect she wanted.
Nayeon returned a moment later carrying the crop, which in fact was her favorite toy, and a pair of handcuffs. Which soon were clamping down on Mina’s wrists just as Nayeon’s hand had when she’d pulled her at the club.
Actually, Mina didn’t care about the girl at the club; she could have her or someone like her whenever she wanted. All she had to do was behave and ask Nayeon for permission, who usually agreed to anything she asked. Mina knew how to play her role perfectly; she knew how to behave and act as she should, as was expected of her. On a good day, that meant she went home with the girl of her choice. On a great day, that meant Nayeon didn’t just watch from the couch but joined them as well.
That was the gist of Mina’s provocation that night. The real problem was that Mina had taken the initiative without permission and had completely left her wife out of the picture. Because Nayeon had no problem sharing Mina as long as it was made very clear that she, Nayeon, was the one in charge of the situation. When they went to the club, Mina was a lapdog and Nayeon was the owner holding the leash with a firm hand, but that night Mina had broken free from the leash.
That was why Nayeon delivered another blow to Mina’s left buttock, who let out a pitiful, pathetic moan as the crop kissed her skin. A new red mark formed where she had been struck, adding to the many she already had. A large portion of her butt had turned red as a result of the punishment she was receiving. Her buttocks throbbed and burned fiercely where the crop had struck, contrasting sharply with the pale tone of her skin.
"If you want to fuck someone, you have to ask permission. You can’t just go around throwing yourself into anyone’s arms.” Nayeon caressed Mina’s cheek with the tip of the crop, and Mina swallowed hard. “But that’s not even the problem.” Nayeon sighed behind her wife. “The problem is that I know you did it on purpose, and I’m not sure if it’s worth punishing you.”
Mina’s heart skipped a beat at those words. The heat spreading across her skin was so delicious that it was beginning to cloud her judgment, or in fact, it was already quite clouded; but she couldn’t let Nayeon stop now. She had to find a way to get her wife to keep punishing her.
Knowing very well what she was doing, Mina straightened up with every intention of defying Nayeon, and the desired effect was immediate. Nayeon brought the crop down on the outer thigh of Mina’s leg; her leg gave way, and her body fell onto the table again. Mina did her best to hide the smile curving her lips.
However, Nayeon did nothing else. She didn’t scold her or strike her again with the crop. She stood watching with her arms crossed, waiting to see if Mina dared to defy her once more or if she had already understood the message.
With her hands cuffed behind her back, Mina couldn’t do much. That attempt to straighten up had been the most she could move without provoking Nayeon too much, and she already knew how that had ended. The secret lay in knowing how much she could push her wife, how much she could provoke her before Nayeon realized Mina was doing it on purpose and decided it was best to let her off without punishment. The best and cruelest torture would be not to touch her when Mina was so desperate.
Fortunately for the woman bent over the table, Nayeon decided that the transgressions of that night still had to be punished. The crop whistled once more and struck near where Mina’s buttocks met; she stifled a moan and a smile at the same time.
More blows followed that one. A cacophony of lashes took over the apartment’s calm, silently desecrating the peace that should have reigned there at that hour and mingling with Mina’s pitiful moans. If her butt hadn’t been completely covered in red marks before, it certainly was now, because Nayeon took the trouble not to leave a single centimeter of her skin unstruck. The leather tip bit into her skin like wasp stings, leaving a burning sensation that was hard to describe, but which was like a balm that washed away Mina’s common sense and made her think only of pleasure.
Nayeon’s lips curved into a smile as she admired the work of art she had turned Mina’s butt into, which was already wonderful on its own without any marks. Her buttocks were redder than her cheeks on the day they got married, glowing and throbbing with enough heat to burn for a few days but not enough to leave lasting marks. Mina would surely have trouble sitting up straight for a week, but nothing more than that. Nayeon couldn’t allow herself to leave a mark that wouldn’t fade on her wife’s porcelain skin; she would never forgive herself if that happened.
“Did you learn your lesson?” Nayeon tapped her hand with the handle of the crop to emphasize the fact that she was in charge of the situation, as if the position Mina was in didn’t already scream who was in command. Bent over the table, with her hands cuffed behind her back and her ass red from the blows, she clearly couldn’t be the one in charge. Still, she had put herself in that situation.
“Y-yes, yes,” Mina stammered between sobs and gasps.
“I can never be sure with you.” Nayeon delivered an upward blow right between Mina's legs. The wet sound the crop made as it struck Mina’s folds was delightful, a treat for Nayeon’s ears. The pitiful moan that accompanied it was even more pleasurable for Nayeon. She gripped the crop’s handle tightly as she delivered more blows to her wife’s pussy.
For her part, Mina tried to lift her butt, standing on her tiptoes in a futile attempt to protect herself from the blows. As if that little extra distance would make it hurt any less, as if she weren’t thoroughly enjoying every single blow. The tears running down her thighs weren’t from pain but from pure pleasure.
With every new blow that landed on her folds, Mina shuddered and let out a moan or a sob. A delicious mix of sounds that Nayeon rejoiced in. She enjoyed this just as much as Mina did; after all, it was the dynamic of their marriage. If Mina loved having a collar around her neck, then Nayeon loved being the one holding the leash of that collar.
Then the blows ceased, and the only sound heard was Mina’s occasional sobs. She didn’t dare speak, and Nayeon said nothing more, not a command, not a word. Perhaps she had decided it was enough, that Mina’s bottom could no longer withstand further punishment, but fortunately, this wasn’t the only form of torture she knew.
The click-clack of Nayeon’s heels faded away, leaving Mina alone in the dining room without a single order or word spoken, but she knew she had to wait exactly where she was, in the same position; the moment to be defiant to get what she wanted had already passed. Her ass was burning like crazy, not to mention her pussy, which was throbbing from the punishment she’d received. Even her thighs had been partly the target of the blows, though to a much lesser extent than her butt. Her shoulders were also starting to ache from the uncomfortable position in which she’d been handcuffed. Mina couldn’t, and perhaps didn’t want to, do anything to relieve any of her pain.
When what felt like an eternity to Mina had passed, Nayeon returned carrying things Mina couldn’t see, but which could be nothing other than toys of some kind to extend her punishment.
“How much does it hurt?” Nayeon asked, resting her open hand on Mina’s buttock. Mina let out a hiss when she felt the palm touch her skin.
“I can handle it, if that’s what you want to know.”
“Good, because we’re not done yet.” Then Nayeon slowly ran her nails across her wife’s burning skin, leaving white marks that instantly turned red again. This time Mina didn’t hiss but openly moaned from the pleasure that pain caused her. “Let’s see if this teaches you not to break the rules, even if you do it because you want to be punished.” Nayeon leaned in to whisper those words right into Mina’s ear.
If Mina had previously dissolved into a mixture of moans, hisses, groans, and sighs, now she shuddered and let out a mixture of all those sounds together. A rattle rising from the deepest part of her being in response to her wife’s actions. Nayeon had gently placed what appeared to be an ice cube against one of her buttocks. Wet and frozen as it was, the small cube sent electric sensations all over Mina’s buttocks, and seemed to burn her skin with its icy embrace. At the same time, it brought relief and created more pain, but in a different way than the lashes had. The sensation was simply overwhelming, beautiful, delicious, something she had hoped to feel that night.
Nayeon moved the cube all over Mina’s butt until it melted completely, leaving her buttocks covered in droplets of water that offered scant relief from the burning of her skin. A new cube replaced the previous one until it, too, melted, letting its remnants flow down Mina’s thighs and mix with her own fluids. When the third ice cube touched her skin, Mina’s brain short-circuited. “Ssshhhhh! You asked for it, now you have to take it,” Nayeon whispered in her ear, still leaning over her, as she pressed the ice cube against Mina’s throbbing folds.
The icy kiss of the ice felt like a spider’s bite on her most intimate parts. Her naturally sensitive lips were swollen and throbbing from the blows, and the ice only intensified all those sensations. The way Nayeon rubbed it along her slit drew delicious sounds from Mina’s mouth; her vocal cords were working overtime to try to express the pleasure she was feeling.
Mina let out a broken moan halfway to becoming a groan when Nayeon pushed the ice cube against her folds and beyond. Her wife’s long fingers accompanied the ice cube inside her, spreading that embracing cold that contrasted so deliciously with the immense heat with which Mina’s inner walls pulsed. It was like having a hurricane inside her; it felt like two forces colliding against each other.
This time, real tears slid down her cheeks, revealing just how overstimulated she felt. The ice inside her vagina didn’t even hurt; it was something different yet at the same time very similar. Mina couldn’t have found the exact words to describe how she felt in that moment, she was too busy doing just that: feeling. Every movement of Nayeon’s fingers, every millimeter of the ice cube, every new pulsation of her walls, Mina could feel it all with overwhelming clarity. It was as if the ice cube in her pussy had awakened a sixth sense in her, making her fully aware of her body.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Nayeon’s words floated to her from an indeterminate distance, as if the person leaning over her and the one speaking to her were two different people. But her wife was real and was right there with her, on top of her, making her feel wonderful things. Drawing moans and other obscene sounds from her, as if she had spent years studying her anatomy and understanding her body.
The ice cube had melted into a tiny snowflake when Mina felt empty; Nayeon’s fingers stopped exploring her insides for a few agonizing seconds that felt like an eternity to Mina, until her wife pressed another cube inside her. Instantly, that overwhelming icy heat flooded her again; more moans escaped her as she tried to control her emotions, trying to endure the overwhelming rush of sensations that were taking over her body.
Nayeon moved the ice inside her, spreading the cold across all her walls, preventing any single spot from getting used to the contact with the cube. But it wasn’t just that which was driving Mina crazy; her wife’s fingers were also helping to push her a little closer to the edge. Long and slender, Nayeon’s fingers fit perfectly inside Mina, around her neck, or cupping her breasts. It seemed as if Nayeon’s hands were just the right size to fit Mina’s body, as if they had always been meant for each other.
There was a time when Mina felt ashamed to fantasize about Nayeon’s hands. When they were just getting to know each other and there was nothing between them but an exchange of nervous glances and flirtatious smiles, even then Mina had already begun fantasizing about Nayeon’s large hands all over her body. They could never have imagined how much things would change in a few years, ending with Nayeon using those same fingers to push an ice cube into her cunt.
“Is this what you were looking for when you decided to disobey me?” The second ice cube melted, but instead of grabbing a third as Mina would have expected, Nayeon used her fingers to caress the folds of her wife’s pussy.
"Yes-yeeeeeeees!" It might not have been exactly what she had in mind when she decided to separate from Nayeon and go talk to that girl, but it served her ultimate goal just the same: the intoxicating pleasure of having Nayeon on top of her.
Nayeon snorted at her wife’s honest response, but at least she was telling the truth, and that had to be worth something. In any case, admitting her guilt wasn’t going to save her from punishment; Nayeon had already decided that, despite everything, she had to find something positive in all of this. Something more than the heat building between her own legs.
“Maybe I should have invited her over. Maybe that girl would have enjoyed seeing what you're really like.” Nayeon's fingers never stopped caressing Mina's curves as she spat those words at her. "I would have loved to see your reaction when she realized that all that confidence and drive were just a facade. When she heard the pathetic sounds coming out of your mouth.“ Nayeon pressed closer to Mina’s ear. ”I bet you would have enjoyed that… But you can’t have it.“ Nayeon clicked her tongue as she chose her next words. ”You can’t behave like that, like a slut, like a stray bitch in heat. Don’t you know you belong to me? Don’t you know who your owner is?”
