The worst part about having a slutty best friend isn't that she's a slut.
It's that she's your best friend.
Few people throw a party as iconic as Enami Asa.
Known and hated by her neighbors for the constant disturbance of the peace, the fame of her parties doesn't lie in the organization, the logistics, the setup, or the quality of the drinks, but rather in the complete absence of all that. Being the type of person who skimps on her own birthday cake to invest in booze and whatever cheap substance she can find along the way that'll get you fucked up, an Asa party is always the kind of event that guarantees at least half a dozen memorable moments (all of them for the worst-best reasons imaginable).
The downside, though, is the aftermath; the mess left behind, the rubble of a terrorist attack on every form of public order and decency. And you, being the idiot lovely friend that you are, always stay behind with Asa to help her clean the whole house. Years of friendship and infamous parties and this has pretty much become an unspoken ritual between the two of you.
Although…
Maybe "clean" is an overstatement. Getting the house back to borderline habitable and confirming nobody died in some corner is about the most two drunk people operating at roughly 15% mental capacity can accomplish.
But, as they say, after the storm comes the calm.
With a final pass of the vacuum cleaner, the machine earns its well-deserved rest. You and Asa do too, collapsing onto the couch almost at the same time. The house is, at last, slightly less unsanitary: cups stacked in the sink, the trash bagged in the hallway - along with the three used condoms Asa insisted you!!! pick up - and the floor still sticky with beer, though at least swept. Needless to say, hours of post-party cleaning with alcohol still running through your bloodstream aren't exactly the ideal way to end the night, especially when you nearly puke twice during the process. But, well... who would you be if you left your best friend/birthday girl hanging?
And speaking of her, Asa is sprawled out next to you, head resting against the back of the couch, emptying her lungs in a long sigh of pure exhaustion. Still wearing the same outfit from the party, specifically a short black skirt and a strapless top that made every guy at the party try (and fail) not to stare at her nipples pressing through the thin fabric. Her short dark hair is plastered to the back of her neck with sweat, a few strands escaping to frame her face, the red lipstick still smudged at the corners of her mouth, only one hoop earring remaining on her ear, and her cheeks still flushed from the alcohol and hours of cleaning - this is Asa's final form after one of her parties: gorgeous in her complete state of wreckage.
"Thanks for staying," she murmurs with her eyes closed. "Everyone bailed and left me with this shitshow. You're the only one I can count on at times like this."
"You're welcome. That'll be fifteen bucks," you reply, unlocking your phone.
Asa cracks one eye open just long enough to glare at you.
"Oh, please. Like I'm gonna pay you." She scoffs. "It's my birthday, asshole. Where's my birthday discount?"
"It's four in the morning," you point out, turning your phone screen toward her. "Your birthday's over. Princess privileges have officially expired.”
"You greedy asshole," she laughs, giving your arm a weak slap. "I feed you, I get you drunk, I throw you a party, and you've still got the balls to charge me for helping me clean up? Fine. Don't come crying to me next time you want me to set you up with one of my friends."
You shrug without looking up from your phone, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. Even though the house has finally fallen silent, the bass from the boombox still seems to be rattling around somewhere inside your skull, a noisy ghost that just won't leave. You already know you're gonna wake up with one hell of a headache whenever you finally make it to bed.
The minutes drift by. You mindlessly scroll through your Instagram feed while Asa, slumped beside you, massages her temples with her eyes closed, the two of you quietly enjoying this well-earned lull after hours of drunken mayhem.
"Hey," Asa says into the silence. "By the way... Ahyeon told me what happened between you two."
You look up from your phone and glance over at her. She's sitting sideways on the couch, watching you with a look that's equal parts suspicion and curiosity.
"A lot happened between us. What exactly did she tell you?"
"That you fucked her.”
"Okay." You slip your phone into your pocket. "And?"
"And..." Asa echoes, mocking your nonchalant tone. "She told me you fucked her in the ass, dumbass."
"So? She's the one who asked for it.”
"Fuck!" she groans. "Can't believe Ahyeon got her ass fucked before I did. That was supposed to be me, goddammit!”
You frown, confused.
"Now she's gonna be all smug about it," Asa goes on. "'Oh my God, I've done anal. Look how cool I am.' I'm never gonna hear the end of it.”
"Look, don't know if getting fucked in the ass is exactly a flex, but sure.”
"Doesn't matter. It should've been me," she insists. "I'm closer to you than she is. You should've- Like- We've known each other way longer. Why'd she get to go first?”
"Hold on," you say, turning to face her fully. "I thought you'd already done anal before."
"Oh, right, just because I'm a slut, huh?" She shoots you a look of fierce judgment as if you'd insinuated something - but she is, by the way. She really is. "I know I'm a slut, but I'm not THAT much of a slut, come on! I'm not gonna give my ass to just anyone."
"Really?"
"Dead serious. It has to be someone special."
You take a second to process that. Enami Asa: easily the biggest freak you know. The girl who was literally telling anyone who'd listen just two weeks ago about hooking up with two guys in the same week, whose Amazon cart is perpetually full of brand-name vibrators and whatever other horny shit catches her eye.
And somehow... she's never done anal.
...Huh.
Yeah. You definitely didn't see that coming.
"Special, huh? So what exactly does someone have to have to qualify as 'special' in Enami Asa's book?”
She rolls her eyes at your mocking tone but answers, "It has to be someone I trust. Someone I know won't fuck it up, like, hurt me or whatever. I want someone with experience, who actually knows what they're doing."
"Someone like…?" You leave the sentence dangling in the air on purpose.
Asa bites her lower lip, looking at you with those pretty dark eyes in a way you have absolutely no business finding attractive.
"Like you. Duh.”
And just hearing that, your cock gets hard. Those little words leaving her full lips like that - hushed, almost a secret, as if it weren't the most intimate thing she's ever confessed to you - set your blood on fire.
"Okay, just to be sure: you're asking what I think you're asking?" You look at her, searching her face for any sign she's joking.
"Depends," Asa replies, repositioning herself on the couch to get a little closer to you. "Would you do it?" You have to look away for a second, swallowing hard as you try to process the abrupt turn the night's just taken. "It'd be, like..." she goes on, a filthy smile slowly spreading across those full lips, "the ultimate birthday present. Best one I've ever gotten.”
"And what about that manual orange juicer I got you?" you remind her. "Which, by the way, wasn't cheap."
"And I love it, babe," she says, giving your knee a squeeze. "Gonna be drinking fresh, 100% natural orange juice thanks to you. I'll use it every day, pinky swear. But If you fuck my ass… that'd be an even better present, you know? Think of it as an early Christmas gift.”
You can't help but laugh at how ridiculous this is. Asa just sits there with that smug little smile, calm as the morning light, quietly watching your reaction.
Little by little, it dawns on you that she's not kidding. You let out a sigh, drag both hands over your face, and rub at it, feeling your sanity hanging by a thread - and, at this point, probably your boxers too.
"Fuck, Asa..." you mutter. "You actually wanna do this? Like, right now?”
"Right now," she confirms, biting her lower lip again (at this point it's hard to tell if it's involuntary or intentional). "It's just us two here anyway. And if you want to know something…" She leans toward you. Perfume, sweat, and alcohol scrambling your senses. "Just talking about it is already making me wet," she reveals with a mischievous giggle that makes your cock throb in your pants.
"You can't be serious," you say with a half-suppressed laugh.
Now, take note: to Asa, a challenge is what bait is to a fish. She'll bite every single time - and you swear you didn't even do it on purpose.
"You think I'm kidding? Want me to prove you wrong?"
"No! Jesus Christ, Asa! You don't have to prove any-”
You don't even finish the sentence before she's standing right in front of you, her petite body on full display - much to your libido's delight and your better judgment's despair. To understand your predicament, it helps to know that Asa has always had the kind of body that makes a lot of girls die of envy: slim waist, that natural thinness so many dream of having and proportions so perfect that any outfit looks tailor-made for her. So, naturally, expecting you not to admire the view is asking a bit much.
Without breaking eye contact, she slides her hands to the hem of the black skirt and lifts it slowly, folding the fabric at her waist in an act of provocation that feels downright unfair.
Unfair because she's not wearing panties.
But you already knew that.
Earlier, in the kitchen, when Asa called you to help her, she bent down to grab a case of beer from the back of the fridge and her skirt rode up, you saw everything. At the time, you assumed it had been accidental. A wardrobe malfunction. One of those situations you simply don't mention because it would only embarrass the other person. She didn't even notice you'd seen. You let it go.
Now, staring at Asa's smooth little pussy spread right in front of you, the pink folds glistening with how wet they are, it's obvious that was far from an accident.
Reason finally manages to regain control for an instant, and the conclusion is unavoidable: choosing to throw a party in a skirt with no panties is far too specific to be a coincidence. In Asa's case, it's practically Machiavellian.
Come to think of it, it didn't even make sense that you'd followed her to the kitchen; it's not like she couldn't carry a case of beer to the living room by herself. Everything had been carefully orchestrated. A master strategist in the art of temptation.
Congratulations. Point goes to her.
Enemy neutralized successfully.
"See?" she asks, spreading her legs slightly so you get a better view. "I've been wet for a while now."
There's no way you can argue otherwise. The smooth white skin gleaming under the living room lamp is all the proof needed.
Then she turns around, putting her back to you, and arches her ass out, still holding the skirt bunched at her waist. Her ass is small, proportional to her body, round and firm. She glances over her shoulder, smiling slyly.
"So?" she asks, swaying her hips gently. "Fuckable? I mean, okay, I know Ahyeon has me beat this year. She turned into a total gym rat and somehow ended up with a whole dump truck back there. Ugh, it's so unfair. Her boobs got bigger too. What the hell is she even doing at that gym? Bench-pressing silicone? Steroid squats?” She laughs, but there's a grain of truth buried in the joke. She gives her own ass a little smack. "But…" She smirks. "Mine's still way tighter. And let's be honest…" She grabs her cheeks with both hands. "…this perky little thing has its own charm, right?" She spreads her cheeks apart just a tiny bit, enough to give you a glimpse of the little hole between them. Tight, pink, and seemingly untouched. Looking over her shoulder, she asks: "Wanna feel?"
And with that question, Asa drops you right between Scylla and Charybdis.
The choice between the lesser of two evils. Which, in this case, means either touching your best friend's ass and, at some point, ending up fucking just to put her on equal footing with Ahyeon in this bizarre female sexual rivalry you simply cannot comprehend - running the risk of ruining your friendship for the rest of your lives...
......or playing the prude, refusing a request made in absolute good faith and, for the first time in years, not being there when she chose to trust you.
You keep staring at her there, arched forward, offering herself up, her hands pulling aside her own cheeks. And even with your cock throbbing inside your pants, something tugs you back for a moment.
The choice seems so obvious it somehow loops back around and becomes complicated. Maybe it sounds like some self-righteous bullshit - a convenient little principle to make yourself feel better than everyone else. But over the years, you've watched practically every guy who drifted into your circle take one look at Asa and think the exact same thing. Somewhere along the way, you decided you weren't going to be just another one of them.
Asa always meant more than that. She's someone you actually give a shit about.
Even with the flirting. Even with the pecks at parties that always passed as harmless fun. Even with all the doors she, consciously or unconsciously, left open, you never took a single step further.
But now, between the alcohol, the sight of this cute little ass arched right in your face, and Asa herself practically begging to be touched…
You're starting to reconsider decisions that, up until five minutes ago, seemed non-negotiable.
"Asa..." you murmur. "We're friends. Best friends. You know this could ruin that... right?”
She looks over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow before firing back, "So? Ahyeon's your friend too. Didn't stop you from railing her. Don't start playing the saint with me now, babe.”
"That was different, Asa! Those are completely different situations!"
"Oh, are they? How?"
"You and I are closer," you point out. "I'm probably the only male friend you have who's never tried to get with you. Everyone else already has. I haven't."
"Okay… fair. You never tried." For one brief, beautiful moment, you think reason has finally won, but then the corner of her mouth curls into a knowing little smirk as she adds, "But you wanted to."
You even open your mouth to argue but she doesn't grant you the right.
"Oh, cut the bullshit." She laughs softly. "Don't insult my intelligence. You never made a move because you thought it'd ruin our friendship. Not because you didn't want to." She sways her hips slowly, still arched, holding your gaze over her shoulder. "You don't have to play the gentleman with me. Kinda hard to buy that act when I can see the bulge in your jeans.” The smirk on her lips grows a little wider. “That's one hell of a 'just friends' situation you've got going on. You're rock hard over your own best friend. So disgusting, right?"
You tug at your jeans - not to hide the obvious, but because your cock's starting to ache from being crushed against the denim. Keeping your eyes locked on her mischievous smirk, you shoot back, "Well, kinda hard not to get hard when you're over there wiggling that ass in my face and asking me to fuck you in that dirty little voice of yours.”
"Exactly. So chill out. We both want this. It's not like you're taking advantage of me or me of you. It's just… us. Enjoying our friendship, tightening the bond in a more fun way. It's not gonna ruin anything, okay? I promise. Tomorrow we'll still be besties. The only difference is you'll know what my back door feels like." She rolls her hips again, slower and more hypnotic. "Come on, babe. I wanna feel those big hands of yours all over me."
Your brain isn't really processing anything anymore. It's just taking everything in through a thick haze. This is the final stage of arousal, where thought gives way to pure instinct. You don't even notice your hands reaching out until they're already wrapped around her ass.
In the last flicker of lucidity, a single thought crosses your mind: Maybe Asa's right.
Your hands practically swallow the tight, firm cheeks, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh. You squeeze, feel the springy give beneath your palms, spread them apart and press them back together. Small, round, with her pink little pussy glistening between her cheeks, the skin warm under your hands, still damp with sweat from the party. And once again, your brain simply does not compute that this is your best friend's ass. The one who understands is your body - and by "body," your cock pulsing inside your pants.
"So?" Asa asks, biting her lower lip as she watches your hands knead her ass. "Better than Ahyeon's or not?”
"Can't give you a verdict till I put my cock in," you say, fully surrendered now, giving her ass a firmer squeeze that draws a gasp from her.
"So you're really gonna fuck your best friend's little ass?"
"Yeah," you confirm, holding her gaze. "You got what you wanted, congratulations."
"God, yes." She grins, giving her ass a smug little wiggle. "I was starting to think you were gonna keep fighting yourself all night.
"Yeah, not happening. Now get on all fours for me," you order.
Asa obeys, but shoots you a look over her shoulder. "You're not gonna shove it in all at once, are you?"
"Fuck no. Of course not. You really think I'd go in dry your first time?” You laugh. “C'mon. Arch that ass for me.”
"Oh, thank god." She adjusts her knees on the cushion and curves her back. "Oh, and before you ask - I already prepped. Did the whole routine. I'm spotless. You can eat me out without a second thought."
You laugh as you position yourself behind her, commenting, "You're methodical as fuck when it comes to getting laid."
"I don't half-ass anything, babe," she replies, sounding oddly proud of herself. "If I'm doing this, I'm doing it right. No amateur shit here.”
"Good. I know what I'm doing too. Just relax and let me handle the rest.”
You push the skirt until it's bunched more or less around her waist, her arched ass now fully visible. You lean in and kiss one cheek, then the other, feeling the soft skin against your lips. Lower down, her exposed pussy, looking wetter by the minute, dripping slightly between her thighs.
"You really are soaking wet," you say, dragging your thumb lightly across her pussy lips just to see her reaction.
Asa shudders and pushes her hips back against your hand. "Told you I'm horny as fuck," She doesn't sound embarrassed in the slightest. "I've wanted to give it to you ever since Ahyeon told me everything. I almost snuck off to the bathroom to get myself off like three different times during the party."
"Then we better get started."
Your first move is spreading her cheeks apart with both hands, exposing the tight pink hole between them, clenching slightly at the touch of the cold night air. You lean in and drag your tongue from bottom to top in a single motion.
Asa reacts with a jolt so sudden she nearly escapes your hands, kicking back like a startled pony - however un-erotic that comparison might be. Her legs tremble, her hips twist, and she lets out a sharp little yelp of pure surprise.
"Fuck!" She laughs nervously, gripping the back of the couch. "What the hell was that-"
You hold her hips firmly, keeping her in place, and say, "Hey, don't move. Stay still."
"Sorry. It's just I didn't expect it to feel like that. You caught me off guard," she pants, trying to reposition herself. "Go easy at first, please."
You return with your tongue, slower this time, tracing wet circles over her hole, feeling the ring of muscle clench beneath your mouth. Once you sense she's adjusted to the sensation, you press the tip of your tongue against the entrance. Asa responds with a moan, and this time she doesn't try to escape. Her thighs shake, but she makes an effort to hold position like a good girl.
"Oh, fuck," she murmurs. "That's - god - what a weird feeling. But it's good. A good weird. Keep going, babe."
You lick, suck, work your tongue against her hole the same way you did with Ahyeon last week. Getting everything wet, letting the spit drip down, laying the groundwork. With each pass of your tongue her body responds differently, and gradually the tension in her muscles yields. Asa starts to relax, pushing her ass back against your mouth instead of pulling away from it.
"I didn't know it was this sensitive back there," she says, her breathing starting to hitch. "Like, I'd use a finger sometimes when I was touching myself, but nobody's ever- You know- Done that with their tongue before. Jesus... Fuck.”
"That feel good?” you ask before going back in.
"Mm-hm," she breathes. "A lot. Please don't stop.”
You keep obeying the birthday girl's wishes, alternating between licking her ass and dropping down to suck on her drenched pussy, which makes her moan louder and arch her back deeper. The silence that had filled the living room now gives way to the sounds Asa produces, plus the wet noise of your mouth working on her.
"Are you gonna tell Ahyeon about this?" you ask, glancing up at her.
Asa laughs, breathless, glances back over her shoulder, and grins. "Obviously I'm gonna tell her. Gonna rub it right in her face. 'Did you know he fucked me too? And, just so you know, it was way better. He even came back for seconds.’ She's gonna freak the fuck out.”
You smack her ass, cutting off her smug little laugh. A pink mark starts to appear on the skin almost immediately.
"You're such a shameless little show-off. What kind of girl gets fucked in the ass for the first time and the first thing she wants to do is tell everyone about it?" you ask.
She lets out another little laugh.
"Me."
You shake your head, unable to hold back a smile, then give her other cheek another smack so they're matching.
"Ow!" she yelps, still laughing. "Yeah, I'm a show-off. So what? Thanks to me, you get the privilege of taking my anal virginity. I could've auctioned that off for millions, babe.”
"Yeah, alright, enough jokes. Now I'm gonna start with my fingers," you warn. "Relax for me, okay?”
You bring your index finger to your mouth, get it properly wet, and bring it back to her hole already slick with your spit. You press slowly, feeling the resistance of the tight ring. Asa's body goes rigid like stone.
"Easy," she says, and for the first time, you can hear the nerves beneath all that bravado. "Seriously. Go easy on me. If you hurt me, I'm gonna kill you."
"I got you," you murmur, easing your finger in a millimeter at a time. "Just breathe. Don't clench.”
Gradually she releases the air trapped in her lungs, her body softening, and your finger begins to slide inside slowly, until it reaches the last knuckle. Her hole is absurdly warm inside, clenching around your finger.
"Fuck, you're really tight in here," you comment, moving the finger slowly in and out.
"That's because nobody's ever used it," she says (or tries to. The sentence comes out through clenched teeth). "Everything back there is brand new. Enjoy it.”
You keep working the finger slowly, giving her body time to adjust. Little by little, the tightness gives way, she finally opens up to you, and her moans grow softer and more frequent. When she seems ready, you add a little more spit and bring a second finger in beside the first.
"Ow, ow! Wait," Asa moans, tensing up again. "It's starting to burn."
"I know. But you need to open up, otherwise my cock won't fit," you explain, keeping both fingers still for a moment. "Wanna stop?"
"No, no!" she answers quickly. "Keep going, please. Just go really slow, okay? I'm delicate."
You almost laugh at the audacity.
Returning your attention to Asa's ass, you now move both fingers together, spreading them apart gradually in a scissoring motion, stretching her hole. The moans never stop; they just shift in pitch, low and continuous, following every movement. Suddenly, she reaches one hand behind her, slides it between her own legs and starts rubbing her clit. Her pussy so wet that the sound of her fingers against it is actually audible.
"It's better like this," she murmurs, her fingers circling between her legs. "When I touch myself up front, everything relaxes in the back. Keep going."
Both fingers glide in and out of Asa's ass at a steady rhythm, and she's starting to lose control. Her hand between her legs speeds up, fingers circling her clit in relentless stimulation, and the moans leaving her mouth are growing increasingly unhinged, dangerously loud in the dead quiet of the night. You feel the walls of her hole clamping around your fingers with every motion, her entire body trembling and arching in response.
"Wow, okay... It's starting to feel good now,” Asa moans, pushing her ass back against your hand. "I can feel your fingers all the way up front. I swear, it's like I can feel them through everything.”
"Yeah?" You smirk while rotating your fingers slowly inside her. "You're enjoying having your little hole stretched open, huh?"
"I'm loving it," she admits between short pants. "If you keep this up I'm gonna cum, and I'm not even kidding. Your fingers in my ass and my fingers on my pussy - fuck! - such a hot combo."
But that's not what you want. Without saying anything, you begin pulling your fingers out slowly. Asa notices immediately and protests with a frustrated grunt, her hips trying to follow your hand on pure reflex before she can accept the loss of sensation.
"Nuh-uh," you say. "I want you to cum with my cock in your ass, not my fingers."
Asa looks over her shoulder. Her eyes burning with want, her face completely flushed. "Fuck, babe... then quit teasing and fuck me already.” There's no trace of that playful attitude now. Just the raw, desperate need of a girl who wants her cute little ass fucked. "I'm ready. You got me all opened up. My hole's so fucking wet - just put your cock in me already.”
You push yourself off the couch in one smooth motion. Your thumb pops the button, you yank the zipper down, and in one quick pull, your jeans and boxers are around your thighs. Your cock springs free, hard and throbbing, the swollen head already glistening.
"Come here," you call. "Spit on it."
Asa turns around on all fours on the couch and faces you, her eyes dropping to your cock. Her mouth parts slightly, surprised, and for a moment she does nothing but stare.
"Holy shit," she murmurs. "Ahyeon had this thing inside her?"
"Yeah."
"I get why she was acting all smug afterward,” Asa says, wrapping her fingers around the shaft, feeling the weight in her hand. "No wonder she was walking around with that stupid little grin. You must've fucked her real good... Jesus, this thing is thick.”
"That's why I prepped your hole properly," you reply. "Now spit."
Asa nods with a dirty little grin, gathers saliva in her mouth and spits directly onto the head of your cock, watching hypnotized as it slides down the length. She closes her fingers around it and starts stroking slowly, spreading everything, coating every inch. Her hand moves up and down, squeezing with perfect, practiced pressure, staring at your cock with the focus of someone utterly devoted to it.
"Feels nice in my hand,” she comments, rubbing her thumb across the tip and spreading the precum. "Hard as fuck. Ahyeon knew exactly what she was doing when she decided to tell me, you know? She was trying to provoke me. Made a point of saying your cock was one of the best she'd ever had. Wanted me thinking about the dick that fucked her. My best friend's dick."
"And it worked?" you ask, your cock throbbing in her hand.
"Yeah. It worked," Asa admits, giving one last firm squeeze. "I was so fucking jealous.”
Then she spits again, more saliva running over your cock. Spreads it all with her hand until it's completely slick and shining. Only then does she lift her face toward you, the corner of her mouth pulled up in that mischievous smile you've known for years.
"Like that, daddy?" she asks, putting on an innocence so obviously fake that only a slut like her could pull it off.
You feel your cock jump in her hand.
"Yeah, perfect," you confirm. "Good girl. Now turn back around."
Asa smiles, pleased with herself for finding the right button, and repositions herself on the couch. Her back to you again, knees spread on the cushion, spine curved and her cute little ass arched up. The pink hole slightly open from the prep, still wet with spit. The slickness that dripped from her soaked pussy trails down in thin threads between her thighs.
Behind her again, you hold your cock with one hand and slide the head between her cheeks, grazing lightly against the tight little hole. Asa shudders the instant she feels, for the first time, the real contact of your cock against her ass.
"Hey. Relax."
"I am relaxed, damn it," she shoots back, though her body tells a different story. "Just put it in before I start overthinking it and lock up.”
You press the head against her hole and push slowly. The pressure builds, increases, the ring of muscle yielding millimeter by millimeter, and the sensation is absurd. Tight in a way that makes you hold your breath. Asa makes a choked sound and grabs the back of the couch hard.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she lets out in rapid succession. "Stop, stop, stop! Don't move! Let me breathe..."
You stop with just the head of your cock inside, feeling her squeeze and pulse around you. Asa breathes deep, her small chest rising and falling with the effort.
"It's thick as fuck," she murmurs. "Ahyeon took all of this? What a whore."
"Wanna stop?"
"No," she answers fast. "No, absolutely not! Just let me get used to it. Keep pushing, but slow. Really slow, please."
You push another centimeter. Then another. Asa's hole opens around your cock, swallowing you slowly, and with each progression she makes a different sound. A moan. A gasp. A quiet curse. For you, the sensation is overwhelming, hot, impossibly tight, her ring clenching behind the head of your cock with every millimeter of advance, it takes a herculean effort to simply not bury the whole thing inside her ass.
"More," she asks when you hesitate. "Put it all in. Slow but all of it. I want to feel your whole cock in my ass."
You continue, millimeter by millimeter sinking into the tightest little ass you've ever fucked, until your hips press flush against her cheeks. Your entire cock buried in Asa's hole, every inch embraced by that hot, pulsing grip. She releases the air from her lungs all at once, her head dropping forward, dark hair hiding her face, sweat trailing down her spine, tracing every vertebra before disappearing into the fold of her waist.
"Fuck," she murmurs. "I feel everything. I feel your whole cock in my ass. God, this is insane - I can't even breathe."
You stay still, letting the moment belong to her as she adjusts. Her hole pulses around your cock, clenching and relaxing in involuntary waves, and gradually the tension in her body gives way. Her thighs stop trembling so much. Her breathing becomes more controlled, less ragged, her body finally settling around you.
"What was Ahyeon like the first time?" Asa asks suddenly, looking over her shoulder, face flushed and expression curious. "Was she like this too? All tense and stuff?”
"She had a little less trouble," you answer honestly, running your hand over her ass, caressing the warm skin. "But that's fine. Everybody's different. You're doing great too."
"Oh, of course she had less trouble," Asa grumbles. "Easier when it's not actually your first time, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"Babe, you seriously think Ahyeon was an anal virgin? Oh, please.” Asa declares, rolling her eyes, and the indignation adds extra color to her already red face. "She'd probably taken it in the ass from half the city before you. She just played innocent so you'd feel bad for her and fuck her. Perverted bitch.”
You laugh and smack her ass hard enough to make a sharp crack, drawing a gasp from her.
"Hey, don't talk about her like that. She's your friend too."
Asa moans at the slap but laughs right after, saying, "She is my friend, yeah. But in this specific department she's my rival," she retorts as if it made perfect sense. "I'm well within my rights to question her anal integrity. It's a competition. She started it when she came bragging to me.”
"Stop being so petty, Asa."
"Fine, whatever." She adjusts her knees on the couch, settling in better. "I won't talk shit about your other little slut anymore. Daddy's favorite girl. Happy?”
"Close enough.” You shake your head, laughing.
Asa laughs with you. It lingers for a moment before trailing off into a quiet exhale. She looks down, absently biting the inside of her cheek, and when her eyes find yours again, her face is somehow gentler. Her dark gaze is steadier, more attentive. Slowly, she reaches back and wraps her hand around the wrist resting on her waist.
"Hey," Asa murmurs. "Seriously now... thanks for saying yes to this. This is what I meant before, you know? About it having to be someone special. Someone I trust." She bites her lip, taking a second to find the right words. "You know what you're doing. You're not trying to prove anything. You're not hurting me. You're letting me go at my own pace, and..." She hesitates, then lets out a small, nervous laugh. "I-I wouldn't trust anyone else to put a cock in my ass. That's what I'm trying to say. Yeah. You're... you're amazing.”
You slide your hand along her waist, your thumb tracing slow circles over her warm skin. "That's what friends are for..." you reply. "I guess.”
Asa lets out a short laugh, shaking her head before hiding a smile as she turns to face forward again.
"Yeah, I guess so," she agrees, rolling her hips gently against you, her hole squeezing your cock with the motion. "Anyway, sentimental moment over. Now keep fucking me. Go for it."
"Alright. I'm gonna start moving," you warn.
Slowly, your hips pull back a few centimeters and push forward again. The movement is slow, but the sensation draws a long, deep moan from Asa. You repeat the pattern: pull back, push in. Pull back, push in. Each thrust a little easier than the last, her hole yielding a bit more, molding itself to your cock.
"Yes," Asa moans, pushing her ass back against you. "Just like that, daddy. Put your hands on my waist, hold me tight."
Both your hands wrap around her slim waist. The few times you've touched her there, it was always in innocent contexts: posing together for a photo, guiding her through a crowded party, or in some casual gesture of affection between friends. Now, though, you pull that same waist back against you with every thrust, making her ass collide with your pelvis in a rhythm still slow but firm. Asa's hole is already completely slick, gliding along your cock with an ease that increases with every stroke.
“Fuck my ass, babe,” she breathes through clenched teeth. “Yeah, right there! Fuck - this cock's so fucking good. Now I totally get why Ahyeon acted so cocky. After getting fucked by this dick, I'd be cocky too.”
You drive in deeper and she gasps, then laughs, almost beside herself.
"You like taking it in the ass, Asa?" you ask, gripping her cheek with one hand while you fuck her.
“I fucking love it, she replies, pushing her hips back against you. “I should've let you do this sooner. I thought it'd hurt a lot more, but it feels so damn good. Feeling my best friend's thick cock stretching me open, taking me nice and slow - fuck, it's so damn hot."
You increase the pace just enough to give her something new. The walls of her ass grip your cock with every thrust in a squeeze so intense you need to focus to not lose control. Asa, growing bolder by the minute, grinds back on you, rotating her hips in circles while you pump in and out, and her moans shift in tone, deeper, rawer, even better to listen to.
"Yeah, fuck me like the little slut I am,” she says, glancing over her shoulder for a second just so you can see her smirking. "That's what I am, right? Your dirty little friend taking it up the ass on the couch after the party.”
"You always were," you reply, spanking her ass. "I just never got to see it for myself.”
"And you like what you see?" she teases, grinding harder. "You like fucking your friend's virgin ass? Nobody else has ever had this privilege. Just you, daddy.”
"It's perfect," you admit, driving into her again and drawing another loud moan from her. "You've got the best ass I've ever fucked.”
"Better than Ahyeon's?!" asks eagerly, and you almost laugh because of course she'd ask that while you literally have your cock stretching her ass open.
"No comparison," you answer, and it's the truth. Asa grinds in a way Ahyeon never did, plus her hole is hotter and slightly tighter - now even you're questioning Ahyeon's "anal integrity" (add one more conspiracy theorist to the group).
"Ha, take that, bitch,” Asa declares to no one in particular, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. "Honestly, it's not even fair how much better than her I am at literally everything.”
And while she goes on bragging to herself, your hips never stop working, maintaining a steady rhythm, feeling every inch of Asa's ass clenching around your cock. Her small firm cheeks bounce with each thrust, then spread when you decide to palm both apart with your hands to watch your cock sliding in and out of her. Her hole gapes for a split second with each withdrawal before enveloping your cock again, a sight that is, to be uselessly honest, the most obscene thing you've ever witnessed - not because of what it is, but because it's her.
For a while, you keep fucking her at an easy, unhurried pace, one that doesn't ask too much from either of you. It's almost like tenderizing a cut of meat with a mallet; blow after blow, never rushing it, letting the fibers slowly loosen and surrender beneath each measured strike, until the whole piece grows softer under steady, patient pressure. Every thrust opens Asa up a little more, easing her wider, getting her thoroughly stretched and accustomed to your cock, until it's finally time to give in to the freedom those relentless rolls of her hips and the way she presses her ass back against you seem to be pleading for.
Asa's moans also find their own rhythm: constant, separated only by brief intervals, broken now and then by whatever filth decides to escape her mouth, "Fuck... you're stretching my little ass out so good," she groans, her fingers tightening around the armrest. "It's filling my little hole completely. Can feel you so deep, you know that? Every time you bottom out, I feel every inch of it. It's driving me fucking crazy.”
"You feel so fucking good," you tell your best friend, your hands squeezing her ass. "Now I get why everyone who's ever fucked you ends up wanting more. You're just built for this. Built to be used like a fuck toy - and I mean that as the biggest compliment I could possibly give you."
"And I feel extremely flattered hearing that, babe," she responds looking over her shoulder, face completely overtaken by lust. "Your cock is stretching my whole ass out and I love it, I love being used by my best friend. Give me more, give me every inch of that dick, babe."
You fire off a sequence of faster thrusts and Asa moans loudly with each one, her entire small body rocking on the couch. After several pumps you slow down and stay buried inside her, just feeling her hole pulse.
"Now that you're nice and stretched out," you murmur, giving her ass a slow, affectionate stroke, "how about you ride me for a while? Set the pace. I wanna feel you move however you want.”
Asa's eyes light up at the idea, the answer coming without even thinking, "Yes, daddy!” She beams. "Let me ride your cock for a while. I swear I'll make you feel so fucking good.”
"You know, maybe it's the horniness talking but I like hearing you call me daddy," you admit, running your hand down her back.
"Yeah?" she grins, playful, wiggling her ass with your cock still inside. "Then that's what I'm calling you from now on. Whenever this cock is inside me, you're my daddy. Deal?”
"Deal," you answer.
Holding the base of your cock, you begin pulling out slowly, watching the thick length sliding gradually out of Asa's hole, every fraction of withdrawal drawing a soft little moan from her, the tight ring clinging to your cock as if refusing to let go. When the head finally slips free, her hole winks, clenching and opening to the air. Your best friend's little hole, untouched just half an hour ago, is now flushed, slick, and slightly swollen from your use. Asa keeps her ass arched toward you on purpose, as though she knows exactly where your thoughts have gone.
And she knows it. A dirty little thing like her knows exactly how wrong this is.
Truth be told, that's exactly what turns her on.
"Like what you see?" she teases, giving her hips a playful sway. "That little hole belongs to you now, daddy.”
You don't bother answering her. The look in your eyes already tells her everything she needs to know. Shaking yourself out of the moment, you ease back onto the couch, getting comfortable as your cock stands hard against your stomach, still glistening from her.
Asa gets on her knees on the couch and turns to face you. With one hand on your shoulder she moves and straddles your lap, one knee on each side of your thighs, her slim body with the skirt still bunched at her waist and the strapless top letting one nipple peek out. She looks down at your cock and bites her lip before her hand drops to grab it, positioning the head against the hole that was just fucked. She takes a breath, presses her forehead to yours, and then starts lowering herself slowly.
The tip presses against her entrance once more, her tight ring giving way much more easily this time, though it's still snug enough to draw a long, helpless moan from her. Asa's eyes roll back as half your cock slips inside, her eyelids fluttering while every muscle in her body focuses on not tensing up as you're slowly worked back into her. She keeps lowering herself until she's fully seated, your entire length buried inside her, your hips pressed flush together.
"Holy fucking shit," she moans, trembling on your lap. "In this position it goes deeper. Feels like your cock grew three extra centimeters."
She stays still for a moment, just breathing, letting her body adjust naturally. Then she starts to move. Slow at first, searching for the right rhythm, lifting her hips a few centimeters and dropping back down, feeling every millimeter of friction. Her face twists with pleasure on each descent.
While she finds her rhythm, your hands travel up her body and grab the edge of the strapless top. You yank it down in one go, the fabric sliding smooth on sweaty skin to reveal her tits. Small and proportional to her compact frame, with pink stiff nipples you spent the whole party watching press against the thin fabric.
Asa glances down at herself - still lazily grinding against your lap - and asks with a smug little smile, "So? What do you think?"
"They're cute," you say, your thumbs brushing lightly over her nipples. "They really suit you."
"Knew it," she says, grinning. "Flat is justice, damn it. You don't need huge tits to be hot."
"I've never said otherwise."
"That's why you're my kind of guy," she murmurs, leaning into your touch. "Go on... squeeze them for me, daddy.”
That's what you were about to do anyway. Your hands rise between you, grabbing both tits, fingers working the nipples, and Asa, feeling your touch, closes her eyes and picks up the pace. Her body responds to your touch by rising and falling with more energy, her hole gliding along your cock in a way that makes you clench your jaw. It doesn't take long for Asa to show she knows what she's doing, using her whole body to ride you, especially the strength in her hips, creating those small impacts of skin against skin that echo through the room with every hard drop.
"I bet Ahyeon can't ride dick like this," Asa pants. "Come on, admit it. I ride you way better, don't I?"
"You do," you admit, giving her nipple a squeeze. "Way better. Just don't tell her I said that."
"I knew it! Oh, and wanna hear something funny? Ahyeon actually asked me for riding tips once. Like, she literally asked me how I do it. So I taught her, obviously. I'm a good friend after all."
"No shit?"
"Dead serious. I'm the one who taught her how to ride. And then the ungrateful bitch goes and uses what I taught her to take it up the ass from my friend? The nerve..." Asa sinks lower as she rolls her hips, clenching around you in the process and drawing a groan from your lips. "At least now I'm showing you how it's actually done. My student rode you like an amateur. Daddy's best little anal slut does it like this."
"One of these days you're gonna have to explain this whole rivalry thing between you two," you say.
"Oh, there's a lot of lore behind it," Asa replies, planting both hands on your shoulders to give herself more leverage. "It all started when she stole a guy she knew I had a crush on."
"You never told me that."
"'Cause it's kind of personal. It's between me and her. I'll tell you later."
"When's later?"
"After you fill my ass with cum and I'm sitting on your lap with your cock still inside me. Then I'll stay all cozy with you for a bit, feeling your cum inside me, and I'll tell you everything. Deal?"
You laugh at the sheer casualness with which she says something like that.
"Well... okay. Works for me."
Asa smiles and starts riding you with renewed enthusiasm. Her body never stops moving - her small breasts bouncing softly, her slim waist rolling over your lap. You can tell she's past the adjustment phase now, completely used to taking you, every descent smooth and deep. Never breaking rhythm, she shifts effortlessly between slow circles, straight bounces, lazy rolls of her hips, and short grinding motions, switching from one to the next without missing a beat, and the constant variety is enough to drive you crazy.
"Am I doing a good job, daddy?" she asks between pants, gazing into your eyes.
"You're incredible," you answer, squeezing her waist. "My good girl. Keep going."
"Yes, sir," she says, picking up the pace. "I'm gonna ride this cock until you fill my tight little ass with hot, thick cum. That's what I want for my birthday - an anal creampie from my best friend.”
Then, as if it's the most natural thing in the world, Asa leans in and kisses you. And for the first time in all your years of friendship, it's a real kiss; open-mouthed, her tongue meeting yours, warm, soft, and everything it shouldn't be. Years of quick pecks at parties, affectionate two a.m. texts, and playful flirting never came close to preparing you for this. The reality of her mouth on yours is rawer than you ever imagined. She tastes faintly of alcohol with a hint of something sweet - probably the frosting from the cheap birthday cake she picked up. Her quiet moans melt into the kiss, vibrating against your lips as she never stops moving.
She pulls back just enough to keep her forehead resting against yours, still breathless, her eyes bright as she lets out a dazed little laugh.
"Fuck... I can't even- Like, a few hours ago we were just getting drunk, acting like idiots at my party. And now I'm bouncing on my best friend's dick, calling him daddy." She laughs again, half in disbelief, half completely into it. "But it feels so good. So wrong and so fucking good." She shakes her head with a breathless smile. "I'm so turned on I can't even think straight. Your cock's actually in my ass. Like..." She lets out an unsteady breath, still smiling in amazement. "This is so fucked up. I love it."
"It's fucking insane for me too," you admit, your hand slowly trailing down her sweat-slick back. "You're the one girl I always swore I'd never make a move on. I spent years telling myself our friendship meant too much to risk - and now I've got my best friend riding my cock.”
"So? Regretting all those promises you broke?"
"Not for a second.”
Asa rewards your honesty by grinding harder, deeper, her hole tightening around your cock in a way that makes your hips lift off the couch. The intensity is building, the rhythm accelerating, and her breathing is getting shorter and faster, the climax approaching.
"I'm close," she confesses, gripping your shoulders hard. "Gonna cum, babe. Gonna cum with your cock in my ass - holy shit. Can feel myself tightening up.”
Her hand slips between her legs, fingers finding her clit as she keeps riding you, drawing out a different kind of moan this time - lower, rougher, the kind that only comes when an orgasm is closing in. Your hands stay firm on her waist, lifting her up and pulling her back down with almost ridiculous ease, her light frame making it effortless to set the rhythm. And Asa gives in the way only she can. True to her word, she never does anything halfway. If she's going to feel it, she feels every last bit of it. If she's going to cum, her whole body cums with her.
"Cum for me, daddy," she whimpers, grinding herself back against you as her fingers work her clit even faster. "Cum nice and hard for your dirty little slut of a best friend. The best friend who's been dying to spread her legs for you. "The one who got jealous as hell because Ahyeon got this cock before she did." Her voice catches on a moan. "And now I am - fuck - now I'm taking it so fucking good!" She rocks back harder. "Now fill me up. Fill my ass with every last drop.”
"Fuck... I'm close," you groan. "You're gonna make me cum."
"Yes! Fill me up," she moans, her ass tightening around your cock. "I'm your dirty little slut now. Your slutty best friend who's gonna let you fuck her ass whenever you want. Fill me up, daddy. Please. Every fucking drop.”
She grinds faster, harder, riding your cock with growing desperation, squeezing around you with every thrust. The pleasure has been building for far too long - ever since she lifted her skirt and showed you how wet she was, ever since she told you that you were the one she wanted to fuck her ass. Asa doesn't stop talking. She doesn't stop moving. Her hole keeps clenching and relaxing around your cock in a relentless rhythm, pulling you closer and closer to the edge right along with her.
"Give me your cum, daddy. Give it to me give it to me give it to me-”
You grab her by the hips and pull her down hard, burying your cock to the hilt as you cum. As deep in Asa's ass as you can possibly get. Thick, hot ropes flood her from the inside, each pulse making her hole tighten around you. The feeling is almost unreal. Her impossibly tight ass milks every spasm out of your cock while you keep her pinned against you, holding her there as you empty yourself completely, letting every involuntary squeeze draw out the very last drop.
Asa feels the rush of hot cum filling her ass, unmistakable, flooding her exactly the way she'd begged for. That, finally, pushes her over the edge. It comes in beautiful stages: first, her whole body goes rigid, every muscle tightening all at once. Then she starts to shake - and she really shakes - completely out of control, her thighs trembling on your lap, her hole fluttering around your cock, her eyes rolling back until only the whites show. Her mouth falls open, but no sound comes at first. Then, finally, a long, ragged moan tears its way up from somewhere deep in her chest.
You wrap your arms around her trembling body, feeling her convulse in your lap, and Asa digs her nails into your shoulders, hard enough that she's definitely leaving marks. You can already feel the sting, though the adrenaline dulls most of it. The orgasm keeps rolling through her in waves, each one making her clench around you all over again, tighten all over again, and for a moment it feels like it's never going to end.
But it does. And when it finally does, Asa melts against you. Her forehead comes to rest on your shoulder, her whole body going limp, deflating like a balloon, her breathing so heavy you can feel her chest rising and falling against yours.
"Fuck," she murmurs hoarsely against your neck. "Holy shit... That was- Like..." She lifts her head to look at you, eyes half-glazed, the shock of the ecstasy still there. "I felt it go through my whole body. I'm serious. From my toes all the way to the top of my head. Strongest orgasm I've ever had. Jesus." She lets out a weak, satisfied laugh. "My first time taking it in the ass, and that's what happens. Guess I've been doing sex wrong…"
"Happy to help you find your new favorite hobby," you say, chuckling. Asa smiles.
But she doesn't get up, though. She stays on your lap, your cock still inside her ass, the hot cum filling the space between you just like she said she wanted. Her body feels feather-light against yours, sweat and perfume mingling in the air as her breathing gradually slows, the two of you lingering there without either of you feeling any need to move.
"Hey," Asa says after a while, still leaning against your shoulder. "Maybe this doesn't have to be a one-time thing."
"What do you mean?"
"We could keep doing this. Fuck every now and then." She gives a small shrug. "I think it'd be nice."
"Like friends with benefits?"
"Yeah. Friends with benefits." She looks up at you. "What do you think?" Her hair sticks to her forehead, her lips are swollen, her lipstick completely smeared - the face of someone who just made the riskiest decision of your entire friendship... and doesn't regret it one bit. "No dating, no expectations, no drama. Whenever we're in the mood, it's just you and me. Sound good?"
You don't even have to think. "I'm in."
"Nice," she says with a smile, leaning in to give you a quick peck. "Mind if I stay on your lap a little longer? It feels nice like this. Cozy."
You wrap your arms around her, pulling her small body close.
"Sure. Get comfortable."
"Thanks," she murmurs. "Seriously. This was the best birthday present I could've asked for. Better than the juicer. Better than the party. Better than everything."
"Anytime," you reply, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Anything for the birthday girl."
Asa closes her eyes and snuggles a little closer. The darkness in the room is already beginning to fade, slowly giving way to the pale light of dawn spilling through the windows. Outside, the chorus of city birds is the first ordinary sound you've heard in hours (after what felt like an endless night of Asa's moans) - the quiet prelude to a brand-new morning.
"Daddy," Asa murmurs against your shoulder, followed by a quiet little laugh.
You chuckle too. "Yeah... now that we're not horny anymore, hearing you call me that is kind of weird."
"I know," she says. "Without the whole sex thing, it sounds really fucking weird. Let's keep that one for the bedroom."
"Deal.”
Then Asa's stomach growls out of nowhere, cutting right through the moment. She glances down at it with a look of pure betrayal before sighing.
"I'm starving," she complains. "Burned way too many calories getting my ass fucked. Need a snack before bed."
"I'd offer to order something, but I don't think anything's open yet," you say.
Asa barely hears you, already looking around the room for something.
"Hang on..." she murmurs, frowning. "Where'd I leave the rest of my cake? There was, like, half of it left. I remember seeing it on the coffee table during the party." She points across the room, where the coffee table now sits empty. "Yeah, it was kinda shitty and dry, but it'd absolutely hit the spot right now."
"Hmm," you mumble. "About that..."
Asa goes still on your lap. "What?"
"I'm pretty sure I saw somebody leaving with a tray," you say, trying to piece together the hazy memory. "Must've been around two in the morning. I was in the kitchen grabbing another beer when I saw someone heading out the front door with it."
"Who?”
"No clue. Some guy in a striped shirt. I think he was one of Ruka's friends.”
You watch Asa slowly close her eyes, her face settling into the expression of someone who realizes they're fucked - and not the kind she'd been enjoying five minutes ago. She presses her lips into a thin line, takes one slow breath through her nose, then lets it out through pursed lips, “Fuck.”
Tags : Cheating, Stealing someones Boyfriend, Fake Friend, Bathroom Sex, Over The Top Moaning, Facial, Cum Drinking, Obsession, Obsessive Love, Jealousy, Hickeys, Marking, Manipulation, Manipulative Girl, Mating, Rich Girl, Drama
Words : 9,712 Words
The café smelled like roasted espresso beans and the faint vanilla of Yujin’s perfume. She sat across from you, her fingers wrapped around a ceramic mug, steam curling upward in lazy spirals. Her eyes—god, those eyes—crescented into half-moons as she laughed at something you’d said, something stupid about the barista’s mustache, and you felt that familiar warmth bloom in your chest. The one that made you forget words. The one that made you stupid.
“You’re staring again,” she said, tucking a strand of caramel-brown hair behind her ear.
“Can’t help it.”
“Creep.” But she smiled when she said it. She always smiled when she said it.
Two months. Two months of this—of Sunday morning café dates, of her head on your shoulder during late-night bus rides, of her fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your palm while she talked about her art history classes. Yujin was the kind of beautiful that didn’t announce itself. It crept up on you. The way her nose crinkled when she concentrated. The way she bit her lower lip when she was nervous. The way she said your name like it was a secret only she knew.
And then there was Wonyoung.
Wonyoung, who had been Yujin’s best friend since middle school. Wonyoung, who had stared at you a beat too long the first time Yujin introduced you three weeks ago. Wonyoung, who kept finding excuses to touch your arm, your shoulder, your back. Who texted you at odd hours with questions that felt like traps. Who looked at you like you were a puzzle she was itching to solve.
You’d tried to ignore it. Told yourself you were being paranoid. But last Thursday, at Yujin’s apartment, Wonyoung had “accidentally” walked in on you changing in the bathroom—door locked, she’d claimed it must be broken—and instead of apologizing and backing out, she’d stood there. Just for a heartbeat. Just long enough for her gaze to drag down your chest before she laughed and closed the door.
You hadn’t told Yujin. What were you supposed to say? Your best friend is being weird and I don’t know why. It sounded pathetic. Paranoid.
But today. Today you’d decided.
“Yujin,” you started, and your voice came out rougher than you intended. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Her smile faltered. “That sounds serious.”
“It’s about Wonyoung.”
The smile didn’t just falter—it dropped. “What about her?”
You leaned forward, elbows on the table. The wood was sticky with old varnish. “She’s been… I don’t know how to say this without sounding crazy. She’s been acting weird around me. Getting too close. Touching me. Saying things that feel… off.”
Yujin’s brow furrowed. “Wonyoung? No, she’s just friendly. She’s always been like that.”
“Friendly is one thing. This is different.” You reached across the table, your fingers brushing her knuckles. “I think she’s trying to—I don’t know—cause problems. Between us.”
“That’s insane.” But there was a crack in her voice. A hairline fracture.
“Is it? She walked in on me in the bathroom last week. The door was locked, Yujin. She unlocked it somehow. And she just stood there.”
Yujin pulled her hand back. Her jaw tightened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to think—”
“Hey, lovebirds!”
The voice cut through the café like a scalpel. Bright. Sharp. Deliberately cheerful.
Wonyoung.
She was weaving between tables, her pleated skirt swishing against her thighs, a cardigan draped over her shoulders like she’d stepped out of a luxury ad. Her hair—black, glossy, falling in sheets past her shoulders—caught the light. She looked like a painting. The kind that made you uncomfortable and you couldn’t explain why.
“Yujin told me you guys were here,” Wonyoung said, sliding into the booth next to Yujin without asking. “Hope you don’t mind. I was in the neighborhood and I’m starving.”
Yujin shot you a look—apologetic, confused, something unreadable flickering beneath the surface. “I texted her earlier. Before we talked. I forgot.”
Of course she had. Of course.
Wonyoung picked up a menu, her eyes flicking to you over the laminated edge. “You look tense, Y/N. Everything okay?”
“Fine.”
“You sure? You’ve got that little vein thingy.” She pointed at her own temple. “Right here. Pops out when you’re stressed.”
“I’m fine.”
She shrugged, a tiny smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “If you say so.”
The next twenty minutes were a slow-motion disaster. Wonyoung dominated the conversation, her laughter too loud, her anecdotes too long, her hand landing on your forearm every time she made a point. Yujin grew quieter. You could see it happening—the way she retreated into herself, the way her eyes darted between you and Wonyoung, the way her fingers started picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.
You needed to get out. Just for a minute. Just to breathe.
“Bathroom,” you muttered, sliding out of the booth.
The men’s room was cramped and smelled like industrial cleaner and stale piss. You gripped the sink, stared at yourself in the scratched mirror. Your reflection looked haggard. Pale. The vein on your temple was, in fact, popping out.
You splashed water on your face. Counted to ten. Told yourself everything would be fine. You’d talk to Yujin later. Alone. You’d make her understand.
When you walked back to the table, everything had shifted.
Yujin was rigid. Her knuckles white around her mug. Her eyes—those eyes that had crescented into half-moons twenty minutes ago—were wet. Red-rimmed. Fixed on you with something that looked like fury.
“Yujin? What’s—”
“Don’t.” Her voice cracked. Splintered. “Don’t you dare.”
Wonyoung sat beside her, one hand on Yujin’s shoulder. Her face was a mask of pained innocence. Her lower lip trembled. She looked like she might cry.
“What’s going on?” Your stomach dropped. Plummeted. Somewhere in the vicinity of your shoes.
“She told me.” Yujin’s voice was barely a whisper. “She told me what you did.”
“What I did? I didn’t do anything!”
“You tried to kiss her.” Yujin’s hands were shaking now. “At my apartment. Last week. When I went to get takeout. You tried to kiss my best friend.”
The words didn’t make sense. They bounced off your brain, refused to land. “I—what? No. No, that’s not—Wonyoung, what the fuck are you talking about?”
Wonyoung flinched. Flinched, like you’d raised a hand to her. “He cornered me in the kitchen,” she said, her voice small. Fragile. “He said… he said you wouldn’t mind. That you’d never know.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to hurt you, Yujin. But I couldn’t keep lying.”
“She’s lying!” Your voice came out louder than you meant. Heads turned. “Yujin, she’s fucking lying. I would never—I didn’t—”
“Then why did she say it?” Yujin was standing now. Her purse clutched to her chest like a shield. “Why would my best friend since middle school make up something like that?”
“Because she’s trying to ruin us! That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier! She’s been—”
Splash.
Ice water. Right in your face. Right in your eyes, your nose, your open mouth.
Yujin set the empty glass down on the table. Her hand was steady. Her eyes were not.
“You’re an awful guy,” she said. Quiet. Final. Like closing a book.
“Yujin, please—”
But she was already walking. Already halfway to the door. Already gone.
The café was silent. Staring. The barista’s mustache twitched. Someone’s spoon clinked against a saucer.
And Wonyoung—
Wonyoung was smiling.
Not the pained, innocent mask from a moment ago. Something else entirely. Something that made your blood go cold and hot at the same time.
She waited until the café door swung shut behind Yujin. Waited until the murmurs of other customers resumed, until the attention shifted away from your dripping face and your shaking hands and your eyes that were—god, were you crying? You were crying. When had you started crying?
“Oh, sweetheart.” Wonyoung’s voice had changed. Dropped. The innocence sloughed off like a snake shedding skin. “You really thought you could warn her? Thought she’d pick you over me?”
You couldn’t speak. Your throat had closed up. Your chest was a clenched fist.
She stood. Slow. Deliberate. Her heels clicked against the tile as she rounded the table. Click. Click. Click. Each step a punctuation mark.
Her fingers found your chin. Tilted your face up. Your cheeks were still wet—from the water, from the tears, from the absolute wreckage of the last three minutes.
“That girl,” Wonyoung murmured, her thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, “is so fucking dumb. Not even wanting to hear the guy who she said was the man of her life.” She cupped your face now. Both hands. Her palms warm against your jaw. “But I’m not Yujin, Y/N.”
She leaned closer. Her breath ghosted over your lips. Vanilla. The same perfume as Yujin. She must have borrowed it. Or stolen it. Or—
“I know what I want,” she whispered. “And I know how to get it.”
Your brain was screaming. Sirens. Red flags. Every instinct telling you to push her away, to run after Yujin, to fix this, fix this, FIX THIS—
But your body wasn’t moving.
Wonyoung’s smile widened. “There we go. That’s better. I’ve been waiting weeks for you to look at me like this.”
“Like what?” The words scraped out of you. Raw.
“Like you’re terrified.” She pressed her thumb against your lower lip. “And a little bit turned on.”
“I’m not—”
“Shh.” She pulled you up. Up, out of the booth, your legs unsteady beneath you. “We’re going to the bathroom.”
“What? No—”
“It wasn’t a question.”
She dragged you. Actually dragged you—her grip surprisingly strong on your wrist, her stride confident, weaving past tables and chairs and the mustachioed barista who suddenly found the pastry case fascinating. The women’s bathroom door swung open and she shoved you inside and locked it behind her.
The fluorescent light was harsh. Humming. The tile was pink—a weird, outdated pink that reminded you of your grandmother’s bathroom. There was a potted plant in the corner that looked like it had been dead for months.
And Wonyoung was pressing you against the sink.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Her hands were on your chest now. Palms flat. Fingers splayed. “Since the first time Yujin brought you to game night. You were wearing that stupid flannel. You made some dumb joke about Monopoly. And I thought— that one. I want that one. ”
“Wonyoung, this is—”
“What? Wrong?” She laughed. It was a bright, sharp sound. Genuinely amused. “Yujin thinks you tried to kiss me. She’s probably crying in a taxi right now. There’s nothing left to save, baby boy.”
Baby boy.
The word hit you somewhere low. Somewhere you didn’t want to acknowledge.
Her fingers found the hem of your shirt. Tugged. “Let’s see what you’ve been hiding under all these layers.”
“Wonyoung, stop—”
Rrrrrip.
The sound was obscene in the small bathroom. Cotton tearing. Threads snapping. Your shirt—your favorite shirt, the one Yujin had bought you for your birthday—hung in tatters from your shoulders.
Wonyoung’s eyes went dark. Hungry. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip.
“There it is,” she breathed. Her fingernails traced down your chest. Light. Feather-light. Leaving trails of heat in their wake. “Yujin never mentioned you had abs. Selfish girl. Keeping this all to herself.”
“She’s not selfish, she’s—”
“She’s gone.” Wonyoung’s voice hardened. “She’s gone and I’m here and I’m going to give you something she never could.”
Your back hit the mirror. Cold glass against your shoulder blades. Wonyoung’s hands were everywhere—your chest, your stomach, the waistband of your jeans. Her mouth found your neck and she bit down.
Hard.
You gasped. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t not pain. It was something in between, something electric that shot down your spine and made your fingers curl against the edge of the sink.
“Mmm,” she hummed against your skin. “You taste better than I imagined.”
“You imagined—?”
“Oh, baby boy.” She pulled back just enough to look at you. Her lipstick was smeared. Her pupils were blown wide. “I’ve imagined everything.”
Her mouth crashed into yours.
It wasn’t a kiss. It was an invasion. Her tongue pushing past your lips, her teeth catching your lower lip, her hands fisting in what remained of your shirt. She kissed like she was trying to consume you. Devour you. Leave nothing behind.
And your body—traitor, traitor —responded.
Your hands found her waist. Her hips. The curve of her ass through that stupid pleated skirt. You didn’t remember deciding to touch her. You were just touching her, your fingers digging into the soft fabric, pulling her closer.
She moaned into your mouth. The sound vibrated through your teeth. “Mmmnpfh—yes, yes, that’s it. Touch me.”
Her skirt rode up. Your hands slid under. Her skin was hot. Burning. You felt the lace edge of her panties, the swell of her ass, the way she ground herself against your thigh.
“You’ve been so good,” she panted, breaking the kiss. A string of saliva connected your lips before snapping. “So loyal. So devoted. And she threw you away in two seconds flat. Didn’t even let you explain.”
“She was upset—”
“She was stupid.” Wonyoung’s hand dropped to your belt. Unbuckled it. Metal clinking. Leather sliding. “And I’m not. I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know exactly what I want.”
Your jeans hit the floor.
“Time,” she whispered, her fingers hooking into the waistband of your boxers, “for me to steal your kiss.”
She pulled them down.
“And your virginity.”
Her smile was a knife.
“Baby boy.”
Your cock sprang free, already half-hard, already betraying you in the most fundamental way possible. The cool bathroom air hit sensitive skin and you shivered.
Wonyoung looked down.
And her composure cracked.
