Sway ft. Hayoung

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Traffic sucks. You get in your car and you’re just playing a waiting game, waiting for lights, waiting for some idiot to cut you off. Waiting for something good to happen, but the best thing that can happen is when nothing happens. The same motions everyday, you copy the gears in your engine, ever rotating. It’s not easy enough for you to become lost in your thoughts, you’d be more than just a drop in the flood of vehicles if you cause a crash, yet it’s not difficult enough to keep you engaged. A foot on the pedal, check your blind spots, remember the blinkers when you turn. Unlike that Lexus, piece of shit. Unlike every Lexus, it seems. Compromise would be the best way to put it. You have to do it and it’s goddamn boring. Look in the mirror. Your wife’s hair is black and long. It’s still despite your movement. In and out your dick goes. You’re in traffic.

The only light that pollutes your bedroom comes from adjacent highrises, equally restless. Essential oils mask faint sweat and other juices permeating two bodies. You sit on your headrest, your wife sits on your lap, on your cock. Her pussy is comfortable, it’s nice. Hyeyoung faces you but her eyes are on her vibrator. She’s beautiful and it’s almost impossible to forget how lucky you are to fuck her this often, that's why she reminds you all the time. Neither of you are stripped, only pulling down matching sweatpants enough for you to thrust into her while she grinds on you. Careful. Don’t want to break something. What a profitable exchange. This has to be a quick one, a guest is in the shower. It would be muskier, louder with skin slapping raw skin if it were just the two of you. You tell yourself that at least. No, Hyeyoung doesn't have the same fire she did a decade and a half ago in college. There's one person who might. Oh shit.

“You okay?” your wife responds to the gasp interrupting your bevy of grunts.

Weird, you’ve thought about winning the lottery too but that hasn’t happened so far. Wet peach hair is the sole adornment to the petite frame between the gap of the half-open bedroom door. You’ve already seen her body before, not just because of genes. Song Hayoung.

“Are you, sure you’re good?” your wife says. You nod, your strokes ceaseless. “Then. Why, are, you going, so much faster. I- I can’t keep up.”

Didn’t even notice. The unbreaking eye contact of a nude girl a dozen something years your junior would do that to you. Especially if she’s lowering herself into a split on a suction dildo. Hayoung's legs trace a perfect lithe shape, nipples on her delicate tits beg to be bitten and her small face says that if she called your name, you would pull out of your wife to fuck her face. Though Hayoung holds a hand over her mouth to conceal her presence from her sister, she makes no such concession to hide from you, riding the silicone dick like it owes her. Or like it’s yours. There’s that vigor with which you used to fuck your wife. Your shaft finds friction past every wall of her vagina, somehow exploring new depths in her warm flesh. She nearly reacts with something, anything other than a change in her breaths’ rhythm but you interrupt.

“I’m gonna cum soon!”

Your wife shushes you. Maybe a kiss might stop your vocalizations but you're past asking. "Please, Hayoung might hear you.”

That was the point, the girl in your hallway bouncing with complete abandon. Hopefully, she takes the warning. Your eyes slam shut as a pulse arrives and you hold your wife's waist close but she doesn’t hold you back. Ecstasy electrocutes nerves all over your body, rushing from your head all the way down to your dick, resulting in the most cum you’ve flooded in Hyeyoung’s womb in years. You and your wife catch a breath and she looks back to find out why you're staring. Her face wears confusion but she succumbs to her fatigue anyway.

A ghost in the door. If that were your justification, it might be worse than reality. One, you’d certainly need medicine, and two, you’ve been consuming far too much porn to hallucinate your wife’s sister. Then again, considering the porn you’ve paid for, it'd make sense. No, it doesn’t, it couldn’t be her.

Cuddle your wife to get rid of the impulses deep in the recesses of your mind and fall asleep. Emptiness. Something else. Your last dream happened years ago. When you did have one, it was just the low hum of an engine, vehicles moving through a blizzard. Now your first unconscious vision, a face. A hole. So tight and so flexible. She’s so much younger and she enjoys fucking as much as you do. The warmth in your embrace disappears at some point and you're not sure if it's just in the dream. Tied up, spanked. A flood. What a waste of water, she could have at least turned off the shower. Back in a car.

Fog condenses in the reality mirroring fantasy and Hayoung finishes herself in your bathroom with the exact positions you imagine.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Go to the store to get more soap, you make a mental note. You’d need it to clean your dirty thoughts. Also, you were running out of soap.

Ding. Wipe your eyes as you get up from your empty bed and look at your phone.

“I’m sorry Hayoung, and honey, my company needs me in Kyoto, at least until the weekend,” the notification from the family group chat says.

“Wow unnie, did you get the private jet? I’ll miss you, xoxo.”

“I did! Take good care of my dongsaeng, okay honey?”

You were going to take care of her alright, even if it took meant tying her up and choking her. Damn. It’s going to be a long day. Or few days considering how long Hyeyoung would be gone.

“Don’t worry about me,” and send. She will.

Search the apartment. Hayoung’s not home, leaving behind a single suitcase in your wife’s bedroom acting as the guest bedroom. She probably has an itinerary to attend to, visiting Korea to choreograph for a bunch of cutesy K-pop groups. You’re thankful. Part of it is procrastination from dealing with the troublesome woman, another part in your head knows it’s saving you from temptation.

Work diverts your attention from the girl. Formulas in Excel spreadsheets, texts to managers, chores make you forget the tight midriff you would cum all over. Just because you weren’t in Kyoto with your wife didn’t mean work as her secretary was any less tedious. Tedium is what you need however. It’d distract you from the idea of smacking Hayoung’s little butt cheeks until they're sore and then you'd keep going anyway.

Look at your watch. Both hands vertical. Maybe Hayoung couldn't come home embarrassed by her boldness. Not a chance she knows shame. The hallucination theory is also not off the table. Or she's out fucking some random guy. That's most likely. Why?

The way that two million something pixels stimulates the animal brain is incredible. It can cause a married man to watch a facsimile of the real thing that he gets all the time. It can cause him to pay for gigabytes of nothing but ones and zeroes interpreted as video and it can make him believe that the girl on the screen is a familiar dancer.

Shut the office curtains. Only the monitor's light pollutes the room. You locked everything, including the chain of the door. A comfortable, perfect box, designed to spend hours in to work, and you feel the air drop from the ceiling. It’s not like someone with the keys and tiny hands could slip past an ajar door to release the safety chain. Type the name of the site. Log in. Don't cancel your subscription, it's too hard anyway behind the walls of surveys and confirmations. Play. Your hands reach down to unzip and unbutton your jeans, then you start jerking yourself off. That voice coming from the blindfolded girl teased by two men, one at her mouth, one between her legs. It can’t be her, can it? The possibility didn't stop you last time, or the time before that, and it won't stop you now. No, it does even less than stop, it keeps you motivated as you stroke.

In another universe, management would have handled your noise complaint sooner. Who vacuums at this hour? The headphones on your ears playing loud porn didn't help, but maybe you'd notice your door creaking open.

“Daddy, you like that?” Two voices in unison. The lips that spilled the voice in the real world pecks on your neck.

“What the fuck, Hayoung,” you say as you swivel your office chair.

Adorable, not dangerous, is your first thought of the woman on her hands and knees. Your monitor provides the only light to see her white crop top, black short shorts, the same choker as the one in the video. Handcuffs bind her tiny wrists. How did she do that herself? Cat ears and fluffy fingerless paws, where’d she get those? Useless questions. You push her away, a little too late.

“We can’t,” gulp, “fucking do this.”

“At least pretend to believe what you’re saying. You still have your hand on your cock.“

You rip your hands away, nearly putting them up like she's the cop. Your cursed manhood stands at attention, still hardening in the face of danger.

”You need some fresh pussy, right?” She meows, sticking her ass up, her face a breath away from your dick.

A sweltering summer day and you freeze. The A/C is perfect, you pressed the right buttons. Your dress shirt is buttoned backwards. Keyboard buttons are in perfect alphabetical order. She’s as cute as a button and she’s about to eat you, your dick. You’re stuck. You’re stuck, fuck.

“That's why you're pumping your cock to the young girl on the screen. She has to be as young as I am!” she says in a honeyed tone, “Oh, why am I playing games. Thanks for the support. Daddy. You like hearing that, right? Daddy?”

Faintly from your headphones, the video you haven’t paused: “Daddy please, use me.” Her pink lips curl up and they poke once at the bottom of your shaft, staining it. It’s the kind of stain that would never go away.

You use all effort to get on your two feet and she awkwardly stands up in kind. Then, you honest-to-god trip on her. It's an accident. You would try to raise your hands again if you weren't doing a pushup trying not to crush her. She’s so small underneath you. Her sharp nose and soft eyes are too spotless for you to violate her in any way. Restraining her entire body with one hand and tearing her in two with your cock poking at her tummy would take no sweat. A single motion down to align your head and up to thrust then you'd be inside of her, but instead you're still, maybe shaking a sliver holding yourself up. Hayoung flashes a vulgar smile, teeth bared ready to eat you alive like she’s not the one below you.

“Come on daddy, be more subtle than that. Fine. You can fuck me. Right now. I know she's not as good, huh." This couldn't rile you up, get off of her, get off, "You lied to yourself every time you nutted in her, I wish she were younger. I'm right here daddy."

Hayoung with her eyes beady gives just a brief peck on your lips then scrunches up her mouth and huffs a little, ready to give up her advances when you don't respond initially, but you flip a switch. Cruise control, it reads. Hadn't touched it in a while.

Still on top of her, you grab her by the chin and squish her cheeks. "You follow all my words. Understand?"

"Yes, thank you daddy, thank you, thank you," she mumbles out.

You complete the push-up and lift yourself off her. Last chance. Kick her out. Or walk out. "Get on your hands and knees. I want to watch that little ass as you crawl to the bedroom.” You did not say that, your animal brain did. Automatic transmission. Sit back on the chair.

“How about the bathroom first? I can show you exactly how I fucked myself yesterday,” she says. Still lying on your floor, her hands clasp together begging and she sticks her bottom lip out.

“You’re not in charge here. I’ll fuck you there when we clean up.”

“Oh, you’re already planning on using my body twice?” Hayoung smirks.

“More. Until you’re nothing but a whimpering mess,” you say.

“Until unnie gets home? Or maybe, we can even let her watch-”

You bend down. Slap. “I know exactly what you like, remember? You like being treated like you’re fucking worthless for anything except as a cum dumpster. So shut the fuck up and get on all fours.” It takes a second slap, before she flips her own switch.

“I’m, I’m sorry daddy.” Her tone moves down from bratty and Hayoung gets back on her knees and hands then you motion her to turn around. The handcuffs make her every step difficult but she manages to stick out her ass to you.

If all you did was thigh fuck her, you'd be satisfied. It'd be worth everything you might have to sacrifice and then some, yet you wanted more and so did she. Reach down to pull off her shorts and you’re surprised to see pink panties, stained. “Are those the same panties in the video you posted?” You peel them off to find semen sticking from the underwear and coating her pussy. The little lips surrounding her tiny fuck hole make her look like a perfectly crafted fleshlight, its pristine appearance only betrayed by all the white fluid slowly dripping out.

“You never got to see the ending huh? I’m sorry daddy, you know I’m such a slut,” Hayoung says, “Look through my purse, it’s on the coffee table. You can use whatever to punish me.” She crawls to join you to the living room, her shorts and pink pants on her ankles, making her flounder. Lube, toys and accessories in the bag. Keep it simple. Take out a dildo, different than the one she used to lure you yesterday, a smaller glass one.

“The only cum that’s allowed inside you is mine.” You give no buildup as you attempt to shove the smooth cold glass inside her. Even the smaller dildo takes effort for you to push all the way, her clinging labia providing an absurd amount of resistance. Her moan is loud but more notably high pitched. The only thing making the job easier is sperm leaking out of her as you pound into her with the toy.

Hayoung manages to get words out in between sharp breaths, “But daddy! No way, no way you last five minutes. Why do you think, fuck" you hit a spot on a outward stroke from her perfect pussy, "Fuck, fuck, why, ah, I have all these toys and lube? I need, I want way more than just one cock."

"That's why you always have two guys in your videos?"

“That and the cameraman joins in. So, usually three." You slow down fucking her with the toy to get a feel for her weak spots. "You don’t even have to pay me anymore. Just fuck me, you can even record it. If you can last even an extra few minutes, that’d already make you the best dick I’ve had.”

“Oh, I’ve had plenty of experience baby girl.” If you were going to last inside of her, she would need to be as lubricated as possible since it's straining you to plunge the dildo in and out of her. Even with how you manhandled her before, you might break her. Twist out the wet glass toy from her pussy and hear the little pop of her pink lips close shut as you completely pull it out, then hold the dildo in front of her mouth like a treat. “Like I said, I want to see you squirming for my cock. Suck on it.”

Hayoung follows your command. You hold the glass toy to lead her around your coffee table and couch, her lips holding her up as she clumsily crawls. One knee after another, her cuffed hands, bunched shorts and panties on her ankles make her hobble forward. Every few feet, you stop and return to her pussy to ram it with the dildo so the more you do it, the more her wetness replaces the old cum.

There’s no escape. The neighbors must know at this point, either your wife regained new vocal cords during sex after such a long time, or it’s the exact situation they expect. Even when you block her throat with a glass dildo, she still moans with a magnitude you’ve never experienced.

She slithers in your hallway to the bedrooms. You opt to leave the dildo in Hayoung’s pussy, having trouble leading her around by the mouth with it as she keeps shambling and instead, take a fistful of her long hair as a leash. It’s still as tiresome for her, her tightness making even a simple crawl agonizingly gratifying as the slight movements cause the toy to strike the numerous nerves in her pussy. Your floor is a mess, since a path of fluids from her fuck hole stain the hardwood, and it makes her fluffy gloves slippery. She stumbles, hitting a stand and nearly knocking over an expensive vase.

“Sorry! I’m so-”

Your hands are on two and ten, gripping the wheel.

“Daddy, I, I can’t.” Red on her face turns pale.

“Breathe? Good.”

“Sorry, please, daddy.” A tear in her eyes. You pull her around by her neck and open the door on the right. “I thought, we were, going to, the bedroom?”

“We are. Your room,” you say.

“Unnie’s?” Hayoung says, then you choke harder.

You’re finally in the pale blue room. Your wife's favorite color. The girl who is only but a plaything fully melts in your hold by now. You release your grip and Hayoung takes very deep breaths. Turn on the lights then sit down on the bed. She remains in her doggy position, ready as ever to be fucked.

“You’re so rough daddy. You do know me well. Is it because I remind you of unnie when she was younger?”

“Even now you’re gonna act like a brat-”

More like a train the way she runs through you talking, “Was she nearly as slutty as I am? What if she is? Maybe she’s not in Hong Kong for business, but in some younger stud’s bedroom cheating just like-”

You don’t remember getting up, just putting your fingers down her mouth so that she gags up spit.

“I didn’t know you had that reflex, whore. You see that drool?” You step on it and rub it around on the hardwood floor with your toes. “That’s how fucking filthy you’re talking right now. And I don’t want a mess. Clean it up. From my feet. Up to my legs. And you know exactly where I want to see that dirty fucking tongue go up to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying sorry, I want you to fucking mean it. Nothing in your pussy until you earn it either.” You reach down to take out the dildo and put it on the bedside stand.

Tears from her eyes as she tries to restrain her smile. She knows at this point any sass wouldn’t be prudent. Hayoung cleans up all the spit from the floor, careful not to leave a single drop on the floor. She’s playing her part very well, suiting the cat ears and paws she dons. You’ve seen much filthier from her in random hotel rooms, at least you cleaned every day with a guest over. You're too many exits past the point of guilt, with how you’ve defiled the dewy-eyed girl.

Her tongue’s diligence keeps your erection growing even more, especially as she finishes cleaning the floor to move on to your lower body. Hayoung licks up from your toes, making sure to cover every inch of your shin and thighs with her saliva mixed with her fluids, and she gives cute kisses working her way from your inner thighs to your balls.

“Daddy, I promise, you won’t have any cum left when I’m done, okay?” Hayoung takes each testicle into her mouth, giving each one their fair turn of suction.

You ruffle her hair. She spends ample time trying to suck out your semen right out of your balls with the force she slurps. Hayoung says sloppily as she still has your sack in her mouth, “My boobs aren’t as big as unnie’s. Do you still want to play with them?”

You rip open her white crop top. No bra underneath. Help her up and she kneels in front of you. You sink into the mattress to give your hands an angle on her modest chest. Give them the same slaps her face deserves. The sharp sounds reverberates throughout the room, the biggest in the house.

“I love seeing you writhe around, but we can do a lot more if we remove these.” The toy handcuffs require the press of a small button to release and you easily throw them to the side of the room. Finally, you remove her shorts and panties from her ankles and disrobe yourself too, putting your phone on the stand.

“Play with my tits more.” Your brows furrow. “Please. Daddy.”

You pull her up so that she sits square on your right knee. Her pussy is so warm, even compared to the rest of her bare skin. Lean back on the mattress and she follows. She drags her crotch up your thigh, covering it in a delightful sheen. Hayoung tries to give you a smooch but you slink down to kiss her neck instead, then her collarbone, and at last to her little brown nipples that you’ve been craving. Nothing could compare to the hardness of your free cock at this point, but her nipples are getting there. All the while, Hayoung flaunts her greed with the way she grinds her slit on your leg. Your erection could stab a new hole in her, but she avoids rubbing on it. Already a little white leaks out of your slit.

“You’re close to cumming, aren’t you?”

“And you? I need it, I need it so bad.”

“You will not. There is exactly one place you’re cumming, slut.” Your stillness is resolute. She pouts then concedes and relaxes herself on top of you. “There we go.” Bite her nipples as a reward and Hayoung lets out the tiniest squeal. “No more talking. Actually, you will be nothing but a toy.”

Shove her off you. The light bouncing from her wet thighs glimmers when she rubs her clit. Her eyes focus on the mirror. She has to know exactly how pretty she looks jerking herself off. “Remember, no cumming unless I’m in you.” She nods.

Reach into boxes in the closet. Ropes, haven’t seen these in a bit. You experimented with Hyeyoung before so you have experience but you haven't tested your knot tying skills in a while.

“Lay your stomach flat on the bed,” you order her. “Bend your legs back. Arms behind your head.”

You marvel at the hogtied girl. What a fine knot. Hayoung sticks her tongue out, “Ahhhh.”

“What a hungry whore. Fine.” You pull Hayoung so her head is resting on the edge of the mattress then spank her buttcheeks and tease your erection in front of her waiting lips. She slobbers on your tip and you spank even harder for it. “You keep making a mess. What makes you think you deserve to be fucked on the same bed as the woman I married?”

Her lingering kiss on your cock head shows how much she’s trying to prove her worth. Hayoung’s sweet lips suckle on the frenulum already trying to withdraw every drop of cum that you have. Your nerves tingle so you shove in and begin using her mouth as a used receptacle.

Hayoung laps up every corner of your shaft while you slowly fuck her mouth. “Woah, “ slurp, ”are you gonna,” slurp, “cum already?”

Don’t need to dignify that with a response. Just pull your erection away and she gives a final peck on the way out. You turn her around, now her knees sticking out from the bed’s brim. Her tight ass and pussy are in full display. You take her long orange hair and carefully tie her hair, joining her feet and hands behind her back.

No more pretense. You’ve played with her enough. A single drag of your tip on her labia and you attempt to push in.

“Fuuck. I told you, daddy. You see how wet I am? It’s still so,” you try an inch and it’s excruciating, “Ugh.”

“How? How do you fuck anyone?” you say, stuck at the entrance.

“Well, you are the biggest I’ve seen,” Hayoung groans. The vice grip of her pink lips clamp down on the width alone of your erection's head despite the drizzle so far. “You saw what’s in my bag, right?” As much as it’s torture to push in her, it’s just as much to pull out so it's fortunate you don’t have to return to the living room, with lube in the top drawer of the stand.

You nearly empty the bottle plastering your whole erection with the pina colada scent. One more time.

“Yesss,” Hayoung hisses when you finally manage to plunge into her. Sensations of her pretty pussy lips on your cock head melt into your veins and meet each fold of her vagina with an untold traction despite all the natural and added wetness between your dick and her flesh. The girl was right. How the fuck were you supposed to last five minutes. You scrape her back with your nails then pull on the ropes binding all her limbs and hair up. One more “Daddy” and you dismiss the question, accelerating your erection’s lunge in and out of her impossible constriction. There’s not a single second you don’t fear you could prematurely end so you keep a perfect balance of speed and power. Your hard deliberate thrusts to reach her cervix disguise a slowness to your rhythm, careful not to give in to your dick’s reflexes.

After what feels like an eternity, you hit the brakes on your descent into madness. Again, a pop as you pull out. You untie her legs from the knot, keeping her hands behind her back. Lie down on the bed.

“I liked that split.”

Puffed up, she smiles. “Of course.”

Her small stature stands over your face, her feet on the bed next to your eyes. Hayoung squats onto your face and you don’t care whatever fluids come from her slit, smelling sweet with all the lube. Grab her ass and scoot her down your body, sliding her warmth over your chest until her pussy lips tease your cock once again. Spread her legs open until they form a perfect straight line. Her face bears no strain, exhibiting her years of practice dancing. Your erection towers upwards and threatens to pierce the girl on its own accord so she concedes. With the same sight you pictured just yesterday as you were fucking your wife, Hayoung drops her pussy straight down onto your cock. Despite how long you fucked her just a few minutes ago, the new angle makes the penetration overpowering. Hands and peach hair bound by rope, yet with all your assertive talk, she’s in the driver seat. Hayoung makes short quick hops while she subtly twists and her dance is all she needs to show her knowledge on how to coerce both of your orgasms.

She bends down to kiss your neck. The way she buckles her legs back like she’s swimming suffocates your cock further.

“Daddy, you’re. Doing. So, good.” A forceful thrust of her hips accentuate each word. Hayoung takes some time to move her waist side to side and the sway makes you aware of the purchase that each side of her walls gives to your erection. She nibbles on the nape of your neck but you bite her back for nearly leaving a mark.

“I’m right there.”

“But there’s so many positions you can fuck me in. Come on daddy, I know you can do even better.” You untie the ropes still holding. She’s ready to pounce, but instead you hold her back and contort her in every stance imaginable as you fuck her. Your ceremonial bed witnesses all the ways that Hayoung arches and tucks while you bury and extract your erection. Cat ears lay somewhere in the bedroom, since they’ve been fucked off at some point that you can’t remember, so now you return to your original view of her bare body. She does a downward dog yoga pose and you can tell how you hit her G-spot perfectly with your cock head by the way she yelps. You bend her legs even wider with her feet behind her neck, exposing the slightest bit of her inner flesh between her uniform labia. Her lunge onto your erection gives both of you a workout as you work your core muscles to ram upwards and penetrate further inside of her. The whole room is sweet with the lube you lathered, both of your bodies wet with perspiration and pleasure. Any semblance of talking has given way to fervent animalistic noise.

You’re as deep as you can get in her pussy when she’s prone. She’s right, her face does remind you of your younger wife. Now you only have to stare at her sculpted ass as you fuck her. Hayoung bends her back when your dick retreats so her face is upside down looking up, or down, whatever, at you. Make out with her upturned lips and plummet back in.

Ding.

“Don’t you dare fucking move.”

She lays still and shudders, keeping your erection nice, warm and sticky as you reach over to the nightstand and look at your phone, but she betrays you to grab the used glass dildo next to it.

You don’t bother punishing her since with one hand, you reply to emails you did not need to reply to at this hour. Maybe you’d make a mistake. Maybe you have the cutest girl you know face down glued to your cock and you’re done caring.

Hayoung nearly rips a piece of her lip off biting it as she tries to shove it in her somehow tighter looking asshole. This won’t do. With the other hand, you take the lube on the stand and spread the remainder of the gooey substance all over her butthole. Right hand, dry and focused, typing a storm for work. The left, sloppy, pineapple and coconut flavored, fingering an unblemished hole.

Press discard as Hayoung sucks on your probing pinky and pushes the dildo into her asshole one millimeter at a time. She’s still not moving or grinding in any way, but the pressure of the second shaft is nearly too much, especially when she gets halfway deep and her butt rejects a final push which draws the toy out. A single wave and you shoot a spurt. The volume of that one burst is enough to envelope your cock with stickiness, enough to breed her, so when you pull out, your cream spills out all over the bed.

“Are you sure I can-”

She bends back again and looks straight into you with upturned eyes. “Too late. You’re my daddy now,” she says innocent, naive. As though you haven’t been destroying that innocence with your dick. “Just, just do it.”

You two are past trying new positions, you’re in an intimate, familiar spot. You sit on your headrest, Hayoung sits on your lap, on your cock. However, this one is no simple grind, instead a single common goal, climax. You’re on an empty desert highway speeding. The room is humid. Your wife’s bedroom smells like a gym. Hayoung and you each test independent rhythms, as she violently slams her cheeks down to your waist while you push up into her sobbing pussy with new arcs and bends.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, yes,” she repeats until it’s impossible to keep track. “Cum in my belly,” Hayoung whispers right into your hypothalamus.

You shiver.

“You can really be a daddy.”

Traffic jam in the tunnel. The radio stops working. Hayoung's neck is so soft when you clutch it hard. Her narrow strait overwhelms your cock’s sense of touch with every prod, poke and graze. She jolts and you jolt in kind. You explode and she combusts too. The milking, wringing force of her own orgasm meets every single thrust you make and your brain nearly runs out of addictive dopamine to tell you that you’ve done a good job. Ringing and then silence in your ears replace Hayoung’s strained wails. Relax your choke. You’ve lost your ability to count. Counting the number of ropes you’ve throbbed inside of her. Counting the hours that must have passed. Cum floods out of her snug hole, mixing with her ejaculate slathering both of your groins.

Tick, tick. Look at the white clock against the blue wall across from you. You’d say it’s been at least ten minutes. Good thing your priorities are straight. Catch your runaway breath and stare at the ceiling. Those emails could come tomorrow, you remind yourself. There’s plenty of cleaning up to do, and you already have excuses ready, easiest one being Hayoung brought some guy over to fuck without your permission. Definitely got priorities in order. You almost fall asleep, but she’s still playing and poking around with your penis, as soft and sensitive as it’s ever been. Even the most delicate brushes sting.

There’s no reason your erection should return this soon.

“Bathroom, now,” you say.

"Of course, daddy. By the way,” Hayoung says with a teasing cadence, ”You lasted so long. I might have to join a K-pop group myself and live in Seoul. How's that sound?"

No More Drowning ft. Olivia Hye

Perspiration deluges your white Taekwondo uniform. You make it fit loose so that it doesn’t stick to your skin. A refreshing breeze now annoys you as it whistles through your damn window that never sealed completely shut. At least you didn't need to turn on a fan today.

“Hey Captain,” you greet the commander of none. Hyejoo lies on a small blue couch, the only pristine spot in the living room. Her outfit suggests that there would be the usual cool air expected of the season but the fall is humid and stuck in the climate of a couple months past. It’s incredible that there is not a bead of sweat formed on her face. You study her and somehow she’s handsome in your eyes which is probably not a word others would use to describe the stunning woman reclining with her feet up.

“Wassup,” she says.

“You gonna-”

“Clean up?  Yeah, yeah, lemme finish this round.”

Her face is welded to her screen though her eyes dart around maybe holding a hint of remorse at the clothes that litter the cramped living space and the dishes in the sink.

“I’m not an impostor! Ahhh!” Hyejoo shouts into the screen. Certainly none of her actions follow through on that guilt.

“How'd this even happen? You got pyjamas on the floor, shirts on the chairs. You a camgirl or something?"

"I'm a camgirl? I can see your tits dude.” Cover your pectoral cleavage in faux shame. ”Yo, I swear I just saw green-"

"And all these energy drinks? Come on Hyejoo, no way your heart lasts more than a year.”

“Wow, meanie.”

You look at your watch. “It’s like 9:40.”

“Shit, right, the marketing test.” Hyejoo’s fingers show no pretense that she’ll stop playing. She definitely didn't see your disapproving face. “Oh relax, I still got time,” she says anyway.

Finally, she looks up at you and her brows crease. “What?” you ask.

"You look good today."

Your heart floats just a little. You always appreciate the little compliments she gives. They were just ones that friends, good friends, would say but you’ll take anything to keep you going. Well, it’s enough to get you to clean up for her again.

“It’s gonna be a long shower by the way.” She giggles and you step over empty cans and bottles when you walk to the bathroom.

“No prob, I’m heading out soon,” Hyejoo says.

“Sure you are.”

Her exaggerated yawn seems not so exaggerated by how she stretches her entire being before putting her phone away.

“Oh, soon means now. How long’s it going to take?” you say.

She shrugs her shoulders. “One, two? I dunno.”

In a rush to get all her supplies in her bag, a series of metallic clangs sound out when finished beverages fall over like dominoes.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry about that, I really am. I can buy you lunch if you want something?” Hyejoo starts picking up a few of them to set aside in the corner and you help her.

“Nah, I’ll still be in the shower by then.”

Hyejoo scoffs. “If I'm addicted to caffeine, you're addicted to water. A sandwich sound good?”

“Yeah sure. I got a lot on my mind, Captain.”

“That include me?” A dismissive puff of air exits your lips. No, no way. She walks up to smell your uniform. Your acute awareness of her distance or lack thereof causes you to ignore her pupils' subtle drift downwards.

“You’re a weirdo, you know that?”

"Get to your shower stinky."

You wave Hyejoo off then enter the bathroom. The scurry of little steps and a slam from the front door echo the whole apartment. Never any privacy in here. These sounds give way to the jet engine of your shower with its pressure betraying the bargain rate of your rent. Soap washes away your muscles' ache and the sun’s beating on your skin. It's been unusually warm since the leaves turned brown. Water builds up in the tub.

Something's not adding up. There it is again. That plunging in your heart. Sparring always helps a bit after your early morning manual labor carrying bags of sand. However, it does not stop the resurfacing of your every mistake as there's nothing but your mind in the shower. You don't have a plan and your future is void because money and work hours kill you as much as school. You're not even getting all the wages you earn and there's nothing you can do about it. Past choices bubble up in that unkind way. The cup fills and clear blue liquid engulfs you.

Lift yourself out the tub to catch a breath that you don't deserve. Deliberate respirations do nothing to slow down your heart rate. The only thing that can is a captain. You could wander the ocean on a raft with her alone but you have no idea if she felt even close to the same. Maybe she's just the most important friend you've ever had. Light from the small window hits the tiled floor. Unplug the drain. Right, you left your clothes in your room so wrap yourself with a green towel you find hanging from the doorknob.

Shit! There's not a mouse in sight but you shriek like there is one when Hyejoo materializes in the confined kitchen. Hyejoo expresses no surprise herself as she sits cross legged on the miniature wooden dining table playing yet another mobile game. Laundry baskets and garbage bags hold all the previous mess. Your surprise at her appearance transforms into surprise for her proactiveness. You want to give her thanks but no words escape your lips.

"You gonna put on some clothes? Perv. That’s my towel too."

Your hands push off invisible blame. The hands of the wall clock reads five minutes before noon. "Woah, woah, wait a sec. What happened to the midterm?"

"Walked out in the middle of it. Couldn’t deal. Dropped."

"Wait, what about the refund?"

"Sunk cost dude.” Hyejoo sniffs a wide white shirt hanging from a chair next to her. “This yours or mine? Ehh, it's clean either way."

You catch the shirt and smell it. A little vanilla. It's hers. “Thanks Captain.”

“Even sniffing it? Really a perv.” You almost forget a single piece of fabric separates full exposure of your genitals but the realization makes you blush anyway.

“Nah, you smelled it first and. Whoever smelt it, dealt it.”

“That’s not what that saying means.” Hyejoo gets up from her awkward seat.

Incredible how many new ways she can throw you off like when she bumps into you with her eyes are still on her phone. Hyejoo's clumsiness will be your death as the towel slips down and hangs solely from your half erect dick. Cool, you're just a clothing rack now. She turns you around with one hand and snatches the large shirt with the other. Your bare moon is in full view.

"You gonna put this on or just stand there?" she says with no qualms about the absurd sight of your newly cleansed rear. You scramble to wrap the towel tightly around you to tame your erection but there's no way she hasn't noticed by now.