“Y-y-y-you!!” Mina sobbed as her wife’s fingers explored her folds. “You’re my owner. You, you, only you.” The control Nayeon exerted over her was intoxicating and clouded her senses, making her forget that she was an independent being with a will of her own and not just a simple pet.
“It’s still not quite clear to me.” Nayeon pulled away from Mina, leaving her bent over the table, her hands still handcuffed and her skin missing Nayeon’s fingers.
A chair scraping across the floor and other sounds she couldn’t identify distracted Mina from her musings. Nayeon was doing something she didn’t dare look at but that would most certainly be part of her next punishment, because it was clear her wife wasn’t done with her yet, that the night was still young.
“Come here.” Nayeon grabbed her by the handcuffs and pulled Mina’s body, forcing her to straighten up. Her shoulders protested as her feet once again took on the full weight of her body. The carpet caressed her feet in a strange way compared to the burning sensation on her buttocks; even her chest and lower back ached a little from having spent so much time bent over the table.
The hand holding the handcuffs let go, and Mina was free to turn around and face Nayeon. There stood her wife, half-naked, wearing only her underwear. A matching set accompanied by thigh-high stockings. The heels and her stern gaze gave her a bearing and presence that someone of her size shouldn’t have.
Mina could do nothing but swallow hard at the sight of her wife, who stood before her, authoritative and stern. Without saying a word, just with her gaze and the tension evident in her body, Nayeon made it clear she was pissed off. The fact that Mina was enjoying the punishment she was inflicting on her irritated and excited her in equal measure.
With parsimony, Nayeon took a seat in the chair she had moved earlier, the one Mina had heard but not seen. In the middle of the dining room, Nayeon picked up an accessory she had never used before and tied it to her left thigh, making sure it was secure and wouldn’t move but also that it wasn’t too tight.
The accessory in question was simple, or it would have been if they didn’t have such a taste for pretty things. It was a piece of leather adorned with lace and smaller leather straps that joined in the center to a ring, which was undoubtedly meant for attaching a toy there. They had bought it a long time ago; it was a handmade piece they had never found the right opportunity to use. It had been sitting in its box at the back of the closet all this time, not even in their toy drawer, until Nayeon decided it was the perfect accessory to wear tonight.
“Since you made me put on a show at the club, now it’s your turn to put one on for me.” Nayeon patted her thigh right next to the harness as if she were patting to call a lapdog, before sliding onto the chair so her butt was right on the edge. The order was clear. Mina knew exactly what she had to do even without Nayeon explaining anything else; she knew what her wife expected.
At least Nayeon had been considerate enough not to put a toy that was too big in the harness, something Mina was grateful for because she didn’t think she could handle anything bigger that night. The earlier punishment, combined with the ice, had taken its toll on her; besides, she was sure the lashes on her thighs would sting once she was in full swing.
Under Nayeon’s watchful gaze, who spread her legs to give her more room, Mina positioned herself directly over the dildo. Her wife leaned back, resting her weight on the chair’s backrest, taking center stage to watch the show she had demanded. She even crossed her arms over her chest to make it clear that Mina would be the one doing all the work, as if she were a stripper entertaining a client who couldn’t touch her. Except that in this case, Nayeon could do whatever she wanted with her if she wanted.
Mina aligned the tip of the toy with her entrance and lowered herself slowly. Instantly, her thighs protested and she felt a burning sensation where the crop had struck, but she didn’t stop. She continued lowering herself until most of the toy was inside her, feeling the shaft as the head parted her swollen lips and then pushed its way between her walls. The cold of the ice cubes was nothing like the phallus now caressing her insides. Both were inert objects, but the toy had a texture and design that offered more stimulation than the flawlessly smooth surface of the cubes.
As if it were routine for her, a kind of repetitive task, Nayeon watched with an indifferent face as Mina impaled herself on the toy. Hiding just how much she was enjoying seeing her wife like this. Obedient, vulnerable, beautiful, Mina was all that and more. Sometimes Nayeon couldn’t believe that behind that kind face and that innocent gaze lay a creature addicted to pleasure, to the indulgences of the flesh, so willing to let herself go like this. That was part of Mina's charm, one the thing that made Nayeon fall in love with her many years ago.
Putting all her will into it, Mina managed to sit on her wife’s thigh, taking the entire length of the toy inside her. Her face said it all; it clearly showed that despite the burning in her ass and having her hands cuffed, she was still feeling pleasure. But that wouldn’t be enough to complete the task Nayeon had set for her. No, she needed more than that to satisfy her wife.
Up until now, she had managed to sit on the toy while letting out only a few sighs, nothing more than that, but once she began to move her hips, it was impossible for her to remain silent. Moans escaped her mouth in time with the back-and-forth motion of her hips, at a slow but steady pace.
If only she could have used her hands for support, Mina would have bounced on the toy, but since they were handcuffed behind her back, all she could do was ride it. She moved back and forth over Nayeon’s thigh in short strokes, arching her back slightly to stay upright as she rode the toy.
The show proved satisfying for Nayeon as her lips curved into a smile. Not too wide, but it revealed the good work Mina was doing, who was now moving in circles, leaning her full weight onto her wife’s thigh. Nayeon couldn’t help herself and placed her hand on Mina’s hip, a simple gesture that made her shiver at the touch.
Then they stared intently at each other. Until now, Mina had avoided it; she didn’t want to feel the overwhelming weight of her wife’s gaze while she rode the toy like a slut, but in reality, there was nothing to be ashamed of. Nayeon was her wife, and in reality, she had already seen her do quite a few humiliating things over the years, and she herself had made her do a few others. That’s why she held her gaze as she panted with her mouth open and moaned occasionally.
The hand on Mina’s hip began its ascent slowly, scratching the skin of her waist on its way up. Leaving shallow marks here and there until it reached Mina’s chest. Her breasts were small and Nayeon’s hands were large; the difference in size meant that Nayeon’s hand could easily cup a breast, cover it with her spread fingers, and squeeze or rub it with her palm. Nayeon's hands were the perfect fitting bra for her wife, a garment she loves to wear often.
Mina bit her lower lip, gasped, and moaned, but she never stopped looking her wife in the eyes. Not when Nayeon moved her palm to cup her breast from the side of her torso, nor when she extended her thumb to stroke Mina’s nipple. She didn’t break eye contact, giving it her all, but she let out more obscene noises when Nayeon pressed her nipple harder, when she began moving her finger in a circular motion, stimulating that highly sensitive area.
Her thighs ached, and the movement made her ass burn, not to mention how her pussy throbbed as it was filled to the hilt by the toy. If before Mina’s fluids had been trickling down her thighs like tears of pleasure, now they were staining the leather straps and Nayeon’s thigh. It would probably leave a stain that would be hard to remove from her wife’s stockings, but who cared? It was all part of the game, of the show they’d put on right in the middle of the dining room.
“N-no.” Mina managed to utter when the stimulation on her nipple ceased. As if tonight she had lost the ability to speak properly, or as if everything that had happened was frying her brain. Causing short circuits that prevented her from forming coherent thoughts and kept her floating on clouds of pleasure. But despite that, the hand resumed its upward path, caressing her chest and then her neck. Grabbing her by the nape of her neck to force her to hold a gaze that she herself was unwilling to break, just to assert dominance. Finally cupping her cheek and caressing her lips with his thumb.
Instinctively, Mina allowed her thumb to slip into her mouth, lost in the pleasure and the urge to put on a show worthy of her punishment, something that would absolve her of the transgression she had committed. This time she did look away; she had to close her eyes to endure the shame of sucking her wife’s finger, as if she hadn’t done it a million times before. Even though Nayeon was the only one who could see her this vulnerable, see her in her true nakedness, and it was she who held the invisible leash around Mina’s neck. Despite all that, Mina couldn’t help but feel like a slut right now.
She had disobeyed on purpose, and now she was paying the price. Riding a dildo on Nayeon’s thigh, with her hands cuffed behind her back, and performing fellatio on her wife’s thumb. Nayeon was surely happy to see her like this, to watch her melt in her hands, under her caresses. To become clay that she could easily mold with little touches of pleasure.
Suddenly, the finger was yanked out of Mina’s mouth, and what happened next made her moan, not with pleasure, but with surprise. Without warning or provocation, Nayeon slapped her with an open palm, using all the strength she could muster. Out of pure instinct, Mina stopped moving her hips and stared at the floor as a new part of her body began to sting from Nayeon’s blows.
“I didn’t give you permission to stop.” Nayeon’s words were biting and sharp, almost as much as the nails on her fingers. With them, she grabbed Mina by the nape of her neck and forced her to look up. “I thought you were enjoying the punishment.”
Instead of coherent words, an unintelligible babble came out of Mina’s mouth, a stream of incoherent sounds that meant nothing but at the same time said it all. Where Nayeon had struck her, the stinging sensation was growing. On her buttocks, her thighs, and now her cheek, her skin was red and burning. But that stinging sensation was delicious and made her pussy grow wetter, its walls closing around the toy with increasing force.
"Are you enjoying it or not?" Another slap echoed through the room and made Mina sob. The pain in her cheek was accompanied by a sense of shame she wasn't used to feeling, at least not like this. This wasn't the kind of embarrassment that made her center tingle, but rather the kind that made her stomach feel sick. Maybe because this time she had gone too fare and actually pissed of Nayeon, but that again aroused her in a strange way. "Tell me."
Nayeon never got to know what Mina’s answer was, but judging by how wet her thigh was getting, it was clear she was enjoying it. Not the slap in her face but the rest. It couldn’t be any other way. Instead of letting her speak, Nayeon chose to slip her thumb back into Mina’s mouth, and Mina immediately wrapped her tongue around the intruding finger. Perhaps as a way to keep the hand pressed against her face and prevent her from slapping her again. The other thing she did was start moving her hips once more, fucking herself with the dildo. Nayeon had made it clear that she wasn’t allowed to stop for anything, not even if she slapped her.
The chair creaked under the combined weight of both of them, amplified by Mina’s movements. Her muscles also protested the constant effort of the motion and having had to support her for so long while she was on the table. Mina was tired but knew she couldn’t stop; she wasn’t allowed to, and she didn’t want to either. She adored Nayeon’s dominant gaze upon her and the way the dildo filled her so well.
Mina’s moans gave way to gasps and sighs. The finger in her mouth prevented her from swallowing, so saliva trickled down the corner of her lips in a thin stream. She was literally drooling with pleasure, in her opinion an almost pornographic act.
Nayeon’s free hand rested on Mina's hip, and stretching out her thumb as she had done before to caress her nipple, Nayeon gently pressed her wife’s clitoris. Far from hindering the movement, the hand only added a new stimulus to the already long list of pleasurable sensations that were taking hold of Mina. A simple touch on a spot that had been ignored all night, a touch that nearly made Mina collapse.
Unable to take it anymore, Mina stuck out her tongue between gasps and moans. Her ragged breathing made her chest rise and fall, while the movement of her hips caused her small breasts to tremble with each new thrust. Nayeon’s thumb on her bundle of nerves intensified the sensations overwhelming her, the electric shocks coursing through her entire body.
A single caress from that mischievous thumb was enough to send Mina over the edge. Her body could take no more, and her walls clenched around the toy as her moans reached a new peak in volume. Judging by the way Mina’s body moved on its own, anyone would have thought she wasn’t enjoying it, but every last fiber of her being was collapsing in pleasure. Contracting, driven by the electric sensations emanating from her core and coursing through her entire being.