“Oh,” she breathed. Just that. One syllable. Reverent. “Oh, you’ve been holding out on me.”
She dropped to her knees.
The pink tile must have been cold against her bare legs. She didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were level with your cock, her breath coming in little puffs that ghosted over the tip. Making it twitch. Making it ache.
“Look at this,” she murmured. Her index finger traced a vein along the underside. Feather-light. Barely there. “Yujin never mentioned you were packing, either. What a waste. What an absolute waste of a perfectly good cock.”
“Wonyoung, I don’t think we should—”
“Shut up.”
Not cruel. Just matter-of-fact. Like she was telling you the weather.
“You can pretend you don’t want this,” she said, her fingers wrapping around the base. Testing the weight. Her thumb circling the head. “You can pretend you’re a good boyfriend. But your cock doesn’t lie, baby boy. Your cock is very, very honest.”
She wasn’t wrong.
You were fully hard now. Throbbing. The tip flushed and slick with a bead of pre-cum that Wonyoung studied with clinical interest before smearing it with her thumb.
“I’m going to suck your cock now,” she announced, like she was reciting a grocery list. “And you’re going to watch. You’re going to watch me choke on it. And you’re going to think about how Yujin never did this for you. How she never got on her knees in a public bathroom and worshipped you like you deserved.”
“She—we hadn’t—”
“You hadn’t fucked yet?” Wonyoung’s eyes widened with genuine delight. “Oh, that’s precious. That’s absolutely precious. All this time, and she never once wrapped her pretty little lips around this gorgeous cock?”
Her tongue darted out. Licked a stripe up the underside. From base to tip.
Your hips bucked. Involuntary. Completely beyond your control.
“Slllrk.” The sound was wet. Obscene. She lapped at the head like it was a melting ice cream cone. “Mmm. Salty. I like it.”
And then she took you into her mouth.
Not gradual. Not tentative. She swallowed you whole, her throat opening up, her nose pressing against your pubic bone, her gag reflex apparently nonexistent.
“Glrk—mmmm—glrk—”
The sounds were filthy. Wet. Choking. Her throat constricted around your cock, muscles rippling, and you had to brace yourself against the mirror to keep from collapsing.
Her head started to move. Back. Forth. Her tongue working the underside, her cheeks hollowing, her lipstick smearing across your shaft in streaks of red.
“Fuck,” you breathed. The word escaped before you could stop it. “Fuck, Wonyoung—”
She pulled off with a wet pop. A rope of saliva connected her lips to your cock. “There you go. There’s the reaction I wanted.” Her hand replaced her mouth, stroking fast and slick and tight. “Say my name again.”
“Wonyoung—”
“Again.”
“Wonyoung—”
“Louder.”
“WONYOUNG.”
The name echoed off the pink tile. Bounced off the dead plant. Ricocheted through your skull.
She smiled. “Good boy.”
And swallowed you down again.
This time was different. Faster. Desperate. She sucked like she was trying to pull something out of you, her head bobbing furiously, her saliva dripping down your balls, her fingernails digging into your thighs. The sounds— glrk, slosh, splrt, glrk —filled the bathroom like a pornographic symphony.
Your hand found her hair. Tangled in the black sheets of it. You didn’t mean to pull. You pulled anyway.
She moaned around your cock. Vibrations shot through your shaft and up your spine and into the base of your skull.
“I’m—Wonyoung, I’m close—”
She pulled off immediately. “Not yet.”
“What?”
“I said not yet.” She stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lipstick was destroyed. Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were wild. “You don’t get to cum until I’m wrapped around your cock. Until I feel you pulse inside me. Until I’ve marked you so thoroughly that Yujin can smell me on you from across the room.”
The mention of Yujin’s name was like ice water. For a moment—just a moment—clarity cut through the fog.
“This is wrong,” you said. “She’s your best friend.”
“She was my best friend.” Wonyoung’s hands were at her waist now. Unzipping her skirt. Letting it pool at her feet. “Past tense. The moment she chose to believe me over you—the moment she walked out that door—our friendship ended. And something else began.”
Her panties followed. Black lace. Drenched at the center. She stepped out of them, kicked them aside.
“Now.” She grabbed your cock. Squeezed. Hard enough to make you gasp. “Are you going to argue some more? Or are you going to fuck me against this sink?”
You should have argued. You know you should have argued.
But the skin of her thighs was slick with her own arousal. And her scent—musky, salty, something dangerously addictive—filled your lungs. And her hand was guiding your cock between her legs, and she was so wet, so impossibly wet, the lips of her cunt parting around your tip like they’d been waiting for you—
“Shlrrrp.”
The sound of your cockhead pushing into her. Just the tip. Just an inch.
Wonyoung’s head fell back. Her mouth opened. A sound came out that wasn’t a moan or a gasp but something in between, something that started low and climbed octaves until it was almost a whine.
“Yessssss,” she hissed. “Yes, that’s it. Push inside me. Fucking push.”
You pushed.
Her cunt was tight. Unbelievably tight. Hot and wet and gripping, the walls of her pussy fluttering around your shaft as you sank deeper, inch by agonizing inch. Her inner muscles clenched and released, clenched and released, like her body was trying to milk you before you’d even started moving.
“Slosh—schlick—splortch—”
The wet sounds of her arousal squelching around your cock. Obscene. Amplified by the bathroom’s acoustics. You could hear every drop of her cunt’s lubrication being displaced by your intrusion.
“Look,” she commanded. Her hand grabbed your jaw. Turned your face down. “Look at my pussy stretching around your cock. Look at it. ”
You looked.
It was obscene. Beautiful and obscene in equal measure. Her outer lips—puffy, swollen, a shade of pink that bordered on red—gripped your shaft like they were trying to swallow it. Her inner lips, smaller but no less eager, fluttered with each tiny movement. A trimmed strip of black hair adorned her mound, neat and deliberate, guiding your eye downward to where your bodies joined.
And above it all, her clit. Engorged. Peeking out from its hood. Glazed with her own slick.
“You’re inside me,” she breathed. “You’re inside Wonyoung. Not Yujin. Me. Say it.”
“I’m inside you.”
“Say my name.”
“I’m inside you, Wonyoung.”
“Now fuck me. Hard. I want to feel you in my throat.”
You grabbed her hips. Fingers sinking into soft flesh. And you fucked her.
Not gently. Not sweetly. You fucked her like you were trying to punish her—or yourself—or maybe both. Your hips snapping forward, your cock driving deep, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the walls.
Pap. Pap. Pap. Pap-pap-pap.
“Yes, yes, fuck yes,” Wonyoung chanted. Her fingers scrabbled at your shoulders, your chest, her nails leaving red crescents on your skin. “Harder. Harder. Break me. I want to feel this tomorrow. I want to feel you for a week.”
The sink dug into your back. The mirror fogged with your combined breath. You could see yourself in it—a distorted reflection of your own face, eyes wild, mouth open, sweat beading on your forehead.
And Wonyoung, her back arching, her tits still trapped in her blouse but bouncing with every thrust, the fabric straining against her nipples—hard, visible, outlined against the cotton like they were trying to punch through.
“You want to see them?” She noticed you looking. Noticed you noticing. “Go ahead. Rip it off. My clothes are already ruined anyway.”
You didn’t need to be told twice.
The blouse tore like paper. Buttons popped. Scattered across the tile like little plastic raindrops. Her bra followed—one sharp tug and the clasp snapped, the cups falling away, her tits spilling free.
They were perfect.
Round. Full. Pale skin with blue veins visible beneath the surface like rivers on a map. Her nipples were dark—darker than you’d expected—and erect, the areolas crinkled tight from arousal. They bounced with each of your thrusts, a hypnotic rhythm that made your mouth water.
“Suck them,” she demanded. “Bite them. Mark me. I want hickeys all over my tits. I want Yujin to see what you did to me.”
You bent your head. Took one nipple into your mouth. Sucked.
Glk-glk-glk.
The sound of your mouth working her breast, your tongue swirling around the stiff peak, your teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. Wonyoung’s response was immediate—a full-body shudder, her cunt clenching around your cock so hard you saw stars.
“Yes, yes, mark me! Suck harder! I want bruises!”
You sucked harder. Your cheeks hollowing. Your jaw aching. Meanwhile your other hand found her free breast, your fingers finding her nipple and pinching—twisting—pulling.
“Oh fuck—fuck—BOTH nipples, oh my god—”
Her cunt gushed. Literally gushed. A fresh wave of slick coating your shaft, dripping down your balls, splattering on the bathroom floor. The sound was unmistakable—a wet sqqquelch that seemed to go on forever.
“Did you just—”
“Almost,” she panted. “I almost came. You have no idea what you do to me. No one’s ever—I’ve never been this wet before.”
You pulled out. Just for a moment. Just to see.
Your cock was glistening. Coated in her arousal from base to tip, thick and translucent, strings of it connecting you to her like some kind of obscene web. Her cunt looked even more obscene—gaping slightly now, the hole you’d made visible, her lips puffy and flushed a deep, angry red.
“Don’t stop,” she whined. Actually whined. This woman who had been so composed, so calculating, so in control—now reduced to begging. “Please don’t stop. Put it back in. Fuck me. Fuck my pussy. Fuck it until I can’t walk.”
You slammed back inside her.
No pretense this time. No hesitation. Just pure, animal fucking. The kind that made your thighs burn and your lungs ache and your brain go blank.
Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap.
The rhythm was punishing. Brutal. Her tits bouncing wildly, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream. Your balls slapped against her ass with each thrust, heavy and full and aching for release.
“Choke me,” she gasped.
“What?”
“Choke me. Please. I want to feel your hand around my throat while you fuck me.”
Your hand moved before your brain caught up. Fingers wrapping around the column of her neck. Not squeezing—not yet—just resting there. Feeling her pulse hammering beneath your palm. Feeling her swallow.
“Harder.”
You squeezed.
Her eyes rolled back. Her tongue lolled out—long and pink and glistening. Drool leaked from the corner of her mouth, trailing down her chin, dripping onto her chest.
“Glrk—yes—glrk—”
The sounds she made were inhuman. Choked and wet and desperate. Her cunt clenched around you in rhythmic spasms, the walls of her pussy rippling, massaging your cock in waves.
And still you fucked her.
“I’m close,” you gritted out. “Wonyoung, I’m going to—”
“Cum inside me. Fill me up. I want to feel it. I want to walk out of here with your cum dripping down my thighs. I want to leave a trail of you all the way home.”
“But—birth control—”
“Not on it. Don’t care. Cum inside me. Do it. ”
The words shattered something in you.
Your orgasm hit like a freight train. Not gradual—not a building wave—but a sudden, explosive detonation at the base of your spine that radiated outward, consuming everything. Your vision went white. Your ears rang. Your cock pulsed—once, twice, three times, four times—each spasm pumping rope after rope of hot cum deep into her cunt.
“Splurt—splurt—splurt—”
You could hear it. Could feel it. The wet, rhythmic pumping of your seed flooding her pussy, filling her up, painting her inner walls white. It kept going—more than you thought you had in you—until your cum was leaking out around your still-buried cock, dripping down her thighs in thick, pearly rivulets.
Wonyoung’s orgasm hit a heartbeat after yours.
Her eyes—already rolled back—went completely vacant. Her tongue lolled further out of her mouth. Her whole body convulsed, seized, shook like she’d been hit with a live wire. Her cunt clamped down on your cock with brutal force, the contractions so strong they almost hurt, milking you, pulling every last drop of cum from your spent shaft.
“Sqqquirt—gush—sploosh—”
Fluid sprayed from her. Not urine—something else, something clear and odorless, something that splattered across your thighs and stomach and dripped onto the bathroom floor. Her whole body shook with the force of it, her legs giving out, her weight collapsing against you.
You caught her. Barely. Your own legs threatening to buckle.
For a long moment, neither of you moved.
You stayed inside her. Still hard. Still buried to the hilt. Her cunt still fluttering weakly around your cock, little aftershocks of pleasure rippling through her walls. Your cum—a slick, warm presence—pooled between your bodies, a shared secret.
“Slosh…”
The sound of you shifting inside her. The sound of your mingled fluids, thick and viscous, squelching with the movement.
Wonyoung’s eyes fluttered open. Dazed. Glazed. A smile spread across her face—slow and lazy and utterly satisfied.
“That,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from choking, “was worth the wait.”
She pulled back just enough to look down. To watch your cock—still half-hard—slide out of her used cunt. A flood of cum followed. Thick and white, gushing out of her gaping hole, trailing down her inner thighs.
“Look at that,” she breathed. “So much cum. You really filled me up, baby boy.”
She dragged a finger through the mess. Collected a glob of your mixed fluids. Brought it to her lips.
And sucked it clean.
“Mmmm.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “We taste good together.”
You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Your brain was static, white noise, the hum of the fluorescent lights.
Wonyoung reached for her skirt. Stepped back into it. Didn’t bother with her panties—just kicked them under the sink and smoothed down the pleats. Her blouse—what was left of it—hung open, her marked tits on full display. She didn’t seem to care.
“Here’s what’s going to happen now,” she said, her voice calm. Collected. As if she hadn’t just been choking on your cock five minutes ago. “You’re going to go home. You’re going to think about what happened here. And you’re going to realize something.”
She stepped closer. Pressed a finger to your chest. Right over your heart.
“Yujin was never right for you. She was comfort. She was safe. But I’m what you need.”
“I love her,” you managed. Weak. Pathetic.
“You loved a version of her. A version that threw you away the second things got hard.” Wonyoung tilted her head. “I would never throw you away, Y/N. I just proved that. I fought for you. I took you. And I’m not giving you back.”
She leaned up. Pressed a kiss—soft, almost tender—to the corner of your mouth. Then your jaw. Then the hollow of your throat, directly over the hickey that was already darkening into a bruise.
“Go home,” she repeated. “Clean up. Rest. Because tomorrow…”
Her smile sharpened.
“Tomorrow, round two.”
She unlocked the door and slipped out, leaving you alone in the pink-tiled bathroom with your torn clothes and your shaking hands and the smell of sex heavy in the air.
The fluorescent light buzzed.
Somewhere in the distance, the café door chimed.
And you were still standing there, your cock wet with her cum and your own, when your phone vibrated in what remained of your jeans pocket.
A text.
From Yujin.
I’m sorry.
Two words. Trembling on the screen.
Then:
I want to talk. Can we meet tomorrow?
Your hand shook as you stared at the message. The bathroom mirror reflected your face—your marked throat, your swollen lips, your eyes that looked like they belonged to a stranger.
And from outside the door, just barely audible, came the distant sound of Wonyoung humming.
The bar was dim. Not romantic-dim, just sad-dim—the kind of lighting that made everyone look like they were attending their own funeral. You sat in a corner booth, the vinyl seat sticky beneath your thighs, a half-empty glass of whiskey sweating onto the scarred wooden table. You didn't even like whiskey. But ordering it felt appropriate. Penitent. Like flagellation in liquid form.
Yujin sat across from you.
She looked wrecked. Her eyes, usually bright enough to power a small city, were puffy and red-rimmed. Her caramel-brown hair hung limp around her face, unwashed, unbrushed. She'd chewed her bottom lip raw—a nervous habit you used to find endearing. Now it just looked painful.
Neither of you spoke for a long time.
The bar's jukebox wheezed out some forgotten country song. Glasses clinked. Someone laughed—a sharp, too-loud bark that made Yujin flinch.
"I'm sorry," she finally said. Her voice came out scraped. Raw. Like she'd been screaming. Or crying. Or both. "I'm so sorry, Y/N."
You didn't answer. Didn't know how. The whiskey glass was cool against your palm. Condensation dripped down your fingers.
"I should have listened." She reached across the table, her fingertips brushing your knuckles. Hesitant. Like she wasn't sure she still had permission to touch you. "I've been thinking about it all night. About everything you said. About Wonyoung. And I started remembering… things. Little things. The way she'd always find excuses to be around when you were there. The way she'd dress differently. The way she'd—" Her voice cracked. "God, I'm so stupid."
"You're not stupid."
"I am. I threw water in your face. In public. I didn't even let you explain." Tears spilled over her lashes. Tracked down her cheeks. "I believed her over you. My best friend over my boyfriend. What kind of person does that?"
The whiskey burned going down. You welcomed it. "She's been your friend since middle school."
"That doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. I should have trusted you." Yujin's hand closed around yours. Squeezed. "Can we—can we fix this? Can we try? I'll talk to Wonyoung. I'll set boundaries. I'll do whatever it takes."
Whatever it takes.
The words hung in the air between you. Heavy. Accusatory.
Your chest tightened. Because you knew—you knew—that the next words out of your mouth would destroy her. Would destroy everything. But she deserved the truth. After everything, she deserved that much.
"Yujin." Your voice came out wrong. Hollow. "There's something I need to tell you."
Her hand stilled. "What is it?"
"I…" The words stuck in your throat. Your tongue felt too thick. "Last night. After you left the café. Wonyoung and I…"
You couldn't finish. Didn't have to.
Yujin's face went through stages. Confusion. Disbelief. A slow, creeping horror that drained the color from her cheeks and left her looking like a ghost. Her hand withdrew from yours. Slowly. Like touching you had suddenly become dangerous.
"What?" The word was barely a whisper. "What are you saying?"
"I fucked her." The words came out blunt. Brutal. No way to soften them. No way to make them hurt less. "In the bathroom. After you left. She—we—I fucked Wonyoung."
Silence.
Absolute, crushing silence.
Yujin's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No sound came out. Her eyes searched your face—looking for the joke, the lie, the misunderstanding. Finding nothing but the truth.
"You…" She swallowed. Tried again. "You had sex with Wonyoung? My Wonyoung? My—" Her voice shattered. "When? When did you—how—"
"Right after you left. She dragged me into the bathroom and she—" You stopped. How could you explain it? How could you make her understand something you didn't understand yourself? "I was upset. I was crying. And she just… she was there. And she—"
"Stop." Yujin held up a hand. Her fingers trembled. "Just stop. Please."
"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't—"
"Didn't what? Didn't mean to? Didn't want to?" Her voice rose, cracked, splintered into something jagged. "You could have said no. You could have pushed her away. You could have—"
"I know." Your eyes burned. "I know. And I didn't. I don't know why. I don't—"
"You don't know why?" A laugh burst out of her—ugly, disbelieving, soaked in anguish. "You don't know why you stuck your cock in my best friend? That's your excuse?"
There was no excuse. You had none. You sat there, gutted, while the woman you loved stared at you like you were a stranger. Like she'd never known you at all.
"I should go," you said. Pushed yourself up from the booth. "I shouldn't have—I'm sorry. I'll go."
"Wait." Yujin grabbed your wrist. Her grip was desperate. Fierce. "Wait. Don't—don't leave. I'm angry. God, I'm so angry. But I'm also—I'm the one who left first. I'm the one who didn't believe you. If I had just listened, none of this would have—"
"Don't." You pulled your wrist free. Gently. "Don't make excuses for what I did. You didn't make me fuck her. That was me. That was my choice."
"Was it?" Yujin's eyes searched yours. "She cornered you when you were vulnerable. She manipulated both of us. She—"
"Y/N! There you are!"
The voice cut through the bar like a blade through silk. Familiar. Sweet. Deadly.
Wonyoung.
She appeared at the edge of the booth like an apparition. Dressed in a black minidress that hugged every curve, her hair cascading in glossy waves past her shoulders, her lips painted a deep, bloody red. She looked immaculate. Untouchable. Like she'd stepped out of a magazine spread titled "Women Who Will Ruin Your Life."
And she was smiling.
"Wonyoung." Yujin's voice had gone flat. Cold. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing." Wonyoung's eyes flicked to you, then back to Yujin. Something sharp glinted in her gaze. Possessive. Territorial. "Meeting up with my boyfriend without telling me? That's not very nice, Yujin."
"Your—" Yujin stood up. Her chair scraped against the floor. "Your boyfriend? He's my boyfriend. He's been my boyfriend for two months. What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Was your boyfriend." Wonyoung slid into the booth, pressing herself against your side. Her arm looped through yours. Her breast pressed against your bicep. "Past tense. After what happened last night, I think we can all agree that things have changed."
"You—" Yujin's hands were shaking. "You fucking bitch. You planned this. You planned all of this."
"Planned?" Wonyoung's eyebrows rose. "I didn't plan anything. I just saw what I wanted and took it." She turned to you, her fingers trailing up your chest, her touch proprietary. "Speaking of which—I've been texting you all morning and you didn't reply to me at all. You know mommy is really, really needing that D, right?"
The word hit the table like a grenade.
Yujin made a sound—something between a gasp and a choke. Her face had gone white. Paper-white. Her eyes were huge, glistening, fixed on Wonyoung with an expression of absolute devastation.
"Mommy?" The word came out strangled. "You call her—he calls you—"
"That's between us." Wonyoung's smile was a knife. "You lost the right to know what goes on between us when you threw a glass of water in his face and walked out. Now. We should be going."
She tugged your arm. You didn't move.
Your eyes were on Yujin. On the tears streaming down her cheeks. On the way her chest heaved with silent sobs. On the absolute wreckage of her heart, written plain across her face.
"Y/N." Wonyoung's voice sharpened. "Let's go."
"I—" You looked at Yujin. At the woman who'd made you laugh until your stomach hurt. At the woman who'd traced patterns on your palm during bus rides. At the woman you'd been falling in love with, slowly and then all at once. "Yujin, I—"
"Please." Yujin's voice was tiny. Broken. "Please don't go with her. Please. I love you. I love you and I was stupid and I'm sorry and please, please don't—"
"She doesn't deserve you." Wonyoung's lips brushed your ear. Her breath was hot. Her perfume was intoxicating—something dark and expensive that made your head swim. "She threw you away. I picked you up. I worshiped you. I made you cum so hard you couldn't see straight. Did she ever do that? Did she ever get on her knees for you? Did she ever beg for your cock?"
Your cock twitched. Traitor. Fucking traitor.
"Come home with me." Wonyoung's hand slid down your chest. Down your stomach. Stopped just above your belt. "I'll make you feel so good, baby boy. Better than last night. Better than anything. I'll let you do things to me she never would. I'll let you destroy me."
Deep in your chest, something warred. Your heart screamed one thing—stay, comfort her, fix this, you love her, you love Yujin, you've always loved Yujin. But your body… your body remembered last night. Remembered the way Wonyoung's cunt had gripped your cock like a fist. Remembered the sounds she'd made—glorious, filthy, desperate sounds. Remembered the way she'd looked at you like you were a god.
"Y/N, please." Yujin's hand reached for you. Trembling. "Please. I'm begging you."
You looked at her hand. Looked at her face. Looked at the woman you'd thought you'd spend years with.
And then Wonyoung's fingers curled around your jaw. Turned your face toward hers.
"Eyes on me," she murmured. "You don't need her anymore. You have me. And I'm so much better."
Her lips brushed yours. Soft. Teasing. Promising.
"Let's go."
She stood. Pulled you with her. Your legs moved without permission—following her, trailing her, abandoning Yujin at the booth with her tears and her shattered apology and her outstretched hand that slowly, slowly fell to her side.
The bar door swung shut behind you.
Outside, a supercar idled at the curb—low and sleek and black, its engine purring like a predator. Wonyoung clicked a key fob and the doors lifted upward. Gull-wing. Of course. Because she couldn't do anything without making it a performance.
"Get in."
You got in.
The interior smelled like leather and Wonyoung's perfume. The seats hugged your body. The dashboard was a constellation of glowing instruments. She slid into the driver's seat, her dress riding up her thighs, revealing a flash of black lace that made your mouth go dry despite everything.
"Seatbelt," she said. Not a request.
You buckled it.
The engine roared. The car surged forward, pressing you back into your seat. Through the window, you caught one last glimpse of the bar—of Yujin stumbling out the door, her face a mask of grief, her hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes meeting yours for one terrible, eternal moment.
Then the car turned a corner. And she was gone.
"She'll get over it." Wonyoung's hand landed on your thigh. Squeezed. "They always do."
You didn't answer. Couldn't. Your throat was closed. Your chest was a hollow cavity where something vital used to live.
"Don't be sad, baby boy." Her fingers crept higher. Stroked the inseam of your jeans. Found the growing bulge there and pressed down. "I'm going to make you forget all about her. I'm going to make you forget your own name."
The drive was a blur. Wonyoung drove the way she did everything—elegantly, dangerously, one hand on the wheel and the other on your crotch. She ran red lights. Swerved between lanes. All while her palm ground against your cock, coaxing it to full hardness, her nails tracing patterns through the denim.
"How did you find me?" The question scraped out of you.
"Easy." She glanced at you, her smile sharp. "After I fucked you senseless last night, I installed a tracking app on your phone. Took me thirty seconds while you were still trying to remember how to breathe."
"You what?"
"Don't act so shocked. I told you—I know what I want and I know how to get it. You're what I want. So I'm keeping tabs on you. Literally." She squeezed your cock through your jeans. "Besides, you should be flattered. No one's ever wanted you badly enough to track you before."
The penthouse elevators opened directly into her apartment. No hallway. No foyer. Just doors sliding apart and suddenly you were standing in a living room that looked like it belonged in a architectural digest—floor-to-ceiling windows, white marble floors, furniture that cost more than your annual salary.
But Wonyoung didn't give you time to admire the view.
Her hands were on your chest the moment the elevator doors closed behind you. Shoving. Hard.
You stumbled backward. Hit a wall. Hit a doorway. Hit something soft and massive and—
The bed.
King-sized. Draped in charcoal silk sheets. Pillows piled high like clouds.
"Finally." Wonyoung climbed onto the bed, straddling your hips, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your thighs. The hem of her dress rode up. Higher. Higher. The black lace of her panties—drenched already, you could see the damp spot, could smell her arousal, musky and sharp and fucking intoxicating—pressed against the bulge in your jeans.
"I've been thinking about this all day." Her fingers found the buttons of your shirt. Popped them. One by one. Methodical. "Thinking about your body. Your cock. The way you felt inside me."
Cool air hit your chest. Then her mouth.
She didn't kiss—she devoured. Her lips attacked your neck, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat. Her teeth scraped. Bit. Sucked. Leaving marks—purple-red bruises blooming on your skin like flowers.
"I'm going to mark every inch of you," she murmured against your sternum. "Every. Fucking. Inch. So when you look in the mirror tomorrow, all you see is me."
Her mouth moved lower. Her tongue traced the ridge of your pectoral. Her teeth closed around your nipple.
Sllrrk. Sllrrk. Glrk.
The sound of her sucking your nipple. Wet. Hungry. Her tongue swirling, her lips sealed tight, her cheeks hollowing as she pulled. The sensation was electric—sharp and hot and directly connected to your cock, which throbbed painfully against your zipper.
"Fuck—"
"Mmm." She released your nipple with a wet pop. A string of saliva connected her lips to your chest. "You like that? You like when mommy sucks your tits?"
"Yes—"
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I like it."
"Good boy." She attacked the other nipple. Same treatment—sucking, biting, licking, her tongue flicking the sensitive peak while her fingers twisted and pinched the one she'd already abused. Slrk-slrk-slrk. The sounds were filthy. Wet. Amplified by the acoustics of the massive bedroom.
Your hips bucked. Involuntary. Your cock grinding against the heat between her legs.
"Eager." She pulled back. Grinned down at you. Her lipstick was smeared. Her hair was wild. She looked feral. Gorgeous. Terrifying. "I like eager. But we're doing this my way. Which means I'm in control. Which means you stay still while I mark you up like the good little toy you are."
Her mouth returned to your body. Neck. Shoulders. Chest. Stomach. She left hickeys everywhere—dark, angry bruises that would take weeks to fade. She bit your hip bone. Sucked a mark into the V-line above your jeans. Licked the trail of hair below your navel.
"Sit up." She pulled back. "Take off your shirt. The rest of it."
You obeyed. Your ruined shirt joined the growing pile of clothes on her floor.
"Now watch."
She stood. Reached behind her. Unzipped the black dress. The fabric slithered down her body, pooling at her feet like a shadow made liquid. Underneath, she wore a black lace bra and the matching panties you'd glimpsed in the car. Her body was flawless—toned thighs, a narrow waist, tits that overflowed the cups of her bra, spilling pale flesh over black lace.
"You're staring." She unhooked the bra. Let it fall. Her tits bounced free—full and round, her nipples dark and already erect, the areolas crinkled tight. "You can touch them. Later. First—"
She hooked her thumbs into her panties. Dragged them down her thighs. Stepped out of them. Kicked them aside.
Her cunt was beautiful. There was no other word. A neat strip of trimmed black hair above the mound. Outer lips plump and puffy, already swollen with arousal. Inner lips—smaller, pinker—peeking out, glistening with her slick. Her clit was visible, peeking from its hood, engorged and begging for attention.
"Now." She dropped to her knees at the edge of the bed. Her hands found your belt. Unbuckled it. Unzipped your jeans. "Lift your hips."
You lifted. She peeled your jeans down. Your boxers followed. Your cock sprang free, slapping against your stomach—fully hard, the tip flushed purple, pre-cum beading at the slit. The shaft was veined and thick, curving slightly upward, the weight of your balls heavy and full beneath.
"There you are." Wonyoung wrapped her fingers around the base. Squeezed. A bead of pre-cum welled up and she caught it with her thumb, smearing it across the head. "I've been thinking about this cock all day. Couldn't concentrate on anything. Couldn't think about anything except how it felt stretching my tight little cunt."
She leaned forward. Her tongue darted out. Licked the slit.
Schllrrp.
Salty. Bitter. You watched her eyes flutter closed, watched her savor the taste like it was fine wine.
"Mmmmn." She licked again. Longer this time. From base to tip, tracing the thick vein on the underside. "So good. So fucking good. I could lick this cock for hours."
Her mouth opened. Wider. Wider. She took the head between her lips, her tongue swirling around the crown, dipping into the slit, lapping up the pre-cum that leaked steadily now.
"Suck it properly." Her voice was muffled. She spoke around your cock like she was talking to herself. "Suck it the way it deserves. The way Yujin never did."
The mention of Yujin's name was a needle in your chest. But the pain was distant. Drowned out by the feeling of Wonyoung's mouth sliding down your shaft—glrk, glrk, glrk—taking you deeper, deeper, until her nose pressed against your pubic bone and your cockhead bumped the back of her throat.
"Glrk—glrk—mmmnnn—glrk—"
She held herself there. Impaled on your cock. Her throat constricting around you, muscles rippling, massaging your shaft in waves. Her eyes—watery, mascara starting to run—stared up at you. Daring you to look away.
You couldn't.
She pulled back. Slowly. Her lips dragging along your shaft, her tongue pressing hard against the underside. When just the tip remained in her mouth, she sucked—hard—her cheeks hollowing with the force.
SLLLLRRRP-POP.
The sound of her releasing your cock was wet and obscene. A rope of saliva connected her lips to your tip. It stretched. Snapped.
"Fuck," you breathed.
"Language." She grinned. "But yes. Fuck. That's exactly what we're doing."
Her hand replaced her mouth. Stroking. Fast and slick and tight. "You like mommy's mouth on your cock? You like the way I choke on it?"
"Yes—"
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I like it. I like your mouth on my cock."
"Good boy." She squeezed harder. Pumped faster. "Now tell me—who has the best mouth? Me or Yujin?"
"I—she never—we never—"
"Oh, that's right. You never even got a blowjob from her, did you? Poor baby. All that time, and she never once got on her knees for you." Her tongue lapped at the head. Quick. Teasing. "Her loss. Because I'm going to suck this cock until your balls are empty. Then I'm going to ride it. Then I'm going to suck it again. We're not stopping until I say we stop. Understand?"
"Understand."
"Good."
She swallowed you again. This time there was nothing gentle about it. She fucked her own face with your cock—bobbing furiously, her saliva dripping down your shaft and pooling in your pubic hair, her throat making wet choking sounds that filled the room. Glrk-glrk-glrk-glrk. Her hand pumped whatever wouldn't fit in her mouth. Her other hand cupped your balls, kneading them, rolling them, tugging gently.
The pressure built. Low in your gut. Hot and tight.
"I'm close—Wonyoung, I'm—"
She pulled off immediately. "Not yet."
"But—"
"I said not yet." She stood. Climbed onto the bed. Pushed you flat against the mattress. "You don't cum until I'm wrapped around your cock. Until I've milked every drop out of you into my cunt. Until you've filled me up so full it leaks out of me for days."
She swung one leg over your hips. Straddled you. Her cunt hovered above your cock—so close you could feel the heat radiating from her, could see the slick glistening on her inner thighs.
"You're going to watch," she said. "Watch my pussy swallow your cock. Watch me take what I want."
Her hand wrapped around your shaft. Guided you to her entrance. The swollen lips of her cunt parted around your tip—schlrrrp—the sound wet and eager. She didn't sink down. Just held you there. The head of your cock nestled inside her, gripped by her inner muscles, while the rest of your shaft throbbed in the cool air.
"Please—"
"Please what?"
"Please, Wonyoung. Fuck me. Ride my cock."
"Since you asked so nicely."
She dropped.
Schlunk.
One motion. One fluid, brutal motion that impaled her on your cock. Her cunt swallowed you whole—every inch, every vein, every throbbing pulse of your shaft buried inside her in a single heartbeat.
"FFFFUUUUUCK." Her head fell back. Her mouth opened. Her tongue lolled out—long and pink and glistening. Her eyes rolled backward, the whites showing, her lashes fluttering. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, you're so deep. You're in my fucking stomach. I can feel you in my throat—"
Her cunt clenched around you. Rippled. Milked. The walls of her pussy were hot and wet and impossibly tight, gripping your cock like a fist, the inner ridges massaging your shaft with every tiny movement she made.
She started to move.
Not gentle. Not slow. She rode you like she was trying to break you—her hips slamming down, grinding, circling. Pap-pap-pap-pap. The sound of her ass meeting your thighs. Wet squelching sounds—splortch, schlick, squelsh—as her cunt gushed around you.
"Look at my tits." She grabbed them. Squeezed them together. Her nipples—dark and swollen—pointed at you like accusations. "Look at them bounce while I ride your cock. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Every time I drop down on this thick fucking dick, my tits bounce. You like that? You like watching mommy's tits bounce?"
"Yes—fuck—yes—"
"Good. Because they're going to bounce a lot. I'm going to ride you until my thighs give out. Until my cunt is sore. Until you've cum inside me so many times you can't remember what your own name is."
The first orgasm built fast. Too fast. Her cunt was too tight, too wet, her rhythm too punishing. You felt it coiling—pressure in your balls, heat in your spine, electricity in your skull.
"I'm cumming—Wonyoung, I'm—"
"Do it. Cum inside me. Fill me up. Now."
Splurt. Splurt. Splurt. Splurt.
Your cock pulsed inside her—violent, desperate spasms that pumped rope after rope of hot cum into her cunt. She kept riding through it, her hips never slowing, her pussy milking every drop. The sensation was overwhelming—pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain, your cock hypersensitive, each stroke sending jolts through your entire body.
"Yessssss." She hissed the word. Her nails dug into your chest. Raked downward. Left red scratches on your skin. "Yes, fill up mommy's cunt. So much cum. I can feel it. So warm. So thick. Keep going—keep fucking pumping—don't stop—"
Your orgasm subsided. But she didn't stop riding.
"Round one," she panted. "That was round one. We're doing this five times. Five loads. Five creampies. I want to be so full of your cum that it's dripping out of me for a week."
She kept moving. Kept grinding. Your cock—still hard, still buried inside her—twitched with oversensitivity. Every nerve ending screamed. But she didn't care. She leaned forward, her tits pressing against your chest, her mouth finding your neck.
"Round two," she whispered against your skin. "Let's go."
She rode you slower this time. Grinding. Circling her hips. Her pubic bone pressed against yours with each rotation, her clit grinding against your skin. Her breathing grew ragged. Her moans grew louder.
"Yes—yes—right there—don't stop—"
Her fingers found your nipples. Pinched. Twisted. Hard. The pain mixed with pleasure, blurring the lines until you couldn't tell them apart. Your hips bucked up into her, driving your cock deeper, and she screamed—a high, keening sound that bounced off the walls.
"Cum with me," she gasped. "Cum with me, baby boy. Fill me up again. I'm so close—so fucking close—"
Her cunt clamped down. Convulsed. Her orgasm hit—she squirted, clear fluid gushing from her, splashing across your stomach and thighs. The contractions of her pussy triggered your own release—your second load pumping into her, mixing with the first, filling her up until cum leaked out around your still-buried cock.
Splurt-splurt—schlosh—gush.
"Oh god, oh fuck, oh god—" Her tongue hung out. Her eyes rolled back. Her whole body shook. "Two—that's two—three more—I need three more loads—"
She collapsed against your chest. Panting. Her cunt still fluttering weakly around your cock. Your mixed fluids—cum and her slick and her squirt—soaked the silk sheets beneath you.
"Give me a minute." Her voice was slurred. Drunk with pleasure. "Just a minute. Then I'm riding you again."
The minutes blurred. Time lost meaning.
Round three: She flipped onto her back, pulled you on top of her. "Fuck me missionary. I want to see your face when you cum inside me this time." You drove into her—hard, deep, your hips slapping against hers. Splap-splap-splap. Her legs wrapped around your waist. Her heels dug into your ass. Her cunt gripped you like it never wanted to let go. When you came—your third load pumping into her—she watched your face the whole time. "Beautiful," she whispered. "You're so beautiful when you cum."
Round four: She bent over the edge of the bed. Ass up. Face down. "From behind. I want to feel you in my stomach." Her cunt looked obscene from this angle—puffy lips spread wide, your cum leaking out of her gaped hole, her clit swollen and red. You slammed into her. Harder than before. Brutal. Pap-pap-pap-pap. She screamed into the mattress. Her fingers clawed at the silk sheets. Her cunt squelched around you—splortch, schlick, squelsh—each thrust forcing more cum out of her, dripping down her thighs. When you came—your fourth load—you grabbed her hips and held yourself deep, pumping your seed directly against her cervix.
Round five: She was exhausted. You were exhausted. But she wouldn't stop. "One more. Give me one more. I need it. I need to be so full of you that I can't walk straight." She climbed on top of you again. Sunk down on your cock—schlunk—a wet, filthy sound. Her movements were slower now. Weaker. But no less desperate. She rode you until you both came together—your fifth orgasm, your fifth load, her third squirt of the night. The fluids pooled on the bed. Soaked the mattress. Filled the room with the smell of sex.
When it was over—when she finally collapsed beside you, her body limp and trembling—neither of you spoke for a long time.
Your cock was still half-hard. Still leaking. Your balls ached—empty, drained, wrung out. Your entire body felt like it had been used. Which, you supposed, it had.
Wonyoung curled against your side. Her head on your chest. Her leg draped over your thighs. Her cunt—still leaking your cum—pressed against your hip.
"Mine," she murmured. Already half-asleep. "You're mine now. All mine."
Your eyes grew heavy. The exhaustion was absolute. Bone-deep. You couldn't have moved if the building caught fire.
Sleep pulled you under.
You didn't hear the camera shutter.
You didn't see Wonyoung lift her phone. Didn't see her angle it carefully—her face pressed against your sleeping chest, your neck covered in her hickeys, your bodies tangled together on the ruined sheets. Didn't see her smile as she opened her messaging app.
Didn't see the photo send.
Didn't see the text that followed: "Thanks for delivering your boyfriend to me."
And somewhere across the city, in a small apartment with the lights off and the curtains drawn, Yujin's phone lit up on her nightstand.
The classroom was empty, the clock ticking slow. The sun angled through dusty blinds, catching chalk streaks on the board.
Ahyeon slouched back in her chair, arms crossed tight, trying to look unbothered. Across from her, he kicked back with his feet on a desk, chewing on gum.
“Y’know,” he said, staring at her with a grin that was more smug than friendly, “for an idol, you’re not that hot.”
Her eyes snapped to him, sharp. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He smirked. “All that glitter and lip-syncing—doesn’t change the fact you look like every other girl in uniform right now.”
She leaned forward, heat rushing to her cheeks. “Say that again and see what happens.”
He laughed. “There’s the temper. Must suck, huh? Getting praised on stage but deep down you know you’re average.”
Her nails dug into her thighs. “You really wanna test me?”
“Actually, yeah.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Bet you can’t make me cum in five minutes. All that idol charm? Worthless unless you can back it up.”
“C’mon,” he teased. “Prove me wrong. Or admit I’m right—idol or not, you’re just a girl who can’t handle a real man.”
Her pride snapped. She shot him a glare so hot it could’ve burned the desk. “Five minutes, huh? Fine. Don’t choke when you lose.”
He leaned back, unzipping his pants, his cock springing free half-hard. “Clock starts when you start.”
Ahyeon knelt, muttering under her breath. “I cannot believe I’m doing this for my group’s name…” She wrapped her hand around him, stroking slow, her pout deepening. “You’re gross.”
“Yet here you are,” he mocked, groaning as her tongue slid along the underside. “Idol Ahyeon, on her knees.”
She narrowed her eyes, sucking his tip with a sharp pop. “Shut up. I’m only doing this so you’ll stop running your mouth.”
Her lips slid down his shaft, cheeks hollowing, spit glistening as she pulled back with a wet slurp. His groan slipped out, and she smirked against him. “Mmm. Thought I wasn’t hot?”
“Fuck…” He chuckled between moans. “Still not hot. Just—goddamn—good at this.”
She bobbed faster, hand stroking his base, spit dripping onto his balls. Then, with a mischievous glance up at him, she pulled off, spitting into her cleavage and pressing his cock between her tits.
“Not hot, huh?” she teased, bouncing her chest, his shaft sliding between her perky tits slick with spit. “Say it again.”
He groaned louder, gripping the desk for balance. “Shit—you’re still average. Just… filthy for an idol.”
Ahyeon giggled around him as she leaned in, sucking the head while squeezing her tits tighter. “Filthy’s better than boring.”
He was shaking now, his cock twitching as she switched moves—one moment titfucking, the next swirling her tongue around his tip, the next licking slowly from his balls to his head, moaning exaggeratedly just to mock him.
“Tick-tock,” she teased between licks. “Five minutes, right? Already sweating, oppa.”
His head fell back, groaning, “Fuckkk, Ahyeon—you’re insane—”
“Mm, say it louder,” she purred, sucking hard on his tip before shoving him deep down her throat until she gagged. She pulled off, strings of spit connecting her lips to his cock. “Say my group’s worthless again, I dare you.”
He lasted seconds more before his cock jerked in her hands. With a final moan, he spilled across her face and uniform, white streaks staining her cheeks, lips, and collar.
Ahyeon sat back, wiping cum from her lashes, glaring up at him with a playful pout. “You’re disgusting.”
He grinned down at her, panting. “Yeah? You still swallowed half.”
She flicked cum off her shirt, scrunching her nose. “Gross. Bet I still looked hot doing it though.”
He smirked, cock still twitching. “Hot enough to win the bet.”
Ahyeon stood, tugging down her ruined uniform top, cum still streaked across her cheek. She should’ve stormed out and left him panting in the detention room. She should’ve pretended none of it happened.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she smirked, lifted her skirt, and hooked her thumbs under her panties, dragging them down slow until the damp strip of cotton clung to her thighs. She stepped out of them, tossed them on his desk, and spread her legs just enough to make him swallow hard.
Her pussy glistened, wet from the blowjob she swore she hated giving.
“Your turn,” she said, voice low but smug. “Fair’s fair.”
He blinked, stunned. “Wait—you’re serious?”
She tilted her head, hands on her hips, eyes sharp but playful. “I just let you cum all over my face, oppa. You think I’m leaving here without getting mine?”
He laughed nervously, cock twitching even though he’d just emptied himself. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy hot,” she corrected, stepping between his legs. She planted a knee on the desk and leaned in, grabbing a fistful of his hair to pull his head back. “Eat. Or I tell everyone an idol sucked you off in detention.”
His smirk faltered. “That’s blackmail.”
“That’s femdom,” she shot back, pressing her soaked pussy against his lips.
At first he resisted, lips tight, but she ground against him with a sharp roll of her hips, smearing wetness across his mouth. “Don’t make me say it again. I want your tongue.”
Finally, his lips parted. His tongue flicked tentatively against her slit.
Ahyeon moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut, thighs squeezing his head. “Mmm, that’s better. Good boy. Keep going.”
She rolled her hips, riding his face, one hand tangled in his hair, the other squeezing her own tit through her bra. Every lick made her wetter, dripping down his chin onto his collar.
He groaned against her, muffled, and she laughed breathlessly. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t love it. You called me average, remember? Not so average now, huh?”
Her moans grew louder, shameless, bouncing against the empty classroom walls. “Ahhh—fuck, right there—yes, oppa, eat it like you mean it—”
She pressed down harder, grinding against his mouth, using him like a toy. Her clit rubbed his tongue with every motion, her pussy trembling.
Then she yanked his hair back, panting, sweat shining on her chest. “Lick my ass too. Or are you too scared?”
His eyes widened, but she only smirked, pushing back until his tongue traced lower. She moaned wickedly, rocking against his face. “That’s it. Bet you didn’t think detention would end like this.”
At first he resisted, lips tight, but she ground against him with a sharp roll of her hips, smearing wetness across his mouth. “Don’t make me say it again. I want your tongue.”
Finally, his lips parted. His tongue flicked tentatively against her slit.
Ahyeon moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut, thighs squeezing his head. “Mmm, that’s better. Good boy. Keep going.”
She rolled her hips, riding his face, one hand tangled in his hair, the other squeezing her own tit through her bra. Every lick made her wetter, dripping down his chin onto his collar.
He groaned against her, muffled, and she laughed breathlessly. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t love it. You called me average, remember? Not so average now, huh?”
Her moans grew louder, shameless, bouncing against the empty classroom walls. “Ahhh—fuck, right there—yes, oppa, eat it like you mean it—”
She pressed down harder, grinding against his mouth, using him like a toy. Her clit rubbed his tongue with every motion, her pussy trembling.
Then she yanked his hair back, panting, sweat shining on her chest. “Lick my ass too. Or are you too scared?”
His eyes widened, but she only smirked, pushing back until his tongue traced lower. She moaned wickedly, rocking against his face. “That’s it. Bet you didn’t think detention would end like this.”
Her thighs shook, pussy clenching. She leaned back, riding his tongue shamelessly, words tumbling out between moans. “Ahhh—fuck, I’m gonna cum—keep going, don’t stop—ahhh oppa, eat it alllll~”
Her orgasm hit hard, squirting against his lips, soaking his chin and shirt. She collapsed forward, hands braced on his shoulders, panting, sweat-damp hair sticking to her cheeks.
She looked down at him, his face dripping with her slick. “Guess I’m hotter than average after all.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, dazed. “You’re insane.”
Ahyeon was still catching her breath, still smirking through the aftershocks of her orgasm, when he stood. His shadow loomed over her, his cock heavy, flushed, still slick from her spit.
She looked up at him with that bratty grin, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to her face. “What, detention boy? You gonna just stand there with that thing wagging at me?”
He grinned, sliding his cock against her pussy through her skirt, teasing the wet fabric until she gasped. Her smirk faltered, eyes locking with his.
Neither spoke.
And then he shoved her skirt up, pushed her panties aside, and slid in.
Her back slammed against the desk, papers scattering. She yelped, legs flying up as he drove into her with a single thrust.
“Ahhh—fuckkkk!” she cried, clutching the edge of the desk as his cock split her fresh pussy, walls squeezing tight around him.
He groaned, bending over her, face inches from hers. “Knew you were dripping for this.”
Her nails scratched his shoulders, her bratty smirk cracking into shameless moans. “N-nooo—you’re just—ahhh—fucking roughhh~”
Every thrust made the desk squeal across the floor. Her tits bounced under her uniform blouse, buttons straining until one popped, flashing the swell of her bra. He bent, biting her nipple through the fabric, making her squeal.
“Louder,” he growled, pounding harder.
She arched her back, her voice breaking, shameless now. “Ahhh—fuckkk oppaaa—yes yes yes—”
He dragged her up, spinning her to the chalkboard, pressing her tits against the cold surface. Chalk dust smeared her cheek as his cock slid back inside from behind.
She moaned into the wall, palms flat against it, ass slapping against his hips. “Godddd—it’s so dirty—detention’s not for thisss~”
“Sure it is,” he mocked, pounding her harder, pulling her hair back to make her arch. “Detention’s for teaching brats their place.”
Her eyes rolled, spit dripping down her chin as her cries echoed. “I-I’m nottt—a brattt—ahhh—”
Her pussy clenched around him, wetter with every thrust, juices dripping down her thighs. He slapped her ass, watching it ripple against the board.
“You’re dripping like you love it,” he hissed, fucking harder.
“Shut uppp—fuckkkk—you’re making me—ahhhhhh~” She squirted weakly against the wall, her body betraying her, sliding down the chalk-dusted surface.
He caught her before she collapsed, dropping into a chair and pulling her onto his lap. She straddled him, his cock sliding in deep, filling her to the hilt.
Her eyes went wide, lips trembling. “Ohhh—fuckkk—it’s so deep sitting like thisss~”
Her tits spilled as he ripped her blouse open, her bra askew. She covered her chest instinctively, but he yanked her arms away.
“Don’t hide. Ride me.”
She whimpered, rocking her hips slowly at first, grinding her clit against his pelvis. Then faster, bouncing in his lap, tits slapping against his chest.
Her moans were shameless now, her bratty voice turning sing-song between gasps. “Mmm yes yes—just like thatttt~ feels too fucking gooddd~”
He groaned, sucking her nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing. “Fuck, Ahyeon—you’re gonna make me cum like this.”
She smirked through her moans, grinding harder, her pussy milking him. “Good. Do it. Bet you can’t last if I fuck you back.”
Her orgasm ripped through her, squirting across his thighs as she moaned into his mouth, kissing him filthy. Her thighs were still trembling, her pussy swollen and dripping, when he slid back inside her slow. This time there was no pounding, no desk rattling, no sharp smack of skin.
Just deep, slow thrusts. His cock dragging along her soaked walls, pressing every spot, filling her until her toes curled.
She clung to him, sweaty palms sliding down his back, nails grazing. Their foreheads touched, lips brushing, moans slipping out between breaths.
“Fucking brat,” he muttered, grinding deeper, making her gasp.
She smirked through her moans, chest rising and falling. “Jerk… you’re just mad I made you cum so fast earlier.”
He kissed her hard, biting her lip, muffling her laugh. “Still came inside this tight little pussy. Bet you’ll be dripping me all week.”
Her giggle cracked into a moan, her hips rolling up to meet him. “Mmm—maybe I’ll let you. Better than peanut butter.”
His thrusts grew slower, deeper, each one deliberate, each one pulling a louder cry from her. Their eyes locked, both of them trying to hold the upper hand, both of them losing it with every moan.
“Say it,” he whispered, hips grinding. “Say you love this.”
Ahyeon tilted her head back, biting her lip, her bratty smile breaking into a cry. “F-fuck—you’re such a jerk—ahhh—”
Her pussy clenched hard around him, soaking his cock as her orgasm ripped through her, squirting weakly against his thighs. He groaned, pumping harder, until his cock pulsed deep inside her, spilling hot, thick cum into her womb.
They both shook, cumming together, her nails digging crescent moons into his skin as he groaned into her mouth.
He pulled out slow, his cum spilling from her pussy onto the floor. Ahyeon collapsed on her back, hair wild around her face, tits rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.
But he wasn’t done.
He straddled her chest, cock slick with their mess, hovering over her lips. She pouted up at him, bratty even now. “Seriously? After all that? You’re disgusting.”
He smirked, tapping his cock against her cheek. “And you’re still gonna clean me.”
Her eyes rolled, but she opened her mouth anyway, taking him in slow, licking his length like candy.
Her hands slid to her tits, squeezing them together, teasing him with the sight of her body as she sucked. Her nipples were stiff, her chest glistening with sweat, her bratty little moans humming around his cock.
He groaned, looking down at her naked body, spread out on the dirty classroom floor, tits squeezed and bouncing as she serviced him.
“Fuck, Ahyeon. You’re such a dirty brat.”
She pulled off just long enough to smirk up at him, lips shiny with spit. “Maybe. But you’re still the jerk who fell for it.”
Then she swallowed him back down, moaning around his cock, making sure he saw every inch disappear between her lips while her hands pinched her nipples, rolling them until her pussy clenched all over again.
Tags : Rape!, Gangbang, Creampie, Hardcore Sex, Used, Breeding, Multiple Penetration, Kinky, Whore, Blowjob, Deepthroat, Crying, Mature, Public Sex, World Cup
Words: 3,358 Words
This Story contains Rape! So Reader Discretion is Advised. This story is a Commision Work for @sinbaddict Hope Yall Like it.
The roar of eighty thousand voices hit Eunbi like a wall of sound the moment she stepped out of the VIP tunnel.
She'd worn a simple white summer dress—loose cotton that ended mid-thigh—and a red bucket hat pulled low, hoping to blend in. Hoping to just be another fan in the stands for Korea's World Cup semifinal against Brazil. The disguise was laughable. Within thirty seconds of finding her seat in the premium section, the phones started coming out.
"Is that..."
"Holy shit, that's Kwon Eunbi..."
"EUNBI! EUNBI-UNNIE!"
She smiled, waved, the reflexive idol response that years of training had drilled into her muscles. A quick flutter of fingers. Then she turned back to the pitch, where the teams were lining up for the national anthems, and tried to make herself small.
The man to her left wasn't having it.
He was big. Not fat—broad. Shoulders like a wrestler's, a soccer jersey stretched tight across his chest. Late twenties, maybe. His knee pressed against hers as he leaned in, his breath hot and beery against her neck.
"You're even prettier in person," he said.
Eunbi's skin crawled. "Thank you," she managed, and shifted away.
Her movement only seemed to encourage him. His hand landed on her thigh.
"Hey—" She tried to push it off.
The hand stayed. Squeezed.
"I said—"
"Shhh." His fingers dug into the soft flesh above her knee. "Just watch the game, idol-girl."
Around them, the crowd was cheering as the Korean team took the pitch. Nobody was looking at her. Nobody except the man's friends—three of them, turning in their seats now, their expressions shifting from curiosity to something hungrier when they saw where their friend's hand was.
"This is happening," one of them said, not a question.
The broad-shouldered man—Eunbi decided to call him Jersey in her head, because his jersey had SON 7 on the back—just grinned. "Help me get her down."
"What—no—"
Her protest died as hands seized her from behind. Someone had come up the row. Someone else. A fifth man, a sixth. They were rising from seats all around her, closing in like a net drawing tight, and Eunbi's mind raced through every anti-sasaeng protocol she'd ever been taught—
Stay calm. Don't escalate. Look for security.
She spotted a yellow-vested guard three sections over, but the crowd was a solid mass of bodies now, a wall of sweating, shouting fans, and her voice was swallowed by the stadium's roar as Korea took possession and eighty thousand people screamed.
Jersey yanked her out of her seat. The plastic armrest caught her hip, hard enough to bruise, and then she was on the concrete floor, the grit of it scraping her knees, her bucket hat tumbling away.
"Please—" She tried to crawl.
Someone grabbed her ankle and pulled. Her dress rode up. The concrete scraped her thighs, her stomach. Hands flipped her onto her back and she was staring up at a ring of faces, men grinning down at her, their eyes bright with the thrill of it.
"Fuck, she's so scared," one of them said, like it was the best thing he'd ever seen.
"I'm not—please, someone help—"
A hand clamped over her mouth. "Stop that."
She bit down. Hard.
The man yelped, yanked his hand back, and Eunbi saw the blood welling in his palm before someone else's fist drove into her stomach and all the air left her lungs in a single, silent rush.
She couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. Couldn't do anything but curl around the pain while hands tore her dress up over her hips, her chest, her head. The cotton ripped. Her bra followed—a simple white thing, gone in two tugs that snapped the straps and left her breasts bare to the stadium lights.
"Oh fuck, those are real," someone breathed.
"Of course they're real, she's an idol—"
"Hold her arms."
They pinned her wrists to the concrete. Straddled her chest. Someone's knees pressed down on her biceps, and Eunbi could only kick, her bare heels slapping uselessly against the floor while the men around her unbuckled their belts.
The match was still going. Korea was pressing forward, the crowd was a single roaring organism, and nobody—nobody—was looking at the premium section where six men were stripping a woman naked on the floor.
Jersey knelt between her legs. His cock was already out—thick, uncut, the head glistening with pre-cum that smeared across her inner thigh when he pressed himself against her.
"Look at this cunt," he said, pulling her panties aside with one thick finger. "Fucking perfect. Pink and tight."
"Don't—please don't—I'll give you money, I'll give you anything—"
"Don't want your money, idol-girl." He lined himself up. The blunt heat of him pressed against her opening and Eunbi's whole body went rigid, her muscles clenching, trying to keep him out.
He pushed.
She screamed.
The sound was swallowed by eighty thousand voices as Korea took a shot on goal and the stadium erupted.
Jersey sank into her. No lube, no patience, just the brutal friction of his cock forcing her cunt open around him. Eunbi felt every inch—the ridge of his head dragging against her inner walls, the vein pulsing along the underside of his shaft, the way her body stretched to accommodate something far too large, far too sudden.
"Fuck, she's tight," he grunted.
"She's dry, you idiot—"
"Not for long."
He pulled back and slammed in again. Again. Again. Each thrust was a piston-drive, balls-deep, his hips slapping against her thighs with wet, meaty sounds that seemed to echo even through the stadium noise.
Eunbi's back arched. Her breasts bounced with every impact, and someone reached down to pinch her nipples, twisting until she shrieked.
"She's getting wet now," Jersey announced, and the humiliation of it—the truth of it—made her want to die. But her body was betraying her, her cunt slicking itself despite everything, making each thrust smoother, faster, easier.
"Let me see her face."
Someone grabbed her jaw and turned her head. A phone camera was inches from her face, recording every expression—the tears, the open-mouthed gasps, the way her eyes rolled back when Jersey changed angles and hit something deep inside her that made her whole body convulse.
"Say hi to the internet, Eunbi-ssi."
"No—"
"Say hi."
"Hi," she sobbed.
They laughed.
The man holding the phone moved behind her head. She felt his cock slapping against her cheek, her lips, and she clamped her mouth shut, shaking her head.
"Open up or I'll break your nose."
"Nnn—"
He pinched her nostrils. Eunbi held out for ten seconds, fifteen, her lungs burning—and then her mouth opened on instinct and he shoved himself inside, filling her throat in one brutal thrust.
Can't breathe. Can't breathe. CAN'T BREATHE.
Her gag reflex spasmed around him. He didn't care. He just fucked her face while Jersey fucked her cunt, and the two of them found a rhythm, pistoning into her from opposite ends while the other men waited their turns, stroking themselves, cheering like they were watching the match on the pitch instead of a woman being used like a piece of meat on the concrete.
"Fuck, she's good—"
"That throat's made for cock—"
"Tighter than my girlfriend—"
The words washed over her in fragments. Eunbi's mind was detaching, floating somewhere above her body, watching this happen to someone else. But the sensations kept dragging her back—the ache in her jaw, the burn between her legs, the wet slosh of her own fluids coating Jersey's cock as he fucked her harder, faster, his balls slapping against her ass.
Her nipples were on fire. Someone had attached clips to them—where had those come from?—and the metal teeth bit into her sensitive flesh, sending jolts of pain-pleasure-pain through her chest with every bounce of her breasts.
"She's gonna make me cum," Jersey announced.
"Do it inside."
"Yeah, breed that idol pussy—"
"No," Eunbi tried to say, but the word was just a garbled choke around the cock in her throat. "No, please, I'm not—I'm not on anything, please—"
Jersey grinned down at her. "That's the point."
He buried himself deep and came.