"Y- yep, I, I will do that, for sure." Turn back around and take the shirt to put it on carefully. It’d be oversized for her but it fits you snug. Your ears must have joined your cheek’s redness because your nipples poke through the thin white fabric.

Hyejoo takes a single glance away from her screen at your makeshift towel skirt and laughs. "Actually, you look cute like that. Just keep the towel on, it's less to clean."

Wide-eyed, you say, "What if ahjumma barges in?"

"What if? Whatever, no fun." She sticks her tongue out then gets comfortable on the couch while her diligent and nimble fingers peck at the screen.

Return to the restroom and deal with your erection before it becomes a problem. You’ve seen hints of her comely body before and it helps you undress her layered attire in your imagination. Instead of the black button-up long sleeve and track pants she wore just moments ago, you picture a crop top, her hair tied up and white panties, and it's that latter image that affixes to your mind. On a particularly balmy day, Hyejoo wore only her underwear because she had nothing else to do but game and it hasn't stopped plaguing your fantasies ever since. Your hands are Hyejoo’s, soft and loving just for a moment.

"You taking another shower in there or what?" Hyejoo shouts, “I’d definitely hear from here!”

Reality smacks you in the face. She had no fear of you, no worry that you’d take advantage of her. Were you even a man? Stop your jerking and get up. 

Open the bathroom door absentmindedly and thump. It smacks her head. You don’t even think about why she was standing right next to the door, instead sweeping aside her hair from her face. Red doesn’t come from where you hit her.

Simultaneously, you and Hyejoo say, “You okay?”

“Um, I’m, look-”

Her blush grows but she interrupts your blabbering, “I didn’t hear you respond and thought you, uh, died in there or something.”

Nearly reached la petite mort if that counted but instead you say, “No, I just. Had a lot to consider.”

“Sure.” You’ve never seen her this flustered since it’s enough for her to scurry back to her room. Hopefully things wouldn’t be too awkward.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“I fucking hate you!” Hyejoo yells.

“Oh yeah? Same!” you retort, probably too loud.

Her tone goes down. “Were those the lines?”

“Ehh, as long as we get the gist of the argument down.”

Hyejoo and you stand on the stairway up to your rooftop apartment in your rehearsed spots. She looks a little confused on how to start what she wants to start but you poke at her when you see the landlady walking towards the stairs.

“Chill out!” she yelps.

“Chill out, you’re telling me to chill out?"

"Seriously, oppa," that's about as strained as a human can say a word, "You’re such a slob!”

“Shut up, look at me straight in the eyes and tell me you’re not just as bad,” you say, trying not to laugh but Hyejoo’s punch knocks the wind out of you. Your pain is only half acting. Her sympathetic look does nothing to soothe you.

"Ya!" The elderly woman interrupts and forces you two apart. “That’s enough! I get you’re cousins but even I don’t fight this badly with my family.”

Hyejoo whips her pupils towards you as though to ask the same question you had, if you sold the illusion too hard.

“I get that living with your kin is tough but at the very least, no murders on my property. Not until one of you graduates.” The old lady squints and turns to each of you saying, “Promise me. No hitting. Not in my sight.”

You nod then Hyejoo’s sigh becomes an assenting nod when the landlady smacks her wrist nearly black and blue. Satisfied at her hard work reconciling family matters, she walks back down her stairs to do her usual wandering around the neighborhood. Hyejoo and you take a second to stretch and relax.

“Ha. Do as I say, not as I do,” Hyejoo says as you both sit on the concrete steps.

You caress your tender rib. “Or don't do at all. Ow. You wanna be a Youtuber? They do boxing and gaming, and you'd kill doing both." Hyejoo's laugh is rich and all that it takes for you to forgive her. You exhale. "Hopefully that gets her off our backs for a while.”

“How do you even manage Taekwondo? You’re so fragile and-" Her sentence is interrupted when she looks at your built arms.

"No way they hit as hard as you, Captain." You miss her carnal look when you close your eyes and think about the nickname that you aimlessly threw out one day.

She stands up. Your eyes violently spread open at her “Kya!” Hyejoo’s fighting stance and shouts masquerading kihaps are totally off. As much as Hyejoo could kill you, a Taekwondo fighter since your childhood, she could also be incredibly cute too.

You tsk. "All that power and no technique."

Hyejoo sits back down none the more ashamed and scratches her head. "You think it would’ve been easier if we came clean?”

“Ahjumma could never allow two strangers to live co-ed. No way. I’m still surprised you came up with that so quickly.”

“It just came out so naturally, oppa!” she says in a deriding high pitch. “Yeah right I ever call you that again.”

Ring ring. You answer the call and Hyejoo's quizzical stare turns concerned at your breathlessness from the words that drill into your ear. They slam, they crash and their volume could break your eardrums even though they’re said as calmly as possible. The hole in your raft grows bigger and leaks more so even when you reach the abandoned shore, you're marooned.

"Fuck, fuck, god."

Sprint for the next bus. Pay no heed to the girl chasing you. Dammit, this can't be happening. Every problem gets fucking magnified because you can't have anything good and if you did, never could it last for more than a goddamn millisecond. You embark on the most anxious ride of your life even though you already know exactly what's going to happen. Transfer buses. The skyscrapers hover over you and gloat about how you’ll never enter their doors. Asphalt and glass swelter you when they reflect radiation down the sky. Your skin hurts. You get off the bus and arrive at the headquarters of the construction company. At the front of the building stands your boss.

Slap. "Did you not get the message? Were you under a tunnel?"

You get on your knees and bow. "Sir, I'm sorry."

"No one else is going to hire a goddamn delinquent like you."

"Please. I thought you understood." You nearly prostrate yourself

"I have no idea what you're talking about. There's a lot of assault on your record."

You stop yourself from blurting out that you fucking know. Defending yourself from bullies is assault? He already knew this was bullshit since that's why he hired you in the first place but now he's backtracking like a rat. 

"I'll do anything to work here." He shakes his head while you hold back a tear. "Please. Just. Just tell me why?"

"You got greedy."

"Greedy?" You raise your head and then your tone. "Getting paid for the work that I do is greed?"

"You're on your knees and wanna talk back? Get out."

Bang. A closing door. Your head slumps back down and not a single person on the bus would misunderstand your emotions. You take the longest way home, unsure if you even deserve to go back. Any time, you could give up.  Ponder your choices. Never going to get a job again. Never going to school. Never will have a chance to learn or a chance to improve. Never going to have money and never will have a place to live. Never going to see Hyejoo again. You have to give up.

One missed phone call from your polar opposite. She can do so much better. The longest way home turns longer when it goes straight to the sea as you decide to live life as a fisherman with your uncles. You were always invited. You wasted your time in the city. There's no stress here.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

There's no happiness either. Weeks passed even though only days passed. That’s life on the water. Everything spins. Fortunately, you manage to keep your stomach in not wanting to inconvenience the bus driver, the only other person in the vehicle. 

You look at your watch as you near Hyejoo's home. She must be asleep by now but you carry each foot heavily when you walk up the steps anyway. Apologies, excuses and petitions that you wrote in your head blank away when you open the door when you see a woman asleep on the couch with earbuds on. Her unconscious head bounces to a slow rhythm. Your lungs fail your mouth's movements to form words because of all that creamy skin covered only by a green towel that creates an outline of her captivating curves. Hyejoo's legs beg to be licked and her collarbones direct your gaze to the bulging flesh poking from the top of the towel with her nipples an inch from your sight. Any other day and you’d ravage her on the spot. Stupid brain tells you to leave and stupid you follows.

You're outside when you hear Hyejoo say, "Hey! Motherfucker, where'd you go you son of a bitch?"

She steps out with no regard to her state of dress and you spin around watching for any witness. You notice her hold back when she hits you but her consecutive punches send a message anyway as each strike punctuates her words, "What, makes you think, you can worry me, like that?"

"Woah, you should. You should get back inside your house," your voice breaks and you back away.

"Hold on now, you're really about to go? Like this?" Hyejoo says.

"You. You look busy. I have to go."

"I'm sorry, I was just messing around with you. Come on, you're really telling me-" She notices your tumultuous expression and sighs. “Fuck it, we'll worry about it tomorrow. First of all, come in. With me. Into our home.”

You follow her into her apartment. She quickly returns from her room in a simple white tee and red gym shorts revealing the supple shape of her ass.

“I'm not gonna ask, okay? Tell you what. When you have a problem, the only answer is late night soju, beer and?” she says.

“Chicken, it’s gotta be. Come on, I see the bones right there.” You point to the countertop dishes. “I’m surprised this place isn’t messier."

"I can handle myself, thank you very much. And that. That was leftover, dry, sober chicken. We're going to munch down on that good crispy skin and we're doing it goddamn wasted." You can't help but match her smile, more radiant and genuine than yours.

Hyejoo pulls out all the alcohol from the small fridge while you call for delivery before both of you step outside the home. It’s night but the heat would make you believe the moon disguises the sun with how it shines on the green roof. What a weird fall. Only the trees remind you of the season. A short plastic table as the only furniture easily moved outside means that you’d have to sit close together on the floor, not that you minded.

Her silence confuses you but she becomes her usual self after you both down glasses of mixed beer and soju and especially after she sees the delivery man bringing an absurd amount of plastic bags for two people.

“Let’s. Go!” she shouts sloppily.

The poor worker looks at you so you give him a knowing nod and point to the beer and soju cans strewn about. His thumbs up as he walks away beguiles you. You look at Hyejoo and realize all the cleavage she’s showing with the shirt she chose. It's as revealing as the towel she wore earlier. Did she not put on a bra? Stand up quickly and search for the guy but his motorcycle revs and he’s already out of sight. That fucker probably saw something he shouldn’t have. You’re never gonna order from that chicken spot again. You bite angrily into the spicy crispy wing. Alright, maybe you just won’t order at this hour or whenever that dude works. Hyejoo chows down with drumsticks on each hand and it’s clear she’s responsible for a majority of the finished carcasses. The stains on her shirt would not make her look any less goddamn cute.

“Cheers!” Glasses clink. How many drinks, how many, burp, were you down? She burps too, you burp together. It’s funny. There was a lot of conversation but it slips you.

"I said I wouldn't talk about it, but Doyun and Michael, worried sick. They came here, everything.” Hyejoo garbles her words.

"Just ‘cause I don't show up to the club for a few days?"

"I'm telling you, a lot of people care. For you. I know I do."

It’s been a while since you started your little escape. All the food’s gone. You’re more sober now. You swear. The nighttime is so comfortable that Hyejoo brings out her blanket to lay on, along with a spoon and a watermelon.

"You're gonna have to wash this later," you say.

“Alright fine. Don't. Don’t rest yourself besides a pretty lady.“ Stab. ”On a perfect starry night.” Stab. “And don’t have some of this delicious watermelon."

One more stab at the watermelon she splits it open. Her devilish look suggests she might do the same to your rib cage if you don’t acquiesce. Lie down next to Hyejoo on the flimsy layer of cloth. You share pieces of the fruit and notice water spilling down her mouth. Definitely sober by now. She’s maybe half a meter away.

"Starry's a strong word to use.”  You twirl your finger at the scarce lights in the black backdrop. “Lady too with the way you eat-" She playfully covers your mouth and flicks your forehead.

You don't know when your laughter and banter slow down, or when you start inching closer to her. It doesn't matter.

“Fishing is boring. They make it look all dramatic on shows and you’re just waiting. The night sky’s much clearer though.”

“You gotta. When you do something like that, gotta lemme join in at least.”

“You’re really fine on going on a trip with a man, alone, faraway on the sea?”

“If it’s you.”

“I don’t count, not much of a man at all. I just run away from shit and-”

"Shhh,” she shushes you loudly. “You can count on me.” Hyejoo says and you don’t let her voice project into empty space.

“I will.” It sounds a little forced from you.

“You will,“ she sounds so sure of herself, ”you’ll be okay.”

Your head lays in her neck. A finger in a cup, breaking surface tension so a drop escapes past the rim. You have no outdated sentiments on displaying emotion but you held back often pretending your tenacity was as strong as your body. Not this time. Your cup overflows.

Only moonlight refracts on your tears and Hyejoo wipes them away. You have no idea what she’s thinking as she gazes into the few stars visible in the city. Turn on your side and Hyejoo does likewise to face you then puts a couple of fingers in your hair. Cup her face in return and it wears many emotions, such as impishness, meekness at a few times, and an often impenetrable focus, but above all it’s the standard for beauty in how it assumes no blemish. Her triangle mouth is distinct, welcoming, but you hesitate. Her minute sugary fragrance overwhelms the variety of smells in the air. Crickets and distant occasional traffic. Hyejoo’s head tilts forward then places her lips light on yours and your world is silent. Your heart’s pulse slows so it doesn't interrupt.

“Captain,” you exhale out when she finally retreats her mouth. The name sounds ridiculous in this setting. “Ma’am?”

“Whatever sounds right to you,” she yields, though the subdued caresses on the definition of your arms, and less subtle grabs on your black shirt, convey that she’s in charge even if it’s a gentle direction. "Just Hyejoo is fine."

It's like she’s teaching you how to spar for the first time though neither of you are virgins. Hyejoo gives another kiss then turns you recumbent. You could not and would not stop her now especially when she straddles your denim covered thighs. Take off your shirt and her hands rush to aid you.

“But I’d prefer we don’t think at all.” Is she drooling?

“That’s what got me into trouble. Thoughtlessness.” Your eyes somehow wander away from the woman and her sumptuous yet clothed ass grinding on you.

“What do you think of me?

“Huh?” you say and your eyes snap back to her.

The underside of her shorts warm your groin. “I said, what do you think of me?”

“I think, ugh,” her weight striking a sensitivity in your pants makes you moan, “I think, you’re the most beautiful woman I know.”

“What a player. Well, that’s all you need to think.” Hyejoo rocks back and forth. “Fuck, this is going to be good.”

Lay your hands on her hips and Hyejoo takes your right one, lifting herself just enough to let your dick breathe.

“Why do you need that hand?” you say.

“Feel this.” She takes your hand to knead the thin cloth under her mound and you feel just the tiniest hint of moisture build on your palm.

Pull away to take a base whiff of your slippery fingers. It’ll be a new addiction. The smell of alcohol and the most delicious fried chicken in the world couldn’t compare.

"It's been like this around you since the day we met." Hyejoo bends down and etches every word of the confession into your eardrums, her tone even raspier. "This is all for you."

“Really?” You give her a peck and it turns frisky when tongues join the mix and teeth nibble at lips. 

“Mhm.” Her lips vibrate on yours. Hyejoo gropes your crotch over your jeans. “I know it's going to be perfect.” She unzips and pulls down your pants to your knees. You take them off your legs completely and she searches for your wallet.

"I just lost my job and you're gonna rob me?" She breaks her serious character with a snicker. You sniffle and your mood lightens, “And how’d you know I had a condom in there?”

“Just had a feeling.” She winks.

Not an implausible cold reading but you can't count out the possibility of her snooping through your personal effects. You don't mind her proclivities this time. Hyejoo traces your every muscle’s curve with her index and middle finger and focuses especially around your pecs.

“I have to concede. I love these muscles of yours. Ever since that first day I met you at the open house. Maybe I’m just a simple woman.”

“Simplicity is sophistication.” Her fingers draw a line down your torso.

"Indeed. But I'm most interested in this hunk of meat right," she frees your cock from its confines, "Here." Hyejoo licks her lips.

“How is it?”

You’re already hard but Hyejoo's hands deftly work your shaft stiffer. “It’s so thick and this vein right here. It’ll hit just right.”

"Fuck, Hyejoo," you utter when she spits a little on your cock before she unrolls the condom on your erection. Hyejoo slips aside her shorts.

You don't get a view of her pussy with how she sprawls herself on top of you, but the slickness of her lips and the warmth that she emanates from between her legs immerses your senses enough. The missionary with her on top lets her control by the way she guides your cock and presses down on you.

“Oh god, I was right, fuuck,” Hyejoo proclaims when she sinks herself carefully into you and, on the next bounce, smacks her butt right into your waist. Her snugness clenches and quakes on your cock. Willowy arms share a similar hold of your body when she embraces you. You need her as badly as she needs you. You take heavy breaths, especially through your nose. Even her sweat is so alluring. The velvet texture that surrounds you keeps taut on your dick no matter how forcefully she rides herself on top of you. Squelches and quiet moans to a higher power pepper the warm night air.

Hyejoo removes her shirt and slings it away before bowing back down to lick your ears "God, your tits are perfect," you say even though your hands squeeze her buttcheeks in time to her thrusts. Her perky breasts recoil back and forth as they rub your chest while hard nipples juxtapose their softness.

No chance someone would come up to this little rooftop at this hour or have a good view though your cheeks flush at the thought. What if you had extra chicken coming? Or what if the landlady decided to check in on you two late at night? What if-

Hyejoo nudges her forehead against yours. She knows your habits. Your worried face is too familiar for her not to react so she nuzzles your neck and surrounds you with kisses.

Her husky voice vibrates your whole face. "Just focus on me." She makes out with you before her tongue dips into every crevice of your face the same way your cock does in her pink pussy.

Your dick slips out for a second and you take the time to admire her beauty and your fortune. 

“Telling me not to drown and you’re going to inundate me,” you say in between her smooches, "With all these kisses."

“Well. Mwah.” Another peck. "You're so delectable.”

“So I’m just chicken to you then.” This deep kiss is probably to shut you up. You’re fine with that.

Regret on her mouth that she pulls away from you. One of you rips off her shorts, the last piece of clothing obstructing you two from total symmetry. Who cares who sees. You’re both fully naked with not a woe for the surrounding world. Delicate hands splayed across your upper body grasp tightly and again, your pecs get particular attention while she fondles your nipples. 

She adjusts her back straight up and now she’s on her knees seated on your erection. The cowgirl stance allows her to find a new cusp of your cock head inside her. Hyejoo gyrates on you and you notice the understated lubrication of her pussy begins to overpower everything else in existence. Her musk vaguely reminds you of the ocean while its pheromones have you just as wobbly. It’s enough that, even though you're on your back, you have to hold her waist to avoid keeling over. Nails dig into your chest.

“God, yes, you, your cock, everything, just fuck into me.”

Hyejoo relaxes her body weight and relinquishes the rhythm to you. Pick up a new wind in your sails when you hear her gasp as you pinch her nipples. The momentum has you use all your stamina as though your rigorous fitness had one culminating purpose. You would make Hyejoo cum with only your cock. Rotate and circle your pelvis in pursuit of her most tender spot and an uncharacteristic high pitched wail confirms the location of the treasure. It’s difficult holding yourself up to reach the sensitive wall but she realizes your shared interest.

“That’s, that’s the spot. When I touch myself and think of you, it’s right there, fuck, it’s right there.” There’s no speed or power in your movement, only deliberate jabs and graceful nudges at the softest flesh. Sure it’s work, but damn did you get paid for it since she somehow sops even more between her thighs. Truly the reciprocating delight of friction and silkiness on your dick’s tip is worth it. Your name mixes profanities and wet slapping noises as Hyejoo bucks her hips in climax. Prized juices cascade all over your lap. Her highest vocalizations pierce your ears and her pussy tries its best to milk you but Hyejoo keeps as still as she can to hold your cock’s ideal positioning. Smear the fluids that coat her thighs slick with your hands and lick at your fingers, thirsty like you’re stranded.

Those thighs, by smothering your cock and removing your condom, soothe the pangs of when you pull out. Hyejoo is still in her cowgirl position reeling from her climax and her contorted face is yet more polished than any art you’ve consumed.

Seize the opportunity. Bend your dick forward. The topside of your shaft now rubs on her well-formed ass cheeks, moisturized by the wetness on your cock. Its cradle is different from her pussy's with perfect round cushions in her buns and a tight asshole that greets and tempts your shaft every time you thrust. It’s a siren call you’d have to answer another day. Fucking her bare buttcheeks satisfies you plenty enough.

She lifts up to let your erection return to its idle upward stance and you fuck her thighs in response. Her labia gnaws away at the bottom of your shaft and it begs you to shove it back in especially with how its liquor intoxicates your dick. You don’t forfeit, already overwhelmed by the thickness of her legs and her saliva dribbling from her mouth to help her juices. Hyejoo squirms as you repeat fucking her ass cheeks and fucking her thighs, and it makes the both of you feel heady. Alcohol and lack of sleep would probably do that too.

“Please. Hyejoo,” you implore, flexing your cock to scrape by her pussy lips.

“You want to?” She teases your bare tip but even just the spread of her satin pink on your head makes you shoot just a little. “I. I dunno.”

“Can we?”

“No.” You regret your loud sigh and feel selfish since you already had more satisfaction than one man could ever experience in his life. ”No, not no. No, as in no thinking.”

Plunge back into her wetness. Your cycle in and out continues with you eager to make her climax a second time. Maybe it’s the third time? The only thing you can recall is that this round, you can feel every corner of her pussy on your shaft tensing and relaxing without the latex protection. All of everything is a blur. Hyejoo could be clutching and ogling your muscles. She might be kissing your neck or maybe she’s bobbing up and down to show off her tits and her tummy. God, that midriff would look perfect coated in your cum. You could live forever with Hyejoo mounted on your cock and riding. A ringtone interrupts forever once again. It’s from that number. What was that number? Fuck it, no thinking. Her bouncing tits hypnotize you away from substantiality.

She snaps her fingers. “Hey! Hey. This is, fuck that feels so good, god your cock is just right. Ah fuck, I really think you should answer that.” You take an eternity to slow your boat. Hyejoo points to your phone on the table next to you. Work. She’s right. Both of you take a second to stabilize your breathing. Try to push her off but she refuses, shifting her mass onto your lap and keeping her pussy’s hold tight and warm on you.

“Really?” You groan, “You’re the one who told me to answer it.”

“It’s so late and they haven’t stopped calling.” She rests her head on your chest and yawns. “Your cock is sooo big in me. Don’t even need to move.”

Channel your practice silently jerking off to keep your cool though years of doing that couldn’t prepare you for this. Your hands certainly tried but never could imitate her pussy’s plush tightness. Really wish you didn’t have to but finally, you answer your phone after minutes of ringing. The voice on the other side mumbles a greeting. Didn’t expect to hear him. “Joonho. Why the fuck are you calling now?”

“It’s me! Joonho.”

“Yeah, I know. The hell you calling for?”

“Now that’s no way to speak to your boss, is it?”

“Huh?”

“I said that’s no way to speak.”

“I got that!”

“Hyung. That asshole, management fired him.”

“You telling me-”

“Yeah, they caught him stealing.”

“How the fuck?”

“Dude got too big for his britches and aimed up with his theft too. Mr. Son really didn’t like that shit.”

You cheer in your head. It wakes up the girl resting on you. Guess that wasn’t in your head. “Fuck man.”

"I know right. Fuck him!" You're not on speaker but Hyejoo must’ve heard him say that. You massage your ringing ear.

“Ow. But thank you. Seriously, it’s so late. You could’ve called me tomorrow.”

“I’m drunk as shit man. Sounds like you are too.” You don’t even realize how much you’re slurring your words. “Should I pull up, maybe we drink a little more?”

Stare at the woman still holding your cock in place, fluttering her lashes at you. Hyejoo mouths if you’re gonna take much longer. “I. I don’t think I will. We’ll have to meet up some other time, okay?”

Understanding that you’re winding down your call, she gets back upright and starts bouncing again. “You gonna pass out or something?” Joonho says.

“Something like that.” Hyejoo teasingly drops her waist into you and waits, then lifts herself. You purse your lips. “Listen, ah.” And again. Purposeful slams into your cock too loud not to be picked up by a phone. “God. I gotta go, I’ll text you again tomorrow aight goodbye,” you rush your words.

She holds her hair up in pleasure and her profane cries let everyone living below know that you’re fucking the most gorgeous girl with more energy than you’ve ever had. For all the pressure on your sensitive nerves, it’s that image of Hyejoo satisfying her need with your cock that brings you closer.

“I’m almost there! Fuck, fuck.” You pull out and despite her drowsiness, Hyejoo diligently takes your dick with both hands, scoots back and bends down, slobbering on it with her mouth while her fingers stroke the skin of your shaft.

Hyejoo’s lips pop when she releases your cock’s tip. “Where do you wanna-”

“Those fucking perfect abs,” you shudder.

She takes advantage of your previous thrusts’ zeal on her thighs and repositions herself in cowgirl one last time to bend back and choke your cock with her toned legs. One single motion is all it takes. A tsunami and a storm clash. Didn’t remind her that you hadn’t cum at all away at sea as you explode. You call out, “Hyejoo, god, yes, fuck, Hyejoo, yes,” at every wave of pleasure. Shove desperately and Hyejoo’s eyes grow big at how much semen streams out of your slit because the volume of cum nearly rivals the fluid she ejected from her wetness. Her inner thighs, her lap and her stomach all soak in stickiness. She holds onto your arms as she finds enjoyment not only from your cock’s throbbing on her clit, but at your biceps and other curves. An inquisitive pinky takes a sample of your cum to lick up then, to your surprise, she collects all the cum she can with both hands and swallows it down.

“Ahh,” she presents her tongue to you.

Finally, you sit up and no amount of exhaustion would stop you from nibbling her neck as thanks.

“Relax, you hungry beast. You just came all over me and now you’re trying to tell the world we just fucked.” She gives you a little suck on your lips instead.

“I don’t mind.” You clash at her mouth and your teeth click. She smiles and gives you a deep but final smooch. Both of you breathe stiltedly and take time to readjust into the world once again.

“Me neither, if I didn’t have a presentation tomorrow.”

You fall back and feel everything aching in a good way. “Ah shit, school.”

“What did I tell you earlier?”

“Hmm?”

Hyejoo falls flat next to you and clasps her hands into yours. “You will be okay. I called them with an excuse. Speaking of which. You’re gonna find out sooner or later that a certain cool as fuck girl blew the whistle on that son of a bitch.”

This whole thing feels like it should be temporary, like a one-time thing. Any more and it’d be weird, yet her confidence makes you reroute all that anxious energy in your heart’s pace into something good. It’s not love but, “Thanks. I just. Thank you.”

“You are always welcome.” Her lips curl up.

“So. You a snitch now, huh?"

"Relax,” she hisses the end of the word. ”Maybe I snooped through the construction company records, maybe I didn’t. You didn’t hear from me, ‘kay?" She nudges your side with her elbow.

“Hey!” You laugh a little, ticklish in that spot. “Okay, okay. How’d you manage that anyway?”

“Joonho didn’t mention it? Well, I have my connections,” Hyejoo says.

You breathe out and you deserve it. “You really are the Captain.”

“Damn right. Guess you’re stuck on this boat a little.” Yawn. “Longer.” Her eyelids slowly descend.

Watch Hyejoo fall asleep and realize she’s nude and still a little sticky. You decide to make a smart decision just once by putting away all the garbage in your apartment. She giggles reflexively when you clean her up and you struggle but manage to put on her previous outfit.

After you get dressed yourself, you lie next to Hyejoo and watch the few lights in the sky all distanced from each other. You feel a little reticent but the old lady shouldn’t fret if the outdoors is a better bedroom for one night. Close your eyes. Drift away into the best sleep you’ve ever had even if it’s only you and a blanket separate the hard concrete rooftop from the atmosphere. Dreams of water are gracious for once. The ocean lacks bounds and you smile for it. Who cares about tomorrow? It’s made of sticks and rope fashioned from whatever bamboo you could find but the raft holds two. That’s all you need.

Dal Segno ft. Chuu

Composition is only fifty percent of the process, you've heard, but it's closer to ten for you. For the importance of a solid melody and chord progression with the right instruments and singer, a song becomes less than the sum of its parts with bad mixing because all that effort goes to waste when you can’t hear something, or when something is too loud, or when a certain je ne sais quoi is wrong. But you do know. You don't have to be a chef to be a food critic but it certainly helps. Avoid muddling the lows as it waters down the soup. Carve space in the highs to prevent too much salt from killing the taste buds. Have at most five sounds at a time or else the flavors clash. Focus on these basic techniques to guide you as repetition wears down your mind. Funny. Repetition legitimizes especially in music yet here you are fatigued by repetition as though you weren't down four cups of black coffee. Repetition legitimizes. “From the sign,” the translation reads. Notation, simply instructing a musician to return to a certain point in a piece. You recognize it as an intro song you wrote years ago.

Glass and foam separate the undersized room. Cheap ramen and dampness in the hot air contribute to the odor. You would keep the fan on, if it were worth the extra time filtering out faint noise from recordings. The only scent that keeps you sane is a slight strawberry flavor lingering in the room. Jiwoo. Your muse. A large clock holds both of its hands near one with the lack of natural light muddling whether it’s AM or PM. Studios were always underground man-caves whether they were discount rooms or the signature workspace of the biggest producers. Here you are in the former. Look down at the Macbook and all the wires, sliders, and knobs. Deep breath. “Take 63,” you say into the cheap control room microphone.

“Not good enough.”

“Again.”

“One more.”

Look up. Jiwoo sucks down on a grape lollipop. You stare. Watching her fixated on getting all flavor out of the purple sweet derails your flow state. See, work had a rhythm. Listen, volume up, hotkey to copy this clip, volume down. The obvious innuendo sends you offbeat. That perky butt bending over to get a notebook filled with lyrics entrenches the folds of your brain. She didn’t have to wear that skirt. You’ve seen that skirt already and you wish she weren’t wearing it. Oh, you really wish she weren’t wearing that skirt. Guilt sets in. You’re a trusted coworker, she, a naive girl. It takes a while to find your groove again. Your stare has yet to cease until she finally returns the eye contact with candy still in mouth. Her pink tongue laps to secure all the sugar and red pillows engulf the ever-shrinking circle. Pop. Anyone else and it would be calculated action.

“Oppa." Her voice resounds in your monitor headphones. "I don’t know if these harmonies really make sense. Why did you write the second voice to cross down below the main line? Plus it goes so low."

“To be fair, you wrote both of those melodies and you said you wanted them in the same song. Tell me anywhere else they’d work.”

“Ugh, let’s figure this out later. Next song.“

Dozens of takes later and Jiwoo’s frustration causes her to make mistakes. Sometimes she even tries to start singing with the sucker in her mouth. For the character she plays, you know she’s a professional and that she can be better. Yet hours later, she still could not get the vocal runs right. Incomplete songs bloat your project folder: "Jiwoo - Mania", "Jiwoo - Look Closer", "Jiwoo - Untitled Idea 21". Just a small side project that the company approved during another ample period of break time between comebacks. That’s why the director didn’t even let you use the company’s facilities, instead opting to rent out this cheap closet of a studio. At least no one would be mad about the amount of time you spent recording together.

You shift seats from the leather office chair to the white lovechair, the only two pieces of furniture that fit comfortably in the room. Jiwoo follows suit and leaves the recording booth, really more of a phone booth in square footage, while she huffs and puffs on her candy.

“I’m tired, oppa,” she says.

“Me too, Jiwoo. May I remind you that I’m not getting paid extra for this. Are you gonna focus or what?” your voice just a few cents down, just a bit harsher.

“I, I’m sorry.” A lick anyway. Her meek tone disappears, “Ya! You know how good your royalties are gonna be. Sole producer and all that. Plus, here you are still doing all this work for me." Why were you working so hard on this? "You know, if you just taught me how to use Ableton-”

“Then I’d be out of a job.”

Jiwoo frowns, “Wow, selfish much? You could’ve joined me as a trainee.”

“Nah, no way. Fish dance better.”

“Shut up, oppa. You would’ve easily made it with your, um, musical talent.” She clamps down on the lollipop with her mouth.

“You good? What was that?”

“Let’s," she stands promptly, "get back to recording.”

Crack. Jiwoo bites down on the lollipop and throws the stick in the trash. In ten minutes, she nails the verse she spent hours trying to get right. It'd be really nice to know what catalyzed that rally. You'd ask but driving Jiwoo back to her dorm is quiet as usual.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Make a good impression on someone, anyone, on your first day as a mixing engineer. That’s why you returned to the Blockberry Creative building with an extra bar of Melona in hand. A simple bribery. Light beamed down between two skyscrapers on a short girl with long hair and strands of bangs adorning her forehead. She stood outside the lobby, introducing herself to every passerby. You had to pinch her cheeks, the intrusive thought screamed.

She scurried up to you. “Hi! I’m Kim Jiwoo and I’m going to become an idol!”

Ah, a trainee. You already knew she was destined to become one. Well, not literally, you weren’t in charge of that. But her overflowing charm was impossible to ignore. You had to tease her though, “Are you sure?”