Her hips stopped moving rhythmically, and instead, a convulsive tremor took hold of them. If it hadn’t been for the hand holding her face, Mina would have collapsed and ended up on the floor; since her hands were handcuffed, there was no other point of support for her besides Nayeon’s hands.
For a moment, the world around Mina transformed into a whirlwind of blurry shapes and dancing lights. She felt everything around her spinning as if she were drunk, but it was a different kind of intoxication than that of alcohol. Pleasure had taken hold of her and clouded her senses; Nayeon’s hands, rather than preventing her from falling to the floor, kept her connected to the world. The touch of her wife was the only thing real to her right now; not even the burning sensation on her buttocks seemed to matter anymore. As if it had never really happened, as if all that punishment were part of a distant reality, from another world.
Between spasms and sobs, Nayeon guided Mina’s body toward her own. Still sitting on her thigh, she let Mina rest her head on her shoulder and stroked the hair at the nape of her neck, whispering something so softly that Mina could barely make out what she was saying. It was something only they shared, isolated from the rest of the world by a connection that nothing could break. Not even Mina's disobedience.
The sweet scent of Mina’s perfume flooded Nayeon’s nostrils. Combined with the smell of sweat, dried tears, and the scent of her arousal, it was a drug far too addictive. One that seeped into her lungs and wreaked havoc on her being. Saliva stained Nayeon’s shoulder, but that was nothing compared to the stain of nectar on her thigh, a stain that had likely ruined the stockings she was wearing. A small price to pay for the spectacle she had witnessed and for teaching Mina a lesson.
Mina sobbed softly on her wife’s shoulder; it was the way her body had reacted to so much stimulation in so many different ways. Tears ran gently down Nayeon’s back, leaving trails in their wake until they vanished who knows where, while the burning sensation on Mina’s skin slowly returned. Suddenly, she became aware again of the punishment she had received, and her body protested with a longer sob. Rubbing her face against her wife’s skin, she let herself go completely and collapsed into the arms of the woman holding her.
The world around Mina was slowly starting to make sense again. Her head wasn’t spinning anymore, that was an improvement, but she felt pain here and there. The first discomfort she became aware of was a burning sensation on her buttocks; the skin there still throbbed and gave off a bit of heat. When she tried to rub her buttocks to ease the discomfort, she noticed that her shoulders and wrists were sore too.
A beam of light was filtering through the bedroom curtain, indicating that dawn had broken, but Mina had no idea what time it was or how she’d gotten there. It had definitely been Nayeon who’d carried her to her bed; it couldn’t have been anyone else. She had also cleaned her private parts, put the top of her pajamas on her, and covered her up. Of course it had been Nayeon who did all that, but now there was no sign of her in the room. Only the crumpled sheets and the disheveled pillows told Mina that her wife had indeed slept in the same bed as her.
Footsteps approached down the hallway with a carefree rhythm, telling Mina that was where her wife was. A few moments later, Nayeon opened the door and entered the room looking completely different from how Mina had last seen her. The lingerie, heels, and stockings had given way to slippers, pink pajamas with bunnies printed all over them, and large, thin-framed glasses. The night before, Nayeon had worn her hair perfectly styled with not a single strand out of place; now she wore it tied in a messy bun with a few loose strands hanging down. The glamorous woman who had done all those things to Mina last night and the one now looking at her from the doorway seemed like two different people; no one would have imagined they were the same person.
“Look who finally woke up.” Nayeon hurried to climb into bed and kiss her wife on the cheek. Not the check she slapped the night before but the other. “How did you sleep?” she asked, turning to grab something from the nightstand.
“I don’t know. Fine, I guess.” The truth was that Mina felt sore but at the same time as if she’d slept for an eternity.
“I suppose so.” Nayeon turned around, holding a small aluminum jar in her hand and with a smile on her face. Mina’s heart skipped a beat when she saw her wife’s bunny teeth. “You even snored while you slept.”
“That’s not true, you know I don’t snore,” protested an indignant Mina as Nayeon lifted the sheets to reveal her butt.
“Mina, we’ve had this conversation hundreds of times.” Nayeon opened the jar and stuck her fingers in to scoop out a clear, firm substance. The same fingers she’d used the night before to shove an ice cube into her wife’s cunt.
Mina’s response to that terrible accusation never came; instead, a hiss escaped her involuntarily when Nayeon smeared the ointment on her butt. The sensation was refreshing and immediately soothed the burning, but the temperature difference between her skin and the ointment gave her occasional chills.
Mina crossed her arms under the pillow and rested her head there while her wife applied the ointment all over her buttocks and part of her thighs. Everywhere the whip had struck, with the exception of her folds, was covered by the substance. Soon the burning sensation was gone, and the discomfort was almost imperceptible as well. Only that strange sensation in her shoulders remained, but that was something Mina could endure.
“What do you want for breakfast?” Nayeon asked as she absentmindedly screwed the lid back on the jar.
“Mmmmmnnnnn… How about you get in bed with me and we sleep until it’s time for lunch?” Mina pouted in a way that would have melted the heart of even the most evil and indifferent person on the planet. Obviously, Nayeon wasn’t that person, and she instantly succumbed to her wife’s charms.
“Only if you hug me.” The room filled with their giggles as Nayeon made herself comfortable in the bed and Mina moved closer to hug her around the waist.
The following is Chapter 12 in the Toy series - but it can (mostly) be read on its own.
This chapter is from the POV of Woody.
11,668 words.
---
My mind in a vice grip
Your legs still wrapped around my head
In that hotel suite
Cigarette ashes on my bed
They stain the sheets - I see you nude, dancing around my room
As if you ain’t a thousand miles back home
But it’s cool I’ll probably see you soon
I can’t go to that thrift store
Without smelling sex in the dressing room
Can’t hear my favorite film score
Without sweet nothings played on loop
It’s kind of rude, won’t let me loose
As if you weren’t a thousand miles back home
But it’s cool I’ll probably see you soon
I can still feel you kiss me
I thought I was ready
to see you off on that flight
I said goodbye - but as the clock, it ticks on by
I realize I’m still holding you close
As if you ain’t a thousand miles back home
But least we got telephones
Whoever said “out of sight, out of mind”
Fucking lied
‘Cause you’re not by, by my side
Still keep me up at night
I can still feel you kiss me
-Holywatr, “Without U”
---
It’s painful, honestly, the way she does it.
She steps into the cafe like she owns it, despite the oversized hoodie and ridiculously short denim shorts that looked worn out and threadbare but are probably designer and worth more than what you make in a month. The cap on her head, the large sunglasses, and the mask cover her - because without them someone might recognize her face as one that’s been on a million screens, a thousand advertisements, all over the world.
She looks, almost, like she doesn’t care. She looks like any other young woman grabbing an overpriced, oversweetened dose of caffeine that she’ll probably snap a picture of for her Instagram story before leaving half-finished on a sidewalk somewhere. She reaches the counter and mutters an order to a barista that doesn’t deign to even look up from the tablet he punches her order into.
Every movement she makes is painful to you. Her nonchalance - her indifference - stings. It’s a sharp spike poised above your ribs, giving you tiny little jabs of bright pain.
She steps aside from the register and saunters to the waiting area. A hand slips into her oversized tote - which, like the rest of her attire, hid a ludicrous price tag beneath its ragged exterior - to produce a phone that she idly scrolls as she waits.
It’s then that she sees you.
Dark glasses turn. The mask hides her expression. You imagine it’s hiding a regretful sigh, or one of disgust at something unpleasant that she’ll have to take care of - like a full trash can that needs to be emptied.
The barista calls her name - not her real one, not here, out in public - and she takes the plastic caffeine container, loaded with an obscene amount of ice and whipped cream and those stupid fucking chocolate sprinkles she loves so much. She walks over to the corner booth where you’re sitting, sits across from you.
The mask drops. The glasses come off.
Minatozaki Sana was many things. Idol, model.
Today she is just a young woman throwing away a toy she’d grown tired of.
---
“You look like you’re doing well,” she says, flatly. Her eyes, often so full of mirth and mischief and something she wanted people to interpret as joy - they look dull and uninterested today, as though she’d had to force herself to be here, to see you.
You don’t know what to say. What could you say? This was one of the most popular woman on earth, one of the most gorgeous, and you’d spent the last few years catering to her every whim. You’d seen her at her highest, supported you through her lowest, fucked her throughout. Those lips had wrapped themselves around your cock, whispered filth against shower tiles as you took her from behind, spilt her hopes and dreams and deepest insecurities on those quiet nights between shows when all you did was hold her in her hotel room while she cried about how she believed everyone around her wanted her just for her looks and not for the girl beneath them ---
And now she was greeting you with the same interest she had given the barista moments earlier.
“I’m good,” you manage, although the words that leave your lips seem to come from a voice that isn’t yours.
“How’s your mom?” she continues, even as she takes her drink and stirs it absently, taking a short sip of the sugar water within.
“She’s good, she’s good,” you answer. The words cost you something to say, because speaking to her isn’t free anymore, not now. “The doctors say she’s responding well to the treatment. They say she’ll be out of the hospital in a few weeks.”
“Good,” she says. Her eyes don’t meet yours. She takes another sip of her drink. “Which hospital is she at?”
“She just got transferred to the Women’s Hospital, the one on 6th street.”
Sana nods, barely, but doesn’t make eye contact.
“How are you?” you ask, because that was how conversations worked, right? She asks how you are, you answer, you ask her how she is, she answers. You don’t have the courage or the brain cells to manage much more than that - not now, not when the woman sitting across from you is who she is.
Silence. It’s only for a few seconds as he stirs her drink with that green paper straw she hated so much. The world thought they knew everything about Minatozaki Sana, but her hatred of paper straws is something only you know about her. It’s an intimate thing, amidst the myriad of other intimate things you know of her.
But none of that knowledge is able to bridge the silence between you. It lasts only a few seconds, but they feel like forever.
“How are the girls?” you add, hoping a simpler question might prompt more conversation, might produce something, anything out of her to fill this painful, terrible silence.
“They’re good. Tour wrapped up. Just the encores in Seoul to go.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you… how was… uh, the cities?”
She looks up at you, finally, at the random words spilling from your mouth in some vain attempt to maintain some semblance of normalcy. She’s stunning - even without an ounce of makeup or the small platoon of makeup artists and hairstylists that make her look the way she does on those screens and advertisements - but today she looks tired, and uninterested, and done with it.
Done with you.
“They were good,” she answers, finally. Her attention returns to her drink to the sugar, water, and caffeine concoction on the table between you, as though it were a third participant in this awful, painful conversation. Silence returns, for too long.
“Sana, I-”
“Listen,” she says, at a volume and with a tone that rattles you. “We both know why we’re here.”
You don’t say anything. How could you?
“We can’t do this anymore,” she says. Her eyes falter for a moment - just a moment - before she wrestles them back in line. “It was fun. But it was a dream. Time to wake up. It’s over.”
Your words fail you. Two years - two years you’d spent with this woman - and they’re all gone, all over, just like that - a dream to be woken up from, a toy to be discarded.
You want to say something. Want to tell her the past few years have been the best of your life, that you’d seen cities and done things and had experiences that you’d long thought only existed in movies or k-dramas or fanfiction - and that she was at the center of all that, the source of it, the only reason why you were able to experience it all and that you will thank her, with every second of the rest of your life, that she picked you out of the thousands of men at that concert two years, eight months, three days and sixteen hours ago---
“Sana-” you begin, but no words follow.