Eunbi felt it. Felt the hot flood of his seed splashing against her cervix, pulse after pulse after pulse, his cock twitching inside her like a living thing. He held her hips down while he emptied himself, grinding against her, making sure every drop was pressed as deep as possible.
When he pulled out, the mess followed—a thick white trickle that dripped down across her ass and pooled on the concrete.
"Next," he said.
The phone camera was still recording.
The second man didn't wait. He flipped Eunbi onto her stomach, hauled her hips up, and drove into her from behind while her face was pressed into the concrete. Her breasts scraped against the rough surface. The nipple clamps dragged and caught, pulling until she screamed.
"Fuck, she's still tight—"
"Of course she is, she's an idol, they're all tight—"
"Add another one."
"What?"
"Another cock. In her cunt. It'll stretch."
Eunbi sobbed against the floor. "You can't—that won't—"
"Yes we can," said the man fucking her mouth. He'd pulled out to let her speak, and now he was stroking himself, his cock slick with her saliva. "We can do whatever we want."
The third man knelt behind her. She felt his cock pressing against her already-stuffed cunt, the impossible pressure of trying to fit two inside her.
"It won't—"
"Shut up."
He pushed.
Eunbi's scream was hoarse, a torn thing that barely escaped her throat. The stretch was unbearable—two cocks inside her pussy, forcing her walls apart, filling her so completely that she could feel them moving against each other, could feel every vein, every ridge, every pulse of blood.
"Oh fuck," the man already inside her groaned. "I can feel him—"
"Move, you bastard—"
They moved. Not in rhythm—that would have been too organized, too mechanical for what this was. They moved like animals, rutting into her without coordination, their cocks sliding against each other inside her cunt while Eunbi's body bucked and jerked between them.
Her vision was going white. The overload was too much—pain and pleasure and humiliation and fear all churning together into something that short-circuited her brain.
Her cunt clenched around them.
"Shit, she's cumming—"
"Is she?"
"Feel it, feel her squeezing—"
Eunbi was cumming. Her body was betraying her completely, orgasm ripping through her muscles, her thighs trembling, her back arching, her mouth open in a soundless scream. The two men fucking her laughed and kept going, pounding her through it, stretching her climax into something raw and painful and endless.
The man at her mouth shoved back in. She tasted salt and skin and the bitter tang of her own throat's protests. He fucked her face with the same brutality as the men in her cunt, and Eunbi's world narrowed to the rhythm of three cocks using her body simultaneously.
Her jaw clicked. Her pussy burned. The concrete had scraped her knees raw.
And the match was still going.
She could hear the crowd's distant roar, the commentator's voice announcing Korea's first goal, the eruption of cheers that shook the stadium. Her country was winning. She was being destroyed.
"Swallow it," the man in her mouth grunted, and then his cock swelled and he came, flooding her throat with a hot, thick load that she had no choice but to gulp down or drown in.
She swallowed. His cum was bitter, viscous, coating her tongue and the back of her throat. Her eyes watered. Her throat constricted around each pulse, milking him dry while he held her head in place and groaned his satisfaction.
"Good girl," he said, pulling out. "Good fucking throat-slut."
Eunbi coughed, gasped, spat. A thick string of cum dangled from her lip. Before she could wipe it away, another man was there, pushing his cock between her lips.
"My turn."
The men in her cunt were getting close. She could feel it in the way they sped up, their thrusts becoming jerky, erratic, their breathing harsh. The one behind her came first, roaring as he emptied himself into her already-flooded pussy. The second followed seconds later, and Eunbi felt the hot twin spurts of their combined loads splashing inside her, filling her, overflowing from her stretched hole and running down her thighs.
Three men down. Three loads inside her.
How many more were waiting?
She got her answer when hands rolled her over again. She was on her back now, staring up at the ring of faces, her body a mess of sweat and cum and concrete dust. Her breasts were red and bruised from the clamps. Her pussy was gaping, leaking, the lips puffy and swollen.
"Ass next," someone said.
"No—please, not there—"
"A virgin ass? Fuck yes."
"Hold her legs up. Spread her cheeks."
Eunbi kicked, thrashed, but they were too many, too strong. Her legs were pushed up to her chest, her ass exposed, and she felt a cock pressing against her tightest hole, the pressure building, building—
"Wait," Jersey said. "Give her something to bite down on."
He shoved his belt between her teeth. Leather and sweat and the cold bite of the buckle. Eunbi bit down and then the man behind her pushed and she screamed into the leather as her ass was torn open.
No lube. No mercy. Just the brutal invasion of cock into a hole never meant for it, the burning stretch of muscle forced apart, the sensation of being split in two.
"Fuck, she's tight—"
"Tighter than her cunt—"
"Move, move, I wanna see it—"
He moved. Deep, grinding thrusts that went impossibly deep, the head of his cock pressing against places that made Eunbi's vision spark with strange, terrifying pleasure. Her body was beyond betrayal now—it was actively collaborating, her ass clenching around the invasion in a rhythm that matched his thrusts, her cunt dripping fresh slick down her thighs.
She was moaning into the belt. Moaning and drooling and rocking her hips back to meet him.
"Look at that. She loves it."
"She's a fucking whore."
"All idols are whores. They just pretend."
The phone camera captured everything. Eunbi stared into its lens and saw herself reflected back—hair tangled, face streaked with tears and cum, mouth stretched around a leather belt, body impaled on a stranger's cock. She looked ruined. She looked…
She looked like she was enjoying it.
The thought made her cum again, a sudden shattering orgasm that seized her whole body and left her twitching on the concrete. The man in her ass laughed and fucked her harder.
"Feel that? She just came on my cock."
"Do it again. Make her cum again."
He did. Over and over, until Eunbi lost count, until her orgasms blurred into one continuous state of overload, her body no longer distinguishing between pleasure and pain. She was just a hole now. Just a thing to be filled. And they filled her.
They filled her ass. They came in her ass, three more loads that pooled deep in her bowels and leaked out when the next man pulled his cock free. They filled her cunt again. They came on her face, her breasts, her hair. They took turns in her mouth until her jaw was so sore she couldn't close it, until her throat was raw from swallowing, until the taste of cum was all she knew.
At some point—she didn't know when—they moved her. Propped her against the seats so they could fuck her in new positions. Bent her over the railing so the section below could see her tits bouncing. Laid her across three seats and took her from every angle while the match played on and the crowd cheered and Korea scored again and again and again.
Four-nil. Five-nil. Six.
The goal celebrations blended with the men's climaxes. Every roar from the crowd meant another load in her body, another pair of hands on her skin, another cock forcing its way into her holes.
She was blindfolded now—someone had tied a scarf over her eyes, and the sensory deprivation made everything worse and better at the same time. She couldn't see the next violation coming. Could only feel it—the sudden hands, the unexpected penetration, the cocks that appeared in her mouth and cunt and ass with no warning.
"Please," she kept saying, her voice a ruined whisper. "Please, no more, I can't—"
"One more."
"There's always one more."
"Open up."
She opened.
The match was ending. She could tell from the crowd's sustained roar, the way the cheering had shifted from celebration to the long, sustained noise of a victory chant. Korea was going to the finals. The stadium was ecstatic.
And Eunbi was on her knees, her blindfold dark with tears, her body a canvas of handprints and bruises and drying cum, her holes dripping with the seed of men she'd never seen, her mind floating somewhere far away where the word "no" still had meaning.
A final cock pressed against her lips.
"Last one, idol-girl. Make it good."
She opened her mouth.
The man shoved in—and then paused.
"Wait. I want to try something."
Hands lifted her. Moved her. Positioned her on her back with her head hanging off the edge of a seat. Her throat was a straight line now, open, vulnerable.
"Throat-fuck position. Goes all the way down."
"Fuck, really?"
"Watch."
The cock slid into her mouth, and then kept going—past her soft palate, into her throat, down, down, until Eunbi's neck bulged with the outline of it and she couldn't breathe at all, could only lay there with her throat stretched around him while the men above her groaned in appreciation.
"Look at that."
"You can see it in her neck."
"Fuck her throat, fuck her throat—"
He fucked her throat. Long, deep strokes that bottomed out against her collarbones, that cut off her air for seconds at a time, that left her lightheaded and floating and strangely, impossibly calm.
This is what I am now, she thought. Just a hole. Just a throat. Just a place for men to put their cocks.
Her cunt was dripping. Her body was still betraying her. Still wanting more.
The man in her throat came, and she swallowed without being told, her throat milking him dry, his cum sliding directly into her stomach with no chance to taste it.
Then he pulled out.
The blindfold came off.
Eunbi blinked in the sudden light, in the roar of the stadium, in the sight of a dozen men zipping up their pants, their faces satisfied, their attention already turning back to the pitch where the Korean team was doing a victory lap.
Jersey knelt down beside her. His phone was in his hand. Her own face stared back at her from the screen—a still image from the video he'd taken, her expression caught mid-scream, her body impaled on two cocks at once.
"We're going to post this," he said, almost conversationally. "Unless you want to make a deal."
Eunbi's voice was a croak. "What deal?"
"There's an afterparty. VIPs. Important people. They'd pay a lot for a night with Kwon Eunbi."
"I—"
"Or we post the video. Your choice."
The stadium lights blazed down on her naked, ruined body. Eighty thousand fans were still cheering. The world was still turning.
And Eunbi realized, with a strange, hollow clarity, that her choice had been taken from her the moment she'd stepped into this stadium.
"Fine," she whispered. "Fine. I'll—I'll go to the afterparty."
Jersey smiled. "Good girl. Now get dressed. You've got a long night ahead of you."
He tossed her the torn remains of her dress and walked away, leaving Eunbi alone on the concrete, covered in cum and bruises, with the cameras still flashing and the crowd still roaring and nothing ahead of her but more.
Pre-story notes: Stocks for #BreedAhyeon is now officially open!
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*Tokyo, 1953
I’m on my chair, hot pot by my table and my mistress, Ahyeon, still sleeping soundly on my bed.
This morning’s paper just arrived. That boy Yoshiro from downstairs tossed it onto my balcony like always—bad aim, nearly knocking over my ashtray. I opened the paper slowly, creases sharp against my fingers, and there it was in bold print: *Armistice Signed, Korea Divided at 38th Parallel.*
I exhaled smoke through my nose, watching it curl toward the ceiling. Ahyeon shifted under the thin sheet behind me, her bare shoulder peeking out, the curve of it smooth and warm in the dim light.
I thought, Gosh, has it really been that long since I took this girl with me?
She was a refugee fleeing the war, too young to remember how she ended up in Tokyo, at the Hamura brothel of all places, my regular stop.
I thought, Fuck! I couldn’t get enough of this girl! Her Japanese might be broken. But every minute with her was every penny worth spent! And now, with the war ending, I wondered if she'd want to go back.
“Daddy…”
I looked up to find her eyes staring back at me, half-lidded and sleepy, her dark hair tangled against the pillow. She stretched with a kitten-like yawn, the sheet slipping further down her waist—no shame in her nakedness, not anymore.
"Anything interesting on the news?" she asked, her accent thick as honey as she got up.
“You might want to look at this…” I gestured to her.
Ahyeon shuffled forward, wrapping the sheet around herself loosely—not out of modesty, but because the morning sun was still cool. She peered over my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck, then froze. Her fingers dug into my arm lightly as she read the headline. I could feel her heartbeat through her skin, rapid like a sparrow’s.
“So is it over?” She whispered the words, like she was afraid the paper might bite her if she spoke too loud. The sheet slipped further as she leaned in, those big ass titties of hers pressing against my shoulder.
“I have no idea. It says it’s an armistice. A stalemate.” I replied.
“I don’t know what kind of deal the Americans made with the Chinese… Or the Russians… Those words don’t sound like surrender…” I added.
The memory of the war was still with me, a hole in my hand courtesy of Doolittle himself! Yeah! That same Doolittle that led that raid in ‘42.
I was shot down sometime before the war ended, barely making it out of my Zero when I crash landed on the shore. I managed to recover from that and was ready to fly again. But on the day I was scheduled for another bombing run, the Americans dropped the bomb on Hiroshima, and the Emperor surrendered a few days later.
That announcement still struck me to this day, all of that—for nothing. The Emperor’s voice crackled over the radio, so unlike the god we were told he was. Just a man, surrendering. The message was clear. We were done.
But this new one, a war between ideologies that tore a nation apart, the message didn’t look promising. The communists were still around and so were the capitalists. I know where my country stands, but Ahyeon’s mere silence clouded my thoughts.
She was still there, her young yet big tits squishing my shoulder as she kept her gaze on the article, perhaps trying to read or understand every single word.
“Still thinking about going back?” I couldn’t help but wonder.
I felt the grip on my arm tighten suddenly—not painful, just present—as she exhaled against my neck.
“Daddy,” she murmured, “where would I go?”
There was no bitterness, just the quiet resignation of a girl who’d known too much war too young. The sheet slid down further, pooling at her hips, but she didn’t bother pulling it back up.
“There’s nothing left for me, Daddy… I have nothing left…” She added, pressing her lips against my shoulder—not a kiss, just an anchor.
Her fingers traced the scar on my hand, the one from Doolittle’s bullet, as if she could read the war in its ridges. The sheet finally gave up, sliding to the floor with a whisper, leaving her bare against me.
Slowly, she struts her way towards my front, her naked frame, albeit the top part of it shining brightly under the morning sky, her legs simply wrapped in a lacy black panty that barely holds anything in. She leans in closer, her hand caressing my cheeks, as I stare back into her eyes—eyes that seemed to have seen war, yet still held innocence and tenderness.
"Daddy..." she murmurs, her lips curling into a playful smile.
"You take care of me better than any home ever could." Her fingers trace my jawline, lingering a little too long, like she’s memorizing the shape of me.
“You’re not saying that just to impress me, are you?” I couldn’t help but tease, knowing girls like her were opportunistic in the wrong ways.
Her grin widened as she straddled my lap, pressing her thighs against me. The smell of her—a mix of sleep and that cheap rose perfume she loved—filled the space between us.
“No, Daddy,” she purred, “you know I don’t lie. Not to you.” Her hips shifted, deliberate, and I grunted when she grounded against me, her panties already damp through the thin fabric.
The newspaper crinkled beneath my fingers, forgotten. The war—any war—felt distant when she moved like this, her breath hitching as she rolled her hips again, slow and teasing. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me groan.
“F-Fuck… I can’t… Afford to keep spending on you… F-Forever, you know…” I warned her, or at least I tried to.
I'm barely getting by just to have her on my bed each week! Yet here she was—smirking, grinding down on my lap like she owned me, which in some way she did! Her fingers slid down my chest, nails dragging lightly over my chest before settling on my shorts.
"Do you really want me to leave?" She tilted her head, her thumb hooking into the waistband of my shorts, pulling just enough to make my breath catch.
"Would you stay if I told you I have nothing?" I countered back.
And that was when she stopped. I could see it already, the doubt of a refugee who knew the cost of belonging—how quickly a body could become currency. Her fingers stilled against my shorts, her smirk softening into something fragile.
“I don’t need money to stay,” she said quietly, her hips still pressed flush against mine.
“I just need you.” The words were too raw, too honest for a girl who was taught to charge by the hour.
"I feel safe when I'm with you... I eat a lot more when I'm with you... I sleep better when I'm with you..." Ahyeon whispered, her voice cracking as she pressed her forehead against mine.
"You're more than a client to me, Daddy... When I'm with you, I'm given hope that there are still good people out there..."
When she said that, I thought a part of me died. Once upon a time I flew around her country's skies while my colleagues committed crimes against her people—yet here she was clinging to me like I was the only good thing left in this rotten world. My fingers tightened around her waist, pressing into soft skin as she exhaled against my lips, warm and sweet like stolen candy.
Ahyeon laughed suddenly—a small, broken sound—as she dragged her fingers through my stubble. "You look like you're about to cry," she teased, but her eyes were wet too.
"I-I mean... It's just that I-... I have never received that kind of compliment before..." I explained.
My life was the war, and all the lives I took in the name of our empire. But to hear her say that—like I was something worth keeping-made my chest ache. The morning sun caught the tears clinging to her lashes, turning them into tiny prisms. I didn't deserve this. Not after the things I'd done. Not when she should've spat in my face instead of grinding against my lap like I was her salvation.
"Now tell me, Daddy... What am I to you?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper, lips brushing mine with each word.
The weight of her question hung between us—heavy, dangerous. I could lie, could call her my mistress, my toy, something disposable. But her fingers trembled against my chest, betraying how much she needed the truth.
"Everything..." I managed to choke out before her lips crashed into mine—soft but insistent, tasting of sleep and desperation.
Her hands clutched the front of my top like she was drowning, pulling me closer until the newspaper fell on the floor. I could feel her heartbeat through her skin—wild and erratic—as she deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding against mine with a hunger that had nothing to do with lust. The faint taste of morning tea lingered on her lips, mixing with the salt of tears neither of us would acknowledge.
Outside, Tokyo buzzed with the news of armistice, bicycles rattling over cobblestones and radios blaring from open windows. But in my cramped apartment, time slowed—her breath warm against my cheek, her thighs tightening around my hips as if she feared I might vanish. Wars had taught us both how fragile things could be.
She pulled back just enough to press her forehead against mine, her fingers tracing the scar on my jaw—the one from shrapnel in '43.
"Daddy," she whispered, voice trembling, "say it again." Her hips rocked forward insistently, not for pleasure this time, but proof. Proof that I meant it.
I caught her wrists, pressing her palms flat against my chest where she could feel the rapid thud beneath my ribs. "You're everything, Ahyeon..." I repeated, rough with sincerity.
She made a small sound—half-laugh, half-sob—and kissed me again, teeth scraping my lip.
I lifted us up before taking her back into my bed. The sheets smelled of her—sweet sweat and rose water—as I laid her down, her dark hair fanning across the pillow like spilled ink. Her hands found my face again, thumbs brushing the stubble along my jaw, her touch softer than any silk.
"Daddy," she murmured, "I don’t care about going back anymore." The words hit harder than any bullet ever could.
Her fingers traced the old shrapnel scars on my chest—each one a story she never asked about, each one a ghost she chose to embrace instead of fear. For the first time in years, I felt something crack open inside me—something I thought the war had burned away for good.
“I don't have much,” I admitted, my voice rough against the crown of her head.
“This apartment, half-empty rice sacks, my fucking pension... that’s it.” My fingers tangled in her hair, gripping tighter than I intended, but she arched into it with a sigh.
Her thighs hitched over my hip, skin sticking to mine where sweat pooled between us.
"Daddy," she giggled—actually giggled—and pressed her nose into the hollow of my throat, "you still smell like engine oil."
Ok, that was rather unexpected... I hadn't flown in nearly a decade, but the scent must've seeped into my pores like betrayal. Her lips traveled up to my ear, teeth scraping the lobe.
"I like it."
Outside, some random kid shouted something obscene at a stray cat—Tokyo's usual symphony. But here, with Ahyeon's legs locking around my waist, the city felt muffled. Her fingers dug into my back, blunt nails leaving half-moon indents as she gasped against my neck.
She smelled like yesterday's cheap soap and today's sweat, her skin sticky where our stomachs pressed together. The bed creaked under our weight, a familiar protest.
"Even if you smell like a Zero," she murmured, lips grazing my collarbone, "You still feel like home." Her hips lifted, pressing against me with a certainty that left no room for argument—she wasn't going anywhere.
The newspaper lay abandoned on the floor, armistice forgotten as she nipped at my pulse point. Wars had carved hollows in both of us, but right now, the only territory that mattered was the heat between her thighs. I gripped her waist, thumbs pressing into the delicate dip above her hipbones—proof she wasn't a ghost, wasn't some guilt-induced hallucination.
She laughed against my mouth, the sound muffled and breathless, her teeth catching my lower lip. "Daddy keeps thinking too much," she chided, rolling her hips in a slow, filthy circle that made my back arch.
"Fuck me already..." She cooed, taking off her panties slowly like she was peeling off a promise.
The lace snagged on her thigh—some cheap market crap—but when she tossed it aside, I couldn't look away from the wet shine between her legs.
"You're thinking again," she breathed, grabbing my wrist and pressing my fingers against her, hot and slick.
"Feel that? That's all for you." Her voice cracked—not seduction now, just raw need.
I didn’t hesitate. My fingers curled inside her, knuckles pressing into slick heat as she gasped, her thighs clamping around my wrist. Her nails raked down my chest, leaving angry red trails over old scars.
Every moan and every whimper of her lips felt like redemption—something I never knew I needed until her body arched under my touch. The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting golden streaks across her bare skin as she trembled, her breath coming in short, sweet gasps. She pulled me closer, fingers gripping my shoulders like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go.
"Daddy... please," she begged, her voice breaking in a way that made my chest ache.
"Fuck me please..." She uttered, her hands now fishing for my dick.
She grabs my cock through my shorts, stroking it to the point where its confines could no longer hide the fact that I'm fully erect—her smirk widening when she feels the damp patch of pre-cum soaking through the fabric.
"No more thinking," she whispers, tugging my shorts down with impatient fingers, her breath hitching when I spring free against her stomach.
The moment my tip brushes her soaked folds, she arches with a sharp gasp, her nails digging into my hips as she guides me inside—slow, torturous, until I'm buried to the hilt.
"Fuck..." She gasped, her body tightening around like a vice, her walls pulsing with every shallow thrust.
It wasn’t just warmth—it was molten, like sinking into a bath after years of freezing nights. Her clit hugged me with an almost possessive grip, slick and snug, as if her body had memorized the shape of me and refused to let go. Every inch of her trembled, her thighs shaking against my hips, her breath ragged against my neck—raw, unfiltered need dripping from every sound she made.
"Yes... D-Daddy yes..." She grunted.
I've lost count how many weeks it has been since I took her in, how many Sunday nights I have requested Hamura to have her come over.
Every entry always felt like the first time! That's the one thing that separated Ahyeon from the other girls. With them, it was quick—fast, efficient—like fucking a corpse. But Jung Ahyeon? She moved like she wanted to be savored, her hips rolling against me in slow, deliberate circles, each drag of my cock drawing a soft, shuddering gasp from her lips.
The bed creaked beneath us, not in protest, but in rhythm—like an old song we'd danced to a hundred times before. Her fingers traced the scars on my back, mapping the damage like she was memorizing every ridge and valley, her breath hot against my shoulder.
"D-Daddy... H-Harder..." Ahyeon gasped.
The slap of skin against skin filled my apartment, her thighs trembling where they gripped my hips—desperate, clinging. Her glorious tits bounced with each thrust, the morning sun slowly burning my skin like the first time I crash landed.
That was in '43, when I tried yet failed to protect Admiral Yamamoto from a surprise American attack. I really thought that was the end of me for my failure to protect such a man who was a close second to the Emperor himself.
But a couple more years and one final crash just outside of Tokyo's coast ended my career—fractured pelvis, shattered ribs, and burns that never healed right. Funny how war scars you in ways no surgeon could fix.
Ahyeon's nails raked down my chest now, dragging over those old burns like she could erase them with her touch, her breath coming in ragged little whimpers against my ear.
"D-Daddy, don't stop—" Her plea broke off into a sharp cry as I angled deeper, my thumbs digging into the soft flesh of her hips to hold her still.
And that was when I truly lost sense of control. I plow myself in and out of the little girl like a man possessed!
My heart rate was through the roof! My adrenaline was at an all time high, like the many times I relied on instinct when all seemed lost and I was ready to fall with my plane.
But instead of blood, I was drowning in Ahyeon—her slick heat squeezing me tight with every thrust, her sweat-slicked body arching beneath me like she was trying to merge with my skin.
Her moans grew louder, less controlled, her fingers twisting in the sheets before she suddenly grabbed my wrists and pinned them beside her head—her strength surprising me even now.
"No more thinking," she panted, her hips bucking up to meet mine, "just feel me."
The slap of flesh grew louder, her moans mingling with the distant hum of Tokyo waking up outside—bicycle bells, vendors calling, all of it fading beneath the sound of her nails scraping my shoulders. Her thighs clamped tighter around my waist, her back arching off the mattress as her climax hit, her cunt pulsing around me in rhythmic waves that dragged a ragged groan from my throat.
I didn't pull out. Couldn't. Not when she was looking at me like that—eyes glazed, lips parted, her fingers trembling where they clutched my wrists.
"Yes, daddy! Fill me up! Cum inside me!"
And that's when I said 'Fuck it!'
I pushed one last time and felt myself blow up deep down inside her! Every drop and every spurt of my jizz was felt all over my dick, hot, warm, like burning fire in the middle of winter! Ahyeon arched her back with a loud gasp—almost a scream—her body shuddering violently as she took every last ounce of me.
The girl took it, she always did. Except this time, she felt soft... So soft... Like the most delicate silk I've ever touched. My hips jerked involuntarily, my cock twitching inside her as she clenched around me—milking me dry.
"Daddy," she whimpered, her voice breaking as tears spilled down her cheeks—not from pain, but something deeper.
Her fingers traced my lips shakily, her breath hitching when I kissed her fingertips, tasting salt and sweat.
I don't know what will happen after this. But whatever we are right now, I don't want to lose it.
Notes: I had a request some time ago about a WW2 Veteran-idol kind of fic.
If you’re still around maybe this will do? His request was a German veteran though but the Japanese was a lot easier and made more sense.
As much as I’d like to though to make a former German soldier and idol pairing, I don’t know up to what extent is the Tumblr TOS on the subject of N*zis. Even I do not like having to obscure words like that.
So yeah, enjoy Ahyeon. SHE CAN SO FUCKING GET IT!!!
First of all my name is Mark Barr; I'm forty-six years old and an architect. I'm no Remington Steele or Tom Cruise, whichever generation you come from; but I would like to think that at six foot two and a hundred and ninety pounds I can still cut a decent manly pose. We have an in home gym in our basement that I will admit I probably could and should use more; but find the time.
MY wife's name is Dara, she teaches English at our local high school. No our sex life isn't terrible, and no she doesn't screw every male in town. Like me; at forty-five age has caught up to her a bit; her 36C's hang a big heavier on her chest, and her hips might be a bit fuller after two kids; but she has an ass you could grip all night long.
Last night we were getting frisky after going to bed. We have two children by the way. Our oldest son is twenty-two and he attends state university. Our youngest is Yujin, our nineteen year old daughter; who attends local community college. She decided the first two years were basic education and she could just as easily get it at community college as she could at university; and at half the cost. Leave it to Yujin to be logical about these things.
Anyway, back to where I was. Things were beginning to warm up, when Dara started in about me not being 'into it'. She wanted me to be more assertive and more verbal; I just wanted to enjoy the sensations. It was our usual disagreement.
Of course it didn't help when I gave a smart remark about fucking her tight wet cunt; Dara can be rather reserved about some things. Needless to say things deteriorated down from there, ending when Dara turned on her side in a huff; calling off our little tryst.
The next morning I tried to apologize and be more romantic; but the damage was done. Dara commented about how she was tired she was the only putting anything into our lovemaking; then off to the mall she went in a huff.
Being a Saturday morning, I headed to my office; I figured I could get some work done since getting my blue balls off didn't seem to be on the agenda.
My office used to be our sons bedroom, I had converted it when he entered his second year at university and it was evident he had no plans on returning. I settled in my chair and flipped on my computer, I could hear Yujin's music rumbling through the wall since her bedroom was right beside the office.
I sat waiting for the system to boot up my mind wandering. Like all men, I have fantasies, and one of them was recurring. To just once have a partner to go through the entire act with and never say a word. Too just know what each other wanted, and to do it; no directions, no reminders; just synchronized sex.
It startled me when I realized someone was standing beside my chair. I swiveled slightly and found Yujin standing there staring at me. How to describe Yujin? Would you call her willowy? Not really I would have to say.
She took more after her maternal grandmother than either her mom or I. Like Grandma Nora she barely stood over five feet tall, and I bet the girl weighed a whopping hundred pounds at best. Her size belied her strength, which could be seen in those tanned and tones legs; strengthened from four years of volleyball and girls soccer.
The same legs that were on display right now as she stood by my chair in her night shirt, which barely ended below her ass. But it wasn't her ass my eyes landed on when I turned. I would say Yujin's breasts were probably a 34C; which you might consider normal for most women, but when you put them on that small frame, it made them look huge.
At that moment I was staring right at them, as two points pressed against the fabric of her night shirt. I didn't usually perv over my daughters breasts, but when they are eye level it's kind of hard not to.
I pulled my eyes away from what I knew were her braless breasts and looked up. Yujin has long auburn hair that she usually keeps in a ponytail. When she lets it hang loose like she was this morning, it falls in waves to frame her face, and what I consider to be one of her best features. Those big brown doe like eyes that looked at me now.
I stared up at her, wondering how much this was going to cost me this time. Let's be real, Yujin is a teenage girl; and if she could get away with it she would max out my credit cards.
I sat in dumb shock as Yujin reached down and gripped the armrests of my chair, finishing my turn until I faced her. Then, without uttering a word, she began to climb onto my lap.
Let me say here that my office chair is not what you think. When you spend as much time as I do sitting in it; you tend to get the one you like. My chair had bigger armrests for me to lean on; ones Yujin used quite well as she levered herself up. The seat was a bit wider than most, allowing me to shift around. Yujin used that width as she slid her slender legs along the outside of mine, straddling me.
The whole motion caught me so off guard I was totally mute. Yujin had never been the clinging 'sit on daddy's lap' kind of girl. Oh she was loving and affectionate, but never like this.
Yujin positioned herself and I realized she wasn't climbing into my lap; she had climbed ONTO my lap. MY eyes must have enlarged to double their size as my nineteen year old daughter lowered herself onto my lap.
That tight night shirt slid up those tanned thighs until the edge of her panties peeked out. I felt pure heat descend and then press into my groin. I have news guys; I challenge any male out there to tell me what would happen if a nubile nineteen your old suddenly pressed her heated sex down onto his bulge. You got it; my cock reared its lions head in mere seconds.
I saw the hint of a smile cross Yujin's face as she felt that growing bulge under her. I opened my mouth to ask her what the hell she was doing. Suddenly one hand shot up from the arm rest and two soft fingers tapped at my lips, her head shaking no.
I closed my mouth, and damn near groaned when she gripped the arms again, and began to slowly grind her body into me. I stared into her large brown eyes as that hint of a smile returned when she felt me pulse under her.
That was quickly replaced by a glassy look as she shifted her hips, sliding those panty covered lips up and then back down my now huge bulge.
I couldn't help it, I just couldn't. My hands lifted from the arm rests, my hands slipping around her trim waist; and I pulled her harder onto me.
I felt her shudder at the increased contact, and her head came down to rest on my shoulder. Dear God she had just given me the green light to dry hump her wet pussy.
Before I knew what I was doing, my hands slipped around her waist and I gripped the firmest ass I had held in my hands in over twenty years. I felt her teeth softly graze my neck, her silent acknowledgement to continue.
I picked up the pace, my hips pressing up into her; my bulge pressing into the crease of her panties. The sheer intensity and the suddenness coupled to bring me to the edge much faster than I really wanted. I wanted to cum so badly it hurt, but I wanted HER to cum also.
Then the flood gates opened; I felt her body twitch as her hard nipples pressed into my chest.
"Nnnngggggggg" she gave a small groan as her belly erupted.
Yujin was cumming; and she was cumming on MY cock. I lost it. With a grunt I pushed my hips up, my balls spasming. I felt a gush of hot cum pump into my briefs as Yujin trembled on my lap.
Yujin raised her head and her eyes stared deep into mine as I felt her shudder on me a second time; I could feel the rise in the wetness and heat pressed against my groin as she soaked through her panties.
I watched her as my cock pulsed a second and then third time as I literally flooded my briefs; God I hadn't cum this hard in years. That small smiled swept across her lips as I released my frustrations.
Reluctantly I released her ass as she slid from my lap, standing in front of me. Just as her night shirt slid back into place, my eyes glanced down and I caught the vision of her dark cream stained panties molded to her swollen lips.
Yujin leaned down and lightly pressed her lips to mine. I could only sit and watch, basking in the after-glow as she silently walked from my office. I wanted to get up and march to her room and demand she explain what the hell had just happened. But then I thought, what do I ask? How do you ask your daughter why she just rubbed one out on your hard cock? Of course, that would mean I would have to explain my hard cock; or worse, my orgasm.
Later that night, after the house had grown quiet; I rolled onto my side on the bed, and slowly slid my hand up my wife's bare thigh. I had been in an almost constant state of horniness since that morning, and now was the perfect time to release it.
Surprisingly Dara was elated at my sudden aggression, as I told her in a hushed voice exactly what I wanted to do to her body. Things were way past getting hot and heavy, when my hormonal brain short circuited and I did the unthinkable; I asked my wife for a blowjob.
Now I have to say, don't be too hard on Dara; she grew up in a very conservative home. It had taken me a few years just to convince her sex was more than procreation. It had been the work of two decades just to get here to admit she enjoyed fucking.
Unfortunately there were still a few things on her 'dirty' list. Anal sex was an absolute no-no; and any kind of oral was something only whores did, not good wives.
At first I tried to push the idea; come on it was just a simple blowjob. Then I tried to back pedal, but the damage had been done. The mood evaporated faster than if the pope had walked in the room.
Dara turned and fell asleep, still muttering about the indecency of men. I tried to go to sleep; but my aching balls were just too insistent. Slipping out of bed, I looked down at Dara, listening to her even breathing, and with a sigh headed down to my office.
Because we had been just about to have sex, I wasn't wearing my usual pajama pants, so I slipped on my robe and padded down the hall. In my chair I flipped on the monitor and pulled up the internet.
I should say that Dara was also death on porn and masturbating; if she had any idea of what I was doing; she would have flipped a cork. But, unlike her it was hard for me to just turn that switch off.
Pulling up one of my favorite sites, I spent a little while on MILF's and then watched a nice hot gangbang; but oral sex was still occupying my mind. I pulled up a blowjob compilation and settled into my chair.
I hadn't been at it more than ten minutes, and there she was again. My first realization was when she gently tugged on the back of my office chair, pulling me back slightly from the screen.
I watched as Yujin silently slid around my chair to stand between me and the computer screen. Her night shirt this time was different. It was one of her outsized ones and it hung on her small frame like a loose sack. I admit I was a bit disappointed to not see the curve of her breasts.
Considering what we had done earlier in the day, it seemed to be a moot point I was sitting there with my robe open and my hard cock gripped in my fist.
Sometimes things work in ways you never plan, it happened then. Yujin turned and looked at the screen behind her; just as a young brunette swallowed the hard cock of a man who had to be at least twice her age. I didn't plan it that way I swear; it was just one of the scenes from the compilation.
When Yujin turned back to me she had a smoldering look in her eyes; I almost choked as I watched her silently kneel between my spread thighs. I felt my hand brushed aside and then slender fingers wrap around my cock; as if in a daze I sat there and watched as she leaned in and planted a soft wet kiss on the tip of my cock. I shuddered and tried not to blow my load right then.
Her doe like brown eyes look up at me, her delicate mouth opened; and Yujin leaned in and swallowed my cock. Now I'm not hung like a porn star, but I am respectable seven or so inches; so don't get me wrong.
And this teenage nymph didn't suck me in; she literally swallowed me to the damn root. I wanted to scream at how wrong this was, to tell her to stop. What did I do? I reached down and locked my fingers in her dark auburn hair, and surrendered to the sensation.
I couldn't tear my eyes away as her mouth began to bob up and down, sliding along the full length of my shaft. Her eyes never left mine as I heard the most obscene sucking sounds. It was a vision hotter than any porn scene I had ever seen.
Yujin cupped my balls, gently massaging them; I couldn't suppress the small groan that passed my lips. Her eyes twinkled with that smoldering look; and fuck if she didn't pick up the pace.
I was lost, totally lost. My hips began to pump up as I fucked into her hot mouth. I watched her cheeks puff out as she slid down; then felt those pursed lips along my shaft as she pulled back. I had asked for a blowjob, and I was getting the hottest one of my life; from my daughter.
My breathing was hot and ragged, echoing in my office; as the wet sounds of Yujin's mouth blended with it. Popping my throbbing cock out of her mouth, she tilted and lowered her head, sucking in my sensitive balls.
As her small hand slid up and down my slick stalk, I lifted my ass straight off the chair. Holy fuck did this girl know how to blow a guy. For a brief moment dad kicked in and I wondered where she had gotten so good at this; then the raging male took hold as my balls began to tighten.
Yujin felt my cock throb in her grip, and my balls pull tighter. Her mouth released my boiling sac and slammed back over the crowned head of my cock. Once again her doe like eyes locked to mine, watching my face…waiting.
I didn't even realize I had been holding my breath; as with a huge expulsion of air my nuts blew. I saw my cock jerk in her grip, and she never moved her mouth as the first blast of my molten cream filled her mouth.
"Mmmmmmmmmm" I heard her hum as she began to swallow my hot load.
It was the first sound I had heard her make; and between her hum of approval, and the vibration; I shot a second thick wad down her throat. This little nineteen year old hussy; my loving daughter Yujin; knelt between my lewdly spread thighs and took every hot drop I had.
If it hadn't been for the fact I had watched the whole thing I would never have believed it. I felt her hot mouth slowly pull off my now softening cock. Rising to her feet in front of me, I watched her reach up with one slender finger and scoop up the trickle of thick cum that had oozed from the corner of her mouth. With a wonderfully wicked smile, she slid that cum covered finger into her mouth, and sucked it clean.
I was beside myself with lust; I had never wanted someone as badly as I wanted Yujin at that moment. I leaned forward and slid my hands up those smooth thighs. She held perfectly still as my fingers found the elastic edge of her panties, and slowly pulled them down.
Yujin stepped out of the flimsy cloth, and as she watched I brought the moist warm material to my face, inhaling deeply of her scent. It was as if she knew; as she slowly slid back onto the edge of my desk, sliding her loose night shirt upward.
I stared as more of her flesh came into view; and then my eyes locked on the smooth bare lips. They were swollen with desire, and glistened with her juices; it drove me crazy to realize this was making her as hot as it was me.
Reaching up I gripped those firm thighs, opening them further, watching the petal open and her pink interior open for me. I could have kissed my way to her, or even teased her by licking; it was too late.
Just like Yujin had done, I scooted forward in my chair, and drove my head been her thighs. Her entire body spasmed in my grip as my tongue sliced between those open lips and probed deep inside her.
I felt her thighs rise slightly, pressing against the sides of my head; her small hands reaching down to grip the back of my head. She tugged at the back of my head, grinding my mouth into her. I felt her clit against the bridge of my nose and I pushed into her.
I sucked her warm cream into my mouth, and then teased along her lips. I felt her shudder as the fat of my tongue slid across her throbbing clit.
Yujin tugged at the hair on the back of my head, tilting my head upward. My eyes slid up her belly, and across her now bare breasts. God, when did she take off her night shirt?
My eyes locked with hers, large brown saucers staring down at me; with a burning lust lighting her face. I sucked in on her clit, and then bit it lightly with my teeth. Her eyes fluttered but never left my face.
Reaching down one hand, she took mine in hers. Lifting our hands, she placed the flat of my palm against her firm round breast. I have to tell you that Dara has beautiful breasts, and I love giving them the special attention they deserve; but God help me there is something about the breasts of a nineteen year old.
They stand proud out from her tiny body, firm and full; yet are pliant and soft when you knead them. The nipples are puffy and swollen with desire with dark areoles that crinkle under your touch.
As I sat there, staring into her eyes, I felt and saw every signal her body gave. Her nipple hardened like small rock under my palm; I felt her thighs begin to quiver against my cheeks. Her fingers at the back of my head curled like talons as she gripped me tighter.
I silently lifted my other hand to between her thighs, hidden just under my chin and waited. I saw her eyelids flutter and knew; driving a single fat finger between her swollen lips and deep into her.
"Daddy" a soft whisper escaped her lips.
Yujin's eyes popped open wide in surprise as she felt her tight walls stretched; her body gave a violent jerk and I watched the muscles in her belly flex. Her eyes never left mine as a hot gush of fluids filled my mouth.
I sat there and drank deeply of my daughters' sweet cream as she watched. When the second gush washed out of her, I deliberately let it soak into my face and drip down my chin; reveling in her smell.
I could feel her body start to slowly settle onto the desk as her orgasm ebbed. I pulled my face from between her thighs, running my tongue over my lips. Yujin released my head and as she pulled her hand back, her finger traced along my glistening cheek.
I watched shock as she raised that wet finger to her own lips, and as I stared at her, licked the juices clean. God damn she was going to be the death of me.
I eased back into my chair as Yujin slipped from the desk. Silently she reached down and retrieved the discarded panties. Instead of slipping them back on, she bent slightly and drew the wadded cloth along her soaked pussy.
With the most satisfied smile I had ever seen on her face, she turned and deposited the now soaked cloth onto my desk next to my keyboard. Leaning down her soft lips once again brushed mine.
I watched her tanned legs as she walked from my office; and when I glanced at the clock I realized we had been in here for almost an hour. The entire time only one word had been spoken; when she whispered daddy.
Rising from my chair I headed back to the master bedroom, I slipped into the bathroom and used a warm washcloth to rinse my face. Sliding into bed, I could hear Dara's soft breathing. For the first time in I couldn't remember how long I drifted into a sated sleep.
For the next week Yujin and I basically lived a normal life. It wasn't that we were avoiding each other; but just between her school schedule and my work; nothing ever connected. Thursday Dara finally forgave me, and we enjoyed a nice romp in bed that night.
Like I said before, sex with Dara was good; she is a very passionate and sexy woman. But I had to admit to myself, that even after I had filled her full of hot cream; there was a gaping difference between her and Yujin.
While Dara was passionate and verbal as always; there was a level of intensity that had come with the silence I shared with Yujin. As I lay there in the dark, hearing Dara's soft breathing, I thought about what would happen between Yujin and I. I knew things had crossed the line long ago; I just wasn't sure how far things would actually go.
It shouldn't come as a surprise when it wasn't Yujin that instigated the next time; it was more Dara than anything. That Sunday evening, when I thought Yujin was with friends, I snuck up behind Dara in the kitchen while she was preparing dinner.
I wrapped my arms around her body, my hands cupping her full breasts. My lips kissed along her neck as I pressed into her ass from behind.
"Not now" my wife said sharply.
I tried to entice her with soft words as I squeezed her soft breasts. I was startled when she reached up and gently removed my hands.
"It's not bedtime" she reprimanded me. "Besides we just did it the other day, your insatiable." Her words hit home.
The other day, Jesus Christ that was three days ago, is more than once a week too much? We used to have sex every couple of days. What really hit hard was Dara's next comment.
"I did it for you Thursday, why do you need it so often?" she asked.
My hands dropped to my side and I backed up. I tried to say something about when two people are in love; but the same comments about love and sex being totally different came back at me.
I just wasn't up to a fight right then; so with a raging hard cock, I left the kitchen. I figured head to my office and back to the usual. I knew Dara would be in the kitchen cooking for at least an hour; and she would think I was working. Time for the usual porn release I reasoned.
Just when I reached the door to my office, instead I kept walking; and to this day I could not tell you why. I actually thought Yujin wasn't home, so I really had no reason to approach her bedroom door.
I admit to being surprised when I saw Yujin in her room, standing at her dresser. She was layering on her lipstick as she looked in the mirror. She was wearing a spaghetti strap top that gave off the fact she wasn't wearing a bra as her pert breasts pushed at the tight thin cloth.
Worse was the tight denim skirt she was wearing. The damn thing barely went below her ass cheeks, showcasing her tanned lean legs. The curve of her ass just screamed for my hands.
Silently I stepped into her room and pulled the door shut behind me. I knew she heard the sound, and her eyes flickered across me through the mirror. Her eyes went lower and I knew she could see the state I was in, let's be real you can't exactly hide more than seven inches of hard cock in shorts even if they are khaki's.
Looking back up into my eyes, I saw a smile spread over those glossed lips. Yujin lowered the lipstick tube to the dresser, and then watched my face as she bent down and slid her panties down from under that skirt.
Reaching back she gripped the hem of that short skirt, and then inch by inch slid it higher. God those perfect firm ass cheeks came into view as she slid her skirt up around her waist.
Leaning forward, Yujin gripped the edge of the dresser, and then slowly thrust that beautiful ass out at me.
I looked into the mirror and saw her smoldering eyes watching me, inviting me. I could tell by the glint of her eyes in the mirror she was waiting. She had offered and now the rest was entirely up to me.
Without even a thought of the woman downstairs, I stepped up behind her. My fingers unsnapped my shorts, and pulled both my shorts and briefs down until they joined her panties on the floor.
My cock was so hard it stood out straight like a thick pole from my body. It felt like I could cut diamonds with it, it was so hard. Wearing what had to be at least three or four inch heels, it gave Yujin a slightly higher position than normal. I caught movement as she slowly spread her feet apart.
If that wasn't an invitation, I didn't know what the hell was. I stepped closer and reached down; gripping my cock I aimed the swollen head at her wet hole. When I had nestled the fat head between those soggy lips, I looked up into her eyes in the mirror.
An almost imperceptible nod of Yujin's head was all it took. I reached down and gripped that oh so slim waist, and I pushed forward. Just like the last time we were together like this, our eyes stayed locked in the mirror; I couldn't have torn mine away if I had wanted to.
Tight was not the word as my fat head pushed against her wet lips Her fresh young pussy was resisting the invasion, until I flexed my knees and aimed a bit straighter; and then it happened.
"Ooohhhhhh" Yujin moaned softly as the head slipped inside.
"Godddddd" I hissed in a low voice as a hot velvet vise gripped my cock head.
It was done; we had crossed the last line. I stood in my daughters' bedroom, while my wife prepared dinner; and began to push every inch of my dick into her nineteen year old body.
While part of my brain registered how wrong this was; the nerve fibers in my cock lit on fire as pure heat wrapped around me. I watched Yujin's eyes grow wide as I pushed again, I could feel her walls ripple as I slid my thick cock in.
Any thought this was one sided vanished when Yujin gripped the front edge of the dresser, and with a soft grunt shoved her ass back against me. The move sank close to six inches of my length inside her; close but not quite all and I wanted every inch in her.
For the first time I broke eye contact with her; looking down between our bodies I began to pull back. It was erotic; it was obscene and it was about the hottest thing I had ever witnessed. My thick cock started to slide out, and her pussy, so tightly wrapped around me, the lips stretched out and slid along my shaft.
I heard a soft sucking noise the room was so quiet. Juice glistened on my shaft as I saw for the first time just how wet she was. This wasn't just for me…Yujin WANTED this.
When just the crowned head rested inside her, I looked back into the mirror at Yujin's face. Gone was my innocent daughter; I stared into the feral eyes of a woman demanding to be fucked.
"Fuck" I grunted softly.
"Shit" Yujin gasped.
They weren't commands or even demands; but a unified expression of pleasure. At the same moment I gripped her hips and jammed forward again; Yujin gripped the edge of the dresser and shoved her firm ass back at me.
When my hips came to rest against her ass, and I realized my cock was buried to the root inside her; I lost control. I felt the first blast of hot cum tear out of my balls; it shot down the length of my cock and spewed into her tight cunt.
I saw a look of surprise cross her face in the mirror as she felt that increased pressure deep in her belly while I filled her. I knew she had to feel the heat, to know her father was pumping his seed into her.
She did; I watched as Yujin's eyes slowly rolled back in raw pleasure; her body trembled; and a hot gush of liquid fire soaked my cock and balls.
I couldn't believe I was cumming already; I hadn't cum this quickly since I was a teenager. Any doubts I had about what we were doing vanished as the second thick rope filled her. Yujin slid her body forward, and then reversed direction and literally slammed her ass back against me.
Her face was a mask of lust; flushed hot and glistening with sweat as she rocked, fucking herself on me. I just held still as Yujin used my body for her pleasure; I had never experienced this and the sensations were new and sweeping through me.
Yujin's walls gripped me tight as she impaled herself on me again and again. God I had never felt a woman so tight, so volcanic hot. If it hadn't been for the fact I hadn't encountered a hymen, I almost would have sworn she was a virgin.
Between those tight walls, and rippling muscles I was staring down at my cock, still steel hard and coated with the froth of our combined juices. If this had been Dara and I, we would have rolled over in bed and been asleep within moments. It was more than evident that even though her belly was full of my thick cum; Yujin was far from being done.
I gripped her slender hips and began to move my pelvis, matching her rhythm. The soft sound of flesh slapping blended with the heavy breathing in the air.
I could feel her walls starting to tighten around me again, God she was going to cum again. I leaned over her sweat slick back; and reaching around her slight form I gripped one of the breasts. I cupped and then kneaded the firm flesh; rolling that fat nipple between my fingers. I could feel her whole body begin to quiver as she climbed again.
I felt like a man possessed as I increased the pace again. My hips were now hammering into her small body as I took her. Yujin matched me blow for blow with her rocking hips. I felt her hot juices flowing like a river as I pounded into her. The hot smell of sex quickly filled the air as we rutted like two silent animals.
I could hear her nails drag across the top of the dresser, I knew she was perched right on the edge; but somehow was holding back. I looked up into the mirror and saw those large doe eyes staring back at me.
Yujin was past smoldering, not even lusty could describe what I saw. It was more primal, almost hungry as she stared at me. I felt my cock throb deep inside her; as that small smile crept onto her lips
Turning slightly, Yujin brought one hand back to rest on my chest; God it looked so tiny compared to my broad chest. I stared back into the mirror as her hand slid down my chest, her fingers finding my rock hard nipple and she gripped it.
Yujin just held still, staring…waiting. Wet sucking now filled the room as my cock sliced in and out of her. I don't know what signal I gave; there must have been one. Just as my nuts hit critical, her fingers gave a violent twist.
I felt a burning pain rocket down my chest at almost the same instant as my balls spasmed; it felt like a bomb went off in my entire groin. I wanted to scream but the sheer shock overwhelmed me; where the hell had she learned THAT?
Almost against my will I rammed my hips forward, pinning her small frame against the dresser as I drove my cock deep; and God do I mean deep. I actually felt the swollen tip of my cock press into the spongy surface of her cervix as every inch rammed into her tiny body.
"Yujin" I gasped.
My balls jerked…my cock jerked…my entire body spasmed; as the first volley of hot seed erupted and washed the opening of her womb. I leaned into her more, her breasts mashed against the cool wood as I emptied every fucking drop I had.
"Daddy" Yujin gave a soft whine.
If my head hadn't been pressed against hers I probably would have never heard her. It sent a shiver down my spine; it wasn't just passion or lust, but the whine of total surrender as she accepted my seed into her belly.
You know how when you are sick, and when you throw up so hard you swear your shoes or socks would come out of your mouth. That was the only thing I could think of for how violently I came. I wouldn't have been surprised in the least if my balls would have shot out the end of my dick.
I poured so much spunk into my daughter's slim body; I felt a glob ooze out around my thick cock and heard it splatter to the floor between her spread feet. Through it all Yujin watched my eyes, silently accepting my load with that sultry smile.
I eased up on her trapped body, still trying to catch my breath. Yujin simply watched me in the mirror as I slowly pulled out my finally softening cock.
As I pulled totally free, Yujin finally moved. Bending down she retrieved her cast aside panties. I stood and pulled my brief's and shorts back into place as she stepped into her panties and then drew them up her hips. I could actually see a wet spot form on the gusset as another thick wad of mixed cream tried to escape.
Yujin patted the thin cloth as if she were trying to tell that sticky slime to stay inside. She stood on her tip toes to reach and softly kissed me on the lips. As she settled her skirt back into place, there was only one thing I could do. Silently I turned and walked from her room and back down to the kitchen.
Dara had just set the table as I arrived, and I couldn't help but notice there were only two plates. I started to ask why when I heard Yujin's lilting voice coming from the front door.
"I should be back about eleven" Yujin called out as I heard the front door close behind her.
"Is Yujin going out?" I asked; trying to keep my voice steady.
"She said something about a music festival and a couple of friend's" Dara said dismissively.
I settled at the table, trying to reconcile in my brain that what I had thought was my sweet innocent Yujin, was heading out with friends; with her belly full of my hot cream.
The sheer nastiness sent a shiver down my back. Though what we had shared had been by far the most intense sex I had ever experienced; I resolved that the two of us needed to have a talk. Both about what was happening and why; and also where things were going between us.
At this point I have to admit things were so damned hot with Yujin, I honestly didn't have a lot of guilt as far as Dara was concerned. We still had sex now and then; which seemed to fit her preferences just fine.
I kept meaning to ask Yujin, to pull her aside and have a hard talk; but it never quite worked out. Every time we did find alone time; hardly a single word was exchanged, as I fucked her like a madman. Each time was totally unplanned, and hotter than the one before.
On one occasion I was under her car in the garage, on a creeper; for those that don't know you lie on your back and roll under the car on it. I was just draining her oil, when I felt a pair of small hands undo the belt and front of my jeans. I just lay there gasping as this nineteen year old vixen drained my balls. I came so hard I almost smacked my head on the underside of her car.
One of the hottest was when Yujin talked with her mother through the open kitchen window, while I pounded her from behind. They had been sunning in the backyard together, and seeing that firm tight ass in a bright yellow bikini was too much for my hormones.
When Dara asked if she was coming back out, Yujin's comment about coming any moment; followed by a hot gush of pussy juice over my cock; let's just say I rivaled a volcano I blew so hard.
The one time that I did manage to corner her was the last time she headed out with her friends; this time the scent of my thick cum was fresh on her breath; the girl was driving me crazy.
When I asked her how far things were going between us, she just gave a sultry smile. When I pressed about what we were doing was not only immoral but illegal, she gave a soft laugh.
"I like to fuck daddy, and so do you; so what's the problem?" she shot back at me.
When I asked about her mother, that was when she turned those smoldering eyes on me.
"Don't sweat it dad" she whispered after she softly kissed me.
But I did sweat it; at least for three days; and then everything came to a head. The world of Dara and I collided head on with the world of Yujin and I; in a way I never saw coming.
It was Monday and I had been at a build site that morning. The weather turned shitty so we called it a day by early afternoon. I knew it wasn't my normal time to head home, but I just wasn't in the mood to return to the office for a mere hour and a half.
I pulled in the driveway, cut the car engine and headed through the front door. Just as I closed the front door I froze.
"OH fuck yes eat me baby" rolled out from upstairs.
I felt my blood rage through me. Who the FUCK was she with? OK, I was not the person who had any right to be jealous; but just the idea of some guy banging Dara sent me right for the stairs.
I didn't give a shit about being quiet as I bounded up the stairs; but I really didn't have to.
"Yes…yes…right there…" I heard Dara's usual verbal encouragement.
I hit the door to the bedroom like a charging bull, and literally froze on the spot. I had missed something; something VERY important. I had heard how Dara had cried out, what I hadn't thought through was WHAT she had cried out.
There, in the middle of our king sized bed, naked as the day she was born; my wife withered and squirmed through her orgasm. I could only stare as the face of my innocent daughter rose from between her mother's quivering thighs and looked over at me.
Jesus, Dara's juices dripped from her chin; and glistened on her face. Yujin opened her mouth, letting me see the pool of her mothers' cream she had sucked out. All the blood rage in me immediately dropped south of my belt.
I know for a lot of guys out there, the idea or sight of two women in a Sapphic embrace is not their thing. Sorry guys, for me erotic and hot just don't do the sight justice. I went from limp dick to raging hard from zero to three seconds.
"Don't stop…oh God baby more…" Dara moaned out. "Yessssssss" I heard her groan as Yujin's head descended back between her mother's thighs.
Dara, verbal as ever, rambled on as our daughter noisily sucked her juices out.
"Eat me…oh fuck yes…eat that cunt baby…" Dara babbled.
"Right there…oh yes…harder baby…oh FUCK!" Dara yelled as her hips jerked.
Dara was oblivious to her surroundings as Yujin sucked her clit and fucked her with her tongue. I watched two slender fingers delve deep inside Dara's pussy as Yujin started to finger her.
"God fuck me…oh shit yes…fuck me…" Dara grunted.
OK, I'm a base animal; guilty as charged. I had my shirt off in a flash and had undone my pants when Yujin tilted her head to look back at me. I could see her eyes sparkle as my rock hard cock popped out of my briefs and into view.
Yujin watched me finish stripping, and then simply nodded towards her upraised ass where she knelt between Dara's vibrating thighs. It was all the invitation I needed. Silently I stepped up to the edge of the bed, aiming I sank into Yujin in one thrust.
God it was like sliding through scalding hot butter as my cock filled her. She was dripping wet from her mother, and I was so fucking horny at this point; nothing went past her tight teenage pussy.
Yujin's head snapped up and she stared back at me with smoldering eyes. She leaned forward and then drove her ass back hard into my cock, sending it deeper into her than ever before.
That was my signal, reaching down I gripped her slender hips, and started pounding. I could hear her slurping as her face plowed between her mother's thighs. My cock was squeezed by those tight hot walls as I drove in and out.
This was not love making, this was primal, down in the gutter, fucking. I couldn't see what she was doing to her mother, but whatever it was, it was driving Dara insane.
I listened to my wife whimper and moan as our innocent nineteen year old daughter feasted on her. I picked up the pace, hammering into Yujin as I listened to Dara begin what I knew was her pre-orgasm tirade.
"That's so good baby girl" Dara moaned. "Eat momma of fuck…suck my clit…shove those fingers deep baby…" she babbled.
Then, the most amazing thing happened; Yujin pulled her head free of her mother's clenching thighs. She stared back at me with juices dripping down her chin. I could feel her walls tightening around my thick cock; I could tell she was getting close herself.
I shifted forward as Yujin leaned up her mothers' body; I could see her pert tits sliding across her mothers' as she slid up. When her face was even with Dara's; my silent lover put the final touches to her mother.
"You like that mommy" I heard her say in a little girl voice. "You like your little girls fingers buried in your cunt?"
"Yes…God help me yes" I heard Dara pant.
"My little mommy slut" Yujin's voice drove into Dara. "Letting her teenage daughter eat her wet pussy" her voice dripped with lust.
God she was driving Dara insane, I could tell by the moaning that was now constant. I could feel the tension building in my balls as I listened.
"I'd eat your pussy…with daddy's cock buried inside you" Yujin almost hissed down at her mother. "I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you mommy slut." her voice egging Dara higher.
"Oh God…Yujin…what you doing…" Dara grunted as her hips jerked.
I don't know if Dara believed it was actually happening, or if she thought Yujin was just talking; but at that moment a hot velvet glove gripped my cock. I felt hot cream pump out around my shaft, and I knew it was dripping down my daughter's thighs.
"Cumming…daddy's…" that was as far as Dara got when a deep gurgling noise came from her throat.
Dara was cumming, and hard, it had been years since I had heard that reaction from her. The fact she was cumming on her daughter's fingers; while her daughter spewed hot pussy cream all over me; was too much.
I gritted my teeth, trying not to moan or scream out. I felt my cock jerk deep inside Yujin. My daughter looked over her shoulder at me, and that sultry smile played on her lips as I filled her tight pussy with my cream.
Drained completely, I pulled my hips back; and with a soft sucking noise slid free of Yujin. I looked down and could see my thick white cum clinging to her pouty lips; I knew she had to be filled totally after that load.
I staggered back and retrieved my cast aside clothes, I looked up and Yujin was watching me silently. I started to head for the door to the bedroom, Dara had not discovered me here yet, and I wanted it to stay that way for now.
Just as I reached the bedroom door, I looked back at the pair. I watched amazed, as Yujin straddled her mother's head, and slowly lowered her cum filled pussy onto her mother's face.
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.