“Hey! What would you know about that, mister?” she said.

You bit down on your mango. “Mister? First of all, I’m only a high school senior,” her lips rounded in surprise, “And second, I’m your new audio guy, and I know for a fact they’re debuting you girls in order of talent.”

“Woooow. Well, I’ll have you know, I have a great voice!” She certainly spoke lyrically.  “Wait a minute, I didn’t know they hired people that young.” You pointed at her. “Okay, I’m in high school too. But that’s different, idols start this age.”

“I guess. I’ve been making music ever since I was a kid, and they liked what I had,” you said and Jiwoo nodded in understanding.

She fluttered her eyebrows. “Sooo, is that mango ice cream for me? Oppa?” A little surprised she already called you that, but it sounded right.

“No, I have this unopened strawberry-” Jiwoo snatched the half-eaten cold treat from your hand, and started licking it. Trouble she would be.

You spent many recording sessions together, alone after all the other members left. She cozied up to you because her little musical snippets had to become full-fledged tracks and you helped her out every time.

Something changed over the years however. Your interactions became colder. It felt like you were the only one who she would respond to in a deeper voice. Jiwoo wouldn't pepper you with silly acts or mess around. Maybe she took you more seriously which is how you managed to make more songs together regardless. Then, you stood idly by and watched her debut. Who didn't love her? But when she was with you, you missed the playfulness, the ice cream and her riffing over your playful guitar strums. It turned less of a hobby and more of a job though you never regretted any second with Jiwoo regardless.

Under the Earth's largest natural satellite, you shared a simple meal in black bean noodles. She was still in her hippie outfit from the comeback, and you handed her your jacket since it was cold. You realized, there was something else there that you were too inexperienced to notice. Your bodies' radiation replace the chill in the air, a bubble with just the two of you eating on the grass in a park near your dorm. A cliche slurping on one noodle and Jiwoo pulled away. In embarrassment, like a damn anime character, she hiccuped. Good thing you didn't close your eyes when you leaned in.

“Wanna make an album together?” Jiwoo says.

“Sure.”

You threw away the noodles’ package and escorted her home. That was all you expected anyway. Fine.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“That’s enough!”

Three goddamn weeks. It's been three goddamn weeks and you've barely made any progress.

Barge into the booth, slam the door shut and raise your tone, just below a shout, “I've had it up to here! You know how many of my songs have been mashed together in some unholy quest for your perfection? Just one unknown something is missing and either you start complaining or we move on to the next."

She backs up from the mic to the insulated wall but you continue, paying no heed to her, as you spout your piece to the artificially cold air, "You know how much time I’ve spent outside working on these songs? These are songs I’ve saved up over years. And you trash them like they’re nothing. How do you even manage to record LOONA tracks?”

Regret sinks in. This was your passion project as much as hers. Was it frustration from the recordings? Weeks of the same routine and it took until now for you to give in to your temper.

"It wouldn't even be that bad! If you could just one time, you could be cute or cheerful again with me, or,” Fuck. So stupid. You don’t have to take your friendships for granted like this. You’re lucky enough she treats you as much. “Hold on. Wait, I'm-"

Examine her face. It’s not sour and she hasn’t stormed out or even slapped you.

“No, no. You don’t have to say it. I’m. I’m sorry oppa.” She looks down. “I'm the one messing up after all." Her heartbeat a harsh snare drum. "And you. You're. Different. Looking at you always made me feel some, something funny. Not funny but? Ugh. I wish I could explain it.”

You hold in your confusion.

She blabbers on, “Like, are. Are you mad? I promise you, I,” A nervous breath, ”I like you. Okay?"

Your confusion grows like the length of your silence.

"I’m just acting how I really am with you. Do you want to maybe, I don't know, like," her voice decrescendos, "Um. Punish me?”

Your heart, your brain are deprived of blood as it all rushes down. Did you hear that right? Not an apology, not retribution, but a call to punishment? Misinterpreting her, the consequences would be dire but that damned demure tone for such an erotic request. Was Jiwoo the exact type of slut constructed in your mind? The one that made you feel sinful for even imagining. No, no, there's no way.

Too late. Jiwoo must have noticed the absurd bulge now. It had to be these Adidas pants today. Fuck it. Life can’t be lived fully without risk. Hopefully, the same switch turned in her mind. You remove all ire from your face and say in earnest, “Do you like games?"

She lights up a little. You sigh relieved.

"Let’s try…”, you say, ”Strip recording.” She lights up a little more, so you go on, ”If I mess up anything, the mix, the composition, the arrangement, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Your choice. And every time you mess up-”

Jiwoo unbuttons her denim shorts and brings them down her tight legs.

“D- did I say now?”

However, with her resolve steeled, she continues pulling them. "So what? I did mess up, right?" she says coquettish. Deliberate the turn she makes when she bows down to remove the shorts from her legs, Jiwoo reveals a hint of her innie pussy on that same little ass that ran through your mind earlier. A small trace of her thighs glistens, the only thing reflecting the single lightbulb’s glow in the microphone’s abode. She turns back to face you. "Please. Punish me."

Step closer until Jiwoo backs up to the soundproofing. She’s an eighth note away from your face, flashing her beady eyes and a coy smile, ”Where's your underwear?" A little drop spills out onto the floor, "And why are you so wet, Jiwoo-ah?”

Red on her cheeks, like she only now realized her dishevelment in front of you. “You just… Something about you snapping at me. I don’t get it either. I knew you'd do it, some day, I wanted you to," she mumbles in her best efforts to answer you.

“Have you ever worn underwear to the recordings?”

Those efforts continue to fail.

"Oh, Kim Jiwoo. What do I do with you?" One of your hands grabs her cheek. The other crawls down her back to grab her cheek.

“Oppa… Do I have to say it?”

“I want to hear every." Smack. "Word." Smack. She slips a moan.

“Can you," she says, "can you use my mouth?”

You disguise your long pause as thought, teasing the bare skin of her ass with your exploratory fingers to bide time, but it's an expression of your shock. The interruption helps you come up with a more suitable punishment however.

“How about this then. Every time you mess up, you have to give me a blowjob. Call?”

“Call!” Once more, unprompted, she kneels down in front of you and claws away your track pants. You roll with the punches.

"Oppaa," with an pronounced pop and in a sing-songy rhythm, "I've always wanted to know, if your dick-" It certainly didn't need Jiwoo's dainty hands pulling on your boxers, as it would've sprang out on its own with how like diamond your cock is getting.

"Fuuuck," the first profanity you ever hear her utter, she lilts. "Please. Oppa. Fuck my face?"

After all she said, she could still surprise you. Bring your hips forward and just as you would've her pussy, tease Jiwoo’s lips with the head of your dick. She parts them open, starved, anxious.

Hold her by the chin. "Wait."

She freezes at the command. Again, like foreplay, rub her lips with that head making them turn redder and more plump. You sweep aside her bangs to see her begging eyes. More importantly, slide your dick up to her nude forehead to slap as a first act of retribution. “A-ah!” Jiwoo stutters as you slap her face with your manhood again and again. Bring your cock back down and she's already a mess without you even having entered her mouth. A little drool from her shut lips gently massages your balls while a bit of precum drools from your slit to meet those lips.

Jiwoo mumbles as best as she can with you holding her jaw shut and your dick on her lips, "Please. Please. Shove your dick in me. I need you in my mouth."

You squint your rough eyes to command her.

Muffled still, "Oppa. Please. I. I need to taste you. You just, you're so thick and you're so long and cock is perfect and please I just-"  Loosen the grip on her chin to let her envelop the entire tip with her warm lips. "Mmmmm..." the moan resonates a saw wave and your stern resolve fades away on your first entrance into her face but it returns as her teeth rub against you. She quickly readjusts her jaw but it takes multiple attempts of you pulling out and her sucking you back until only silken lips hold your cock's head. Finally. A focused glint in her eyes. She endeavours to keep your tip in her mouth as long as possible.

You were mad at her earlier, weren't you?

Recall this anger and press yourself into her with all your hips' strength, working against the force of her lip's airtight suction. Saliva leaks to betray the seal. Jiwoo's prying tongue explores the underside of your cock but you reach an impasse while she's not even halfway down the shaft. You shove your dick deeper but to no avail and tears roll down her eyes joining the fluids coating her lips. Thus you exit back out. And back in you go to repeat and repeat and slowly increase your rate, becoming rough sex with her diligent mouth. All the positions you’ve imagined fucking her little pussy, you picture using her throat instead. Even in this compact studio, the couch, chair and desk would provide ample support for you to use her in many ways. The dirty thoughts inspire your speed right now. She slurps and gulps at every quick plunge but you realize her moans and rumbles aren't just incoherent reactions. You decelerate.

“Ah, ahhh, ahhhhhh… Ah’ve ahways- Hmph.” She slurs as she tries her hardest to communicate while her airway is blocked.

She slides up your cock to catch some air, “Thought about it- Mmm.”

“Your dick in my mouth and it’s just so pew, fect- Ahhh.” Jiwoo's lips let go gently then her tongue sticks out to lick up your cock and she shows off a trail of spit leading to your tip. A less patient man would’ve jerked himself off right there to grant her eyes and open mouth's unison request to feed on your cum.

Instead you retort, “You think you’ve earned it? Not even halfway down. Going nowhere, just like our recording sessions, huh?”

“Shut up!”

“Oof.” You’re already weak in the knees so Jiwoo's one handed shove sends your tailbone to the floor. Since you’re still dazed by her confounding strength, she takes initiative and kowtows her head into your lap to crawl down your cock with her tiny lips. Fondling your balls, Jiwoo starts from the furthest point she could muster on your shaft up to your cock head. Her tongue follows back and she starts playing under your tip to swirl that tongue around the most sensitive parts until it explores your slit. You buckle and groan. Jiwoo sucks and spits and sucks while she circles only the most minimal twisting motion of her lips on your head. This is the Jiwoo you know. Relentless. Only now your load is her magnus opus.

Her right hand strays downwards and her face on your dick blocks a full view but you can tell that hand is working as intensely as her mouth. As she strokes herself with more vigor, she starts humming a satisfied melody on your tip. In kind, your subtle grunts turn into full-bodied moans. You're a single measure away from your coda so you reach down and pull her off your cock by grabbing her neck.

You glare into her. “Desperate little girl, aren't you?”

Her breath is stilted and she's nearly shaking. “Please…” she sobs, ”You, you want it as bad as I do right?” Of course. “Won't you just cum for me?” Not now. Not when you have putty in your hands.

“You're making a mess. You can't take me all the way down. And I see that it’s not just your saliva coating the floor.” Point to the spot where she kneels, her drool joins a stain growing ever larger with a strand of juice from her pussy flowing as you continue to berate her. Then you point to her hand. Ha. “Were you playing with yourself using my pencil?”

“No… Wait!”

You back off. “Your top’s a mess too. Anyone can tell I just fucked your face.” You take off your black hoodie and give it to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our next session.”

“Wait, we didn’t book tomorrow, did we? Also, you can’t just leave me like this! Oppa!”

"I said, I'll see you tomorrow. I have to go,“ you remind her, ”Ha Rin’s picking you up. And give me back that pencil.”

She hands it to you, unable to meet your eyes despite hers lusting over your cock. You'll definitely use the alluring musk on it for later to save you from your self-induced blue balls. Exit the booth. Of course she barely waits to use your hoodie the same way since she doesn’t notice you lingering in the room. Instead of hiding the grey long sleeve that soaks her neck, your used sweatshirt covers Jiwoo's face as her fingers make the mess on the floor larger.

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism." Click. Clack.

"Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a  win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts. 

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

Wintertide Inside ft. Gahyeon

Maybe it’s obvious, but you’re thankful for Gahyeon’s ass. A simple contract—if you need a cocksleeve to wrap you or if your girlfriend needs a toy to fill her, neither of you would say no. You’re nominally in charge today but the outcome’s the same either way, with cum seeping from both ends of her tract and your cock sore in the best plight a man can have. 

Swift moans interject her snoring to surface you from your nap, probably because of flashes of biting air that creep in from some draft in the room. Her red crop-top is the only article of clothing on her scrumptious physique while you’re completely stark.  Don’t want to get up so you hold her somehow closer with no worry for your own frigidity. Gahyeon is tiny in your entwine. As you emanate heat from your torso to her back, she returns it tenfold between her legs. 

The incongruity of her pussy is that it’s both uncomfortable and comforting.  Stressfully tight and lovingly wet, while grueling clenches verge on coaxing yet another orgasm from you. Its quaver can be measured in millimeters when your cock etches its shape more permanent. Yesterday’s regrets and tomorrow’s worries become dust in your brain as it toils to memorize each of her inner folds.

Therefore more than the mouthwatering shape or size, you’re grateful for the cushion of her buttcheeks because it rivals your couch’s plushness and distracts you from your imminent peak, your third or fourth today. Losing track is easy when she keeps your cock incarcerated for so long. The threat of climax fades away and returns as quickly while single pulses reiterate how close to the edge you are. No lights on in your living room. Don’t need them. Nothing in your head other than Gahyeon anyway.

Rays spill through the thick curtains and a sliver barely misses her eyes to fall on yours instead. However, she rouses too from her sleep when a pillow between her legs slips to the floor. Nothing funny but you both giggle.

“How’s your nap, babe?” you say. 

She twitches at the warm air tickling her ears, and cold the rest of her skin, but you manage to keep most of your body stationary in Gahyeon’s embrace. 

She yawns and stretches her arms, pushing back on the edge of the couch. “I think I had an amazing dream. Brr.” Gahyeon shakes a bit from the cold.

“Dummy, you don’t dream until you hit R.E.M.” You point and she bends down to grab the thick blue blanket that fell on the floor. A small hum arises from you at the slight shift in angle. Look at the white clock above the TV and point again. “It’s only been like twenty.”

Gahyeon hands the blanket to you and you swathe it around your two bodies, calming both of your shivers. “Felt like forever. Pff, I was trying to be all romantic.”

“Why be romantic when-” Your words fall to breathy laments when the smoothest swing of her hips turn millimeters of movement to centimeters. The friction from only fractions of your length force a whimper out of her as it does a throb from you.

Gahyeon’s moans turn to more desperate whimpers in kind. Her hand aims below her crop-top and your shaft feels the curious kneading of her fingers below her belly button. Another throb. “Fuck. I still feel your cum inside. It’s almost too much.”

“Then why are you grinding so much? I’m barely running on empty.”

Your head is so fuzzy, you can’t tell how she manages to get on top of you while keeping your cock inside the entire time. For as savory as it is to look or smell or listen to her cute grunts, the only sensation that passes to your mind is her tightness twisting around your shaft. 

Gahyeon sits up and collects a bit of leakage with a finger, provocatively sucking it. “Nice try but I know the taste of your fresh load.”

“Fuck, you make my cock so sensitive. Such a good cumslut.” 

She gulps and bats her eyes so you pull her hair down, and your lips converge. Your core reignites when Gahyeon starts jolting her hips down hard on yours, and you note that her walls aren’t just clingy with your semen but that her pussy is lubricious with girl cum. It’s her turn to be the fucktoy but she’s stalwart in riding you. You’re in no condition to object. 

Gahyeon looks up at the clock and she slows down though not fully arresting her momentum. “Wait a sec, why didn’t you tell me the time?” she says after a thrust and a pant.

You shrug and she blows air out of her lips. Not a mind reader here.

Her pussy almost snaps shut when she gets off you. She steals the blanket while she’s at it. ”Right, should’ve told you to remind me. How am I supposed to focus on the performance later with this in me the whole time?” Gahyeon says, wiping the sticky load dripping from her other lips.

“Man, the blanket’s gonna be sticky now.”

“Sorry babe, I’ll try to do a better job keeping it inside me, okay?”

Stand up and grab some tissues for the fluids coating her groin before you clean yourself the same. You shiver at the air occasionally sweeping the room because you don exactly one less garment than Gahyeon, but it’s about making a statement. It’s your apartment dammit so you can be nude at any hour if you want to be. 

Widen the curtains and suffuse the room with natural white light. Look outside, your undraped stature proud and unsympathetic to the outside world to which you expose yourself. Sky and trees are near monochrome as the snow piles up on the grass which adds to the subtraction of color. 

“You’re so weird,” she says. Your dick flops as you turn around and flaunt your butt to mother nature itself, knowing its coldness towards you isn’t solely metaphorical in this season.

“This is our first winter together, my first new year in my own apartment. I have to be excited.” You raise your arms.

“Fair. You wouldn’t be here without me.”A signature curly smile and she joins your side to admire the snowy sight, letting you share in some—no, not all—of the warmness of the blanket.

“I mean if we were normal, I wouldn’t have left.” You hug Gahyeon and give her a smooch on her forehead. “But I needed my own place for my little cum-hungry, cum-greedy cockwarmer.”

Pink always spreads her cheeks at your brazen words. Her tummy presses on your softening cock and brings it back to life but she backs away. Gahyeon brings the back of each of her hands to her sides. “Right, speaking of which. Can I take one of my panties from your drawer?”

“You didn’t bring any? Hold on, that was supposed to be a secret!” you say.

“Yeah, obviously I know about them, stupid. You didn’t even notice when I packed a couple in there myself when you moved, did you?” 

She’s right, you didn’t, so shake your head. Gahyeon giggles then gives you the blanket again before she heads to your room. “I’ll be back soon, okay!” she yells while you fiddle with the thermostat. 

Grab some tortilla chips from the pantry then sit on the couch bundled in the blanket and turn to a channel that’s just playing a loop of a fireplace. At least the crackling sounds realistic with your speakers. 

In only a few minutes, she already has a full winter outfit on, a bright tomato that would stand out sorely in the snow. The apartment is already a lot mellower so you put the blanket away to wash later. Gahyeon is enticing no matter what she wears but you’re warm inside seeing your girlfriend wrapped up, though warmth also comes from the humiliation finally setting in from the contrast between her state of dress and yours.

“Did you hear me? I said I’ll be back soon.”

“Come on, the apartment isn't that big.” Get up to kiss her goodbye. ”Hurry back. There should be plenty of sun left and I wanna see the sun shine on your face with my cock in it.”

Open your laptop on your coffee table and promise to yourself that you’ll finish editing that teaser. It’s just a little distraction when you pore over videos you worked on recently, just reviewing your work to get ideas for how to cut. However, like a good and fully whipped man, one thing leads to another, one Dreamcatcher music video later—you’re proud of working on that one—and you’re back to the fancams of your girlfriend dancing. A similar, but less revealing crop-top, brief black shorts that strut the beautiful width of her thighs that you live between. Losing much weight, they’re still ample enough to stifle your cock on their own, without her amazing pussy’s help. Your erection should be exhausted but it returns at the sight of the jiggling. Two hands begin their work as Fly High plays.

A fluffy red jacket slams into your head. “You slob, put some clothes on!”

“What are you doing home?”

“Look at all the snow! What are you doing naked?”

“It’s my apartment, dang it! You know I’m naked all the time.” Didn’t mean to raise your tone there but she looks a touch distressed. You run up to her and give her a heavy drawn-out embrace.

“Babe,” she says, a little reluctant in the hug.

“I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.”

“No babe, it’s fine.”

“I was jerking it to you if it helps.”

“That doesn’t help, stupid. You’re gonna get this dress messy!” Gahyeon grabs your dick which leaks some precum. She bites her lip.

“Oh, sorry,” you say. You back off and retrieve the parka that fell on the floor and from all its pockets spill condoms like a deck of cards and a bad hand.

“Holy shit,” Gahyeon says. Whatever minute ire that remains burns away at her adorable laughter mixing with yours.

“Fuck, imagine if someone caught you with those.”

“Shit. Yoobin almost put her hand in my pocket for no reason.”

“Nah, she would’ve laughed just as hard.”

“You’re right.” Gahyeon bends down to pick the condoms up and you take your sweet time to help her. “We haven’t used these in so long,” she says.

“You wanna? Old time’s sake? Ha, fuck no.” Feeling bad for making her do all that work to appreciate her ass even in the baggiest pants possible, you spank her.  Wait, that’s not the solution. ”You should change first. I’ll clean up.”

There’s grey shorts and a plain white shirt in the dryer, so grab them. Gahyeon returns with her hair in twin buns, a short pink skirt and a white long sleeve half-shirt that manages to show off her cleavage from the top and the bottom.

“I hope that’s not a stage outfit.”

“Of course not. I just wanted to look more like a dumb slut for your dick.”

And with that, thoughts empty. As she crawls towards you, grab a wad of her hair. “So it’s like that today. Well shit, good job.”

“Thank you!” Only the corners of Gahyeon’s lips turn. “A good toy only has one purpose.” 

Fulfill that purpose and shove her head down to its rightful place. Gahyeon takes a single stroke into her throat, with nary a sound as she takes the entire length into her practice throat, but she pulls her lips back up to your cockhead. “You’ll be good there?” you say.

“Mhm,” she says with her usual mouthful.

You get a bit of video cutting done for an hour or so with her lips on your cock head, occasionally patting her head. Occasional moans slip out but you keep focused and erect at the same time. At some point during your work, you offer her one of your earphones to listen to your synthwave music. Despite maintaining an enthusiastic hold on your tip, Gahyeon looks a little tired from kneeling so long.

“Aww, baby, do your knees hurt?”

“Mm, I’m fine,” she mumbles while keeping her lips on your tip.

“Why are you pouting a little then?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, come here.”

Stoop to give her a passionate, drawn-out kiss, though it always turns out the same. You realize how long you could do nothing but make out with your girlfriend. You love the way Gahyeon competes with you, where your tongues battle and you each threaten to suck the air out of each other’s lungs. It’s impossible to keep your heart’s pace steady and you’d be remiss for your hands not to dig into every inch of her skin as she wanders the same on you.

Of course, there’s only one place those hands could lead to. Smack. You swear her ass ripples. “Now get back to sucking slut.”

You wipe the drool off your face but you interrupt her doing the same; she looks good messy. Gaheyon lays on the couch with her head on your lap. You can’t see her face but if she needs to get a better angle to watch Knowing Bros, then so be it. Her lips fasten your cock just the same. She sticks her ass up and a reflective circle seals her asshole.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Friend got it for Christmas, secret Santa.”

“Bora?”

“Mhmmmm-” Gahyeon draws out the vibration of the last consonant on your cock. 

A couple of hours later, you finish your work and send emails.  Once in a while you stroke her hair but she gives more suction in response, sending you ever closer to release. How greedy of her, she’s certainly swallowed enough cum just from premature singular pulses but Gahyeon doesn’t stop when you lay down the law and slap her ass.

“Whose turn is it. huh?”

Every hit of her ass emboldens her sucking, as she goes deeper.

“So you wanna be a brat? I said, whose turn is it!”

She gags for the first time in a while, spewing much spit, when you pull slowly but abruptly on the shiny buttplug after slapping her ass a final time. Lube spills out.

Gahyeon breathes heavy breaths on your cock. “Fuck. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Woah. Now that’s new.” 

“I guess it just came out naturally. Sir.” She licks up the froth on your cock.

“I don’t mind if you say it.” You circle her asshole with your finger and taste the lube. Sugary but you can’t think of the flavor. Not that you can think of much of anything.

“Only if you call me ma’am when it’s my turn.”

“Deal.”

“Thank you sir.”

She keeps your cock snug in her mouth. Browse your phone and decide to get some Jjamppong delivered, perfect for the cold.

“Gahyeon? Babe?”

Was she really? Incredible. She manages to doze off with a cock filling her mouth. That’s new. For all the times you’ve fallen asleep during tantric sex, it’s always been inside her pussy or asshole. How she incessantly drools while her head wriggles nearly makes you unload on her unconscious tongue but you hold it in, allowing only a few spurts to leak.

Unfortunately, you have to wake her up when you get the order from the door. You have to get some final work done but she eats dinner, sitting your dick. Your laptop is on her lap while you rest your chin on her neck. Tickled, Gahyeon giggles in between slurps of noodles. The lack of movement agonizes both of you but it keeps you focused. You could spend all day fucking each other; in fact, you have.

The winter sunset lights your room the colors of candy like artificial strawberry and sweet tangerines, though snow still storms down to desaturate the world. You’ve had enough productivity for one day. Gahyeon shares the soup with you, but after she sets the bowl down, she twists her hips in a quick motion and you explode without warning. Five or six? It’s only a curt removal of your soul from existence but you puff and pant anyway.

“Fuck, I’m sorry sir. I should’ve warned you.”

“It’s fine.”

“But I can’t let this cum go to waste, can I?” At some point during your orgasm, she withdrew herself and now she’s licking up and down your soft shaft to clean any cum that you didn’t shoot inside. “Damn, I just wanted to get my vibrator.”

“It’s okay Gahyeon, get it. I. I definitely need some time to recover.”

“I guess even you have your limits.” She grins, then leaves for the bedroom.

Gahyeon returns and a loop of a pink wire sticks out from her pussy. Now the only thing she wears is that thin strip of a top. Take off your shirt to match. “The egg this time?” you say.

She nods. “Here’s the remote.”

Get your Switch and play some Smash while she washes some dishes and organizes clothes that she’s brought over. Apparently you mix your clothes with hers often, which shouldn’t be such an issue considering how different your sizes are. Every time you lose a game, you turn on the vibrator for a few moments. You get a kick out of watching her buckle. If only you could do this while she performs live.

“You wanna head to the bedroom? It’s getting dark, uff.” A quick press of the highest setting and Gahyeon’s knees knock together. It never takes too long for you to get hard again when you see her put all effort into standing. “You- Ahhh, fuck, I love you. I hate you.”

Maybe it’s because you have yet to turn the intensity down. With a full hand on her ass and the other on her back, carry her to the bedroom but her wriggling hobbles you. An early left turn.

“I already showered earlier. Sir, please I’m getting so sensitive.” Gahyeon rotates through many different faces, from agony to excitement to pleasure. 

Set her down in the hot tub and her crop-top lands in the laundry basket perfectly.

“Nice throw.” Gahyeon high-fives you. She almost distracted you with that great throw. “Tsk. You’re still keeping that vibrator in you. Just what you deserve for making me cum when I didn’t even finish eating.”

Your apartment is relatively small for its price, but there were certainly no expenses spared for the bathroom. Both your shower and your jacuzzi could fit three people. It has the biggest panes of glass and provides no privacy but you love the ambiance especially during a night shower. Gahyeon’s moaning goes from having a quick rhythm to intense, long held notes. She’s playing with herself in any way that she can to make her climax, manically stroking her clit while she teases pulling the metallic plug in her ass. Turn off the lights and cocoa candles fill the scent of the room. Finally, remove her vibrator and buttplug.

“So fucking yummy. Come here,” you say, holding her neck carefully as you get in the tub to crash your lips into hers. After what feels like hours of kissing even if it is only a few minutes, you lay down in the hot-tub and Gahyeon straddles your thighs. 

“So which is going to be?” She glances next to the sink. ”Guess the lube isn’t for my pussy. Wait, why’d you turn on the water? It’s gonna wash away the lube. Woah, isn’t it my turn-” 

When you pull her groin up to your face, extra force on her clit shuts her up and nearly instantly drives her to orgasm. Gahyeon always grabs your hair and locks her legs together when you make her cum with your tongue but especially after all the stimulation of the vibrator, you have difficulty breathing. It’s worth it. She whimpers as your lips work relentlessly on her pussy but you settle down after a while. Hot jets of water blast on your back along with her legs. Gahyeon continues riding your face while she talks about her performance. Apparently the snow had a lot of the production people hold up. She brings a dewfall and you could taste her syrup forever but your cock aches once again. Maybe it’s asking you to chill out and that it needs a break, but if that were true, it wouldn’t be as hard as ever. 

“I’ve had enough of your pussy today,” you say.

“Really sir? Didn’t know that was possible.” Gahyeon needs no directions, your tongue licking up her body as your hands pull her last garment away.

“Siri, play relaxing radio. I’m staying in your ass until I cum.”

The middle of an R&B chorus plays. You get up to take the lube and Gahyeon drains the tub until only a little water remains. Her fingers wander and she vigorously rubs her clit while a curious thumb circles her asshole. Take a glob of the vanilla flavored lube and spread it on your fingers. Gahyeon sucks on your index, which goes straight to her asshole. Its wetness helps the tight ring expand slowly around it and the familiar pucker on your finger excites you. Get underneath her so that she’s laying on top of you while you sit back against the tub.

“God. I’m never getting used to how big you are.”

There it is. The tip of your cock vanishes into her tight asshole and you try to hold in a high whine, though Gahyeon lets out plenty of squeals as lube makes the entrance slick, squishy noises. Let her ass sink in with only her weight and it wraps down your shaft inch by throbbing inch. At last. She’s all the way down. If only you could see her face, but the position is comfortable and you get the pleasure of sucking on her neck while playing with her tits from behind.

The glow from the moon finds an angle into your room, mixing candle flame yellows with its white. Fierce winds push the falling snow outside of your window sideways. You’re warm nonetheless.

Midnight, the radio says as a new host talks about the inclement weather, but it’s not enough to keep you from kissing up and down Gahyeon’s back. Play with her nipples and the miniscule action not only gets them hard, but makes her ass’s folds react and roll to the pleasure. The breeze blows, a more important sound manages to distract you.

“Sir, do you hear that?” Gahyeon says.

“Yeah!” You hum along to the melody of Jazz Bar. “Hey, that’s you singing.”

“It’s not even one of our title tracks. I have to tell the members.” 

Gahyeon almost gets up from her but her head turns and shakes, realizing your thickness twitching as she almost fully unsheathes her ass. “Fuck.”

“Hold on. What’d I tell you?”

“Oh shit. Sorry. Sir. I can tell them later.”

“You know what. Just for that.” Pick her up, holding her thighs carefully to keep your cock in her asshole. The position is awkward, but you manage to lay her down prone without withdrawing your erection. 

“God, I love the way your cock hits.” All agreements and contracts are lost when you look at how the fat and muscle collects in Gahyeon’s full ass. A single thrust in and you can see the weight of the smack of your groin on her cheeks, so you endeavor to learn more about physics, even during the snow day. Slam into her and as you go in and out, Gahyeon yells and swears louder and louder, threatening to let all the neighbors know. No, of course they already know. It makes your eye contact with them hilariously awkward and it makes Gahyeon’s mask and disguise even more necessary.

“What a bad girl,” you say with a powerful shove.  ”Can’t even be a good cockwarmer, god.” Plunge and dive, your cock tries its best to widen her asshole but no matter what, it strangles your shaft taut. “Your butthole is just too. Fucking. Tempting.”

“Yes! Yes! Sir please, I’m going to- I’m just about to. Fuck. Shit I was so close.”

Chuckle at seeing her distraught face. “I’m getting some beer. Also, I want to finish in the bedroom. More comfy.”

She takes a minute to find her breathing but she gets up and grabs the lube. “Don’t have work tomorrow?” Gahyeon says.

“Lemme check.” When you both get to the bedroom, you check your phone. Nothing til noon. Perfect. Grab some beer in the minifridge in the corner of the room, while Gahyeon fixes her hair and lays down on the bed. She pats the mattress with both hands next to her. Missionary, it is then.

A hand to her chin. “Wait a second, didn’t you say you weren’t leaving my ass until you came. Hmm,” Gahyeon says. She gives a quick smooch and smiles naughtily. You could stare at her lips upturning all day. It’s her signature weapon.

Take a sip of the bottle of Cass. “What are you gonna do about it?” She digs her nails into your back to pull you and your cock finds the purchase of her asshole anew. In between thrusting motions, you take bigger swigs of the beer and offer some to her. She spills a bit on her tits and you lick it up. Suck on her tits as she pounds her ass into your erection. 

“Stretch me out, fuck me harder. Harder, sir!”

“God, mmmm, ugh., ugh.” Can’t speak much anymore.  Both of you love dirty talk, Gahyeon especially knows how to whisper to tickle your ear but she also knows how to scream to get your instinctive side out. You hold her neck as you hold the bottle, careful and secure. Her tightly drawn anus responds the same as her pussy when you choke her, as they each try frenetically to wring you dry. However, the friction of her ass, even with all the lube, arouses your cock harder somehow. This is the life you chose, in a way the most tiring work you could ever imagine.

Gahyeon grabs tighter and her whole body ripples at the force that you both put in. Not a single qualm about your lifestyle. Any pretense of space between you two is gone as every inch of your skin slaps against each other. A final gulp from the bottle.

“Right there, right there, yes sir, baby. Cum with me!”