“I don’t need a manager that will just get up and leave me randomly,” she states, the words somehow sharp and cold at the same time. “I need someone I can depend on. Whenever, wherever. You’re not that person. Not anymore.”
She lets the words lie there in the space between you for a moment that felt much longer than it actually was. Something painful flares in your chest.
“The company will send you the rest of your pay,” she continues. “And the non-disclosure agreement, of course.” The glasses and mask come back on, covering up those gorgeous features of hers. Her eyes catch yours before the glasses cover them up and there’s something there that hurts you - the indifference, the nonchalance, the arrogance of this woman for tossing you aside like some unwanted trinket she’d grown bored of.
But it’s fleeting. The lenses are opaque and dark and you wonder if you’ll ever see those eyes this closely again. She gathers her things.
“Bye,” she says, and for a moment you imagine there’s regret, or sadness, or something soft and fragile in her voice - but then you realize it was probably your imagination, your heart protecting itself from being shattered into a million pieces right there on the floor of some fucking chain coffee shop.
She leaves.
Her drink sits on the table, barely-touched, left behind.
---
“We miss you, bro.”
Pikachu was a good guy. He was on the other side of the world, but the wonders of modern technology meant you could still pick out the genuine tone in his words and the worry behind them.
“Thanks, dude. I miss you guys too. How’s Buzz?”
“Aw, you know,” Pikachu answers. “It is what it is. You know she’s… she’s dating someone else now, right?”
You don’t have to ask who he means by ‘she’. It was common knowledge now, and had been plastered all over the k-pop blogs when news of it broke. The ‘ideal couple,’ they were called, because they both looked like marble statues of the fucking Olympians brought to life.
Buzz, on the other hand, was a little short and scrawny; but admittedly, most men looked scrawny next to her new boyfriend.
“Tell him to keep his head up,” you answer. “He’s a good guy. I heard he’s getting into acting after the tour is done?”
“He is,” Pikachu replies. “The other managers want him to stay on, but I think he wants a break from it all. He accepted a role last week. It starts filming at the end of the year.”
There’s a moment of sad silence between you, a melancholy, an acknowledgement that the brotherhood that had formed between the three of you was reaching its natural end, and there was nothing any of you could do to stop it. It was fleeting, momentary - three men brought together under the most ridiculous circumstances - but you treasured it, cherished it all the same. You shared some of the best of years of your life with them, and now that time was coming to an end.
A dream to wake up from.
“How’s your mom?” Pikachu asks, and you answer - she’s doing fine, the doctors have run the tests and prescribed the drugs, but she’ll need a little more time in the hospital to recover. Pikachu is thoughtful and genuine, and makes a promise to come visit her, and you, someday.
“And how’s…” he hesitates for a moment, knowing he was approaching sore, still-bleeding territory. “How are things with you and Sana?”
You gather yourself for a moment. The wound was still fresh. You’re still trying to get over the way she did it, the way she threw you left you behind like that fucking drink she left on the table. Anger flares for a moment. You hide it.
“We’re done,” you answer, and the words leave a lump in your throat as they pass. “She… she broke things off after I came back home for mom. I saw her last week in person on her way back to Seoul. Said she needed someone that wasn’t going to just leave at random times. You know how she is - needy as fuck. Threw me aside like a piece of trash but hey, at least she did it to my face.”
You manage a sad chuckle. Pikachu is supportive. He’s a bro, he knows what to do. He tells you she was a bitch to break things off with you the way she did, when she did. He tells you she’s a spoiled brat, that she’s used to people doting on her 24/7/365 and couldn’t handle someone who had other priorities. He goes off on how needy she always is, and how she’s constantly seeking the attention and approval of everyone around her, and how exhausting that is for everyone.
He says the right things, and you knew him well enough to know that he meant them.
The call nears its end. Pikachu has a team meeting to attend in ten minutes, where the managers and the crew will be discussing the wrap-up of the European leg and begin preparations for the finales in Seoul. He mentions, offhandedly, that Momo and Chaeyoung have been at odds in the past few weeks, and that management wants him to take care of it before the finales start.
For a moment, you consider telling him something - a secret you’d long held. Something he should know.
“Take care of yourself, bro. I’ll talk to you soon, alright?” he says, before you can formulate the words.
“Yeah,” you answer. The secret dies on your lips.Talking about her was the last thing you wanted to do. “Soon, bro.”
---
At the hospital, your sister tells you to go home - she’d gotten some time off work and could watch your mom for a while. You often fought with your sister in the way siblings do, but you loved her, and she loved you, and her insistence that you “go home and shower the depression off” was her way of showing it.
Your apartment wasn’t as kind to you as you’d hoped it would be.
Relics of the past few years are everywhere - tour merch, clothes and trinkets and souvenirs from the cities you’d visited on tour, photos of you and some combination of Pikachu or Buzz or even a few of the girls at some bar in Mexico City, a coffee shop in Prague, in front of the Space Needle in Seattle. Nayeon and Jeongyeon looking like an old married couple as they posed in front of the Eiffel Tower. Mina looking ethereal on the foggy streets of Berlin. Chaeyoung in Amsterdam at a thrift shop, smiling brightly at Pikachu, standing next to her with arms full with a pile of clothes she was going to try on.
And then, a framed picture - you and Sana somewhere in Tokyo, before the tour. Chaeyoung had snapped it with one of those silly vintage film cameras of hers, and it’s suitably artsy - a little out of focus, a little more candid than either of you were expecting. But your arm is around her, and you’re both a little tipsy from the half-empty wine bottle on the table beside you, and she’s smiling at you like-
You swear. You grasp the frame and hurl it across the room. You don’t hear the crash it makes as it slams into the wall. You bury your face in your hands.
The shattered glass glitters like stars on your living room carpet.
The past floods back, merciless.
---
“It fucking sucks.”
“I know it does,” you answer. “But they don’t know, Sana. They don’t know.”
She sighs, her breath a warm rush of air against your collarbone. She nuzzles closer into your neck, and her hair fills your nostrils with her scent - she smells like springtime, like something new, something bright.
“It’s all they see,” she continues, her voice weak in a way none of her fans have ever heard. “They see the ads, the fashion shows. I’m just a mannequin. The lipstick. The sports bra. My tits pushed up to my chin on stage-”
“They’re great tits,” you answer, softly, a nervous smile wobbly on your lips - one that you’re relieved to find is mirrored on her own.
“They’re great tits,” she repeats, playfully, and she straightens her back slightly and gives them a little shake. They’re small, modest, and on stage they’re more bra than breast - not that you gave a damn, not when they’re there, in front of you, and they’re naked and bare, nipples still tight and taut. After you’ve looked your fill she settles back against you, wrapping an arm around your torso and a warm, naked thigh over yours. You can feel the heat between her legs, and the neat patch of hair above her cunt on your hip. A trickle of something warm drips onto your hip.
“I just wish they saw more,” she continues.
You lie there with her in a long but not uncomfortable silence. She makes a pillow of your shoulder and chest. Your left hand weaves through her hair, the silken strands falling between your fingers at the end of each stroke.
“I don’t,” you say.
She looks up at you, those doe eyes of hers wide.
“You don’t?” she asks, surprised.
“No,” you answer. Your free hand reaches up to the side of her face, brushing a few strands of hair aside and behind her ear. “I don’t want anyone else to see what I see.”
She scoffs, hisses through her teeth in the way she does when you do something silly, which was often. “You’re just saying that because you’re the one that gets to fuck me, and you’re a selfish shit.”
“Maybe,” you answer, “but I don’t think the whole world needs to see the Sana that I see.”
She props her chin up on your chest. Her eyes are wide and her cheeks full and she looks like something someone drew for a manga.
“I don’t want to the world to see the girl that cries over cheesy slice-of-life animes,” you continue. “I don’t want them to know that you hate olives, or that you think Sailor Venus was the best sailor scout. I don’t want them to know what sound you make when you cum, or the way your forehead wrinkles when you’re thinking too hard.”
Her forehead wrinkles. You reach up and forcefully smooth the skin down, and she smiles.
“You’re a real sweet talker. But you’ve already got me naked and in your arms and I’m dripping your cum on the sheets. You can cut the sweet stuff.”
“No, I don’t think I will.”
She kisses you, and her lips are soft and sweet in the way your words try to be.
“Let them see the mannequin,” you say, softly. “Let them see the idol, the model. They don’t need to see what’s beneath. They don’t deserve it.”
Her eyes are glassy, watery. “The important people deserve the real Sana,” you continue. “Save the real Sana for the girls. For your family and friends.”
You almost add ‘for me.’ Two simple words, and they’re right there, right there on the tip of your tongue and it would take just a slight rush of air, a small vibration of your vocal chords and they would be there, out in the open, between you and her - a declaration, a statement, a demand.
But the words don’t come. She’s here, in your arms, and her eyes tell you she’s waiting for them, but they don’t come.
The moment passes. She nuzzles back into your neck and you feel something moist hit your chest beneath her eyes.
“You’re too good to me,” she says, and it’s an accusation and a warning.
You ignore both.
---
You’re angry again when you wake up. Did you dream it all? It was all so vivid, so real, that it felt like you were inhabiting your past self for a few moments.
You can almost feel her warm body on top of yours, almost feel her tears on your chest.
But she’s gone, and you’re alone, and the past doesn’t matter anymore, because the past is past, and she’s still gone, and you’re still alone.
The glass still glitters on your carpet - traitorous, mocking shards of light.
---
She liked to dance. Half-naked. Drunk.
You’re in a hotel room somewhere in Europe, a ridiculously expensive one that had a nightly rate that probably approached half or more of your paycheque. You’re a few weeks removed from that quiet night together, when she confessed her discontent with how she was seen by the world. You’re also a few hours removed from when she was on stage, dancing and singing and looking for all the world like the perfect idol, the perfect model - performing for people that saw her as just that and nothing else.
You’d been ready to call it a night and head to sleep after a long day - concert days were always utterly exhausting - but Sana had called, and you’d heeded it. You always did. The other girls were busy, or off doing their own thing, she’d said, and she was bored and wanted someone to drink with.
You knew for a fact that the girls were either off with Pikachu and/or Buzz, or off having their own after-party at some bar in the city - and that Sana wasn’t invited to either. But you keep that to yourself.
She’s gorgeous, all perfect skin and long limbs and long, flowing hair that’s free and unbound, without hairclips or ties or the myriad of ridiculous sprays and products that her stylists use to have her hair fall just so.
She’s wearing a simple thong that does little to hide the curve of that cute little ass of hers - and a sports bra from that brand she hates, the one that presented her like she was a gym rat when in reality she hated even the idea of working out. It pushes her tits together and up, almost to her chin, the way she hates, but right now she doesn’t care. She’s too busy dancing.
She’s dancing to the group’s latest song, the one about having a strategy. It’s a choreography you’ve seen a hundred times, but not while she’s drunk and has a near-empty bottle of some local beer with a name you can’t pronounce in one hand, not while she’s in her underwear, and certainly not for an audience of one - yourself.
“Step four, got you on the floor
Make you say, “More, more, more!”
She sways and flails her arms around in a mockery of the actual choreography, before giving up altogether and taking a long swig from her bottle that drains it. She wipes her mouth clean with the back of a hand, before giving you a wicked smile.
The song continues in the background, playing in shrill, piercing notes from her phone, but all you hear are the words leaving her mouth - each slowed and slurred by alcohol. The drinks blur the sharp edges of the world, and make her more gorgeous than you’d ever seen her.
“Say it,” she says, the words leaving her mouth in a tipsy mumble. “Say the words.”