Leeseo always loved a dangerous game: the art of being watched. She wasn't some mastermind with a grand plan; she just lived for the rush of knowing she was getting under people's skin without saying a word. For her, clothes weren't just outfits—they were tools of power. That day, as she got ready for a sleepover at Eunchae’s, she picked an outfit that played with that exact vibe. She wore a short pleated skirt that barely covered anything and a tiny g-string that dug into her crack with every step. On top, she threw on an oversized cardigan to look fragile—a "good girl" mask to hide the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra under her thin white tee.
The taxi ride was the perfect warmup. Leeseo sat in the back, staring out the window with a dreamy expression, enjoying the fact that the driver kept checking her out in the rearview mirror.
"Visiting a friend, right, sweetie?" the driver asked in a fatherly tone, though his eyes never left her legs.
Leeseo let out a cute little giggle, leaning toward him and resting her chin on her hand, playing the part of an innocent kid. "Yes, sir. Eunchae invited me for a sleepover. We're so excited," she replied in that melodic voice that makes any man drop his guard.
The driver smiled, convinced he was hauling some innocent girl. But when they reached the address, Leeseo decided to have some fun before getting out. When it came time to pay, she didn't just hand him the money; she leaned forward slowly and deliberately, invading his space.
"Here you go, thanks for the ride," she whispered, locking eyes with him. As she stretched, she let the collar of her white shirt slip completely. Without a bra, her breasts were right there in plain sight. The driver went mute, hypnotized by her skin and the tips of her nipples pressing against the thin fabric. Leeseo heard him swallow hard and felt a spark of pleasure seeing him completely thrown off.
But the finale was the best part. As she opened the door to leave, she didn't just jump out. She leaned against the car frame and arched her back hard, letting the short skirt ride up dangerously. She stayed like that for a few seconds, giving the driver a perfect view of her ass and the string of her thong disappearing between her cheeks.
"Have a great day, sir," she tossed a glance over her shoulder before slamming the door shut, leaving him frustrated and hard.
Now she was in front of the house. She adjusted her oversized cardigan, putting her "fragile" disguise back on. When Eunchae opened the door with a scream and a huge hug, Leeseo let herself be swept up in her friend's excitement.
"Leeseo! You're here!" Eunchae exclaimed. "Come in quick, my dad is in the living room and wants to say hi."
Leeseo followed her inside, chatting away like a normal teenager, until she stepped into the living room. And then, she saw him.
Eunchae’s father was standing by the sofa. He was an imposing man—broad shoulders and a stern look that screamed authority. He wore a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off strong forearms with veins popping under tanned skin. The moment their eyes met, something happened inside Leeseo. It wasn't a planned thought; it was a violent biological reaction. She felt an electric shock shoot down her spine and a sudden spasm in her stomach that left her breathless.
Suddenly, desire hit her like a wave. This man wasn't just her friend's dad; he was mature, powerful, and he woke up an animal hunger in her she didn't know she had. Her pupils dilated and she felt her thong get wet instantly from the anticipation.
"Hello... it's a pleasure to meet you, sir," she whispered, lowering her gaze in a submissive bow. As she leaned, that instinct to provoke returned, but now with a much better target. She deliberately let the cardigan slide off her left shoulder, exposing her collarbone and the top edge of one breast, teasing the limit of his vision.
Leeseo didn't look up, but she could feel the father's gaze anchored to her bare skin. The silence became suffocating; a void filled only by the sound of the man’s held breath and Leeseo’s heart hammering against her ribs. When she finally looked up, her eyes were misty and her lips slightly parted.
"I hope I'm not a bother by staying here," she murmured in a tiny voice.
The man didn't answer right away. He swallowed hard—a visceral gesture that showed his composure had just cracked for the first time. Leeseo smiled inwardly. It wasn't just about being watched anymore; now she wanted this man, and she knew exactly how to get him.
The air in the room felt thick. Leeseo could tell he was still staring at her even when they weren't face-to-face. Eunchae, completely clueless about the short circuit her friend had just caused, started talking about weekend plans, dragging Leeseo toward the kitchen while her father followed a few steps behind, his heavy presence absorbing all the oxygen in the room.
"I'm starving! Dad, can we order pizza or should we make something quick?" Eunchae asked, opening the fridge with enthusiasm.
Leeseo leaned against the cold granite counter, watching the man out of the corner of her eye. He didn't speak; he just nodded slightly while keeping a safe distance, but his eyes kept scanning Leeseo’s silhouette. She noticed how he avoided looking at her face, preferring to focus on the movement of her hips or the way her cardigan opened slightly every time she breathed.
"I can help with the glasses," Leeseo murmured in that soft, vulnerable tone. "Where are they?"
"In the lower cabinet, next to the oven," he replied. His voice sounded raspier than before, like his throat was dry.
Leeseo headed for the cabinet. She knew exactly where he was standing; she could feel the heat radiating from his body right behind her. Instead of crouching naturally, Leeseo did it with torturous slowness. She didn't bend her knees; she lowered her torso while keeping her legs straight, letting the short pleated skirt ride up dangerously.
She felt the cold kitchen air hit her cheeks and knew—by the sudden silence and the erratic breathing behind her—that the man had a perfect view of her ass. The string of her thong, buried in her skin, was now the center of attention for this mature man. Leeseo stayed there, pretending to struggle with the glasses, slightly swaying her hips so the fabric of the skirt brushed her thighs and revealed more skin than necessary.
"I can't find them... they're too far back," she whispered, letting out a small moan of frustration that sounded more like an invitation than a complaint.
Then, Leeseo faked a trip. As she tried to stand up, she let her body stumble backward, deliberately slamming into the man's chest. The impact was dull and visceral (clap). She felt the hardness of his pectoral muscles and the searing heat through his dark shirt. Leeseo didn't pull away immediately; she stayed there, pressed against him a second longer than necessary, feeling his heart hammering violently against her own ribs.
"Sorry... I'm so clumsy," she murmured, looking up at him. As she did, she tilted her head back, exposing the line of her neck and letting the cardigan open fully. Her breasts, free from a bra, pressed against the man's chest due to the proximity, and she felt the exact friction of her white shirt against his. She saw his pupils dilate and noticed how his large, strong hands were shaking slightly as he tried not to touch her, clenching his fists to contain the animal impulse to grab her right there.
"Be more careful, Leeseo," he said, though his voice was barely a raspy thread—a plea disguised as a warning.
"I just get nervous in new houses..." she replied with a small, malicious smile, her eyes glowing with hunger. "Do you think I'm too distracted?"
The man didn't answer. He couldn't. He was trapped in a storm of desire and guilt, while Leeseo looked up at him, knowing that every "accidental" touch was destroying the last bit of willpower he had left.
"Hey! Did you guys fall asleep back there?" Eunchae yelled from the other side of the kitchen, breaking the bubble of tension.
Leeseo pulled away slowly, brushing her hip against his leg before stepping aside. She gave him a fleeting look—a spark of pure mischief that clearly said this was only the beginning. Eunchae's father stood there, breathing heavily, feeling a forbidden desire knotting in his crotch, while the "good girl" went back to smiling at her daughter with terrifying innocence.
The tension in the house was no longer a silent secret; it had become a physical presence floating between Leeseo and the father like a thick fog. After the kitchen incident, the man seemed to be on high alert, avoiding direct eye contact, but his senses were hypersensitive. Every time Leeseo moved, he heard the rustle of her skirt and smelled the sweet, almost cloying perfume she radiated.
Eunchae had taken them back to the living room, where she flopped onto the sofa with her phone, absorbed in social media and gossiping about her classmates. Leeseo, however, didn't sit next to her. She stood near the table where Eunchae’s father was reviewing some papers, taking advantage of the lamp light that highlighted the tension in his shoulders and the firmness of his neck.
"Sir..." Leeseo called him with that tiny, silk-thread voice. "Could you help me with this? My phone is lagging and I don't know why."
The man looked up slowly. His eyes were bloodshot with a mix of frustration and contained lust.
"Sure, bring it here," he replied, though his voice sounded harsh, as if the words were hard to push out.
Leeseo didn't just hand him the phone. She walked toward him with a rhythmic sway of her hips that made the short skirt dance on her thighs. When she reached him, she didn't leave a single inch of personal space. She pressed against him, forcing him back slightly against the edge of the table.
"I don't get why it's doing this..." she murmured, bringing the screen close to his face. To do so, Leeseo leaned in so far that her shoulder brushed his arm and her breasts, without a bra, pressed softly against his side. She could feel the rigidity of his muscle under the shirt—an animal tension vibrating through every fiber of his body. Leeseo stayed there, suspended in that tiny gap, letting the heat of their bodies merge.
"You just have to restart the app..." he started to say, but his voice cracked.
Leeseo took her chance. She got closer until her lips were millimeters from his ear. She could feel the heat of his skin and the intense scent of tobacco and masculinity surrounding him.
"Do you do this often?" she whispered in his ear with a malice only he could perceive. "Do you usually help girls who don't know how to use their phones?"
The man let out a sharp gasp, a visceral sound that showed he had run out of air. His hands, holding the phone, shook visibly. Leeseo felt his breathing become erratic and heavy against her neck. She could tell he was fighting a brutal internal war; his knuckles were white from gripping the device, avoiding touching Leeseo’s bare skin at all costs, even though his instincts were screaming at him to grab her and slam her against the table.
"Leeseo... back up a bit," he growled, though he didn't move to push her away.
She let out a soft giggle that vibrated directly in his ear, and deliberately brushed her thigh against his leg while staying pressed to his side. She felt him tense up like a string about to snap.
"Why? Am I making you nervous, sir?" she asked, looking up at him with glowing eyes and parted lips, projecting the fragility she knew was her deadliest weapon.
In that moment, the man looked at her. It wasn't a look of protection or courtesy; it was hungry and raw, dropping quickly from her eyes to her lips and then down to the cleavage her cardigan could no longer hide. The desire in his pupils was so obvious that Leeseo felt an electric spark of pleasure between her legs; her thong felt wetter than ever, sticking to her skin as she imagined what would happen if he lost control right now.
"Hey, Leeseo! Look at this video, it's hilarious!" Eunchae yelled from the sofa, breaking the tension like shattering glass.
Leeseo pulled away with agonizing slowness, deliberately brushing her hip against his one last time. She turned to her friend with an angelic smile, while behind her, Eunchae's father leaned against the table, closing his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh, feeling his dick straining against his pants, tortured by a girl who played him like a toy.
Night fell over the house, wrapping it in a dimness interrupted only by the soft lamps and the blue glow of Eunchae's phone. The atmosphere had become suffocating; it wasn't just desire anymore, it was a war of nerves. They’d had a light dinner—a torturous process where Leeseo spent her time watching the man from across the table while he tried to focus on his food without being drawn, like a magnet, to the girl.
Now they were all in the living room. Eunchae was sunk into the sofa with headphones on, totally lost in a stream. Her father was sitting in his armchair, trying to read a book, but Leeseo knew he hadn't passed the same page in ten minutes.
Leeseo sat on the floor, leaning her back against the sofa, right at the man's feet. She settled in with agonizing slowness, crossing and uncrossing her legs, letting the short skirt ride up to expose the top of her smooth white thighs. She didn't look at him directly, but she knew exactly where his attention was. She knew he was fighting the urge to look down, but that he couldn't help it.
"It's hot in here, don't you think?" Leeseo murmured, breaking the silence with a voice that was pure velvet and poison.
The man looked away from the book. His eyes locked with hers, and for the first time, there was no trace of shyness in Leeseo’s gaze. She held it. It was a steady, heavy look, loaded with an intention so raw that the man felt a punch to the stomach. Leeseo gave him a tiny, almost imperceptible smile; not the smile of a good girl, but of someone who knows exactly which buttons to push to disarm a man.
Eunchae's father felt his throat tighten. Leeseo’s position on the floor, with her legs exposed and that cardigan hinting at the movement of her breasts every time she breathed, was psychological torture. He could feel his dick straining against the fabric of his pants—a dull, throbbing pain that made him feel dirty and desperately hungry at the same time.
Leeseo brought a hand to her neck, stroking her skin slowly while staying locked in the man's eyes. Suddenly, she leaned forward, pretending to reach for something on the floor, but she did it so that her chest almost brushed the adult's knees.
"Are you okay, sir? You're very quiet," she whispered, lowering her voice so only he could hear, her eyes glowing with predatory malice.
The man let out a shaky sigh, closing the book with a sharp thud (clap). He looked at her with a mix of anguish and animal lust. He was cornered in his own living room, with his daughter inches away, while a girl who looked like an angel was stripping him mentally with her gaze. The silence between them became electric; every second that passed without a word increased the pressure, turning the room into a pressure cooker about to blow.
"You should... you should go get some rest with Eunchae," he managed to say, though his voice came out raspy, almost like a growl.
Leeseo didn't move. Instead, she slid a few inches closer, entering the man's most intimate space. She looked up, and for an instant, let her lips part, letting out a hot sigh that seemed to caress his skin. In that moment, Leeseo wasn't a guest; she was a visual obsession consuming him alive.
"I'm not sleepy," she replied in a whisper full of double meaning. "I have other things on my mind..."
The man felt the world fade away. He no longer heard Eunchae’s music or saw his home. Only Leeseo existed: her scent of vanilla and sin, the whiteness of her legs, and that look telling him she was willing to do anything just to see him break. The psychological wear had reached its limit; he was no longer in control—he was a prisoner of forbidden desire, desperately waiting for the tension to finally explode into something physical and violent.
The living room lights were completely off, leaving only the flickering blue glow of the TV. They'd decided on a movie marathon, and the vibe was a dangerous mix of domestic comfort and suffocating lust. Eunchae was sprawled in the center of the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, half-asleep from the boring plot, but Leeseo wasn't there to rest. She had positioned herself at the end of the sofa, right next to Eunchae’s father, feeling his body heat radiate toward her like an oven.
Leeseo knew darkness was her best ally. In the dim light, boundaries blur and inhibitions fall. She started playing with her position, moving slowly, pretending she couldn't get comfortable. First, she stretched upward with a soft moan, arching her back so that the cardigan opened completely. Without a bra, her breasts lifted and tightened, nipples visible against the white fabric under the cold TV light.
She made an "accidental" move to reach the popcorn bowl on the coffee table, leaning forward with torturous slowness. In that instant, the short skirt rode up to the limit, exposing her white thighs and the top curve of her ass, where the thong string dug deep into her skin. Leeseo stayed there, suspended in that vulnerable position, feeling the man's breathing stop abruptly beside her.
"Ugh... this popcorn is too far away," she whispered, turning her face slightly toward him. Her lips were parted and her eyes, reflecting the screen, had a predatory glint.
Eunchae's father didn't respond. He was paralyzed, eyes glued to the view in front of him. He could see the tight skin of Leeseo’s thighs, the fragility of her back, and the volume of her breasts pressing against the fabric. For him, it was Chinese torture; he was sitting next to his friend's daughter, but felt like he was alone in a room with a woman who was stripping him with every "clumsy" move.
Leeseo sat back up, but didn't return to her original spot. She curled up, hugging her knees to her chest, which made the skirt ride up even more and compressed her breasts, highlighting their shape.
"Don't you like the movie, sir? You seem very distracted," she murmured, giving him a look full of malice.
The man swallowed hard (glup). His hands were clenched on his thighs, and he could feel his dick throbbing against his pants—a dull pain that made him shift restlessly in his seat. The tension was so high that Leeseo could hear the man's heavy breathing, an animal sound that sent an electric shock straight to her crotch.
Then, it happened. Leeseo moved once more, letting herself fall slightly to the side, resting her head on the back of the sofa and letting one leg hang, exposing the whiteness of her skin and the edge of her lace thong. It was a perfect angle—an image of purity broken by vulgar desire.
Driven by a hunger he could no longer reason with, Eunchae's father reacted instinctively. Without realizing what he was doing, he slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With a quick, almost desperate movement, he aimed the camera at the girl and pressed the button.
Click.
The sound was almost imperceptible over the movie audio, but for Leeseo, it was like an explosion. She didn't move; she stayed frozen in that provocative pose, knowing exactly what had just happened. A slow, cruel smile formed on her lips while she kept her eyes on the TV, though every fiber of her being was focused on the man beside her.
The man lowered the phone quickly, looking at the screen with a mix of horror and absolute excitement. There it was: a clear photo of Leeseo, capturing the curve of her ass and the tension of her breasts under the blue light. He had crossed a line. It wasn't just a mental desire anymore; he now had physical proof of his betrayal—a forbidden image that tied him to her in a dark, permanent way.
Leeseo leaned slightly toward him, brushing her shoulder against his arm, and whispered so low only he could hear:
"Do you like taking photos, sir? I hope it turned out well..." she said, feeling the moisture between her legs increase, knowing she now had him completely in the palm of her hand.
The tension in the room had reached an unbearable saturation point, but just as the air seemed ready to explode, Eunchae broke the bubble. With a yawn that echoed through the room, she stood up from the sofa, wrapping herself in her blanket like a cocoon.
"I can't take it anymore... I'm going to sleep," Eunchae announced in a sleepy voice. "Leeseo, come on, we have to wake up early for the mall tomorrow. Dad, don't stay up reading those papers, turn out the lights soon."
Leeseo felt a sting of frustration, but she knew the game was more enjoyable when the hunger reached its limit. She stood up with calculated slowness, letting her skirt brush her thighs and casting one last look at the man. It was a quick glance, but loaded with a dark promise; her eyes clearly said this wasn't over.
"I'm coming, Eunchae," Leeseo replied in her usual sweet tone, following her friend up the stairs.
As she climbed, Leeseo could feel the father's gaze anchored to her back, tracing the sway of her hips and the way the skirt hugged her ass at every step. She didn't turn around, but smiled to herself. She knew she was leaving him in a state of pure torture, alone with his memories and that forbidden image on his phone.
Upstairs, Leeseo waited patiently for Eunchae to settle in and fall into a deep sleep. She stayed silent, listening to her friend's rhythmic breathing, feeling how her own excitement made her vibrate. Her thong was soaked, the lace string irritating her skin, reminding her she was in enemy territory and the prize was a mature man broken by desire. Once she was sure Eunchae wouldn't wake up even if there were an explosion, she slid out of bed and walked down the stairs barefoot, moving like a shadow in the dark.
When she reached the ground floor, she didn't turn on any lights. She stayed hidden in the doorway to the study, where the man was still awake. The only lighting came from his phone screen—a blue glow that silhouetted Eunchae’s father in the darkness.
Leeseo held her breath and watched. The man was sitting in his chair, legs open and pants pulled down to his thighs. His right hand moved with frantic urgency, sliding up and down his erect dick, which glowed under the cold light of the phone. With the other hand, he held the phone in front of his eyes, staring at the photo he'd taken on the sofa.
Leeseo felt a visceral spark of pleasure seeing him like this. The man was completely surrendered to his own lust; he let out heavy, raspy gasps, and his pupils were dilated, fixed on the image of Leeseo’s breasts and ass. She could hear the wet sound of friction (slap, slap), an animal rhythm filling the silence of the house. The man was sweating; a drop rolled down his temple as he clenched his teeth, muttering unintelligible words—probably her name or some dirty fantasy about what he wanted to do to this girl.
Leeseo decided it was time to enter the scene. She made no noise, simply sliding toward him and stopping right behind the chair. She leaned in slowly, letting her hair brush the back of his neck, while whispering with a voice full of malice:
"Seems like you really like that photo... are you enjoying the show, sir?"
The man let out a muffled scream and jumped violently, almost dropping the phone. His heart hammered against his ribs and his breathing became erratic—a chaos of panic and absolute excitement. He looked up and saw Leeseo watching him with a predatory smile, dressed only in her translucent tee that showed her erect nipples and the short skirt that hid nothing of her intention.
"Leeseo... my God! What are you doing here?" he managed to say, though his voice was a broken thread, while he desperately tried to cover his dick with his hand, unsuccessfully.
Leeseo let out a low giggle and moved forward, circling the chair until she was in front of him. She squatted down, bringing herself to the level of his crotch, staring fixedly at the hardened flesh still pulsing before her.
"Don't bother hiding," she told him, extending a hand to softly stroke the man's knee. "I saw everything. I saw how you were masturbating thinking about me. I wonder... if the photo is that good, wouldn't you prefer if I took some more for you?"
The study was submerged in a dense dimness, broken only by the cold glow of the phone and a small desk lamp projecting long, distorted shadows on the walls. The man remained trapped in his chair, dick still erect and pulsing, looking at Leeseo as if she were a sinful miracle or a nightmare he didn't want to wake up from. His vulnerability was total; he was emotionally naked and physically exposed before the girl who had just caught him in his most animal moment.
Leeseo stood up slowly but didn't move away. She stayed inches from him, enjoying the way the man swallowed hard (glup), unable to hold her gaze while his hands shook. She knew she had absolute control. She had transformed blackmail into an invitation and the man's shame into fuel for desire.
"If you want to capture reality, sir... you have to know how to ask for it," she whispered, her voice swinging between childish sweetness and raw malice. "But first, I want you to look at me properly. I want you to see exactly what you're missing by trying to be a 'good father'."
Leeseo took a step back, moving just enough for the man to admire her full silhouette under the dim light. Suddenly, she changed her pose. She straightened up, brought her hands to the edges of her pleated skirt, and with a slow, coordinated movement, pulled it upward, exposing the total whiteness of her thighs and letting the thong string mark her skin.
She leaned slightly forward, arching her back in a classic schoolgirl pose, resting one hand on her cheek while tilting her head with an innocent smile that contrasted violently with the obscenity of the position.
"Do you like it like this, daddy?" she let slip, using the term "daddy" for the first time. The word hit the man like an electric whip.
The man let out a muffled moan, a sound born deep in his throat. Seeing her like that—disguised as schoolgirl innocence but with a gaze loaded with lust—was destroying his last remnants of sanity. His fingers gripped the phone tight and, without a word, he raised the camera again.
Click.
"More... I want more," he growled, his voice now completely broken and animal.
Leeseo let out a crystalline giggle and moved toward the desk. She climbed onto the polished wood surface, brushing papers aside with a rough movement that sent some flying across the room. She sat on the edge of the desk, opening her legs enough for him to see the moisture glistening on the lace of her thong. She brought her hands to the collar of her white shirt and pulled it down hard, exposing her breasts almost completely; only a thin strip of fabric stopped her nipples from jumping into view, but the pressure of the textile left them marked, erect and dark under the light.
"Look at my boobs, daddy... look how they're beating for you," she whispered, as she began to stroke her thighs, sliding her fingers slowly toward the edge of her underwear. "Isn't this much better than a simple photo? Tell me you want to touch me. Tell me you want your good girl to be very bad with you."
The man was out of his mind. He stood up from the chair with a sudden movement—the chair screeched against the floor (skree)—and walked toward her with heavy steps. His eyes were dilated, fixed on Leeseo's cleavage and the whiteness of her legs open on the desk. He was sweating; a drop ran down his temple while his dick, tense and painful, hammered against the fabric of his pants with every step.
Leeseo looked down at him with an expression of sexual superiority. She put a finger to her lips, biting it softly while maintaining her provocative schoolgirl pose.
"Take another photo... " she ordered in a whisper. "But this time, I want you to get so close that you can smell my wetness. I want you to feel that I'm about to soak myself just from you looking at me."
The man reached her and, though he didn't touch her yet, stayed so close that his hot breath hit Leeseo's breasts. The sound of the camera shutter became frantic (click, click, click), capturing every forbidden angle: the arch of her back, the tension of her ass against the wooden desk, and the predatory gaze of a girl who was leading him straight into the abyss.
The sound of the last click hung in the air, but the silence that followed was much louder. The man stood there, inches from her, lungs burning and gaze lost in Leeseo's cleavage. The tension was so thick you could almost touch it; a rope stretched to its limit that only needed one touch to break into a thousand pieces.
Leeseo didn't move from the desk. She stayed there, legs open and back arched, enjoying the expression of absolute defeat on the man's face. She extended a hand and, with sadistic slowness, grabbed the lapel of Eunchae’s father's shirt, pulling him down until their faces were millimeters apart. She could smell the sweat and desire emanating from his skin—an animal aroma that made her get even wetter between her legs.
"Look at me closely, daddy..." she whispered, and her voice no longer had a trace of innocence; it was the voice of a woman who knew exactly how to destroy a man. "Look into my eyes while you think about what you're doing."
The man let out a raspy moan, closing his eyes for an instant as if trying to erase the image, but Leeseo didn't allow it. She stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers, sliding slowly down toward his neck.
"What are you thinking right now?" she asked in a whisper full of malice. "Are you thinking that I'm your daughter's best friend? Does it turn you on to know that while Eunchae is sleeping upstairs, you're down here with a dick so hard it almost breaks your pants because of your daughter's friend?"
The man let out a violent gasp and opened his eyes. The mention of Eunchae didn't stop him; on the contrary, it acted as a catalyst, lighting the flame of the taboo. The risk of being caught, the betrayal of his own blood, became the most potent aphrodisiac.
"Shut up... please, just shut up," he growled, though his hands could no longer stay still and had descended to Leeseo's thighs, squeezing her white flesh with desperate force.
Leeseo let out a low, vibrating giggle, throwing her head back as she felt the pressure of his fingers on her skin.
"Why do you want me to shut up? Do you like it when I remind you?" she told him, lowering her voice to a dirty purr. "Imagine Eunchae's face if she walked in right now and saw how her daddy has her best friend sitting on the desk, legs open and boobs out, begging him to fuck her. Would you like that, daddy? Or do you prefer it to be our dirtiest secret?"
The man let out a muffled roar and buried his face in Leeseo's neck, inhaling her scent with animal voracity. His lips didn't kiss; they bit and sucked the white skin, leaving reddish marks that screamed possession. Meanwhile, his hands moved with brutal urgency toward the pleated skirt.
There was no delicacy. The man grabbed the fabric and yanked it up to her waist, exposing the total whiteness of Leeseo's legs and the thong string digging into her tight ass. With one hand, he gripped her hip so hard his fingers left white marks on the skin, while with the other he began to pull the lace of the thong to the side.
The sound of fabric sliding over wet skin was almost audible in the deathly silence of the house. Leeseo felt the cold air hit her exposed intimacy just before the man's searing heat covered her again. They were there, at the absolute limit; the touch of the glans against her wet entrance was a promise of destruction.
"Look at me," he ordered, pulling away just a centimeter to force her to see him. "Look into my eyes while I open you up, bad girl. I want to see that smile vanish when you feel me break you from the inside."
Leeseo looked at him, and in her dilated pupils there was no fear—only an animal hunger that matched his own. They were a millimeter away from explosion, hearts hammering against ribs, with the scent of forbidden sex filling every inch of the study. Time seemed to stop, leaving only the sound of their heavy breathing and the vibration of a tension about to erupt in a scream.
The silence of the study was annihilated by a wet, dry sound—a visceral plok that echoed in the room as the man's dick, hard as a rock and engorged, forced its way into Leeseo's burning moisture. It wasn't a fast thrust; it was a slow, deliberate, and agonizing invasion. The man pushed inch by inch, forcing Leeseo's internal walls to stretch to a limit she had never experienced.
Leeseo let out a moan that was more of a muffled scream, burying her face in the man's shoulder while her nails dug into his back. The sensation was overwhelming; she felt the total fullness of him filling her, displacing all the air from her lungs and leaving her shaking. The thickness of the dick opened her with brute force, and for a moment, the pleasure was so intense it bordered on pain—an electric discharge that blurred her vision and left her suspended in a void of pure instinct.
When the man finally sank in to the root, completely buried inside her, he stopped. He didn't start moving immediately; he stayed there, anchored deep in her belly, allowing both to feel the suffocating pressure of their fused bodies. The heat was unbearable—a wet, hot friction that made Leeseo let out erratic gasps while she felt the man's heart hammering against her own chest in a frantic rhythm.
The man pulled back just a few millimeters, enough to look into her eyes, but without leaving her. His pupils were dilated, and his face reflected a mix of animal triumph and dark curiosity. His voice, when he spoke, was a low growl that vibrated directly inside Leeseo.
"Tell me the truth, bad girl..." he whispered, squeezing her thighs against the desk with a force that left marks. "Is this what you wanted? Do you like this? Provoking men until they lose their minds... playing the innocent while leading them to the edge of the abyss."
Leeseo tried to answer, but could only let out a raspy moan. The feeling of having him inside her, so big and hot, had her in a trance. The man didn't let her stay silent; he dug his fingers into the flesh of her hip, anchoring her against the cold wood of the desk.
"Do you do this with everyone?" he continued, his tone becoming more inquisitive and raw. "Does it amuse you to see how men go crazy for a schoolgirl who knows exactly where to touch and how to look? Tell me... does it turn you on knowing you have the power to turn a mature man into a desperate animal?"
Leeseo looked up, her eyes misty with tears of pleasure and a malice that hadn't faded. Despite being physically dominated, her smile was still there—small and poisonous.
"I love it..." she gasped, arching her back to squeeze him even tighter. "I love seeing how they break... I love knowing that you, the big man, the perfect father... are right now buried in your daughter's friend and can't stop shaking."
The man let out a guttural roar at her response. Leeseo's brutal honesty was the final trigger. There were no more questions or psychological pauses. The man began to move, but not with softness; he started with slow, heavy thrusts that made the desk screech against the floor (skree), deliberately seeking to rub the internal walls of Leeseo in every movement.
"Then you're going to learn what happens when a man gets tired of playing," he growled as he accelerated the pace. "You're going to feel exactly how much it can hurt and feel good to be fucked like the provocative bitch you are."
Leeseo let out a muffled scream when the first strong thrust hit her, feeling the man's dick claim her with animal fury. The sound of flesh colliding (clap) began to fill the study, and Leeseo closed her eyes, letting herself go with a current of pleasure that no longer had a name, while the risk of Eunchae waking up upstairs turned every thrust into an electric discharge of pure adrenaline.
The study had become an echo chamber where only the sound of the desk screeching and the wet, rhythmic, brutal noise of bodies colliding (clap, clap, clap) existed. The man's dick entered and exited with a force that made Leeseo's head bounce against the cold wood, but she didn't stop smiling. She was in the center of a hurricane of pleasure and sin, feeling how each thrust tore a moan from her that struggled not to become a scream that would wake the whole house.
The man was out of it. His hands no longer just held Leeseo's hips; now he gripped them with violent possessiveness, digging his fingers into her white flesh while moving with animal urgency. He stopped for a second, keeping his dick buried to the bottom, and looked at Leeseo with eyes that were pure fire and lustful contempt.
"Tell me..." he growled, his voice broken and raspy. "Tell me while I'm opening you up like this. How many more? How many men have you left crazy with your little good-girl game?"
Leeseo let out a giggle that sounded like pure sin, arching her back to squeeze him closer. Her breasts bounced violently against the man's chest, and sweat made their skins slide in an electric friction.
"Whoever wants it, daddy..." she gasped, digging her nails into the adult's shoulders. "I love seeing how they get. It fascinates me to see their faces when they realize the sweet girl has a hunger they can't fill. I'm a slut, right? A pretty little slut who knows exactly what to do to make a man forget his own name."
The man let out a guttural roar upon hearing that word. Leeseo's confession was like throwing gasoline on fire. The fact that she owned it, that she enjoyed her provocative nature while in her friend's house, drove the man insane.
"You are a slut..." he confirmed, thrusting into her with renewed force that made Leeseo let out a muffled cry. "A damn intelligent slut. You like playing with fire, don't you? It turns you on knowing half the world is drooling over you while you pretend not to know what's happening."
"It drives me crazy..." she replied, closing her eyes and throwing her head back. "It drives me crazy feeling how they want me... feeling like I'm a forbidden prize. And you're the best of all, daddy. There's nothing more exciting than seeing my daughter's father losing his dignity to lick my tits and fuck my ass in his own office."
"Shut up... just shut up!" he roared, though his words were a plea for her to continue. "I'm fed up with your games... but I love them. I love knowing you're a slut and that right now you're MY slut."
The pace became frantic. The man was no longer seeking slow pleasure; he sought destruction. Every thrust was a dry, deep hit that left Leeseo breathless. The sound of flesh colliding (clap) became faster and wetter, while the scent of sex and betrayal saturated the air.
"Keep going! Fuck me like you want to break me!" she screamed in a desperate whisper. "Make me remember this moment every time I look Eunchae in the face! Fill me up, damn it!"
The man let out an animal moan and accelerated, his hips moving with brute power that made the desk shake. Leeseo felt she was reaching the limit; the pressure in her belly was unbearable and the friction of the dick against her internal walls was taking her straight to a pleasure abyss. The risk of being caught, the rawness of the words, and the man's potency merged into a sensory storm that left her completely exposed.
"Look at me, slut!" he ordered, forcing her to open her eyes while he looked at her. "Look how I'm fucking you. Look at yourself right now, begging for more while your friend sleeps upstairs."
Leeseo looked at him and saw no trace of the responsible man; only an animal that possessed her with blind fury. She responded with a look of absolute triumph, knowing she had him exactly where she wanted: reduced to nothing but desire and flesh.
The study was no longer a room; it was an oven of flesh, sweat, and betrayal. The pace had become so frantic that the sound of bodies colliding (clap, clap, clap) was no longer rhythmic but chaotic—a storm of wet friction threatening to blow both their nerves. Leeseo was in a state of delirium; she felt the man's dick entering and exiting her like a hydraulic piston, hitting her cervix with a force that tore broken, desperate gasps from her.
"God... I can't take any more! I'm going to come!" the man roared, his voice now an animal growl, while his hands squeezed Leeseo's thighs with such violence that his fingers sank into her white skin.
Leeseo threw her head back, hitting the wood of the desk, eyes rolling back and tongue brushing her lips. She felt her own body start to betray her; the walls of her vagina contracted in involuntary spasms, trapping the man's thickness in a suffocating embrace that only accelerated the agony of pleasure.
"Do it! Come inside me, daddy!" she screamed in a torn whisper, digging her nails into the man's shoulders until she drew red furrows. "Fill me up! I want to feel how you mark me inside while your daughter sleeps upstairs! Make it impossible to forget me!"
That last sentence was the final trigger. The man let out a guttural moan, a sound born deep in his chest that echoed through the study. He buried his face in Leeseo's neck, biting her skin with brutal urgency, while his hips gave the last thrusts—deep and violent, seeking to reach the absolute limit.
"I'm coming! Damn it, I'm coming in you!" he screamed in a hoarse, desperate whisper.
In that instant, the world stopped. Leeseo felt an electric shock run down her spine and explode in her belly just as the man reached his climax. She felt the first hot, thick jet filling her interior—a visceral feeling of fullness that made her arch her back with a violent spasm. The hot fluid flooded her internal walls, wave after wave, while the man kept pulsing inside her, emptying himself completely in an orgasm that seemed endless.
Leeseo let out a muffled scream against the man's skin, feeling her own climax hit her in successive waves, leaving her shaking and breathless. Her breasts bounced against the adult's sweaty chest, and the moisture of the sex kept them stuck in a suffocating union. The sound of their erratic, heavy breathing filled the void left by the noise of colliding flesh.
They stayed like that for several minutes, fused in an embrace of exhaustion and sin. The man didn't withdraw immediately; he stayed leaning over her, his body weight crushing her against the desk, while their hearts beat in unison, hammering against ribs like trapped animals.
Slowly, the man pulled away. The sound of the dick sliding out of Leeseo's moisture was wet and slow (plok). Leeseo let out a sigh of emptiness, feeling the hot semen start to slide down her thighs, staining the wood of the desk and the lace of her displaced thong.
The silence that returned to the study was now much heavier than before. It wasn't a peace silence, but a devastating emotional hangover. The man stepped away, looking at his shiny, wet dick, then looked at Leeseo. The girl was sprawled on the wood, hair messy, lips swollen and gaze lost in the ceiling. Her breasts still rose and fell violently from lack of air, and the man's mark was imprinted on every inch of her skin.
Leeseo turned her head slowly and looked at him. There was no regret in her eyes; only a cold, predatory satisfaction.
"Look at yourself now, daddy..." she whispered, voice broken but full of triumph. "Look in the mirror. You're not the perfect father anymore. Now you're just a man who came inside his daughter's friend."
The man didn't respond. He covered his face with his hands, letting out a shaky sigh that sounded like total defeat. He had obtained the most intense pleasure of his life, but he knew the price was his own dignity. Leeseo, instead, licked her lips and smiled inwardly. She had him dominated. The bond was sealed not only by flesh, but by the filth of the secret they now shared.
The study remained in a deathly silence, broken only by their heavy breathing and the rhythmic drip of some faucet in the distant kitchen. Leeseo stayed lying on the desk for a few more moments, feeling her body vibrate in a hangover of pleasure and exhaustion. The cold air of the room hit her sweaty skin, sending shivers that made her nipples harden once more. She looked at the man; he was still there, standing like a salt statue, gaze empty and face distorted, processing the magnitude of the abyss he had just fallen into.
Leeseo sat up slowly, moving with an almost feline leisure. She was in no rush. She enjoyed the image of the defeated man. She slid off the desk and immediately felt the thick, hot fluid sliding down her thighs toward her knees. She didn't bother to clean herself; on the contrary, that viscous trail was her trophy—the physical mark that she had possessed him mentally while he possessed her physically.
She bent down to pick up her thong from the floor. The lace was wet and deformed from the struggle. She pulled it up with a rough movement, feeling the fabric stick to her soaked pussy, trapping the semen against her skin. She didn't care about the discomfort; every time she took a step, she felt the moisture crushing between her lips, reminding her at every inch of movement that she was full of him. She put on her pleated skirt, which now felt heavy and cold against her wet thighs, and adjusted her white shirt, now wrinkled and smelling intensely of sex and tobacco. Finally, she put on her oversized cardigan, wrapping herself in that mask of fragility once more.
"It was a pleasure, daddy," she whispered, casting one last look full of malice before leaving the study silently.
The walk back to the room was a delicious torture. She climbed the stairs feeling the fluid dripping slowly down the inside of her thighs, staining the fabric of her underwear. Entering the room, Eunchae didn't even move; she was still submerged in a deep and heavy sleep. Leeseo slid into bed, but couldn't sleep immediately. She spent hours staring at the ceiling, feeling the pulsing of her own body and the heat of the semen drying slowly inside her, creating a dirty feeling of fullness that made her smile in the dark.
The next morning arrived with a white, cruel light that seemed to want to expose all the house's secrets. Leeseo woke up feeling renewed, though the feeling of moisture between her legs persisted—a viscous reminder of the previous night. She dressed carefully, making sure to look as innocent and sweet as day one, though inside she felt like a predator who had just finished a feast.
While bringing down the bags, Eunchae was excited, telling her how much she'd miss her and when they'd see each other again. Leeseo nodded and laughed with that melodic voice, but her eyes were fixed on the hallway, waiting for the man to appear.
When Eunchae's father appeared in the living room, the air became dense instantly. He couldn't look her in the eye; his gaze avoided Leeseo's, fixed on some indeterminate point on the floor. He looked tired, with deep dark circles and a rigid posture, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was devastated, but Leeseo could tell that despite the guilt, his body reacted to her. She could see how his hands shook slightly and how his breathing became erratic the moment she approached.
"Well... I'm leaving now," Leeseo said, stopping right in front of him while Eunchae finished closing the back door.
Leeseo leaned slightly forward, letting the scent of her sweet perfume hit the man's face. In a quick movement almost imperceptible to anyone not paying attention, she brushed her hip against his leg—a fleeting contact but loaded with violent electricity.
"Thanks for everything, sir," she whispered, lowering her voice to a forbidden purr. "I had an... incredibly good time. I hope you keep my photos safe."
The man let out a shaky sigh and, for a brief second, looked up. His eyes met Leeseo's and she saw hunger, fear, and addiction mixed in one expression. There were no words, only a silent promise that this dark bond wouldn't be broken by a goodbye.
"Bye, daddy," she added with an angelic smile before turning around and walking toward the car, knowing she was leaving behind a psychologically shattered man completely addicted to the taste of her betrayal.
The house had returned to a deathly silence, but it was a fake calm, loaded with a tension that still floated in the air. Eunchae was alone in the living room, submerged in a soft melancholy after her friend's departure. While picking up some things left behind, her eyes caught her father's phone, which he had forgotten on the study table in his dazed state.
Out of pure curiosity, and with the blind trust a daughter has for her father, she took the device. There was no password; the screen was open to the gallery.
Eunchae felt the world stop. The air became glacial and her fingers started shaking violently as she scrolled through the screen. There they were. Photos of Leeseo. But not the Leeseo she knew. They were raw, vulgar images; her friend in obscene poses, skirt up, exposing her ass and breasts under a light that screamed sin. She saw Leeseo's expression in the photos: that predatory look, that malicious smile she had never shown her.
The shock was a physical blow that left her stomach churning. Eunchae felt a bitter nausea rise in her throat as she processed the double betrayal. Her father, the man who was her pillar; and Leeseo, the girl she called "best friend," who had infiltrated her home to use her father as a sex toy.
But then, something happened. The pain and disappointment didn't turn into tears, but into a cutting coldness. Her pupils dilated and the shaking of her hands stopped, replaced by a glacial rigidity. She looked at the photo of Leeseo—so pretty, so innocent in appearance—and felt a deep disgust that quickly transformed into a hunger for justice.
So this is what you are... Eunchae thought, while her knuckles turned white from gripping the phone. You think you're the hunter. You think you can walk into my house, fuck my father, and leave with a smile.
Eunchae closed her eyes for a second, imagining Leeseo's face when she realized she no longer controlled the secret. An idea started to form in her mind—a dark and meticulous plan. She wasn't going to scream, cry, or confront them right now. She knew exactly where Leeseo's weak points were: her public image, her career, her good-girl mask.
You want to play at being a professional slut, Leeseo... Eunchae reflected with terrifying calm while placing the phone exactly where she had found it. But you have no idea what happens when the prey learns how to bite.
Eunchae stood up and walked to the window, looking down the path Leeseo had taken. A cold, empty smile appeared on her lips. The game wasn't over; it had simply changed owners. And she would make sure Leeseo paid for every second of that betrayal with the most painful currency: her own destruction.
This Work Is Purely Fiction, So Beware of Rape! and Gangbang. This is a Commision Work for My Friend @sinbaddict Hope Yall Enjoyed It.
The words wouldn’t settle. They kept swimming, rearranging themselves into shapes that made your stomach twist into something cold and unfamiliar. You’d read the article three times now, each pass peeling away another layer of the person you thought you knew.
“I don’t really care about my fans. As long as they give me financial freedom, I’m happy.”
Kwon Eunbi. Your ultimate bias. The woman whose photocards lived in a binder on your desk, whose fancams you’d watched at three in the morning when sleep refused to come, whose voice had pulled you through the worst months of your life after the accident that took Dad. You’d been there since Produce 48. You’d voted. You’d cried when IZ*ONE disbanded. You’d supported her solo debut, bought the albums, streamed the MVs until your eyes burned.
And she didn’t care.
Not about you. Not about anyone who’d ever cheered for her.
The screen dimmed from inactivity. Your reflection stared back at you from the black glass—twenty-one years old, hollow-eyed, jaw tight. The university-issued desk lamp cast a jaundiced glow across your dorm room. Outside, someone laughed in the hallway. The sound felt like it belonged to a different world.
Your phone buzzed.
A notification from KakaoTalk. A group invitation.
The name made your thumb pause mid-swipe: Eunbi Haters — Seoul Chapter.
You should have declined. You should have blocked the sender—someone with a display name that was just a string of numbers—and tried to forget the article existed. That was what a rational person would do.
But the article was still open in your browser. And the words were still there.
You accepted the invite.
The chat exploded.
Messages scrolled past faster than you could read them—curses, screenshots, voice notes, links to forums you’d never heard of. Dozens of people. Hundreds. All of them furious. All of them hurt. The same wound, replicated across every member, festering in real-time.
A message from Admin_Zero pinned itself to the top of the chat:
“Welcome, newcomers. You’re here because you know the truth now. Eunbi doesn’t care about us. She cares about our wallets. If you want to do something about it, stay. If you’re here to defend her, leave now. We’re not interested in forgiveness.”
Your fingers typed before your brain caught up.
“I’m in.”
Three weeks later, you were sitting in a basement in Hongdae.
The room smelled like stale cigarette smoke and instant ramen. Seven other men sat around a low table cluttered with soju bottles, laptop screens, and printed photographs. You recognized some of them from the chat. Jae-hyun, a former fansite master who’d spent tens of millions of won on camera equipment and concert tickets, sat directly across from you, his knuckles white around a glass. Min-seok, a soft-spoken guy with glasses who’d run one of the biggest Eunbi translation accounts, was wedged into a corner, chewing his bottom lip raw. The others—Dong-soo, a thick-necked former security guard; Young-chul, a fashion student with vacant eyes; Ho-jin, a tech specialist who smelled like he hadn’t showered in days; and Kyung, a quiet, watchful presence who hadn’t spoken a word since you’d arrived—filled the remaining spaces.
At the head of the table sat Admin_Zero.
He was older than you’d expected. Mid-thirties. Sharp cheekbones, hair slicked back, a scar bisecting his left eyebrow. He’d introduced himself simply as “Zero” and offered no other name. The way he held the room reminded you of a spider at the center of a web.
“Everyone’s here,” Zero said. His voice was calm. Measured. “Let’s begin.”
He tapped his laptop. The screen facing the group displayed a schedule. Performance dates. Venue details. Security layouts. All of it centered around one event:
Waterbomb Seoul 2026.
“She’s headlining the Saturday slot,” Zero continued. “Closing performance. High exposure. Lots of cameras. Lots of fans. She’ll be at her most untouchable on stage.” He paused, letting that sink in. “And her most vulnerable afterward.”
Your pulse ticked up. You could feel it in your temples, in the hollow of your throat. You’d known, abstractly, that this meeting was about doing something. The chat had been full of furious rhetoric for weeks—talk of revenge, of teaching her a lesson, of making her understand what it felt like to be used and discarded. But sitting in that basement, surrounded by men who looked as wound-up as you felt, the abstract had become concrete.
Dong-soo leaned forward. His shoulders strained against his shirt. “Security?”
“Standard idol detail,” Zero said. “Four bodyguards. Two stay with her vehicle, two escort her to the dressing room. The backstage area at Jamsil Sports Complex is a maze. I’ve mapped it.” He clicked to a new slide. Blueprints. “There’s a service corridor here. Connects the loading dock to the dressing rooms. No cameras. Minimal foot traffic after the event ends.”
Min-seok’s voice came out thin. “This is… we’re really talking about this?”
Zero’s gaze slid toward him. “You’re free to leave.”
Nobody moved.
The silence stretched until it became something heavier—a shared complicity that settled over the room like a second skin. You looked at the faces around the table. None of them looked like criminals. None of them looked like monsters. They looked like fans. Disillusioned, heartbroken, furious fans.
You wondered if that was worse.
“What exactly,” Jae-hyun said slowly, “are we proposing?”
Zero smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “She said she only cares about financial freedom. She said fans are nothing but wallets. So we’re going to remind her that wallets don’t protect you. We’re going to remind her that actions have consequences.”
He clicked to the next slide.
Your stomach dropped.
The photographs showed Eunbi at various events—airport departures, fansigns, backstage moments. Candid shots, the kind only someone with insider access could capture. And beneath each photo, notes. Her schedule patterns. Her habits. Her vulnerabilities.
“We’re going to take something from her,” Zero said. “Something she’ll never get back. And then we’re going to make sure she never forgets who she belongs to.”
The planning stretched across weeks.
You attended every meeting. You told yourself it was because you wanted to know what they were capable of. You told yourself you were just observing, just gathering information, just making sure things didn’t go too far. But late at night, when you lay in your dorm bed staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t escape the truth.
You were still angry.
Angrier than you’d ever been.
The article had cracked something inside you. Every time you saw Eunbi’s face on a billboard, every time one of her songs came on in a cafe, every time you stumbled across an old fancam—the crack widened. The woman you’d loved, the woman you’d devoted years of your life to supporting, had looked at her fans and seen ATMs.
You weren’t just angry at her. You were angry at yourself. For being naive. For believing that any idol actually cared.
So you kept going to the meetings. You kept listening. You kept telling yourself you hadn’t crossed any lines.
Until the night Zero singled you out.
“You,” he said, pointing across the table. “You’ve been quiet.”
The others turned to look at you. Seven pairs of eyes, some curious, some wary, some flat with indifference.
“Just listening,” you said.
“You were one of the first to join the chat.” Zero’s voice was casual, but there was something sharp beneath it. “Why?”
You thought about lying. But what was the point? You were already here. You were already complicit.
“She broke something,” you said. “I want her to understand what that feels like.”
Zero held your gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded, slow and satisfied.
“Good. Because I have a specific role in mind for you.”
The night of Waterbomb Seoul 2026 arrived humid and electric.
Jamsil Sports Complex swelled with bodies. Fifty thousand people, maybe more, packed into the open-air venue. The bass from the speakers thrummed through the concrete, through your bones, as you stood backstage with a lanyard around your neck and a forged crew ID clipped to your shirt. Ho-jin had handled the credentials. The man was unsettling—too quiet, too precise—but his skills were undeniable.
You weren’t alone. Dong-soo stood to your left, his bulk barely contained by the black security uniform Zero had procured. Young-chul hovered near the dressing room corridor, pretending to check equipment. Kyung was somewhere in the crowd, a ghost among the audience, his role unclear. Jae-hyun and Min-seok waited in the service van outside, engines running, nerves frayed.
And Zero—Zero was everywhere and nowhere. Coordinating through earpieces. Watching through feeds Ho-jin had tapped into. A puppeteer pulling strings.
“She’s coming off stage in ten,” Zero’s voice crackled in your ear. “Everyone in position.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs.
Through the monitor mounted on the backstage wall, you could see her.
Kwon Eunbi.
She was performing “Underwater,” her most recent single, and the crowd was losing their minds. Water cannons arced across the stage, catching the lights, drenching her white bodysuit until it clung to every curve. Her hair, dark and wet, streamed down her back. Her smile was incandescent. Her body moved with the fluid precision of someone who had spent half her life training, every hip roll and shoulder dip calibrated to maximum effect.
She was beautiful. She had always been beautiful.
That was part of the problem.
The performance ended. The crowd roared. Eunbi bowed, waved, blew kisses that meant nothing to her, and disappeared into the wings.
Right on schedule.
“She’s heading to the dressing room,” Zero said. “Dong-soo, you’re up.”
Dong-soo moved with surprising stealth for a man his size. You followed three paces behind, your pulse a war drum in your ears. The service corridor stretched ahead, fluorescent-lit and empty, just as Zero had promised. The dressing room door was at the end, marked with a laminated sign: KWON EUNBI — NO ENTRY.
Dong-soo knocked.
A muffled voice from inside: “One moment!”
The door opened.
Eunbi stood there in a silk robe, her stage makeup still fresh, her hair damp. Up close, she was smaller than she appeared on stage. More fragile. Her eyes, dark and expressive, flicked from Dong-soo to you. Confusion creased her brow.
“Yes? Can I help—”
Dong-soo moved. One hand clamped over her mouth. The other wrapped around her waist, lifting her off her feet. She struggled—kicked, clawed, a muffled shriek swallowed by his palm—but he was too strong. Too fast.
Your job was to close the door.
You did.
The lock clicked shut.
Eunbi’s eyes found you over Dong-soo’s shoulder. Wide. Terrified. Pleading.
You looked away.
“Good,” Zero’s voice murmured in your ear. “Phase one complete. Proceed to phase two.”
They’d planned this part meticulously.
Dong-soo carried Eunbi to the vanity and set her down in the chair with a gentleness that felt obscene given the circumstances. Young-chul locked the secondary exit. You stood by the door, a sentinel, while the others moved around you with rehearsed efficiency.
Nobody spoke to Eunbi.
That was the first instruction. Don’t engage with her. Don’t let her humanize herself. She’s not a person right now. She’s a target.
Eunbi’s breath came in ragged gasps. Her robe had slipped, exposing one shoulder, the strap of her stage costume beneath. Her hands gripped the armrests of the vanity chair, knuckles white.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please, whatever you want—money, I have money—”
Young-chul snorted.
“She really doesn’t get it,” he said. His voice was flat, disappointed. “After everything.”
Dong-soo moved behind her, his hands settling on her shoulders with a weight that made her flinch. He didn’t squeeze. Not yet. Just held her there, pinned in place by the sheer threat of his presence.
“Eunbi-ssi,” Zero’s voice came from the doorway.
He’d entered without a sound. Because of course he had. He stood there in a black suit, his scar vivid under the dressing room lights, looking for all the world like a businessman who’d wandered into the wrong meeting.
Eunbi’s head snapped toward him. “Who—who are you?”
Zero smiled that empty smile. “Someone you disappointed.”
He walked toward her with unhurried steps. Each footfall was deliberate, measured, a metronome of dread. Eunbi tried to shrink back, but Dong-soo’s hands held her fast.
“You said you don’t care about your fans,” Zero said. “You said they only matter as long as they give you financial freedom. Do you remember saying that?”
Eunbi’s face went pale. “That—that was taken out of context—”
“Was it?” Zero pulled out his phone. Tapped the screen. “Let’s hear the audio.”
The recording played. Her voice, unmistakable: “I don’t really care about my fans. As long as they give me financial freedom, I’m happy.” No context. No editing. Just her words, hanging in the air like a verdict.
“I was—I was tired,” Eunbi stammered. “It was a long interview, I didn’t mean—”
“You didn’t mean for it to come out,” Zero interrupted. “That’s the only thing you regret. Not the sentiment. Not the contempt. Just the fact that we heard it.”
He pocketed his phone.
“But we did hear it. And we decided to take it personally.”
Zero looked at you. “Come here.”
Your legs carried you forward before your brain could object. You stopped beside him, close enough to smell Eunbi’s perfume—something floral, expensive, already souring with sweat.
“Tell her,” Zero said. “Tell her what you told me.”
Eunbi’s eyes met yours.
And in that moment, something shifted.
It would have been easier if she’d looked defiant. If she’d sneered, or dismissed you, or spat in your face. But she didn’t. She looked at you like you were her last hope. Like you, specifically, might save her.
That was the cruelty of it. Because you had loved her. You had loved her so much that the betrayal had hollowed you out and filled the empty space with something corrosive.
“I supported you since Produce 48,” you said. Your voice came out steadier than you felt. “I voted for you. I streamed your music. I bought your albums. When my dad died, your voice was the only thing that got me through.”
Eunbi’s lips parted. Something flickered in her expression—recognition, maybe. Or fear that she should have recognized you but couldn’t.
“And you don’t care,” you continued. “You never did. None of it mattered to you.”
“That’s not true,” she whispered. “That’s—please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“You meant it,” you said. “You just didn’t mean for us to hear it.”
The words landed like stones dropped into still water.
Zero nodded, satisfied. “There it is. That’s the truth.” He turned back to Eunbi. “You’ve built your entire career on the backs of people like him. People who gave you their time, their money, their devotion. And you threw it back in their faces. So now we’re going to take something back. Something you can’t buy. Something you can’t earn. Something you can’t smile your way out of.”
Eunbi’s breathing quickened. Her chest rose and fell beneath the robe, the fabric pulling taut across her breasts. She was trying to hold herself together, but you could see the cracks spreading—the tremor in her jaw, the wetness gathering along her lower lash line.
“Please,” she said again. The word came out thin, reedy. “Please don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?” Zero tilted his head. “We haven’t done anything yet.”
He let that sit.
“But we’re going to.”
What happened next unfolded in stages.
Zero gave the signal, and the atmosphere in the room changed. It went from a coiled threat to something in active motion. Dong-soo’s grip shifted from restraining to holding, his thick fingers pressing into the meat of Eunbi’s shoulders with enough force to dimple the skin. Young-chul stepped closer, pulling something from his pocket—a length of black silk, the kind used for blindfolds.
Eunbi saw it and started thrashing.
“No—no, wait, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll say whatever you want, I’ll apologize publicly, I’ll donate to charity, I’ll—”
The silk slid over her eyes.
Her world went dark.
You watched her panic spike—the way her spine arched, the way her mouth opened on a scream that never came because Dong-soo’s hand clamped back over her lips. She was breathing through her nose now, short sharp bursts of air that made her nostrils flare.
“She’s scared,” Ho-jin observed from his position by the monitors. His voice was clinical. Detached. He might have been discussing weather patterns.
“She should be,” Zero said.
He gestured to you.
“You’re up.”
You knew what he meant. You’d been briefed. You’d been prepared. But standing there, looking at Eunbi—blindfolded, trembling, small in the vanity chair—the knowledge of what you were supposed to do next felt like a physical weight pressing down on your chest.
She broke something. You want her to understand what that feels like. That’s what you said.
You stepped forward.
Your hand, when you raised it, wasn’t steady.
Eunbi couldn’t see you, but she could hear you—the scuff of your shoes on the floor, the rustle of your clothes, the proximity of your body to hers. She turned her head toward the sound, blind behind the silk, and you saw a tear escape beneath the fabric. It traced a slow path down her cheek, cutting through the stage makeup, leaving a pale streak in its wake.
“Who’s there?” Her voice cracked. “Please, just tell me—”
Your fingers found the collar of her robe.
She went rigid.
One of the others—Young-chul, maybe—let out a breath that was almost a laugh. Not amusement. Something darker. The sound of anticipation curdling in the air.
You pulled the robe aside.
Her shoulder emerged. Then the swell of her collarbone. Then the strap of her stage costume, a damp white band that cut diagonally across her chest. The bodysuit was still wet from the performance, clinging to her skin like a second layer. You could see the outline of her nipple through the fabric, peaked from cold or fear. Probably both.
“Please,” Eunbi breathed. “You don’t have to do this. You’re—you’re a fan, right? You said you supported me. That means something, doesn’t it? That means you care.”
Your hand stopped.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
You had cared. You had cared so goddamn much. And that was the problem. You still cared, even now, even after everything. The part of you that had loved her wasn’t dead—it was just buried under layers of rage and humiliation, scratching at the dirt, trying to get out.
“I did care,” you said. Your voice came out rougher than you intended. “That’s why I’m here.”
Another tear slipped beneath the blindfold.
“Then don’t do this,” she said. “Prove you’re better than him.” She tilted her chin toward where Zero’s voice had come from. “Prove you’re better than all of them. Just—just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I swear. I’ll pretend this never happened.”
Zero chuckled. “She’s good. I’ll give her that.”
“I’m not pretending,” Eunbi insisted. “I’m—I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it like that. I was exhausted, I was frustrated, I said something stupid and cruel and I regret it. I regret it so much. Please.”
Silence.
Somewhere in the building, the distant thump of a bass drop signaled the next act taking the stage. The crowd roared. Fifty thousand people who had no idea what was happening thirty meters away.
“The recording,” Ho-jin said abruptly. “We’re still rolling, right?”
Zero nodded.
“Good.” Ho-jin’s fingers danced across his laptop. “Because I think we should document everything. For leverage. In case she forgets tonight’s lesson.”
“No,” Eunbi gasped. “No, no, no—please don’t—you can’t—”
Dong-soo’s hand tightened over her mouth, muffling the rest.
“Phase three,” Zero announced. “Final preparations. We move on my mark.”
The other men shifted into position. Young-chul produced more silk—this time for her wrists. Kyung emerged from the shadows with a camera rig, professional-grade, the kind used for high-end fansite photos. The irony wasn’t lost on you. Ho-jin angled his laptop so the recording would capture a clear view of the vanity area.
And you—
You were still standing there with her robe half-open under your fingers, watching a woman who had once seemed untouchable come apart at the seams.
“Mark,” Zero said.