There isn’t much of you left but it’s still a flash freeze, a blizzard and pouring hail slamming into you when you cum, and she shakes doubly so in her orgasm as she’s had double yours today. The throb of your shaft doesn’t match the squeezing rhythm of her sphincter and inner walls which makes your cock spurt with more intensity than you could think possible, even bearing your stamina. Your sticky semen replaces the slippery lube inside her ass but you didn’t need its stickiness to slow your rhythm as your dick gets softer. You let minutes pass anyway to feel her muscles react to the load sloshing around and so that it’s not as difficult to extricate your softness from her greedy butthole, though it takes a slow removal anyway with its tightness. Both of you limp over and Gahyeon is fast asleep, but you scramble to return the buttplug and keep the cum inside.

“Keep warm! It’s going to be like this all winter. Tomorrow, it’ll be a high of -5 and a low of -20 and that snow will keep piling up-” Turn down the volume so that it’s not muted but soft enough that you can hear the wind howl past your windows just as loud. Nothing amazes you more than the tiny idol asleep and cutely snoring while her pussy throttles your shaft. Looking at Gahyeon’s ass and feeling her shake it as you try to fall asleep, something tells you it’ll be the warmest winter you’ll ever have.

Fermata ft. Chuu

Sequel to Dal Segno.

You write to keep your concentration and disconnect you from your ever-changing concerns. For all your ideas, the true crux of putting a piece together is actually making something concrete. The self-control you require to be consistent, and consistently creative, is what makes music so hard to stay focused on. This album must be finished. This year. No written promises but you have to do right by her after all you've invested. You fucked Jiwoo in the mouth yesterday. Real right of you to do.

“Coming!” Jiwoo must be far from the front door with how her holler resounds the apartment. Where do you put your hands? Pockets are natural though they don't feel like it. Many but not enough footsteps grow in loudness but you expect a stampede anyway when the door opens. Instead, only Yerim and Sooyoung manifest in the opening hallway.

“Hello, oppa! Jiwoo unnie is just… Umm. Taking care of business.” Yerim playfully elbows you when she pulls you in but you stop her to take your shoes off. Sooyoung sends a brusque wave your way and not much else as she collects assorted effects and clothing around the living room. There isn’t nearly as much noise as you expect.

Look around in confusion. “Did I miss something? Is today a holiday?”

“Jiwoo isn’t the only one who’s got schedules, PD-nim,” Sooyoung says.

Yerim turns around. She also has some nicer pants on, and a loose-fitting red top. “Unnie, you’re just visiting your family.”

“And that’s a schedule.”

“Well oppa, I have a CF to film so, ha!” Yerim raises a hand, victorious she just won the conversation. High five. She’s satisfied but Sooyoung gives no regard, clearly looking for something.

“What about the other girls?” you ask.

“I’m not a manager. Just count yourself lucky the dorm is so empty.” Yerim says.

“Damn, we can even record some demos too. Good thing I brought the mic. Hold on, before you guys go, wanna listen to some of our songs?” you say.

“Finally!” Yerim says.

“Just play it out loud, I can hear it,” Sooyoung says. You offer your help with whatever she’s searching for though she brushes you off and insists she can do it herself.

Yerim brings out a bluetooth speaker from underneath the living room couch and coughs because of whatever dust she just procured.

Pull out your Macbook from your backpack and connect it to the speaker. You think about which track to play and pick the one that shows off Jiwoo’s voice the best so far, Jiwoo - Deeper.

Yerim immediately gets into the beat, bobbing her head and dancing. However, when the chorus hits, her ears perk up and she starts cheering at the notes that Jiwoo belts. Sooyoung also turns an ear towards the speaker in curiosity.

A vacuum interrupts the music. Jiwoo swoops in with the machine, scurrying her shapely legs with no heed to their bareness. She pushes up her fake circle glasses and says over the commotion, “I knew you needed this! Oppa, hello!”

“I’m trying to listen to the music here!” Yerim covers her ears.

Sooyoung looks down and pauses at the edge of the couch. “Oh hey, there’s my bracelet! Really nice music by the way!”

“Wow, you guys are so kind.” Jiwoo says, her voice piercing the screaming vacuum without effort. She turns it off realizing she's the only one can really do so. “You still like the music now?”

“No unnie, I mean it,” Yerim says.

“Why are you wearing just that big tracksuit sweater? Do you even have shorts on?” you interrupt the gushing. Jiwoo turns around and hugs herself as if she dropped a towel, even though her immodesty comes from her lower body. Good thing no one notices her sweater ride up for a moment to reveal white panties. Sooyoung looks at you confused while Yerim smirks to match yours. She wasn't even looking at Jiwoo but she could probably tell from your face. Damn, she’s too perceptive.

“Well, it looks like that’s my cue to go,” Yerim says.

“I’m so confused,” Sooyoung looks back and forth at you and the other two girls in the room. You shrug your shoulders, pretending to take solace in her ignorance of the situation.

“Come on unnie, we’ll go together. I’ll go out to get money and you go out to get your kisses from mommy and daddy.” Somehow that didn’t sound too offensive but Sooyoung punches Yerim anyway.

“Oppa, can you finish vacuuming for me?” You’re about to make a retort about labor laws but Jiwoo runs to the bathroom and immediately you hear Jiwoo practicing melodic runs. They’re definitely not the ones you taught her, unless moaning was part of the routine.

“So she has to get her vocal cords ready too huh? I’m suuure that’s all she’s doing in there.” Yerim keeps poking at your bicep with two fingers. You turn on the vacuum to try and hide her overt naughtiness but Yerim’s devilish look tells enough. For full measure, she winks at you as she drags Sooyoung out of the dorm. Mental note to deal with that can of worms for later.

Head to the big bedroom where Jiwoo’s still doing vocal exercises. Three bunk beds line the walls while pillows, blankets and bean bags litter the floor. As the centrepiece of the room sits a simple wooden table, short enough to rest on the polystyrene filled chairs while adequately comfortable to get work done. She stands proud on top of the table as she practices the actual runs you tell her to do.

“Oh, oh, ohhhhh, oh, ohhhhppa!” She jumps down from the table and nearly tackles you when she locks her legs around you in a hug. Take a second to balance yourself while holding her as tightly as possible.

“Jiwoo, you’re eager today.”

“Of course I am, oppa. I’m soooo excited to. Record. Of course.”

“Well if you are, please get off of me.”

“Oppa! You don’t like my hugs?” she says nearly falsetto. Her aegyo throws you off, so you throw her off. Onto a bean bag. “I guess that’s a no.”

“No, not no. I mean. We have to be focused, Jiwoo. Is there any rope or anything?”

“You just said we have to be focused, oppa.”

You wave your hands in denial. “What’d I say about acoustics?”

“Ohhh, like the foam at the studio?”

“Exactly. Especially with how big this room is, we’re going to have to need all the insulation we can get. Ahhh!” Your random shout rumbles throughout the room and startles the relaxing Jiwoo. 

She stands up. “I get it! Geez.”

“Oh yeah, I need a pop filter too.”

“A thin fabric right? For all the p-p-plosives.”

“Mhm.”

Inevitable. Jiwoo takes off her panties and you shake your head laughing in disapproval.

“Come on now, that’s just not sanitary,” you say.

“So you’re saying you don’t want them?”

“No, I’ll just confiscate them for your stupidity. Tsk. Find some pantyhose.“ She gets up. “Ahem. Not used.”

The panties have a tiny wet spot, and your nose takes a quick bask in its musk but Jiwoo immediately catches you.

“And I’m too horny,” Jiwoo says with characteristic sass. You put it in your pocket as she gets pantyhose from her drawer. After fashioning a stand for the pantyhose for her to sing into, you both get to work hanging up blankets from the bunk beds while clotheslines become pillow-lines. A makeshift room within a room, still centered by the table but now surrounding you with cushioning cloth instead of acoustically reflective drywall.

Barely enough space for jumping jacks but you start doing them anyway and it flummoxes Jiwoo for a moment. You don’t need to tell her to join in. Sit down to play an instrumental from the laptop and she pauses the exercise before you motion for her to continue. 

“I need you with the right energy for the beat.”

“Yeah, I figured. Synthwave is really popular now, huh?” Her bouncing to the rhythm rides her hoodie up again but now her cute slit and bare legs are plain to see. Your tongue dries your lips. She catches her breath before stretching one last time. Keep it together. “So are we recording?” 

You nod. Take out the microphone and two pairs of in ear monitors for listening, and connect all the devices to the computer. After setting everything up, Jiwoo gets up and you hold the microphone and filter for her.

Click. “Aaand, recording.”

Click. “One more.”

But that’s it. Two takes. You could not get a better sounding Jiwoo than that. Not a quick demo but the actual release vocal track, since even in such an imperfect recording environment, it sounds perfect to your ears. A little frustration since where was this Jiwoo in all the previous sessions? Maybe you’ll have to consider more visits for recording though you’re not sure if you could make another miracle happen to have everyone else out of the dorm at the same time.

“Jiwoo, that was a- Dammit, that was perfect,” you say.

“Of course, it was!” Not that there’s much room in the improvised recording studio but she ensures you feel even less of it when she gets closer. “Sooo. Wanna fuck my face?”

“That’s not the arrangement! You didn’t mess up.” 

“You definitely sound disappointed I did a good job,” Jiwoo says.

”Of course I’m not disappointed.” You sigh. Are we doing this again? A single flitter of her brows. “I’m not going to fuck your face this time, okay? You have to be able to take that dick all the way down yourself.”

No protests. She lowers her head once in gratitude. 

"Thank you for the meal!" Jiwoo says as she shows off her pearly whites in a big smile. She turns her head up to look at you lovingly as she cups your balls with her hands before she lowers her head again for a precursory smooch onto your cock. This time, she gives the same slow care to your shaft with her lips as she is to your balls with her hands. As if she wasn't going to ruin her makeup.

Restraining your panting and cries of ecstasy is arduous enough with Jiwoo engulfing you when-

“Kim Jiwoo!” Sooyoung’s voice reverberates from maybe the living room or the foyer.

Jiwoo side-eyes the study door. Her head does not stop its seesaw. Is this girl so entranced by your cock that she feels not an ounce of dread?

Sooyoung yells, “I forgot something! Just wanted to let you know I’ll be back later with dinner!”

“Okay! Thanks! We’re busy,” you choke on your words as Jiwoo does the same on your dick, “Uh, listening to the mix!”

Sooyoung, still shouting, but attempting to say lower, “Sorry! I’ll go now. Bye.”

Wait a few minutes before getting up, and of course Jiwoo’s lips are still wrapped around your cock as you walk towards the door. Dorm is empty. She must have performed magic taking off her shirt and underwear to play with herself because you can't remember if she's ever stopped sucking you off. The kinematics don't add up. More likely, you’re slightly faint from her perilous suction, making left and right difficult directions to parse from each other.

"Fuck you're already so good, Jiwoo." 

Pull her up and carry her to deposit onto the bottom bunk of the bed by the window.  She ends up belly diving onto the mattress’ surface and her buttcheeks recoil just the slightest bit.  Jiwoo notices and starts giggling when she plays around with her perky cheeks.

"You like my ass, oppa?" Nod.

“I said I wasn’t going to fuck your face today. Fuck. Maybe I’ll fuck you there instead,” you say in a low bass.

Her eyes turn into full moons at your suggestion. You laugh. 

”Naughty fucking girl. Next time, when you’re a good girl. Such a fun ass though.” Follow through with the compliment as you line up your cock to the prone girl’s mouth, arcing down to fondle her round buns. It's a miracle and also a bit embarrassing that your erection is soft after all that. Best guess is that it's had so much stimulation, but all of the masturbation after recalling your previous facefuck probably didn't help. Jiwoo takes her index and middle digits and raps them on your cock to a freeform beat.

“Aww oppa, your cock. I need to make it big and meaty again,” Jiwoo whines and her pout confesses that she's a little disheartened, however her eyes are more determined.

“Tell me all the ways you want me to use you." She raises her vivid eyebrows and lists her head a little forward. “Okay, miss ‘I won’t let go of this cock even when there’s others in the house’. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time. Just relax and go on.”

“Hmph. Fine. Well, your dick is right here, sooo after I lick it up,” which she begins doing by inspecting your shaft with intent, before finding a spot she deems scrumptious enough to lap up. “You fuck this dirty mouth pussy clean while I play myself on my tummy just like this.”

Jiwoo sounds ridiculous talking with her tongue out but at the same time, her cheeky lisp fortifies your cock. Her hands wander underneath herself and she reels back, titillated by her own words. You watch the small woman fondling herself with both hands while your erection at half-mast presses against her face in suspense.

“I could flip myself over and I’d never let go of oppa’s cock, I promise, then you could see your bulge in my fuck hole.”

How could this girl talk so filthy? Her face doesn’t even look like it should utter the word darn, yet here she is giving a study of her throat’s distension from your dick.

Jiwoo continues, one hand rubbing her clit fervently, “Then, maybe. Maybe oppa could get on top of me and pretty please eat my little pussy out while he shoves his cock into me?”

You couldn’t just stand idly by, though it wouldn’t be the worst with how her mouth vibrates your cock harder as her tone gets more gravelly and hungry. When you reach down, you see her wet slit preoccupied with two fingers from her other hand. It doesn’t stop you from slipping one in the increasingly creamy hole.

“Then oppa, if you still wanna at least?” her voice shrinks, but then returns in volume as she crescendos, “You keep your mouth on my slit as you lift up my legs and your silly slut is upside down and she’s choking on your cock and Jiwoo can’t breath and all the blood rushing to her head and you cum and Jiwoo doesn’t let any of spill out cuz Jiwoo is a good slut for oppa, and oppa, oppa, please!”

You join in stroking and rubbing her squishy soaking pussy lips and she looks up from her haze.

“Kim Jiwoo.” Your voice is stern and it seems more than any physical stimulation that your deep beckon is what sends her past the edge. Her pussy swallows whole your finger still inside her, wetness replacing all sensation that the digit once had. She accompanies her whole body’s spasms with loud visceral moans. It takes more than a mere moment to close her eyes and restore her breathing. The bedroom smells a little salty from all the fluids leaking her mouth and slit.

“How much porn have you been watching?” you say.

“As much as you oppa.”

Swallow down a bit of spit. “Huh?”

“Remember our very first recording session, you forgot your laptop and I returned it to you?”

“Fuck,” you say. Jiwoo stretches and lay spread-eagle on the bed, a gooey strand connecting between her two thighs. She licks her fingers.

“You're lucky I found it. Oppa, it’s all your fault I’m like this. Plus all those fancams of me in the same folder. I wanted to confess sooner but I needed more opportunities to be with you.” She sucks her hand more earnestly.

“I didn’t think sucking dick counted as confessing.”

“Hey, I did say I like you. Did you already forget? Tsk. Typical boy.”

“Look at this dick.” You didn’t have to say that because she’s already drilling holes into it with her eyes. “Remember how I said I was basically recording for free? Make your own inferences.” The round shape of her mouth in understanding is perfect.  "Now, open wide."

"Yes! Mm..."

 It’s hard to say which position is your favorite.

Fucking her face is straightforward but you pay closer attention. You’re certainly not down that deep, as you can still feel her uvula recoil on your tip and react with thick gagged out spit. Nothing like your cum but she sucks and spits the liquid in and out anyway. She definitely enjoys playing around with fluids in her mouth.

Jiwoo pulls away when she upturns herself, as she coughs with whatever throat muscles you hit. Her head hanging upside down off the mattress would be the perfect perspective to see your cock’s imprint on her neck but she still can’t manage the depth. The angle certainly makes your pistoning easier as your balls slap against your nose in more forceful pushes, playing vulgar slapping noises that mix with her gagging.

Afterwards, you lean over and move her head to get the mattress’s support instead of dangling. Hunch down to her wetness and the taste of her nectar more than makes up for the difficulty of thrusting while on top of her. Already having difficulty breathing with a cock in her airways, you don’t want to crush her under your weight. Still, you spend the most time between her thighs, taking in the muskiness of her pussy and all that it releases. It explains Jiwoo’s long drawn breath through her nose if you have a similarly alluring scent. There’s also the possibility your length steals too much air from her wet, gagging mouth but in this position, it’s her choice to hold your shaft in her throat for that much time.

Pick her up by the ass and cup the top of Jiwoo’s cheeks. Well, now they’re the bottom as she’s upside down in this piledriver sixty-nine position, both of you sucking and licking as closely as possible. She’s definitely enjoying the scents and tastes. You could drop her on her head and she'd thank you if you kept your cock in her mouth. Maybe you heard her mumble something like “yummy”, but anything resembling consonants are far past the point of physiology and linguistics. If anything, holding Jiwoo upside down makes her look more like a used sex doll than the cute girl that she is. 

A whole lot of mess to clean up later. Cans of Febreeze, maybe some rags and a mop. New sheets, soaked with nearly every bodily fluid mouthfucking can provide. However, all that work pales to the pure torture you’ve put upon yourself to not cum.  It helps with how often you pull out of her mouth as for all her prodigal gagging, she also looks thankful when you give her moments to rest her jaw and lips. Somehow you're in control the entire time yet you have not an ounce of it, avoiding your inevitable fate. Finally, you can rest. Now you’re thankful you jerked off many times before this to last as long as you have. 

Of course, resting did mean you were on an office chair and she was on her knees, but still. It’s a break from all the exercise.

“You know oppa,” she says with a smile on her face.

“I was waiting for you to ask,” mumbling as she often does on your erection.

“Jiwoo-ah! Wear lip gloss.” How she manages to get that out so adorably with a cock in her mouth, you will never know.

“But I figured,” bobbing down, “I was sucking you off so sloppily,” and up, “It’d be such a waste of makeup.”

The girl made a point though you say, “I’d still like to see it one time. Alright? I don’t wanna have to ask either.”

“Okayyyy.” She says as she purrs on your dick. The little devil knows how weak you are when she talks with a full mouth. You still aren’t going to succumb this time. Pulling out of her mouth is as difficult as last time but you snap your head back and you snap your head away. 

"Nooo." A familiar cry. What if she didn't even like the taste of cum? No time for questions as your body falls apart in the clashing brass and woodwinds. The obnoxious dissonance making you pulse and pulse. You aim below her neck to allow the cum to drip down her collarbones and petite tits. Rub her nipples, sticky with your load and she lets out a little squeal when you tweak them.

"Pwetty pwease oppa. Your cumdump Chuu-ah really wants your cum." She puts her pointer on her swollen cheek. God, she's too much for one man but that’s the situation you put yourself in. 

Plop. 

Plop.

"Jiwoo, please. It's so sensitive," you whimper as she keeps sucking the tip.

"You get to do whatever you want oppa."

"Fuck.” Pull Jiwoo off of you. “Maybe I will."

You collect your load from her tits as an impressive volume drips down.

"Ahh," Jiwoo says but you push her down one last time with your unstained hand and your other uses a finger to penetrate her little pussy, providing it with the semen that she desperately wants.

"I hope this is good enough for now." Her squeaks in time with each finger on your sticky hand exploring her insides confirm that it is indeed.

A step closer and your rehardening cock finds her labia, small but inviting. She gasps and shudders as you tease her pussy lips in a familiar way. It’s just as sensitive for her as it is for you with how much she sweats and writhes from the shaft The friction of the pussyjob is unbearable and instead of juices dripping from within her, a heavy volume of watery liquid squirts out. 

“I’m so, I’m so sorry oppa.”

“It’s okay, Jiwoo.” You put the tip in. “Doesn’t that feel so good.”

“Yes! Thank you. Awwww,” She says when you pop it out. In another world, that tip pushes past and you ravage her. But at this point, you have standards to uphold.

“Be a good girl for me and you can have more, okay?” Give her a rainbow dildo to practice with.

"Oh I already have one, oppa. This looks like it fits better though. Well I guess worse considering how much bigger it is. Just like. Yours. Fuck."

Despite all her orgasms, she looks ready to masturbate yet another time.

"We can't just cum all day Jiwoo," you say. She sighs and nods in understanding.

“Where am I gonna hide this? It really stands out.”

“Just keep it inside you.” Her eyes light up. “No wait.”

Jiwoo giggles. “C’mon oppa, they should be back any time soon.”

You finish up some final touches in your recording. There’s definitely more hitches when it comes to dealing with vocal recordings in such an improvised setting but it’s certainly not as much of a problem as looking at any of the other members in the eyes as you stay for dinner.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

You tend to get in a rush when you procrastinate as much as you do. It’s her first album, there’s no reason to rush her first album. Besides, the strength of any artist’s work is in their sophomore album, since they’ve had forever to work on that first one and now people are expecting the second. In either case, you really have time, but you don’t let yourself feel that. Instead, mixing and recording, once a job you enjoyed doing, has turned into a series of stressors in your life.

Jiwoo’s in a rush too. Why is she in such a rush?

“Hello. Oppa. I. Uh. Heard you got into a fender bender.” Every word sounds laborious as she opens the door to the studio. You step out into the hallway then look left and right. Nothing out of place.

“Yeah, just some scratches. You okay, Jiwoo?”

Her lips tuck in when she walks forward even a step. “Yep, doing juust fine. We gonna get to recording or what?”

“I mean if you say so.”

Each step towards the booth has her hitch her breath just a little, but she looks focused as ever so you waste no time and hit record. Should you text another member and ask if anything's off about Jiwoo today? Her singing is fine, maybe a little more vocal fry in her voice than usual, but it fits the sultry ballad.

You text Chaewon as Jiwoo keeps trying out different intonations for the pre-chorus.

Chaewon: "she was all flirty and weird today"

You: "lmao aight, tell something idk"

"yeah yeah, but this is different" 

"different how? she's always like that"

Jiwoo sees you typing and stops her singing to ask if anything's wrong. You shake your head and wave your free hand, gesturing for her to continue.

"i guess less wordy and more touchy today? good luck, lmk if you figure it out"

"i will. see ya later" 

Curious. You set your phone down and inspect Jiwoo's eyes and her crinkled nose. Hmm. 

A few hours later, you’re still recording. For how well the session at the dorm went, it feels like you’re back to square one with all of her mistakes today. She had such a good first takes too but her vocal quality is definitely receding, and in a different way than usual.

“I need to go to the restroom. I’ll be back,” you say into the microphone.

You go quickly to relieve yourself. A lot of water today. Needed it looking at Jiwoo in whatever weird state she's in. For some godforsaken reason you have an urge to take her mouth right now and completely ruin her. This album is never coming out.

Slowly creak the door to the studio open. No need for surprise anymore. Jiwoo pulls out a dildo from her sobbing vagina in the vocal booth and drags it up her body. Her eyes are closed, her focus clearly on the sensation of the dildo finally removed for her. She really went through with your suggestion. Must've been in there for a while considering Chaewon noticed something off earlier today. The dildo meets Jiwoo's lips, both wet from her desire and she shoves it in as deep as she can in the first try. 

Walk towards the Macbook and notice that it's recording. Shit, how much space did you have left on it? Hopefully, not going to have to clean it up later.

Finally, her eyes open and she smiles looking at you while she touches herself with one hand and deepthroats herself with the other using the toy you gave her.  She pauses her masturbation for a moment, tapping her ear. A new audio clip in Ableton, so put on your headphones.

“Come here oppa. I did a bad job today, didn’t I?”

The only words she needs for you to drop everything and walk into the booth. 

“You did,” you say as you unbuckle.

In a single stroke, she swallows your cock, matching the reinsertion of the dildo into her pussy. Jiwoo makes a tight vacuum seal with her luscious lips and shows off how well she manages her breath. Air squeezes through in her nose as you rarely unfastened yourself from her suction, and as she rarely allowed you to. Her lips are a good cock ring, her mouth a fleshlight. At the very least, this gave you much patience with her recording, knowing you were allowed to use your frustrations to turn the talented young lady into an object to use.

It’s incredible how little she has to touch herself to achieve orgasm when your cock is in her mouth. To be fair, keeping the dildo as long as she has inside of her must be a feat of its own.

“Jiwoo. Did you have this in you all day? I bet you’d prefer it were the real thing, huh?”

“Mmmhm. Mmmm!" She convulses at once. The toy squeezes in and out of her while she moans and spills saliva all over your cock. “Fuck, I wanted to cum all day but I had to wait. It’s your turn now, right?”

Jiwoo pulls out the soaked dildo and with her little fingers teases the skin of your dick before maintaining a tight grip. Her hand’s perfect rhythm and all the sucking she’s done so far today gets you right there and over the edge as quickly as she did. You unload all over the colorful sex toy and Jiwoo doesn’t let you have time to think as she puts the cum-covered toy back inside her.

You suck in some air. ”Who said you could have that cum? Lie down on the couch.” No pretense. Is there love between you two? Pull down her spotted top before mounting her modest but perky tits. It’s been barely a minute yet you’re already ready and solid once again. She tries to lean her head forward to retrieve her oral punishment-

“Thank you!”

Reward. Now that you think about it, maybe this isn’t working. The supine girl beneath you flitters her lashes, curious as to why you haven’t yet thrust into her mouth.

“You know much I love to see you work for it. Go on.”

As your cock is standing upwards at attention, she struggles raising her head to match yours, gently poking her tongue out to lick the frenulum.

“Ahh. No fair! I can’t reach. Ppfh.” She spits on it in frustration. “Ppptt. Let me have it.”

Her tongue wiggles around fruitlessly. Spit on her face in retort and you both laugh looking at the mess you’ve made. Yet at last, after playing with her food for what feels like an eternity, Jiwoo manages to wrangle your head with her tongue, guiding it to her eager lips.

“Now I better not feel that barrier, okay? Track 1.” And slowly force your way into her throat. You feigned frustration with her inability to fully take you down, but this was heaven. Regardless, stopped by her cursed reflex, you say: 

“Not good enough.” You’d almost feel bad about this.

“Again.” If it didn’t feel so good.

“One more.” Another submersion into her sopping mouth, the friction of her soft lips and tongue opposes all the lubricating slop from her throat. 

Unsheathe. “Oppa, oppa wait. Let me get something. You’ll like it.” You concede, getting off of her, and she pulls from her purse bright red lip gloss. “Watch me stain your cock!”

In a rush, Jiwoo vandalizes her lips red. Her makeup artist would be embarrassed. Of course, that makeup artist would be outright scandalized if they could see the precious idol with her back hunched over the arm of the couch, her upside down face inviting you.

You walk up and give her a good view of your balls. Tickle her neck and she leans forward to plant a pure kiss. On your cock head. “You know we haven’t kissed once yet? You haven’t even said anything about how you feel about me!”

“Neither did you.” Move your hands from Jiwoo’s neck to her bare chest and play with her stiffening nipples.

“Well, let me show you.” She plants another smooch on your shaft. And another. Yet another, until it’s turned into a full-on makeout session with your penis. The upended Jiwoo has to twist herself to leave the entirety of your flesh marked with lipstick stains. However, her best work is her french kiss where takes your dick in and plays around with her tongue, as if the mindless beast could kiss back. She leans her head back out one more time to receive you.

A sharp push and her tiny tits respond with the subtlest jiggle. 

All but an inch of your shaft covered red. “I’m so close,” she pouts.

“Well, so am I.” You keep thrusting and feel your orgasm get closer. You’re on the edge.

“Mwah.” Her lips’ release leaves your blank head even emptier.  “Mwah mwah, mwah.” She fixes her top back and wipes around her lips.

She takes wet wipes then a mask from her purse while you stand dumbfounded. There are four walls in the room. Wires spill from your laptop. One, two, three, four. You are one beat away from orgasm.

Her voice snaps your focus back. “Oppa, that was a good recording session, but you know. Ha Rin unnie has to pick me up. Bye!” Jiwoo scampers away, wiping at her face.

You might actually explode next time, in more ways than one. Guess you deserve this one though.

Head of the Company ft. SinB, YooA, Eunbi, Ryujin

The couch’s fabric is adequate if not a little dusty so you wipe it with your shirt. That's a familiar lightbulb on that shelf—you'd probably need it later. Your breathing works. Occasionally. Not much else in the room can ground you back to reality. Some force and you bite your lip, losing your grip on the world once again.

It's understandable. If all you had were the blonde and brunette kneeling in front of you, you'd already be at your life's apex. The two women have the same name, similar hairstyles, and identical dutiful licks up and down your shaft. Their lips meet as they both reach the top of your shaft, and their sloppy and prolonged kiss that sandwiches your cock's tip already teases a drop from it. Must've been sweet since Eunbi and SinB press their lips harder together on your dick when they taste it. 

If that weren't enough, two others diligently work to pleasure you. Ryujin sits against the couch slouching and twisting her neck at awkward angles beneath the two kneeling idols to suck on your balls. However, for all that stimulation, the only thing you can think about is YooA’s full lips on yours. Her tongue delves into your mouth which makes your heart race but the avarice within you wishes her pillows were on your cock’s head instead. Eunbi breaks the kiss to lap up the mess of spittle on your shaft, and SinB takes on the job of nurturing your tip as her stance over the other girls kneeling allows it. YooA mirrors Ryujin's ministrations as they both suck and make popping noises at all the sensitive areas of your body.

“Fuck.” The longest word you can utter. Your head whips around with every unexpected sensation. Suit jackets with shiny frills scatter the floor while boots and shoes lie in wait by the door. Your red shirt is gone and forgotten, while jeans and boxers wrap around your ankles. 

No worldly explanation exists for their combined efforts. Maybe you saved an entire country's population in a previous life. You’re not much of a boss otherwise. A random KBS lighting assistant like you usually wouldn't be pulled into a random storage room to be blown by four beautiful idols. You stood by the door, taking a breather as you finished putting away wires, when SinB appeared from around the corner.

"Hello? Oh, SinB! What are you doing here?" you said. SinB eyed you up and down then walked up next to you and opened the door.

"Follow me." SinB took your hand and before you could question, she shoved you onto the couch in the center of the room and pulled out her phone. Click. Your eyes probably looked absurdly wide in that picture. Soon after, the others entered the room one by one. You inhaled a bit of dust from the neglect of the room’s existence. 

"Sooo." Just like anyone else would be, you felt awkward. "Uhhh."

All four of them approached you with vexing intent and your first instinct was to close your eyes. Maybe the thought was that they would attack you. Absurd, but the truth was even more absurd. Four lips peppered your body while their hands started pulling off your clothes. You ripped your eyes back open quickly. Your breath and heartbeats went from idle to Autobahn. Thankful for the gift of sight as you admired the bodies of the women removing their jackets, but you were unsure if your gift is deceiving you. Even when they had black crop-tops and tight pants on, you could tell they were all in perfect shape. People stumbled finding their place—Ryujin was particularly forceful removing your pants underneath—but only moments later, they coordinated flawlessly in their roles to drain you dry.

You're trapped trying to find an answer for the past so you ask in the present. "Why?" Eunbi giggles as she plays with a bubble of spit on your erection and YooA puts a finger on your lips. She sucks that finger, her eyes big and fixed on yours, before returning to exploring your mouth.

Maybe in your naughtiest fantasies you imagined SinB's skillful lips twisting on your cockhead but never in any could you think of Ryujin’s utter dedication in suckling your balls, fully replacing her confident swagger. Eunbi and YooA drag their tongues, in different places. The leader slobbers along the sides of your shaft and spills saliva all over the youngest of the four members though Ryujin pays no mind. YooA licks your neck and collarbone, threatening to place obvious marks with her plump lips though she returns to draw your breath straight into her lungs.

"Oppa, is it okay if I- mmhhh. Fuck, I don’t care," YooA mumbles into your mouth, enjoying the neediness of the kiss too much and you take in the sweet floral undertones of her perfume. Her taste would be sweet as well if she didn’t salivate so much. Despite being the eldest of the group, she acts the youngest as she flutters her eyelashes and squeaks like a little mouse. Scant warning when she attacks back to your neck, sucking hard then letting go with hot and heavy breaths. She could have personally branded her name on your bare flesh for the same effect. You moan with how she marks you and your volume would be an issue if the entire room weren't filled with sloppy sounds, the sound of spit and slurping with the chords of differently pitched laments, squeals and half words of exclamation. 

SinB finds her tongue underneath your glans flicks at the sensitive area. "Oppa? He doesn't look a day older than our maknae." She’s right.

Ryujin’s deepest voice maintains a steady hum, vibrating your balls and coaxing them ready to cum at any time. You hate her, as she would be responsible for making you release early and fall from heaven at once with her mouth’s thorough coddling of your testicles. Then again, she's also the one you’ve thought of most recently in your sinful imagination so you can’t be mad.