From the hotel room couch, you stare at her, puzzled and enraptured all at once.
“What words?”
“From the song. ‘More, more, more.’ Say it.”
You smile at her. She’s swaying - drunk, swaying, more beautiful than she was on stage mere hours before, when she was in front of thousands.
She gently tosses the empty bottle at you, which you catch. Her hands go to the hem of her sports bra.
“Say it,” she says playfully, the cutesy voice snapping back like a mask she’d slipped on - trying and failing to sound threatening, her silly smile and blushing cheeks betraying her futile attempt to seem so. “Say it, and I’ll strip for you.”
“Sana,” you say. “You’re drunk. I’m drunk.”
“Say it!” she says, her voice lower now, closer to a growl, but it’s playful, and not at all threatening.
You slouch on the couch, defeated. Your mouth opens. “More, more, more,” you say, out of tune.
The bra comes off. She pulls it over those small, round breasts of hers, over her head and her long, luxurious hair. She lets it dangle from her fingers, before she tosses it at your face.
Before you can even process it she’s on you - straddling you on the couch, hands in your hair, mouth crushing yours. Her lips are eager and hot and slick and you kiss her back, your tongue finding hers, your hands wrapping themselves around her body. Your fingers claw at her, dig at her soft, warm skin, squeezing a firm ass cheek, caressing the dip of her spine.
“You want me, don’t you?” she says, the words a harsh tumble, a breathy gasp between kisses. She’s kissing you hard, pressing your lips almost painfully against your teeth. “Say you want me,” she says - her tone a demand now, a low tone, a far cry from the cutesy tone of moments before.
“I want you, Sana,” you answer, the words coming from somewhere raw and primal inside you, a place of instinct and old desire.
She breaks the kiss. Her face hovers just a few inches from yours. Her cheeks are flush with the alcohol, but her eyes are clear - bright, shining, glimmering in a way that you’ve seen nowhere else in your life.
“You want me, right? Me. Me.”
“Yes,” you answer, on instinct. “Yes, Sana. You.”
She kisses you again. It’s rough and almost painful as her teeth graze your lips - but she soothes it with a swipe of her tongue. She captures your upper lip between both of hers and sucks. Your hands land on her ass and you squeeze each cheek, making her break the kiss to moan softly into your mouth.
You kiss a trail - down her cute little chin, down that slender, swan-like neck of hers, to her upper chest. Your tongue drags along her collarbone. Then you dip your head, find the tight, taut nipple atop her left breast, and latch onto it with your lips. You suckle.
She gasps. She swears. She writhes.
“Fuck,” she gasps into your ear, the word leaving her lips like a growl, sounding very much unlike the idol, very much unlike the mannequin that brands dress in their clothes and trot out in front of the cameras. “Fuck, it feels so good when you do that.”
Your tongue works its magic on her. Months of fucking this woman have shown you what to do, taught you how to wrest a gasp or moan from those sweet lips of hers. The tip of your tongue swirls around her nipple, first clockwise then counter-clockwise, pressure constant, maintaining suction with your lips.
She’s trembling now, her hands digging painful furrows into your scalp. She’s hot and drunk and bothered and she needs more, so you give it to her.
You switch to her right breast, lathering it with the same attention you gave her first. Your hand leaves her ass to squeeze her free breast, streaked now with your saliva. You capture her nipple between your index finger and thumb and give the tight bud a pinch. She moans and gasps. You grunt, deep and raw, against her nipple as she begins to gyrate atop your painfully hard cock, still trapped beneath your sweats.
“Ohh, you like that, do you?” she hisses in your ear, a question with an obvious answer - one that leaves your mouth in an involuntary groan.
“You like fucking me, don’t you? Love having the hottest, most popular girl in the group - in Korea - on your cock.”
“Fuck, Sana, just-”
“You love knowing the girl from the stage, the girl in all the ads, the girl on everyone’s phone - you love that she’s gonna ride your cock until you fill her with your cum, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sana. I do. Just fucking put it in-”
“What would the fans think? What would they say, if they found out their perfect angel from the MVs and variety shows and makeup ads loves begging for her fucktoy’s cock?”
“Sana-”
“-like a fucking dirty little whore.”
“You’re not, you’re not just a-”
“Say it, Woody,” she says, your pet name leaving her lips in a hot, sexy hiss directly into your ear. “Say it again, toy.”
She grinds on your cock - and you can feel her hot wetness, even through her soaked thong and your moistened sweats - from the base of your cock to its tip.
“More-” you hiss through your teeth. “-more, more.”
One hand grasps the back of your scalp, pulls your head backward so her eyes can look directly into yours. They’re dark, those eyes - half-lidded, dark, filled with something dark and dangerous.
There’s something else in them, too. Something that looks like insecurity. Something that looks like sadness.
The other hand reaches between you. They grasp the waistband of your sweats and pull them down, freeing your painfully stiff cock.
“Such a good little toy,” she spits. “Suck a nice cock for me to fuck myself on. A good fuck. That’s all you want, isn’t it? A good fuck. That’s all you ever wanted from me.”
Silence - for a split second. Something flickers in her eyes.
“Sana-”
She frees your sore scalp from her hand, uses it to reach between you and pull her flimsy little thong aside. With her other hand she guides your tip to her cunt and in that split second before she slides down your shaft you can feel the heat of her on your tip.
A drop of her juices drips from her lips and onto your shaft. She slides down your cock.
The breath leaves your lungs and hers. You’d had this woman probably hundreds of times in the last two years, and this moment never failed to take your breath away - or hers. You’d had her in every way imaginable, in every place, sometimes with other men or women sharing the experience. But you never tired of the excitement, the intensity, and the pleasure of this moment.
She doesn’t waste her time. Not tonight. Not when she was needy and full of your cock and more than a little drunk - on alcohol, on the adoration of her fans, on you.
She rides you. The alcohol lends her passion but takes her coordination in exchange, and she’s sloppy and her rhythm isn’t what it is when she’s sober. It’s rough and messy. Her pace falters, then quickens when she realizes she’s slacking, then slows again when your tip hits a particular spot inside her.
For a few moments you’re paralyzed by the sight and feel of her. She’s gorgeous and naked and sweaty and you watch as a drop of sweat makes its way down her neck and upper chest and onto your tongue, where you lick it off her slick skin. She’s hot and tight and wet. She’s moaning and sighing and gasping. She’s everything and it’s already almost two much, just a few minutes in.
Your hands tighten around her hips as they grind up and down on your lap, taking your cock in and out of her body with each movement. Her own hands brace herself on your shoulders. She’s sober enough to remember what you like. She’s lucid enough to remember that you loved it when she moved her hips in those small little circular motions - a motion that grinds her slick, taut clit against your crotch with each movement.
Those small, round breasts of hers sway in front of you, nipples taut. The sports bra she hated so much left sore red marks on her skin where they confined and shaped her torso into something it wasn’t. You bend and drag your tongue along the horizontal line beneath her breasts that its ribbing left behind. One of her hands grasps the back of your skull again, and pulls it towards her left breast. You suckle from her nipple again.
“Such a good fucking toy for me,” she says, the words leaving her lips in a messy, half-slurred tumble. Your mouth on her nipple draws a gasp from her throat before she continues. “You feel so big inside me, baby.”
You switch to her other breast, taking her nipple between your mouth and sucking hard. She moans in response. Her back arches, giving you more of her. Her pace quickens.
“Fuck, fuck,” she gasps. “Love your- ah - love your mouth on my tits.”
You want to respond, but couldn’t tear your lips away from her sweat-slick nipple long enough to say anything.
“They’re so small,” she says, softer now, a little quieter. “Not - oh, fuck, yeah right there - not as… as big without the bra. The fucking… the fucking fanboys want the big tits, though-”
That’s when your mouth leaves her. Your eyes find hers.
“You’re perfect-”
Your words are cut off when her hand finds your scalp again, nails digging deep into your scalp this time. She ceases her movements, leaving you hilt deep inside you. Her eyes find yours. They’re red and glassy - from the beer and the pleasure and something else. She’s angry and upset and somehow fragile, all at the same time.
“Shut the fuck up,” she snaps. “Shut up. Just shut up and fuck me.”
She releases your scalp. She resumes her pace. Your cock slides in and out of her slick, hot little cunt. You want to say something, want to stop, even - but she’s one of the most gorgeous women in the world, quite literally your dream girl, and that stupid, all-consuming, primal need for pleasure overcomes your concern for her wellbeing. The animal part of you wins. It often did.
You grasp her hips instead. That same animal part that renders you unable to think of anything else drives you, gives you that irresistible need to claim her, make her yours. You drive up with your hips as best you can despite your position and her weight on your lap, spearing your cock into her slick cunt, timing each thrust to meet the moment she grinds down on you.
She gasps, moans, screams at one point when you hit a spot inside her that makes her see stars. She whispers filth - about her body, about her ownership of you, about what you’re doing to her cunt.
But you hear none of it. You hear something else - something she’s not saying.
I’m lonely, she says. I’m afraid they love me for my body and for my face and not for my heart.
Her head, which had been thrown back after a particularly deep and throaty moan, bends forward to find yours. Her hair falls around her face, framing it in waves the color of chocolate. Her eyes look for and find and lock on to yours.
“Gonna… fuck, I’m gonna cum.”
“Do it, Sana. Show me.”
“You want it, don’t you? Want this hot cunt to cum on your cock. Want this fucking whore from the ads to- to-”
“I want you, Sana-”
“Fuck, fuck, oh god, fuck!”
Her body surrenders to something deep and primal within her. Her torso locks up; her thighs quiver as they tighten as best they can around your hips; her spine arches as she throws her head back and lets a broken, throaty moan leave her spit-slick lips. Her cunt squeezes and pulsates around your cock, almost painfully.
It takes her a while to recover. She collapses into your arms, breathing heavily. She’s buried her face in your neck. You stroke her hair with one hand, trace the elegant line of her spine with the other. You feel a trickle of her juices slide down the base of your shaft and down your balls.
Eventually, she gathers herself. She brings her mouth to your ear, and with a voice that is a far cry from the cutesy, airy tone she uses in front of the cameras, she whispers.
“Your turn.”
You grasp her torso, press it to yours, and turn her onto her back on the couch. She lets out a soft little yelp, and her breasts give the most adorable little bounce. Her lips curl into a surprised smile. You smile back. You stay there for a second, on top of her, your cock still buried inside her and a drunk, silly smile on both of your faces. It’s short, fleeting, but it was there.
Then you start fucking her.
She gasps and moans and cries. The same mouth that was making cutesy noises and talking to her fans is swearing now, spilling filth and obscenities with each thrust you make into her tight little cunt.
“Fuck! Fuck, fuck me harder, god, just fucking use me-”
Her pleas are cut short when you hook your arms under her knees and push them against her chest. She’s folded in half now, her legs near horizontal against her own chest. She’s defenseless. You start drilling her into the mattress. She can’t do much else than just take each hard, deep thrust - not that she would want to.
You fuck her so hard into the mattress that you’re grunting with each thrust, heavy exhalations of air with each movement, as though you were powering through a set at the gym. She’s quiet now - the voice fucked out of her - her mouth open in a frozen O, her eyes curling towards the back of her head. There’s only the hot, repeated slap of skin, the protests of the couch beneath the two of you, and the slick, wet sound of your cock slamming in and out of Minatozaki Sana’s tight little cunt.
“You like that, Sana?” you manage to spit through gritted teeth. “Like how I fuck you?”