Young-chul secured her wrists to the armrests. She fought—how could she not?—but the silk held. Dong-soo released her mouth, and the sound that came out was somewhere between a sob and a wail. The camera captured everything: the open robe, the damp bodysuit, the tears carving tracks through makeup, the way her throat worked as she tried to find words that might save her.
“I’ll give you money,” she tried. “All of it. Everything I have. Just name a price.”
“We don’t want your money,” Min-seok said. His voice was quiet, but it cut through the room. He’d been silent for so long you’d almost forgotten he was there. “We wanted your gratitude. Your respect. Basic human decency. You couldn’t give us that. So now we’ll take something you can’t buy back.”
Eunbi’s blindfold was soaked through now. Dark stains spreading across the silk.
“What… what are you going to do to me?”
Zero stepped forward. He knelt beside the chair, bringing himself to her level, and his voice dropped to something almost gentle.
“We’re going to remind you that you’re not untouchable,” he said. “We’re going to remind you that every idol, no matter how famous, no matter how beautiful—is just a person. And people can be broken.”
He reached up.
And pulled the blindfold away.
Eunbi blinked, eyes streaming, vision adjusting to the light. She looked at you first—because you were closest—and then at Zero, and then at the others, one by one, cataloging faces she would never recognize but would never forget.
“This is your last chance to say something that matters,” Zero told her. “Last chance to prove you’re not the person in that recording.”
Eunbi swallowed.
Her lips moved. Words half-formed, then abandoned. She was trying. You could see her trying. But whatever she came up with—apology, plea, bargain—died in her throat before it reached her tongue.
Because there was nothing she could say.
She’d said it all already.
Zero rose. He looked at you, and his expression was unreadable.
“You’re first.”
Your stomach lurched. “What?”
“You’ve supported her the longest. You’ve given her the most. She broke you first.” He gestured at Eunbi. “So you get to break her first.”
The room held its breath.
Eunbi stared at you. Her eyes—those dark, expressive eyes that had graced magazine covers and music show stages—were puffy and red-rimmed and absolutely fixated on your face. She was searching for something in your expression. Mercy, maybe. Or confirmation that this was all a nightmare she’d wake up from.
“I know you,” she said suddenly. “I—I’ve seen you before. At a fansign. You gave me a letter. You said… you said my music helped you through a hard time.”
You went cold.
She remembered.
She actually remembered.
“That was you, wasn’t it?” Eunbi’s voice cracked on a note that might have been hope. “You wrote about your father. I read it. I read it. I cried in the van afterward because—because it reminded me of my grandmother, the way she—”
“Stop,” you said.
The word came out harsher than you intended. A blade instead of a shield.
Eunbi flinched.
And that flinch—that small, involuntary recoil—did something to you. It made you feel powerful. It made you feel monstrous. It made you feel like the person you’d been before the article, before the heartbreak, before the anger had eaten everything good inside you, was still there somewhere, watching from a very long way away.
Don’t do this, that person whispered.
But that person wasn’t in control anymore.
“You read my letter,” you said. “And you still said those things. You still looked at a camera and told the world we don’t matter.”
“I was wrong,” Eunbi said. “I was so wrong. I see that now. I—”
“You see it now.” The bitterness in your voice surprised even you. “Now that you’re tied to a chair. Now that there are cameras on you. Now that you’re scared. That’s not remorse. That’s survival.”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because you were right.
Zero placed a hand on your shoulder. The weight of it was approving. Proprietary. “You understand now. Good. Take your time. The night’s still young.”
He stepped back, and the others formed a loose semicircle around the vanity. A jury of the betrayed. Dong-soo’s arms crossed over his chest. Young-chul’s camera still recording. Ho-jin’s laptop whirring quietly. Min-seok’s expression unreadable. Jae-hyun’s jaw set. Kyung’s silence somehow the loudest thing in the room.
And you, standing in front of Eunbi, your hand still resting on the collar of her robe.
“Take it off,” Zero said. “The robe. Slowly. Let her feel it.”
Your fingers obeyed before your brain caught up.
The silk slid from her shoulders. It pooled around her elbows, then fell to the floor, a white puddle on the cheap linoleum. She was left in the bodysuit—still damp, still clinging, still hiding nothing. The stage lights had been kind to her. The dressing room lights were not. You could see the goosebumps raised along her arms. The faint blue veins at her wrists. The way her stomach muscles tensed beneath the fabric as she tried to control her breathing.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Zero murmured. “They always are. That’s how they get away with it.”
Eunbi’s eyes stayed on yours. She wasn’t looking at the others anymore. Wasn’t pleading with Zero or struggling against Dong-soo’s grip. She was looking at you, and her gaze was saying something her voice couldn’t.
You can still stop this. You can still be the person who wrote that letter. You can still choose.
Your hand moved toward her face.
She didn’t flinch this time. She held steady, trembling, tears still falling, but steady. Your fingers brushed her cheek. The skin was soft. Warm. Streaked with mascara. You traced the tear track down to her jaw, then lower—along the column of her throat, where her pulse beat fast and frantic beneath your touch.
She swallowed. You felt it.
“What’s your name?” she whispered.
It was such a human question. Such an ordinary question. She wanted to know the name of the person who was about to destroy her. Some part of her still believed that if she could just humanize you, just connect with you, just remind you that you were both people in this room together—she could stop what was coming.
You didn’t answer.
Your fingers slid lower. Down to her collarbone. Down to the strap of her bodysuit, hooking beneath the damp elastic, pulling it aside.
The fabric shifted. Slipped. Revealed the upper curve of her breast, pale and smooth and rising with each shallow breath.
“No,” Eunbi breathed. Not a scream. Not a plea. Just a word. A sound. A tiny raft in a rising tide.
The strap moved further.
The curve became more. Became the swell beneath. Became the shadow of her nipple, still hidden, still just out of view, but only barely.
Your hand stopped.
Everyone waited.
Eunbi’s chest heaved. A single tear fell from her chin and landed on your knuckle. Hot. Real. Human.
“Phase four,” Zero said quietly. “Initiate on my mark.”
You looked down at Eunbi. She looked back up at you. And for a single, suspended second, the rest of the room fell away. There was only her. Only you. Only the space between what you were about to do and who you used to be.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
And you didn’t know which one of you you were apologizing to.
“Mark,” Zero said.
Your hand tightened on the strap of her bodysuit. The damp elastic resisted, then gave, sliding down her shoulder with a wet whisper. The fabric peeled away from her skin, revealing the full curve of her left breast—pale, smooth, the nipple already tight and pebbled from the cold dressing room air.
Eunbi’s eyes stayed closed.
“There she is,” Zero murmured. He was close now, standing just behind your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear. “The real Kwon Eunbi. Not the idol. Not the brand. Just flesh.”
Dong-soo’s hands shifted from her shoulders to her upper arms, his thick fingers dimpling her skin. Young-chul moved the camera closer, the red recording light blinking steady. The others—Min-seok, Jae-hyun, Ho-jin, Kyung—formed a loose semicircle, silent, watching.
“Please,” Eunbi whispered. The word came out cracked, barely audible. “You don’t—you can still stop.”
Nobody answered.
Your fingers found the other strap. You pulled. The bodysuit sagged, caught on her nipples for a heartbeat, then slipped lower, bunching at her waist. Her breasts were bare now, full and round, rising and falling with each shallow breath. A single bead of sweat traced a path between them, catching the harsh fluorescent light.
“Fucking beautiful,” Dong-soo breathed. His voice was different now. Lower. Hungrier. “Better than the fancams.”
Young-chul zoomed in.
Eunbi’s cheeks flushed red. Not arousal—shame. The color spread down her throat, across her collarbone, blooming on her chest. She turned her face away, chin trembling, and another tear slipped from beneath her lashes.
“Look at her,” Zero said. “She’s blushing. After everything she said about us, after dismissing millions of fans as nothing but walking wallets—she still has the capacity to feel embarrassed.” He circled the chair slowly, his footsteps deliberate on the linoleum. “That’s good. That means there’s still a person in there. Something we can reach.”
He stopped in front of her and crouched, bringing his face level with hers.
“Open your eyes, Eunbi-ssi.”
She shook her head, a tiny, desperate motion.
“Open them, or I’ll have Dong-soo hold them open for you.”
Her lashes fluttered. Her eyes—dark, glistening, red-rimmed—met his.
“Good girl,” Zero said. “Now. You’re going to answer some questions. And you’re going to answer them honestly. Do you understand?”
Eunbi’s throat worked. “Yes.”
“Do you care about your fans?”
“Yes. I do. I—”
“No,” Zero interrupted, his voice still calm, still measured. “That’s a lie. We’ve already established that. Try again.”
Eunbi’s mouth opened. Closed. The tears came faster now.
“I… I care about some of them. The ones who—”
“Another lie.” Zero rose to his feet. “You know what I think, Eunbi-ssi? I think you’ve spent so long playing the role of the grateful idol that you’ve forgotten how to be honest. You’ve smiled for so many cameras that your real face has atrophied.” He gestured at the men around him. “So we’re going to help you remember. We’re going to strip away all the pretense, all the performance, until there’s nothing left but the truth.”
He looked at you.
“You first. She knows you. She remembers your letter. That gives you a connection.” His scarred eyebrow lifted. “Use it.”
Your pulse pounded in your temples. The room felt too hot, too close. Eunbi’s eyes found yours again, and the look in them—fear, yes, but also something else, something you couldn’t name—made your stomach clench.
You stepped forward.
Your hand, trembling only slightly, reached out and cupped her left breast.
She flinched. A sharp inhalation hissed through her teeth. But she didn’t pull away. Couldn’t pull away, bound as she was to the chair.
Her skin was softer than you’d imagined. Warmer. You could feel her heartbeat through the flesh, a rapid flutter against your palm. Your thumb brushed her nipple, and it tightened further, crinkling into a hard point.
“Don’t,” she breathed. “Please.”
You rolled the nipple between your thumb and forefinger. Gently at first. Then harder.
A sound escaped her throat—half gasp, half whimper.
“You wrote me a letter,” she said, her voice strained, “telling me about your father. Telling me how my music helped you. That person—that person wouldn’t do this.”
“That person doesn’t exist anymore,” you said. “You killed him.”
You pinched.
She cried out. Her back arched involuntarily, pushing her breast further into your hand. The camera captured everything—the way her nipple darkened as blood rushed to the surface, the way her mouth fell open, the way her hips shifted on the chair.
“Interesting,” Zero observed. “Her body’s responding.”
“I’m not—I’m not—” Eunbi’s words came out fractured, desperate. “That’s just physiology. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Doesn’t it?” Zero tilted his head. “Ho-jin. What’s her heart rate?”
Ho-jin glanced at his laptop screen. He’d tapped into the backstage medical monitoring somehow—of course he had. “Elevated. Hundred and twelve. Pupils dilated.” He paused. “Elevated skin temperature in the pelvic region.”
“Pelvic region,” Zero repeated, amusement flickering across his angular features. “You hear that, Eunbi-ssi? Your body’s calling you a liar.”
“That’s not—you’re hurting me, I’m scared, that’s all it is—”
Zero nodded at Dong-soo.
The big man’s hands moved from her arms to her waist. He lifted her easily, as if she weighed nothing, and repositioned her on the vanity chair so that her legs hung over the edge, spread wide by the restraints around her ankles. The bodysuit, still bunched at her waist, rode up, exposing the pale skin of her inner thighs.
“No,” Eunbi gasped. “No, please, not there—”
Dong-soo’s thick fingers hooked into the fabric at her crotch and pulled. The bodysuit tore with a harsh ripping sound. The white fabric parted, revealing simple cotton panties beneath—plain, practical, the kind worn for comfort during long performances.
“Not very idol-like,” Young-chul murmured from behind the camera. “I expected lace.”
The observation was so mundane, so absurdly casual, that it took a moment for its meaning to register. They were dissecting her. Reducing her to individual parts for inspection and comment. And Eunbi, bound and exposed, could do nothing but listen.
“Take them off,” Zero said to you. “Slowly.”
Your fingers found the waistband of her panties. The cotton was damp—from sweat, from the water cannons, from something else you didn’t want to name. You pulled.
The fabric slid down her thighs, past her knees, over her ankles. You tossed it aside.
Eunbi’s cunt was bare. Completely waxed, smooth, the outer lips plump and pressed together like a seam. The position—legs spread, restrained at the ankles—kept her open, the inner lips just barely visible, pink and glistening.
“Fuck,” Jae-hyun breathed. It was the first word he’d spoken in an hour.
Young-chul moved the camera between her thighs. The lens was inches from her most intimate flesh, capturing every detail in high definition. Eunbi’s face burned crimson. She turned her head away, teeth clenched, jaw tight.
“No hiding,” Zero said. “Look at the camera, Eunbi-ssi. Look at what we’re seeing.”
“I can’t—”
“You can. And you will.”
Dong-soo’s hand found her chin and turned her face forward. Her eyes, wet and wild, stared directly into the lens.
“Good,” Zero said. “Now. Let’s see if you’re as dry as you claim to be. You’re not aroused, correct? This is all just ‘physiology’?”
He nodded at Min-seok.
The soft-spoken translator hesitated. His glasses had fogged slightly from the heat of the room. He removed them, cleaned them on his shirt, replaced them. His hands, when he knelt between Eunbi’s spread thighs, were steady.
“Please,” Eunbi said again. “Min-seok-ssi—I know you. You ran the translation account. You were always so kind. You helped so many international fans connect with me. Please.”
Min-seok paused. For a heartbeat, something flickered behind his lenses.
Then it was gone.
“That was before,” he said quietly. “Before I knew it was all a transaction to you.”
He reached out. His fingers—slender, careful, the fingers of someone who spent his life typing—parted her outer lips.
The sound Eunbi made was not a scream. It was something softer, something that lived in the space between a gasp and a moan. Her inner flesh was slick, pink, glistening with moisture that coated the folds and gathered at the entrance of her cunt.
“Well, well,” Zero said. “Look at that.”
“It’s from the water performance,” Eunbi choked out. “The cannons—I was soaked—”
“The water cannons hit your shoulders and chest. Not between your legs.” Zero’s voice was almost gentle. “You’re aroused, Eunbi-ssi. You’re wet. Your body is preparing itself. Whether you want to admit it or not, some part of you wants this.”
“No,” she sobbed. “No, that’s not true. That’s not—”
Min-seok’s finger slipped inside her.
Her words dissolved into a shuddering exhale. Her bound hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. Her inner walls gripped Min-seok’s digit, tight and hot and unambiguously slick. He pushed deeper, then pulled back, then pushed again, a slow, exploratory rhythm that left no doubt about her state.
“Tight,” Min-seok reported. His voice had changed—flat, clinical, as if he were describing a specimen. “Walls are contracting. Significant lubrication. She’s ready.”
“I’m not ready,” Eunbi cried. “I’m not—I don’t want—please, you have to stop—”
But Min-seok’s finger kept moving. In, out. In, out. Each thrust produced a faint wet sound that seemed deafening in the silent room.
Then he added a second finger.
Eunbi’s hips jerked. Her head fell back, throat exposed, and a sound tore from her lips that was unmistakably a moan. She caught herself immediately, teeth clamping down, but it was too late. Everyone had heard.
“There it is,” Zero said. “The truth. Finally.”
“I hate you,” Eunbi whispered. The words came through gritted teeth. “I hate all of you.”
“Good. Hate is honest. Hate is real.” Zero gestured at the others. “This is what we wanted, Eunbi-ssi. Not your gratitude. Not your love. Those were always lies. But this—this is real.”
He crouched beside her again, close enough that his lips nearly brushed her ear.
“Now we’re going to see just how real it gets.”
Min-seok withdrew his fingers. They came out coated, strands of her arousal connecting them to her flesh before breaking. He looked at them, expression unreadable, then wiped them on his pants.
Dong-soo released her chin. Her head lolled forward, chin touching her chest, dark hair falling around her face in damp ropes. She was crying openly now, tears dripping onto her bare thighs.
“Phase four,” Zero announced. “Full engagement. You first—” he pointed at you “—since you have the connection. Then Dong-soo, Jae-hyun, Min-seok, Young-chul, Ho-jin, Kyung. Take whatever you want. Use whatever hole you prefer. The only rule is there are no rules.”
Eunbi’s head snapped up. “All of you? You’re going to—all at once?”
“That’s the idea,” Zero said mildly.
“You’ll kill me. You’ll split me apart.”
“Probably not. But you’ll wish we had.” He smiled that empty smile. “And then you’ll learn to love it.”
Your hands moved to your belt.
The leather slid through the buckle with a sound that seemed impossibly loud. Eunbi watched, her tear-streaked face pale, as you unbuttoned your pants and let them fall. Your boxers followed. Your cock sprang free, already hard, already aching, the head flushed dark and slick with pre-cum.
She stared.
You weren’t the biggest man in the room—Dong-soo had you beat there by a margin that was almost absurd—but you weren’t small either. Your shaft curved slightly upward, thick enough that your own fingers couldn’t fully encircle it, veins prominent along the underside.
“No,” Eunbi breathed. “No, no, no—it’s too big, it won’t fit, you can’t—”
“You’ll make it fit,” Zero said. “Get on the chair. Straddle her. Make her taste it first.”
You stepped out of your pants and moved toward her. Each footfall was a countdown. Eunbi’s eyes tracked your approach, wide and glassy, her lips parted on shallow, rapid breaths.
You climbed onto the vanity chair. Your knees bracketed her thighs. Your cock, jutting forward, hovered inches from her face.
She could smell you. You could tell from the way her nostrils flared, the way her throat worked. Musky. Saline. Animal.
“Open your mouth,” you said.
She shook her head.
“Dong-soo,” Zero said.
The big man stepped forward and pinched Eunbi’s nose between his thumb and forefinger, cutting off her air. She held out for ten seconds. Fifteen. Then her mouth opened on a desperate gasp, and you pushed your cock between her lips before she could close them again.
The sensation hit you like a fist.
Wet. Hot. Silken. Her tongue, soft and involuntary, pressed against the underside of your shaft. Her lips stretched around your girth, the corners of her mouth going white with the strain. Her jaw worked uselessly, trying to accommodate something far too large.
“Glrrk—” The sound came from deep in her throat, half-choke, half-moan.
“Take it deeper,” you heard yourself say. The words felt foreign, like someone else speaking through your mouth. “You’ve taken everything else from us. Now take this.”
You pushed.
Another inch disappeared into her mouth. Her eyes bulged. Her throat convulsed around your cockhead, the muscles spasming in rhythmic waves. The sensation was obscene—tight and wet and clenching, her gag reflex fighting you with every millimeter.
“Fuck,” Dong-soo grunted. He’d released her nose and was now stroking himself through his pants, eyes fixed on her distended throat.
Saliva began to pool at the corners of her mouth. It spilled over, tracing thick rivulets down her chin, dripping onto her bare breasts. Your cock pistoned in and out, each thrust going slightly deeper, each withdrawal coated in more of her spit.
Eunbi’s hands, still bound to the armrests, clenched and unclenched. Her throat worked frantically. The sounds she made—wet, choking, desperate—filled the dressing room like a perverse soundtrack.
You pulled out. A bridge of saliva connected your cockhead to her bottom lip, stretching, then breaking.
She gasped for air, chest heaving, breasts bouncing with each ragged inhalation. Her face was a mess—tears, saliva, smeared mascara. But beneath all of it, beneath the fear and the shame and the desperation, you saw something flicker in her eyes.
Hunger.
It was gone as quickly as it appeared, buried under layers of denial. But it had been there. You were certain of it.
“Again,” Zero commanded. “And this time, don’t stop until you’re touching her tonsils.”
You grabbed a fistful of her damp hair and pulled her head back. Her throat arched, vulnerable, exposed. You lined your cock up with her lips—swollen now, reddened, already looking thoroughly used—and pushed.
This time she opened for you without being forced.
It was a small surrender. Barely perceptible. But as your cock slid past her tongue, past her soft palate, into the tight clench of her throat, you felt her jaw relax. Felt her tongue move—not just yielding, but pressing, tasting, exploring the underside of your shaft.
You groaned.
Zero noticed too. “She’s learning. Good girl, Eunbi-ssi. Good fucking girl.”
Your hips found a rhythm. Not gentle—there was no gentleness left in you—but steady, relentless, each thrust driving your cock deeper into her throat until your balls pressed against her chin. Her nose flattened against your pubic bone. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but take it.
And take it she did.
Her throat milked you with every withdrawal, the suction obscene, the sounds—gulk, glrk, hnnngh—echoing off the walls. Her eyes rolled back, showing white. Her bound hands stopped clenching and went limp.
“She’s close to passing out,” Ho-jin observed. “Oxygen saturation dropping.”
“Let her,” Zero said. “She’ll come back.”
You pulled out just as her eyelids fluttered.
Eunbi collapsed forward, gasping, drool pouring from her mouth onto her thighs. Her whole body shuddered. Her breasts heaved. She made a sound—half-sob, half-moan—that seemed to come from somewhere primal and broken.
“Please,” she rasped. “Please, I can’t—I can’t take any more—”
“That’s not true,” you said. And the words tasted like ash and honey on your tongue. “You just took all of me. Every inch. Down your throat. And you’re still here. Still breathing. Still—” you gripped her chin, tilting her face up to meet your gaze “—wet.”
Her eyes widened.
She knew it was true. You could see the knowledge crash over her like a wave—the realization that somewhere between the choking and the tears and the degradation, her thighs had become slick with more than just saliva. Her cunt was dripping now, the inner lips swollen and parted, the entrance visibly pulsing with a need she refused to name.
“No,” she whispered. But the word had lost its conviction. It was a reflex now, not a refusal.
“Enough oral,” Zero said. “Dong-soo. You’re next. Fuck her cunt while she’s still wet from the throat-fucking.”
Dong-soo didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped forward, already unbuckling his pants. When his cock emerged, Eunbi’s face went slack with horror.
It was massive.
Thick as a wrist, long enough to reach her cervix and then some. He couldn’t even fully hold it in one hand—when he gripped the base, both fists wrapped around the shaft with room to spare, the purple head still protruding, leaking a thick bead of pre-cum that dripped onto the floor.
“That’s—that’s not going to fit,” Eunbi stammered. “You’ll tear me apart. You’ll—I’m not—it’s impossible—”
“It’ll fit,” Dong-soo said. His voice was calm. Matter-of-fact. “They always fit eventually.”
He grabbed her by the hips and lifted her off the chair, turning her around so that her bound hands were braced against the vanity, her ass presented to him. Her bound ankles forced her legs together, which only made the visual more obscene—her thighs pressed tight, her cunt lips peeking between them, already swollen and glistening from Min-seok’s fingers and her own betraying arousal.
Dong-soo positioned himself behind her. The head of his monster cock nudged against her entrance, a grotesque size comparison that made her look like a doll being mounted by something designed for a different species entirely.
“Please,” she begged. “Please, it’s too big. Please don’t. I’m not—I can’t—”
He pushed.
The head popped inside her.
Eunbi screamed.
It was a raw, ragged sound that tore from her throat and bounced off the walls. Her back arched. Her bound hands scrabbled at the vanity surface. Her inner walls, already tight around your cock, now stretched to accommodate something far beyond their design specs.
“Fuck,” Dong-soo grunted. “She’s strangling me. Strangling my fucking cock.”
He pushed deeper. Another inch. Another scream.
“You’re splitting me—you’re splitting me open—I can feel you in my stomach, please, please, it’s too much—”
Dong-soo’s response was to grab her hips and slam forward.
His entire length disappeared into her cunt.
Eunbi’s scream died in her throat. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, but no sound came out. Her eyes were wide, fixed on something in the middle distance, seeing nothing. A single tear slid down her cheek.
Then Dong-soo started moving.
The fucking was brutal. There was no other word for it. His hips pistoned with the force of a machine, each thrust driving his cock into her depths with a wet, meaty slap. The vanity shook. Her breasts, pressed against the cold surface, jiggled with each impact. Her bound hands scrambled for purchase, knocking over makeup containers, sending brushes clattering to the floor.
“Take it,” Dong-soo growled. “Take my fucking cock, you ungrateful bitch. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Financial freedom? Here’s your payment.”
He reached around and grabbed her breasts, twisting her nipples between his thick fingers. She bucked against him, a convulsive movement that was half-escape, half-embrace. Her cunt, despite the overstretching, despite the impossible fullness, was gushing now—fluid running down her thighs, coating Dong-soo’s balls, splattering the floor with each thrust.
“She’s creaming,” Young-chul reported from behind the camera, his voice tinged with something that might have been awe. “She’s actually creaming on his cock.”
“Because she’s a whore,” Zero said casually. “She always was. She just needed someone to strip away the pretense.”
Eunbi heard them. Her face, pressed against the vanity, went crimson. But she didn’t deny it. Couldn’t deny it. Not while her hips were pushing back to meet Dong-soo’s thrusts, not while her cunt was making sounds like wet applause, not while her mouth hung open on a moan that was no longer entirely pained.
“Harder,” she whispered.
Everyone heard it.
Dong-soo paused mid-thrust. “What was that?”
Eunbi squeezed her eyes shut. Her thighs trembled. Her cunt, stretched obscenely around his girth, clenched and fluttered.
“I said—harder. Fuck me harder.”
The room exploded with laughter. Not kind laughter—dark, knowing, cruel. Dong-soo grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back, forcing her spine into an impossible arch.
“Beg for it properly,” he said, his lips against her ear. “Tell me you need it. Tell me you’re a worthless cocksleeve who exists to be fucked.”
“I—I—” Her voice cracked. The words were there, dancing on her tongue, but saying them aloud would change something fundamental. Would make this real in a way it hadn’t been before.
Dong-soo pulled out until only the head remained inside her. Then he waited.
The emptiness was worse than the fullness. Eunbi’s cunt gaped, the stretched opening pulsing, desperate to be filled again. A whimper escaped her throat.
“Say it,” Dong-soo growled.
“I’m a worthless cocksleeve,” Eunbi sobbed. “I exist to be fucked. Please. Please fuck me. Please fill my cunt. I need it. I need it so bad.”
Dong-soo slammed back in.
The sound she made was not human. It was a wail of pure sensation, pain and pleasure fused into something beyond distinction. Her eyes rolled back. Her tongue lolled from her mouth. Her bound hands went slack, all resistance gone, her body surrendering completely to the rhythm of his thrusts.
“That’s it,” Zero murmured. “That’s what we came for.”
They used her for hours.
That was what it felt like, anyway. Time had become meaningless—measured only in the number of cocks she’d taken, the number of orgasms that had been ripped from her unwilling body. The dressing room clock on the wall still ticked, but no one was watching it anymore.
Dong-soo finished first, pulling out at the last second and painting her back with thick ropes of cum that splattered from her shoulders to the swell of her ass. Then Jae-hyun took his place, thinner but longer, his cockhead able to nudge against her cervix with every thrust. When she came on that—the first orgasm, a scream that left her throat raw—Zero made her thank him. Made her kiss his feet. Made her lick his balls while he jerked off into her hair.
Min-seok was next. He was gentler, almost tender, which somehow made it worse. He fucked her face while Jae-hyun recovered, her lips stretched around his cock, her throat bulging with each thrust. When he came, he did it deep—pumping his load directly into her stomach, holding her head in place until she’d swallowed every drop.
“Good girl,” he whispered, stroking her sweat-soaked hair. “You take it so well.”
Eunbi’s response was a whimper that sounded almost grateful.
Young-chul bent her over the vanity and took her from behind while Ho-jin filmed close-ups of her face—the tears, the drool, the way her eyes crossed when his cock hit something deep enough to make her vision blur. She came again on his cock, a messy, squirting orgasm that soaked the vanity and made her legs give out. Young-chul had to hold her up by the hips just to keep fucking her.
“You’re a fountain,” he laughed, breathless. “A fucking fountain. Does it feel good? Does my cock feel good in your ruined little cunt?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, yes, yes—”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, your cock feels good. Yes, my cunt is ruined. Yes, I’m a fountain. Yes, I love it. Yes, I love being fucked like this. Yes, I’m a whore. Yes, I’m your whore. Is that what you want to hear? Is that enough?”
She was babbling now, the words spilling out in a torrent, her mind struggling to keep pace with the sensations flooding her body. Each new cock brought a fresh wave of degradation. Each orgasm stripped away another layer of the idol she’d been.
By the time Kyung stepped forward—silent as ever, his expression unreadable—Eunbi was barely recognizable. Her hair was matted with sweat and cum. Her mascara had carved black trenches down her cheeks. Her lips were swollen, her throat bruised, her nipples dark and tender from a dozen mouths and fingers. Her cunt gaped, the lips puffy and parted, the entrance no longer a tight hole but a well-used passage that invited entry rather than resisted it.
Kyung, uniquely, didn’t fuck her cunt.
He turned her around, bent her over the chair, and spread her ass cheeks with both hands. The puckered ring of her asshole was pristine—the only part of her that hadn’t been violated yet.
“No,” Eunbi said. Some of the fire returned to her voice. “Not there. Not—please. Anything but that.”
“You said that about your throat,” Zero observed. “And your cunt. And look at you now.” He gestured at her glistening thighs, her swollen lips, the cum dripping from her chin. “You’ll love this too. Eventually.”
Kyung pressed his thumb against her asshole. The muscle clenched reflexively, trying to keep him out. He pushed harder. The tip of his thumb breached her, and Eunbi let out a strangled cry.
“No lube,” Ho-jin noted. “That’s going to be rough.”
“She’s wet enough,” Kyung said. It was the first time he’d spoken since you’d arrived. His voice was soft, almost gentle, which made the words more terrifying.
He withdrew his thumb and replaced it with his cock. Not as thick as Dong-soo’s, but substantial enough. The head, slick with her own juices, pressed against her forbidden entrance.
Eunbi’s hands, still bound, clawed at the chair. Her teeth clenched. Her whole body went rigid.
“Relax,” Kyung murmured. “It’ll hurt more if you fight.”
“I don’t—I can’t—”
He pushed.
The head popped past her sphincter.
Eunbi’s shriek was muffled by the chair cushion, but it still filled the room. Her asshole stretched around Kyung’s shaft, the rim whitening, the skin pulling taut. He gave her no time to adjust—just kept pushing, inch by agonizing inch, until his hips were flush against her ass.
“Full,” she choked out. “So full. I can feel you in my—I can feel you everywhere.”
Kyung started moving. Slow at first, then faster. The dry friction must have been painful, but Eunbi’s cries quickly shifted pitch—from agony to something more complicated. Her hips started pushing back. Her asshole, impossibly, started to relax.
“She’s taking it,” Jae-hyun said, disbelief coloring his voice. “She’s actually taking it up the ass.”
“They always take it,” Zero replied. “It just takes the right motivation.”
Kyung fucked her ass with the same silent intensity he brought to everything. His thrusts were deep, measured, relentless. Each one pushed a grunt from Eunbi’s lips. Each withdrawal left her asshole gaping slightly before the next thrust sealed it shut again.
You watched, stroking yourself idly, as another orgasm built inside her. You could see it in the way her back arched, the way her breath stuttered, the way her bound hands clenched into fists. When it hit, she didn’t scream. She sobbed—great, heaving sobs that shook her entire frame while her asshole spasmed around Kyung’s cock and her cunt gushed onto the floor.
He came inside her ass. You could tell from the way his thrusts stuttered, the way his jaw clenched, the way he pressed himself as deep as possible and held there, grinding, while Eunbi whimpered beneath him. When he finally pulled out, a thin stream of cum followed, dripping from her stretched hole onto the chair.
Her asshole didn’t close. It stayed open—a dark, gaping void that pulsed with her heartbeat, revealing the pink interior beyond.
“Beautiful,” Zero said. “Absolutely beautiful.”
You were inside her again.
You didn’t remember moving. Didn’t remember positioning her on her back on the floor, her bound wrists above her head, her legs hooked over your shoulders. But here you were, your cock buried to the hilt in her cunt, staring down into her tear-streaked, fuck-drunk face.
“You,” she breathed. “It’s you again.”
“It’s me.”
“The one who wrote the letter.”
“Yes.”
Her inner walls fluttered around your shaft. Even after everything—the stretching, the pounding, the brutal abuse—her cunt was still tight. Still hot. Still wet.
“You were my favorite fan,” she said. “I kept your letter. I still have it. In my nightstand. I read it when I can’t sleep.”
The words hit you like a punch to the chest.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to know.” Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “I want you to know that it mattered. I want you to know that it still matters. Even now. Even like this.”
You stared at her. The woman who’d broken your heart. The woman you’d helped destroy.
“Fuck me,” she said. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
You did.
Your hips drove forward, burying your cock as deep as it would go. The head nudged against her cervix, that tight ring of muscle that guarded her deepest chamber. You felt it give slightly, yielding to your pressure.
Eunbi’s eyes went wide. “You’re—you’re in my—”
“I know.”
You pushed harder. The cervix stretched, resisted, then—with a sensation like popping through a tight band—surrendered. Your cockhead slipped into her womb.
The sound Eunbi made had no name. It was beyond a scream, beyond a moan, beyond any vocalization you’d ever heard from a human throat. Her eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. Her tongue lolled from her mouth, thick with saliva. Her body convulsed, muscles locking and releasing in rapid waves, as an orgasm crashed through her with the force of a tidal wave.
“In my womb,” she babbled. “You’re in my womb. You’re fucking my womb. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god—”
You pulled back and thrust again. Cervical penetration. The ultimate violation. Her womb clenched around your cockhead like a second cunt, impossibly tight, impossibly hot. Each thrust pushed a fresh scream from her lips. Each withdrawal made her sob with emptiness.
“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please don’t stop. Please fuck my womb. Please breed me. Please. I need it. I need your cum in my womb. Please.”
The others gathered around, watching. Dong-soo stroked himself back to hardness. Young-chul filmed everything. Zero smiled his empty smile.
“That’s it, Eunbi-ssi,” he murmured. “That’s what we wanted. That’s the real you.”
You felt your orgasm building—a pressure at the base of your spine, a tightening in your balls. Your thrusts became erratic, desperate, driven by pure biological imperative.
“Inside,” Eunbi sobbed. “Come inside me. Come in my womb. Please. Please. I’m begging you. I’m fucking begging you.”
You buried yourself to the hilt, your cockhead nestled in her womb, and let go.
The orgasm was a detonation. Thick ropes of cum flooded her deepest chamber, pulse after pulse after pulse. You felt her womb expand with the volume of it, felt her inner walls milk your shaft for every last drop. She came with you—a final, shattering orgasm that left her limp and trembling, her face a mess of tears and drool and ecstatic surrender.
When you finally pulled out, your cum flowed from her gaped cunt in a white river, pooling on the floor beneath her ass. Her cervix was visible deep inside—bruised, swollen, but still pulsing with satisfaction.
She lay there, bound and broken and utterly spent.
And smiling.
“More,” she whispered, her cracked lips curving into something that was almost a grin. “I want more.”
Eunbi's grin didn't fade. It stretched wider, cracking the dried cum on her cheeks, exposing teeth that still held traces of your load from earlier. She pushed herself up on her bound hands, arms trembling, and fixed her eyes on Dong-soo's half-hard cock with an expression that could only be described as reverent.
"Let me," she rasped. "Let me taste him again."
Zero tilted his head. "You're asking now? Not begging?"
"I'm asking." Her voice steadied. "Because I want it. Not because you're making me."
The room went quiet. Young-chul lowered the camera an inch. Ho-jin's fingers paused on his keyboard. Even Kyung, still wiping his cock on a rag, stopped mid-motion.
Zero walked over to where she knelt and crouched, bringing his face level with hers. "Say that again."
"I want his cock in my mouth." Eunbi held his gaze. "I want to suck him until he's hard enough to fuck me again. I want to taste every inch. I want him to fuck my throat until I can't breathe." She licked her cracked lips. "I want all of you. Every hole. Every load. I don't care anymore. I just want more."
Zero's scarred eyebrow lifted. Then he laughed—a genuine sound, surprised and delighted. "There she is. The real Kwon Eunbi. Not hiding behind tears and pleas anymore." He stood and gestured at Dong-soo. "She's all yours. Give the whore what she's asking for."
Dong-soo stepped forward, his massive frame blocking the fluorescent light. His cock, even half-soft, was thicker than most men fully erect—a heavy slab of meat that swung between his thighs, the head still glistening from her earlier juices. He grabbed a fistful of her matted hair and pulled her face toward it.
"Open up," he grunted.
Eunbi didn't just open her mouth. She lunged.
Her lips wrapped around the head of his cock with a hunger that made your own dick twitch. She sucked hard, her cheeks hollowing, her tongue working the slit with quick, desperate flicks. Her bound hands came up to cradle his shaft—both hands, because one wasn't enough to hold him—and she stroked what wouldn't fit in her mouth with slow, worshipful movements.
"Fuck," Dong-soo breathed. "She's different now."
She was. The Eunbi from an hour ago had choked and gagged and fought every inch. This Eunbi was devouring him like she'd been starved for cock her entire life. Her jaw stretched wide to accommodate his girth, the corners of her lips going white, but she didn't stop. She pushed forward, taking him deeper, her throat bulging as the head pressed past her soft palate.
Saliva poured from her mouth, slicking her hands, dripping onto her bare breasts. She pulled back with a wet pop and kissed the tip—soft, reverent pecks that seemed almost absurd given the context. Then she dragged her tongue along the underside, tracing every vein, every ridge, before dipping lower to suck his balls into her mouth one at a time.
"Look at her," Young-chul murmured, the camera fixed on Eunbi's face. "She's in love with it."
"She's in love with being a whore," Zero corrected. "There's a difference."
Eunbi heard them. Her eyes flicked toward Zero, and instead of shame, instead of denial, she pulled off Dong-soo's balls with a wet slurp and smiled.
"Maybe I am," she said. "Maybe I always was. Maybe you were right." She turned back to Dong-soo's cock, now fully erect, a monstrous pillar of flesh that seemed too large to fit in any human orifice. "Now shut up and let me worship this fucking cock."
She took him back into her mouth.
This time she didn't stop. She pushed forward until her nose pressed against his pubic bone, until her throat was stretched around his shaft, until her chin touched his balls. She held there, not breathing, her eyes watering, her throat convulsing around him in rhythmic waves.
Dong-soo groaned. His thick fingers tangled in her hair, holding her in place. "That's it. Stay there. Fucking stay there."
Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty.
Eunbi's face went red, then purple. Her bound hands flailed, slapping against his thighs, but she didn't tap out. Didn't pull back. When he finally released her, she gasped back to life with a ragged inhale, drool pouring from her mouth in thick ropes.
"More," she croaked. "Fuck my throat. Please. Use me."
Dong-soo didn't need more encouragement. He grabbed her head with both hands and started fucking her face with brutal, piston-like thrusts. Each impact pushed a wet choke from her throat. Each withdrawal left her gasping for air. Her eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. Her tongue lolled from her mouth, coating her chin in spit.
You watched, your hand moving to your cock without conscious thought. It was hardening again, rising from your thigh despite the hours of abuse you'd already put it through. Something about seeing Eunbi like this—broken, eager, transformed—ignited a fresh pulse of arousal.
"Kyung," Zero said. "Get behind her. Fill that ass while she sucks."
Kyung stepped forward without a word. His cock was already hard again, slick with the remnants of his earlier load. He knelt behind Eunbi, positioning himself between her spread thighs, and lined up with her still-gaping asshole.
"Push back," he murmured. "Take me in."
Eunbi pulled off Dong-soo's cock just long enough to gasp, "Yes. Fuck yes. Fill my ass. Both holes. I need both holes filled." Then she swallowed Dong-soo again, taking him to the root in one desperate motion.
Kyung pushed forward. Her asshole offered no resistance—it was still stretched from his earlier fucking, the rim loose and welcoming. His cock slid in to the hilt with a wet squelch, and Eunbi moaned around Dong-soo's shaft, the vibration making him curse.
"Fuck, she's humming on my dick," Dong-soo grunted.
Kyung started moving. His thrusts were slow at first, deep and grinding, his hips pressing flush against her ass with each stroke. Then faster. Then harder. The sound of his pelvis slapping against her cheeks joined the wet choking sounds from her throat, creating a filthy percussion that echoed off the dressing room walls.
Eunbi was caught between them—Dong-soo's massive cock stretching her throat, Kyung's length reaming her ass—and she was loving every second. Her bound hands gripped Dong-soo's thighs for balance. Her hips pushed back to meet Kyung's thrusts. Her cunt, neglected for the moment, dripped onto the floor in a steady stream.
"Ho-jin," Zero said. "The toys. Get them."
Ho-jin looked up from his laptop. "Which ones?"
"The tentacle set. All five."
Your pulse quickened. You'd seen the bag earlier—a black duffel that Ho-jin had brought, filled with silicone implements that ranged from intimidating to impossible. The tentacle dildos were the worst of them: five ridged, tapered shafts in various sizes, each one modeled after some deep-sea nightmare, with suckers and nodules running along their curves.
Ho-jin retrieved the bag and unzipped it. The toys spilled onto the vanity counter with obscene thumps—purple silicone, blue silicone, black, green, a deep crimson that looked almost black in the fluorescent light. Each one was thicker at the base and tapered to a pointed tip, the suckers becoming more pronounced toward the thicker end.
"Perfect," Zero said. "Kyung, pull out."
Kyung withdrew his cock with a wet pop. Eunbi's asshole gaped behind him, a dark void that pulsed with her heartbeat, the pink interior visible, cum already leaking from the stretched rim.
"No," Eunbi whined. "No, don't stop. Why did you stop?"
"Because we're going to fill you properly," Zero said. "Dong-soo, keep her mouth occupied."
Dong-soo shoved his cock back between her lips, cutting off her protests. She sucked automatically, her eyes still wide and questioning.
Kyung picked up the first tentacle—the purple one, the smallest, though "small" was relative. It was still thicker than two fingers, its length covered in dime-sized suckers that would drag against her inner walls. He pressed the tapered tip against her asshole.
Eunbi tensed. A muffled sound escaped around Dong-soo's shaft.
"Relax," Kyung said softly. "You wanted all your holes filled. We're filling them."
He pushed.
The silicone slid into her ass with obscene ease. Her sphincter stretched around the first sucker, then the second, then the third, each ridge disappearing inside her with a wet slurp. When the base lodged against her cheeks, the tapered tip was visibly pressing against her lower belly—a faint bulge beneath her skin.
"One," Zero counted.
Eunbi moaned around Dong-soo's cock. Her thighs trembled. Her cunt gushed a fresh pulse of fluid onto the floor.
Kyung selected the second tentacle—blue, slightly thicker, with more pronounced suckers. He pressed it against her asshole alongside the first.
"Wait," Jae-hyun said, his voice uncertain. "Can she even—"
"She'll take it," Zero interrupted. "Won't you, Eunbi-ssi?"
She pulled off Dong-soo's cock just long enough to gasp, "Yes. Give it to me. Stretch me open. I want to feel them all."
Then she swallowed him again, deeper than before, her nose pressed flat against his pelvis.
Kyung pushed the second tentacle in.
The resistance was greater this time. Her asshole stretched wider, the rim going white, the skin pulling taut between the two silicone shafts. Eunbi's muffled scream vibrated through Dong-soo's cock, making him curse and grab her hair tighter. Her bound hands scrabbled at his thighs, nails leaving red lines.
But she didn't pull away.
The blue tentacle slid deeper, its suckers catching on her inner walls with wet clicking sounds. When it was fully seated, both toys lodged in her ass, her sphincter was stretched into an oval that seemed impossibly wide.
"Two," Zero said. "How's she doing, Ho-jin?"
"Heart rate elevated. Blood pressure spiking. But—" Ho-jin paused, squinting at his screen. "Endorphin levels are through the roof. She's not in distress. She's in ecstasy."
"I told you," Eunbi gasped, pulling off Dong-soo's cock. Her voice was wrecked, barely a whisper. "I told you I wanted more. Give me the rest. Give me all of them."
Her eyes were wild now—pupils blown wide, irises barely visible. Sweat plastered her hair to her forehead. Cum and saliva coated her chin and neck in a glistening sheen. She looked nothing like the idol who'd walked off that stage. She looked like something feral. Something hungry.
Something that would never be satisfied.
Kyung picked up the third tentacle—green, thicker still, its suckers arranged in spiraling patterns along the shaft. He pressed the tip against her stretched rim alongside the other two.
"No easing it in," Zero instructed. "Shove it."
Kyung shoved.
Eunbi screamed. Not a muffled scream this time—a full-throated wail that bounced off the walls and probably carried down the service corridor. Her asshole stretched beyond what seemed physically possible, the three silicone shafts forcing her sphincter into a triangle of strained flesh. The suckers on all three toys caught and dragged against each other, creating a sensation that must have been overwhelming—too much friction, too much stretch, too much everything.
"Three," Zero said. "You're doing so well, Eunbi-ssi. Halfway there."
"Halfway?" Jae-hyun's voice cracked. "You're putting all five in?"
"She said all her holes. She meant all her holes." Zero crouched beside Eunbi's trembling form. "Isn't that right?"
Eunbi couldn't answer. Her mouth hung open, drool dripping onto Dong-soo's cock, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her eyes were unfocused, staring at something in the middle distance. But when Zero asked the question, she nodded—a jerky, desperate motion.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes. More. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
Your cock was fully hard now, aching in your grip as you stroked yourself. The scene was hypnotic—Eunbi impaled on three tentacle dildos, her asshole stretched into a gaping void, her body trembling with something that looked equal parts agony and bliss. Dong-soo's massive cock still hovered at her lips, and she turned back to it automatically, sucking the head into her mouth with a hunger that hadn't diminished.
"Keep her mouth busy," Zero told Dong-soo. "She takes the toys better when she's choking on cock."
Dong-soo thrust back into her throat, and Kyung selected the fourth tentacle—black, the second-largest, its suckers large enough to leave visible impressions on her inner walls. He didn't wait. He pressed it against the stretched rim, angled it alongside the other three, and pushed with steady, unrelenting pressure.
Eunbi's body convulsed. Her hands, still bound, flew to her own tits, squeezing and twisting her nipples with brutal force. Her hips bucked, impaling herself further on the toys. The muffled sounds coming from around Dong-soo's cock were beyond words—animal noises, guttural and raw.
The fourth tentacle slid home with a wet squelch. Her asshole was now stretched around four silicone shafts of varying colors, the rim a thin band of whitened flesh, the suckers of each toy visible just inside the entrance. Her lower belly was visibly distended, the outlines of the toys pressing against her skin from the inside.
"Fuck," Young-chul breathed. His camera was inches from her ass, capturing every detail. "She's taking four. Four fucking tentacles in her ass."
"Four," Zero counted. "One more, Kyung. The crimson one. The big one."
The fifth tentacle was a monster. Thick as a forearm at the base, its surface covered in suckers and nodules and ridges, the tip tapered to a blunt point. Kyung lifted it with both hands, showing it to Eunbi before pressing it against her ruined hole.
"This one's going to hurt," he said, his soft voice carrying an edge of something darker. "Do you still want it?"
Eunbi pulled off Dong-soo's cock. A bridge of saliva connected her bottom lip to his shaft, stretching, breaking.
"I want it," she said. Her voice was raw. Wrecked. But absolutely certain. "I want to feel it in my stomach. I want to feel full. I want to feel like I'm being split apart. Put it in. Put all of it in. I don't care if it hurts. I don't care if I can't walk tomorrow. I just want to be full."
Zero smiled. "You heard her."
Kyung pressed the crimson tentacle against her asshole. The tip was thicker than the space remaining between the other four toys. He had to angle it carefully, working it into the tiny gap, the silicone sliding against the other shafts with wet squeaking sounds.
Eunbi's head fell back. Her mouth opened on a silent scream. Her fingers dug into her own breasts, nails leaving crescent marks in the soft flesh.
"Breathe," Kyung murmured. "Breathe through it."
She sucked in a ragged breath. Then another. Then—
He pushed.
The fifth tentacle breached her. Her asshole stretched wider than it had any right to, the rim now a thin white line barely visible between the five multicolored shafts. The suckers on all five toys caught and dragged against her inner walls, against each other, creating a symphony of obscene wet sounds. Her stomach bulged further, the outlines of the tentacles visible beneath her skin like something out of a body horror film.
Eunbi came.
The orgasm hit her like a bolt of lightning. Her entire body locked up, muscles seizing, back arching until you thought her spine might snap. A wail tore from her throat—not words, not even a scream, just pure primal sound. Her cunt, still untouched, gushed fluid in a powerful stream that splattered across the floor and hit Kyung's chest. She squirted again and again, her inner muscles convulsing around nothing, desperate for a cock that wasn't there.
"Fuck me," she sobbed. "Someone fuck my cunt. Please. I need a cock in my cunt. I need to be filled everywhere. Please please please—"
You moved before Zero could give the order. Your cock was already hard, already leaking, and her cunt was right there—swollen and dripping and desperate. You knelt between her spread thighs, lined up your shaft with her entrance, and thrust in to the hilt in one brutal motion.
Her inner walls clamped around you like a fist. Even after everything, after all the cocks and toys and brutal pounding, she was still tight. Still hot. Still wet. The pressure of the five tentacles in her ass pushed against your shaft through the thin wall of flesh separating her holes, creating a sensation unlike anything you'd ever felt—tight in a way that was almost painful, each thrust grinding the silicone against your cock from the other side.
"There," Eunbi gasped. "There. Fuck. Yes. Both holes. Both holes full. Don't stop. Don't ever stop."
Dong-soo grabbed her chin and turned her face back toward his cock. "You're not done with me either, whore. Open up."
She opened. He thrust back into her throat, and now she was truly filled—mouth stuffed with Dong-soo's monster cock, cunt impaled on your shaft, ass stretched around five tentacle dildos. Three points of penetration, each one brutal, each one pushing her further beyond anything she'd ever experienced.
You started fucking her in earnest. Your hips pistoned with short, sharp thrusts, the head of your cock nudging against her cervix with each stroke. The tentacles in her ass shifted with your movements, their suckers dragging against both your shaft and her inner walls, creating friction that bordered on overwhelming.
"Harder," Eunbi choked out around Dong-soo's cock. "Harder. Break me. Split me open. I don't care anymore. I just want to feel it. I want to feel everything."
The others gathered closer, watching. Young-chul's camera captured every angle—her stretched mouth, her bulging stomach, her cunt stretched around your cock, her ass impaled on five multicolored shafts. Ho-jin monitored her vitals, muttering numbers that no one listened to. Jae-hyun stroked himself openly, his eyes fixed on the spectacle. Min-seok watched with clinical detachment, though his hand had found its way into his pants.
Zero stood at the head of the scene, arms crossed, scarred eyebrow raised in satisfaction. "This is what happens when you strip away the pretense. This is what's underneath every idol, every celebrity, every person who thinks they're above the rest of us. Just flesh. Just hunger. Just need."
Eunbi heard him. Her eyes, wet and wild, flicked toward Zero. And she nodded.
She fucking nodded.
"More," Dong-soo grunted, his hips moving faster. "She's sucking harder. She's trying to swallow my fucking cock."
She was. Her throat worked frantically around his shaft, the muscles milking him with each thrust. Her tongue pressed against the underside, tracing veins and ridges. Her bound hands had moved from her own tits to his thighs, pulling him closer, encouraging him to go deeper.
Kyung, still behind her, grabbed the bases of the tentacle dildos and started fucking them in and out of her ass. Not just leaving them buried—actively thrusting them, all five at once, their suckers catching and dragging with each stroke. The sight was obscene beyond words: five silicone shafts of varying colors sliding in and out of her ruined asshole, her sphincter stretching and contracting around them, cum and lube and something darker leaking from the stretched rim.
"Look at her stomach," Young-chul said, zooming in. "You can see the toys moving. You can fucking see them."
You could. With each thrust of the tentacles, the outlines beneath her skin shifted and bulged, creating a grotesque puppet show of her own violation. The sight pushed something primal in your brain—disgust, arousal, fascination, all fused together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the next began.
You fucked her harder. Your cock slammed into her cervix with each stroke, the tight ring of muscle yielding slightly, then yielding more. You felt yourself starting to breach her womb again, the head of your cock slipping past that final barrier.
"In my womb," Eunbi gasped, pulling off Dong-soo's cock. "You're in my womb again. Fuck. Breed me again. Fill my womb with cum while my ass is full of toys. Please. Please. I need it. I need to be bred. I need to be overflowing."
"You hear that?" Zero said. "She's begging to be bred. The idol who didn't care about her fans is begging to be impregnated by one of them."
"I'm not an idol anymore," Eunbi sobbed. "I'm not anything anymore. I'm just holes. I'm just a body. Fill me. Use me. Breed me. I don't care. I just want to be full."
Dong-soo grabbed her chin and thrust back into her mouth, cutting off her babbling. Kyung increased his pace with the tentacles, the five shafts pistoning in and out of her ass with wet squelching sounds. And you—you buried yourself in her cunt, your cockhead nestled in her womb, and let your orgasm build.
It didn't take long.
The pressure at the base of your spine became a roar. Your balls drew up tight. Your thrusts became erratic, desperate, animal. Eunbi's inner walls clenched around you in rhythmic waves, her own orgasm building in tandem with yours.
"Inside," she tried to say around Dong-soo's cock. The word came out garbled but unmistakable. "Insiiiide—"
You came.
The first pulse of cum flooded her womb directly, painting her deepest chamber white. The second pulse was just as strong, then the third, then the fourth, each one pumping more seed into her already overflowing body. She came with you—her cunt clamping down, her asshole spasming around the tentacles, her throat constricting around Dong-soo's cock—a full-body orgasm that left her convulsing and sobbing and squirting onto the floor in a powerful gush that splattered your thighs and stomach.
Dong-soo pulled out of her mouth and grabbed his cock, stroking himself furiously. "Where do you want it, whore? Tell me where you want my cum."
"On my face," Eunbi gasped. "Paint my face. Mark me. Make me yours."
He roared and let go. Thick ropes of cum splattered across her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her lips. Pulse after pulse, more cum than seemed possible, coating her features in a white mask that dripped into her open mouth and down her chin. She caught what she could on her tongue, swallowing greedily, and what she couldn't catch, she wore like warpaint.
Kyung was next. He pulled the tentacles out of her ass one by one—the crimson first, then the black, then the green, then the blue, then the purple—each withdrawal producing a wet pop and a fresh gush of fluid from her ruined hole. When the last one came out, her asshole stayed open, a gaping void that revealed the pink interior beyond, her sphincter too exhausted to close.
"Fuck," Kyung breathed, and he shoved his cock into that void and pumped his own load deep into her bowels. His orgasm was silent—just a sharp exhale and a tightening of his jaw—but the way he ground against her, pressing as deep as possible, told you everything.
When he pulled out, cum leaked from her ass in a thick stream, pooling on the floor beneath her.
Eunbi collapsed forward. Her bound hands couldn't catch her, so she landed face-first on the linoleum, her cum-coated cheek pressing into the cold surface. Her body twitched and shuddered with aftershocks. Her holes—all three of them—leaked various fluids, creating a mixed puddle beneath her prone form.
She was utterly destroyed. Utterly used. Utterly satisfied.
And still, impossibly, she was smiling.
"More," she whispered, her cracked lips barely moving. "I can still feel emptiness. I need more."
Zero crouched beside her, tilting her chin up with one finger. "There is no more, Eunbi-ssi. We've used every hole. We've filled you with more cum and silicone than most women take in a lifetime. What else could you possibly want?"
Her eyes, glassy and unfocused, found yours. "Him. Again. I want him to fuck my ass. I want to feel his cock in my ass while I suck someone else. I want to be airtight. I want to be so full I can't think. I want to forget my name. I want to forget I was ever anything but this."
Your cock, still half-hard despite everything, twitched at her words.
Zero noticed. "She's insatiable. Completely broken. A mindless cock-hungry whore." He stood and gestured at you. "Well? She asked for you specifically. Are you going to disappoint her?"
You looked at Eunbi—cum-soaked, sweat-drenched, her holes gaping and leaking, her eyes pleading—and felt something shift inside you. The anger that had driven you here, the betrayal that had festered in your chest for weeks, was gone. In its place was something simpler. Something purer.
Hunger.
"Position her," you said. "Face down, ass up. Jae-hyun, get in front of her. She said airtight, so she's getting airtight."
Jae-hyun moved into position without hesitation, his thinner but longer cock already hard again. Dong-soo grabbed Eunbi by the hips and lifted her into a kneeling position, her bound hands braced against the floor, her ass presented to you like an offering. Her asshole was still gaping, still leaking Kyung's cum, the rim loose and welcoming.
"No condom," Eunbi breathed. "No lube. Just your cock. Just cum. Breed my ass like you bred my womb."
You knelt behind her, lining up your shaft with her ruined hole. Jae-hyun grabbed her hair and pulled her face toward his cock. She opened for him immediately, taking him deep without being told, her throat working to accommodate his length.
"Now," Zero said.
You thrust into her ass.
The sensation was different from her cunt—looser, sloppier, but somehow more obscene. The cum still inside her served as lubricant, allowing you to sink in to the hilt in one smooth motion. Your cock was surrounded by heat and wetness and the lingering stretch of the tentacles, her inner walls fluttering weakly around your shaft.
Eunbi moaned around Jae-hyun's cock. The sound was muffled but unmistakably pleased.
You started fucking her with long, slow strokes, each thrust pushing a fresh grunt from her throat. Jae-hyun matched your rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of her mouth in tandem with your thrusts. She was truly airtight now—mouth stuffed, ass filled, cunt still dripping and neglected between her thighs.
"She needs something in her cunt too," Dong-soo said. He picked up one of the tentacles—the purple one, still slick with her fluids—and shoved it into her empty pussy without ceremony.
Eunbi's scream was swallowed by Jae-hyun's cock.
The three points of penetration drove her higher, her body convulsing with what was either another orgasm or the aftershocks of the last one. Her bound hands clawed at the floor. Her toes curled. Her muffled moans became a continuous stream of sound that vibrated through Jae-hyun's shaft.
"Fuck, she's humming again," Jae-hyun gasped. "She's going to make me come."
"Then come," Zero said. "Fill her throat. She's not done swallowing loads."
Jae-hyun thrust deep and held there, his cock buried in her throat, and came. Eunbi swallowed around him, her throat milking his shaft for every drop, her eyes rolling back in something that looked almost like bliss. When he pulled out, she licked her lips, chasing the taste.
"More," she rasped. "Who's next? Who else wants to fuck my throat? My ass? My cunt? I can take all of you. All at once. I want to be drowning in cum. I want to be dripping from every hole. I want—"
Dong-soo's cock, fully hard again, silenced her. He didn't ask permission. He just shoved his monster shaft between her lips and started fucking her face with the same brutal intensity he'd used on her cunt. Her throat bulged around his girth. Her jaw stretched to its absolute limit. Her eyes watered and her nose ran and she couldn't breathe.
And she loved every second.
Your own orgasm was building again, the tight heat of her ass pulling you toward release. You grabbed her hips and fucked her harder, your balls slapping against her cunt with each thrust, the tentacle still lodged in her pussy shifting with each impact. Her asshole, loose as it was, still gripped your shaft with residual tightness, the stretched rim catching on your head with each withdrawal.
"Going to come," you grunted. "Going to fill your ass."
"Mmm-hmm," Eunbi hummed around Dong-soo's cock. The vibration pushed him over the edge, and he came with a roar, pumping his load directly into her stomach for the second time that night.
You came a heartbeat later. Your cum flooded her bowels, joining Kyung's earlier load and the residual fluids from the tentacles. You pumped until your balls ached, until there was nothing left to give, until her ass was so full that cum leaked around your shaft with each pulse.