"I don't know," Ryujin garbles with testes in her wet cavern, "Daddy suits his big dick so well though."

Eunbi pats Ryujin’s head, smooches the side of your erection, then wraps her fingers as she slides expertly on your length. "Just keep those balls in your mouth, little slut."

“Mmmm, but Ryujin loves talking like a dirty girl for Daddy.”

She’s even dirtier than you imagine, considering how she enjoys the amount of spit that SinB splatters into her mouth and how she doesn’t let a drop fall to the floor.

Your hands have been lifeless at your side the entire time, as you're a slave to the experience before you. Grab and slap Eunbi's plentiful tits through her black top and she hits higher registers in her squeals. Reaching down is difficult but worth it as it hastens her tongue’s twists around your length. YooA wants the same treatment to her breasts, or at least that's your interpretation of her pulling down her outfit. You provide a different service, tugging and teasing at her nipples and she's the first to remove her pants and white panties to touch herself as a result.

“You have such a pretty pussy,” you say.

YooA’s face fills with red. “Thank you oppa,” she whispers into your ear.

SinB kisses up your torso, tickling your sides, but you don't mind in the slightest when YooA takes her place. Even if a makeout session distracts Ryujin and Eunbi away from the lower part of your cock, this one girl is all you wanted. Clearly her lips are most suited in cushioning your dick cushily. Fluffy, wet, desperate, all on the red mouth of her doll-like face. You’re reluctant to take charge and thrust into her throat as she obviously cherishes the taste of your tip, as her fingers work hard to pleasure herself. YooA waits and moans on your cock head as she watches SinB take off her pants as well. Her long, lithe legs lead lineally to a bare pussy.

"No underwear, unnie?" Ryujin says, breaking her petting with Eunbi when she notices SinB’s gorgeous thighs. Not that Ryujin is lacking in that department, but she definitely knows pretty legs when she sees them.

"Of course not," SinB replies. She smirks and stands above YooA with her warmth hovering over your thigh while YooA's lips constrict your dick further. Using her longer reach, SinB bends over to kiss you as she lowers her slit onto your shaking leg. Your anxiety does good for once, as even though she has to take a moment to find her balance on your knee, she finds a cadence in the rubbing of her wetness against your quieting but still bouncing leg that makes her squeal while her lips smack yours. You discern tropical fruits when you whiff her but there are also hints of some masculine woody tones.

SinB's juices pooling on your thigh and YooA's clear desire emboldens you. Take bundles of your toy’s hair in her hand and pull her head down. Her throat tightens at the newfound member buried within while her dick-sucking lips crimp as they hit the base of your shaft.

At some point in your delirious facefuck, Eunbi and Ryujin moved from lying on the pile of clothes on the floor, to straddling each other on the couch. They switch back and forth with assertive kisses before Eunbi finds herself on top of Ryujin, undressing her stark and finding enjoyment in her thighs. A gasp at one hand within Ryujin's entrance, while Eunbi’s other hand fondles Ryujin’s now free breasts. The rhythm of her fingering matches your pace in using YooA's throat as a cumhole. Ryujin’s short yelps turn into screams as she pulsates her entire body and reaches for climax. She holds your hand. 

“That’s right baby girl. Cum for your unnie,” Eunbi says with a serious tone and the maknae complies, palpitating and grabbing your shoulders for stability while she rides through her orgasm.

“Yes! Fuck, I’m cumming, unnie, thank you, thank you!”

SinB’s fretting slickness on your leg becomes more salacious as Ryujin winds down her screaming and calls to a deity.

“Glk, glk.” Really appreciate YooA’s input right now with the constant gagging and slick noises from her throat.

A generous leader, Eunbi reaches over to your legs and uses her fingers to add to the friction of SinB’s pussy lips as she grinds back and forth. When SinB backs her ass up against you, she leaves traces of her sweet salty nectar and it finds Eunbi’s fingers inserting suddenly. SinB gasps. Her clit grazes with hunger against your skin and Eunbi’s deft twisting and handling leads SinB to roll her eyes back. Her thick thighs wobble against yours in her orgasm and even more cream gushes forth onto you.

The blonde notices your pupils go into your head in the same way as you near your end, so she takes YooA by the hair and unfastens her lips’ seal. Instead of finding a breath when she unsheathes herself from your erection, YooA basks in the musk that SinB leaves behind and licks up your thighs. She wants so badly to return to kiss your cock but Eunbi interjects.

"Tsk. You two are being so greedy. Si-ah and you, come here."

You both don't immediately answer, lost in lust as you enjoy the embrace of SinB and Ryujin on each of your arms while YooA continues her pecks on your lower body but Eunbi raises her voice and at once you each stand up.

“Ya!”

Surprised, SinB gets off you to continue stroking her soaked lips on the side, and Ryujin joins her. SinB strips down to nude and moves her kisses down Ryujin's body.  In a deep frenzy from SinB’s lowering licks, Ryujin lurches off the couch and her head hangs so perfectly off the side. Even with your hands up in submission to Eunbi’s call, it takes all discipline not to ignore the leader’s firmness and fuck Ryujin’s throat. Eunbi’s eyes. They tell a parable of a boy who did not live when he transgressed her.

You kneel without asking and YooA joins you.

“I’m sorry noona.” You glance at YooA.

“Me too, unnie, please. Don’t be mad.” YooA’s lips were made for pouting, and yet again you have to remind yourself that despite her cuteness, she is the oldest of the group.

Eunbi takes lengthy chains from the pile of outfits to tangle your hands behind your back, then after she pulls you back onto the couch like a toy, she uses another chain to fasten YooA’s neck to your thigh. Ryujin gets her head back onto the couch and her wanton face, covered by short hair sticking with sweat, lies right next to yours. Both of you have your feet on the arms of the couch. Looking into each other’s upturned eyes forever, you both grunt and squeal at the oral enjoyment you suddenly and simultaneously find. After shoving your cock down YooA’s throat with the bulge pressing against the restrictive chain, SinB and Eunbi stand up to spank the prone Ryujin.

“Does it hurt, baby girl?” SinB looks at YooA, making choking noises as ragged breaths come out of her nose. Her concern seems satiric, considering her hands wrap around YooA’s neck. YooA's legs quiver as SinB’s other hand aggressively rubs the bound woman’s clit.

Ryujin whimpers at the increasingly forceful spanks. “Hopefully not as much as this!” Eunbi says as she smacks firmly and leaves red all over the shapely ass and thighs of the youngest woman lying next to you. Sweat dominates Ryujin’s odor, but a hint of matcha and fresh rain intrigues your nose.

“Ryujin loves it, yes god, it hurts so good! Please!” You would join in the striking but you’ll take the consolation prize of YooA's throat. You must have leaked precum at this point, but it’s impossible to tell as YooA’s mouth on your cock would not even let it pulse with how taut it holds around. You take stock of the pile of bare bodies on the couch. Irony in a way that the most well endowed still has her crop-top on, the only garment adorning flesh, even if she is just as bottomless as the others. Eunbi smells like violets when she passes by, but her musky pheromones take over your nose, and the entire storage room. Not a single person would mistake the activities undertaken in here, at least for days.

“You like my scent huh? Perverted boy.”

“No, I was just- Fuck.” You place your lips on Ryujin’s before you say anything else stupid and the corner of Eunbi’s mouth upturns.

“You two are so cute. Come here Ryujin.”

Ryujin gets off the couch and the non-chained idols work to pull you so that your head rests on the couch arm. It’s a bit uncomfortable for you, so you can imagine the stress in YooA’s jaw and neck when she’s pulled along with her neck to your thigh, your cock in her throat. The maknae takes a place next to YooA and kisses her cheek. A tongue drags across your balls, and then it teases lower.

“Does Daddy mind if Ryujin… eats your ass?”

You don't take Ryujin as the type to rim a man or ask for permission if she did, so you stutter. “B-but are you sure? It’s not-”

“I’m sucking a stranger’s balls. Do I look like I care?“ You shake your head, a little surprised at Ryujin’s change in tone. “Do you?” Shake your head again. "Then lie down. Daddy." 

Ryujin's words are bond. While you follow her instruction, she refuses to let go of her hand's tight grip on your shaft the same way that YooA refuses to unshackle your erection from her mouth—not that she has much of a choice. Just as promised, her wet and nimble tongue circles around your previously untouched anus before diving in without a moment's indecision. You've tried stimulating your taint before but the pressure against your prostate is completely novel and has you sweat and almost cum immediately. Ryujin drenches your hole with her saliva as she sticks her tongue in and out to drive you crazy.

The homonymous idols find the opening to sit on you. It’s hard to compare their slits, as Eunbi has an alluring innie that looks perfect to stick your cock into, while SinB’s folds exude much creamy soppiness. They both knead their sensitive nubs into your bare skin, interrupting your breathing and slathering you with different nectars. SinB’s sap is stickier than Eunbi’s, which means it’s a veritable flood on your face when you feel Eunbi’s lavish thighs shake in pleasure. You have to close your eyes at all the liquid covering your face, but you pay no mind, sticking your tongue straight into her seam and savoring the uniquely umami flavor of her insides.

“Shit, you’re such a good boy. That didn’t,” a shiver in Eunbi’s voice, “Take any time at all.”

SinB bends over to smooch Eunbi and they form a triangle above you. “Ooh, he knows how to eat a girl out well too. Finally. You don’t know how many guys just want to hit it and quit.”

You’re proud and would extend an offer to taste SinB’s pussy if you didn’t have Eunbi’s thick ass in your face. She seems to be enjoying herself anyway, grinding on your pecs as her butt covers YooA and Ryujin’s faces. In a way, it's emasculating. Lying on the couch, legs spread in the air, Ryujin holding your cheeks apart, SinB's pussy rubbing on your torso, Eunbi on your face. The only other girl in such a submissive position finds as much satisfaction in her bind with your leg. She must empathize with you, as you realize you’re one and the same. A toy, an outlet, yet another dick, mouth and body to use. 

This is the summit of your life. Everything’s an avalanche from here.

SinB moves down, teasing her ass against your shaft. Eunbi also lowers herself onto your torso, taking pleasure in your strained breaths. Despite all the weight, you raise your hips to the best of your ability and pierce into YooA’s struggling passage. Her round and innocent face in ruins with spit smearing makeup and lipstick staining your shaft gives you strength. A final shove and you cum deep in YooA's throat. The exploratory fingers and tongue of Ryujin on your asshole, SinB’s asscheeks teasing your sensitive shaft, and Eunbi's weight restricting your oxygen, and the restriction now magnified by her hands around your throat. It all lends to the orgasm as your body throbs more intensely than meteors crashing into Earth. Every little sensation is a ripple effect, into a hurricane and earthquake of pulsing, rocking and shaking every girl on you. It shouldn't be a surprise you're still hard. The greatest Renaissance artists would never capture the splendor of the scene before you.

Eunbi unties YooA from your leg but your cocksucker stays just a little longer to partake in the taste of your erection and the final drops of your load before she takes deep breaths, smiling despite the tears in her eyes. YooA gulps down all the cum you shot down her gullet before lying on the floor to take a rest, with Ryujin taking too much extra space on the couch rimming you. 

"I told you oppa would still be hard," YooA says. 

Ryujin almost has a moment with her tongue away from your tightening asshole, her eyes curious at your outstanding hardness but she returns to keep you content with her licking as she holds your buttcheeks apart.

"Hey now, for every guy I’ve fucked that could only last thirty seconds, there’s another who gets right back up just staring at my thighs,” SinB says confidently while straddling your stomach.

"It might be our little slut here eating his cute asshole out too. Either way, it looks like we have a winner here.” Eunbi motions the other girls to back off and Ryujin looks notably upset.

“Nooo, Ryujin was having fun with Daddy’s butt.”

“Ahh, but see.” Eunbi holds your firm cock, and her rigid fingers pay no heed to the sensitivity it demonstrates twitching and writhing. “There we go. Good boy. Here's your reward."

Eunbi takes Ryujin’s place beneath you but has difficulty getting her chest around your cock. Ahh. Good thing you were a good boy. She pulls your legs off the couch and she stoops in front of you so that her tits line up with your cock as you slouch.

YooA looks tired with her eyes half lidded and she stretches out on the jackets lining the floor, with no attention to her disarray. Just a droplet of cum escapes her lazy and worn out mouth.

“Damn man, you really know how to wear some girls out,” SinB says as she walks around the room to stretch.

“Thanks,” you say. Eunbi looks down.

“Ptoo,” she splutters a mess onto your cock adding to the slippery fluids on her Eunbi's cleavage wrapped by her black top. Eunbi looks back up with mischief. She holds her sheathlike tits together, giving a different impression to the tongues, lips and throat that caressed it before. The curious woman keeps asking you in a soft voice, “You like that? You like the feeling of my big titties around your long dick?”

Her boobs wrap and twist with a unique friction on her creamy skin, well lubricated by saliva mixed with the remnants of your cum on your cock. What are you going to do other than nod and agree? Her grin shows satisfaction and she keeps talking.

“Are you a good boy? Do you love when I spit like this?”

You nod once again. 

“You wanna see them?”

And your nod is the most emphatic you can move your head. She finally takes off the last garment still worn by someone in the room and her tits jostle around exactly as you expect. Eunbi takes your ardent erection in between her beautiful tits. They bounce and mesmerize you, which is for the better as your reflexes would have you thrusting in between Eunbi's breasts and you’re sure she wants to be in charge of your erection and its next orgasm. 

Her low utterances are interrupted by a squeal. You can't see who's eating Eunbi out but you bet by her pitch, distinctly higher compared to you eating her out, that Ryujin is tonguefucking Eunbi's ass. You couldn’t account for SinB either but the pressure of Eunbi’s tits on your tense cock—only having just cum moments ago—and her tongue darting around your tip forces your eyes shut.

The loudness of Eunbi’s yelps must have woken up YooA at some point, her big eyes watching the girl behind Eunbi and confirming your thoughts. "Our maknae has such a dirty mouth."

"Maybe we should clean it with some cock," SinB giggles, returning from her inquisitive walk around the room. “Did you know they got these prop handcuffs from a sex shop?”

“I bet this pervert, fuck, love to know,” Eunbi says amidst drags of air, Ryujin’s must be particularly dug into Eunbi’s asshole. “Fuck baby girl, I want to cum again but. Shit. I like SinB’s idea.”

YooA gets up to help SinB pull Ryujin by her hair and Eunbi smirks in approval, willing to concede control to the surprisingly cute Ryujin when dimples like whiskers grow on her face as she smiles impishly. The blonde woman slaps Ryujin’s tender and meaty ass and joins in putting her hands in Ryujin's short light brown hair.

“Daddy! Ryujin doesn’t want air, okay? Just let, ghkk, guh-”

Without warning, they plunge her mouth straight down your girth. As she comes up for air, she coughs.

“Ah, ahem.” A viscous glob spills from her lips. “No, don’t stop, Ryujin loves choking on Daddy’s cock.”

You take some initiative and buck your hips up into her ravenous mouth. The thickness in her thighs wiggle as Eunbi holds her to skullfuck her against your erection. SinB and YooA return to the couch, the former fiddling with your sensitive balls while the latter plants kisses around your body as she is wont to do.

"I see why you really enjoyed this sack Ryujin. They're so full and fun to play with," SinB says while she draws circles with her other hand around the cute little buttons on Ryujin's jolting tits.

"I bet our good boy has so much seed still in there to taste," Eunbi chimes in with a voracious glint in her eyes.

"Oppa's cum is so yummy, that's why I swallowed it all," YooA says, her lips admiring the muscles in your arms.

Ryujin tries to say something but your cock fully restricts airflow and she gags for her attempt. It only makes you drill harder and harder. Your grunts speed up and deepen in reaction to the purchase of her throat. The imprint of your cock on her neck and the effort she puts in to keep her jaw as wide open as possible makes you uncharacteristically mewl.

"Aww, he's getting close. No, no, Ryujin, it's my turn, our little baby," Eunbi says.

Eunbi holds Ryujin back to assume shaft swallowing duty and Ryujin whines when she’s relegated back to licking, especially since Eunbi is so skilled in keeping your ample length within her cavern that Ryujin doesn’t have much cock to lick. At some point, SinB and YooA both crawled off the sofa, and now they keep themselves busy by each taking a testicle in their mouth. Your cock slips down Eunbi’s throat as smooth as butter, with only a minimal trail of saliva seeping down the side of your shaft as she takes her head back up to suck on your tip and let Ryujin have a moment of ruttish licking. 

SinB watches in awe of Eunbi's skills as she takes a break from your testicles, but YooA continues nursing them as she holds on to your legs and kisses Ryujin when the maknae is unable to lick your shaft when Eunbi takes you all the way down her throat.

Unlike with YooA or Ryujin, you don't dare move, allowing Eunbi to devour you at her own pace. She accelerates her bobbing yet her mouth noises are kept to a minimum, with only occasional sharp breaths from her nose. As much as you try to stay stationary, you have to match her rhythm and fuck her tight and wet throat just the same as the others. She puts her hands on your thighs but otherwise doesn't seem mad so you continue, you increase your pace and finally force some cute choking sounds from her throat. Eunbi feels when the pulsing in your core turns into pulses of your cock and she holds you down as you release your load with even more force than earlier.

Your throbbing subsides, but as you pull out, more strings of semen spurt from your slit, most likely from YooA’s diligent embrace of your sack with her ideal lips, and Ryujin and SinB rush to collect it on their face.

"I didn't get to throat his dick yet," SinB whines as she licks your sputtering erection. She looks straight at you. “Please, you have the biggest one I’ve ever seen, I need to try it once.”

"But Ryujin didn't swallow any of Daddy’s cum." Ryujin sticks her bottom lip out.

SinB takes her chance, being closer to your crotch but they soon fight for control of your cock with their mouth, each taking a single plunge before the other pulls them off. SinB certainly has more skill in gliding your cock down but Ryujin's needy eyes with her constant spittle is charming in its own way. Sadly, your cock is spent, and it slowly softens as pain wracks your face from the sensitivity.

“Dammit, you little slut,” SinB says.

“Oh, I’m the slut? This is probably the tenth dick you’ve sucked this week.” That seems more like the sass you expect from Ryujin. 

“Please, let’s settle down,” YooA implores as she sniffles, as cum trickles from your balls into her airways. 

"You're right Si-ah.” Eunbi has an odd lisp in her mouth, like it’s still full. “It is yummy, but our maknaes look so desperate for cum. Here. Ahhh." Eunbi sticks her tongue out and she shows off that there’s plenty of semen left since she didn’t swallow it all down. That explains it. A mother bird, she spits out the white goo. Unlike one, Eunbi lets it leak slowly from her lips and evenly coats their faces with semen to satisfy the two of them.

Ryujin and SinB kiss and make up, and make out, licking cum off of each other. Semen drips down SinB's thin nose onto her long neck, somehow reaching her even longer legs, while Ryujin doesn’t let a drop of it go to waste. It suits SinB more to be so laminated with your seed while the youngest swigs every dash of your load.

“Why would you waste Daddy’s cum?”

“Well, Daddy,” SinB saying it has a very different sultriness that you would need to investigate later, “obviously loves the way I look all messed up like this.”

It is true. Really, everyone looks like complete disarray, hair wet and sticking to each other, makeup utterly ruined.

They all clean each other, lapping up cum, spit and pussy fluids, and you fear and hope they could get horny enough again to find a way to force an orgasm out of your limp body.  YooA must really love necks the way she lightly pecks on Eunbi, though she’s more cautious not to leave a trace. You also want to join one of the two couples but they’re each so into their cleaning that you take the time to rest for a minute. Fortunately and not so, they all get dressed, looking nearly as flawless as they did onstage. It takes a while to get their hair and makeup back in some semblance of order.

“That was fun! I wanna see you again, Daddy!” Ryujin says. YooA pulls her outside and SinB waves as she walks away. She points to her pocket on her leg and makes a phone gesture with her hand. Have to remind yourself to check your pants later. The last member lingers and stares at you, moisturizing her lips with her tongue.

"You want more?" Eunbi says and you nod without hesitation. "Me too. Stay here like a good boy and I’ll be back. I’ll make sure no one comes in here."

You sit with your hands on your thighs, still naked looking around the room and wondering if you’re dreaming or in some kind of next generation virtual reality. Maybe eternal paradise? Eunbi comes back with some cloth she found in the room.

“Hands out.” You comply and she blindfolds you and ties you up. With your sight stolen, you cling to the scent of the panties she stuffs in your mouth. Definitely Eunbi’s musk. If this is the price for services rendered, then you still feel like you haven’t paid enough. Alas, nothing to do but rest and wander in your thoughts. No need for new dreams anymore.

Upper Floor Lower ft. Lia

The brass disk pendulates, never understanding the human curse of fatigue. Left then right. To and fro. Back, forth. Blame gravity for it. Your lofty vaulted ceiling accentuates the anachronistic clock to the left. Usually the right, but you turned your black sofa around to face the penthouse’s entrance for dramatic flair. 

Stare straight up, and the skylight allows the stars to stare back so your focus retreats to marble and expensive yet stale wood.  Many think you inherited the property since young money often bought houses of glass and lifeless concrete. You're past worry for the many. Rather, you worry for the one.

No. You don't. All the hubris is for naught if you show weakness.

Tick. Tick. The brass disk pendulates yet. A chime. Its brutally familiar melody evokes memories of running back to class. Up then down, up and down again, and you better be in your seat by the last note. However, this chime is twelve hours wrong, the sort of mistake they'd never allow in Westminster. You never bothered to fix the freestanding timepiece because you never slept at this time anyway. Not like there’s neighbors to complain.

Moisten your lips with a swill and your heart follows the second hand’s timing. A sizable sphere of ice loses its volume in your old fashioned, taking a while to disappear because of its surface area.

If only you had the same patience. Yours more resembles shredded ice with how your clunky dress shoes tap and wear the old floor down. Maybe Jisu is busy with other plans. Not that you’re losing any confidence but apart from being an idol, Seoul bustles in the midnight darkness, reeking of beer and barbecue which should invite her to more usual pleasures. Karaoke with friends, beautiful landscapes and vespertine views of hills overlooking the city. 

Instead, with a text from the concierge, you confirm the pleasure she chooses is more unconventional. You didn’t need the message though, CCTV is much better these days and never did the screen leave your scrutiny. White on white of the entrance walls, the columns that had no structural purpose, Jisu probably finds them garish too as she paces between them waiting for the elevator; not that architecture ever came up in your frequent calls.

The paused footage they see doesn’t alarm the condominium security crew, knowing this is yet another one of those Saturdays for the wealthiest resident in the building. A simple request, enthusiastically fulfilled with the time they get off. What they don’t know is that the access to the live feed is redirected to your laptop instead. 

Jisu walks delicately to the reception desk. The concierge nods at the masked woman with a knowing look as she may be the first idol he’s greeted, but she certainly wasn’t the first woman he’s sent to your suite. She would be the first one your age though. The first one you didn't meet at a bullshit business party, the first one you didn't have to seduce. The first you— 

Tick. Not even a minute late. No need to hold the same restlessness as her. Another sip and you let a sedative glow suffuse you before calling her when she enters the elevator.

“Hi.” Right. Have to use your serious voice this time. “Ahem. Welcome. Jisu. I trust you’re wearing what I told you to wear?”

“Of course.” She takes a deep breath. “Master.”

“Then why do you have that coat?”

Jisu gasps and looks for a camera in the elevator. “I had to!”

Bite into the orange slice on your drink. “That will be the last of any sass from you. I could send you right back down.”

“No please, sir! I really want this.” Jisu lurches forward but she shifts oddly, reacting to something within her, causing her to stand straight up. Good girl.

“Well, you could have listened for a second. As much as I like the idea of parading you around nude…" Interesting idea. "I meant, did you not like the parka I sent?”

“Of course I did, mm,” she strains to say. “I wore it at a V LIVE.”

You smile. “I didn’t give it to you for you to show off. Strip for me, slut.” 

Hopefully she can’t hear that smile through the phone. Her faux fur coat stretches almost all the way down, but reveals just the slightest of her creamy legs above her matching boots. Jisu pokes at a button but hesitates for another.

“You know I’m gonna cum inside you later.”

“Yes! Please, do. That. Later. It’s just...”

“Ahh. I see. You’re not the only one I’m in complete control of." For example, you send a text and two confused men take dozens of flights of stairs to guard an empty floor. Only one of them gets an explanation.

“I’m sorry,” Jisu says, looking down.

“Don’t you worry about a single thing. Watch this.”

Jisu’s eyes widen as the elevator stops and the monitor cuts from the number 43 and other building information to a video of your face. You wave at your laptop webcam and her hands gesture a reply in kind. “That’s really cool. Your hair looks nice today.”

You won’t tell her that it’s your bed head that you never bothered fixing. She’s right, it does suit you. “Thank you. Where were we? Right, no hiding from me, kitten.”

She removes her hat, mask and sunglasses, confirming the timid face of Choi Jisu. 

“Leave those in the corner of the elevator. An assistant will clean that up later. Now remove the coat. Slowly.”

She gulps before picking at the buttons on her jacket, revealing the collar with no slack around her neck, clamps on her nipples connected by a small chain and a chastity belt which all rest divinely on her undraped body.

“Do you like it?” 

“Mmm. Maybe.” Yes.

A short but agonizing wait for both of you when the elevator opens directly to your grand living room. Jisu takes a moment to recenter before she kneels with deferential hands on her alabaster thighs. She sticks out her eager tongue while she crosses her eyes.

Jisu makes eye contact with you—well one eye, at least—then lowers her head. Her heartbeats jump out of her chest as you sit in your fitted suit and dress pants, expectant on your leather couch facing the elevator. Incredible that you could hear it from there.  Two marble statues frame the sides of the entrance but the only work of art you need kneels subserviently between them. 

You question the viability of the chastity belt as the anal beads in it must provide incredible stimulation. Of course, she could be squirming for any number of reasons, anxiety for what’s about to happen or affliction for not being allowed to cum until today. However, you’ve made sure to go over everything in your myriad exchanges: safe words, her limits, the great deal of fantasies you share.

“Fuck, you're so cute." Shit, you didn't mean to say that out loud. You clear your throat and she looks back up. "No, keep your head down. There we go. You can keep your tongue out like that. Just don't drool in my elevator. Did you enjoy the gifts I sent?”

“I loved your gifts, master! Ngh, they’re so pretty and... And it feels so good in me.” Half a foot in the door and already she tries her hardest to hold in the excitement in her voice. How adorable.

“You stay right there.”

No astonishment that your erection grows post-haste at the view, almost aching with how protuberant it is in your pants. Zip. When you free your cock, Jisu’s eyes fill with a love that you’ve never seen before. 

“Wow. Pictures and videos don't do it justice.” 

“Damn, I got some of those dick pics professionally taken too.”

Her shoulders loosen and a hint of her eye-smile appears. Oh. She thought that was a joke.

“So.” You walk towards the entrance. ”How bad does my little kitten want this cock?”

Jisu clamors with her eyes as you stand tall, a hair’s width away from her face. She takes in the arboreal scent of your cologne. “Real bad.”

“Ah. I said tongue out.” One finger across her cheek.

“Rea— Ahh... Weally bad.”

You breathe some air in through your teeth. “Such a naughty kitten. Making a mess of my elevator. It’s so hard to tell which of my property I value more.” 

Her tits make modest handfuls so you choose to strike at them instead to leave your first marks in reddened hand-shaped flesh. The chain rustles between her nipples. You grab it along with her collar and pull them up together. Jisu squeals at the restriction on her neck and her sensitive buds being tugged along.

“But I hope you can prove you’re at least as good as a fucking sex toy.”

“I am, I am, ahh!” She squeals again when you slap her cheek with your cock, which lets some saliva that pooled in her mouth fall between her lap. You don't have to tell her to bend down at once to lick the floor, as she fully bows and groans when the silicone balls in her rear entrance tickle yet undiscovered spots. 

Throw your pants out of the elevator back into your living room. It catches on one of those statues. Yeah, that’s about the dignity those gaudy decorations deserved. “Stupid slut. Your pussy might spill even more. Turn around through that belt. You can keep your face on the floor, I just need your ass.”

You kneel on the floor so you can get an angle to unlock the cage to her perfect entrance but it reveals almost nothing, a slit that couldn't possibly fit your dick no matter how hard you shoved. The only evidence that this fuck was possible is a wetness like you’ve never witnessed before.

“Stick it up and give me your hands.”

When she stops trying to keep herself up with her hands, her pristine face presses into the floor. You almost feel bad. Jisu relinquishes all control to you as her wrists twist behind her back. Push her down a little more. 

"That's it. Now you know your fucking place. Your pussy and ass higher than your head, actually useful for something. Are my words really making you twitch this much? I wonder how my fingers will do..."

Her fingers curl up when your thumb and index take the littlest effort to spread and reveal a sumptuous sobbing flower.

"Do you want your master's cock? Wiggle your ass if you do."

Place your cock against her pussy and she shakes her ass vigorously. As much as you enjoy the sight of her completely submitted to your will, Jisu’s tightness might just beat that out. Still, you spend maybe minutes rubbing and letting her moisten your shaft until she gives in.

With her face on the floor muffling her voice, you hear, "Master! I'm sorry! I just. Fuuc-"

She backs up and sinks herself into your erection slowly. No, this was not your directive, but you had plenty more fucking to punish her for it. Fucking tight. Easily the most unyielding pussy you’ve ever speared. A usual hyperbole but you like to think of it as refining your taste. With every new girl, a new experience. 

Maybe no need for any new ones.

Not in your right mind. You want to grab your own hair to control your grunts but you hold her hands tighter instead to chastise her. Unfortunately, her prostrated stance isn't conducive to choking her, so her arms marked with small indents from your nails will have to do. Jisu screams while she wiggles her ass again, this time with your cock halfway inside.

"Sir, I don't know if I can take more."

"It's up to you. You stupid, whore. You, you don't, ah... Don't have to back up all the way if you can't take it."

But she does, the fat and muscle of her round ass wobble when she slams against you. "Master, your cock!"

And in one motion, you retreat and pound into her again.  Then again, and once more as you search to sync. The winding of the weights, to help a brass disk pendulate once more; as opposed to left and right, in and out. Your waist meets her bottom when you enter further. Her tits, the silver hanging from her nipples, you can imagine them doing the same, if she weren’t curled up on her knees as nothing but a hole to leverage.

For every desperate swing of her ass back into yours, you return doubly and begin to overpower her pace. The elevator shakes the slightest. No amount of your first animalistic fuck of Jisu could get you used to her pussy. In the wake of her constant muffled moaning and shouting, you give her no opportunity to acclimatize the same way to your dick. You ream her and every sensation of her tightness is a new one. No, as much as she lifts her ass to sink it back into you, you're in control. Therefore, the spanks on her ass are a well deserved reminder of her place.

All the work you do and the hardest thing may be wrestling your phone from your pocket. Press a button on it and the doors close while the elevator chimes.

"First floor," a neutral female voice says from the shitty speaker.

"Huh? Master, what-"

And it drops. A building worth billions of won, your playground, but the beautiful idol demeaned with every plunge of your cock is priceless. The elevator shakes a bit more with the force you thrust inside her. So what, the cable snaps? You’re stuck in this elevator with the most lavisciously tight pussy you’ve ever had with all your experience. Firefighters coming in to rescue you would need to set a fire first before you’d stop fucking Jisu.

The elevator stops. Inevitably with how unrestrained you slide in and out of the kneeling girl, Jisu sets a fire herself. It’s amazing how much you can tell that she reacts with only her ass sticking up and her fingers curling at every carnal graze of your cock head against her walls. She's lost in a paroxysm of sighs and shrieks as she certainly didn't notice the lie of the elevator announcer.

“Want me to stop?”

“No! Pleeeeeease...”

“I thought so. You would’ve ripped off my condom even if I had one, if you weren’t stuck like a lowly bitch. As much I would’ve loved to ruin that adorable mouth, I know you would’ve used it to get rid of the latex. Get up.”

Indecision. You want to hug her, slap her, kiss her then spit on her all at once. Instead as you pull her up, you develop the picture of Jisu's sloppy but even more beautiful face before you kiss her.

“Come here.”

"Master, I'm so dirty. Why'd you kiss me?" A string of saliva between your lips when you lean away. Who cares about the mess? With a face like hers, you have to kiss it, every moment you’re on this earth. Of course, you couldn’t tell her that. 