“Y-yes-” she answers, just barely. Her fingers claw at your biceps, seeking something to ground herself amidst the assault your fucking is placing on her body. It’s almost too much, and her body screams at her to beg you to stop - but the thought doesn’t even enter her mind. Not when it’s too good, you’re too deep, and you’re pushing her closer and closer to-
“You’re so fucking tight, Sana,” you spit as you lean down to kiss her deeply. She moans into your mouth. You’re fucking her all the while. Her knees bounce up and down in your peripheral vision, and her feet dangle helplessly above your head. “So fucking tight. I love using this pussy. Love using you-”
You almost regret saying the words as they leave your mouth. It’s almost too much. It reduces her to something less than what she is. It reduces her to a toy. It makes her a-
“Yes! Fuck, fuck yes - ah, oh god - just use me. Use my body. Cum inside me, breed me, just fucking use me!”
You fuck her harder. Your cock pistons in and out of her body and you forget any semblance of care for her or her wellbeing, physical or mental. She’s just a cunt now, just a warm wet hole - one that’s tight and pulsating and squeezing around you and she’s hissing now, begging in your ear, begging to be used just as you currently are, begging to be bred and filled with cum-
“Fuck, Sana I’m cumming, gonna cum inside you-”
“Do it, yes, use me. Use this fucking body. Use this cunt. Cum inside it!”
You bury yourself inside her. Her legs are pressed almost flat against her torso as you drive as deep as you can inside her tight, grasping cunt. You let go, and you fill her with thick, warm cum - long ropes of semen that paint her cunt white.
“Oh fuck, there’s so much - I can feel it. So warm. So thick. You’re filling me up, breeding me, fuck-”
You bury your face into her neck. It takes a long time for your senses to return to a functional state. You breathe deeply. Every inhale carries her scent - sweat, sex, something sweet, something Sana.
You let her legs fall from your arms. She keeps them tight around your hips. You give her small, grinding thrusts with your softening cock as you push your cum as deep inside her as it can go. She lets small whimpers leave her throat with each movement you make. They’re light, airy sounds. Wordless, but passionate.
You eventually gather the strength to raise yourself from her neck. Her face is one you’ll never tire of seeing - blissful, blushed, fucked-out and satisfied.
But her eyes are glassy. They look fragile. There’s something there-
-and it’s gone. A mask - that of the sly, sexy vixen she likes to occasionally wear with you and a select few others - snaps into place.
“Fuck, that was good,” she says, a wicked smile curling her lips - one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You fuck me so good, baby.”
You bend to kiss her. She kisses you back, her lips saying things that her voice never could.
She thinks she has you fooled, thinks you can’t see the version of her that is soft and vulnerable and more than a little insecure with her belief that no one would want to see it. She thinks her masks are too thick, her walls too high, and that all the world wants from Minatozaki Sana is the pretty mask and the pristine wall - but she’s wrong, even if she doesn’t know it.
Tomorrow the two of you will get on a flight to the next tour stop, right along with her group members and the dozens of other crew that are needed for such productions. Tomorrow night she’ll sing and dance and laugh and smile at thousands of fans, and for just a few hours, mask in place, she’ll belong to them.
But the Sana behind the masks and the walls belongs only to you, only if she only appears from behind them for a few seconds at a time.
---
“They don’t know what it is,” your sister says on the phone - six words that no one around the world wants to hear, followed up by three more: “They’re running tests.”
“Jesus Christ,” you swear, running a hand through your hair, damp with sweat. You’re suddenly sick. You hold your hand over your mouth for a moment, as though you were keeping this morning’s breakfast in your stomach.
“She doesn’t… she doesn’t look well,” she continues. “She says she’s fine, tells me not to worry, but-”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“No, it’s fine. For now. You shouldn’t come until we know what it is. Where are you, anyway?”
Your sister knew little about your job - enough to know that you did “backstage work” for some k-pop group and were often travelling, but that was the extent of it.
“Barcelona,” you answer, but it’s irrelevant now. “I’ll… I’ll talk to my boss, get some time off and-”
Your sister says your name. She says it in the tone she uses when she wants you to listen to her - the same one your mother used when she wanted the same.
“It’s fine,” she says. “Really. I’ll let you know as soon as the doctors talk to me. Then you can come visit if you can. But there’s no use in you taking time off work just to come home and realize this is all appendicitis or something stupid like that.”
You let a sigh out through your nose.
“Alright,” you relent, watching as Pikachu and Buzz struggle with a particularly large container of the girls’ stage costumes and other gear. Buzz motions for you to help. “You’ll let me know the second you hear anything?”
“Of course. Take care of yourself, you dipshit.”
“You too, shitface.”
You end the call, tossing your phone into your pocket. You hustle over to the guys and help them with the container. It takes all three of you to successfully heave the large black travel container into the back of the waiting truck.
“Woody!”
Each of your heads snap to the venue door, where Sana has poked her head out. She waves frantically to you, motioning you over. She’d probably lost her phone or her airpods or her camera again and needed help finding it - or rather, needed someone to find it for her.
Pikachu gives you a tap on the shoulder as you turn to head back to Sana.
“Everything good, bud? Call looked serious.”
“Yeah,” you answer. “Nothing crazy. Just some stuff from back home.”
“Need help with anything?” Buzz asks, genuine. You glance over at the venue door. Sana is standing there with arms crossed, foot tapping.
“No, not right now. I’m good. It’s just my mom, she’s going through some health stuff. That was my sister… she said they don’t know what it is yet, but that they’re gonna run some tests-”
“Woody!” she calls, again, a little more impatient this time.
You give Pikachu and Buzz an apologetic look.
“Hope the pussy’s worth it, bro,” Buzz says with a sigh, before turning towards the rest of the containers that were awaiting loading. Pikachu shoots you an apologetic look of his own before joining him.
You hurry over to Sana.
---
A lesser man would have been more distracted. Or would a lesser man have been less distracted? It’s hard to say. Your moral compass had been somewhat warped by the last two years and the ridiculous rollercoaster of events you’d found yourself on.
Moral quandaries aside, you had to admit - you were a little distracted by the news from home, even given what was happening in front of you.
The hot, wet slap of your hips against Sana’s ass was steady and grounding, in a way, giving you something to latch on to amidst the swirl of emotions and worries and general catastrophizing going on in your head. The usual chorus of moans and sighs that accompanied the slap of your hips against her ass was muffled somewhat, replaced by the occasional wet, slick gurgle and gasp that managed to escape her lips past the thick shaft filling her mouth.
You and Pikachu fall into a familiar rhythm as you take Sana from both ends, spitroasting her at a pace that threaded the line between being too rough and being just right. It was far from the first time you’d taken Sana with someone and it spoke of her own familiarity and ease with the arrangement that she was currently taking you both without a hint of discomfort.
“Fuck, she’s so good at this,” Pikachu hisses between gritted teeth. His hand glides through the dark chocolate strands of Sana’s hair, grasping the back of her skull as he thrusts into her mouth. “So good at taking cocks. One of the best in the group at taking more than one, honestly.”
“Yeah,” you agree, after a moment. As much as it shamed you to say it, your mind was elsewhere, despite being balls deep inside one of the most gorgeous women on earth. “She’s… she’s such a good slut for us,” you manage.
The praise sends a shiver down Sana’s spine - and results in her cunt squeezing just a little tighter around your cock as it pumps in and out of her. She lets something like a moan out around Pikachu’s shaft and it wrests a groan of pleasure from his throat, too.
She lets his cock slip from between her lips.
“Fuck,” she hisses. Saliva and pre-cum drip from the corners of her mouth and down that tiny little chin of hers. She nuzzles Pikachu’s cock, slathering her own, spit onto her pretty cheek, making it glisten in the low light of the hotel room. She looks back over her shoulder at you, and the intensity in her eyes grasps your full attention for a moment. “Fuck, you like using me, don’t you, boys?”
A reply forms on your lips. You knew this dance well, knew that she liked being praised for being a dirty little fucktoy even as she’s used like one. But the words don’t come. Thankfully, Pikachu had no such hesitations, nor your preoccupations.
“Fuck yes, Sana,” he snaps. “You’re being such a good fucktoy for us. So good at taking both cocks at once.”
“Then keep fucking me,” Sana sighs, eyes locking onto his. “Fuck me until you both cum inside me.”
She slips his cock back into his mouth. All the while you’re been fucking her, sliding in and out of her tight little cunt. The spitroast continues. The bed protests, singing its own song of squeaking springs and a wobbly frame as it supports the rough movements of the three people atop it.
Sana moans and Pikachu groans and you do your best to fuck her, to keep your mind in the present, but it’s not. Your body responds, though, thankfully, even if your mind and heart didn’t.
“Fuck, gonna cum,” Pikachu spits. He grasps Sana’s head with both hands and his pace quickens. Sana lets a wet gurgle of a moan out of her throat even as Pikachu uses it.
The telltale pleasure at the base of your spine builds. “Me too,” you manage, and for a moment the pleasure is all that exists, all other worry momentarily forced out by the sheer satisfaction of watching this woman, this woman from all the screens and ads and concerts, being used by you and one of your best friends.
“Fuck!” Pikachu hisses, and suddenly he’s holding Sana’s scalp against his crotch as he fills her throat with cum - and the sight of it triggers your own, and your grasping her hips tight enough to leave bruises as you bury yourself inside her cunt and let go.
Sana’s hands fly to Pikachu’s hips, nails digging into his thighs as she’s filled with hot, thick cum from both ends. The sensation of it triggers her own orgasm, and for a few wonderful moments the three of you are locked in a pleasure so deep and all-consuming that it burns away anything else resembling a coherent thought.
Sana eventually wrests her head from Pikachu’s grasp, his slick cock slipping from between her lips. Some of his cum dribbles from her lips, but most of it is still in her mouth and the back of her throat, and you watch as she locks eyes with Pikachu before swallowing it all down.
You pull out of her, slowly, delighting in the sight of her well-fucked cunt quickly dripping your semen, appearing from her lips as a thick white mess before falling in heavy drops onto the ruined sheets.
Sana drops onto her side. Well-fucked, slick with sweat, chest heaving. Cum drips from her cunt and the corner of her mouth.
She locks eyes with you, but the look in her eyes is empty.
---
“You were distracted.”
She’s on her side, facing away from you, sheets drawn up to her chest - something she only did when she was upset with you. Everything about it was an accusation. You reach out and trace an idle pattern on her shoulder. Pikachu had left soon after the fucking had ended, mumbling something about catching up with Chaeyoung, leaving the two of you alone in a Barcelona hotel room that felt heavy with something unsaid.
“I wasn’t,” you lie. “I was just…”
“Just what?”
“Just… I don’t know. I’m tired. Been a long day.”
She finally turns her head to look at you. Brow furrowed, and eyebrows curled in a look of disbelief. She doesn’t say anything, just holds your eyes for a second before turning back to her side.
“Sure,” she says. “Whatever.”
“Sana-”
“You’ve been somewhere else since before the concert tonight,” she says.
It’s quiet for a moment. It was true; your sister’s call and your mother’s condition had been at the very top of your mind, even throughout the entirety of the concert and the post-concert sex that usually followed each event.
“I… just some stuff from back home,” you admit. “I might need to take some time away.”
Even with her back turned, the effect of your words is obvious. She tenses up, curls a little more into her pillow.
“Then go. Leave.”
Her words hit you with a little more force than you were ready for.
“Sana, you don’t understand. I don’t want to leave, it’s just-”
“Just what?” she says, turning onto her back. The sheet slips from her chest, leaving her breasts bare - but she doesn’t move to cover herself. “Now that you’ve fucked me all over the world you don’t need me anymore, is that it?”