When you pulled out, her asshole stayed open—a gaping, cum-filled void that pulsed with her heartbeat. The tentacle in her cunt slipped out with a wet plop. Her mouth hung open, Dong-soo's cum dripping from her lips onto the floor.
She was a mess. A ruin. A masterpiece of degradation.
And she was still smiling.
"More," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please. More. I can still feel empty. I need—"
"Enough," Zero said. His voice wasn't harsh. It was almost gentle. "You've taken enough for one night, Eunbi-ssi. More than enough."
He crouched beside her, tilting her chin up with one finger. Her eyes, glassy and unfocused, tried to meet his.
"You're not an idol anymore," he told her. "You're not a celebrity. You're not even the woman who made that stupid comment about her fans. You're something new now. Something we made together." He wiped a streak of cum from her cheek with his thumb. "How does that feel?"
Eunbi's smile stretched wider. Cum dripped from her teeth. Tears and drool and sweat streaked her face. Her holes gaped and leaked and pulsed. Everything about her was obscene.
Everything about her was honest.
"It feels," she said, her ruined voice barely a whisper, "like freedom."
Eunbi's whisper still hung in the air when Zero clapped his hands together, the sharp crack cutting through the humid silence of the dressing room.
"Not yet," he said. "You don't get to tap out. You don't get to rest." He nudged her hip with the toe of his shoe. "Roll over."
She couldn't. Her bound wrists and ankles made the motion clumsy, a graceless flopping that left her on her back in the puddle of mixed cum, her gaped holes leaking onto the linoleum. The fluorescent lights cast her in harsh white—every bruise, every smear of mascara, every swollen lip and stretched rim laid bare for the camera Young-chul still held steady.
"Look at her," Dong-soo grunted. He was half-hard again, his monster cock twitching against his thigh as he stared down at her ruined body. "She's still hungry. I can see it in her eyes."
He wasn't wrong. Eunbi's gaze, glassy and unfocused as it was, tracked toward your cock with the single-minded intensity of a predator. Her tongue—thick, coated white—slid across her cracked lips.
"Him," she rasped. "Just him this time. Alone."
Zero's scarred eyebrow lifted. "You're making demands now?"
"Requests." A ghost of her old smile flickered across her cum-streaked face. "I'm making requests. I want him to fuck me like he means it. Like he's not angry anymore. Like he—" Her voice cracked. "Like he still loves me. Just a little. Just for a moment."
The room went quiet.
You felt every pair of eyes turn toward you. Dong-soo's expression was unreadable. Jae-hyun looked away, jaw tight. Min-seok cleaned his glasses with shaking fingers. Kyung, silent as ever, tilted his head like a bird examining something curious.
And Zero—Zero was watching you with that empty smile, waiting to see what you'd do.
"She wants you," he said. "The fan who wrote the letter. The one whose father died. The one who cried when IZ*ONE disbanded." He gestured at her prone form. "She wants that person back. Just for a moment. Can you give her that?"
Your feet carried you forward before your brain caught up.
Eunbi's eyes followed you, wet and wide and terrifyingly hopeful. You knelt beside her, your knees pressing into the sticky mess on the floor, and reached for the silk restraints around her wrists.
"Leave them," Zero said.
"I'm not asking permission."
You worked the knots loose. The silk fell away, revealing the red marks they'd left on her skin. Her hands, when you took them in yours, were cold. Trembling. She flexed her fingers, staring at them like she'd forgotten she had hands at all.
"My legs too," she whispered. "Please. If you're going to—if this is really going to be different—I want to hold you. I want to feel like a person again."
You untied her ankles.
She didn't run. Didn't even try. Just lay there, naked and ruined and covered in the evidence of everything that had been done to her, and waited for you to decide what came next.
"Camera's still rolling," Young-chul said.
"Let it roll." You didn't look at him. Your eyes stayed on Eunbi's face—on the way her expression shifted as she realized you weren't going to hurt her. Weren't going to degrade her. Weren't going to treat her like the hole she'd begged to become. "This one's different."
"How touching," Zero murmured. But there was something in his voice—curiosity, maybe, or the satisfaction of a man watching his experiment yield unexpected results. "Go on, then. Show us how a fan fucks his idol when he's not angry anymore."
Eunbi reached up.
Her fingers, still unsteady, touched your cheek. Traced the line of your jaw. Brushed a strand of sweat-soaked hair from your forehead. The gesture was so gentle, so human, that it made your chest ache.
"You kept my letter," you said.
"In my nightstand." Her voice was barely audible. "I wasn't lying. I read it when I can't sleep. When the anxiety gets bad. When I feel like I'm disappearing behind the idol mask and no one sees the real me anymore." She swallowed hard. "I read your letter and I remember that I mattered to someone. That I made a difference. Even when I said stupid, cruel things in interviews because I was exhausted and frustrated and not thinking."
"You broke my heart."
"I know." Tears welled in her eyes—fresh ones, not the fucked-out weeping from before. Real tears. "I know I did. And I can't undo it. But I can—right now, in this moment—I can be the person you thought I was. Just for you. Just for this."
You kissed her.
It was the first kiss of the night. The first one that wasn't forced or brutal or transactional. Her lips were swollen, split in one corner, tasting of salt and cum and something metallic. But she kissed you back with a tenderness that seemed impossible given everything that had happened—her mouth soft, her tongue tentative, her fingers threading through your hair like you were something precious.
"Fuck," Dong-soo muttered. "This is weird."
"Shut up," Min-seok said quietly. "Just—shut up and watch."
Your hands moved to her body. Not grabbing. Not claiming. Just touching. Your palm settled on her hip, feeling the bone beneath the skin, the tremor of exhausted muscles. Your other hand cupped her breast—bruised now, marked by teeth and fingers, but still soft. Still warm. Still responding when your thumb brushed her nipple.
She arched into your touch. A small sound escaped her throat, not quite a moan, not quite a sob.
"Missionary," she whispered against your lips. "I want to see your face. I want to watch you while you're inside me. I want—I want to remember this. Whatever happens after, whatever they do with the footage, whatever I become—I want to remember this."
You positioned yourself between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around your waist—no restraints now, just her own choice, her own desire. Her heels pressed into the small of your back, urging you closer.
Your cock, hard again despite everything, nudged against her entrance. Her cunt was a mess—swollen, gaped, leaking the cum of three different men. But when the head of your shaft pressed against her, she gasped and her inner muscles fluttered in anticipation.
"Slow," she breathed. "Please. Slow this time."
You pushed in.
The sensation was different from before. Before, it had been about dominance—forcing your way into her, claiming territory, extracting revenge. Now it was about connection. Her cunt, loose from hours of abuse, still gripped your shaft with residual tightness. Still hot. Still wet. Still welcoming.
You sank in to the hilt and held there, letting her feel the fullness, letting her adjust.
Eunbi's eyes never left yours. Her hands came up to frame your face, thumbs tracing your cheekbones, fingers curling behind your ears. Her lips parted on a trembling exhale.
"You're crying," she said.
You were. You hadn't noticed until she pointed it out, but there were tears tracking down your cheeks—hot and unexpected and utterly unstoppable. The anger that had driven you here, the betrayal that had festered for weeks, the cruelty you'd inflicted on this woman, the things you'd watched and participated in—it all hit you at once, a tidal wave of emotion that left you shaking.
"I'm sorry," you choked out. "I'm so fucking sorry."
"I know." She pulled your face down to hers, pressing her forehead against your brow. "I know you are. I'm sorry too. We're both—we're both so fucking broken. But right now—right now, just move. Just feel. Just be here with me."
You moved.
Your hips rolled in slow, deep strokes, each thrust pushing your cock to the very depths of her cunt. The head nudged against her bruised cervix, and she whimpered, but she didn't tell you to stop. Her legs tightened around your waist. Her fingers dug into your shoulders. Her breath came in shaky gasps that matched your rhythm.
"Fuck," Young-chul muttered from behind the camera. "They're actually—this is actually intimate."
"Told you to shut up," Min-seok said.
Eunbi's body responded to you in ways it hadn't with the others. Her cunt grew wetter—not the forced lubrication of degradation, but genuine arousal. Her inner walls clenched and released in waves that seemed to pull you deeper. Her hips rose to meet your thrusts, her movements growing more confident, more eager.
"Harder," she breathed. "You can go harder. I want to feel you. I want to feel everything."
You increased your pace. The wet sounds of your fucking filled the room, but they were different now—less brutal, more rhythmic. Your balls slapped against her ass with each thrust, the impact sending ripples through her cum-slicked thighs. Her breasts bounced with the motion, the nipples dark and hard, still glistening with someone's spit.
She pulled your mouth back to hers. The kiss was deeper this time—hungrier. Her tongue slid against yours, and you tasted the salt of her tears and the bitter residue of the loads she'd swallowed. It should have been disgusting. Instead, it was the most intimate thing you'd ever experienced.
"Tell me," she gasped, breaking the kiss. "Tell me what you're feeling."
"I'm feeling—" Your voice caught. "I'm feeling like I'm fucking the woman I loved. The woman I still love. The woman who broke my heart and somehow still has it."
"I still have it?"
"You still have it."
She sobbed—a broken, desperate sound—and pulled you deeper. Her heels pressed harder into your back. Her cunt clamped around your shaft like she was trying to milk you, trying to keep you inside her forever.
"Come inside me," she begged. "Not because they're watching. Not because you want to degrade me. Because you want to. Because you still love me. Even a little. Even just for now."
Your thrusts grew erratic. The pressure at the base of your spine built and built, a roaring wave that threatened to engulf you. But you held back—held on—because you didn't want this moment to end. Didn't want to lose the connection you'd found in the wreckage of what you'd done to her.
"Not yet," you grunted. "Not in missionary. I want—I want to be deeper. I want to be as deep as possible when I fill you."
Eunbi's eyes, still glassy, still wet, sparkled with something that might have been recognition. "Mating press. Put me in a mating press. Fold me in half and fuck my womb. Breed me properly. Make me yours."
You pulled out. Her cunt made a wet, sucking sound, reluctant to release you. You grabbed her legs and pressed them back—knees to her chest, ankles over your shoulders, her ass lifted off the floor. The position was obscene. Her gaped cunt was fully exposed, the swollen lips parted, the entrance visibly pulsing. Her asshole, still stretched from the tentacles, winked beneath.
"Beautiful," Zero murmured. "Absolutely fucking beautiful."
"Shut up," Eunbi said. It was the first time she'd spoken to him directly since the shift. "This isn't for you. This isn't about you. This is about us."
Zero's smile flickered. For the first time all night, something other than satisfaction crossed his angular features. But he didn't interrupt.
You lined your cock up with her entrance and pushed.
The angle was different—steeper, deeper. You felt the head of your shaft hit her cervix immediately, that tight ring of muscle that guarded her womb. But this time, instead of battering against it, you nudged through. The cervix stretched, yielded, and your cockhead slipped into her deepest chamber with a sensation like breaking through a sealed door.
Eunbi screamed.
It wasn't a scream of pain. It was a scream of absolute, overwhelming sensation—the kind of sound that came from a place beyond language, beyond thought, beyond anything but pure physical response. Her eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. Her tongue lolled from her mouth. Her hands, no longer bound, flew to your shoulders and clawed deep furrows into your skin.
"In my womb," she babbled. "You're in my womb. You're so deep. You're so fucking deep. I can feel you in my stomach. I can feel you everywhere."
You started fucking her—not the brutal, piston-like thrusts from before, but deep, grinding strokes that kept your cockhead nestled in her womb. Each movement pushed a fresh sound from her lips. Each withdrawal left her gasping with emptiness. Her stomach bulged with each thrust, the outline of your shaft visible beneath her skin—a sight that made Young-chul zoom in, that made Dong-soo curse under his breath, that made Zero's smile return in full force.
"I can see you," Eunbi moaned. "I can see your cock moving inside me. Look. Look at what you're doing to me. Look at how deep you are."
You looked. You couldn't help it. The visual was hypnotic—your shaft disappearing into her swollen cunt, the faint bulge in her lower belly shifting with each stroke, her body literally reshaping itself around your intrusion.
"You're fucking my womb," she continued, her voice cracking with every word. "You're breeding me. Actually breeding me. I can feel your cockhead pressing against the walls of my uterus and I—I'm going to come. I'm going to come so fucking hard. Please. Please come with me. Fill my womb. Flood it. Make me overflow."
The pressure in your balls became unbearable. Your thrusts lost their rhythm, became desperate, animal, driven by pure biological imperative. Eunbi's cunt clamped around you in rhythmic waves, her own orgasm building in tandem with yours.
"Now," she sobbed. "Now now now now—"
You buried yourself to the hilt and let go.
The orgasm was a detonation. Thick ropes of cum flooded her womb, pulse after pulse after pulse, each one making her stomach bulge slightly more. You felt her uterus expand with the volume of it, felt her inner walls milk your shaft for every last drop, felt her own orgasm crash through her in response—her cunt spasming, her asshole clenching, her throat releasing a wail that bounced off the dressing room walls.
"Fuck," Jae-hyun breathed. "She's coming again. She's still coming."
She was. Her orgasm seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of convulsive pleasure that left her thrashing and sobbing and squirting a clear fluid that splattered your stomach and thighs. Her cunt gushed around your still-buried cock, the fluid mixing with your cum and leaking onto the floor in a steady stream.
When it finally subsided, she lay limp beneath you, chest heaving, face streaked with tears and drool and the drying remnants of a dozen loads. Her eyes, when they focused on your face, held something you couldn't name.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for that."
You pulled out. Your cum flowed from her gaped cunt in a white river, pooling on the floor beneath her ass. Her cervix was visible deep inside—bruised, swollen, but still pulsing with satisfaction. Her womb, now thoroughly flooded, left her lower belly slightly distended.
Zero started laughing.
It wasn't his usual controlled chuckle. This was something else—something genuine, something surprised, something almost joyful. He clapped his hands together as the laughter rolled through him, and the others joined in—Dong-soo's deep guffaw, Young-chul's nervous giggle, even Kyung's silent, shaking shoulders.
"This tape," Zero managed, wiping a tear from his eye. "This footage. Everything we captured tonight—the degradation, the surrender, the tentacles, the gaping, and then this—this twisted, beautiful, fucked-up love scene at the end." He grinned, and for once, the expression reached his eyes. "This tape is gonna be fucking expensive."
"Millions," Ho-jin agreed, his clinical detachment cracking into something almost like enthusiasm. "If we release this—and we control the distribution, staggered releases, premium access—we could make millions. Maybe tens of millions."
"Or we could sell it back to her agency," Min-seok said quietly. "They'd pay anything to keep this from going public."
Eunbi heard them. Her gaze flickered toward Zero, and instead of fear, instead of shame, something else crossed her exhausted features.
"You're going to blackmail me," she said. It wasn't a question.
"We're going to leverage an asset," Zero corrected. "There's a difference."
"You're going to own me."
"Legally? No. Practically?" He spread his hands. "You said it yourself. You're not an idol anymore. You're something new. Something we made together. And what we made—" he nodded at Young-chul's camera, at the hours of footage it contained "—has value. Immense value."
Eunbi was quiet for a long moment. Her cum-streaked face was unreadable. Then, slowly, she pushed herself up onto her elbows. Cum leaked from her cunt onto the floor. Drool still glistened on her chin. Her ruined holes gaped and pulsed. Everything about her was obscene.
But her eyes—her eyes were clear.
"You're wrong," she said.
Zero's smile flickered. "About what?"
"About owning me. About this footage having value." She pushed herself further up, until she was sitting, until she was looking at him eye-to-eye despite her nakedness, despite her degradation, despite everything. "I'm not going to be blackmailed. I'm not going to be controlled. You think you broke me? You think you made me into something you can use?"
She stood.
Her legs were unsteady. Her body was a ruin. But she stood, and she faced them—all seven of them—with a steadiness that seemed impossible given what she'd endured.
"You didn't break me. You freed me. You stripped away the idol mask, the public persona, the constant pressure to be perfect and grateful and untouchable. And what's underneath?" She gestured at her own body—the bruises, the cum, the gaped holes. "This is underneath. A woman who likes being fucked. A woman who likes being degraded. A woman who begged for more and meant it. That's not a weakness. That's not something you can use against me. That's a truth I've been hiding from myself for years."
Zero's smile had disappeared entirely. His scarred eyebrow was a hard line. His jaw was tight.
"So release the footage," Eunbi continued. "I don't care. Release it, and I'll go on every talk show in Korea and tell them exactly what happened. Tell them I enjoyed it. Tell them I begged for more. Tell them it was the most honest I've ever been in my entire career." She took a step toward him, and despite everything—despite his power, his planning, his control—he took a step back. "You wanted the real me. Congratulations. You found her. And you have no idea what to do with her."
Silence.
Then Zero laughed—a different laugh this time. Sharper. Darker. The laugh of a man who'd been outplayed at his own game.
"Interesting," he said. "Very interesting." He looked at you. "She's remarkable. I can see why you loved her."
"Still do," you said. The words came out before you could stop them.
Eunbi turned to look at you. Her expression was complicated—gratitude, confusion, something that might have been hope. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to.
"Take her home," Zero said abruptly. "Clean her up. Let her rest. We'll discuss the footage later." He pocketed his phone and headed for the door. "Consider this a gift. You broke her. You put her back together. She's yours now. Do what you want with her."
The others followed him out—Dong-soo with a last, lingering look at Eunbi's body, Young-chul still filming until Ho-jin tapped his shoulder, Kyung silent as a ghost, Min-seok pausing at the door.
"I'm sorry," he said, not meeting Eunbi's eyes. "For what I did. For what I said. I was—I was so angry. I forgot you were a person."
"I know," Eunbi said. Her voice was gentle. "I forgot too."
Min-seok nodded once and left.
The door clicked shut.
You and Eunbi were alone in the dressing room. The fluorescent lights hummed. The distant thump of the festival's closing acts vibrated through the walls. Somewhere, fifty thousand people were cheering for an encore, oblivious to everything that had happened thirty meters away.
"I meant what I said," Eunbi said quietly. "About the letter. About reading it when I can't sleep. About you being my favorite fan."
"I know."
"I also meant what I said about liking this." She gestured at her body—the cum, the bruises, the evidence of everything that had been done to her. "I didn't think I would. I thought I'd hate it. I thought I'd feel violated. But somewhere in the middle of everything—somewhere between choking on Dong-soo's cock and having those tentacles shoved in my ass—something snapped. Something good. Something that had been wound too tight for too long finally broke, and underneath it was just—hunger. Pure, unfiltered hunger. And it felt like freedom."
You pulled your pants on. Found your shirt. Grabbed a towel from the vanity and held it out to her.
"Let's get you cleaned up."
She took the towel. Her fingers brushed yours, and the contact sent a shiver through both of you.
"And then what?" she asked.
"And then we figure out what comes next."
She wiped the cum from her face—slow, methodical strokes that left streaks on the towel. When she looked up at you again, some of the exhaustion had faded. Some of the fire had returned.
"Promise me something," she said.
"Anything."
"Promise me you'll still be my fan. Even after tonight. Even after everything you've seen me do. Even after everything you've done to me. Promise me you'll still be the person who wrote that letter."
Your throat tightened. "I promise."
She nodded. Wrapped the towel around herself. Took a shaky step toward the door.
"Good," she said. "Because I think I'm going to need a fan like you. Someone who sees the real me and doesn't run away. Someone who knows what I am and still—" Her voice cracked. "Still thinks I matter."
"Matter," you said, stepping forward to steady her as her legs wobbled. "Eunbi-ssi, you're the only thing that's ever mattered."
She leaned into you. Her weight was slight, her body trembling with exhaustion, but her grip on your arm was fierce.
"Take me home," she whispered. "Please. Take me home."
You did.
The festival was still raging outside. Music pounded. Crowds roared. Lights strobed across the Seoul skyline. But in the service corridor, in the quiet space between the dressing room and the exit, you walked with Eunbi's arm around your shoulder and her cum-streaked hair brushing your cheek. Behind you, the dressing room sat empty—the only evidence of what had happened there the puddles on the floor, the discarded silk restraints, the five multicolored tentacle dildos still glistening on the vanity.
And somewhere, in a van pulling out of the loading dock, six men sat with a camera full of footage and no idea what to do with it. Zero's laughter had stopped. His smile had faded. His plan—so carefully constructed, so meticulously executed—had crumbled in the face of a woman who refused to be broken.
Because Eunbi was right. They hadn't broken her.
They'd freed her.
And the real Kwon Eunbi—cum-soaked, hole-gaped, psychologically cracked open but spiritually whole—was more dangerous than the idol had ever been.
The service door opened onto the night. Cool air hit your face. The stars, dimmed by Seoul's light pollution, still managed to glitter overhead. Eunbi tilted her head back to look at them, and for the first time all night, her smile was soft. Real. Unguarded.
"Freedom," she murmured, and the word tasted different now. Not the desperate, broken whisper from before. Something steadier. Something true.
You hailed a taxi. The driver took one look at Eunbi—disheveled, towel-wrapped, clearly not in any state to be out in public—and wisely said nothing. The address she gave wasn't her agency dorm or her luxury apartment. It was somewhere else. Somewhere you didn't recognize.
"Where are we going?" you asked.
"My real home," she said. "The one the company doesn't know about. The one I bought with my own money, not their contracts." She leaned her head against your shoulder. "I keep your letter there. In my nightstand. I want you to see it."
The taxi pulled into traffic. Seoul slid past the windows—neon and concrete and crowds of people who had no idea that Kwon Eunbi, headliner of Waterbomb Seoul 2026, was currently leaking cum onto the backseat of a Hyundai while wearing nothing but a towel and a smile.
"When we get there," she said, her voice drowsy, "I want you to fuck me again. In my bed. In my sheets. No cameras. No audience. Just you and me and whatever this is between us."
"And if I'm too tired?"
She laughed—a genuine laugh, surprised and bright. "Then I'll fuck you. I've learned a few things tonight. I think I can manage."
The driver's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. You caught his gaze and shrugged.
"She's had a long night," you said.
He turned his attention back to the road.
Eunbi's hand found yours. Her fingers interlaced with yours, sticky and warm. She closed her eyes, and within minutes, her breathing evened out. She was asleep—or close to it—her body finally surrendering to the exhaustion that had been held at bay by adrenaline and arousal and sheer force of will.
You watched her sleep. Watched the rise and fall of her chest beneath the towel. Watched the bruises darkening on her throat and shoulders. Watched the ghost of a smile that lingered on her swollen lips.
Somewhere in the van driving in the opposite direction, Zero was probably already formulating a new plan. Dong-soo was probably already thinking about the next time he could get his hands on Eunbi's body. Young-chul was probably already reviewing footage, cataloging angles, calculating value.
But here, in this taxi, in this moment, none of that mattered.
What mattered was the woman asleep on your shoulder—the idol who'd broken your heart and the whore who'd put it back together. The fantasy you'd worshipped and the reality you'd helped create. The letter in her nightstand and the cum dripping down her thigh.
What mattered was that she'd asked you to stay.
What mattered was that you intended to.
The taxi turned down a quiet street, away from the neon and the crowds, toward a part of Seoul you'd never seen. Toward a home that wasn't on any company registry. Toward a bed where Kwon Eunbi—not the idol, not the brand, not the broken doll of Zero's creation—would pull you down beside her and whisper your name like it meant something.
Toward whatever came next.
And in the dark of the taxi, with her hand in yours and her breath steady against your neck, you realized you were smiling too.
The silence of my room at six in the morning had a dead weight to it, a freezing atmosphere that seemed to suck away any trace of warmth before I could even feel it. I stood in front of the vanity mirror, staring at my reflection with a blank, almost mechanical gaze. At this hour, before the world knew me as Professor Eunbi, I was nothing more than a body trapped in constant tension, a woman fighting a silent war against her own anatomy.
Naked, the pale light of dawn highlighted the almost unreal whiteness of my skin and the overwhelming volume of my tits. They were heavy, massive, two spheres of flesh that dominated my silhouette and always seemed designed to draw every single eye, even though I spent every second of my life trying to kill that effect. I stared at them, watching how gravity pulled at them, creating a deep, generous curve that reminded me of the hunger deep in my belly—a void that no amount of professional respect could ever fill.
Then began the ritual of suffocation.
I reached for the white lace bra, a garment designed to compress, to contain, to erase. Getting into it was always a physical and psychological struggle. First, I fought with the straps, feeling them dig into my shoulders as I tried to force the flesh of my tits into the cups. I let out a muffled groan, almost a grunt of frustration, when I felt the fabric stretch to its breaking point.
Sshhh... The sound of the lace stretching to the limit echoed in my ears. I had to use my hands to push and mold the flesh, sinking my fingers into the softness of my tits to force them to stay flat, crushed against my chest. I felt my white skin turn pink from the excessive pressure, and the air began to fail me as the bra squeezed my ribs like a noose. The result was an unbearable feeling of oppression; my tits were there, trapped in a fabric cage, fighting for breath, pulsing against the restriction with every beat of my heart.
I put on the white silk blouse, hearing the soft brush of the fabric sliding over skin that was already damp from a cold sweat breaking out at the nape of my neck. As I buttoned it up, I felt that familiar and torturous tug on the middle buttons. Each button was a critical point of tension; I knew that if I leaned too far or breathed too deeply, the fabric would give way. But that oppression was necessary. Formal clothes weren't just attire; they were my armor.
I approached the mirror to do my makeup, tracing the perfect line of my red lips and ensuring my skin looked flawless, without a single trace of weakness. As I applied the powder, a shiver ran down my spine. I looked into my own eyes and saw the woman disappear to make way for the mask: that icy, distant, and severe gaze that projected an unreachable superiority.
But beneath that white silk, beneath that perfect makeup and that expression of ice, my body was screaming. I felt an electric tingle in my clit, a dull throb reminding me that I was alive and starving. The physical suffocation of my clothes translated into emotional suffocation; I felt like a caged animal inside a marble statue. I knew that the moment I crossed the threshold of the institute, everyone would see the perfect teacher, the untouchable woman who despised any sign of vulgarity.
None of them could imagine that this coldness was the result of unbearable pressure, that my mask of ice was the only thing keeping me from crumbling under the weight of my own desires. I adjusted my pencil skirt, feeling it hug my hips with military rigidity, and let out a shaky sigh that made the buttons of my blouse groan once more. I was ready to start another day of lies, carrying the weight of my tits and the loneliness of my life, not knowing yet that the path to depravity had already been traced inside me.
When I closed the door to my house at the end of the day, the sound of the lock clicking was like the closing of a tomb. My home wasn't a refuge; it was a cold and sterile museum, a space filled with expensive furniture, marble floors that echoed my footsteps, and a silence so thick it buzzed in my ears. It was a house designed to impress guests who never arrived and to maintain the appearance of a perfect life, while I slowly consumed myself inside.
My husband was part of that expensive, lifeless furniture. A man much older than me, whose presence in the house was as sporadic as his interest in my body. We had married for convenience; he wanted the trophy beauty of a young and distinguished woman to complete his image of success, and I... I had sought stability, status, and that economic security that would allow me to walk with my head high. But the price of that security was a loneliness that ate through my guts.
He was almost never there. When he was, he moved through the halls like a ghost, wrapped in his gray suits and phone calls about business and stocks. To him, I was just another piece in his collection; he looked at me with the same indifference he used for a painting hanging on the wall. There was never any passion, never that animal urgency I felt boiling under my skin every time I looked in the mirror. Our interactions were limited to polite greetings and silent dinners where the only sound was the clink of cutlery against fine porcelain.
There were nights when the frustration became physical, an unbearable pressure that started in my tits and traveled down to my clit, leaving me in a state of constant irritability. I would lie in the matrimonial bed—a massive expanse of cold silk sheets—and feel the void beside me like a slap in the face. I would roll over slowly, feeling my huge tits flatten against the mattress, heavy and hot, while I imagined strong, rough hands grabbing them violently, squeezing them until I couldn't breathe.
Sometimes, I stayed staring at the ceiling in the darkness, listening to the graveyard silence of the house, and felt a dull rage grow inside me. It was a cruel irony: I had a body that screamed to be desired, a massive chest that attracted the gaze of every man I crossed in the institute, but I came home to be invisible. I felt like a ripe fruit rotting on the branch because no one dared to pluck it.
There were moments when the sexual hunger was so strong it made me shake. I would get out of bed and walk through the house naked, feeling the cold marble under my feet and the heavy sway of my tits against my stomach. I looked at myself in the hallway mirrors, watching how my white skin glowed under the dim light of the lamps, and wondered if anyone would ever touch me with the vulgarity I craved. I didn't want romance; I didn't want sweet words. I wanted to be treated like an object; I wanted to feel someone claim me with animal hunger, ripping my clothes off and making me moan until I was exhausted.
That lack became a silent obsession. My marriage was a golden cage where I was the most pampered prisoner, but also the hungriest. Every day I spent being the "exemplary wife" and the "respectable teacher," the void between my legs grew deeper. The tension accumulated in my muscles, in my breath, in the way I bit my lips while teaching.
I felt trapped in a constant lie. On the outside, I projected an image of self-sufficiency and glacial coldness, but on the inside, I was screaming. I imagined breaking the silence of that house with screams of pleasure, filling the empty rooms with the sound of skin slapping against skin. But the man who slept beside me—when he was there—was incapable of waking the beast I kept locked beneath my silk blouses.
That accompanied loneliness was what finally broke me. It led me to seek refuge in places where no one knew me, where I wasn't anyone's wife or anyone's teacher. I needed an escape valve for all that accumulated lust, a place where I could stop being marble and start being flesh. I didn't know how it would happen, but I knew I could no longer endure the weight of the silence nor the oppression of my own repressed desires.
It was two in the morning and the house felt colder than ever. I lay in the immense matrimonial bed, my body wrapped in a black silk robe that felt slippery against my skin but failed to remove the feeling of emptiness. Beside me, the space was vacant; my husband was probably in some business hotel or some late-night meeting, and I, as always, was left alone with my thoughts and a dull restlessness gnawing at my nerves.
Insomnia had become my habitual companion. To combat the loneliness and the graveyard silence enveloping the rooms, I turned on my phone. The blue light of the screen blinded me for a moment, casting long shadows against the bedroom walls. I browsed aimlessly, jumping through irrelevant news and empty profiles, looking for anything to distract me from the oppression of my own life. I entered Twitter, scrolling through the feed with mechanical apathy, until a capricious algorithm suggested a profile that had nothing to do with my usual interests.
At first, it was just an image. A blurry photo, probably taken in a mirror, where a woman posed from behind. She wore no clothes; only high red heels that made her ass lift in a provocative and tight curve. But what stopped my heart wasn't the nudity itself, but the rawness of the image. It wasn't a professional or edited photo meant to look elegant; it was vulgar, direct, almost aggressive in its honesty.
I felt a pinch of morbid curiosity and, without thinking, clicked on the profile.
What I found there was a dizzying descent into a world I had only visited in my darkest, most forbidden fantasies. The woman didn't show her face, but she exposed every corner of her body with an animal confidence that left me zoned out. There were entire threads of photos where she showed herself playing with her own nipples, short videos where she bounced her tits in front of the camera while reading dirty comments, and photos where she spread her legs completely, exposing her wetness to the world without a shred of shame.
I froze, phone pressed against my chest, feeling my breathing turn erratic. I had never seen anything like this so openly. In my world, sexuality was something that should be discrete, elegant, and above all, controlled. But here, in this digital corner, vulgarity was the primary language. I read the comments under the photos: unknown men using raw words, calling her a "slut," asking her to masturbate for them, praising the shape of her ass and the size of her tits with a rawness that made me blush.
And then the unexpected happened. Instead of feeling disgust or rejection, I felt an electric spark run down my spine and land directly on my clit.
A damp, stinging heat began to concentrate between my legs. I felt hypnotized by the idea that someone could expose themselves like that, that someone had the courage to turn their body into a pure, animal object of desire for strangers. While observing a photo where the girl squeezed her tits with her hands, distorting the white flesh, I felt my own breasts start to pulse under the silk robe. I brought a hand to my chest, unconsciously squeezing the curve of my tit, and let out a muffled moan that echoed in the silence of the room.
"My God... what am I doing?" I whispered, but I didn't look away.
I felt as if I were looking through a forbidden keyhole. The excitement was born from the morbidity, from the transgression. I imagined for a moment how it would be if I were in that position: to stop being Professor Eunbi, the trophy wife, the pedestal of ice, and become simply flesh. I imagined the feeling of reading those vulgar comments directed at me, the idea that thousands of men were staring at my huge tits and my ass without knowing who I really was.
The idea triggered an adrenaline rush so strong it made me shake. For the first time in years, I didn't feel the void of marriage or the suffocation of my routine; I felt a voracious hunger, an animal need to be seen, to be desired in the dirtiest way possible. I slid down in the bed, feeling the silk of the robe stick to my sweaty thighs. With the phone still on and the image of that exposed woman before me, I brought my hand down, seeking contact with my own damp skin.
I realized I no longer wanted to be just a spectator. The accidental discovery of that account had opened a floodgate in my mind that could no longer be closed. Curiosity had transformed into a dangerous and tangible desire. As I touched myself, imagining thousands of invisible eyes watching me through the screen, I knew my perfect life had just shattered. The ice had cracked, and beneath it, a current of depravity began to flow, promising the only freedom I had ever known: the freedom to be vulgar.
I stayed there, lying in the darkness of my bed, phone illuminating my face and breath ragged. My hand remained anchored between my legs, but my mind was elsewhere, processing the psychological shock I had just suffered. I wondered, with brutal honesty, why this vulgarity had provoked such a violent, visceral reaction. Why did seeing a stranger expose her ass and tits to thousands of strangers make me feel like the air became thick and my clit throbbed with an almost painful urgency?
Then I understood it. And the revelation was like a blow to the stomach.
It wasn't just sexual desire; it was a hunger for freedom. For years, I had built a fortress of ice around myself. I had become the embodiment of perfection: the impeccable teacher, the distinguished wife, the woman who never made a mistake and followed every social rule with military discipline. I had spent so much time being the pedestal where others projected their ideas of respect and decorum that I had forgotten what it meant to be human—or more accurately, what it meant to be an animal.
The idea of becoming exactly what I despised in public—a vulgar woman, an exhibitionist, a digital slut—felt, for the first time in my life, like the only path toward redemption. I imagined freeing myself from that armor of silk and perfect makeup. I imagined breaking the silence of my empty marriage not with words, but with dirty moans while thousands of invisible eyes devoured me through a screen. The mere idea of betraying my own image, knowing that while I corrected exams with coldness in the classroom, there existed on some remote server a proof of my depravity, gave me an adrenaline rush that left me trembling.
I wanted to feel that gaze. I wanted them to desire me not for my intellect or status, but for the mass of my tits and the curve of my ass. I wanted to be an object; I wanted to be consumed; I wanted the world to see me without filters, without rules, and without the suffocating mask of a "good teacher."
Driven by an urgency I couldn't contain, I got out of bed. The silk robe slid off my shoulders, falling to the floor with a dull whisper. I walked naked toward the vanity mirror, feeling the cold night air hit my white skin and prickle the hairs on my arms. I stared at myself. There I was: Eunbi, the woman of ice. But as I observed myself, I began to see myself through the eyes of those men on Twitter. I saw the massive volume of my tits swaying with every breath, the powerful curve of my hips, and the moisture glistening between my legs.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a caged animal. Fear was there, a cold sting in my stomach, but it was precisely that fear that fueled my excitement. I took the phone with trembling hands and opened the camera.
I positioned myself in front of the mirror, adjusting the angle with obsessive care. I didn't want to show my face; the idea of keeping my identity hidden added a layer of morbidity that made me gasp. I framed myself from the chin down, letting the dim light of the room highlight the shadows and contours of my body.
With a slow movement, I took my own tits with both hands, squeezing them toward the center to create a deep, glistening valley. I felt the softness of my own flesh, the heat of my skin, and the tension of my erect nipples rubbing against the palms of my hands. The contrast between the woman I was in the classroom and the woman who was now standing here, holding her own breasts for an obscene photo, provoked a spasm of pleasure that made me arch my back.
Click.
The sound of the shutter resonated in the room like a gunshot. I stared at the image on the screen: my huge tits, exposed and vulnerable, captured in a moment of pure transgression. A wave of animal euphoria surged through my entire body, from my toes to the nape of my neck. I had crossed the line. I was no longer just a spectator; I had become a participant in the game.
I sat on the cold floor, leaning my back against the wood, while I looked at the photo over and over again. I knew this was the start of something dangerous, something that could destroy my life if anyone ever found out. But as I felt the constant pulsing between my legs and the echo of the click in my ears, I knew there was no turning back. The mask of ice had definitively cracked, and I was anxious to see how much more of it could break before it consumed me completely.
I kept staring at the phone screen, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks as I read a comment that repeated over and over in the thread of my last photo. "I want to see those tits moving," one said; another was cruder: "Bet they weigh a ton, make them bounce for us, slut."
The word "slut" resonated in my head like a whip-crack. In the classroom, that word would be grounds for expulsion or a nuclear scandal; but here, in the dimness of my room, while I felt the brush of my silk robe against my erect nipples, that word gave me an electric shock that left me breathless. I felt small, vulgar, and for the first time in years, terribly alive.
I stood up in front of the vanity mirror, feeling my heart hammer against my ribs with an erratic rhythm. I untied the knot of my robe and let the garment fall to the floor, leaving me completely naked before my own reflection. The dim light highlighted the whiteness of my skin and the massive volume of my breasts, which hung heavily, waiting to be released. I felt vulnerable, but that vulnerability was the gasoline fueling my excitement.
I took the phone with one hand and placed it at an angle that captured only my torso and thighs. With the other hand, I touched my chest, feeling the softness of the flesh and the hardness of my nipples, which were already tense like piano wires. I imagined the thousands of men on the other side of the screen, holding their breath, waiting for me to do what they asked.
Then, I did it.
I began to bounce gently on my heels, a short, rhythmic movement that caused my tits to jump violently up and down. The impact was immediate. I felt the real weight of my own body; the inertia of my breasts was overwhelming, swaying with an animal force that made me gasp. Plok... plok... I could hear the dull sound of flesh hitting my own chest with every bounce.
I looked at myself in the mirror and went completely zoned out. Seeing my huge tits oscillate like that, without control, without bras compressing them, was an image of pure depravity. I felt like a beast, a massive object of pleasure that had nothing to do with Professor Eunbi. As I increased the intensity of the jumps, the sway became more chaotic and violent. My breasts bounced with raw energy, pulling at the skin of my shoulders and making my nipples dance frantically in the air.
"God..." I let out a muffled moan that echoed through the walls of the room.
The physical sensation was intoxicating. The weight of my tits swaying created a tension in my back and chest that translated, almost instantly, into an electric sting between my legs. I felt my clit pulsing with violent urgency, flooding my imaginary underwear with thick, hot moisture. Every time my breasts dropped and hit my torso, I felt a bolt of pleasure run down my spine.
I stopped abruptly, left breathless, my chest heaving violently. My tits continued to oscillate slightly from the inertia, and I stared at the screen, watching the comments explode in real-time: "Holy shit, look how they bounce!", "Bet they feel heavy as hell," "do it harder, slut, make them bounce until you're tired."
Reading those words while feeling the echo of the sway in my body provoked a spasm of pleasure that made me arch my back. I felt humiliated and adored at the same time. The idea that those men were watching my tits jump, imagining the weight and heat of that flesh, left me in a state of sexual hyper-awareness. My breathing was now a shallow gasp, and my skin was glistening with a cold sweat starting to bead at my neck.
I stood there, gaze fixed on my own breasts, feeling the hunger grow. The bouncing had only been the beginning; it had awakened a beast that no longer settled for jumping. I wanted more. I wanted to feel the touch, I wanted to fulfill every dirty request, and I wanted to see how far my own depravity could go before it broke me completely.
The phone screen was now a cauldron of lust. Notifications kept arriving, a constant flow of dirty words that hit my mind like lashes. The bouncing video had been the spark, but now the users wanted something more; they were no longer satisfied with natural movement, they wanted to see deformation, they wanted to see how that massive flesh felt under pressure.
"Use your hands," one comment said, standing out above the rest. "I want to see your fingers sink into those tits, I want to see how much space they take up in your palms. Squeeze them until they overflow, slut."
Reading the word "squeeze" triggered an immediate reaction in my body. I felt a violent spasm in my belly and an electric sting that went straight down to my clit, leaving me breathless for a second. I stared at my own breasts, those two monuments of white flesh that were currently rising and falling with the speed of my ragged breath. The idea of following that order, of becoming a toy for thousands of strangers, provoked a wave of heat that blurred my vision.
I approached the mirror, pressing my chest almost against the cold glass. The thermal contrast made my nipples harden instantly, poking the air like two small, dark nails. I took the phone with my left hand and positioned it for an extreme close-up; I wanted every pore of my skin, every tiny blue vein and every drop of sweat to be visible to those on the other side.
Then, I closed the fingers of my right hand over my left tit.
It wasn't a gentle caress. Following the chat's order, I sank my fingers with raw force into the soft mass of my breast. I felt the flesh shift and deform under the pressure, creating deep grooves that left the skin red where my nails dug in slightly. The volume was so massive that my hand couldn't wrap around it completely; the tit overflowed through the sides of my fingers, creating a grotesque and fascinating curve that left me zoned out.
"Oh God..." I let out a husky moan, a guttural sound I didn't recognize as my own.
I saw myself in the mirror and felt a surge of animal euphoria. Seeing how my own hand crushed that massive volume, forcing the flesh to displace upward and sideways, made me feel incredibly vulgar. It was the same hand I used to hold chalk in front of my students, the same hand that corrected exams with glacial severity, but now it was there, buried in my own skin, distorting my body for the pleasure of strangers. The psychological contrast was the spark that lit an uncontrollable fire between my legs; I felt the moisture begin to soak the area, a hot and thick flow that made me feel heavy.
I increased the pressure. I began to knead my breast with slow, strong movements, squeezing and releasing, making the flesh bounce against my own palm. Squelch... plok... The sound of my damp skin slapping against itself echoed in the silence of the room, a wet and obscene noise that sent a violent shiver down my entire spine. I imagined it wasn't my fingers squeezing, but the hands of one of those men from the chat, someone grabbing me violently and forcing me to watch how I was being deformed.
I leaned further toward the mirror, letting my other tit hang heavily, while I continued manipulating the first with desperate urgency. My nipples were now so tense they hurt, and every time I squeezed the flesh, I felt the pressure translate directly to my pelvic area, triggering rhythmic spasms in my clit. I was sweating; a drop slid down my forehead and fell right into the valley of my breasts, glistening under the light before sliding downward.
I looked at the screen and saw that the chat had entered a state of collective hysteria. "That's it! Harder!", "look how her fingers overflow," "bet they're hot and soft." Reading those words while feeling my own flesh deform under my fingers made me arch my back, letting out a shallow gasp. I felt small, exposed, and completely dominated by the desire of those strangers.
I stopped for a second, fingers still buried in my chest, feeling the pulse of my own heart beating against my palms. I was at the limit; the physical tension was already unbearable, and the need to touch myself further began to cloud my judgment. But I knew I couldn't skip steps. I wanted to feel every inch of this humiliation, I wanted to fulfill every dirty request before allowing myself a climax.
The euphoria of deformation still vibrated in my fingers, but the chat's hunger was a bottomless pit. While I recovered my breath, panting in front of the mirror, the notifications began to shift direction. They were no longer satisfied with my tits; now they wanted to explore the forbidden territory, the zone I had kept under lock and key even in the most intimate moments of my empty marriage.
"What about the rest?" a comment said with a rawness that made me shudder. "We want to see that ass. Open your legs, slut. We want to see how wet you are while you look at us."
Reading the word "open" caused a short circuit in my mind. I felt a sting of panic mixed with an excitement so violent it made my knees buckle for an instant. Showing my tits was an act of exhibitionism, but opening myself to the camera was an act of total surrender. It was giving up the last fortress of my dignity. But it was precisely that feeling of absolute vulnerability that pushed me forward. I wanted to feel that freefall; I wanted to know what happened when a respectable teacher became raw meat for public consumption.
I let the phone drop onto the surface of the vanity, leaning it against a perfume bottle so the angle captured the lower part of my body. I turned around, leaving my back to the mirror and facing the camera.
I leaned forward, resting my palms on the cold marble of the furniture. The movement was abrupt and caused my huge tits to hang heavily, pulling at my skin and swaying with a real, almost tangible weight, while they remained suspended in the air. I felt gravity dragging them down, a feeling of heaviness that made me feel even more animal. But my attention was no longer on my breasts; it was on the tension building in my thighs and the curve of my ass.
With a slow, deliberate movement, I began to separate my legs. The brush of my own thighs, damp with sweat and excitement, produced a soft sound, a fleshy slide that echoed in the silence of the room. Sshhh...
I brought my hands back. My fingers, still hot from squeezing my chest, found the firm, rounded skin of my cheeks. With a muffled moan, I grabbed each cheek firmly and began to pull them apart violently, opening myself up.
"Oh God..." I whispered, and my voice came out as a broken wail.
The visual impact on the screen was devastating. By opening myself, I exposed the most intimate and secret part of my body under the raw light of the ring lamp. I saw the contrast between the whiteness of my tight cheeks and the deep pink and wetness of my vulva, which was already glistening from natural lubrication. I felt completely naked—not just of clothes, but of all social protection. I was there, open, exposed, offering my hole to thousands of invisible eyes.
I stayed like that, in a humiliating and provocative position, feeling the cold air hit my most sensitive area. The sensation was overwhelming; I felt as if each of the spectators were stabbing their gaze into my wetness, penetrating me with their sight. The pulse in my clit became frenetic, a constant hammering that made my legs shake.
Then, I saw the chat explode. Words were no longer just comments; they were orders. "Open wider!", "bet she's dripping," "I want to see how that hole glistens," "look at this open slut."
Reading the word "dripping" while I felt the hot, thick flow sliding down my vaginal lips provoked a violent spasm. I felt like a ripe fruit that had finally burst. I imagined it wasn't a camera in front of me, but a real man forcing me to stay like that, open and vulnerable, while he insulted me and claimed me.
I began to move my hips slightly, rubbing the surface of the marble with my wet zone. Plok... plok... The sound of my wet flesh hitting the cold furniture was obscene, a symphony of fluids that made me gasp loudly. I felt small, reduced to a simple orifice, and that reduction gave me the most intense euphoria of my life. There was no longer a teacher, no longer a wife; there was only a woman open and starving, surrendering her secret to the world in an act of absolute depravity.
I stayed in that position for several minutes, enjoying the agony of desire and the pleasure of exposure. My tits continued to hang heavily in front of me, swaying slightly with every gasp, while my lower half was totally surrendered to digital scrutiny. I was on the verge of collapse, muscles tense and mind clouded by an animal lust that screamed it was finally time to stop watching and start touching.
The tension in the room had reached a point of no return. I was there, leaning on the cold marble, legs open and intimacy exposed to thousands of invisible eyes. The freezing air of the room hit my wetness, but I was burning inside. I looked at the phone screen and saw that the chat was no longer asking for photos; now they demanded action. Words flew in a cascade of depravity: "Touch yourself," "I want to see you masturbate while you read us," "use your fingers, slut, get them dirty with your own juice."
Reading the word "get them dirty" triggered an electric spasm through my thighs. I felt like a puppet whose strings were being pulled by strangers, and that loss of control was the most exciting thing I had ever felt in my life. I was no longer the woman dictating rules in the classroom; now I was the one obeying dirty orders from the shadows of her own home.
Slowly, with one hand still resting on the marble to support my weight and the other descending toward my crotch, I began the execution. The first contact of my fingers against my clit was like a spark. I was so lubricated that my finger slipped instantly, producing a short, wet sound. Plok. I froze for a second, listening to that noise in the absolute silence of the room. It was the physical confirmation of my own excitement; I was dripping, completely surrendered to the morbidity.
"Oh God..." I let out a gasp that vibrated in my throat, while closing my eyes and letting myself be carried by the current.
I began to rub myself with circular movements, slow at first, feeling how the flesh of my vulva was swollen and sensitive. Every touch was an exquisite torture. As I increased the speed, the sound became more constant and visceral. Squelch... squelch... The noise of my fingers moving through the viscosity of my own desire filled my ears, mixing with the sound of my breath which was no longer a whisper, but an erratic, animal gasp.
I forced myself to open my eyes to read the chat while I touched myself. "Faster!", "look how your hole glistens," "bet you're thinking about how dirty you are." Reading that I was "dirty" while feeling the friction of my fingers against my clit gave me an adrenaline rush that made me arch my back. I felt divided: one part of me was still Professor Eunbi, horrified by her own conduct, but the other—the real, hungry one—enjoyed every second of this degradation.
I increased the pace, sinking a finger deeply into my vaginal canal while the thumb continued to hammer my clit with blind urgency. The sound was now a wet and obscene symphony. Squelch... plok... squelch... I felt the pressure in my pelvis grow until it became unbearable. My legs began to shake, and I had to press my toes against the floor to keep from collapsing.
In that moment, I forgot about the perfect position; I simply surrendered to raw pleasure. I let my huge tits hang heavily downward, swaying violently with every movement of my hips. The weight of my breasts pulling on my skin contrasted with the frenetic speed of my hand down there. I felt like a beast in heat, a woman reduced to a set of electric impulses and hot fluids.
"Look at me..." I whispered into the phone's microphone, though I didn't know who I was speaking to. "Look how I get... for you..."
The idea that thousands of men were watching my climax in real-time, observing how my fingers disappeared and reappeared in my wetness, pushed me to the limit. I felt my heart hammering against my ribs and the skin of my back prickling. The pleasure was no longer just physical; it was a psychological catharsis. I was breaking every chain they had imposed on me, destroying the image of the perfect woman piece by piece with every movement of my hand.
I was on the edge of the abyss, feeling the tension accumulate in a tight, hot knot just below my navel. My breathing was now a set of husky sobs, and my eyes were clouded by a lust that prevented me from thinking clearly. There only existed the wet sound of my fingers, the raw light of the lamp, and the insatiable hunger to end this torment.
The entire world had been reduced to a point of unbearable heat concentrated in my clit and the deafening sound of my own blood pulsing in my ears. I no longer heard the hum of the air or the silence of the house; I only heard the frenetic rhythm of my own fingers against my wet flesh and the incessant flow of dirty words sprouting from the chat. I was at the peak of the mountain, balancing dangerously over an abyss of pure pleasure and absolute depravity.
"Now! Come for us, slut! Do it right now!" I read on the screen, and that final order was like a bomb's detonator.
I let out an animal scream that tore through my throat, a sound I would have never allowed to escape my lips in any other context. My hand became a blur of movement; there was no longer any technique, no longer any rhythm, only a blind and desperate urgency to reach liberation. I sank my fingers with violent force into my wetness, hammering my clit with a speed that almost hurt, but that pain was the fuel I needed to jump into the void.
And then, it happened.
The orgasm hit me like a thousand-volt electric shock that raced up my spine and left me breathless. It was a violent burst, an explosion of pleasure so intense that I felt my mind fragment into a thousand pieces. My entire body arched against the cold marble of the furniture, my muscles tensed to the limit, and I let out a husky shriek that resonated throughout the room. I felt my belly contract in deep, rhythmic spasms, squeezing my fingers with instinctive force while waves of liquid heat flooded my legs.
It was the most violent orgasm of my life because it wasn't just physical; it was the discharge of years of repression, of matrimonial loneliness, and of a social mask that had been suffocating me. In that instant, I wasn't Professor Eunbi nor the trophy wife; I was simply a woman broken by pleasure, an animal creature surrendering completely to humiliation and desire. My huge tits oscillated violently with my body's spasms, hitting my own chest with a wet, dull sound while I shook in the climax, feeling every pore of my skin scream with satisfaction.
I stayed there, collapsed on the furniture, breath broken and heart hammering against my ribs as if it wanted to escape my chest. Sweat soaked the nape of my neck and my chest, and I felt the cold marble contrasting violently with the residual heat emanating from my crotch. My fingers were still trembling, stained with my own lubrication, while I stared fixedly at the camera with clouded eyes and dilated pupils.
On the screen, the chat was in a state of collective hysteria. "Holy shit, look how she shakes!", "that's the best climax I've ever seen," "she's totally destroyed." Reading those words while I recovered my breath provoked a dark, satisfied smile. I had achieved the unthinkable: I had turned my own vulnerability into a weapon of pleasure. I felt emptied, exhausted, but strangely filled with a clarity I had never possessed.
Slowly, I detached myself from the furniture and stood up, feeling my legs still shaking. I took the phone with a trembling hand and turned off the transmission without saying a single word. Silence flooded the room again, but it was no longer an oppressive silence; it was a complicit one.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was messy, my lips were swollen, and my tits were still rising and falling with the rapidity of my gasps. I saw myself and, for the first time, felt neither disgust nor fear. I felt power. The secret I now kept in my phone was a forbidden jewel, a key that allowed me to escape the marble prison I lived in.
I walked toward the bathroom to clean myself, feeling the brush of my own wet thighs with every step. I knew that tomorrow I would put on the white blouse again, that I would compress my tits in that suffocating bra, and that I would look at my students again with that glacial coldness they all respected. But now there was a fundamental difference: I knew who I was beneath those clothes. I knew that while they saw a perfect teacher, I was the woman who opened herself to the world for pleasure.
I looked at myself one last time in the mirror before dressing and smiled. The mask of ice was intact for the rest of the world, but inside me, the fire had just begun.
A few years ago, my wife found a cyst growing in the folds of her vagina lips that she was too afraid to go to the doctor for. It kept growing larger because she was too embarrassed to go and have it checked out. When I finally forced her to go to the doctor, it had grown enough that it needed to be surgically removed. It has been two years since the surgery, and she still claims that it hurts. So much so that we rarely have sex anymore. When we do, she says it hurts, and I feel guilty when I ask. I turned inward and hid my emotions and disappointment that our marriage had taken such a turn. She'd never really enjoyed sex, but she says she gave in so I wouldn't feel neglected. Other times, she'd lay a pretty heavy guilt trip on me and leverage it to get something out of it.
I had grown sullen and depressed, and my wife would tear into me about it, saying, how did I think she felt? Over time, our eighteen-year-old daughter had taken notice of our arguments. She approached me one afternoon while her mother was at work. She'd asked me how I was doing. When I told her that things were rough since she got hurt, I tried to sound positive and said that we'd get through it. That's when my daughter, Iroha, told me that she thought mom was faking so she wouldn't have to have sex. When I asked her what gave her that idea, she told me that she'd caught Mom masturbating and that she keeps a dildo in the bottom drawer of her nightstand. I immediately went to look, and sure enough, there was a ten-inch dildo under her nightie and body lotions.
I was at a loss for words. I was heartbroken. My wife had been lying to me because she didn't want to have sex with me. Anger, rage, and betrayal all flooded my mind and quickly led to thoughts of leaving her. Iroha sat on the edge of the bed next to me, telling me that she didn't want to be from a divorced home. She said that she'd be willing to help out. That she'd do anything to keep us together. She hugged me from the side, pressing her large breasts into my shoulder. She snorted when I asked what she thought she could do to save our marriage. She sank to her knees at my feet, looking up into my eyes, saying, "I'll do anything to keep you from leaving us, Dad."
I surveyed a canyon of cleavage as I looked down, watching my little girl staring up at me with pleading puppy dog eyes. She slid her hands up my thighs to the zipper of my pants. I sat in utter shock, frozen as she unzipped my pants. Iroha slipped her hand in the opening of my boxers to fish my penis out of my pants. She blushed at its size when she finally freed my trouser snake.
My cock is a modest eight inches and was likely the biggest that she'd ever seen. "Let me help you, Daddy," she whispered as she took my cock between her lips, sucking me erect. Her head bobbed as she swirled her tongue down the length of my shaft. My little girl sucked my cock until I released my seed into her mouth. I could hear her gulp as she swallowed my cum. It had been so long that there must have been a gallon of it.
Once she finished swallowing every last drop, she rose to her feet, wiping her lips. I stood there wobbly kneed, uncertain whether to thank her or not. When I opened my mouth to speak, she stopped me, saying that she was glad to do it as long as it kept me from leaving the family. She hugged me and said, "Let me know when you need me to help you again," as she left the room. I was left dumbfounded. Iroha had just sucked my cock to keep me from divorcing her mother. I was stunned and aroused at the same time. Iroha let me know that she was available for sex when I needed her.
My cock was swinging in the breeze as I followed her down the hallway to her room. I walked into her room just as she sat on the foot of her bed. I don't remember doing it, but I had shed the rest of my clothes by the time I had gotten to her room. I never dreamed I'd ever be thanking my daughter for a blow job, but here I was. I thanked her and asked her what she meant. "I mean, I don't want to be from a broken home," she said. "And if that means that I have to take over for Mom, then I will. If she's going to be selfish, then I will fuck you. I will do anything to keep you happy."
Hearing my little girl say that she'd fuck me sent a tingle through my balls, and I started to get hard again. I was standing right in front of her, and she grinned when my pecker stared her in the face. She smiled as she stood and slipped her shirt over her head. She then stripped off the rest of her clothing and stood fully nude in front of me. She was absolutely gorgeous, all five feet of her. Her golden hair was tied in pigtails with little bows. Her slender body looked like an anime character with her life-preserver sized tits. She took my hand and pulled it into her clean-shaven vagina, pushing my finger between her wet puffy pussy lips. I leaned in and kissed her as my fingers penetrated her vagina. Our lips parted at the same time, and our tongues danced in each other's mouths while I slid my finger in and out of her slippery slit.
I swept Iroha off her feet, carried her around to the side, and placed her on the bed, climbing in next to her. I leaned over her, kissing her softly, thanking her for being such a loving and giving daughter. I asked her if she was sure she wanted to do this. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Daddy," she said, bringing her lips to mine, kissing me, and driving her tongue back into my mouth. "Dad, I'm not leaving for college in the fall unless I know you and Mom aren't going to split up," she said adamantly. "Otherwise, I will attend locally."
I cupped her breast, sucking the nipple as I slid my fingers back into her warmth. My thumb grazed her clit, eliciting a faint moan. I did it again and again, softly rubbing circles on her clitoris. I fingered her until she came. I wanted to pleasure my daughter as she had just done for me. I spread her legs and positioned myself between her thighs, kissing her glistening pussy lips. I slid my tongue between the folds of her labia, dipping it into her drooling hole, fucking her with my tongue. I raised her knees, laying her legs over my shoulders as I licked her to another orgasm. My little girl wrapped her legs around my head and began to hump my face. She grabbed my head, pulling it harder to her cunt as she drove her tight little twat into my mouth. She gasped as a powerful climax hit her like a ton of bricks. Her hips bucked and undulated until her climax ebbed. I tried to slip my fingers back into her pussy, but she pushed my hand away, saying, "No, Daddy. I want your cock in me. Get on your back."
I fell off the bed when I tried to lie next to her. I laughed, telling her that maybe it was time we got her a bigger bed. My baby girl crawled off the bed so I could lie down. She straddled me, dangling her breasts over my face. I grabbed her titties, pressing my face into her boobs, kissing and sucking them. Iroha slid her slipping slit on my cock, guiding its tip into her dripping hole. Her mouth gaped wide as she lowered herself onto my rigid member. She exhaled, "Ahhh fuuuck," escaped her lips as my cock bottomed out inside her pussy. I pointed her nipples together and sucked them in unison, flicking them with my tongue as she began to ride my cock. God, she was tight. Her twat gripped my cock like a python with its prey. It didn't take long before she was squealing with delight. Wave after wave of orgasm washed over her as she continued to hump her hips on my dick. My baby girl grabbed the headboard as she pounded herself faster on my cock. I could feel her twat pulsing on my shaft as she was building to another colossal climax. Her cunt muscles gripped my shaft tightly as she climaxed, pushing me over the edge. "Baby, I'm going to cum!" I gasped.