"That's for taking my cock so well," you praise her with a bit of rasp. "But don't forget I'm in fucking charge. Now be a good kitten and watch what a stupid slut you are when you cum."

“Ahh, I need it back in me, please. I need it now,” Jisu says. Turning her around takes no effort. Grasp her hands and pin them tightly above her head while with your other hand, decouple her lush thighs so that you can easily jerk your hips up to reach her depths. This time, you pay no heed to letting her pussy lips adjust to your width. In one motion, she clenches in shock and you see in the mirror the face that she makes when her climax is imminent. 

Bite her ear gently. "I'm not some vibrator or dildo. You will cum exactly when I tell you, do you understand," you say as a statement. Not a question.

“Mmmhm.” The bottom of her pursed lips tuck when her upper teeth gnaw on it. Sweat builds on both of you, but her rising shrills are hers alone as singular strikes speed up into sundry skewerings. 

“S-, s-so good, aaah, more!” Clink, clink, from the chains on her perky tits flattened against the mirror. You pound her insides, nearly pulping them at the pressure you provide in every piston.

“Patience, hmm. What’s the magic word?”

“P-p, p-please, sir, master!”

“Please, what?”

“Please, let me cum, your kitten will do anything to cum, just—” Jisu shudders when the elevator drops unexpectedly once again. Well, for her at least.

“Going to the seventy-third… Going to the ninth, going to the fifty-sixth...” Up and down the elevator goes, more sporadically than your cock’s thrusting, but with a similarly startling speed. Sometimes it’ll open and you look back, pretending like you’re unsure if someone will be there.

"I don't care who sees, master. Keep going, keep going, just like that.”

Jisu always had an enthralled visage as you stroked your cock for the camera, so you had an idea of her exhibitionism, especially when her group members “accidentally” walked into her video calls with you. However, that didn't truly warn you about how acquiescent she would be for your cock.

"What a senseless slut. Maybe if… Damn, maybe if you cum on my cock, like, like a perfect, good, fuck kitten. Ahhh, you can have some of my load,” you say, endless slick noises produced from below you interrupting your promise.

“Yes, yes! I’ve been holding it in this whole time, I’m gonna, I’m gonna...” Her last vowel turns into an almost shrill scream, turning into a squeal. She shakes, from bottom to top, and steeps your rutting dick in girl cum. 

“Fucking hell,” you say through short breaths, “there’s at least a few other people living in this building.”

She completely ignores your comments anyway and gets down on both knees in front of you, the elevator door open to an empty hallway. “Thank you sir, thank you, thank, mmmmh!” 

Somehow, she’s even more graceful with her throat crammed with your shaft. When she lets your cock go, she spits and sprays the shaft, having fun at getting it even dirtier. "Pft, ptsoo, plaaah."

“Do I need to remind you it's not your fucking toy? If you're gonna cover it in your dirty spit, at least choke on it.” You pull her hair and send your cock deep down her throat.

As rushed as you occlude her with your thickness, you pull out with no warning and cum all over her face, but you keep the frantic pace, bringing her back up to fuck her into the reflective wall. There's still residual twitches in your shaft, or at least Jisu's gibberish of "Cum, cum, master's cum" lets you know, since the pleasure in your orgasm and in using her tightness are too similar for you to distinguish. And is that her juice? Probably some mix of hers and yours.

Regardless, you can both watch her cum-covered face wrack as you slam into her while leaving obvious smears on the mirror. Her knees weaken so grab behind them to pick them up. Take a second to lean into the wall as Jisu’s back presses into your chest and the rest of her weighs down on your cock. Her feet wiggle as she sinks down all the way down into your length while her thighs are tight against her tummy. 

“Just like that. A cheap sex doll to carry around...” Your ragged breaths make it hard to complete your dirty talk. It’s also difficult to thrust into her but you don’t need to, as your movement around the elevator trying to balance pokes at her sensitive walls enough for her to yelp.

“D-don’t drop me please, master.” 

You breathe heavily and don’t bother dignifying her with a response.

Ding. The elevator door opens. Two men in suits stand by the elevator, holding stoic faces, and Jisu shifts her weight reacting to the new people. You can’t see her face but you revel in knowing that it’s certainly a look of panic and discomfort. The two bodyguards bow their heads and give way to you before you stumble to a leather chair in the floor’s lobby.

Jisu sits on your lap, holstering your cock, and she’s still folded as much as possible. She tightens further with the two men right there, watching her being defiled. However, you interrupt before she can speak, gaining your breath before she does. One of your security detail is obviously uncomfortable but he keeps a watchful eye out regardless. The other carries a bright look on his face. 

"Hey. Hah, hey Drew, did you enjoy the orgy last week?" you say to him, still slowly pumping.

"Uh, hell yeah I did. You didn't tell me all of AOA would be there! How'd you even get the drummer?"

You both laugh. "They're as fun as you thought they were, weren't they?" you say, finally getting back into some sort of rhythm fucking Jisu. Her head is completely down looking at the floor.

"Yeah, um. Maybe it was a little awkward. Considering it is all of them. My girlfriend was great at breaking the ice though."

"You should have one of these little toys on your dick!" You hold up Jisu a little higher and keep grinding. "Great conversation starter."

He snorts a little. "Good one. But, uh, I'm not too familiar with the missus," Drew says.

"Really now? Come on, you're not that old,” you say but Drew’s eyebrows crimp in genuine confusion. “Oh, you’re serious. Jisu, say hi."

Even from behind, you can tell that Jisu is as red as possible. She looks back to confirm it.

"Master, how are you fucking me this good?" she says, her voice going up in a petulant tone. You dig your nails into a breast as you hold her legs closer together. Her wetness feels even tighter, somehow."H-Hello, Drew."

Your hand teases at her nipple. "You can tell him your group, I trust him with my life. You know, literally. Do your, uh, greeting."

"Uh, sure. All in uh, uh- uhhhh! Aaaaghh!” 

Her pussy muscles clamp tight when your hands do. Grunts in each thrust interrupt your hot breath into her ear. Drew stands attentively, familiar with this kind of interruption. Your other bodyguard lets no emotion cross his face, his eyes straight and forward looking past you. You wink at him in amusement—no response—before returning your attention to Jisu. She squeaks when you kiss her on the back of her neck. You don’t remember standing up but you’re plunging into her juice-muddled pussy as fast and as deep as you can.

“Continue your greeting, whore.”

“Uhh. God, I’m going to cum-”

“You may not.”

“Fuck,” she says quietly but she continues, ”All in us, hello! Ha, haah, we are... ITZY, eeee!" 

Your bodyguard pulls out an instant camera, and Jisu instinctually puts her hands up in two peace signs. Her legs tremble and her inner muscles thrum similarly on your dick. 

"Kimchi!" Drew says. Click.

Good thing your face is blocked by Jisu in front of you, it probably looks like you just ran a marathon. Tired, you sit back down. Not on a chair, but against a wall on the floor with Jisu still in your lap panting and stifling her whimpers.

After a moment, Drew comes up to you and hands you the printed photo. "Here you go sir. I recognize her now! ‘Not shy, not me,’ that was her right? Well, she most certainly is not. I know you wanted a picture in the garden but she just struck a great pose there."

 The biggest smile on Jisu’s face. A Polaroid moment indeed. You put the developed picture into your pocket. “Thanks Drew, good thing you found that camera. Anyway, we’ll just about head there now. Don’t worry about the mess. That’s someone else’s job.”

Still in the lobby, you pat Jisu’s back and you both get up. Take her hand and walk down the hallway to the next planned stop. Jisu is content to smile and bask in the afterglow of her orgasm, all the cum on her face now dribbling down to her chin but you’re a bit ticked off. You would want to hold her hand tighter, though you let go instead. That seems to have more of an effect, with how she looks crestfallen at her now free hand. 

✦✧✦✧✦✧

You open the imposing doors to the spacious glass-encased room.

“I thought you didn’t like the taste of cucumbers.”

“Wow, is that your idea of pillow talk?”

“I wouldn’t say most couples get to have an entire terrace garden above the rest of Seoul as their pillow.”

Her cheeks match the tint of the petals behind her. “Uh, well, your dick doesn’t taste like electricity!”

“Thanks? Anyway, I have some extra clothes in a storage closet. Might be chilly if we go out to the balcony. To admire the stars and whatnot.”

“All this planned out for me?”

“Nothing less.”

You retrieve the shirt and gym shorts and she takes off her nipple chains before putting them on but keeps the collar anyway. The two of you walk around the indoor arboretum, though you tend to stare at the casually dressed Jisu more than the flora.

"He doesn't look like a Drew to me," Jisu says.

"It's his English name, you know like Julia."

"And what about that other dude just standing there?"

“Oh, my other security guy? Isaac, he’s a family man. You know, grace before meal—breakfast too—type of stand up guy,” you say.

“And he what, tolerates you fucking in front of him?”

Scratch your chin. “I doubt tolerate, that's part of why he isn't talking, but he also wouldn't want to talk about his dealings in front of his family. In a way, his silence is quite comforting.”

“What if he snitches?”

“Considering how badly they treat weed and gambling, I can't imagine he'd see his beautiful son and daughter again with what he's done. Drew and I are lifelong friends, Isaac, now that’s a debt with everything to lose.”

“Are you saying-”

“I'm not saying anything of course. It’s all just hypotheticals and fantastical stories I made up on the spot to impress you.” You smile.

She narrows her eyes. “You don't trust me?”

“I do,” you say without hesitation. ”I wouldn't even talk to anyone half as long as I have with you if I didn't. You could think of it as me protecting you.”

Jisu rests her hands on her sides, her arms crossed. “You kinda sound like a mob boss.”

“My dear, other than having the right papers, a CEO isn’t much more than one.” 

"Wow. Your way of thinking, so Dalla Dalla."

A bit of air out of your nose. "Julia. Are you trying to advertise to me?”

“Wouldn’t that count as insider trading?” No, that’s not really how that works, even if you are a JYP shareholder. Probably don’t need to bore her with the details. Also, not really the point of her statement so you shake your head instead.

“You see that girl in the mirror?” You point at the reflective wall, and between green and other fanciful plant colors interspersed throughout leaves, a flower.

“You mean me?” Jisu says, pointing to herself.

“Mhm. I don’t know if it’s trading but I definitely want to do something inside her.”

Her laugh lets a little bit of the moonlight into your heart. “God, that sucked. That was so stupid, oppa.” Well, that wasn’t one of the names you told her to use for you, but now’s not the time.

“You know why I like talking to you?"

"Hmm?”

"You remind me of home."

She hits you, as revenge for making her blush so much.  "Awww, you're so sweet."

"Well thank you, but I mean. Most of the girls I fuck don't speak much English."

Jisu glances to the side and a corner of her mouth falls just the slightest. "Right. Other girls. Well, you're not my first either."

"Yeah I know, you’ve told me as much. It’s just that this whole thing is a lot of swimming after just two toes in the water."

"I. I don't get what you're saying but it sure sounds. Um, right to me. Anyway, what are you? A horny monkey? You just fuck girls without a single word?"

"No, of course, I wouldn't be successful here without knowing Korean. It’s more that your accent when you speak English doesn't really sound like much of one to me. I mean, I just really like your voice in general, but your English especially."

She hugs you from the side. "Thanks. Your Korean is not too bad yourself."

"Must be hard to keep up when you don't travel to Canada as often as me."

"Well, our um, late night chats have really helped," Jisu says as red starts to fill her cheeks once again. She lets go of the embrace.

"I bet they have." You watch her sit on a bench across from some lilacs.

"Yeah," her hand wanders from lightly caressing the flowers, "in more ways than one." 

Underneath the gym shorts, slipped to the side lies a perfect slit of a pussy, not giving up the secret of its lips without your width gripping against it.

"Hold on. I didn't say I was ready yet, I'm not Batman."

"Hmm. You or Christian Bale? That’s a tough one. I’d say you’re about as handsome."

"I didn't need the flattery to fuck you again, I need..." You follow her eyes’ leer downwards.

"You really, really like my body, huh? Master?" she lingers on the word.

"So you actually want to go again? Right now?"

She pulls her shorts down, ignoring your question.

"Lest you forget," you grab her by the hair. "I'm not the one being teased here. I'm all for you talking like the cheap whore you are but from now on..." 

You cover her mouth and hold her neck. Her half moon eyes are half fear, half excitement.  Her smile fades the same as her breath. You bend her over your thighs, her ass a sufficient target

"There we go, there we go. Good girl. Don't struggle, I won't hurt you. More than you want anyway."

Her eyes roll to the back of head as she tries to gasp for air. Spank.

“Who said you’re allowed to swear? Or cum a second time? In front of my retinue, no less.”

Huge windows let in the moonlight, but she closes her eyes like she’s falling asleep anyway. Finally, you remove your hand from her mouth and she takes a deep breath. You spank her for the privilege of breathing.

“Fucking whore, trying to rush me. You’ll get this dick when I’m ready. Do you understand? Your eyes are to be lowered like a worthless slave. If I catch you looking at me… It’s going to hurt.”

One more spank for good measure.

Jisu follows you with her head down like a dejected puppy back to the elevator, up to the penthouse. You lead her carefully with one arm reaching backwards to hold her by the collar. Each time you look at her, her gaze stays downwards exactly as you tell her to. It’s all about perception. What does making her look at the ground do? Nothing, maybe a little soreness in her neck with how you draw out your journey to the bedroom. But it sends a message. One that has her dripping yet again, past the gym shorts you gave her.

Your dick is a renewed firebrand at the sight of Jisu sitting on the edge of your bed, even in the most homely clothes. Even though most people don’t wear a collar at home, you wouldn’t mind seeing her everyday in this bedroom to get rid of the drabness of the decor and the emptiness of your home.

“Master.” Jisu licks her lips. ”You must be so uncomfortable still wearing that suit.”

“You did get every fluid possible on it.”

“Here, let me help.” She pats on the mattress but you walk up in front of her. Jisu licks at the suit.

“That’s, um, going to do the opposite of help.”

“Oh. May I remove my master's clothes?”

Nod. For each piece of clothing she removes from you, you undress her in kind. You enjoy the heat from each other's bodies, the intimacy and closeness you feel from sharing in the warmth. Jisu is eager for your cock once again, crudely grabbing it while you shuffle onto the bed but you decide to switch things up. Lie down and grab her by the hips to pull her waist right above your mouth. She squeaks at the suddenness.

"There you are, slide onto my face. remember? A good kitten gets rewarded. that's right, put that, ahhh.”

There is no mot juste for her taste, the stubborn leakage of Jisu’s hole. For a moment, you falter, and consider relinquishing all the control you’ve worked for to her pussy. You suck and make a mess of her wetness but her toes curl as a tocsin for her incoming orgasm, so your tongue backpedals its foray on her clit.

“Mmh, nuh-uh.” You lift her ass up from your face. ”Not yet. Again. Only one place you get to cum.”

Jisu has to hide her disappointment, but she only looks cuter doing so with her pouty lips. “On master’s cock. Of course.”

She crawls down from her perch on your mouth to lie on her side next to you. Gaze into her dark eyes for too long before flipping her around. Jisu is just the right size to be a little spoon for you as your cock rests in snug wait between her drenched legs.

"Ah, ah, don't move, don't move. Just let me do the work," you say as she grinds her slick lips against your trapped erection.

There’s barely any fight left in you at this point to make, only a drive to finish a final time inside of her, so you kiss behind her ears as a final warning before sticking your dick deep. Your bed creaks when she shakes at the intrusion, as if you hadn’t been inside her all night. 

"Say it with me, good girl."

"I'm a good girl. I'm a good kitten for master," she repeats over and over through every grueling and pleasurable lunge of your dick.

“Very good,” you barely breathe out.

Your tender and slow thrusts turn her loving croons to loud reactions. She has to suck on your fingers on her face, your forearm wrapped around her neck, on anything to not scream again and tire herself out.

“Kitten loves her home, doesn’t she?”

“I’m right where I belong, on master’s cock.”

Speeding up at Jisu’s confirmations, your pistoning turns your spoon position into a nameless tangle that lasts for minutes, two bare bodies twisting around trying to find the maximum pleasure possible while you shove her around the bed. She ends up with her head hanging off the side of the mattress, having to hold her hands on the floor while you slam into her ass.

“I'm a worthless fuck kitten, I'm only good for master's cock, I have no use other than for master's cock.” Jisu’s probably drooling yet again.

“Okay, now shut the fuck up, let me do my work.”

The mesmerism of her every mewl makes you want to pull her up to see her face as you inch ever closer to your climax. You take her by the collar and she stumbles a bit at the awkward leverage, though you manage to turn around gracefully so that you can look into her eyes while she sits on your cock.

“You’re… not going to pull out, are you?”

Once more, other than fucking your erection into her with reckless abandon, you want to kiss her. But something else builds inside you. Your breath meets hers, but your lips avoid hers to meet her ear instead.

“Not a chance. I’ll use your pussy as the fucking cum hole it is,” you say gently. 

Her lips contort in your brazenness, but her hips follow your escalating rhythm.

The intensity in your voice increases. “Then, haah, I do it again. Then, one more time every day, until your tummy fills with all my seed and even as that tummy grows, I breed you more and more until you’re just another slut in a sticky white puddle, a little bitch in a cage used for nothing other than my daily deposit for my sperm… God, you’ll drown in my cum and beg for more like the good pet that you are.” 

Jisu still wants for words to reply yet finds nothing but the wanton pumping of your cock with her hips contesting for every unwrapped millimeter left on your shaft. Regardless of your previous one, your orgasm manages to fill the demand of Jisu’s pussy for your cum with how it squeezes and slides back and forth. Its ungraceful search for the load it deserves is enough for her to cum again, causing an amplifying feedback loop. 

“More, more, more,” she repeats, like you need any more confirmation to pump all your semen into her.

You shoot three, four times and that should be your limit but the wringing of her muscles causes you to shoot twice, three times as much. No, it’s uncountable. Your breathing is as sloven as hers. Your clock could never accurately find the time that it takes for the two of you to unwind from bliss; it’d help if you slow down but even while your shaft becomes soft, you keep your two bodies interdigitated just like your hands. The two of you breathe as if it’s your last, as though every word and promise you made to each other led to this moment. Jisu crushes your arm with her head, deeming it a more suitable pillow than your designer cushions.

“So, you’re down to sleep over or do you want my chauffeur to bring you home? I can guarantee he’ll be discreet,” you say.

Jisu kisses you on the cheek. “I’m sleeping here silly.”

"By the way..."

She wiggles her nose into your neck, tickling you, so try your best not to laugh.

"Ah, hah. Maybe because I just came inside of you, maybe I just feel more comfortable telling you. But those late night chats really helped me too."

Her eyebrows crease. You didn't need to bring this up now. Dammit. "How so?'

You sigh and go on. "That was the longest I've actually talked to someone," you whisper. "Now that I think about it, you're the only other person that's been in this bed."

"I think I get it now. You lied. Maybe I am your first." She smiles.

"About?” Her smile grows wider and you need to object. ”No, no, I mean—" But you let your better judgement silence you from trying to show off your body count to a girl you're cuddling. Or maybe you’re interpreting it wrong. 

"It's fine. I promise."

"Hold on, let's not get ahead of ourselves," you say but she hugs you tighter.

"You want me to let go? Lemme see that footage you got." Jisu says.

"Well you're gonna have to get off me. The footage is on my phone, underneath my pillow."

"Under your pillow?" she says, rising especially on the last word.

"In case I get anything urgent."

You give her your phone, in an act of trust whose magnitude she would never understand. She skips through the camera footage and her hand slips back down between her legs.

“Are you?”

“Eating the cum that was inside me, yes sir.”

Your eyes cannot waver at the sight of her pushing as much of your load back in as she takes out with her fingers but you eventually concede to the exhaustion brought about three or four or however many orgasms in a day. A wave of relaxation washes over you despite Jisu’s quiet whimpering as she continues to touch herself. You’d get back at her tomorrow, today, your eyelids shut without warning. 

Every distraction on your mind falls to the wayside from thoughts of Jisu, just as your consciousness does the same. Maybe you’re managing to fall in love with her on the first fuck, as deviant as it was. No, you need that chime as much as you need Jisu. You can’t be living and pretending to be older than you are. Fucking women that are older, doing business you only truly half understand, no matter how much you pretend to.

Warmth around your neck. Jisu’s gentle hand. Open your eyes. It’s still dark as ever both when you look outside and as you keep looking into Jisu's pupils.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you say.

She takes off the shirt you gave. “Can you?”

Shake your head. “Are you. Um. Free tomorrow?”

“This is definitely going to tire you out, though. You said it yourself, you’re not Batman.”

“No, I mean. Dinner, or a movie, or whatever.”

Jisu smiles. On top of the world yet your penthouse seems a little taller.

The Curse of the Spider ft. Jiu

Nothing happened last night. That’s not usually the first thought when you wake up. Usually it’s brushing your teeth or needing to relieve yourself. Maybe work, if it weren’t the weekend. But no, you realize, nothing happened last night.

Weird. When you sleep, don’t you usually—

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fold into pieces. You tend to do that.

A desire to be strong when you’re paper.

I know you. What makes you tick and squirm. I hope you understand. I didn’t want to have to do this. I didn’t want to.

That’s it.

That’s it.

Let it all out.

Don’t cry.

That’ll fade away soon enough.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

There’s nothing special about sleep. Sure, the blanket and the pillows are on the floor. A little cut on your leg. Must’ve snagged on something earlier. Otherwise, you have to remark on the beautiful unremarkableness of the weekend. There’s sun but you can stay in bed a little longer. There’s cleaning and other chores to do, but most importantly, there’s always tomorrow. For now, all you need is yourself and a bit of quality time to recenter. Alone. You didn’t need the other.

That’s not going to make you turn down an invitation to meet new people later today. It’s incredible how little you can do in a day before that though. You look into the large mirror in your living room and sit cross-legged on your couch. Breathing carefully, you avoid eye contact instinctually.

Unfortunate that the mirror came with the place. It reminds you of the second person. One that’s ever-present.

Frankly, life would be better if your house were four walls. No door.

These ideas flow out as you exhale.

Inhale.

People need people.

Learn to invite them into your life again.

Ring. Ring. Scramble to your notebook. Good, good, that’s Ian’s number.

“Who is this?”

“Uhh, it’s Ian? I thought you saved my number.”

Just to be sure, you check through the contacts in the cracked LG phone on your coffee table. It doesn’t have a SIM card but that’s not what the phone was for anyway. “No, I did. Just wanted to be sure. Ha. I just get so many spam calls, it’s crazy.”

“Oh, tell me about it. Taxes this, giveaway that.”

“For sure man. Anyway. You can pick me up from Citizen’s Park later, right?”

“Not your place? There’s plenty of time for me to reach it.”

“No, no, I was gonna go for a jog anyway.”

He lets out an amused breath. “Ahh, you’re going for the sweaty introduction.”

Shit, how did he find out you live so far from that park? No, no, it’s just a joke. You did say you were going for a jog.

“You’re an interesting guy, you know. I’m sure you’ll make a great first impression.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

Flip the phone closed.

Takes a while to find an outfit that you could run in that still looks decent. Smoggy outside but not nearly as much as Seoul. The setting sun looks nice at the very least. It’s been so long since you’ve been to a bar like this. It’s been so long since you’ve hung out with friends, so long since you’ve fucked someone.

No, not today.

Another bottle.

“Crazy how much a mirror can make a room look bigger.” He twists his neck to look behind him. “Damn, that’s a really big one. I wanna ask where they got that.”

“I guess at the very least, that’ll be a first for the waitress to hear before she rejects you.”

“Nah, can’t a man have genuine, erm, architectural interest?”

Across sizzling pork fat, the bags under that man’s eyes weigh heavier than his stare. You almost want to look away at how pitiful he looks. Take a swig. “You ever have one of those really long dreams? How do I put this… you know how you can’t tell when it starts?”

“Huh? This kid is drunk as hell— Three more bottles of soju, please! We all have dreams, dude. They’re not that interesting. I came here to meet people, not listen to ramblings of a wasted kid.”

“Nah, if anyone, it’s you that’s spouting nonsense here. Mirrors this, architecture that. Let him talk. I wanna know more about you. And your dreams.”

“Thank you! Hana, right? So, what was I saying? Oh yeah. Dreams. The start of them. The start of mine was so clear, probably because it was a nightmare. It’s the same start as the year actually. Or maybe earlier than that. That’s the problem.”

Dick between your legs and you ran. But even with all the time that’s passed, you cannot forget her. It’s fear or maybe it’s whatever’s next to that. She did anything to get you to cum and she made sure you’d never be bored. You’d even call yourself the luckiest man alive because the woman loved you with a capital L. Should’ve known better. Clinginess, the way she manipulated your emotions, her use of sex as a reward. She was on your dick so much that she wouldn’t get off of it for the tiniest mistakes. No, the flags weren’t red; they were semaphore for “get out of Dodge”. To think you almost caught feelings for her because for all that, the hot nearly outweighed all the crazy, like one time, how she twirled on your cock could’ve made you propose on the spot. You like to think you’re more rational now. Of course not. It’s been a whole year but the unease still rules your mind.

It’s not so unfounded. You’re not really one to leave those scars on your arm. When did those get there? You must’ve done something. In your sleep, or in some psychosis, or you got too drunk alone and just had it. At the very least, you could be sure it wasn’t her. There are no traces of your old you with the new nose, the new jaw, a different shape in your eyes, your new outfit wardrobe, hair, friends, job, and an all new personality forged by a relentless hammer of paranoia she passed on like an STD.

You didn’t say any of that, right?

The girl sitting next to you, her name is Hana. Hana. She’s proper but not too proper, keeping up with your drinking. It’s all small talk. Work and vacations. Dreams. Good enough. You could imagine a perfectly fine life here, far away from Seoul.

“I don’t really, like, get it.”

“Did say it was a dream. They’re kinda hard to interpret. Hana.”

She smiles. It’s cute. Hana. You’ll remember it this time. “You didn’t explain exactly, how or I mean, why you moved away.”

“Wait, what did I say?”

“Wow, you’re gone huh? Me too. Umm, something about being lucky and Kansas? I don’t really care. Come here.”

She takes your hand as you each part for a nearby alley, step by fumbled step, and she slinks in your embrace against the brick wall. Warmth from the humid air outside, the warmth from the alcohol, warmth from a kiss. One not so desperate or passionate. This is nice.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“You guys didn’t leave yet?”

“He wanted some food and…”

You grab a piece. “Told you they wouldn’t finish the meat.”

“Why do you even like this guy? Look at his eyes, it’s like he’s always looking past you.”

That really hits the spot.

Three o’clock on your watch. It’s probably not afternoon, unless more of an alcoholic than you recall. Nothing doesn’t spin. Hate how getting drunk means oversharing and only keeping snapshots of the night in your memory. The latter reminds you too much of your current recurring… no, dream wouldn’t be a way to put it. More like a void with a shining emptiness too notable to ignore.

You look at your phone. What’s that number you sent a text to? It doesn’t matter. The phone doesn’t even work. One more glass couldn’t hurt. Seems like everyone’s riled up with new people coming and going.

Damn she’s cute. Hani was it? Something like that. Did you have to be so bad with names? “Hey, hey. Your, uh, noona says she’s taking you home.” Hani reaches towards you but a delicate hand not so delicately slaps her away.

“I was hoping you would instead,” you say, finishing the drink in front of you.

“I mean yeah, but-” Hannah looks back. The woman that she turns her head for is even prettier. Lights out pretty. Thank you noona. The prettier noona’s arms wrap lovingly around you.

“You’re welcome. Baby.”

 

You don’t remember the girl you’re flirting with having such a sickeningly sweet voice. Or that she would be the kind to whisper in your ear. She sounds too much like—

Your muscles find no success in flexion or extension. A doll who drank something a bit funny. Anna reverses. None of your new friends recognize your hijacker. Of course they do nothing, probably believing you as the lucky man you say you are. One of them even gives you a fist bump. Not sure if it counts when it’s fist to open hand.

“Ayyy.” You just learned that man’s name minutes ago.

“Damn, I thought he could handle his liquor.” Him too.

“Sorry, we gotta cut. I can take care of him here. Oh, watch out, that glass is broken by the way. I can take care of that.” Her name. If there’s one saving grace in your state of consciousness, it’s that her name slips past you.

You look at the man in the wall across from you, being carried on a pretty woman’s back. It’s absurd how easy it is to take a fully grown man. What’s his name again? Starts with a Y, definitely an N at the end, Yoomin? Yun? Should’ve been better with names. No, there’s a slash somewhere in there.

Oh, you’re bleeding.

I think that should hurt more.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

In the frozen, silent night, the full moon gives way to dreams.

Red suns and blue roses for you who I’ve already seen.

It’s dangerous to chase me but the night turns good.

A lullaby before we fly too high and what? And so?

We break mirrors over the sky because we could.

Wake up. Wake up. Look below.

A scar which a star misunderstood.

Bamboo pipes from the world outside.

I lock your mouth to hide.

Such thorny lies.

Why do you look past me with those odd eyes?

Demise, you scream yet no sounds send.

What cries you scream as the night finds no end.

What fight to break the wall with seams no more.

Ships asunder must rend.

In slumber we mend.

If only we could sleep as we did before.

✦

✧

✦

✧

✦

✧

✦

✦✧✦✧✦✧

This is not a dream.

Noona. I know it might be weird, but I think I love you.

I replay your words in my reverie. The male brain is so ductile after an orgasm. Noona. I love you. Noona. I love you.

Me too.

I don’t mind the dark. Most people want to dream; dreams were realities I failed to achieve. Overreactions of the brain to long term memories muddled together. The haphazard organization of thoughts in some pattern not worth time to analyze. Dreams are poetry. Metaphorical, flowery, ornate squanderings of time. Screw dreams. They remind me of Professor Son reading passages from some book whose title I already forgot. I’d rather be in this bed. It has everything I need. If only I had insomnia, then I could watch you a few hours longer.

The sun jeopardizes your beautiful slumber and the bass rumbling the house does the same despite being half as loud as it was younger in the night. A smidge surprised no one’s turned that off by now but everyone’s probably too wasted.

An idle breath heats my neck while a sedate heart pulsates on my unclad back. We’re trapped underneath a thick white blanket sufficiently dirtied by nighttime activities and I don’t need to see you to know your bed head looks sexy as hell. You won’t remember the lack of five used condoms stuck to my thighs with sweat. The rascal, enjoying the useless sight.

“Ahem, noona. You up already?” God, your gravelly voice. I already feel a twinge in my stomach listening to the low growl overwhelm the music. A single pair of boxers confines your perfection from my covetous pussy. My eyes close and I pretend my body’s twitches are unconscious but a yawn forces my jaws open.

“Hey. That was such a good fuck.” I say gently, keeping calm and collected even when I turn to face you. Don’t want to smother you like I did with my legs last night. Or this morning. Whatever. A light peck will have to do.

“Yeah, you, wow. You know how to tire a man out. Woah, woah, I did say I’m tired.” Your hand on my hair runs counter to your words. Not a chance you’d mind me slithering down to your pants again.

I dip my voice in grenadine. “Aww, baby. Can I make you feel better?” A subtle twist of my eyes and lips to sulk in just the right way to arouse you from your sleep and whatnot.

"Fuck. Yes, please. That ruffled purple hair works so well on you.” You ruffle it even further. This smile my mother gave me is a weapon. I guess most guys wouldn’t stop a blowjob, especially not the way I slobber on a cock and clean it up spotless, but a simple beam is all it takes to destroy any last speck of inhibition you have.

“You like when noona takes your big cock all the way down?“

"Noona, I can’t. Understand what you’re saying. Ugh.” Oh, my words only came out as gurgles. That’s okay. The way your one eye closes as the other lid twitches in agony is so goddamn tantalizing. You stretch your toned arm all the way down to grab my ass while I suck you off. Let’s see if my baby boy wants more of this premium pussy. Oh. That’s a finger. How eager. Doesn’t even care that someone could walk into this bedroom right now. Why would you? All you need is to pleasure me with your long deft fingers and your longer cock. Good boy.

“Thank you, noona.”

I’m really not as awake as I thought. I budge my butt around to expedite your dedication so we’re both on our sides with our faces in each other’s crotch. A good boy needs to be rewarded and my wetness will do just that. Hopefully you don’t notice all the cum that I collected from the condoms still pooling inside that pussy but even if you do, I could easily excuse it as my juices being extra sticky this morning. How you dip your tongue all the way inside my syrupy hole reveals how little you care.