“That’s not what I said, Sana.”
“It’s what you want to say,” she says. She turns onto her side again. “Go. Leave. I’ll tell the other managers you quit.”
The word upsets you - the idea that you would willingly leave this life is so ridiculous to you that it takes you a few moments to gather the words for a response.
“Sana, I’m not going to quit. I just need some time away, that’s all.”
“Whatever,” she says. “I can always find another man. Pick another toy out of the next fucking crowd.”
Her words hit hard, cause a lump of something unpleasant to form in your chest.
“Sana, please. You’re being unreasonable.”
“It’s fine. Go, leave. Quit. I’m used to being alone.”
“Alone? You have the girls-”
Sana lets out an indignant breath through her nose. “Please. They all hate me.”
“What?”
“They all hate me,” she repeats. “They barely want to work with me. You must know it by now. All that OT9, friends forever bullshit. Just a fucking act.”
“But … Momo and Mina? Your unit-”
“They hate me the most,” she answers, voice soft and vulnerable in a way you’d never heard it. “They all do. They think I’m some spoiled, attention-seeking brat. Nayeon tolerates me, and that’s because I do what she wants. You’re the only one that-... the only one who-”
She stops herself. She curls a little more into the side of the bed, as though she were protecting herself.
Silence reigns. She was right - the past few years of working with the girls had made it clear that the closeness they showed in front of the camera had been a well-orchestrated act, a perfectly-crafted mask, one put in place by the label to sell albums on the idea of a tight-knit, unbreakable bond between the girls. In truth they were like any other group of people - some got along, some didn’t, some were loved and some were hated.
You want to tell her about the call from your sister. You want to tell her about your mother. But you can’t, because you never could tell Minatozaki Sana the truth. From the moment she extended her hand and pointed at you at that concert two years ago her wish had been your command, and the very thought of upsetting her was anathema to you. The guys and some of the girls had teased you about it - about how you were more whipped than the others, more slave than fucktoy.
The truth was Sana had changed your life two years ago at that concert, and through her you’d been able to experience things that you could’ve never imagined in your wildest dreams - the sex, the travel, the money. The others saw it as slavish devotion, but in truth it was thankfulness. If being at her every beck and call was what you had to do to express even a modicum of the thankfulness she deserved for the life she had given you, then you did it gladly.
Some days, you thought that what you were feeling was something akin to love, and you deluded yourself into thinking that perhaps the great Minatozaki Sana might share in your feelings. You saw it sometimes in the way she nuzzled into your neck after sex, the way she smiled at you as she passed by you in a concert venue, the way she told you things she’d never tell the others - not even the girls. You spent most of your days together. Somedays, your face was the only familiar one she saw. You knew her better than you’d known anyone else in your life.
Your life revolved around her. She was at the center of it all. She was everything. She was, in many ways, the most important person in your world.
Your family was the only thing more important.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” you say, because it’s all you can say in that moment.
“No, you won’t,” Sana says. “You’re going to leave me. You’ve spent two years fucking the idol, making her your whore, and you don’t need her anymore.”
“Sana-”
“Leave,” she says, in a way that brooks no argument, even if her voice begins to waver. “Leave. Quit your position, or I’ll tell the managers to fire you. Either way, you’re done with us. With the company. With me.”
She doesn’t turn to face you. Not even when you leave the room.
---
The next week is a blur. The very next day you got a call from someone at the JYP head office, informing you your contract with the company had been terminated at the request of someone in the group. You were on a plane back home the day after that.
Pikachu and Buzz did their best to intervene, but in this company the word of the girls was law. The second Sana expressed a desire to get rid of you, the company moved quickly. Before the week was out the whirlwind of the last two years had suddenly and painfully drawn to a close, and you found yourself back home in an apartment that felt very little like home.
---
The month that followed seemed surreal - in the way that normal life seems when you’d spent the last two years living a high that you still weren’t sure was actually real.
But spending too many hours next to a hospital bed had made everything depressingly, soberingly real.
Sana had spared the time to drop by your home city on her way back to Seoul from the final show in Europe. It was on the way, she’d said, and she had some other business in the city to attend to. Probably some appearance at a fashion show, or some brand hiring her to put on their jewelry or dress and look pretty for a few hours. You had no idea. You weren’t privy to her schedule, not any more.
And so she dropped by, broke your heart in a coffee shop, and left.
Clips from the girls’ European finale concert in London stream on your phone, its tinny speakers and tiny screen a far cry from the deep thump of the music, the rush of coordination between managers and makeup artists and stylists and backup dancers and the rest of the small army it took to put on a show.
You should have been there. You should have been running around with Pikachu to ensure Dahyun’s piano was on stage in the right place in time for her solo. Jihyo always needed reassurance that her mic was in working order and you were one of the few people she trusted enough with her equipment. Jeongyeon had a silly habit of throwing her cowboy hat into the pit between the stage and the crowd with each solo performance, and the task had fallen to you to retrieve it every night.
But you weren’t there, in London, in a packed arena amidst thousands of fans. You were in your home city, next to a hospital bed. You watch on your phone as Sana begins her solo.
She was so far away.
---
Few things in your life could measure to the relief that came when the doctor gave you and your sister your mother’s diagnosis. Her condition could be easily managed with medication, and after some recovery while her body got used to the drugs, her quality of life would be near where it was before her hospital stay. You could almost feel the giant, oppressive weight being lifted from the shoulders of you and your sister, and while you often bickered and fought the way siblings do, you’d both spent a few minutes hugging in the room after the doctor had left.
You’re getting ready for your mother’s discharge from the hospital when you and your sister approach the nursing station to inquire about the bill.
“Your mother’s good to go,” said the nurse, a middle aged woman with kind but tired eyes.
Your sister gives you a look before turning back to the nurse. “Right, so, uh, should we expect the bill in the mail? Or-”
The nurse gives a sigh as she hits a few keys on her keyboard. Something flashes up on the screen.
“No, you’re settled up.”
You stand there in silence for a while.
“I don’t understand,” you say. The nurse gives another tired sigh, not bothering to look up at either you or your sister. Her mind was clearly already on her next patient.
“Your bill’s been paid,” she states, with a tone that one uses when they want to end a conversation. She gets up off her chair, gathers a clipboard, and leaves the nursing station - off to help another patient. “Make sure you don’t leave anything behind in that room. Have a good day, dears.”
---
“Things are good,” Pikachu says between sips of his beer. “And yeah, things are… good with her.”
“That’s awesome, bro. I’m happy for you two.”
“Yeah,” Pikachu says, a small smile perking up the corners of his mouth. “I still have to pinch myself sometimes. The Son Chaeyoung? Wild. I’m living a fucking Tumblr fanfic.”
You raise your own beer in a toast. He taps his against yours and you both take a long sip.
“Bro,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “Now that I’m out of it… I… I hope you figure things out between Chaeyoung and the girls.”
Since you’d left the company, Pikachu had been candid in sharing Chaeyoung’s issues with the rest of the group, Nayeon in particular. The last conversation you’d had with Sana about her tense relationship with the girls was still fresh in your mind, and the last thing you wanted to see was Pikachu getting caught in the group’s internal conflicts.
He sucks air through his teeth. “Yeah,” he admits, “shit’s not great between her and the rest of the group. They all have their little rivalries, their little squabbles. Some more serious than others. The other managers and the company haven't picked up on it yet, but it’s there. They hate each other. Some of them do, anyway. You know how girls are.”
“Yeah,” you agree, taking a long sip from your beer. “I do. But you should know - it goes deeper than you think. Nayeon’s sneaky. I’d watch out for that one. Same with Momo and Mina. They… have ulterior motives, I think. I… might have overheard things about them plotting to break you two up.”
Pikachu doesn’t seem surprised, which is both surprising and worrying. “That doesn’t surprise me. I… I’m going to work through it with Chaeyoung. Hopefully find a way that doesn’t involve the group imploding.”
“Good, good. How’s Buzz?”
Pikachu sighs, steering his gaze out the window of the bar and onto the streets of Hongdae. “He’s… he’s alright. He’s filming his drama, so I don’t see him as often as I used to. He’s good, otherwise. Just busy.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Yeah… anything to distract himself from her, I guess.”
You didn’t need to be told anything further. You wished you’d been there to comfort Buzz the way he’d been there to help you while you dealt with your mother’s hospital stay.
“We need to hang out before I head back home,” you say. “The three of us. I’m here until the end of the week.”
It hadn’t been that long since you’d last been in Seoul - really only two months had passed since you’d left for the European leg of the girls’ tour that had seen Sana get you fired from the company - but it already felt like a homecoming of sorts. With your mother doing much better, you’d finally had the time to head back to gather your things from the Seoul apartment the company had set you up in while you worked for the girls. Pikachu and Buzz had been helpful in getting your stuff packed and in the mail to be sent back home.
She hadn’t contacted you, despite Pikachu and Buzz telling her you were in town. No calls. Not even a text.
“For sure, bro,” Pikachu says. “Maybe we invite some of the girls? You know Jeongyeon’s always down for a drink. Tzuyu’s birthday’s coming up, and you know how wild she gets after a few. Dahyun, maybe? I’ll bring Chaeyoung... I think the other girls might be busy, though…”
No mention of her, though. Pikachu catches on to what you’re thinking.
“Hey man, I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and her,” he continues. “She was… she is… she’s a bit of a handful. The things Chaeyoung’s told me about her…”
“Honestly,” you begin, “it’s good that she ended things with me when she did. It forced me to go back to my family. If she hadn’t gotten me fired I would’ve stayed. My mom’s okay now, but it was touch and go there for a little bit. If I hadn’t gone home, and if something shitty happened and I missed it… I never would’ve forgiven myself.”
“It all works out, I guess,” Pikachu says, but his eyes are on his bottle of beer, his fingers picking away at the label, thoughtful.
“Thankfully, the company paid for the hospital bill.”
Pikachu’s eyes shoot up to yours, and his brow furrows. “What?”
“The company. JYP. They paid for my mom’s hospital bill. It was a pretty hefty one too, considering all the tests they ran and the treatment plan they have for her. I’m dropping by the building later to thank the big guy himself, personally.”
Pikachu stares at you for a long moment, before a look of disbelief washes across his features.
“Bro, there’s no way the company’s gonna pay for some random staff member’s family hospital bill. JYP’s not a bad dude, but we’re supposed to be the girls’ secrets, remember? There’s no way JYP would pay for your mom’s hospital bill and risk having it linked back to the girls or the company - let alone go all the way over to your hometown to pay it. How would they even know what hospital your mom was at, anyway?”
“Then who… You? Buzz? You were in Europe with the girls. No one else knew about my mom. Who would-”
The two of you stare at each other for a while. Realization dawns.
The smallest of smiles appears on Pikachu’s lips as he takes another sip of his beer.
---
Just as coming back to Seoul felt like a homecoming of sorts, so too did going to the concert feel like slipping back into a life you thought you’d left behind.
The boom of the music, the staff members and security hustling around in the background and beneath the 360 stage, carrying mics and bottled water and discarded cowboy hats - it all felt intensely familiar.
But you were in the crowd, not behind the barriers. There was no earpiece in your ear with the head manager telling you to fetch a new flat of water, or to find Momo’s mic, or get in place to set up Tzuyu’s bars for her solo performance. There was just the boom of the bass and the shouts and screams of the fans next to you - fans that had no idea that the man next to them had, just a few months ago, lived a life that they would have killed to experience with the girls they were paying to see.