"Go ahead, Daddy. Cum in me. Cum in my cunt," she hissed in ecstasy.
I grabbed her hips, thrusting my cock as deep as I could into her tantalizing tight twat. She came as soon as my steamy seed streamed into her cunt. "God, I'm cumming!" I groaned.
"Me too, Daddy. Me too!" she shrieked.
She started bucking her hips front and back, grinding the tip of my cock against her cervix as I filled her with my warm goo. She pulled a bit too hard on the headboard, breaking it. A loud CRACK echoed in the room as it snapped, hitting me on the head. The two of us continued humping each other, desperately trying to extend our ecstasy. Just as Iroha fell onto my chest in exhaustion, the head of the bed fell to the floor. "Jesus, Dad. What a way to make our first fuck memorable," she laughed as she tried to get up.
"Well, shit! How are we going to explain that to Mom?" she asked.
"Let's go and get you a new bed before mom gets home," I said. "Call it a thank you for fucking my brains out."
"That's what I was going to say," Iroha said as she wiped my cum out of her dripping hole.
"Oh, Sweetie. I'm sorry, I didn't even think about using a condom," I apologized.
"Dad, I've been on the pill since I was sixteen. Remember?" she asked.
We decided to go get my truck to work today from the plant where my wife works. She was working twelve-hour shifts, and I thought I would exchange vehicles and park the car in the same spot. Hopefully, she'd figure out what we did. As we were leaving the lot after exchanging vehicles, we saw my wife getting into a male coworker's car. We watched as her head quickly disappeared below the dashboard. Iroha and I sat in utter shock as the man reclined the driver's seat. Every once in a while, we would see the top of my wife's head bob up and down. Iroha fumed, calling her mother a fucking slutty bitch.
I drove closer to where they were parked and shut the truck off. We watched as my wife's head bobbed faster in the guy's lap. Iroha and I got out of the truck, leaving the doors open so as not to alert them of our presence. I realized that my wife was sucking her married supervisor's cock during their lunch break. She'd pulled her shirt up and undid her bra so the guy could play with her tit while she blew him. I don't know why, but I grabbed my phone and started recording just before Iroha knocked on the window, yelling, "You cheating slut. Fuck you, Mom, for wrecking our family!"
My wife's head came up just as the guy started blowing his wad. Streams of cum shot up, splashing off of her face. Her mouth dropped open in shock at being discovered with another guy's dick in her mouth. The guy's last spurt of cum landed on her on her lips as she screamed that she was sorry. The screams of my wife and daughter attracted the attention of other employees who were on break, and a number of employees approached to see what the commotion was about. Luckily, none of them pulled out their cell phones like I had. My wife scrambled to cover herself, slipping in the process, and smashed the guy in the nuts as she fell forward. He screamed in pain as my wife pushed down with that hand to raise herself off of him. She scrambled out of the car with her tits still out while the guy lay there doubled over in agony. "Oh my god!" my wife gasped as the CEO and the head of HR walked up. Both my wife and the dude she was blowing burst into tears when the CEO told them not to bother punching out. You're both fired! A couple of people in the back of the crowd clapped.
"Don't bother coming home," I told my wife as she pleaded with me.
"Where am I supposed to go?" she wailed. "He's married."
"He won't be when this goes viral!" I said, still recording.
"Pleeease noo," my wife cried after Iroha and I as we got back into the truck to leave.
I gave Iroha the keys to the car, telling her to drive it home and leave my wife stranded. I called my daughter, asking her to have my toolbox out when I got home. I was going to stop at the hardware store by our house and pick up new door locks for the house. My phone started ringing as soon as I hung up with Iroha. My wife was calling me, so I swiped to reject the call and sent it to voicemail. She called twice more than I sped to the hardware store. I answered the last call when my thumb accidentally bumped the answer tab on the steering wheel. I could hear my wife wailing over the phone. She must have inadvertently redialed me, as she was arguing with the guys about giving her a ride home. The guy told her to fuck off. He had his own problems having to explain to his wife why he got fired. I hung up as I pulled into the parking lot of the hardware store.
I grabbed two new knobs and deadbolt kits and quickly headed home. I wanted to change the locks before my wife had a chance to get home. I pulled into the garage and closed the door behind me. My darling daughter had used my screw gun and already had the front door deadbolt and door knob removed by the time I got home. She went to remove the locks from the back door while I installed the new locks. The whole time we were working to change the locks, our phones rang. First mine, then the house phone, and finally my daughters. I disconnected the house phone and then blocked my wife's number on my cell. Iroha listened to a couple of messages from her mom before she, too, blocked her mom's number.
After we finished, we put the tools away. I went upstairs to our bedroom and packed up a bunch of my wife's clothes into plastic garbage bags. Iroha tossed her mother's toiletries into a bag as well. We threw them on the front porch with a note saying, "I reported all of your credit cards stolen except the Visa. Don't bother knocking. Just take your shit and go!"
The icing on the cake was when Iroha came running out of the house with her mom's dildo and placed it on the stack of trash bags. As we went back inside, Iroha reminded me about the external keypad for opening the garage door. I went and ripped it from the door frame. "Fuck that bitch!" Iroha said in a Russian accent, like the movie we had watched earlier in the week.
About an hour later, we heard a car door slam. We peeked out the closed blinds and watched my wife and the guy load her bags into his car and leave. I sank back onto the couch, relieved that she didn't make a scene for our neighbors. I read through some of the text messages that my wife left before I blocked her number. They were pitiful, begging me not to post them anywhere and stating that I had already cost both of them their jobs. I showed it to Iroha, asking her what she thought I should do? "Wait until she pulls something, then post it," she said.
Iroha snuggled next to me, pulling my arm around her and wrapping her arms around me. She laid her head on my shoulder and squeezed me tightly. When I hugged her back, my hand accidentally cupped her breast. I gave it a squeeze.
"Thank you for today, Honey. I wouldn't have been able to control myself if it hadn't been for what you did for me today," I said, massaging her tit.
She slid her hand to my groin, giving my dick a squeeze, saying, "My offer still stands. You are going to need me more than ever now. Huh?"
"Baby, you shouldn't have to do that for me." I kissed her on the top of her head.
"I'd be doing it for the both of us. What you did to me today was amazing, and I want more. In fact, I don't ever want you to stop doing it with me," she said, stroking my penis erect.
Iroha lowered her head to my lap as she fished my cock out of my pants. Her pigtailed head started bobbing in my lap, and the image of my wife's head flashed through my mind. Iroha's pigtails bounced every time her head took another stroke. She sucked me until I was fully erect. That's when my little girl stood and asked, "Are you ready for me, Daddy?" as she stripped out of her clothes.
I shimmied out of my pants and pulled my shirt over my head. Iroha straddled my lap and pulled my face to her breasts. She held my head as she lowered her onto my cock. I suckled her nipples as my little girl bounced her twat on my dick. She pulled my face to hers, kissing me passionately as we fucked. Our tongues twirled and danced in each other's mouths. Iroha sucked on the tip of my tongue, swirling it with hers like she had been doing on my cock.
I thrust my cock into her, matching her every stroke, causing her to have the beginning tingle of an orgasm. She leaned back as she humped my cock, allowing me to resume sucking her nipples. Iroha wrapped her arms around my head, squeezing my face to her nipple as she came. She swirled and pivoted her pelvis as she ground her cervix on my rigid shaft. I clenched to keep myself from blowing my wad too soon. I even had to grab her hips to keep her from moving lest I lose my load. I held her still until the sensation waned.
Iroha climbed off my lap, turning her back to me. She sat on my lap, wiggling her hips as she tried to get the tip of my cock back into her slippery slit. She placed her feet on the cushion next to my knees as she leaned back against my chest. She began slamming her cunt onto my cock with long, steady strokes. The echos of our bodies clapping together filled the house. I grabbed her titties, squeezing them and pinching her nipples, cascading her into another climax. For a split second, I wondered where she'd learned this.
Her thrust became more sporadic and uncoordinated when she reached back and placed her hands on my shoulder so she could take longer thrusts. She took too long of a stroke on my shaft, causing it to slip out of her tight twat. On her downward thrust, my slickened snake slammed into her starfish. She let out a shriek but kept hammering herself on my cock. I reached around her and slipped two fingers into her cunt, fingering her til she came again. A warm gush of fluid coated my fingers as she climaxed.
In all the excitement, I couldn't hold back, and I blasted a load of cum up her pooper. I continued to thrust my cock into her until I emptied my nuts deep in her dumper. I kept fingering her twat until she couldn't take it anymore, and she pushed my hand away. I grabbed my shirt and tucked it between her ass cheeks as she slid off my cock. I took her hand and led her to the bathroom. I started the shower so we could wash off. I was a bit surprised when Iroha stepped into the shower with me. She took the bar of soap and began to wash my chest, washing her way down to my pubes. Her soapy hands stroked my cock and balls, scrubbing them of any remnant of our anal fuck fest. She smirked at me, asking if she'd done a good job. I nodded in the affirmative. "Good. Now you do me," she said, handing me the soap.
I lathered up my hands and let them wander over her luscious young body. I squeezed her breasts with my soapy, making them slip through my fingers. She giggled as I played with them like a little boy with a new toy. I knelt in front of her, letting my hands trail down her abdomen and finally to her pussy. I lathered up my hands again to wash her bald pussy, slipping my fingers through the folds of her vagina. I hesitated when my fingers neared her pussy hole. She nodded when I peered up at her. I slipped my fingers into her hole, washing it clean of from earlier in the day. She spun around, saying, "Don't forget the backside."
I slid my soapy fingers through her ass cheeks, washing her crack and sphincter. I noticed a bit of blood when I removed my hand.
"It's okay, Dad. It's normal for me after anal,"
"What do you mean, normal?" I asked.
"Dad. I'm a good Catholic girl. I know about the loophole," she giggled.
"Is that why you kept going when it slipped in?"
"Um, hum," she nodded. "I like anal sometimes."
I rinsed the suds off of her body and grabbed a bath towel to wrap her in. She, too, grabbed a towel and dried me off, spending a bit too long on my cock.
We wrapped ourselves in the towels and headed down the hallway to our bedrooms. She paused at her door before entering. "Where am I going to sleep tonight?" she said coyly as she looked through her bedroom door at her busted bed. "You broke my bed, fucking me earlier."
"Wait. I didn't break your bed. You were the one who yanked it apart." I jokingly replied.
"Yeah. Cuz your cock was giving me such a great fuck," she laughed as she took my hand and led me into my bedroom.
We crawled into bed and lay naked in each other's arms as we drifted to sleep.
Trigger Warning : This stories theme were contained with Step-incest, Step Mother-Son, Step Father-daughter.
Type: One shot.
[stepmother] [Stepdaughter]
Start reading.
Look at doctor Sung Jinwoo, isn't he handsome and charismatic. I heard he was very popular among the doctors in the hospital, handsome and smart, the type of husband you want.
It's a pity that he just married a Japanese woman, Minatozaki Sana, His wife is so beautiful, a famous fashionista and has a large number of followers on social media. Even though she already has two children but her body shape curves hourglass, I even heard that she is a fashion model.
You know his eldest son, Sung Suho, isn't athletic and I heard he was selected as a basketball captain at his high school. Didn't his team win the gold climb thanks to his role as team captain.
Her stepdaughter is also beautiful as an angel, her name is Sullyoon, isn't it. I heard that she is the most outstanding female student in the academic field at school, always ranked first and is a representative of the science competition at her school.
That's what everyone who knows Jinwoo's family says but they don't know what it really is....
****
The cake sat in the center of the dining table, its frosting gleaming under the dimmed chandelier.
"Happy Family Anniversary" looped across the surface in elegant cursive, the letters slightly smudged where Sana's fingertip had swiped through the icing earlier—testing the sweetness, she'd claimed, though the hungry flicker in her eyes suggested something else entirely. Jinwoo adjusted his glasses, watching as Sullyoon traced the edge of the cake knife with deliberate slowness, her usual academic precision replaced by something far less clinical.
Suho leaned back in his chair, the basketball captain's jersey stretched tight across his shoulders.
"Shouldn't we cut it already?" he asked, but the way his gaze lingered on Sana's lips betrayed his impatience for something other than dessert.
Jinwoo cleared his throat, loosening his tie as the air thickened—not from the summer heat, but from the unspoken tension coiling between them.
The cake wasn't celebrating twelve years of marriage. It marked twelve months since they'd stopped pretending this was a normal family.
Sullyoon's laughter rang like wind chimes as she settled onto Jinwoo's lap, her school skirt riding up just enough to reveal the lace trim of her thigh-highs.
"Let me feed you, daddy," she murmured, pressing the forkful of cake toward his lips with an exaggerated pout.
The sweetness exploded on his tongue—vanilla layered with something darker, like the way her hips shifted ever so slightly when his fingers dug into the plush curve of her ass. Neither of them acknowledged the touch; Sullyoon merely tilted her head, strands of hair brushing his cheek as she asked.
"Delicious , right?"
Jinwoo nodded as swallowed another bite of cake, the sugar turning cloying as Sullyoon squirmed in his lap—whether from discomfort or encouragement, he couldn't tell, and the ambiguity sent a thrill down his spine. His thumb hooked under the waistband of her panties, the pad grazing warm skin.
Across the table, Sana cradled Suho's head in her lap, her manicured nails trailing idle patterns along his jawline. The basketball captain's jersey had ridden up, revealing a strip of toned abdomen as he leaned into her touch, his lips parting obediently when Sana pressed a bite of cake between them.
"Is it delicious , baby?" she murmured, thumb swiping a fleck of frosting from his lower lip.
Suho's answering groan vibrated against her thigh, his fingers tightening around the hem of her silk slip dress. The fabric slid higher, baring the smooth expanse of her legs, but neither of them glanced at Jinwoo—no hesitation, no guilt, just the quiet certainty of shared rituals.
Sullyoon exhaled sharply against Jinwoo's collar, her breath warm as she twisted to watch the scene.
"Mom's being greedy again," she whispered, nipping at his earlobe with sudden teeth. Her hand guided his deeper beneath her skirt, the lace of her panties already damp beneath his fingertips.
"She knows Suho can't resist her cakes."
The double entendre curled like smoke between them, underscored by the wet sound of Suho sucking Sana's fingers clean. Jinwoo's pulse stuttered—not from shock, but from the familiar ache of watching his family slot together in ways that should've fractured them.
After a years marriage, actually Jinwoo and Sana have no interest in each other, for one reason, not my type.
Instead, Jinwoo is more attracted to Sullyoon, Sana's daughter. Cheerful and spoiled girl.
Jinwoo remembered the first time he met Sullyoon—how her gaze had skittered away from his like a spooked deer, how her fingers had twisted the hem of her school blouse into wrinkled knots. He’d pretended not to notice the way her cheeks pinkened when he reached across the table for the salt shaker, how her breath hitched when their fingers brushed. Later, he’d lie awake replaying that accidental contact, the phantom warmth of her skin lingering on his fingertips like a brand.
Meanwhile, Sana prefers the type of young man who is full of enthusiasm, confidence and athleticism. That's what Sana found in the figure of Sung Suho.
Sana remembered the first time she met Suho—really met him—with the kind of clarity that made her fingertips tingle even now. Jinwoo had been fussing with his watch, lips pursed in that tight-lipped disapproval he reserved for tardiness, when the café door swung open with a gust of summer heat. Suho stood there, his basketball jersey clinging to his chest in damp patches, hair plastered to his forehead from whatever impulsive sprint had brought him here late.
"Sorry," he'd panted, flashing a grin so bright it should've come with a warning label. The apology was perfunctory; his eyes, though—those locked onto Sana with an intensity that made her stir her iced coffee three times too many. The straw clinked against the glass like a nervous metronome.
Jinwoo had known from the start that Sana wasn’t the kind of woman who would ever fit neatly into the role of a demure housewife—not that he’d wanted one. Likewise Sana, also doesn't like Jinwoo's rigid style.
It wasn’t disliked; it was something closer to mutual recognition, two predators circling each other without ever bothering to clash. He’d married her for convenience, a tidy arrangement that gave them both social legitimacy while leaving their real desires untouched.
The wedding had been a masterclass in plausible deniability—peonies arranged just so to obscure the way Sana's fingers lingered on Suho's bicep when they posed for family photos, the cut of Jinwoo's tuxedo jacket hiding how his palm slid beneath Sullyoon's bridesmaid dress during the first dance. The guests sighed over the blended family's picture-perfect harmony, never questioning why the newlyweds exchanged rings with more ceremony than a kiss.
Later, when the hotel suite door clicked shut behind them, Jinwoo loosened his tie with one hand while the other tugged Sullyoon into the adjoining bedroom by her sash.
"You looked beautiful today," he murmured against the shell of her ear, savoring the way her pulse fluttered under his lips like a trapped bird.
The chiffon of her dress pooled around her ankles with a whisper, and for once, the straight-A student had no clever retort—just a gasp when his teeth found the sensitive spot below her jaw.
In the suite's main bedroom, Sana perched on the edge of the king-sized bed, her wedding gown unzipped to the small of her back. Suho hovered near the minibar, cracking open a soda can with excessive force, the fizz echoing his nervous energy.
"You don't have to pretend with me," Sana said, peeling off one satin glove with her teeth.
The deliberate slowness of the gesture made Suho's throat bob—she'd practiced that move in the mirror for weeks, timing it to the exact second his resolve would fray. His basketball captain's discipline crumpled when she hooked a finger into the waistband of his slacks, pulling him closer with a laugh that vibrated against his collarbone.
"All those trophies," she mused, "and you're still scared of little old me?”
Present day.
The king-size bed creaked under their combined weight as Father and son seemed to be waiting for something that made them impatient.
The bathroom door remained stubbornly closed, the faint sound of giggles and rustling fabric slipping through the gap like a promise. Jinwoo adjusted his glasses, the lenses fogging slightly from the steam curling beneath the doorframe.
"They're taking longer than usual," Suho, remarked.
“Just wait it, Son”, The father pointed to the direction of his glasses.
The bathroom lock clicked open with theatrical slowness. Sana emerged first, her hips swaying with the practiced ease of a runway model—except no fashion week had ever featured lingerie this deliberately indecent. The pastel pink straps of her teddy clung to her curves like a second skin, the lace barely containing the swell of her breasts as she paused at the foot of the bed.
"Happy anniversary, boys," she purred, dragging a manicured nail down Suho's skin. The basketball captain's breath hitched audibly, his fingers digging into the sheets as Sana climbed onto the mattress with feline grace, her knees bracketing his hips.
Sullyoon's entrance was quieter but no less devastating. She hovered in the doorway, her white chemise translucent under the bedroom lights, the shadow of her nipples visible through the fabric as she bit her lower lip in faux shyness. Jinwoo's throat went dry. She'd worn her hair down tonight—a rare deviation from her usual schoolgirl ponytail—and the dark waves framed her face like a Renaissance painting gone deliciously wrong.
"Daddy," she murmured, padding toward him with bare feet, "Do I look hot and sexy enough for you, tonight ?" The question was a blade wrapped in silk, a reminder of all the times he'd called her his little girl while his hands taught her otherwise.
Jinwoo’s fingers twitched against Sullyoon’s thigh, the lace of her panties damp beneath his touch as if she’d been waiting for this all evening—maybe longer. Her breath hitched when his thumb slipped beneath the fabric, tracing the crease where her leg met her hip with deliberate slowness.
"You're so beautiful, princess," Jinwoo murmured against Sullyoon's jaw, his breath warm where it ghosted over the rapid flutter of her pulse.
The endearment made her squirm—not from discomfort, but from the way it coiled heat low in her belly, the contradiction of being called childish while his fingers mapped the adult curves beneath her chemise. When she opened her mouth to protest, Jinwoo swallowed the words with a kiss that started slow, almost chaste, until the tip of his tongue traced the seam of her lips and she gasped into his mouth.
The aggression came not in force but in persistence—the way Jinwoo's hands slid from her hips to her waist, then higher, as if cataloging every inch of her. Sullyoon arched into the touch, her fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer, nails scraping his scalp when his thumb finally brushed the peaked hardness of her nipple through the sheer fabric. The sound she made was half whimper, half moan, swallowed by Jinwoo's mouth as he deepened the kiss, his teeth catching her lower lip in a way that sent sparks down her spine.
Looks like the shy princess has started to get bold," Suho drawled from across the room, his voice dripping with amusement as Sullyoon's fingers twisted tighter in Jinwoo's hair.
She broke the kiss just long enough to shoot him a glare sharp enough to carve glass, her chest heaving against Jinwoo's in a way that made Suho's smirk widen. Then she was surging back into Jinwoo's mouth with a hunger that left no room for hesitation—tongue tangling with his, teeth nipping at his lower lip like she wanted to devour him whole.
Sana caught Suho's chin between her fingers, tilting his face up to hers with effortless dominance.
"Let your little sister have fun with your father," she murmured, her thumb brushing over his parted lips before she dragged it downward, tracing the column of his throat.
"Let's both enjoy ourselves."
The command was velvet-wrapped steel, and Suho shuddered as she guided his head against the plush swell of her chest, the lace of her teddy scratching deliciously against his flushed cheeks. He inhaled sharply—vanilla and something darker, the scent of her skin layered with the musk of want—before Sana's fingers carded through his hair, holding him there as she arched into his mouth.
Suho's fingers trembled against the clasp of Sana's teddy—not from inexperience, but from the way her smirk dared him to fumble. The pink straps fell away with a whisper, her breasts spilling into his palms like overripe fruit, still warm from the heat between them. Moonlight caught the light flush spreading across her skin, the pink of her nipples darkening as Suho's thumbs circled them with worshipful slowness.
"Look at you," Sana breathed, arching into his touch with a roll of her hips that made the mattress creak. "My greedy little athlete."
The first lick was tentative, Suho's tongue darting out to trace the stiff peak before he sealed his mouth over it with a groan that vibrated against her flesh. Sana's fingers fisted in his hair, holding him there as he suckled with the single-minded intensity of a starving man—teeth grazing, lips pursing around the areola until her back bowed off the bed.
"Urgh... You love it, dear," she gasped, her other hand guiding his head to her neglected breast. "Your stepmother's breasts taste better than any trophy, don't they?"
Suho lifted his head just enough to pant, "Yes, Mom," before diving back in, his lips glistening with her arousal as he switched sides.
"Your tits are so soft and fluffy", that turned pain into pleasure, the angle of his tongue that made her thighs clamp around his hips.
Meanwhile Jinwoo's fingers moved with the precision of a surgeon—slow, deliberate strokes that made Sullyoon's breath stutter against his collarbone. The lace of her panties had long since been pushed aside, the fabric damp where it pressed against his wrist as he curled two fingers inside her, the heel of his palm grinding against her clit in lazy circles.
"Urgh... Daddy, your fingers are inside me..." Sullyoon gasped, her hips jerking into his touch like a marionette whose strings had been tugged too hard. Her chemise rode up around her waist, the sheer fabric clinging to her sweat-slicked skin as she arched against him.
"I like that... Oh god."
Jinwoo grinned against the flutter of her pulse, his teeth scraping the delicate skin of her shoulder blade before soothing the sting with his tongue.
"You're too wet for dad, princess," he murmured, the words hot against her ear as his thumb circled faster, the pad rubbing rough over her swollen clit.
glock glock
The wet echoed obscenely through the bedroom, syncopated with the creak of mattress springs as Sana bobbed her head with the practiced rhythm of a woman who'd rehearsed this in mirrors.
Her lips stretched obscenely around Suho's cock, the pink lace straps of her discarded teddy still draped over one shoulder like a fallen banner of surrender. Suho's fingers clenched in her hair—not pulling, just anchoring himself as his hips jerked involuntarily, the head of his cock bumping against the back of her throat before she swallowed him down again with a hum that vibrated along his length.
"Urgh... Fuck... Mom," he gasped, the honorific twisting into something filthy as her tongue curled under his shaft, "your mouth feels so awesome around my cock."
The compliment dripped from his lips like the spit slicking her chin.
Sana smiled around the thick length filling her mouth, her lips stretched taut as Suho's cock bumped against the back of her throat—not a flinch, not a gag, just the deliberate press of his swollen tip against the tight ring of muscle before she swallowed him down deeper. The sound he made was ragged, half-strangled, his fingers tightening in her hair as she hollowed her cheeks and took him to the hilt.
Sullyoon arched against the sheets with a choked gasp, her fingers twisting in Jinwoo's hair as his tongue lapped at her with the desperation of a man who'd found his only source of hydration.
"Mmph... Daddy... Daddy... Your tongue—" The words shattered into a moan when he curled it just so, the flat of his tongue dragging slow and wet from her fluttering entrance to the swollen bud at her apex.
Her thighs trembled around his ears, the musky scent of her arousal thick enough to taste—and Jinwoo did, savoring the tang on his tongue like a connoisseur of some forbidden vintage.
He'd mapped this terrain a dozen times before, could navigate the hitch in her breath when he flicked over that sensitive spot just left of center, the way her hips jerked when he sealed his lips around her clit and sucked gently.
But tonight—anniversary night—he took his time, tracing lazy circles with the tip of his tongue until her whimpers turned pleading, until the lace straps of her chemise dug into her shoulders from how hard she was pulling at them.
"Please," she gasped, her voice cracking on the syllable, "please, daddy, I need—”
Jinwoo's breath hitched—not at the words, but at the way Sullyoon's fingers trembled against his scalp, her usual eloquence reduced to fractured syllables.
He kissed that dip slowly, savoring her shudder before murmuring, "Say it again." His teeth grazed her pulse point. "Properly."
Sullyoon's hips jerked against his mouth, her thighs clamping around his head as she gasped, "I need your cock, Daddy—" The last word cracked into a moan when Jinwoo's tongue plunged inside her without warning, fucking her with shallow thrusts that left her dripping.
The mattress groaned under their combined weight as Sana rolled her hips with the precision of a dancer, each downward thrust spearing herself deeper onto Suho's cock. Moonlight caught the sweat slicking her spine, the damp strands of hair clinging to her neck as she arched back, her hands braced against Suho's thighs for leverage.
"Oh... fuck..." she gasped, the words fracturing as Suho's hips jerked upward to meet her, the slap of skin against skin punctuating each movement.
"Fuck Mommy like that, baby—your cock feels so good inside me."
Suho's hands slid up her thighs, fingers digging into the plush flesh of her hips as he guided her movements, his grip tight enough to leave bruises.
"Mom, I love inside you—" he choked out, the honorific twisting into something filthy when she clenched around him, her inner muscles fluttering like a vice. Sana's laugh was low and throaty, her nails raking down his chest as she leaned forward, her breasts swaying just above his mouth.
"Say it again," she purred, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles that made Suho's back bow off the bed. His cock twitched inside her, the thick length of him stretching her impossibly wider with each shallow thrust.
"Tell Mommy how much you love it.”
The pillow muffled Sullyoon's cries but did nothing to hide the way her fingers clawed at the sheets, the fabric twisting between her knuckles as Jinwoo's thrusts drove her forward with each snap of his hips. Her chemise had ridden up around her waist, the delicate lace straps sliding down her shoulders to pool at her elbows—a half-undressed vulnerability that made Jinwoo's grip tighten on her hips, his thumbs digging into the dimples just above her ass.
"Oh, Daddy—" she gasped, the words fracturing when he angled deeper, the swollen head of his cock grinding against that sweet spot inside her that made her vision whiten.
"So deep, daddy, your cock... So deep inside me—"
Jinwoo's chuckle was dark, roughened by lust as he leaned over her, one hand sliding up to fist in her hair and tug just enough to arch her back. The new angle made Sullyoon sob, her thighs trembling as he pistoned into her with relentless precision, each stroke measured to drag against her walls in a way that left her dripping.
"You're so tight, princess," he murmured, his breath hot against the shell of her ear as his free hand groped her bouncing breast, pinching her nipple between thumb and forefinger until she keened, "Daddy isn't bored by your pussy."
She could feel him everywhere: the stretch of him filling her, the calloused drag of his palm over her nipple, the possessive grip on her hipbones that would leave bruises by morning. But it was the way his cockhead ached against her deepest point that unraveled her, the relentless friction coiling heat low in her belly until her moans turned pleading.
"Please—" she whined, her voice breaking as Jinwoo's pace stuttered, his thrusts turning shallow just to watch her squirm. "Daddy, please—”
The headboard slammed against the wall with the force of a battering ram, each impact timed to Sana's ragged cries as Suho drove into her with the single-minded intensity of an athlete chasing victory. The mating press pinned her beneath him—her legs hooked over his shoulders, her spine arched into a perfect curve that left her completely vulnerable to his relentless thrusts. Sweat dripped from Suho's brow onto Sana's heaving chest, mingling with the smeared lipstick around her gasping mouth.
"Fuck... fuck... harder, baby," she demanded, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave crimson trails.
"Break me."
Suho obeyed with a snarl, his hips pistoning faster, the obscene slap of skin echoing through the bedroom as he bottomed out inside her with every stroke. "Feel that, Mom?" he panted, his voice rough with exertion. "How your son's perverted dick stretches you open?" The vulgarity sent a jolt through Sana—not shock, but arousal, her cunt clenching around him as if trying to milk the confession straight from his cock.
"I like it," she gasped, her head thrashing against the pillows. "I love it—the way my stepson abuses my hole like I'm some cheap slut." The words unraveled into a scream as Suho angled deeper, his balls slapping against her ass with each brutal thrust.
The kiss was slow, deliberate—Jinwoo's lips moving against Sullyoon's with the same measured precision as his hips, each thrust timed to the flick of his tongue against hers. Her moans vibrated between them, muffled but unmistakable, the syllables fracturing whenever he bottomed out inside her with that particular angle that made her toes curl.
"Yes daddy... Mmph... So God... Like that... Oh—" Sullyoon gasped, her fingers clutching at his shoulders as he withdrew almost completely, only to push back in with excruciating slowness, the swollen head of his cock pressing against her deepest point until her back arched off the bed.
Jinwoo swallowed her whimpers, his hand sliding up to tangle in her hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head back and expose the flutter of her pulse.
He licked a stripe up her throat, savoring the salt on his tongue before murmuring against her ear, "You take me so well, princess", His hips rolled forward again, deeper this time, the stretch drawing a broken cry from Sullyoon's lips.
"Like you were made for daddy's cock.”
The moon hung heavy and swollen over the bedroom window—a voyeur painted silver by its own guilty light—as Jinwoo's thrusts stuttered into ragged, uneven jerks. Sullyoon's thighs trembled against his hips, her nails scoring crescents into his shoulder blades when he buried himself to the hilt with a groan that ripped from his chest like a confession. Heat pulsed between them, thick and syrupy as his release flooded her in waves, each throb wringing a whimper from her lips.
Across the room, Suho's hips snapped forward one final time, his spine bowing like a drawn arrow before he collapsed against Sana with a sound that was half-growl, half-prayer. The wet slap of skin stilled as he emptied himself inside her, his cock twitching with each spurt that painted her walls white. Sana arched beneath him, her fingers knotting in his sweat-damp hair as she milked him through it, her inner muscles fluttering around him like a vice.
The air hung thick with musk and sweat, the only sound their ragged breathing as the four of them lay tangled in the aftermath. Jinwoo's fingers still gripped Sullyoon's hips, his thumbs pressed into the bruises he'd left earlier, watching with dark fascination as his release spilled from her in slow, viscous rivulets. It pooled between her thighs, dripping onto the rumpled sheets with obscene finality—white against the flushed pink of her skin, stark as spilled ink on parchment.
Across the bed, Sana arched her back with a lazy sigh, her fingers trailing through the mess Suho had left between her legs. "Look at this," she murmured, holding up glistening fingertips to the moonlight, the strands of cum stretching like spider silk before snapping. She turned her head to catch Jinwoo's gaze, her smirk wicked as she dragged her wet fingers across Suho's panting chest.
"Your son fills me up so well."
Jinwoo’s chuckle was low and rough, his fingers still tangled in Sullyoon’s hair as he turned his head to meet Sana’s gaze.
The moonlight caught the smug curve of his lips, the sweat-slicked sheen of his throat as he rasped, "Your daughter can’t stop milking me too."
Suho's grin was all teeth when he turned to Jinwoo, his fingers still slick with Sana's arousal as he wiped them lazily across the sheets.
"Dad," he drawled, the word dripping with mischief, "you've gotta feel Mom's pussy at least once. Bet it's tighter than Sullyoon's."
Sullyoon’s lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout, her fingers tracing idle circles on Jinwoo’s sweat-slicked chest as she flicked her gaze toward Suho.
"At least Daddy’s bigger than your tiny cock," she sing-songed, her voice dripping with saccharine malice.
Suho and Sullyoon bickering like ordinary brother and sister in argue. This situation made Jinwoo and Sana chuckle
Sana's grin curled like smoke as she rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one hand while the other traced idle patterns through the drying mess on Suho's abdomen. "How about you two fuck each other?" she purred, the words dripping with mischief as her gaze flicked between Sullyoon and Suho.
Jinwoo chimed in, "That's exactly what your mother said," his voice rich with amusement as he watched Suho and Sullyoon's nose wrinkle in disgust.
"Never" . Both of them were rejected.
That's how the night happened—like any other night, woven into the fabric of stories the four of them shared: bodies tangled, breaths mingling, lewd warmth pooling between sheets damp with sweat and other things.
Ningning sat cross legged on the bed, her long black hair untied and flowing down to below her shoulders. She had been getting home tutoring for the past three months, her mom was Chinese and had typically high expectations of her daughter.
Although she found it stressful sometimes, like today where she'd only just gotten back from class to find David already waiting for her extra lessons, most of the time she actually enjoyed the challenge and opportunity to push herself.
Despite being fairly attractive with her pale skin, subtle Asian features, long hair and slender athletic build she spent most of her time studying or practicing so she had never had a 'proper' boyfriend. She didn't even think about sex all that often and just didn't get involved in her girlfriends' giggly chats about famous firsts.
"You know you don't have to wear a uniform at the college right?" David said looking up at here a smile on his lips.
"Haha, I know…but I like it. It helps me get into the right zone ya know? Anyway what's wrong with it?" Ningning shuffled and looked down at her plain grey skirt, blue sweater vest and white shirt.
"Oh..hehe no don't get me wrong I like it, I was just wondering is all."
"Usually you're not early or I would have had time to change!" she stuck her tongue out at him in a playfully mocking gesture.
"Nah stockings are definitely you," David said and moved his hand over onto her thigh.
Ningning looked up at him slightly surprised at the warmth of his hand, their eyes met as he slid his hand slowly under her skirt.
"Errm…what are you doing?" she asked as she explored the feelings suddenly rushing through her body.
"Just tell me to stop if you're uncomfortable Ningning." As he spoke his hand reached the warm centre between her legs and began to press against her panties.
"I..err..ss..David." She instinctively opened her legs slightly, letting them uncross as David moved closer and began caressing her pussy.
As he moved in and planted a soft kiss on her lips, his other hand stroking her hair she realized she'd been consciously ignoring how she felt about him for weeks. He was older but fit and well built but what really made her lie awake at night, was how gentle and patient he was. He seemed to know the answers to all her questions but never looked down on her for not knowing something. Not like some of the professors at the college did.
David's fingers had made their way round the side of her panties and were now gently probing her moist slit which brought her attention back to the moment. She kissed him deeply letting her tongue slip into his mouth.
"Lie back," he whispered huskily as he turned her side ways across the bed and slid down her body pressing his face and hands over her pert breasts as they forced against the material of her shirt.
Ningning sighed as David slid his thumbs under the sides of her panties and slipped them down over her legs. He then returned to her slit quickly and paused for a moment his mouth inches above her pink virgin pussy.
"You're so fucking beautiful Ningning," he said and slid his tongue slowly over her pussy lips.
Ningning gasped and pressed her head back hard into the bed as David began teasing and sucking on her pussy and clit. Every now and then he'd probe within her body with his tongue each time forcing a deep moan or excited yelp from Ningning.
David knew what he was doing and it didn't take long for Ningning to climax. Her tight young body tensing as her thighs and hips shook. As she panted enjoying the sensations, he leaned over her and planted a wet kiss on her lips while gently un-buttoning her blouse.
He then took her hands and lifted her up to the edge of the bed. The front of his pants were taut around his dick which popped out as he undid his belt and fly. Ningning looked up at him with a slightly unsure nervous expression.
"You wanna try?" David asked as he dropped his pants and held his rock hard cock in front of her face.
"Hmmm I guess…"
"You don't have to, if you don't want to…" he said stroking her hair.
"No it's okay I'd like to try it." She took his cock in her hand and cautiously licked the tip. David took her head in his hands and guided her mouth onto his meat. She slid her lips carefully around the head and explored the tip with her tongue tasting the salty precum.
David pushed slightly, sliding his cock deeper into her mouth; she slurped around the shaft as saliva dripped over her chin. Eventually David reached her gag reflex and pulled back as she continued to play her tongue over his meat.
"Fuck you're good at this Ning!"
He continued to pump slowly into her mouth for a few minutes and then pulled out. He knelt down again and slipped his hand between her legs probing her wet mound.
"Are you ready?" He asked pushing her back onto the bed and planting another passionate kiss on her lips as he continued to finger her.
"Mmmm…yes." David slid onto the bed near her and lifted her up onto his lap. "We should take it easy okay? Just go at your own pace."
Ningning took off the rest of her shirt and bra leaving only her skirt and stockings on, and then lifted herself up to position David's cock against her wet pussy. David took her by the waist and supported her weight as she slowly pressed downwards.
"Oh my god," Ningning gasped as his head penetrated her. David gave her time to get used to it before lowering her further onto his shaft. Eventually he felt resistance and Ningnings face bunched up into a wince. David paused for a moment and then lifted his upper body and pulled her down sharply onto his cock.
"OH FUCK!" Ningning squealed and started to struggle but David held her tightly until she stopped squirming and opened her eyes which glistened with tears.
"It's okay, just give it a moment for you to get used to it baby…relax."
The burning tearing pain in Ningning's pussy began to subside and was replaced with a wonderful sense of being full. It still hurt and felt like he might be tearing her apart but she was getting used to it slowly. Eventually David let her move and she slid off his shaft leaving a few blood trails.
David took control of her again and thrust back into her pussy holding her against his body as he thrust slowly and deeply into her.
"Un, un, un..oh," Ningning moaned with each thrust closing her eyes and enjoying the building sensation inside her.
Again her body convulsed and contracted sending shock waves up her spine and making her arch her back against David's arms that were clasped around her. Her once virgin pussy gripped tightly around his dick almost bringing him to climax with her. Ningning felt his meat twitch and throb within her and suddenly opened her eyes.
"Wait don't cum in me!"
"Don't worry Ning." David turned her over and laid her on the bed, then thrust a few more times into her tight wet pussy, before pulling out and blowing his load over her heaving belly and crumpled skirt. He then lay down next to her and smiled planting a quick kiss on her cheek.
"Wow, you are so fucking hot Ningning!" Ningning slid her hand in a circle on the sticky cum that was pooling on her belly and lazily rubbed her slightly sore pussy with the other hand. They lay there for a moment and then David got up and helped her back to her feet. "Okay you go grab a bath and I'll make lunch…when are your parents coming back again?"
"Not until like tomorrow. Probably pretty late too."
"Perfect. Get cleaned up and I'll be in the lounge…oh and make sure you put your stockings back on sexy," he winked and walked out.
About an hour later Ningning came through to the lounge wearing nothing but her towel and white stockings. As she entered the room she paused when she saw David and four other men sitting and standing around the room.
"Oh…errm did you invite people?"
"Hey Ning…yea these are a few of my friends, I was telling them about how cute you are and they asked if they could come over and meet you. It's okay don't be shy babe."
Ningning looked around the room nervously as a couple of the men moved closer to her on either side.
"Hey honey, I'm Matt and that's Rich. You know it's so warm out, I bet you could air dry pretty quick. What do you think Rich?"
"Yep I bet so. I know I'm feeling warm, might have to take my shirt off soon."
As they spoke the men slowly removed Ningning's towel and let it fall behind her.
"Holy Shit!" gasped Rich as various other remarks and compliments were muttered around the room, which made Ningning blush. While she felt very exposed she kind of liked the attention she was getting from all these sets of hungry eyes around her, and she could already see their hard-ons pressing against their pants. This made her heart pound with both fear and excitement.
"Come over here sweetie. I'm Vance and this is Tony. And I hear you know David pretty well already."
Vance was a tall guy who was standing near the couch. He beckoned her over and then pushed her shoulders slightly till she knelt.
"So, I also hear you have a hidden talent," he said with a smirk as he undid his belt and dropped his trousers. His cock was slightly thinner than David's but a bit longer and it stood pointing at the ceiling.
"Wanna show me how good you are honey?" he said as he took hold of Ningning's head with both hands.
"Wait…David?" Ningning asked turning to try and see where David was.
"It's okay Ning, these guys are my friends they'll take good care of you."
Vance directed her head back to his stiff member, pressing it against her lips. Ningning's heart was pounding but the thought of this room full of fit older men all looking at her naked body, kneeling on the thick white carpet of her parent's lounge was making her pussy wet again. Plus she didn't actually see any way out of this so she opened her lips and allowed Vance's cock to slip into her hot mouth.
Vance let her suck his cock for a few minutes then began slowly thrusting into her mouth. This made Ningning gag once or twice but she found that her reflex could be controlled more and more as she felt his engorged head pressing down her throat. She was actually getting into it with her eyes closed and low hums escaping her mouth round the meat, when suddenly she heard Vance grunt and his shaft twitched. He grabbed her head and pressed his cock hard into the roof of her mouth before blowing his load down her throat.
Ningning's eyes shot open and she gasped coughing and choking at the sudden taste. Vance let her go and she fell to the ground still coughing and wiping her mouth with her arm. As she recovered herself she felt strong arms lifting her up at the waist and she was picked up and dropped, still in a kneeling position on the sofa.
David moved round in front of her leaning down to kiss her cheek and as he did he whispered, "Relax sweetie." He then straightened up with a smile and presented his stiff cock to her face. As Ningning looked up into his eyes still unsure and scared, she felt fingers slide down over her pert ass and into her slit. She tried to turn to see who it was but David caught her head with his hands and guided her mouth down onto his rod.
As she began to suck she felt the fingers exploring her pussy, probing gently until they brushed her already sensitive clit. She involuntarily let out a quiet moan around David's meat which elicited sniggers and comments from around her. Then she felt warmth around her pussy and a tongue began lapping against her cunt lips. It was forceful and he clearly knew what he was doing as it didn't take long for her pussy to begin leaking juices again. As she sucked David's cock deep into her throat, she closed her eyes and moaned louder and louder.
For a few moments that felt like forever she was in ecstasy as the hot mouth pleasured her throbbing clit, and then suddenly it was gone. She whimpered around David's cock and tried to look back but her head was held firmly. She didn't have to wait long though, soon she felt the eager head of one of the guys' cocks slide over her dripping slit and press against her tight tummy. Then he drew back and pressed into her body hard, her eyes squeezed shut as she moaned loudly around David's meat until the guy bottomed out in her and held it for a moment for her to adjust.
David took hold more tightly on her head and almost in synchronization they both began fucking her. The guy behind thrust hard and deep but kept the pace slow, so she felt every inch of his cock ramming into her tight, wet pussy as David slid his shaft equally slowly down into her throat while she sucked, licked and drooled over it.
It only took a few thrusts more from David before he also blew his load deep into her throat. This time she was more ready for it and sucked hard swallowing every last spurt from his twitching dick. Most of her mind was focusing on the deep fucking she was getting from behind, and as David's cock withdrew from her mouth followed by trails of cum and drool, she grunted and moaned with each impact.
"Oh my god you are so fucking hot and tight!" the guy behind her exclaimed as he continued thrusting deep and hard into her soaking pussy.
"Oh…oh…oh," Ningning moaned again and again each time she felt her tight hole filled. Her eyes closed and mouth open she had almost lost herself to the intense sensations engulfing her body. She suddenly realized as the thrusting from behind became slightly more irregular and she heard the guy panting and grunting over her, she'd not seen any condoms on any of the guys.
"Wait!" She panted suddenly tensing up. "Where are you going to cum?!"
The guy behind her slowed and then pressed hard into her as he leaned down over her back so that his lips were near her ear.
"Five guys are gonna fuck every one of your holes all day long sweetie…don't worry we're gonna fill you up." He chuckled as he straightened up again gripping on to her hips and resuming his fucking fast and hard. Ningning's heart was now pounding and her eyes were wide as the fog of new sensations was lifted by what she'd just been told. She tried to move but the guy fucking her was holding on tight and ramming his cock into her as fast and hard as he could almost knocking the wind out of her with each slapping impact.
Ningning was being pressed forward as the guy's hands pressed down hard onto the small of her back. She squealed as her pussy burned from the intense fucking then suddenly the guy thrust one last time hard into her, jolting her body forward as he unloaded deep inside her young pussy. She felt every hot spurt as it blasted into her ravaged hole.
"Oh my fucking god…oh my fucking god," She moaned between ragged breaths.
Finally the guy slipped out of her tingling pussy dragging a trail of sticky cum that oozed out and down her pale thigh soaking into the stockings. Ningning was dazed again and just laid there her ass high in the air; her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth a breathless 'O'.
She didn't have long to recover before another set of hands was around her waist, lifting her up and re-positioning her over the third dick she'd taken today. She tried weakly to protest but the other guys were close in around her holding her legs and arms, caressing her breasts and fingering her dripping tender pussy lips.
The guy holding her waist sat down on the couch resting her on his pelvis, his rock hard cock pressing against her pussy. He let her fall back onto his bare chest and reaching round her sides guided his dick into her.
"Ow..ow..hmm..mmm."
Ningning's cunt felt sore and tender but the sensation of having it filled again was nice. This guy's cock felt wider than the others, stretching and satisfying her. Once he was all the way inside the others backed off, except for Matt who stepped up on the couch next to her and took hold of her head.
"Suck it slut."
Ningning looked up at him as he pressed his meat to her lips. 'Oh my god' she thought '…I am a slut'. Sure she's not exactly chosen to fuck all these guys but here she was and deep down she knew she was enjoying it.
Rich lifted her up slightly and then began thrusting up into her stretched pussy. At first Ningning was a little awkward in this new position, only able to focus on either being fucked or sucking but not both. Eventually as both dicks sawed into her she began to get her bearings and started using her legs to rock herself up and down on the shaft she was impaled on.
Once again the deep warm feeling flooded over her and she closed her eyes sucking noisily and wetly onto the hard cock between her lips while she bounced up and down, pulling almost all the way off Rich before slamming down until her ass pressed into his crotch. As she got into the rhythm she suddenly felt a new intensity building within her young body. She'd felt it before of course when she masturbated, but this time it was so much deeper and more intense; it built slowly growing with every thrust. Unconsciously her free hand moved to her bouncing breasts and she gripped and tweaked her rock hard nipples, then suddenly her orgasm hit her.
It was the most intense orgasm she'd ever had. Her tiny body shuddered; her legs flopped and shook while her pussy gushed around the meat that was still slamming into it. As her body was rocked by the climax she tilted her head back and howled around Matt's cock sucking onto it deep and hard as she tried to breathe.
"Holy shit!" Matt exclaimed as he looked down on her convulsing body still bouncing up and down on Riche's dick as she came. "You are one hot fucking slut!" He fucked her mouth hard for a few thrusts as she struggled to breathe and then withdrew jacking off vigorously until he too exploded over her face, blasts of hot cum covering her cheeks, sticking to her hair and landing in her still open mouth.
As her climax subsided Ningning stopped thrusting and went limp against Rich, who took hold of her waist again and used her to fuck his dick. Her pussy was still tensing and wet, gripping his cock like a glove each time he pulled her back down. It wasn't long before he came, pulling her down hard onto his cock and dumping his hot load right up against her cervix.
Ningning whined as she felt him cum, letting her self slump sideways as he let her go. Panting and exhausted from her intense orgasm she barely resisted as David picked her up by the waist rearranging her so that her legs hung off the arm of the sofa; she could just about rest her knees on the soft white carpet. She lifted her hand up to brush a few bedraggled strands of hair away from her face that had become stuck to the streaks of fresh cum and then tasted her fingers. All she could smell and taste was sex and her throbbing pussy ached to be full again, but she was still nervous and didn't really want to let on how much she was enjoying being used like this.
David slipped his hand down over her asshole and dripping pussy, pressing in and up against her clit. Ningning groaned deeply as he forced his fingers hard into her pussy. As he pressed, cum from the two guys who had already fucked her and her own juices oozed out into his hand. He then slid his fingers up spreading wetness over her virgin asshole and butt cheeks.
Ningning closed her eyes and sucked onto her fingers as she enjoyed this new sensation and David kept rubbing but she was naively totally unaware of his intentions…that is until she felt his finger pressing against her asshole.
"What are you doing?" She suddenly yelped lifting up and turning, but strong hands caught her and pressed her back onto the sofa.
"You'll see." David's fingers slipped and pressed harder over her tight virgin asshole, until he finally pressed one well lubricated finger into her hole. Ningning's eyes went wide and then pressed shut as he slid deeper into her ass.
"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck…please, please don't fuck me there!"
David just smiled and kept slowly but forcefully finger fucking her ass, while he caressed her wet cunt lips with his other hand. It didn't take long before her protests became less frequent interspersed with moans as she once again gave herself to the intense sensations. By now David had easily gotten two fingers up to the second knuckle in her tight hole and he could feel her pussy was hot and wet with fresh arousal.
Ningning sighed as he withdrew from her ass and felt a tremble of anticipation as she felt him stand close behind her, pressing the hot tip of his cock against her asshole. He paused for a moment sliding his strong hands over her pale ass cheeks and up her back eliciting a deep moaning sigh from her, before he thrust hard and deep ramming himself almost to the hilt in one go.
Ningning screamed in shock and pain as David thrust deep inside her, and her hands clenching into fists on the cushions. David pulled almost entirely out and slammed home again, leaning over her and fucking her hard as the other guys watched cheering and laughing.
Every time David thrust it felt like he was splitting her apart but even though it hurt Ningning could feel a warmth building deep inside her. Every time her hips were pounded into the arm of the sofa the cool air passed over her dripping pussy, sending shockwaves through her body which combined with the intense pleasure/pain of David's rock hard cock driving deep and fast into her asshole, and pounding her insides into the sofa.
Her eyes were wide, her mouth a big O shape as she gasped for breath with every impact and then suddenly she started to come again. It rippled through her body causing her pussy to gush, her juices leaking down the insides of her thighs as David continued his assault on her asshole, each impact sending new waves of pleasure through her convulsing body.
"Oh my fucking god, you are so fucking tight! You dirty little whore, you fucking love this!" David kept fucking her driving her hard into the sofa as she gasped and her knuckles turned white.
Finally David couldn't take it anymore and blew his load deep inside her raw asshole, pressing as hard as he could his hips flat against her ass cheeks. Ningning was breathing hard and deep, whining as she savoured the sensation of his hot seed pouring spurt after spurt into her asshole. Her body glistened with sweat and her mind was in a haze of sensation and lust as David's softening cock slid from her ass leaving a trail of sticky cum that dripped down over her engorged pussy lips and mixed with her own cum in streaks down her legs.
"Holy shit man, you fucked the hell out of that chick. How's that ass feel man?"
"Unbelievable…it's nice and lubed up for ya," David winked at Vance and gave him a high five.
Vance once again lifted Ningning up but this time she didn't have the strength to resist, she was just limp letting herself be used and abused by anyone who wanted her, her pussy and asshole felt empty and ached for more cock, despite the fucking she'd already had. Vance lay on the ground, and guided her cum dripping asshole onto his cock, her used hole resisted for a moment then she felt his hot dick driving inside her. He held her upright on top of himself as he slowly thrust up to meet her weight coming down, impaling her deeply on his manhood as she stabilized herself by spreading her legs wide, exposing her pussy which was still oozing it's creampie. He began fucking her slowly making her grunt and moan as he forced inside her used ass. His dick felt slightly longer than David's and the new position meant she felt him even further inside her than before.
Tony then came over and knelt between Vance and Ningning's legs. "Hold her down man; I want some of that pussy." He said to Vance, who reached up and round Ningning's waist pulling her backwards on top of himself. Ningning just moaned and closed her eyes as she felt Tony's cock rubbing over her pussy. Even though she was pretty stretched already, the sensation of two cocks filling both her holes at once was pretty painful and she winced as Tony thrust into her. The two men went slowly for a while until they reached a rhythm, and then they began fucking her with long hard alternating strokes, forcing deep grunts and moans form her with each thrust.
David had taken a seat, and was watching Ningning's tiny body as she heaved between the two guys. Her pale legs splayed out on either side, one high up supported by Tony while she tried to find a footing with the other on the smooth floor. Her pussy and asshole were a bright cherry red and glistened with cum which also stained her thighs and stockings. Rich who was getting turned on again at the sight of this once innocent teen being double teamed on the floor like a whore, headed over and guided his meat into her gasping mouth.
Ningning couldn't focus on half of what was happening to her and took the cock almost on automatic, breathing heavily through her nose she sucked him into her throat tasting his cum and her own juices as he began fucking her mouth like a pussy.
They continued to fuck all her holes in unison for several minutes before Tony finally came hard in her pussy, joining the previous two loads. He pulled out letting the final spurt cover her stomach as he stood up, then he moved round to her side and took her head from Riche's grasp so she could clean his dick off. Ningning sucked him letting cum and saliva dribble down her chin, her eyes closed as she focused on the thrusting cock still deep inside her ass.
Rich took her head back and slid his wet cock back into her hot mouth, using her head to fuck his shaft until he too came, pulling out and unloading over her lips and tongue.
Vance continued his intense deliberate fucking of her asshole for another few minutes and then pulled her down hard cumming deep inside her and holding her until it oozed out around his cock.
Ningning was in a total daze having had what seemed like a string of orgasms one after another for the last half an hour or more and just lay on the carpet panting and breathing heavily as she felt her pussy and ass tingling from the hard fucking she'd just received.
The guys helped her up and got her back in the shower where they cleaned her off making sure to wash the multiple loads of cum out of her used holes. Then they carried her to her room and let her rest.
A few hours later they woke her up and gave her something to eat. David was always there to reassure her and take care of her and they spent the rest of the day hanging out and fucking her one way or another. By the time everyone left it was the middle of the night and Ningning was raw and exhausted; she'd been fucked and used in every possible way for hours and her body ached. Despite her discomfort and the initial fear she realized she hadn't resisted as much as she could have or tried to escape and before he left, she'd made sure to get David's number.
The house was submerged in a sepulchral silence—the kind of silence that isn't peace, but a rope stretched to its limit, threatening to snap at the slightest touch. Upstairs, Yuna stood for a moment before her bedroom mirror, observing the results of her own architecture. She had stripped away everything unnecessary. She wore a black lace bra, so small and tight that her tits seemed to be fighting for their freedom, pushed upward to create a deep, damp cleavage in the center of her chest. Her nipples, already hard with anticipation, pressed against the thin fabric with an obscene insistence.
But the real danger lay further down. Yuna turned slowly, glancing over her shoulder. She wore panties that were little more than a G-string; a pathetic strip of black silk lost in the depths of her ass, leaving both round, tight cheeks completely bare. The dim light of the lamp highlighted the violent contrast between her slender, almost fragile waist and the width of her hips, which opened with an animal generosity to culminate in that perfect ass, sculpted by the gym and desire. Every time she shifted her pelvis, the flesh of her cheeks vibrated with a hypnotic softness, a slow sway that was a direct invitation to sin.
She left her room without a sound. Her bare feet barely grazed the cold wooden floor of the hallway, but the sound of her own breath, erratic and short, filled her ears. As she walked toward Juno's room, Yuna was conscious of every inch of skin exposed to the night air. She felt the lace rubbing against her tits and the minimal pressure of the string in her crotch, reminding her that she was practically naked, ready to be devoured.
She stopped in front of Juno's door. She didn't knock. She didn't ask for permission. She simply turned the knob with a torturous slowness and pushed the door open, sliding into the room like a shadow heavy with lust.
Juno was there, reclining on the bed, the light from the bedside table casting long shadows against the walls. He wasn't wearing a shirt; his naked, broad torso looked tense, as if he had spent the last few hours fighting an internal war against the memories of the living room. When the creak of the door alerted him, he looked up, and in that instant, time stopped.
Juno’s expression shifted from confusion to absolute shock in less than a second. His pupils dilated, capturing the image of Yuna standing in the doorway. From his angle, she was a surreal vision: the delicacy of her shoulders and neck contrasted with the visual explosion of her wide hips and that round ass that seemed to claim every inch of the room. The black bra barely contained the volume of her tits, which rose and fell rapidly with her erratic breathing.
Juno couldn't help it; he let out a coarse gasp, an animal sound that escaped his throat while his gaze descended, inevitably, toward the tiny panties that left her ass totally exposed. Desire hit him like an electric shock, direct and violent. Under the sheets, his cock reacted instantly, hardening with a painful force, marking the fabric of his pants with a thick, throbbing bulge screaming for attention.
Yuna said nothing. She remained there, leaning against the doorframe, letting him devour her with his eyes, savoring the desperation emanating from him. A small smile, almost imperceptible but loaded with malice, appeared on her lips as she watched Juno swallow hard, trapped in the abyss of his own hunger.
Yuna didn't wait for him to recover his speech or his breath. She moved away from the frame and began walking toward the bed with a calculated slowness, almost choreographed. Each step was an exercise in visual torture for the man watching her. From his perspective, the movement of her hips was hypnotic; the rhythmic sway made the cheeks of her ass, left bare by the G-string, bounce with a firm and provocative softness. The lamp light played over the smooth skin of her buttocks, highlighting that perfect, round curve that seemed to expand and contract with every step she took toward him.
Juno was paralyzed, his chest heaving violently. The air in the room had become dense, saturated by the scent of young skin and the electricity of forbidden desire. When Yuna reached the edge of the bed, she didn't stop; she slid onto the sheets with a feline grace, making the mattress give way under her light weight.
She settled beside him, but didn't touch him immediately. She lay there on her side, propping her head up with her hand and looking at Juno with eyes that feigned a devastating innocence. The black bra was so tight that her tits spilled over the edges, offering a privileged view of her fair skin and the hardened nipples rubbing against the fabric.
"Daddy..." she whispered. The word came out soft, almost like a plea, but it carried the weight of a chain binding him to the spot. "I couldn't sleep. I was thinking about what happened today in the living room... and I felt lonely. Can I stay here for a little bit?"
The use of that word hit Juno like a sledgehammer. "Daddy." It was the raw reminder of who he was in her life, the bond with her mother, the morality he was supposed to protect. But the sound of that voice, mixed with the image of that round ass pressing against the sheets right next to his leg, annihilated any trace of reason in his brain.
Juno tried to answer, but only managed a coarse clear of his throat. His hands gripped the sheets, squeezing the fabric hard to avoid the temptation of lunging at her. However, his body had already betrayed him completely. Under the cloth of his pants, his cock was so hard it caused him pain; it pulsed violently against the mattress, a brutal erection that left no room for doubt about his state.
Yuna noticed the bulge. She saw it and felt the heat radiating from him. At that moment, the mask of innocence began to crack, giving way to a predatory gaze. She moved closer, sliding her slender body against his, allowing the lateral curve of her wide hips to brush against Juno's leg. The contact was electric.