Must be barely seven hours into the new year and I’m already two steps ahead of my initial plans.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“Happy anniversary!” you say as you open the door with a huge cake in hand wearing nothing but a G-string.

I smile and clap. You rush into the house with a cute blush on your cheeks, shivering at the biting air outside. We only get halfway into the cake before we’re both nude and covered in a sticky mess but I can’t stop thinking about how tacky Valentine’s day gets. Idiot.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Turns out being pretty has its perks. You’ll come to my house at two whatever AM just for a taste. I know why. I don’t have sex nor make love with you. It’s better described as needing your cock and fucking myself onto you. You put all of your effort into thrusting and I redouble it by seating myself deeper on your length until not a single drop of your cum spills onto the bed. If I guzzle on your cock, even if you unload on my face, I don’t waste a dribble. My sticky fingers make sure your semen goes right where it belongs. This is perfect.

“Noona, fuck. You’re fucking me so fast. This is the third time today, why do you need my cock so bad?” you say between breaths.

“I need your cock so bad because it’s so fucking perfect.” Clap and clap and clap, each thrust as we slam into each other becomes wetter with sweat, wetter with my love. That’s what you wanted right? My love?

The leaves fade from the trees. Everyday with you is special but this one stands out. None of your coworkers seemed to mind when I visited you in that dress. I wish you did. I wish you’d just snap, like you would in bed. Not exactly like you would in bed, but there would be no complaints from me if you beat them up for looking.

“You know how much I like that, don’t you?”

“It’s always, shit, back and forth with you noona. One moment, you’re on top of me like this and the next you want me to abuse you. You’re gonna… fuck. You’re really going to wring me dry, Minji.”

“Hmm?”

“Noona. I just feel like I’m gonna be nothing but bones after this.”

I slam my ass down harder and you snap back into the softness of the mattress. “That’s okay my love. This bone is all I need.”

Every push comes with a twist in my hips and a subsequent drained groan from your lips. I lean over and seal them with my own, tasting your tongue as it looks for air even though it’s already so dry. There’s not much left for me to do.

My eyelids bat at him, flickering an inch away from his face while my warm breath gives you comfort. I say, “Y-you want to breed noona, don’t you?”

“I do, I do.”

Not enough. “Are you sure?”

“Please, there’s only so much left in my balls.”

I giggle. “That doesn’t seem like nothing left. All I need is that final droplet of your cum, baby. Imagine after you cum in me, when I become your mommy and my tits grow so big that you can suck on them and milk them just like how I milk your cock. You can be my daddy and daddy can rail his little girl on the floor, in the bathtub, outside, I don’t care. Just cum for me baby, and one day, I know we can have that life both of us want.”

Whispering as I lean in closer and closer until I’m practically devouring your neck and your ears, it brings you over the edge one last time before you pass out on me, your spent cock still desperate to fill me up with whatever’s left. We lay in each other’s arms and I feel you getting softer inside me while I hope for the sperm to take its course.

That’s when our routine really kicks in. The next day you come back and sometimes we do the exact same thing again in spite of all your protesting. Then another week, I’m your little puppy, licking at your feet, leashed to a cage or locked in a closet for a few hours with nothing to do but touch myself. You give me all your seed and there is that unfortunate time you cum down my throat. Not that I hate the taste of your load or the taste of anything that comes from you, but rather, it’s a waste of what would be our perfect kids. That’s why I have to keep you on empty.

Like for one week, as the snow starts to weigh down on the roof, you “come down with a fever”. But instead, you’re tied up, your cock locked with a belt. I give you your daily milking, but sometimes, noona isn’t hungry today. That doesn’t make it less fun for me to mess around with your balls, your cute little asshole. And when I release you from your lock, there’s all that precum that I guess I have to lick up before I bend myself over and fuck myself onto you one more time.

All the charades and all these games. I don’t mind it, I swear. It’s just that I need your cum. I need your baby. I don’t care. I do not care that you just graduated, that you have your whole life ahead of you.

But no.

I have to wait.

We can’t get married, we can’t have kids or a family of our own until we’re settled down. That’s all a distant dream to you. What a waste of time. How long are you expecting to live? Seventy, eighty years and you plan on throwing it away without me.

The pretty lights encircle the fake tree and we open the gifts we bought for each other. I can’t be happy. I feel something crumbling, as though the care I put into the Jenga tower isn’t enough to keep it steady.

“Did we meet before?” When you turn your head to look at me, you avoid my eye contact for a tick.

I hug your back. “What do you mean? Of course, we did.”

“Right. I guess it might’ve been a coincidence.”

“Oh, you mean the Christmas party last year? I… I have to be honest with you babe. I met you there first. I was just, a bit too shy.” Of course not. I was nearly tempted to knock on your door and come up with some excuse to fuck you right on the spot when I followed you home. I know you, baby. You wouldn’t have said no. However, patience favors those who exercise it.

You turn around to face me and pat my head. “Right. I’m sorry noona, I didn’t mean anything by that.” I notice how you push me away just the slightest from my embrace. “How are the birth control pills by the way? You should be almost done by now. I can bring you to the clinic again if you want me too.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” I try my best not to grind my teeth down to their roots. I even actually took some of them instead of throwing them away just so I could maintain the illusion, yet here you are nagging. I should’ve thrown all of them away.

“I was just curious. I also, um. Found a USB that was encrypted. I wasn’t sure if I should bring this up.”

I hope you can’t hear my heart race. It takes a lot for me not to stutter. “No, that’s nothing to worry about. There’s family stuff I gotta deal with. Maybe when we’re a little more committed in the future we can talk about that, but for now…” I caress your arms and look up at you before getting down on my knees.

Calm down. Lick the tip. There we go. I breathe in the taste of your flesh but I don’t get to breathe out until I bring it all the way down. I’m calm.

Motherfucker. Your cock in my mouth and all I can think of is that goddamned USB. That isn’t for you, you know that? Those are my plans. I know you’re the kind of person to just do whatever the fuck he wants. That’s how you live right? Flying by the seat of your pants, letting life come at you. All I want to do is show you how wrong you are.

Spit leaks out of my mouth and watching me clean your dick makes you bend me over the couch. Happy anniversary.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

And send.

Read 6:52 am.

Minji is typing. Minji is typing. Typing.

And send. Send. Send.

Message received. But not read.

Minji is typing. She’s typing, but no one’s fucking responding. His apartment is empty. His family has no idea where he is. His friends don’t either. I look for a knife in the fridge and the wallet, places I don’t keep knives, places I will keep knives. A cut. Cut.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Time slows down during the longest day of the year with the sun beating down through your window. Our last fuck. You almost don’t even cum inside me. All the times we had sex, even when I gave you the best deepthroat I could muster, you didn’t mind watching me spit out your load to lube up my craving pussy before playing with it. In fact, that’s usually what gets you going the second time.

Instead, you put a condom on.

A fucking condom?

“You know you’ve cum in me,” 560, “so many times before? Why now?”

“Do you want to fuck or not?” You say. What annoys me is how annoyed you sound when I’m the one annoyed not only at your annoyance but your stupid request in the first place, god, how the fuck is this going to work?

“Fine.”

No warnings. I hop on top of you and at once, the bed starts shaking with how much force I bounce on your dick. In your surprise, your hands wrap around my waist and I giggle a bit with how it tickles, but I know that my smile is all you need to shove into me harder. That’s it. We grab each other’s hands as we ride this perfect rhythm.

“Can… can, can I—”

Of course, I fuck you so well that you want to take it off. The softness, the tightness, the little creases when I clamp down on your dick. You can’t get that with a condom. But more importantly…

“You won’t be able to fucking cum inside of me with that stupid piece of rubber on.” I quickly get off for a second and notice the pulsating rising within me, my pussy so hungry to put your cock back in. This time, I feel your flesh and all its imperfections, just how I’m supposed to.

“I’m still gonna pull out.” You don’t.

But then the inevitable that shouldn’t have been. I text you. You don’t respond for 24 hours. Did you know we haven’t even gone that long without fucking in nearly a year?

“It was work,” your sad little voice on the phone speaker, ”Sorry Mijin.”

“Who? What the fuck did you just say?”

And you hang up just like that. The phone vibrates again, I should’ve hesitated to pick that up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck, I swear I slipped up. I’m sorry, I have way too much to do today. I’ll, I’ll call you back. I promise.”

I make my way to your house. Thank you for leaving the door unlocked, I’m sure you know how ineffective that would be anyway. You’re on your dumb laptop on your dumb couch typing away like there’s no tomorrow. Or like there’s no me. Your face scrunches—I just want to kiss it—but you barely notice my entrance, shooting me a hardly acknowledging glance. You must be stressed, right?

I yank off your earphones, kneel down in front of you, call you every pet name that you like and still you don’t react. When I stare at your dick growing in your pants, even when I haven’t even done anything yet, I know you’re holding back. Either you’re looking back at me with fear, pleasure, or just into some work-induced void. My fingers tap on your pants. You don’t hesitate. I unzip your pants. Your breath doesn’t hitch. I stroke your length, that beautiful length and somehow, you’re still working. A bit of my slippery spit coating your length, but especially the head, and at this point I’ve had it.

“So what, that’s it? You wanna just—”

Cut.

✦

✧

✦

✧

✦

✧

✦

You don’t have a seatbelt on. Your head is trapped in her lap as she pets it.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay. Your noona is right here.”

The low rumble of the car, waiting a little too long after the red light is gone.

The high tone of ringing in your ears.

Black streetlights.

The LED car is white.

Her hands are leather. The seats are gentle.

Her seat claw into your shoulder like her fingers reclines

In a way you’re thankful

let’s have a conversation

baby boy

I’m sorry

a hand on your

cheeks air very

hot in left ear

tap

Tap

TAP. SLAP.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“I’m sorry for interrupting your bullshit, or whatever it is. You need to sober up. Here.” Wiggle your fingers. You have the slightest jurisdiction over them. She offers you water and you gulp down every drop with her help. At the bottom, a pill. Objections and bestial flight responses brush to the wayside as your conscious self has nothing to offer. “There we go. All better baby.”

A fire fills you from within your core. A thumb fills your mouth. Her nails are long. Sharp. Reflexes tell you to suck on it. Your heart races a new land speed record. Hormones drown out alarm signals. Alcohol does no good to stop your cock from growing as you lie down on the couch in the dark room.

“My sweet, sweet baby boy. It’s been so long since we fucked. 324 days. Just cut me off, cold turkey. You know I haven’t cum since then? The last time I had a fucking orgasm is when your semen pooled in my little belly. Then what?”

Her lull is rhetorical. Her eyes become knives into yours. A finger into your side and the cut is more literal.

“You feel ticklish, don’t you.”

You do, but there’s a little more than that from the break of the skin.

“You want to laugh, right?”

Want is a strong word.

”But you can’t and it’s killing you inside. Imagine feeling that for nearly a year. Bastard. You destroyed me.”

That slap leaves a mark. Fuck that stings. The first sign of taste and it’s iron from the corner of your mouth. Would explain the pain. Would it kill her to cut her nails first?

“In my opinion, your face is even better this way. You think a bit of plastic surgery would change your eyes? Your fingerprint?”

She licks at the wound below your eye, her saliva almost soothing it.

“Your smell? You cut me. You… Fuck, you wouldn’t get it. Why the fuck do I love you so much.”

Minji kisses you everywhere and her hands explore every part of you as though she’s never seen your neck or your legs. She really seems to want to know more about your balls though. With every tight grab, you sense a little bit more on your body. Your sobriety comes back to you because of her greed. At first, words come out as mumbles and she looks at you quizzically while stripping you down, but eventually you find yourself able to speak.

“Is, is that… really all you want to do to me?”

Noona smiles. “Aww. Babe. We have plenty of time tonight. Not just the night really. We can be here for as long as you want.” She grabs your chin. “Do you want to leave?”

Your eyes shake.

“So that’s a no? Of course you never wanted to go. You would miss this body too much.”

Her clothes were in the back of your mind when she first stole you but you watch intently now as she slowly drops her skirt. Her fishnet leggings catch onto one of her long nails, tearing it. That’s on purpose. She smirks again.

“Remember when you bought this for me?” She twists, showing off her side cleavage from the sleeveless wool sweater. “Looks like your little guy here remembers.”

You only have your boxers left on. It’s all fuzzy but you see your pants your coworker bought you, the jacket you took so long to pick out, every article of clothing on top of a trash bin.

“Oh, you won’t need those. Noona can dress you. In fact, I have something you might like.”

Minji steps away from the living room and you don’t plan on finding out whatever outfit she’s going to pull out. Certainly more time in the night has passed than you could be sure of, but it’s enough that whatever drugs she gave you is wearing off. For all her plans, she somehow overlooked your fortitude and your stubborn will to live a normal life.

Glance around the room without making noise. Run. You have to run. There’s nothing else. Noona. She’ll catch you. Limbs still don’t feel all there. Timing. It’s all timing. You gain control of your body and the first thing you do is run.

A wire trips you and you slam your head onto the floor. You’ve seen far too much darkness today, but apparently that’s not enough.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Nothing happened last night. That’s not usually the first thought when you wake up. Usually it’s brushing your teeth or needing to relieve yourself. But no, you realize, nothing happened last night. Must’ve been a great night. Annie or whoever it was.

There it is. Overconfidence leads to overt drinking which leads to memories being deleted. Or rather, you remember reading they aren’t even formed at all. A void in your experiences, inhibited by poison. Damn, really should’ve at least gotten her name or number though.

Number. There’s two of you. Your face misshapes at the perfect replica in your sight. That’s your mirror. Sold that when you moved. Why is it right there exactly where you had it? You almost look younger.

What a weird dream.

The door creaks and the noise hits your ears too well.

A woman in a skimpy nurse outfit. Your very own sleep paralysis demon.

Ah. Nightmare. Realization sets in the form of a dangerously pacing heart, to the point where your sweating and your heat should wake you up.

“My baby boy is sick.” Minji says flatly.

You crawl back up to the headboard, with your dream state not allowing a fight or flight response. “Why the fuck am I here? Where did you take me?”

“Oh no,” she says with scant worry, ”you’ve been hallucinating.”

You sit up but instinctively at a single click of her tongue, you lie back down, remembering something

“Well, I was going to make you cum way more but I thought that it would be better if you’re at home where you belong.“

She points to your left. There’s a pregnancy test on the bed stand. Two lines. That, that doesn’t even make any sense.

When?

How, why, where?

Are you real, is this real, what did i do to deserve this, when did you get in here, can we stop, can i leave, please please please please please please

please

✦✧✦✧✦✧

No limbs free from rope, which extends to wrap your mouth. Your jaw aches being forced open and your screams become a desperate gnawing of the restraint instead. The bedroom has no light save for a red candle that emanates cinnamon.

You forced yourself to like cinnamon for her.

“What… Did I? Do wrong? FUCK,” Minji shouts.

Your cock is just as trapped, the long rope around your extremities continues to create a knot around the base of your shaft.

"You’re doing this to yourself. Just a year ago you would’ve asked for this kind of treatment. Half a year ago, I would’ve too.”

Tsk.

Tsk.

With each click of her mouth, the large blade threatens to pierce skin. A cut on your thigh. One careful, precise. A second, an outlashing of her emotions. She sits on your leg, right on the wound, drooling from her cunt. Your dick shouldn’t be this hard with this treatment.

“But it is, isn’t it?” Minji says, grinding her ass back and forth. “I love feeling your body and your pain.”

Tsk.

This one on your arm, joining its kin of scars. Rope still muffles your languished cries but she almost winces at the high pitch. Blood stains her bra and panties.

Minji looks at your trapped cock as she kneels and takes the knife up to it. For all the suffering she’s inflicted so far, this threat alone sends a shiver throughout your body unlike before. You feel it in your erection. She cuts the rope attached to your dick.

“It looked nice. But it’s getting in the way. Tell me, what girl would give a guy who ghosted them a blowjob?” Once more, the statement alone sends a fire to your dick. “Nobody. Just me. So just focus on me, okay?”

Just as she holds on tightly to her knife, her lips do the same to the head of your cock. Her free hand’s fingers wrap delicately around your shaft before making their way down your balls. No lubrication, no extraneous spit is required, you already knew that from her million previous experiences. Minji would drool anyway having the taste of your flesh on her tongue. The pleasure alone nearly takes away the pain of the open wounds on your leg, but as she takes you all the way down her throat, she pays no attention to her hand grabbing on your bleeding leg.

More saliva but Minji chokes herself anyway with your dick, holding your thighs tighter as she leans a bit further down to take your cock all the way to the bottom. A loud gasp escapes the restrain on your mouth and your legs tense up. It’s incredible how you still have your erection after all the blood loss and it would be incredible the way you’re about to cum, but Minji brings herself up at once. She gives the head a single smooch.

Nothing lasts forever but you don’t want to think about the time that’s passed. The agony you feel in your balls, something like a vice grip paradoxically given by a lack of touch. An indistinguishable mix of her hands, her throat, her lips, all wrapping around your cock and letting go at the perfect moment. Only but a drop of precum spilling as she takes advantage of her knowledge of your body.

A few small bandages with hearts on them doesn’t completely stop the bleeding. She pulls the rope from your mouth. Take deep ragged breaths.

“One hour. That’s fucking nothing compared to the pain you’ve dealt to me. Don’t worry. You’re doing so well baby. Maybe I’ll let you cum if you can answer some questions. Is noona the prettiest noona you’ve ever met?“

Shouldn’t have smiled when you answer yes.

“So there are other girls. Are they younger?”

“No, no! There was no else. I promise. Just you. There really was no ‘Mijin’, I swear to this day, that was an honest mistake.”

“Oh so you remember that? We had an entire halcyon year and a half that’s all you remember? The bad? I can’t win with you. Shut up.” She sighs. “At least you recognize some of your mistakes.”

“Another question. Do you want a baby?” Minji holds the tip in her mouth as she looks at you.

You hesitate. She pops your cock out of her mouth again.

“Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Wrong answer. Don’t you want to be a daddy?”

You lean forward a bit. “I do, I do!”

“That’s right.” She slaps your cock. ”Unfortunately, cheating sluts don’t make good daddies. Going around looking for whores to fuck while your perfect mommy is at home spilling her precious soppy mess while waiting for daddy, her patient and ready womb ready to receive.”

“This is fucking crazy,” you whisper without a thought.

“What’s really fucking crazy is how you just completely slipped away from me. Did noona ever fuck you badly? What did I do? What did I do wrong?”

She can’t be serious. Anything you say will be used against you. The vulture circles you and you’re barely a warm body.

"I guess you don’t wanna talk. Fine. Bad boys get punished anyway, they don’t get to talk until all I hear is the love I deserve.”

She puts the rope around your mouth after taking off her panties and stuffing your mouth with them. They’re gooey and cloying. Can’t admit defeat by taking in the scent but you might just die on the spot. Maybe it’s better for your sanity to do so. Teeth scrape. Her tongue threatens to pull at every fold on your cock and push into your slit. Nothing doesn’t hurt, everything wants to cum.

“Please,” you mumble.

“I know exactly how long it takes for you, baby. Every cute sign, your whimpers and shaking legs. You’re a whore aren’t you? Picking up women at a bar. Slut. Imagine thinking you deserve this pussy. You’re lucky I need this cock.”

Luck. Luck. Fortune. Barely ideas that graze the front of your mind. Minji gets up from her knees and steps into a squat on your stomach. Her weight and the pain yet to reside from your bleeding legs make you want to vomit. She lowers herself onto your erection anyway while taking off her bra and she’s even tighter than before. An errant misfire and she smiles and laughs. The lack of pleasure the orgasm provides ruins you but your dick stays frozen regardless. Your groan comes out more as one of pain and you clench your hands on the rope in the greatest amount of strength you can muster.

“I’m not surprised.” She says before giving her most genuine smile today. One of pride.

It’s not often you’re able to keep your memory of what’s happening to you with the way that Minji hurts you through pleasure and actual pain, but her restriction of the airflow to your lungs with kissing and choking, leaves nothing but scant words in your recall. Her nails dig in again, with no care for your consciousness.

“I should be pregnant. You got so fucking lucky you know. But you should feel luckier with how creamy my pussy is when it’s ovulating. Like right now.”

If only you could control the way your cock and hips both twitch at the thought.

“If only your hands were free, my boobs are so tender and needy.”

Minji massages her tits through her stained bra as she springs up and down on your erection, then decides she should let them bounce freely.

“I’m almost sorry baby boy, I just need to drown something with my juices. If some of your cum is in there, make sure it doesn’t spill out okay?“

At once, she leaves your dick to scrape and grind her pussy on your ruined face but as soon as you can savor the taste, she slides back down to your cock and rolls over so that you’re on top of her.

"Fuck, can’t waste that.” Minji takes some of your previous load spilled on her chest, tasting one drop, and rubs it back in herself as she always does. ”Cum inside me. My tummy is so fluttery. Well, you don’t have a choice but you would, right? Cum inside your noona?”

What a mess. A bloody mess. There’s more rope and some makeshift bandages from cloth to slow down your loss of blood and keep your erection going, but it won’t take away what’s been spilled so far. Despite being on top of her physically, you have no fight left in you. Pump and indulge in her unassailable embrace.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

I love you.

Her dirty talk always made you explode, but of all the words, that fucking L word. Those words spent you before and they use you now, manipulating your cock into believing that it’s not some insane pussy coating it and begging for your cum, but a hole that needs your load to survive.

“Baby, why have you been saving all this cum? Can’t believe those sluts at the bar have the nerve to flirt with a boy who’s taken. I’m gonna take more. Your balls are going to be empty and I’m gonna have quintuplets before you stop creaming me. Even when your dick’s soft and gives up, I’m going to keep making you cum. I don’t care. You’re going to cum for every missing day and I don’t care how long it’ll take.”

Your whole body tightens and Minji doesn’t flinch when you explode considering how messy her pussy is with your cum. Never does she let you rest as she strokes your cheek with one hand, while the other strokes a knife on your neck.

“What’s it going to be? Either you’re going to be a little daddy fuck slave for your noona, or you’re going to be dead. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

You mumble desperately and she finally cuts the rope on your mouth, taking her soaked panties back.

“Hmm?”

“I love you noona. I, really do,” you moan out.

“You’re adorable, you know? I can be too.” Bloody rags in the corner of the room. She kisses you on the cheek before she gets up from her mount on you and pulls out a wedding dress from the closet. “Baby, take my hand. I want you to be my husband,” she sings, swinging the ornate white fabric around and staining it with her hands.

The red stain isn’t as orange as the setting sun on a familiar twilight.

“You there?” She snaps her fingers. Her pussy clamps down on you.

The light reflecting her skin turns into a blur.

The lights disappear.

They

cut.

How many times do I have to do this to drive it home?

I bet you were doing so well. You almost forgot about me. You really almost did, didn’t you? You worked so hard to press restart.

That second world is not for you. That straightforward, simple portrait of a life, where you settle down with that girl you met at that bar, have two kids, retire and die.

It’s not like our story wasn’t a simple one too. You just had to go and break it. No matter how you want to tell it, that first you? It’s mine.

Your body. Your thoughts, your feelings, everything you want and need. That cock. The addicting salty musk of your cum. Your nails, that bump on your shoulder blade. Your new nose twisting at a new angle I’ll have to learn. Your house, my house, ours. Our baby. It’s all for me.

Her desperate ramblings into your ear might be hallucinations because she looks so rapt with lust riding you that she couldn’t possibly be forming cohesive words, but either way, her tongue licks the folds of your earlobe before it finds its way inside. Of all the overt trauma, the subtly disquieting intrusion forces a tear and one last moment of awareness out of you.

You shoot more of your load than ever inside of her.

Again.

again.

again

1 more 1 more 1 more 1 more 1 more 1 more

1 more

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“Aww, baby. You look so confused. This wasn’t the first time you know. You can’t even tell me where you were last week, can you? Aren’t you happy? Daddy? You should be, your sperm is nice and healthy. After all those times, it finally happened.”

:)

Minji drops down to sit on your chest—yep, she’s as always wet as you remember. Why is that your first thought—

i think you know why.

A video plays on her phone and your heart drops even further. It’s an awkward angle, but what happens is clear to anyone who isn’t you or Minji. The camera shakes a little when you slam the unlocked door open, shifting its view such that it nearly misses the action. If only. Her screams die out as you wrap your hands firmly around her neck and pull rope out of your pocket to gag and restrain her. Minji lays prone on the floor with her hands and legs tied and tries to wriggle her way out but you return to the living area after locking the door. By now the phone must have fallen over with the shaking but her cries of No! Stop it! are clear. Not a single person would mistake it as the roleplay that she brought up.

“Always keep as much evidence as you can.”

She slides through pictures of cuts and bruises on her with a proud smile.

“Would I really do that to myself? Of course you don’t remember. Well… I don’t like ultimatums, especially not with my baby boy. But we can pretend like you had to move back for work. Or we can pretend like you disappeared. Or we can make that not pretend if you really prefer.“

A plate upon a shelf falls.

Crack.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

✦✧✦✧✦✧

✦✧✦✧✦✧

✦✧✦✧✦✧

✦✧✦✧✦✧

✦✧✦✧✦✧

✦✧✦✧✦✧

"You’re fucking dead.”

A small tremble in your hands.

The wood blocks lose their footing.

You push delicately but the tower crumbles.

Are you… crying?

Ante ft. Taeyeon

There might be a little too much powder this time as the myriad particles suspended in mid-air forces tears from your eyes. Your enclosed bedroom smells like you’re ready to take on a battalion of redcoats or perform the 1812 Overture. An absolute litany of preparation and it’s all worthwhile. Your heart pulses apace. First of all, you don’t want the neighbor to start complaining about the strong smell—maybe suspecting you of crafting homemade ammunition or the like—but secondly, if the spellbook really works as it says it does, you’re about to have sex for the first time. Not only that, but even though you’re pretty much guaranteed to summon someone with experience, the suspense of not knowing who excites you further. The book says that the circle of sulfur combined with all the different aspects of the ritual is sufficient to bring a succubus to this world safely, without needing to uphold any outlandish ancient contracts. However, it’s quite a song and dance. The dance part is especially difficult for you as dark magic’s been quite picky about the precision of your gestures.

Fortunately, pork blood makes a fine substitute.

“...ennil, torril, prano,” you say the nonsense words with a bit of flair, “Kyat.”

As you utter the final word and relax your arms, the sound of waves crashing in the distance converge with magical twinking to a distinct single point on the circle. Finally, it worked.

“The contract from below has been sealed,” a voice from within your head says, not in English but you understand it as so when you pass out from the crippling jolt of the intrusion into your consciousness.

In the blackness of your stupor, the melodic chimes subside to water, crackling and clashing louder.

Then, a tsunami hits—or at least its deafening roar does—yanking you awake. You gasp and search for your breath as though you were truly underwater. Confusion grows in your eyebrows as you bestir yourself. Your exact fears came true, though if they did, it’s odd that Taeyeon would barge all the way to your bedroom to complain. In fact, she managed to get all the way to the summoning circle before fainting in its center. It’s inconsiderate but you appreciate that she’s still out, considering your apartment isn’t nearly as clean as hers next door. Other than the time you returned her mail to her, you’ve only seen her living room in glimpses, but it has much less clutter. Your first idea is to put away all your manga and Lego architecture before she wakes up but you realize you should probably put your priorities straight instead and bring her straight home. Hopefully she left the door unlocked.

What an interesting outfit to wear this late at night with the floral quilt robe, the silk tank top with matching roses and red leather skirt. Maybe she just got home from the club. Regardless of why she’s wearing it, she looks so insanely hot especially with those braided pigtails, that you imagine what if she’s... 

No, you have to maintain some sort of decency—even if you were trying to beckon a demon for sex. At the very least, it’d be a lot harder to get all the way to the end of your shift at two A.M. without the chance of seeing that flawless yet friendly smile, though jail is more likely if you follow through with l'appel du vide.

A faint scent of sweetness and mushrooms draws you closer to her. For a moment in your head, you want to take a peek underneath her skirt, or steal a kiss from her vibrant rosy lips. Even as a man who resorts to the dark arts to get your dick wet, you're not usually thirsty enough to stoop so low. When your fingers graze the skin of her legs as you try to carry her, she glows like lava and is as hot to the touch.

“Ah!” Your hand darts away and you suck on your finger before you realize there's no physical burn. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, did I mess up the ritual?"

"Should’ve known by the smell. Figures." You swing your head around looking for the source of the voice but find nothing. It sounds vaguely like Taeyeon but you discard the idea as you watch her lie motionless in her sleep. Managing to hold her without touching her apparently blazing skin, as soon as you try to bring her out of the circle, a translucent yellow wall extending upwards from the sulfur stops only her body.

Kick the sulfur out of the way in another stubborn attempt at rescue. Despite dispersing the powder and making a mess of your hardwood, your second attempt at carrying her fails worse.

"Ow!" Taeyeon exclaims while her eyes slowly open. She takes all effort to move her hand to her head to soothe the bump, but becomes limp. Set her down on the floor very carefully. She inhales and exhales at a careful pace and your breathing follows. “Alive. We’re alive. Thank you, thank you.”

“No, this is my fault. I’m so sorry.”

Her right arm shakes and her hand jitters as she reaches up for yours. “Please help me.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t, I’m not sure what to do. Hold on.” Get up and scramble for the book.

“Actually, I— I know how to fix this.”

Your head turns, confused as to why she’d know anything about the occult. “You do?”

“Come here.” Kneel next to her, sweating because of both the heat in the room and the precarious situation you’re in. “Closer. The only way you can help is if we cum at the same time,” she whispers in your ear, heating it up with her warm voice.

“Huh?” You pull back.

“There’s someone, another voice in my head. I’m trying to resist but she says there’s no point, it’s the only way for all of us to get out.”

You gulp. “I can’t. This feels wrong. You just said you’re trying to resist.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind if it’s you.” Taeyeon's words reassure you though her tone is unnaturally seductive.

Your chest burns but you bring your mind back to rational thought. “That’s not you. It can’t be.” 

Although Taeyeon’s body lays frozen in the circle, her face seems to relax even more. “Look at me. I swear, this is me talking. Be more confident in yourself. You’re more than good enough for me.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. I can… h-help you just fine. Maybe not just fine.” Your hands retreat to your lap and you sigh. “This is my first time. I don’t know if I can make you cum like that. Or even how.”

“Just do your best, whatever's natural for you, plus I can guide you too. Take my hand.”

Her fingers and palm are unusually hot, but it’s more bearable than when she was asleep. Already, you feel a bit tired, probably because of the nerves of losing your virginity to your neighbor and having to fulfill this challenge at the same time. Get on top of her though the angle feels awkward for you to maintain. One of your hands clasps with hers while the other pushes against the floor to hold you up. Not only do you not want to crush her but you also want to see her face. You want to be sure she isn't distressed by the circumstances.

“Is it okay if I kiss you first? If, if we make out first, maybe it’ll be easier for me to, like get it up and...” you say, though there’s no question you’re hard enough already at the sight of your neighbor lying beneath you, ready to receive.

“Please. Don’t feel bad.” Taeyeon blushes. “I promise. I’ve kinda wanted this.”

Her demure tone makes you not care who’s talking. Pull her skirt up to her waist. No panties. You didn’t know she had that side to her. Forgot to ask if it was okay to pull down her top as well but she doesn’t seem to mind. Your lips crash and teeth bump while you take off your sweatpants and boxers,  then you poke and prod the tip of your cock in the general vicinity of her lower thighs before eventually finding that hole. It’s incredible how precise you have to be and as you carefully probe deeper and deeper, you finally grasp just how much she grasps you. Taeyeon closes her eyes at your dick finding itself as far as it can go.

You refuse to breathe, keeping your lips seated on hers. As you extract your length, her moans come out more as vibrations on your kiss. Already, you notice the most subdued pulse on your cock and a bit of semen spills out into her. The idea of protection is far past you at this point. Push and pull and push, you replicate the motions that make her react as best as you can. 

However, despite finding a basic rhythm for you to buck your hips, you can’t ignore some sense of incompleteness within you. It’s certainly not disappointment since even being with a woman like Taeyeon is more than enough for you. Maybe she isn’t wet enough, or your dick isn’t hard enough. It takes a lot of playing around before realizing your first mistake; you’re pretty much laying on top of her which gives you no leverage to hit her more sensitive spots. Push hard against the ground to give yourself more space and find the best angle for your erection. 