Pikachu had been a real bro and set you up with VIP tickets for the pit, just a few feet from the stage. And there she is - right there, her back turned as the central stage covering rises and the concert begins to thunderous applause. She hasn’t seen you yet.
It doesn’t take long. It happens right at the end of the first song, when the group formation brings her in front of you.
Minatozaki Sana sees you. Her eyes lock onto yours - the same way they did two years ago, when she smiled and pointed at you and quite literally picked you out of the crowd. Her eyes widen in surprise - and then soften. Seconds pass. Her eyes are glassy.
You smile at her. She smiles back. She raises her hand - slowly, tentatively, and points at you.
She picks you again.
---
Author’s Note: That song’s been in my head for years now and I knew I had to write a story around it. And Sana is Sana, so…
…honestly, I probably fumbled a couple of the details with the ongoing Toy storyline. That’s what happens when you go a literal year and a half between entries. I’ve been thinking about wrapping up the story and I think I’ll do that in the next couple of chapters, just so people finally get some closure on this. See you in 2030 for the eventual Toy finale ;)
Thank you all for your ongoing support, despite my now bi-annual fic drops. Kazuha fic still in the works, and maybe more Ryujin.
Be excellent to yourselves and to each other. The world needs it. <3
Comm: A Breastful Evening from Karina's Point of View
(Karina x Male Lover, 2.2k Words) Tags: Karina's POV; She's a classy gal, She gives classy tittyfucks, Loss of virginity, Outraged crushes, Cleavage creampies, Multiple Penetration, Dear lord her tits look huge in that dress
I smile up at him, my eyes devouring his every nervous twitch and hesitant movement, his every tentative action revealing a truth any experienced woman could discern. Virgin. Not that I have a particular lust for the inexperienced, but any woman harbors that sordid satisfaction of being a man's First, his entry-point into the realm of adulthood, the standard by which all future partners will be judged. He shudders as his gaze roams my body, drinking in the sight of a real woman, not some pampered girl who flees the very thought of sex, but someone who is willing to give him everything. I could give him myself, but where would be the fun in that? That initial pleasure of feeling him inside me, those hesitant first thrusts... all ruined a few moments later when he loses control and plasters my folds with his first load. So boring. So banal. Better to draw things out, to make him crave release, to carve my body into his brain so deeply that this moment might never be surpassed. With a lazy smirk I position myself in front of him, "Are you ready?" I politely enquire, and he moans,
"Yes... Karina, please..."
I cannot remember his name, nor does that fact particularly bother me. It was a classy affair, lots of flash and glitter and expense. Expensive outfits, expensive jewelry, expensive escorts; that last section included me. Looking attractive is already part of my job, we idols just do it so well, that few can resist our charms. My initial partner certainly could not, which was why I left him sprawled in the handicapped bathroom with his pants around his ankles and his balls like raisins. And the part had only been going on for barely over an hour when I had sashayed out of that reeking bathroom, so I had time to kill and entertainment to find. And lo, there he was. Some ripe young man simply ogling the passing women-flesh on display, some immature girls fluttering about him, obviously childhood friends too busy bickering to claim the prize they both have been hankering after for God knows how many years. Oh well, perhaps they will learn to pluck their fruit before someone else does.
All it took was a shy smile, the most teasing of comments, the slight touch of my hand against his arm, the subtly lean of my body so that his eyes nearly fell down my cleavage. I was mildly impressed he had not tried to take me then and there. But as I stressed, this was a classy affair, so instead I idly guided him into one of those decorated nooks and crannies that seem to populate any party of sufficient stature; lust requires some privacy in polite society after all. My how his little birds had chirped as I led him away, not realizing what a favor I was doing them, virgins can be so disappointing if one does not enjoy them with the correct mindset, which they wouldn't have. The first several niches I glanced into were occupied, indeed, I had spotted my dear groupmate Ningning in one of them squirting wildly all over her partner, I had shared a glance of acknowledgement, and then I had moved on. But the fifth cubby had been empty, and even sported a chair with an assortment of pillows scattered about. Perfect.
He had wavered at the precipice, uncertainty warring with lust, no doubt his mother had sternly ordered him to beware gorgeous women offering themselves to him, fearful of him coming home with some unworthy slut with a full belly. But his mother can rest easy, I have no interest in bearing his child. I glanced over my shoulder, raising an innocent eyebrow, and cordially invited him to join me, giving him my playful face, the one that makes my fans croon. It worked. Obviously. And soon he was nervously ensconced in the seat, while I kicked some pillows in front of it, kneeling on marble is rather unpleasant after all, no doubt all sorts of ideas running through his silly little head. Then I knelt before him, flashed a winning smile, and oh so tenderly slid my hands long his legs before oh so surprisingly ending up with my fingers deftly unzipping him. It is best to be direct with virgins, otherwise nothing will get done.
And so now here I am, on my knees before some spoiled brat, his penis hardening and softening in my hand, asking with the utmost courtesy if he is prepared for what is to come. He is not, but he doesn't know that. He answers, "Yes, Karina," he stammers, pleadingly, "please..." Adorable. His eyes ravish me, my perfectly shaped face, my long luscious black hair, my bared limber legs, my weighty breasts, so skillfully displayed by my short, black dress; it was a gentle surprise I was not already dripping with his semen. No doubt he expects to spend his seven seconds of heaven inside of me, but that would be a waste. He would barely be in my pussy long enough to truly appreciate its splendor, and then he would fuck one of those indolent girls who surround him, would last several minutes in her loose cunt, and incorrectly declare her better than an idol. It was demeaning, really. So I imprint myself upon him in a more memorable manner, unlimbering my cleavage from its confines and allowing it to drape down my chest.
Ah. Now he stiffens.
I give him several heartbeats to truly appreciate my chest, leaning back and tilting my head down, giving him a playful smile to encourage him, all while my fingers delicately fondle his manhood. Already he is groaning, gawping at my tits as if he had never seen a pair of breasts before, if I had turned about and dropped my panties, no doubt my ass would be getting plastered. But that would not be fun, so instead I wait patiently until the pulsating in his cock subsides, before onehandedly popping open the bottle of oil I had pulled from my purse while he was busy drooling over my curves. I dower my breasts with a healthy helping of scented lubricating oil, not enough to remove stimulation, but enough to ensure I would not need to reapply it any time soon. I rub it into my cleavage, massaging it with both hands until it is slick and glistens in the false candlelight of the flambeaux, "Well, aren't you a little excited" I purr vivaciously, "I hope you will be able to make it between them..." and my lips curl upwards when he assures me he will. Such youthful confidence...
Wearing a beatifical smile, I wrap my breasts around his upraised member, relishing in his sigh of pleasure as my soft flesh enfolds him, trapping his cock in my pillowy prison. Precum beads at his tip, and I give him a shocked expression, "Cumming so soon?" I gasp teasingly, before descending into giggles, making his face flush an even deeper red. He stammers excuses, but I shush with a laugh, "Oh don't worry dear, I'll be sure to make this last..." and he nods eagerly, no doubt interpreting this as a few minutes, as if that would be enough to satisfy me. Feeling his balls uncurl from his groin, I start to move, dragging my chest up his length, before hauling my breasts back down it, a simple, yet effective technique. He shudders while I pleasure him, my breasts softer than anything he could have fantasized, a constant, pampering pressure has emptied many a lover. His groans fill our secluded alcove as I languidly stimulate his cock, my cleavage having claimed his virginity, it was superior to most pussies after all, so it might as well count.
Barely a minute has gone by before his hips start to flinch, his manhood palpitated between my tits, his breaths increasing rapidly, "Oh fuck, Karina!" He moans, "Don't stop!" Already pathetically eager to reach his climax and leave me with a chestful of thick semen. How cute. So I relax, my breasts denuding his cock of the pressure that stimulates it so, stifling his rising orgasm, even as he desperately starts to hump my chest. I ride it out, carefully maneuvering my cleavage to ensure the only thing leaving his swollen dick was a runnel of precum that pools against my skin, leaving him blubbering, "Oh not yet dear," I croon, "I am hardly satisfied with just this. I want all of it," as if I truly care about his worthless seed, journey before destination, after all, "I want your first load to be magnificent," I lie cheerfully, "I want you begging for release," which was far more truthful. Hearing cherry boys whimpering was just so... delicious. It excites that primal part of me, that motherly urge to dominate the lesser the sex. And boys think girls need a fat cock in them to feel satisfied!
So I continue, once I am sure the risk of premature ejaculation has fallen, having already learned his rhythms. Cocks are such simple brutes, so easy to conquer if one takes the time to learn their weaknesses. Now I add a little more pressure to the proceedings, squishing my chest a touch tighter to keep his dick's attention fully on me, penises do so love to sulk after being edged. But my efforts are enough revive his manhood's interest, already sensitive from having come so close to finishing, and soon he is gasping once more. My breasts squelch along his shaft, his fluids adding an endearing sloppiness to the proceedings, as do his desperate whines and muttered entreaties to his absent mother, "Don't worry dear, Mommy is right here," I purr hungrily, tightening my fleshy embrace in emphasis, "Just let Mommy take care of everything..." And a fresh surge of precum shows his enthusiastic agreement with that sentiment. How endearing.
He moans for me, moaning for his Mommy, moaning for release, his words slurring as his mind melts under the tender caress of my breasts. I encourage him, urging him to hold on for Mommy, all while pampering his cock with ever greater vigor, I want him to finish before his climax wanes from heavenly to simple relief. He begs, oh how he begs. His balls clenching painfully, his shaft spasming from the sheer size of the load getting exquisitely pushed through it, doing his best to hold back even as it cataclysmically approaches. How sublime. So I urge him to let go, "Let it all out for Mommy," I sigh lovingly while I bury his manhood in my chest, "There you go, good boy. Goooood booooy," he practically sobs with pleasure while his seed erupts into my cleavage, his entire body writhing with every spurt, clutching weakly at me for support as he doubles over from the force of his orgasm. Drool trickles down onto my head as he gurgles plaintively, his brain unable to comprehend anything but the fountain of stimulation coursing from his cock, and still he continues to unload.
By the time he finishes, it looks as if a glass of yogurt had been dumped over my tits, a truly impressive quantity of semen baptizing the site of his lost virginity. I leave him there, head lolling, giving him a faint kiss upon his forehead to show my appreciation of his efforts, sliding my breasts back into the tight confines of my dress. One does not wander around topless at such a cultured party after all, though I proudly display his load upon my pushed up chest. My sudden exit disturbs the roost of girls who had been spying upon us while I ravished their purported amour, the pair of them glaring furiously at me for claiming their crush. I noticed their outraged observations from the start, not that I minded of course, what was the point of an affair if others could not watch? I have a wicked thought to turn about then and there and claim his virginity with my pussy, to spite the little lovebirds, but I resist the thought. No doubt by tomorrow morning he will be balls deep in one of them, his mind filled with disappointment that her hole does not measure up to the pure bliss of my breasts. So instead I hush them each with a finger, smearing his cum across their lips as I breeze by. One of them looks thoughtful, the other disgusted.
Feeling rather pleased with myself, I rejoin the main event, preening as eyes linger upon my curvaceous form, and the bountiful offering spread across them. It is not long before a group of suitors petition me, their wives and paramours feigning jealousy behind them, and I gladly join them in a nearby alcove. Within a minute I am on my knees, after five I am being penetrated in every hole, before fifteen have passed, the ladies join in the fun.
What can i say? Despoiling virgins excites me greatly...