"My... " she murmured, dropping her voice to a dark purr. "It seems like someone isn't very relaxed. What's wrong, Daddy? Am I making you nervous?"
Yuna shifted slightly, arching her back so that her round ass pressed deliberately against his thigh. The soft, hot skin of her buttocks sank into the fabric of Juno's pants, creating a slow friction that made him let out a stifled moan. She let out a low giggle, loaded with malice, and slid her hand across his abdomen, moving slowly toward the zone where the tension was maximum.
"I know exactly how you're looking at me," she whispered in his ear, grazing it with her lips. "I know you're dying to touch me. I know that since you came over my ass in the living room, you haven't stopped imagining what it feels like to have me like this, naked and surrendered to you. Stop pretending... we both know you want me so bad it hurts."
Juno closed his eyes tight, clenching his jaw until his teeth ached. He was at the absolute limit. The pressure of Yuna's hips against him and the raw confession in his ear had finally broken his defenses. It was no longer a question of morality or respect; it was an animal necessity, a visceral hunger that only she could satiate.
Yuna felt the vibration of his body, the erratic breathing filling the space between them. She knew she had him exactly where she wanted him. With a slow and deliberate movement, Yuna lowered her hand past the limit, wrapping her fingers around the throbbing hardness under his clothes.
Yuna didn't rush to touch him. She knew that anticipation was a weapon far more powerful than the act itself. She stayed there, propped up on her elbow, watching him with a gaze that was simultaneously cold and hungry. The black bra was so tight that her tits seemed to want to jump out of the fabric with every breath, and the position she was in made the G-string sink even deeper into the firm flesh of her ass, leaving both round cheeks completely exposed against the sheets.
"Look me in the eyes, Daddy," she ordered in a whisper, with an authority that contrasted with her slender body. "Look at me and tell me you haven't thought about this since the first day you walked through that door."
Juno let out a coarse groan, closing his eyes, but Yuna moved, sliding over him to force him to feel the heat of her wide hips brushing his thigh. The contrast was brutal: the fragility of her waist against the power of her lower curves.
"Don't you dare close your eyes," she insisted, her voice dropping to a purr. "I know you've been watching me. I know that every time I walked past you in short clothes, or when I forgot to close the bathroom door, you felt like your heart was jumping out of your chest. I know you were dying to know if my ass was as soft as it looked from afar."
Juno opened his eyes, and in them, Yuna saw everything: the guilt, the self-loathing, but above all, an animal hunger that was consuming him alive. He tried to articulate a word, but his voice came out broken, almost non-existent.
"She's... she's your girlfriend's daughter, fuck," he managed to say, though his words lacked strength; they were the last thread of a morality already shredded.
Yuna let out a low, cruel giggle, moving her hips with a slow sway that pressed her round ass against Juno's leg. The friction was minimal, but for someone who had been holding back for months, it was like an explosion.
"That's exactly why it's so exciting, isn't it?" she whispered, leaning in until her lips almost brushed his. "The fact that you're my mother's boyfriend makes you crave my body ten times more. I've felt observed for months, Daddy. I've felt your gaze nailed to my tits when I bend over; I've felt how your eyes devour my ass every time I walk in front of you. Don't lie to me... tell me you want me. Tell me you're dying to break all the rules just to feel me inside you."
Juno let out a trembling sigh, and his entire body shuddered. The tension in his crotch was now unbearable; his cock was so hard that the bulge under his pants pulsed with violent force. The desire accumulated over such a long time—the constant struggle to stay "upright" while living with a temptation like Yuna—collapsed in that instant.
"Yes..." he confessed, his voice broken and hoarse. "Fuck, yes... I've wanted you since the first fucking day. You drove me crazy every time I saw you. I didn't know where to look to avoid wanting you, but I always ended up looking at your ass... thinking about what it would be like to have it squeezed between my hands while I hammer you against the wall."
Yuna felt a shiver of pleasure run down her spine hearing his raw honesty. The fact that the "correct" and "adult" man had surrendered at her feet was the sweetest victory. She settled better over him, arching her back so her tits brushed Juno's naked chest, while her round ass moved slowly against his thigh, marking a hypnotic rhythm.
"I love that you're so filthy on the inside, Daddy," she whispered in his ear, lightly biting his lobe. "I love knowing that while you were smiling at my mother, you were imagining what it would be like to make me moan. Now you don't have to imagine it anymore. Now I'm the one who decides what happens with that hard cock of yours."
Juno let out an animal grunt, his hands finally abandoning the sheets to grip Yuna's wide hips. His fingers sank into the soft, firm flesh of her sides, squeezing her with a desperation that bordered on pain. The air in the room was saturated with lust; there was no longer any room for guilt, only for the hunger accumulated over months.
Yuna smiled against his neck, feeling his erratic breath. She knew she had him completely broken. With a slow and deliberate movement, she slid her hand down, crossing the barrier of the fabric to wrap around Juno's throbbing hardness.
Yuna didn't start moving her hand immediately. She simply closed her fingers around Juno's hard cock, squeezing with just enough force to make him let out a stifled moan. She stayed like that, feeling the violent beat of the member against her palm, while she rose slightly above him to look down at him. The position was devastating: Yuna's tits, squeezed into the black bra, hung perilously close to Juno's face, and her wide hips created an obscene contrast with her narrow waist.
"Not so fast, Daddy," she whispered, her voice dripping with malice. "Before I let you feel what you really want, I want you to be honest with me. I want to know exactly how filthy you've been while I wasn't looking."
Juno was in a trance, his hands still buried in Yuna's hips, squeezing the firm flesh of her sides. His breathing was a mess—a series of short, deep gasps that filled the silence of the room.
"Tell me..." she continued, tightening her grip on his cock, "how many times have you jerked off thinking about me? Don't lie to me. I want the real number. How many afternoons did you spend locked in this room, imagining my ass was in your face while you came alone?"
Juno closed his eyes, shame fighting against raw excitation. But Yuna's grip was an anchor that forced him to surrender.
"Every... fuck, every single afternoon," he confessed with a broken voice. "Sometimes two or three times a day. It drove me crazy imagining what it would be like to strip you, how your tits would feel in my hands... I came thinking about the sound you'd make if I had you underneath me."
Yuna let out a soft giggle, a crystalline but cruel sound. She shifted slightly, making her round ass rub against his leg with a slow, circular movement, while her hand continued to keep Juno's cock prisoner and tense.
"I love it... I love knowing I've had you this desperate," she murmured, lowering her gaze to his crotch. "But there's something more. Something much filthier. I've noticed that some of my panties disappear from the laundry basket or show up shifted..."
The silence that followed was heavy, charged with a toxic electricity. Yuna leaned in further, pressing her tits against his chest, forcing him to feel the heat of her skin. Her eyes shone with a predatory curiosity.
"Tell me the truth, Daddy... have you smelled them? Have you taken my used panties to your face to smell me while you jerked off? Do you like knowing how I smell when I'm wet?"
Juno let out a grunt that was half-moan, half-sob of frustration. The fact that she knew, and that she asked him with this cold dominance, finished annihilating any shred of dignity. His cock gave a violent jump in Yuna's hand, pulsing with an almost painful force.
"Yes..." he admitted, opening his eyes and looking at her with animal desperation. "I did. God, I did it several times. The smell of woman you left on the fabric drove me crazy... it made me feel like you were close even when you were in another room. I'm a fucking sicko, Yuna... I'm a sicko for you."
Yuna smiled with absolute satisfaction. She had managed to strip him mentally before she did so physically. The power she felt at that moment was stronger than any orgasm; seeing him like this—reduced to a man dependent and perverted by her body—excited her deeply.
"Now you're being honest, Daddy," she whispered, grazing her lips with his. "Now that you admitted you're my dog... I think it's time I reward you for being such a good boy."
Without warning, Yuna began to move her hand. It wasn't a fast movement, but a slow and torturous caress, sliding up and down the length of the member, squeezing the base and gliding with pressure toward the head, where she felt the pre-cum beginning to dampen the fabric of his pants.
Juno threw his head back, letting out a prolonged moan as his hips instinctively rose, seeking more friction against her hand. His hands gripped Yuna's wide hips tighter, sinking into her skin, while the sound of erratic breathing and gasps filled the room.
Yuna's hand began to move in a hypnotic rhythm, but still over the fabric of the pants. The sound was dry; the rubbing of the textile against the hardened cock created an unbearable tension. Juno had his eyes closed, clenching his teeth while his hips rose involuntarily, desperately seeking more pressure. Yuna watched him with a smile of superiority; she enjoyed seeing how this man, who was supposed to be the adult in the relationship, was reduced to a bundle of nerves and desire under her palm.
"You're so hard you're going to rip your pants, Daddy," she whispered, her voice dropping to a hiss. "But I don't want you to feel the fabric... I want to feel how your cock pulses against my skin."
With a quick but precise movement, Yuna slid down and unbuttoned his pants, lowering the zipper with a metallic sound that echoed in the silence of the room. When she pulled away the garment and the underwear, Juno's cock snapped outward with violent force, liberated from the pressure. It was red, swollen, and glistening with the pre-cum already appearing at the tip. Veins were marked under the tight skin, throbbing to the beat of an accelerated heart.
Yuna stayed for a moment simply looking at it. The sight of that thick, hot member excited her deeply. She put her hand to her mouth, spat a generous amount of saliva into her palm, and then spread it over the shaft of the cock, wrapping it firmly.
The first movement was slow. *Shlip... shlap...* The wet sound of saliva mixing with skin began to fill the room. Yuna squeezed the base and slid her hand to the head, where moisture accumulated, making the glide fluid and slippery. Juno let out a long, deep moan—a sound born from the depths of his throat—while his hands sank into Yuna's wide hips, squeezing the firm flesh in desperation.
"Look at me, Daddy," she ordered.
Juno opened his eyes, clouded by lust. From his position, he had a privileged view: Yuna's tits swaying gently with the rhythm of her arm, and that slender neck arching while she concentrated on jerking him off. But the most hypnotic part was seeing how her hips moved slightly; every time she moved her hand up, Yuna's round ass tightened against the sheets, creating an image of pure obscenity.
Yuna accelerated the pace. They were no longer slow caresses, but fast and firm strokes with her hand. The *shlip-shlap* sound became more erratic and louder. Juno was on the edge; his entire body trembled, and his moans were no longer words, but animal grunts.
"Do you like it when I touch you like this?" she asked in a hoarse voice. "Do you like knowing that I'm the one in control of your pleasure?"
Without stopping her hand, Yuna began to descend. She slid slowly down Juno's body, moving down his abdomen while her tits brushed against his hot skin. The movement caused her round, firm ass to slide downward, moving with a feline grace until her face was mere centimeters from the throbbing cock.
Juno held his breath. The anticipation was so strong he felt like he might choke. He saw Yuna looking up at him, eyes shining and tongue moistening her own lips. The contrast between her delicate face and the brutality of the cock in front of her was an almost violent image.
Yuna didn't dive in immediately. First, she used the tip of her tongue to lick the drop of pre-cum glistening on the head of the member. It was a light, electric touch that made Juno arch his back and let out a stifled cry. Then, with a torturous slowness, she opened her mouth and wrapped the tip with her lips, sucking hard while her eyes remained locked onto his.
Yuna wasn't satisfied with a simple touch. Once she felt the violent pulsation of the cock against her tongue, she decided to swallow it all. She opened her mouth as wide as possible and, with a slow and deliberate movement, sank the member until the base hit her lips. She let out a muffled sound, a deep *glup* that echoed in her throat, while her eyes dilated feeling him filling her entire oral space.
Juno let out an animal scream, a muffled roar that shook his whole torso. His hands, desperate, no longer just gripped Yuna's hips; they lowered to her buttocks, digging fingers into the round, firm flesh of her ass, squeezing with a force that would surely leave marks. The contrast was obscene: Yuna's slender body, kneeling between his legs, being consumed by the brutal erection of a man who no longer had any shred of control.
Yuna began to move with a voracious rhythm. *Slurp... glup... slurp...* The sound of suction was wet and constant, filling the silence of the room with a carnal and raw music. She didn't just go up and down; she used her tongue to circle the crown of the member, creating a vacuum that sucked blood toward the tip, making Juno's cock swell even more. Every time she went deep, her tits brushed his thighs, swaying with the rhythm of her head, while her wide hips shifted slightly on the sheets, maintaining that perfect balance between fragility and carnal power.
Juno was in a state of pure agony. He felt the wet, tight heat of Yuna's throat enveloping him like a hot press. The fact that it was her—his girlfriend's daughter—draining him this way acted as a fuel that accelerated his path to the precipice. His abs tightened to the limit, the veins in his neck stood out, and his breathing became a series of short, desperate gasps.
"Look at me..." Juno managed to articulate through grit teeth, his voice broken. "Yuna... I'm... fuck, I'm going to cum..."
Yuna didn't stop. On the contrary, hearing that he was on the edge, she accelerated the pace. Her cheeks sank from the force of the suction and her eyes locked onto his, sending a clear message: *don't you dare stop until I say so.* She used her hands to massage the base of the member while her mouth worked with frenetic intensity. The sound was now a chaos of fluids; the *shlap* of her lips against the skin and the constant *glup* of her throat swallowing air and pre-cum.
Suddenly, Juno's body went rigid as a rock. His fingers dug violently into Yuna's round ass, arching his back backward while an electric spasm ran through his entire spine.
"Ahhh... fuck!" he screamed, a heartbreaking sound that broke the nocturnal silence.
In that instant, the first jet of cum shot out with violent force, impacting directly against the back of Yuna's throat. She didn't recoil a single millimeter. On the contrary, she tightened her lips further around the member and sucked hard, forcing every drop of the load into her mouth.
*Glup... glup... glup...*
Juno continued to pulse for several seconds, releasing thick, hot bursts that filled Yuna's oral cavity. She felt the salty, strong taste, the viscous texture, and the searing heat of the cum sliding down her throat. She didn't let a single drop fall; she made sure to absorb it all, enjoying the feeling of emptiness left in the man while she filled herself with his essence.
When the pulsations finally ceased, Yuna withdrew slowly. A thick, white string of cum remained suspended between her lips and the tip of Juno's cock, glistening under the dim lamp light before breaking and falling onto his chest.
Yuna didn't clean herself. She stayed there, kneeling, her gaze fixed on Juno, who lay on the bed totally exhausted, eyes lost and breathing erratic. She ran her tongue over her lips, savoring the remnants of the cum left at the corners of her mouth, and then swallowed with an audible sound, closing the cycle of power.
"Good boy, Daddy," she whispered, with a cold and victorious smile. "Now you know who you really belong to."
She stood up calmly, letting her wide hips sway as she walked away from the bed. The G-string still marked her round ass, which glistened for a moment before disappearing into the shadows of the hallway. She didn't look back; she knew Juno would stay there, empty and bewitched, processing the reality that he had just surrendered his will to the girl he should have protected.
Yuna closed the bedroom door softly, leaving behind the scent of sex, the moisture of the climax, and a man completely destroyed by forbidden desire.
The silence in the classroom wasn't an empty space; it was a physical pressure squeezing my throat, leaving me breathless as I tried to pretend I was paying attention to the lesson. Everything in that room smelled of dry chalk and that cheap disinfectant that irritated the nostrils, but the center of my universe was one single sound: the dry, rhythmic tap... tap... tap... of Eunbi’s heels hitting the linoleum floor. Every step she took seemed to mark the pulse of my own anxiety.
I didn't dare look at her directly, but my eyes—treacherous and hungry—remained anchored to the lower half of her figure. Eunbi walked with a rigidity that bordered on military; her back was so straight it felt like an impassable wall, and her chin was always held high, as if simply breathing the same air as us was a generous concession on her part. She wore a white silk blouse that was losing the war against her own body.
It was impossible not to obsess over them. Her tits were huge, absurdly large for her delicate frame, straining the fabric of the shirt to a critical limit. Every time she moved to write on the board or correct an error, the buttons of the blouse let out a dull groan, fighting not to pop under the pressure of that heavy, white flesh. I felt my throat tighten and the air grow dense, almost liquid. My palms began to sweat against the cold wood of the desk, and I felt a damp, throbbing heat begin to concentrate in my crotch, making my pants pinch my balls in an unbearable way.
"Silence..." Eunbi’s voice cut through the air like an ice blade. She didn't yell, but the tone was so dry and stripped of any trace of humanity that a violent shiver ran down my spine, leaving the hairs on my arms standing on end.
Suddenly, the sound of her heels stopped right next to my seat. Her scent arrived before she did: a cold, sophisticated floral fragrance that clashed violently with the stale smell of the classroom. I felt the atmospheric pressure change as Eunbi leaned slightly over me to check my notebook. At that angle, gravity did its job, and the neckline of her blouse gave way another inch. I stood hypnotized by the blinding whiteness of her skin and the massive volume of her tits which, although contained by a bra, overflowed with a natural arrogance.
I could see, with an almost painful clarity, the dilation of a small bluish vein running along the upper curve of her chest, pulsing to the rhythm of a heart that, on the outside, seemed made of marble. My breathing became erratic... short... shallow. My lungs were no longer absorbing oxygen, but Eunbi’s frigid perfume. The pulse hammered in my temples and I felt a drop of cold sweat slide down the back of my neck, descending slowly toward my shoulder blades while I stayed there, paralyzed, staring into that abyss of white flesh.
Then it happened. While she pointed out an error in my notebook, her fingers—long and pale as porcelain—accidentally brushed the edge of my hand. It was a fleeting contact, a touch lasting less than a second, but for me, it was as if someone had slammed an electrode directly into my nerves. The electric shock traveled up my arm, down through my chest, and ended with an explosion of heat in my balls, leaving me completely zoned out.
Eunbi looked up. Her eyes were two pits of indifference, icy and distant, while her dark red lips remained closed in a thin, severe line. There was no trace of lust in her; only a professional contempt that made my desire turn darker, more animal.
"If you dedicated as much attention to the books as you do to my movements... perhaps you wouldn't be failing," she let out with surgical coldness before straightening up and walking away.
I remained nailed to my seat, feeling my erection push against the fabric of my pants with a painful, almost violent force. I watched her back as she retreated, noting how the narrow, dark pencil skirt hugged her hips and emphasized the powerful curve of her ass with every step. The contrast was driving me insane: on top, she was an iceberg; below, she had a body that screamed contained depravity. I swallowed hard, feeling the knot in my throat and a desperate need to break that wall, to see this perfect woman reduced to something vulgar, wet, and animal.
The way home was a slow torture, a parade of residual images looping in my mind like a video. Every time I closed my eyes or the bus braked sharply, I was back there in the classroom, feeling the suffocating pressure of the silence and Eunbi’s glacial scent. I couldn't get the image of her massive tits straining the white silk of her blouse out of my head; I felt that the fabric was on the verge of surrender, that one more button of tension and all that massive volume would spill over before my eyes. The mere thought sent a pang of pain through my crotch, a dull throb reminding me that my body remained in a state of maximum alert.
Upon reaching my door, my hands trembled slightly as I slid the key into the lock. The sound of metal clashing against the cylinder echoed in the empty hallway, a dry echo that seemed to announce the beginning of my descent. I entered and slammed the door shut, a definitive noise that separated me from the outside world and its social rules. I leaned against the cold wood for a few seconds, breathing heavily, listening to my own gasps fill the silence of the foyer. I was drenched in a cold sweat that glued my shirt to my back, and I felt the air in the house charged with a static electricity that made the hairs on my arms prickle.
I didn't turn on the lights. I didn't want clarity; I needed the dimness to embrace me, to hide my desperation. I walked toward my room in the dark, guided by instinct, feeling how each step made my erection strike against the fabric of my pants with violent force. The friction of the rough fabric against my already irritated glans was both torment and pleasure. Entering the room, I collapsed into the ergonomic chair. The cold leather of the seat instantly stuck to my sweaty thighs, sending a shiver running down my entire spine until it hit my balls.
I stayed there for a moment in silence, staring at the black screen of the monitor. My heart hammered against my ribs—an erratic, animal rhythm. I felt a tightness in my chest, a mixture of frustration and hunger that nothing could calm. Eunbi’s coldness had left me in a state of toxic arousal; I didn't simply want to masturbate, I wanted to destroy that image of perfection. I wanted to find something as vulgar and depraved as the desire she had awakened in me without even touching me.
With a dry, mechanical click, I turned on the computer. The hum of the fan began to fill the void of the room, a monotonous noise that blended with the rush of blood pulsing in my ears. Suddenly, the blue, icy light of the monitor flooded the space, carving my silhouette against the dark walls and casting long shadows that seemed to observe my misery. The artificial brightness blinded me for an instant, but I didn't look away.
My hand instinctively went to my crotch. The button of my pants felt like an unbearable barrier. With clumsy, urgent fingers, I undid the metal and lowered the zipper slowly, listening to the metallic sound tear through the quiet of the room. I freed my member, which sprang outward, congested and hard as a rock, pulsing with almost painful force. It was so tense that I felt any excessive friction could break me. A drop of precum appeared at the tip, glistening under the blue light of the monitor.
I opened the browser. My fingers flew across the keyboard, but my mind remained anchored in the classroom. I entered a camgirl site—that digital sinkhole where morality vanishes and only flesh remains. I stared at the main page, sliding the cursor over thumbnails: bouncing tits, exposed asses shaking to the beat of cheap electronic music, wet lips whispering dirty promises. But nothing filled me. Nothing was enough because none of those women possessed that aura of glacial superiority that had left me shattered, courtesy of Eunbi.
I was looking for something more. Something forbidden. I began filtering by categories: "masks," "hidden identities," "exhibitionism." I wanted to find someone playing with the idea of a secret, someone who felt like an intrusion into their privacy. As I browsed, my breathing became a shallow gasp and I began to rub my erection with slow, almost torturous movements, trying to sync the rhythm of my hand with the accelerated beat of my heart. The heat in the room seemed to have risen several degrees; I felt a drop of sweat slide down my temple and slowly toward my jaw while my eyes frantically scanned the screens, searching for that final stimulus that would allow me to release the accumulated tension.
My fingers stopped dead on the mouse when a thumbnail appeared in the bottom corner of my screen. It wasn't the typical hyper-edited, glossy promotional image; it was a short video clip, dark, with dim lighting suggesting an intimate and clandestine environment. In the clip, a woman sat in what looked like a blood-red velvet armchair, but the framing was cruelly strategic: the camera was positioned at chest height, deliberately cutting off the face. Only the white curve of her neck and a delicate chin were visible, partially hidden by a black lace mask that gave her an air of depraved mystery.
I clicked with almost violent urgency. The sound of the mouse resonated in the room like a gunshot, and the screen went black for a fraction of a second before loading the live stream.
When the image appeared, I felt the air leave my lungs in one go. The quality was absurd—a high definition so sharp I could see every pore of her white skin and the glint of light reflecting off her body. But what left me completely zoned out were her tits. They were monumental. She wore a black lace bra, a piece of lingerie so small and tight it seemed to be fighting a losing battle against the flesh. The volume was massive; the cups barely managed to contain the weight, letting the upper part of her breasts overflow upward in white, tense, glowing curves that defied gravity.
I stood hypnotized, my hand squeezing my erection with painful force. I couldn't stop watching how those tits swayed slightly every time she breathed—a slow, rhythmic movement that made me feel like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. The woman didn't speak with words at first; she communicated through an animal confidence, a security in her own body that I found hypnotic. She extended a hand with dark red nails and began to caress the edge of the lace, sliding her fingers slowly over the upper curve of her chest, sinking the tips of her fingers into the soft flesh.
"Hello..." the voice finally arrived through my headphones.
It was a velvety whisper, charged with a liquid sensuality that surged through my body like an electric shock. I didn't try to analyze it; I simply let the sound invade me. It was a voice that commanded, seduced, and humiliated all at once, though I didn't know why. The woman on the screen leaned back, arching her spine against the red velvet. The movement caused her massive tits to rise even further, straining the lace until the fabric seemed to emit a dull sound of resistance.
I was already out of control. My breathing was an erratic gasp and I began to rub my member with fast, desperate movements, trying to follow the rhythm of the camgirl's caresses. I felt the precum lubricating my tip, glistening under the blue light of the monitor, while my eyes devoured every inch of exposed skin.
The model then leaned forward, approaching the lens. The movement caused her massive tits to hang slightly, swaying with a real, tangible weight that made me let out a muffled moan. Through the microphone, I could hear the wet sound of her own breathing—a contained gasp that blended with the white noise of the transmission.
"You want to see more... don't you?" she whispered, and that way of asking, that tone of superiority disguised as an invitation, made me grit my teeth.
I felt like a voyeur infiltrating a forbidden sanctuary. I was fascinated by the fact that she wore the mask; the mystery turned the act into something much darker than simple pornography. I wondered who she was behind the lace, what life she led outside that red room, while I watched her fingers now descend along her flat stomach until they reached the edge of a tiny thong that sank deeply between the folds of her generous ass.
The tension in my body reached an unbearable point. I was sweating, my skin felt hot, and the air in the room seemed to have thickened, charging with a sexual electricity that clouded my judgment. I stayed there, trapped in that loop of desire and mystery, observing how this unknown woman played with the audience, manipulating us all like puppets while she delighted in her own exhibitionism. I didn't know who she was, but at that moment, I didn't care about anything other than seeing how much more she was willing to show.
I remained petrified, my hand gripping my member in a frenetic rhythm I could no longer control. On the screen, the atmosphere had shifted; the tension was no longer just a promise—it had become a liquid and heavy reality. The camgirl let out a low chuckle, a guttural sound that vibrated in my headphones and caused a spasm in my balls. Her red nails, long and sharp, stopped caressing the surface of the lace to slide toward the center of her chest, right where the fabric dipped into the deep valley separating her tits.
"You guys have no idea how hard it was to shove these fucking tits into this bra today..." she whispered with a vulgarity that left me zoned out.
That sentence was the spark that ignited everything. I saw her hand move toward the back closure, and although I couldn't see the clasp, I heard the dry, metallic click resonating in the microphone. For a second, the lace stayed in place, held up only by the pressure of her own flesh, creating an unbearable visual tension. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she slid the straps down, letting the garment fall heavily onto her hips.
The visual impact was like a blow to the stomach. Her tits sprang forward with a violent bounce, liberated from the oppression of the lace. They were monumental, much larger than the bra had suggested; two white, heavy masses that swayed with a natural inertia, filling almost the entire frame of the camera. I lost my breath, watching as her white skin glowed under the studio lights, highlighting the perfect roundness and massive drop of her chest.
"Look at them... look how fat they are today," she said, while grabbing one of her tits with her hand, squeezing it hard to deform the flesh.
I saw how her fingers sank deeply into the soft tissue, creating red furrows over the whiteness of her skin. The pressure forced the nipple—a dark, erect circle—to protrude violently, pointing toward the camera like an obscene invitation. The sway of her breasts as she moved was hypnotic; every time she breathed or let out a moan, those massive tits oscillated, weighing in the air with an animal arrogance.
My own reaction was visceral. I felt my heart hammering against my ribs and sweat starting to run down my back, gluing my shirt to my skin. My hand was moving without rhythm now, driven by blind desperation. The precum lubricated my tip, making every rub wetter, more intense. I was so aroused that I felt an electric tingling running through my entire spine; my eyes couldn't detach from the screen, devouring every detail: the contrast of the red velvet against her pale skin, the dilation of the bluish veins running along the upper curve of her breasts, and the way she looked at herself, enjoying the power she exerted over me.
"Do you like them exposed like this?" she asked, while beginning to massage both nipples simultaneously, making fast circles that made them vibrate. "I want you to imagine you're here... I want you to feel the weight of these tits crushing your face."
I let out a muffled moan, closing my eyes for a second to imagine exactly that: feeling that massive, hot volume suffocating me, the scent of her skin flooding my lungs as I sank into that whiteness. When I opened them, I saw she had leaned closer to the camera, letting her tits hang heavily, almost touching the lens. The sway was slow, torturous, and the sound of her agitated breathing filled my ears like a depraved mantra.
I was on the verge of collapse. My body was in total tension, my muscles contracted, and my mind clouded by an animal lust that prevented me from thinking clearly. Only she existed—that monumental body hidden behind a mask—and the desperate need to release all the pressure accumulating in my balls.
The atmosphere in my room had become dense, almost sticky. The hum of the computer fan was now nothing more than white noise serving as a backdrop for the true symphony happening in my headphones: the sound of wet skin crashing against skin. I was in a state of trance, eyes bloodshot, and my hand moving in a frenetic, almost violent rhythm, while I listened to the camgirl begin to play with her own body in a much more explicit way.
On the screen, she reached for a bottle of transparent lubricant on the red velvet. I saw her pour a generous amount of the viscous liquid onto her palms, and the glup... glup... sound of the gel leaving the bottle resonated in my ears with a clarity that made my balls shiver. Then, she brought her hands to her massive tits.
"Now... I want you to hear how they sound," she whispered, her voice a dirty thread of silk. "I want you to feel the moisture through the screen."
Then began the auditory feast. She enveloped her breasts in lubricant, sliding her hands from the base to the nipples, creating a wet, sucking sound. Squelch... plok... squelch... Every time her palms slid over that white, glowing flesh, the noise was visceral—a symphony of fluids that made me imagine I was right there, my hands sunk into that massive volume.
I saw how she squeezed her tits toward the center, pushing them together with force to create a deep, glistening valley of lubricant. The sound of wet skin colliding was rhythmic and obscene. Clap... plok... She began to gently slap the base of her breasts with open palms, causing those huge masses to oscillate violently up and down. The sway was hypnotic; the weight of her tits felt real, tangible, while the sound of the wet impact against her own torso hit my mind like a hammer.
"Look at me... look how they glow," she gasped, and I could hear her breathing become heavier, more erratic. "I'm so wet I can barely hold myself up..."
I was at the limit. My hand no longer followed any logical rhythm; it was an animal movement, desperate. I felt the rub of my palm against my member lubricated by precum, and every time I heard a plok in the headphones, I let out a muffled moan that resonated in the solitude of my room. The contrast was torturous: I was there, alone in the blue darkness, while she, on the other side of the screen, became a creature of fluids and wet sounds.
The woman then slid one of her hands down, crossing her lubricated abdomen until reaching her crotch. I couldn't see it fully, but the sound was devastating. Squelch... plok... The noise of her fingers sinking into her own moisture was so explicit that I felt an electric shock run through my spine. She began to gasp more loudly, and the rhythm of her caresses accelerated, syncing with the violent beats of my heart.
"Oh god... I want you to watch me... I want you to imagine my tits crushing you while I sink into you..." her voice became a broken whisper, charged with an animal lust that clouded my judgment.
I felt suffocated by the tension. My breathing was a shallow gasp and I felt the sweat running down my neck, while my eyes devoured the image of her tits swaying and glowing under the studio lights. The sound of the lubricant being manipulated, the small snaps of wet skin, and those guttural moans escaping her throat created an atmosphere of absolute depravity.
I was so close to the climax that I felt an unbearable tingling in my balls. Every sound, every plok, and every dirty sigh pushed me further toward the abyss. I imagined myself there, holding that massive weight, feeling the viscosity of the lubricant between my fingers and the heat of her white skin against my face. The psychological tension was unbearable; it was no longer just about sex, but a total surrender to that wet symphony that was breaking me from the inside.
I was on the very edge of the abyss. My hand moved with desperate violence over my member, which was so congested and tense I felt the skin was going to tear. My eyes were glued to the screen, absorbing every detail of that lubricated, glowing woman, while my ears continued processing the wet, dirty sounds emanating from the headphones. I felt small, vulnerable, and completely dominated by a digital image, but at the same time, I experienced an animal euphoria that clouded any trace of reason.
On the screen, she had reached a point of critical intensity. Her gasps were no longer seductive whispers, but broken, deep breaths that made her huge tits oscillate violently with every exhalation. I could see how sweat began to bead on her white skin, mixing with the transparent lubricant and creating an almost iridescent glow under the studio lights. She moved with a frenetic urgency, arching her back against the red velvet, while her fingers continued working in her crotch with a relentless rhythm.
"God... I'm going crazy..." she let out, her voice sounding raspy, charged with a need that resonated in my own body like an echo.
Suddenly, something happened that broke the monotony of pleasure. In the middle of a spasm of pleasure, she leaned too far forward, almost crashing into the camera. I saw how a small drop of lubricant or sweat had splashed onto the lens, partially blurring the image and creating a hazy halo over the whiteness of her chest. She let out a grunt of frustration, a guttural sound that made me grit my teeth while I continued rubbing with blind speed.
"Damn it..." she whispered, and the tone of annoyance in her voice was so natural, so human, that for a second it pulled me out of the erotic trance.
I saw her extend her hand toward the camera to clean the lens. It was a quick movement, but for me, it happened in slow motion. In that instant of distraction, as she stretched to reach the lens, the strap of her black lace mask—which was already soaked with sweat and lubricant—gave way. The fabric slid slowly down the curve of her temple, driven by the weight of the wet lace and the abrupt movement of her head.
Time stopped. My hand froze over my erection, precum dripping slowly while my eyes dilated, fixing on the space opening beneath the mask. The lace didn't fall completely, but it slid enough to reveal the upper part of her face. First, I saw the perfect line of a delicate jaw, then the curve of red, wet lips that were slightly parted, letting out hot gasps.
But it was the next movement that left me breathless. To adjust the mask and prevent it from falling completely over her face, she raised her hand and pulled the lace upward with a sharp gesture, fully exposing her gaze for a few seconds.
I felt a violent lurch in my stomach, a sensation of freefall that left me zoned out. The world around my room disappeared; I no longer heard the hum of the fan or felt the cold chair under my thighs. Everything was reduced to those eyes. Eyes that I knew all too well—icy, distant eyes that had spent the last few months judging me from the front of a classroom.
The mask fell back into place almost immediately after she finished adjusting it, but the damage was done. My brain entered a state of electric shock. The image of the perfect teacher—cold and unreachable—fused violently with the image of this depraved, lubricated woman exhibiting herself naked before thousands of people. The contrast was so brutal that I felt a pang of pain in my balls, a psychological tension that surpassed any physical arousal.
I stayed there, breath suspended, staring fixedly at the screen now that she was hidden again. My heart hammered against my ribs with destructive force. It couldn't be her... it was impossible. But my instinct told me I had just opened a door that could not be closed. The excitement was no longer just sexual; it had transformed into something much darker, a feeling of power and discovery that made my jaw tremble.
I stayed frozen, hand suspended over my member, feeling the precum drip slowly while my mind tried to process the short circuit it had just suffered. The world had shrunk to that small square of blue light and the echo of the woman's gasps on the screen. I knew it was her; my instincts, fed by months of silent obsession in the classroom, screamed at me that there was no room for error. But I needed the definitive proof—the irrefutable detail that would transform a suspicion into an absolute fact.
The camgirl, now with the mask back in place but visibly agitated, moved even closer to the camera. She was so close that her breath slightly fogged the edges of the lens, and her massive, lubricated, glowing tits occupied the entire lower frame, swaying heavily with every movement. She let out a long moan, a sound that vibrated in my ears like a forbidden confession.
"God... I'm so turned on my legs are shaking..." she whispered, and that exact inflection—that way of dragging her words when she lost control—was Eunbi’s vocal signature.
Then, the exact moment happened. To wipe away one last drop of sweat sliding down her cheek, she tilted her head slightly to the right, stretching the skin of her face and shifting the mask just a few millimeters upward. It was a fleeting instant, a blink in the transmission, but for me, it was as if a spotlight had been turned on in my face.
There it was.
Just below the left eye, on that white, perfect skin that looked like porcelain, stood out a small dark mole—almost imperceptible to anyone, but iconic to someone who had spent hours studying every inch of Eunbi’s face in the classroom. It was the same location, the same shape, the same distinctive mark she always tried to hide with impeccable makeup during school hours.
I felt an electric spark surge through my entire spine, a discharge so violent it made me arch my back against the chair's headrest. The air in my room vanished; I felt my lungs closing while my heart hammered against my ribs with destructive force. It wasn't just surprise; it was a brutal mental clash. The dichotomy was unbearable: the cold, distant, and severe teacher who humiliated me with a glacial gaze was the same vulgar, depraved woman who was currently touching her ass and exhibiting her huge tits to thousands of strangers for money.
The revelation acted as a physiological trigger. My erection, already at its limit, jumped to a level of tension that was almost painful. I felt blood congesting in my member with violent pressure, making the glans throb with animal force. It was no longer just sexual desire; it was the intoxicating feeling of power. The fact of possessing her secret—of knowing exactly what this woman did when she closed her bedroom door and took off her mask of perfection—triggered a wave of adrenaline that left my fingers trembling.
"It's you..." I whispered in the darkness of my room, my own voice sounding husky, charged with a dark lust. "It's you, damn it..."
I imagined Eunbi tomorrow in the classroom, standing before us with her white blouse tight and her look of contempt, not knowing that I had seen every corner of her lubricated body, not knowing that I had heard her filthiest moans. The idea of looking into her eyes while knowing that beneath those formal clothes she hid that monumental, depraved body caused a spasm in my balls that almost made me lose my balance.
The woman on the screen let out a stifled scream, an auditory climax that resonated in my headphones as she shook violently against the red velvet, her tits oscillating with brute force. I couldn't take any more. The combination of psychological shock and visual stimulation was too much. With a desperate, blind movement, I gripped my member hard and let out all the air from my lungs in a raspy moan.
I came violently, feeling the semen spray against my abdomen and the monitor screen, while my body shook in spasms of pleasure and triumph. I stayed there, panting in the dimness, eyes fixed on the image of the woman who was beginning to regain her calm in the video. Silence returned to fill the room, but it wasn't the same silence as before. Now it was a silence charged with complicity and danger.
I leaned back in the chair, feeling my pulse slowly drop but the obsession grow. I looked at my own hands, still trembling, and then I looked at Eunbi—or rather, the camgirl—on the screen. A dark smile spread across my face. The game had changed completely. She was no longer the predator who humiliated me in class; now I was the one holding the leash around her neck.
I stayed there, sunk into the chair, chest heaving violently as I caught my breath. The scent of sex and sweat filled the air of my room, but my mind was not at peace; it was on fire. The adrenaline rush following the climax left me in a state of hyper-alertness. I couldn't simply turn off the computer and go to sleep. I needed more. I needed to dig deeper into this hole, tracking every digital trace of this woman to ensure there wasn't a single doubt remaining.
With fingers still trembling and gaze fixed on the monitor, I returned to the camgirl's profile. I began exploring every section, every small, hidden link in her bio. I knew models of this level rarely limited themselves to live streams; they usually had digital ecosystems where they fed their followers' hunger between sessions.
And then I found it. A tiny icon, a direct link to a social media account tied to an exclusive content service. I clicked with the same urgency I had used to pull down my pants a few minutes prior.
When the page loaded, I felt my heart leap against my ribs. It wasn't a live stream; it was a gallery. A massive collection of photographs and short videos organized chronologically. The first thing I noticed was the unwritten rule of the profile: she never, absolutely never, showed her face. All photos were carefully framed from the neck down or from the chin up. It was a calculated game of voyeurism, an invitation to focus exclusively on the flesh.
I began scrolling slowly, feeling my pulse accelerate again. The first photo was a close-up of her tits pressed against clear glass. She wore no clothes; only drops of water sliding down the white, glowing skin, highlighting the massive volume of her breasts and the darkness of her erect nipples. I stood zoned out, comparing that image with the memory of her in the classroom. It was impossible for it not to be her. The scale, the shape, the texture of the skin... everything matched.
I scrolled further and found a series of photos where she posed from behind, in front of a steamed-up mirror. She wore a white shirt identical to the one she used for teaching, but it was open, falling off her shoulders and letting her tits hang heavily forward while she looked at her own ass in the reflection. The contrast was brutal: the "perfect teacher" clothes used as accessories to highlight her depravity. Her hips were wide, powerful, and her ass looked firm and rounded, marking a silhouette I had memorized while she walked in front of the chalkboard.
"Damn it..." I whispered, feeling a damp heat concentrate in my crotch again. "You really are an exhibitionist..."
I moved on to the fully nude photos. There were images where she lay on black sheets, opening her legs with an animal confidence that left me breathless. The lighting was dim, but the sharpness allowed me to see every detail: the fine blonde hair of her pubis, the glistening moisture of her vaginal lips, and the way her huge tits flattened against the mattress due to gravity.
What obsessed me most was finding a photo where she held a textbook... the same literature book she used in class. She was naked, leaning against a white wall, holding the book in front of her chest to partially cover her tits, but letting the bottom part of them overflow beneath the volume of the paper. It was an implicit message, a perverse game. She knew exactly who her followers were and what fantasies she was feeding.
I felt as if I were reading her most intimate diary, but written in carnal language. Each photo was a piece of a puzzle that gave me total control over her. I noted the small details: a birthmark on the back of her thigh, the exact way her fingers bent when caressing herself, the glow of her skin under different lights.
I leaned back in the chair, staring at the dark ceiling of my room while the blue glow of the monitor continued to illuminate my hands. It was no longer just a suspicion based on a mole and a voice; I had a complete archive of her depravity. I had visual proof that the coldest, most distant woman in the institute spent her nights photographing herself naked, exposing her massive tits and her ass to the entire world for the pleasure of being watched.
A slow, dark smile formed on my face. The image of severe Eunbi, correcting my exams with contempt, fused definitively with the image of the lubricated, naked woman in the photos. The power I felt now was intoxicating, almost stronger than the orgasm I had just experienced. I imagined entering the classroom tomorrow, staring her straight in the eyes while she spoke to me with coldness, knowing that I had every inch of her exposed skin on my phone.
"This is the fourth time this week I have been working late," you warn as you throw the hotel room keys onto the desk. For almost all of those concerned, the overtime is killer, and if you're keeping track - which Wonyoung almost certainly is - then the hours are tallying up to something bordering unprecedented.
Unprecedented is, for all intents and purposes, an apt descriptor. Take, for example, how you grab Rei's ass: she leans into you, her legs hooking around your hips, her arms wrapping around your neck. The way she kisses you is equally unprecedented, her teeth brushing along your lower lip and her tongue pushing into your mouth like she wants to taste every last inch of you.
It's not, all things considered, a bad way to wind down after a long day. It is, however, entirely unfaithful to the woman waiting at home for you. But then again, that's rather the point. It's all part of the fun: the lies, the locked-office-door sex, the way you eye each other across the bullpen and have to pretend you aren't thinking of the way she feels beneath you, or how she sounds when you're buried inside her. Rei's lips leave yours with a sigh, and you can see in her eyes that she's every bit as hungry as you are.
"Missed you," she breathes, tugging at your tie, loosening the knot.
"Been two days, Rei.”
"Too long."
You kiss her again, and it's hard to argue with that. Her hands are working your shirt free of your trousers, fingertips brushing your skin, while your hands are sliding up her thighs, pushing her skirt up with them. You hit the little black garter on her thigh. You knew it was there, you spotted it earlier when she totally-not-for-your benefit dropped her pen under the desk, but it's still a pleasant discovery. You hook your fingers beneath it, snap it against her skin, making her gasp into your mouth.
Rei's fingers are quick at your buttons, and she pulls your shirt open, her hands sliding over your chest, nails scraping lightly. You groan against her lips, and she smiles, smug and satisfied. "You're tense," she observes.
"You try sitting through a four-hour director meeting and see how relaxed you are," you retort, and she laughs, an airy sound that makes you want to hear it again and again.
You back her up against the desk, and she hops up, legs spreading to make room for you between them. You kiss her neck, and she tilts her head back, giving you better access. Your teeth graze her skin, and she shivers, her fingers tangling in your hair. "I have to sit through your budget reviews, too, you know," she whispers. "They're just as boring."
"But you get to look at me the whole time," you point out, and she laughs again, pulling your face up to kiss you.
She hums a little agreement before telling you the worst-kept secret of how difficult it is to be only twenty minutes into the meeting and already dripping wet. "I mean, you're up there, looking all serious and professional," she says, her fingers undoing your belt. "And I'm just thinking about how I want you to bend me over the desk and fuck me right there."
You groan because that is entirely not helpful when you're trying to keep things together for the sake of the shareholders.
"So when you had to step out of the room," Rei continues, "it took everything I had to not just follow you out and drop to my knees and suck your cock right there in the hallway."
You grip her hips, pulling her closer to the edge of the desk, your cock pressing against her through your trousers. "Fuck, Rei," you groan, and she smirks at that.
She reaches between you, palming your length through the fabric, and you hiss, your hips jerking forward. "You're already so hard," she purrs.
"And yet, you're still so well-dressed." You start at her top shirt button, popping it open. Then the next. "I think we need to remedy that."
She bites her lip, eyes bright with anticipation, and you work your way down the line of buttons, revealing the black lace of her lingerie. You're not sure what's sexier: the underwear itself, or the fact that she's been wearing it under her work clothes all day. A body like that, you just have to taste, so you’re leaning down, kissing the swell of her breasts just above the fabric, and she hums in appreciation.
"All these hotel rooms cost a pretty penny." She’s probably right, but it’s not like you would know - the company is footing the bill for these little trysts. You’re going to argue that it’s all worth it for the look in her eyes, for the way she feels against you, for the way she's looking at you like you're the only thing that matters right now.
"I think it's a sound investment," you tell her before kissing her again, and then argue, "Good for morale."
"Mhm, I would say so. My morale is definitely up."
Then your hands are sliding up her sides, reaching her bra and pushing it up to expose her tits. You take one in your hand and just play with it so casually. Even that has her letting out deep breaths. You have to taste her. Your mouth finds her nipple, and you tease it with your tongue, making her continue those sweet sighs.
In response, her hand tightens on your cock, stroking you a little harder. "Feels so good.”
You move to her other breast, giving it an equal share of love, while your free hand slides down her stomach and slips under her skirt. You find her panties. Fuck, she’s wet. You press your fingers against her, and she whimpers, her hips rolling against your hand.
"Already so wet for me.”
"Always wet for you," she says, and fuck, that does something to you. You growl a little, nipping at her breast, making her cry out. Your fingers push her panties aside, sliding through her folds. You find her clit. You circle it lightly, and the response comes in a shudder and the clench of her thighs on your sides.
"I love how easy you are."
"Calling me a slut?" Rei asks as she unfastens your trousers, and you laugh into the valley of her breasts.
"Is that what you want me to call you?" You kiss up her chest now before nipping at her collarbone. You want to hear her say it - want to hear her admit how much she loves it when you call her a needy little thing.
"Maybe." Her hand slips into your boxers, wrapping around your cock, and you groan, your hips thrusting into her grip. "Maybe I just want you to fuck me like one."
Yeah, that’s the point here, Rei. Accompanied by a kiss, you push your fingers inside her so easily. You curl them, and before long, she breaks the kiss, her forehead against yours as she moans.
"I'm the best hour of your day," Rei teases, and it’s not entirely true, if not entirely false.
"Second best," you say with a little bite. "It's not like Wonyoung doesn't keep me pretty happy at home."
And that, right there, is the thing - the line that makes this so fucking hot. The way she knows you have someone else, and she doesn't care. She likes it, even. It gets her off just as much as it gets you off. You can feel her clench around your fingers, and you know she's thinking about it, about how she's the other woman, the side piece, the dirty little secret.
"Lucky her," Rei groans. "Getting you all to herself at night."
"Evening, night, morning - every chance we get."
You pull your fingers out of her, and she whines, but it doesn’t last long because you're already pushing her skirt up higher. Then go her panties in the other direction. She lifts her hips to help you, and soon you toss them aside. You spread her thighs. She places one hand behind her on the wood, keeping herself propped up, and with the other, she guides the head of your cock to her entrance. It all seems so rehearsed, which is a testament to the number of times you’ve had her like this.
"Where do you get the energy -"
She doesn't finish the sentence, too busy gasping as you push into her, slow and steady. She's so wet and so warm around your tip. There is a moment where you just look at each other, both breathing heavily, and then you start to move, your hips rolling as you fuck her on the desk, and you tell her, "Proper motivation."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"Something about knowing someone else is waiting for me at home," you say, and she moans, her head falling back. "Makes me want to fuck you even harder."
"Fuck," she gasps, her fingers digging into your shoulders. "That's so fucked up."
"Knowing that ‘the someone at home’ is going to suck your cum off my cock when I get home." You start to thrust a little faster, a little harder. It always goes like this, as you both descend into cheating madness. "And she has no idea."
Rei's eyes are glazed over, her lips parted as she pants, and you take the chance to capture her soft lips again. She kisses back just as hard.
Her nail scrape down your back as she pulls off your shirt. You can feel the sting, but it just spurs you on, your hips snapping against hers over and over.
You want to mess her up. You want to ruin her, to mark her, to make her forget her own name. It’s all primal thoughts when you’re alone with her. You want to fuck her so good she can't think straight, can't remember anything but your cock and the way you feel inside her.
So you do just that. You fuck her hard and deep. Your hands are on her hips, and you pull her into every thrust. She's making the most delicious sounds - little whimpers and moans that go straight to your cock.
There's this thing about Rei - call it a habit or call it an addiction - she's got this need to be a little bit mean, to be a little bit cruel, even when she's getting her brains fucked out. You can feel it in the way she's digging her nails into your skin, in the way she's clenching around you, trying to milk you for all you're worth. So you give her a little of what she wants, and you whisper in her ear, "Wonyoung would hate you, you know."
Rei barely manages a few expletives in response.
"She'd scratch your eyes out if she knew what we were doing." You punctuate your words with a particularly hard thrust, and she cries out. "But I guess that's part of the fun, isn't it? The thought of her finding out?"
"Yes," Rei hisses. "Fuck, yes."
"You love it, don't you? You love being the dirty little secret, the one I come to when I need a little extra."
With that, she's got a hand on the back of your head, pulling you hard against her, into the crook of her neck. Her lips are right at your ear, and between the moans and the ragged breaths, she's throwing out these little fragments of self-degradation. "I'm just a quick fuck to you," she says. "Just a warm hole to stick your cock in when you're bored of her."
She's not wrong, but you love hearing her say it, love the way she's getting off on her own humiliation. So you tell her she's right, and you kiss her neck. You’re all teeth - it’s a little aggressive. "But you're so fucking good at it," you growl. "You're such a good little slut for me."
"Fuck, yes," she whines, and you can feel her getting close, her body tensing up, her nails digging into your scalp. "I'm your little slut, I'm your dirty little secret, I'm—fuck, I'm gonna cum."
You can feel it too, that telltale tightening around your cock and hear it in the way her breath hitches. So you push her right over the edge. Your thumb finds her clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles as you keep pounding into her. She screams, her whole body convulsing, and you feel her gush around your cock as her juices soak both of you.
"See, you're always so easy." She's nodding along, or at least doing her best to; some form of vague agreement is hidden in the way she's falling apart. There's this signature way Rei cums, something you know well enough now that you could pick it out in a lineup of orgasmic faces, where she gets a bit teary-eyed, and her bottom lip quivers, and then she breaks into this giggle - it's fucking adorable. "And so messy."
You slow down, letting her ride it out, and then you pull out, her body going limp against the desk. You take a moment to admire her - the way her chest is heaving, the flush on her cheeks, the dazed look in her eyes. You could look at her for hours, memorise every detail, but you've still got work to do.
So you're picking her up, but not heading for the bed.
Something about sliding balcony doors sings to the voyeur in you, as if you needed the city lights as an audience to the little spectacle you're making of her. So that's where you're taking her. That's where you'll pound her next.
"You know, there is a budget issue," Rei slurs out as she is pushed up against the glass.
"Oh yeah?"
"Overspending."
You're near tearing that skirt from her hips, and as she steps out of it, she turns and bends over, pushing her ass out for you. "And it can't wait?"
Rei shakes her head, looking back over her shoulder. "Actually, it's very relevant." She dips a little deeper. "You see, overtime costs are up a few points this quarter, and accommodation expenses have ballooned."
"Sounds like something we need to crack down on. Maybe you can find one of your creative approaches?"
"Asking me to get creative?"
"Always."
“I can do creative." It's an understatement for a woman like her, who seems to have an infinite number of ways to make you lose your mind. Case in point: she reaches out to pull a chair over to her side, and then she puts one foot on it and bends over a little further, giving you an even better view of her pussy, still wet and glistening from her last orgasm.
And just like that, you're kneeling, hands on her ass, spreading her open. Your tongue slides through her folds. Rei presses against the glass. "With the right motivation, I can hide any deficit," she's telling you, and you chuckle against her, the vibration making her shiver.
You lick her clit, and she whimpers. Rei pushes her hips back against your tongue. "I can make it work," she continues, her words breathy. "I'll just have to get very hands-on with the numbers."
You're not really listening anymore, too focused on the way she tastes, the way she feels against your tongue. You don’t have to see her to know she’s smirking. "I'll just have to bend over backwards for the company."
You groan at that, your cock twitching at the idea, and you pull back, standing up. You slap her ass, making her yelp and the flesh wobble. Now, you're lining up again and then pushing into her in one smooth thrust. She cries out, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the glass where she can’t find any.
"Corporate loyalty," she gasps out. "It's all about giving your all."
"I think you're more than giving your all, Rei," you tell her. You reach around her to cup her breasts. "I think you're going above and beyond."
She laughs, breathless and a little wild, and it's the sexiest sound you've ever heard. "Just doing my job."
"And you're so good at it." You roll her nipples between your fingers. "I should give you a raise."
"I'd rather you just shut up and keep fucking me."
You can't argue with that. You straighten up, one hand on her hip, the other hooking the thigh of the leg she has propped up in the air. You're pressing her against the glass, the city lights blurring behind her. You're fucking her hard and fast. She's taking it, loving it, begging for more. You give it to her, you give her everything, until you can feel yourself getting close, your balls tightening, your thrusts becoming a little erratic.
"Fuck, Rei, where?" you manage to grit out. Not that this is a knowledge thing, you just need to hear her say it before you do it.
"Anywhere. On me. In me."
In her.
She's cumming and laughing, and it's all so overwhelming, you can't help but follow her over the edge. Your vision goes white, your body tensing as you empty yourself inside her, filling her up with your cum. You stay like that for a moment, both of you breathing heavily, and then you pull out, watching your cum drip out of her, down her thighs.
It's fucking obscene, and you love it. You love the way she looks, all dishevelled and well-fucked. Rei turns to face you, and there's a satisfied smirk on her lips. There’s a gleam in her eye that says she knows exactly what she's doing to you.
She's standing, hands against your chest as she leans close, and suddenly she's all delicate. Plump lips give pillowy kisses. She keeps pulling back before you can engage her in liplock, a playful tease that has you chasing her kisses as she tilts her head this way and that.
"You're a bad habit," she whispers, and you can feel her smile against your lips.
"You're worse.”
"I know," she smirks, and just when you think you might make out with her, she's gone. One quick drop to her knees with cat-like precision. She's taking your cock in her mouth, cleaning you off, her tongue swirling around the head, lapping up the mixture of your cum and hers. You groan, and your hands tangle in her hair.
You've seen that look before - many times over the months you've been sneaking around with her. You're sure you'll see it again, and again, and again. As much as you both know this is wrong, as much as you both know it can't last, you can't seem to stop. She's your addiction, your guilty pleasure, your favourite fucking sin.
"Fuck, Rei." You're already half-hard again inside her mouth, and that has the corners of it upturned a little.
Then comes the buzzing - your phone. You swear under your breath, reach for it, and see Wonyoung's name flashing on the screen.
Rei pulls off your cock, a string of saliva connecting her lips to your head, and then - as if it's the most normal thing - tells you, "Better answer that.”
A shake of your head and a resigned sigh. You’re supposed to be in the office, and that leaves no excuse for ignoring her call. You swipe and answer. "Hey, baby.”
"Hey," Wonyoung says, and you can practically hear her pout. "You're working late again, aren't you?"
"Yeah, sorry. Meeting ran over, and I just need to… finish up."
She sighs, a little over-dramatically to make her point. You’ve heard it before, and you’ll hear it again. "Again? This is the fourth time this week. I'm starting to feel neglected…"
You have to bite back a groan and swallow it as Rei takes you back into her mouth. She caresses the tip of your cock with her tongue. "I know, baby, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"I'm holding you to that," Wonyoung warns. And sure, she's not really mad, just playfully annoyed, but there’s this pang of guilt that quickly passes. Her tone shifts to something a little more serious and a little more seductive. "You know, I've been thinking about you all day. I'm wearing that new lingerie you bought me."
It’s an enticing thought that will only fuel you further.
Oh, fuck. Rei's eyes flick up to yours as she takes you deeper. That fucking smirk around your cock. Ugh, she’s so clearly enjoying the predicament she's putting you in. You clear your throat. "Yeah? The red one?"
"Mm-hmm," Wonyoung purrs. "It's so soft against my skin, and it makes me feel so sexy. I wish you were here to see it."
You drop your tone a little and tell her, "Wish I was too." It's not entirely a lie - you do want to be there and to see her in that lingerie. You just also happen to want to fuck Rei's throat while you're thinking about it, but you can’t exactly say it out loud.
You can just picture Wonyoung lying on your shared bed, her hand trailing down her stomach, slipping inside the red lace. "I've been touching myself," she confesses, and your hips jerk forward, making Rei gag a little. "Just thinking about you. About your hands on me, your mouth on me, your cock inside me."
Jesus Christ. This is too much. Rei's still working you over, her head bobbing in your lap, and Wonyoung's moaning in your ear. You're pretty sure you're going to hell for this, but fuck, does it feel so good.
"I want you to come home and fuck me," Wonyoung near-pleads. "I want you to bend me over the bed and take me hard. I want to scream your name until the neighbours complain."
You tangle your fingers into Rei's hair and hold her in place as you start to thrust into her mouth. "I'll be home as soon as I can, baby.”
"Promise?" Wonyoung asks, and you can hear the pout again.
"I promise." It's a lie, but what's one more on top of all the others?
"Are you alone?" Rei looks up at you, her eyes wide, but she doesn't stop sucking you, doesn't even slow down. If anything, she doubles her efforts, taking you deeper, her nose pressing against your stomach - the last thing you need.
"N-no," you stutter out. "I mean, yes. Yes, I'm alone. Just me and the spreadsheets."
"Right, right. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Fine," you grit out, as Rei starts to hum around your cock. You have to bite your lip to keep from moaning. "Just tired. Long day."
"Mm," Wonyoung’s not entirely convinced, that much is sure, but she buys any lie you try to sell her. "Well, hurry up and finish your work so you can come home and finish me off."
"Believe me, I'm trying," you say, and it's the truth, for once. You need to fuck Rei again - need to finish your work.
Wonyoung laughs, a bright, happy sound that makes your chest ache. "I love you," she says, and the words hit you like a series of little punches to the gut.
"I love you too," you reply, and you mean it - even as Rei's swallowing around you, even as your hips are thrusting into her mouth, even as you're trying not to bust a nut down your mistress's throat. You love Wonyoung, and that's what makes this so fucked up.
"See you soon." Wonyoung hangs up and leaves you with the dial tone and a girl on her knees who's still looking up at you with a fire in her eyes.
You toss your phone aside. You grip Rei's hair as you start to really fuck her face in punishment. She takes it - just lets you use her. Her eyes water, and spit drips down her chin. "That was so fucking bad," you scold. "Doing that while I'm on the phone with her."
Rei pulls off, a string of saliva connecting her lips to your cock, and then catches it as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Punish me then."
At that, you're throwing her onto the bed. Wonyoung can wait. For just a little while longer, at least. You're going to give Rei exactly what she wants, and then you're going to go home to your girlfriend, and you're going to fuck her, too. Because you're greedy, and you want it all - the sweet girlfriend who loves you, and the dirty mistress who lets you use her.
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