“Angh,” Taeyeon gives the cutest little squeak. There it is. She needs something a little more. When you kiss her again, this time with your tongue tasting the perplexing sweetness of her saliva, either your dick gets harder or Taeyeon clenches tighter around you. In any case, your length becomes a bit more drenched with every insertion.

“Taeyeon, I’m gonna go faster, if you don’t mind.”

“Mmm, yeess,” Taeyeon groans out and you grunt in response, holding her hand tightly and pushing down on it with force when you fuck her with more intensity. 

So that’s the secret. Fondle her more, and go from grabbing her tits underneath her loose top, to pinning her wrists as though she hasn’t already submitted wholly to you. With enough puissance in your squeezing and holding, Taeyeon refuses to be separated from your cock as her pussy lips disregard its newfound lubrication by gripping your shaft.

Taeyeon pulls away from your kiss and for a second, you think you’ve made a mistake. She takes a breath, looks down at your cock going in and out before looking back up at you. “There you go. You’re learning. Nngh, this is the best way to learn, isn’t it? It’s like fucking your own little sex doll.”

“Huh?” you say, confused at her sudden lucidity only slowing the pistoning a little bit.

“I know that’s exactly what you want. You’ve always wanted to hold me down and pound into my tiny pussy like there’s no tomorrow, mhmmm.”

Your breaths become ragged at her words and you watch her pliable body lay still with her robe beneath her, only moving when her tits jiggle the slightest at each stroke of your cock. “I didn't think you could talk like that.”

“Woah, that wasn’t me.”

You stop immediately.

“No, keep going, keep going, I think I’m getting a little closer.” You don’t think for a second and comply, resuming your cadence. ”Ahh, that’s it. What I meant—fuck, mmh, what I meant was, I didn't think I could say that either. The voice, it's giving me ideas. I kinda like them though.”

”M-me too. It’s just, it’s not that I mind, but… fuck. If you talk dirty like that, I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

While on the outside, she looks like she’s as stationary as she can be, her insides clutch and massage your dick actively. “Well, come here, kiss me again. Maybe my lips can distract you.”

So you return to kissing her, taking in every breath of air she gives. Her mouth is even more addicting with saltiness, maybe a hint of spice, complexifying her flavor and inviting your tongue to explore further.

“Mwah. I know you feel bad but if you want, maybe you can think of me as just a gloryhole or sex toy that happens to be attached to my body.”

“That doesn’t help.” Kiss her neck, drawing a sharp high noise from her. In selfishness, you forget about your mission for a moment and let go of your inhibitions, almost battering into your personal fuck doll. Can’t cum yet. Bend your neck up and look at your clock to stave off your looming end. Maybe it stopped working, or maybe only a few minutes really did pass. Either way, your focus breaks as Taeyeon wraps her legs around yours.

That’s when you realize, with every little spurt of your cum inside, her enthusiasm grows.  Her tits threaten to spill from her top, her legs slowly wrap around yours and her face expresses more bliss. Hopefully this means she’s getting closer to her climax. Grit your teeth but every deliberate thought to distract yourself is ripped away when the tip of Taeyeon’s tongue sticks out and her pupils roll back. She realizes her overt satiation and cools down, closing her eyelids. She grabs your neck and the two of you are as close as two humans can get to each other. 

“The voice in my head says even if you finish first,” her voice becomes lower as she purrs in your ear, “we can keep doing this until we cum at the same time.”

As much as you tried holding back the rippling warmth, a wave washes over you at once and your body tenses, releases then explodes. Your name rings in your head over and over again, again in that incomprehensible language. It’s deep, both in pitch and in how it burrows your brain like itching an ardent scratch. Taeyeon’s feet are crossed behind your legs which restrains you, though you wouldn’t dare pull out as you shoot your cum inside of her since your cock is tender to even modest movement. Despite being underneath you, she grinds her hips desperately against you and pulls your hair to kiss you.

“Nngh,” Taeyeon says in your mouth. “please, please, please. Fuck.” 

Your body freezes when a bitterness inside you swells. There’s an urge for you to shiver as though you had a fever, but still, your body doesn’t let you move. Is this what cumming inside feels like? It’s going to be awkward explaining this to Taeyeon if she forgets the whole experience and returns to her normal self, though that would be much better than her remembering. The chilliness subsides and you unwind your muscles. You almost fall on top of her but you manage to roll her around so that she lays on top of you. 

Taeyeon hasn’t opened her eyes. You’d ask but she looks both exhausted and ready to go again. Maybe a little embarrassed as well. Rest for a moment. You would pull your dick out, but it’s so sensitive that you thrust all the way back inside mixing her wetness with your cum. As soon as your erection softens, it returns even harder, cognizant to the tightness that hasn’t gone away. You want to keep going but she interrupts, taking your shoulder and pulling you to your side while she turns her back towards you.

“Can you help me take off this robe? It’s really hot in here. I didn’t cum but for some reason I feel a little better and it seems like you are too with how quickly your dick became hard. Fuck me again.” She bends her arms back, pressing her tits down on you and you remove her sleeves one by one, throwing the loose-fitting garment to the side of the room. After complying with her former request, she sticks her ass back and wiggles it, and you’re bound to follow through with the latter.

Your erection slides smoothly between Taeyeon’s thighs, now slick with her spilt fluids, and you enjoy the pressure that her lithe legs give to you by stroking up and down. However, as soon as your shaft hits her pussy, it tingles. Trapped in her squirming legs and already feeling the hints of a second climax imminent, you hasten your cock’s entrance into her slit.

“Woah, ppphh,” you breathe out and Taeyeon joins in a similar exaltation of pleasure. With only the slightest movement, you notice the sensitivity of your cock reach new heights.

“I’m sorry I’m so tight. You got me so close last time.”

“Don’t apologize,” you say. Grab her hands behind her. “Like you said, we have all the time in the world.”

Her ass reverses, sinking your cock deeper with speed as though there were no time left. “Yes!”

You reverse too, watching your shaft exit from beneath her ass, lustrous with her girl cum but you only get so far until the flesh of her lips reject your cock’s escape. So you return deep inside of her and find a comfortable pace in your plunging, your hips rocking forward and back. “I wish I could fuck you forever, mmmm, or at least cum as many times as I want. This is impossible.”

“Ahh, agh, god, fuck, dammit, more, more!” Taeyeon exclaims and bounces her ass back with every vigorous entrance. Her oscillations against your cock lose their  timing when she slows down. “Let go of my hands.” 

You listen, then she takes one of your hands to place it on her neck. It rests there, unsure of what to do.

It’s fortunate she’s able to vocalize herself more. “Please, choke me. Choke your sex doll. It’s okay, I’m just a toy, toys don’t need to breathe.”

Her neck is small, which is why you hold her throat gently at first despite her perverse suggestion. However, as you thrust into her, you instinctively squeeze tighter like your hands were empathic to her cunt’s hold on you. Taeyeon’s breath becomes short, and any irresolution you have vanishes when she reaches down to rub her clit. You picture a smile on her face with how fervently her fingers work on her pussy. You fantasize that she fantasizes the same as you, your grasp playing with the thought of her passing out again. You imagine her gurgles and breathless sounds are profanities, maybe words of gratitude and pleasure, or even just your name repeated over and over again, though the most she manages to vocalize is a raspy “soo… good...” 

Each time you feel a pulse within you, she squeezes your dick like she has full control of her inner muscles, which causes the cylinder trapping you to become more opaque. Taeyeon's insides start to feel less like perfectly plush flesh holding your dick and more like a malleable toy with different shapes and textures. Her labia is like a tight ring choking the base of your shaft, her walls tickle your erection with coarse waves, and a firm bump deeper within teases underneath your tip. Attacking every point possible with arousal, your hand loosens its grip on her neck.

“What the fuck. Is that how a pussy usually feels?”

“Mmm, maybe it’s just mine since I’m so close to cumming. You don’t like it?”

To answer her question, you hug her tightly and hammer into her. Every thrust is in time with her fingers playing with her pussy, her writhing ass backing into you with sweat bouncing off with every clash, and your body tensing with ripples coming and going until you hear Taeyeon’s loud cries.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming, cum for me, cum for your slutty succubus!” No ounce of confusion could prevent you from climaxing, unleashing endless strings of cum from your delicate tip deep within her. 

Open your eyes while still working through your orgasm and you see that for all the semen you unload into her, she squirts as much onto your dick, your waist and all over the floor. The room smells like a tantalizing musk mixed with the scents of a garden.

She turns around to cuddle you. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” her voice says, with each repetition sounding less like it comes from her mouth and more like it’s from inside your head. It’s not possible to process everything that has and is happening to you, which is why even when she turns around to face you, you don’t notice her eyes glowing red until it's too late.

A single wave. The ocean in the distance turns out to be a sea of fire and lava.

Taeyeon tilts her head forward, smiling at you, and brings her fingers down to her filled pussy. The smallest drop of your load makes her fingertips slick, which she brings to her mouth. Taeyeon sucks and moans in dissolute pleasure. “Fresh virgin semen. So fucking yummy. Been a while since I had this.”

Your ribs hurt at the pressure of laying on your side as you stare up at her. Back up to the wall of the yellow cylinder. What was once a penetrable barrier for you now makes a solid enclosure. You're an exhibit at the zoo.

She stands up and floats, growing a prehensile red tail, and when she motions the fallen robe to come hither, it flies to her arms. Taeyeon bends down to rest her palm on the side of your face. “What a nice circle.”

“Thanks. They, um, don’t make compasses that big. Haha.” There’s an insincere glint in your laugh, though your dejection is genuine when you look down. “But, Taeyeon. Were you faking all that?”

“No, no, sweetie. You’ve just put me in a pretty unique situation. I’m assuming this is your first time summoning a supernatural creature.”

You nod.

“I knew it. Fun fact, you’re most likely to summon the eligible being closest to you. Should’ve figured it’d be you some day. Unfortunately, you seem to have fucked up a bit. For one, I was sleeping,” Taeyeon says as she stretches her arms upward, then downwards while crossing them, pushing her tits together.

Maintaining eye contact doesn’t help. “You sleep in that outfit?”

“Well no, I was sleeping in a big t-shirt.”

Examine her up and down. “Can’t say I expected either of those from a succubus.”

“Hey, it’s not like we all have horns or wear bondage gear all the time!” Taeyeon says. “More saliently, that old spell that you used pulled me out of the dream I was visiting. Really fucks up my powers. Plus, travelling dimensions is almost as bad as American Airlines!”

“Shit. Am, am I gonna lose my soul?”

"What, never flew American?" She laughs before her tone turns dour. “Not yet. Though you’ve already given a part of it when you came inside of me.”

Your mouth widens and you fidget your fingers running the possibilities through your head, whether you should plead for a lifetime, live amongst monks or sign a blood pact. Anything. You'll take anything to live.

Taeyeon shakes her head. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, but that’s not a summoning circle like it says in your silly little book. The ritual to procure me doesn’t need it, rather it prevents me from leaving the circle and you from losing your soul permanently. You were missing one important part of the ritual though.”

“What?”

“A condom. Well, there’s also plenty of magic to make your seed unfruitful for a day. A lot of horny motherfuckers who want to cum inside the tightest pussy they’ll ever experience. I get it.”

Clench your hands. Of course those torn pages would come back to bite you.

“Don’t feel bad. Thanks for all the extra energy.” 

Taeyeon looks to the ceiling which disappears to the sight of the night sky despite all the residences upstairs. A circle, gargantuan compared to yours, forms against the starry backdrop with runes or whatever symbols surrounding a seal emanating royal strength. A single finger from Taeyeon points downwards, and like your ceiling, your floor disappears. This is the part of the dream where you fall from a great height and return to the land of the living with a startling jump. Instead, a Stygian chain rises from the earth while a beam of blinding light descends directly above you. As the beam approaches, the chain shoots up to the circle, scattering the white light into versicolor rays. The towering seal tilts and the color disappears as the beam reflects back to where it came from.

One star is extinguished. 

As your floor and ceiling materialize, Taeyeon collapses but awakens quickly, balancing on her tail while sitting up.

"What the fuck just happened," you say catatonically.

She reaches out and you realize the second hand of the clock has yet to move a millimeter as her arm stretches slowly. The yellow cylinder bends inwards. A brief silence and you waver when none of your instincts attempt to aid you in any fashion, then the artificial chamber explodes, shattering the windows and knocking everything in the room down. Your bookshelf, your desk, even the bed is overturned. You’re swept off your feet and onto your coccyx. Somehow with all that force, there’s no car alarms going off and the high-rise building still stands. 

“Ahhh!—”

Your scream is cut off when the air in the room disappears. Hold your breath before covering your mouth with your hands. Your entire skin tightens and your whole body swells as you shiver and feel your bareness in the coldness of the vacuum, drawing sweat off you. Taeyeon mouths profanity. 

What is only an instant feels like forever, though somehow time is even more pliable than you remember when the shards of glass whip back into place, rebuilding the window, and your room becomes exactly as it was sans a circle of sulfur. Hold your breath and with a loud whoosh, the atmospheric pressure returns.

You’re still shaking at the havoc, sitting with your hands behind you. “Fuck, goddammit, holy shit. That was scary. I don't understand, holy fuck, I shouldn't have done this at all. Please don’t tell me the world’s over.” 

“Whoops." She puts her hand on her side, malapropos to the gravity of the damage. "I’m so sorry cutie. Any booboos you want me to kiss better?”

Taeyeon just wrought heaven and hell and it's nothing but a booboo to her. 

"Nah, that's nothing. Wouldn't have even woken up the baby downstairs."

"Really? That kid cries if a mouse trips on a banana peel in my apartment." 

Taeyeon smiles and you nearly throw away questions of the past minute at its brightness. Your face stiffens. She glides right in front of you, bending down and putting her hands on her knees. Stare instinctively at her tits peeking from her dress top and she smirks as she pulls the top back up.

“Don’t worry. It could be worse. You’re lucky I have good reflexes or you would probably be goop.”

Possibly hopped up on adrenaline, you remember the important question and have the nerve to talk back to the calamitous being. “Did you have to do that?”

“Depends if you ever want your soul back. That ritual you used only summons me for a little while, so if I just disappeared while your circle was still working, I would’ve been stuck in my dream forever and you would’ve never gotten your soul back. Next time, I'd avoid tech from the Tudors.” She looks into your tense eyes and pouts. ”Relax, it’s all fine now. ”

A sign of relief from deep within, but your breath hitches again. “So, where is it? My soul?”

"Ahh. Well, almost all fine. "Taeyeon untucks her top from her skirt and pulls it up, revealing her toned midriff, then points to a penny-sized marking below her left breast. “Right here. See, I can keep a lot of these, but they tend to fade away. Only the one on my heart lasts forever.”

“Please, is there anything I can do?” you say on your knees, which is a bit awkward with both of you kneeling.

Taeyeon stands. “How about a bet? We could make this a win-win scenario.”

“D-depends.”

She strokes her chin. “Hmm. Here's a classic. You have to last as long as you can without cumming. If you hold out for enough time, I’ll give you back your soul and return to the dream. If you lose by cumming, then your soul will be stuck indelibly on this body since the circle is broken.”

“How is that a win-win?”

“Well, as long as the mark is on me, you can fuck me whenever you want, however you want...”

“But I still fade away.”

“Mhm. I do get all of your mortal power though.”

“Well thanks. Fuck. I really don’t think I can last that long. Can’t you just wait to return?”

“I don’t have a spare key and I’m not going to the apartment admin with my tail like this. Also, maybe I'm risking this life returning my soul to you? Never done this exact thing. More importantly, I'm a succubus! I can’t just wait around with a cutie like you.”

“That’s not right.”

“Remember.” Her voice darkens for a moment. “This is your fault. You put us in this mess.”

The air in the room is even harder to breathe than when you were creating the circle. Put your hands up and she sits down next to you to speak into your ear.

“I already got a taste of your cum. It's literally impossible for me to hold back. Besides, you know what it’s like to use me and that was with barely any of my power. I could make your every forbidden desire come true, and then some. You could spill your seed inside all of my holes while I pleasure your entire body using my centuries of knowledge and experience. Then, we could do it all again without needing a moment of respite. But most of all, I know you just don’t want this night to end. Sure, I could transform myself to that coworker you had a crush, that bully you need to fuck your anger into..."

Hold your surprise in how scarily accurate her hypotheticals are. There are no coincidences in a world where you can beckon a demonic creature sex.

She blows a puff of hot air into your ear. "I don't need to be a mind reader to know that all you want is me.”

How little control you truly have though. Her gaze is like a painkiller you should’ve stopped taking sooner. The better part of you knows you should argue, or try to do anything to get out of this. 

Taeyeon runs her fingers through her hair and points. “Move that chair to the middle of the room. Nice one by the way. Maybe later, you can tell me where you got that.”

Though the worse part wins when not you, but your reflexes pull the leather chair to the circle. A bit of sulfur drags along the wheels. Sit.

“Anyway, I’ll go easy on you because you’re such a cutie. Then again, you’re not a virgin anymore, so maybe you can handle a little more. This'll be a bit different though. I won’t touch that aching… wand just yet.”

She leans down to kiss your right cheek. 

“That isn’t that bad, is it? Not enough to make you cum at least,” Taeyeon says impishly, befitting her wagging tail.

Her lips are dewy as you expect from their glossiness, planting kisses on your cheeks and nose. Your eyes notice how close her nipples are to slipping out of her flowery top when her tail brushes your toes. You giggle and she does too. 

“Aww. Whoops. I can tell you really like them. They’re not the biggest succubus tits but they’re just perky enough to play with and just the right shape to stick your cock between, or you can slap them with your dick too. Mark them as yours if your soul isn't doing a pretty enough job."

You let out a slight groan and a bead of sweat at the idea, while Taeyeon’s tongue licks up the contour of your jaw.

“We don’t want you to lose too early though.” Taeyeon gets up to walk towards your bed and you sigh in naive relief, believing for a moment that she’s giving your erection a needed timeout. She bends over on your mattress and slowly slides her dark red skirt out of the way, shimmying and shaking as the leather is snug on her ass and catches on her tail. “The way you’re staring down my shirt means I’m sure you’re not an ass man.”

“What if I’m neither?” Admitting too much of your weakness could prove a fatal error, but truthfully, you’re both when you look at Taeyeon’s willowy body.

“Aww. Let me get on your thighs now that my stupid skirt isn’t in the way.”

Your cock grows as she starts leaking onto your legs, lacquering it with her girl cum when she grinds back and forth.

“Be careful with that thing, sweetie. You definitely don’t want that thing to slip inside of me, right? You already know how my soaking wet pussy can siphon every drop of cum from you. That’s with none of my power. If it slips in now, my tight little hole might never let go. Plus you were doing a great job learning how to fuck, but trust me, I can ride you like there’s no tomorrow.”

Taeyeon starts kissing lower on your face until she reaches your neck, tickling you a bit with vibration. Her boobs wedge against your chest and when she notices your reaction to their softness, she rips off your shirt with a smirk and no sweat. Your breath catches, not for the desecration of your clothing, but for the dainty pink nipples pressing into yours as she nibbles away. "Taeyeonnn," you stretch out in moans as idle hands take action, wandering towards her ass before her tail slaps it away. 

“Mmmm, mhmmm. No touching.” Her fingers reach down between her legs and even the slight brush of her slick against your hand sends paralyzing electricity. “It’ll get too slippery for your own safety. There is a whole nother hole you could, with its own twists and turns. Countries have fallen for a taste of my ass. But there is one more I haven’t mentioned.” 

You flutter when Taeyeon sucks down hard on your nipples before licking back up to your neck and giving it a quick smooch. Purple marks your sensitive skin bigger than your soul.

“That’s ‘cause it’s doing the mentioning. I might be an entity of lust but everyone tells me I’m too proud of my mouth.”

“I can tell by how much you talk.”

“Oh? So you want to shut me up then.” Taeyeon slinks down to her knees. It should’ve been obvious what defiance to the ravenous creature would get you.

“Uh, ah, I don’t know if this is even fair.”

“What’s not fair is giving my greedy pussy two tastes of your delicious seed while my tongue’s barely gotten a lick of your cum.”

Taeyeon slowly approaches from underneath you, looking at you with big eyes and blinking as though she needed any permission to go closer. The tip of her tongue taps against each of your balls one by one before she begins licking around the bottom of your shaft. She goes part of the way up before coming back down, repeating a few times until eventually her tongue rests beneath the tip of your dick. One of her hands is on her thighs, wandering closer to that cursed vagina, while the other is on your legs, keeping you from standing with little effort. Her tail swipes from side to side as she smells you and takes in more of your flavor.

"Oh no. This is bad," she says sarcastically, "Your cock tastes too fucking good. You know what else tastes good? Ahhh.”

Your cock is set aflame at the globule of her spit after it pools on her lips and drips down. You don’t remember it being this big. That’s definitely magic.

“Don’t worry cutie, I love your cock but—” 

Your soul or your pleasure. Your reflexes make the right choice for you when Taeyeon’s lips hastily find their way to the bottom of your shaft, and you look straight at the ceiling, avoiding contact from her pleading watery eyes. The lightbulb looks like the sun. Close your eyes. 

You thought if there were one saving grace for your salvation, it would be that you could endure her blowjob longer than her pussy built like a custom fleshlight.

Choking and gasping sounds lead to more of her stimulating spit spilling from her mouth as she slowly brings her head back up. Only one eye is open to look at her and her curling tail, while the other eyelid is shut at the intense textures of her gagging throat and tongue kneading your erection.

So you thought wrong. Par for the course by now.

Taeyeon coughs. “I love choking on something big too.”

“I didn’t know—” Learn your lesson. Stop talking back, especially at your volition. You tuck your lips but it’s too late.

“That succubi had gag reflexes? It’s all for effect.”

She effortly glides down your dick at her second pass and your hand smacks the arm of the chair. Taeyeon would make a bad referee with how she ignores you tapping out. It’s all up to luck or God if you’d cum right away, though God certainly has no place in this bedroom. You hold tight as she turns her head and finds an angle to go an inch deeper, making the tip of your cock hit far past anatomy you understood. Taeyeon bobs her head to take your dick in and out while keeping her lips wrapped around the base of your shaft.

"Mmm," she vibrates her swathing lips with moans and it resonates down to her chest. As Taeyeon unsheathes your cock from her throat once again, she stops halfway and widens her jaw to talk. “There’s... ahhh, a wot of stuff I can do foh effect.”

Her attempt at human language creates a ripple effect of pleasure that she must have had decades to perfect. The sound of a woman so focused on keeping your dick in her mouth that she doesn’t care makes your cock twitch, which makes her salivate even more, which makes your cock twitch again. When she brings her lips higher up your shaft, her fingers join to tickle your balls and wrap around the bottom of your erection, then her thin tail does the same. It’s warmer and smoother than her fingers and when it gets slick with her spit, it squeezes not enough to make you cum, but just enough to coax louder and louder cries of pleasure from you. You’d be worried about the neighbors hearing. 

She doesn’t look too worried herself.

After letting your erection free with a pop, Taeyeon takes her hand from your leg and rests her cheek on it. “Hmm. I could just keep giving you the best blowjob a human could possibly give, since I’m sure you like the sound of me struggling to talk with your cock in my mouth, but...”

This time when Taeyeon swallows your dick, her words aren't just sloppy gibberish.

“I can do so much more.” She purrs in your head, giving it a deeply satisfying massage. You look at the scalp massager on your desk. It just lost its job. ”You seem so focused on not losing and I wanted to show off a bit more. You know, pride and all. How does this feel?” 

The logical part of your brain watches her lips twist and slither, up and down, it feels the erection occluding her vocal cords, it hears the slurping noises she makes with all the spit from her profilgate salivary glands, yet you still can’t believe the words sent straight to your head. 

“Uhhhh, I don’t, ugh, fuck, know.” You let out a throaty groan.

“You can just say good,” she whispers, still inches down and filling the room with wet gagging and moaning. 

Try to turn your head away but her tail holds your chin steady while she maintains her erotic stare.

“Don’t worry sweetie. Fill my mouth whenever you’re ready. You’ve been so lazy just sitting there. Take these fuck handles,” Taeyeon pulls her pigtails to show them off, ”And pound into my cum hole of a face. You can pump and thrust at the pace you want, you could feel how my lips and throat tighten as you use me without holding back, you could let your cock throb and explode as you pour all your delectable cum into my tummy. Please. Don't fight it cutie-pie. Succumb to your succubus. Do you think my mouth's ever gonna let go until you cum?”

Hold your breath as a single pulse threatens to end your existence after death. 

"Just kidding! See, I love playing with my food. At the end of the day though, naughty girls have to clean up." 

Taeyeon sucks up all the saliva as she slides up your tender length. She blows bubbles of spit, then sticks her tongue out to let the mouth-produced lube fall into her cleavage. Her hands hold her tits together while her tail wraps around your frenulum and slowly strokes downwards as she leans in closer. Taeyeon rubs your cock against her chest, slathering it even wetter, then you smack your cock against her adorable breasts and leave obvious redness on her flesh. Strings of her saliva between her lips fall apart when she sticks her tongue out to take your dick as deep as she can again. 

“I can make my spit warm too,” she says telepathically amongst sounds of “Glk, glk, ghk.”

The warmth makes her already heated throat feel more like her blazing pussy, causing your dick to fuck her face almost entirely under its own locomotion.

“I can make it a bit cold,” Taeyeon says as she swirls her tongue around the tip of your cock

Your legs kick forward at the contrast in temperature. 

“And I can suck it all up.” She wipes up the side of your shaft with her fingers and licks the spit off. 

An endless amount of arousal and it’s when she blows on your cockhead that your cock gives another singular throb. 

“Oh! Is that precum? Well that doesn’t count but,” she takes her finger to your leaking slit, “when a succubus gets a taste… She won’t give up until there’s nothing left.”

Taeyeon’s suckling of her fingers gives you nostalgia for mere minutes ago. Her nails tap along your shaft, her fingertips rub underneath your dick’s tip and as she brings her tail up your torso, its pointy end pokes at your nipples.

“Maybe that could be a good compromise. You won’t lose and I get to drink all of your cum.” She kisses in between your balls. “I just have to slowly, mwah, very slowly urge each drop out of you.”

Moan in pure agony. 

She looks at her watchless wrist to make a point.  “Ahh, right. We don’t have time for that. Here. How about this instead?”

Her tail retreats to her behind for a moment as her kisses find their way up your length, leaving pretty red marks despite all the saliva coating it. Her prehensile limb grabs your wrists and forces them towards her pigtails. You don’t move and Taeyeon pouts on your cockhead. You know exactly what she wants from you. Still bound by her tail, grab her hair and bend your hips slowly forward, bringing you closer to the end of the seat. One stroke, two, then a third, but your speed is not enough. Her tail grabs tighter and you clench your teeth using her throat as a personal pocket pussy. For all the talk about letting you set your own rhythm, in a way, she’s fucking her own face onto your cock. Then again, it’s not like Taeyeon forced you to pull her hair as tight as you do.

“Please, this is so good, fuck. I’m so close. But I don’t want to lose my soul,” you say desperately.

With all the tension in your body, you think about everything you’ve accomplished in life up until now and you think about how it’d all go to waste if you climax now.

“Is it a waste? Isn’t this your goal?” Taeyeon asks straight to your mind while nursing on your erection. Of course, she’s been in there the whole time.

Despite the unbearable buzz on your cock and your entire body, watching the bulge in Taeyeon’s throat grow and shrink, you hold back with all the resolve you can muster. This isn’t the goal. There’s so much more for you to do.

Waves crash in the distance. Taeyeon slowly brings your length out of her throat.

Finally, you hear her true voice again. “Hear that? That’s the spell beckoning me. Imagine if you don’t even get to cum once down my throat. I better hurry.”

The waves intensify until they almost overpower the wet sounds of her dedicated sucking, but the noise can’t drown out her telepathic communication. 

“You’re right there on the edge, sweetie. I feel your balls tightening,” she says as she gently grabs them. Her tongue feels like it’s licking all the way up and down your shaft, even when your dick is as deep as it goes in her throat. “Let me have it. Please, your slutty fucking succubus wants every drop, every last tasty ounce of your delicious sperm. That’s right, I feel it coming. Cum, cum, cum all the way down my throat, cum for me!”

A final wave crashes and a light arpeggio resonates the room. Your breathing is heavy while Taeyeon’s is nonexistent, refusing to relinquish your cock from her mouth and letting it release everything in your balls. You writhe in your chair and she keeps true to her word, softly sucking on your tip as it throbs. 

She wipes her mouth then snaps her fingers. The sound of the waves give way to silence, letting only your breath and your heartbeat compete for volume in the small bedroom.

“Wowee, you really gave me quite the meal today.”

You frown and your hands scramble for your head. Your legs jitter. “Wait a second. Does that mean I just lost?”

“Oh sweetie, didn’t you hear that crash? You won!” Taeyeon says and you relax all your muscles, sinking into the chair.

“Really? I did it?” Put your hands up. “I did it! Wooo!”

She grins and high-fives one of them. “That’s right! It’s incredible you managed to last so long against a succubus with all her abilities.”

“Huh?”

“I felt the heat inside of you. You would’ve climaxed a dozen times without my intervention.”

“Oh.”

“And my intervention could’ve gone the other way. You know how many times I could make you cum in a minute?”

“Ah. Dammit.”

”I’d never just steal a soul like that. Well, not from someone as sweet as you. Speaking of which, take it. And don’t feel bad by the way. I’ll be fine.” 

You recognize some of the words she says from the arcane book before the pointy tip of her tail stabs at her heart and she passes out. It couldn’t possibly be sunrise yet, though rays of light from above shine on your body. You warm up before you feel frigid, then blazing, then frigid again, like a pulsating orgasm of temperature. Taeyeon bleeds profusely as she lays on the floor but before you can rush to find bandages or do anything to save her, once again, time rewinds.

“There we go. Sorry for lying to you. I just needed a little more power to do that and magic has a funny way of reveling in high stakes. It really likes when you up the ante with a game like that.”

Your mouth rounds into an O shape again.

“Looks like you had a lot of fun there. You know, we could do that again. Just do that ritual exactly the same, and add this symbol.” She holds her palm up, and it glows with a red seal with some archaic language. “You draw that on your body and it’ll ensure that you summon me. I think I have some stamps at my place, those should work better. That’s my true name by the way.” 

“Is that a big deal?” you ask.

Taeyeon laughs. ”Like you couldn’t imagine. On the one hand, I could never give your soul back. On the other hand, it would never fade away from my body, slowly giving you some of my power until you turn into one of our kind.”

Your eyes widen. “Wow. Maybe I’ll consider it.”

“I’m sure you—” 

Crash. Taeyeon dematerializes. For a moment, an odd pain strikes your chest and you reach out for her. It’s not supernatural, but rather it feels like you were just yanked out of a dream with a hypnagogic jerk. 

Take the moment to finally get off that chair, first and foremost. It’s comfortable though not enough. You’ll clean the room tomorrow. Might as well enjoy the tempting scents she’s left behind until then. You’re drained from the experience but at the same time, every image of Taeyeon pleasing you burns into your mind, keeping you staring at the ceiling while on your bed. For all the stress she dealt upon you, you can’t shake off the avarice within you for another orgasm.

The doorbell rings, and you rush to open it to find who you hoped it was. Taeyeon stands between the doorframe. Her hair is more disheveled not tied up in pigtails and her oversized shirt stained with coffee drapes just down to her thighs. 

“I’m only a little sorry for waking you up considering how you interrupted me." She examines your jittery face and you calm down realizing that she’s okay. “Oh, right. Well trust me, if it were any other time, we could just fuck normally. You can think of this as one last punishment. Check your mail tomorrow.”

One last punishment. It doesn’t have to be. Curl up and hide in your sheets; it’ll be the only way you get enough sleep to function tomorrow.

The sun hangs as high as it can over your head when you step outside and take in the fresh air. In the set of apartment mailboxes, a metal ring with a stamp and a letter penned in paper older than you or your family heirlooms.

Not a mistake this time. You remember what to do, right? The easiest way would probably be to use a candle, since that's what the stamp was originally designed for. Just do it at a reasonable time. Please. Wait shit I can’t erase this, shouldn’t have used ink. I’m not wasting this parchment. Do NOT summon me from 3 A.M. to 3 P.M, unless you wanna make things really complicated for both of us. Oh, and here:

Her phone number and Instagram username. Good thing Taeyeon’s up to date with modern technology. There’s a lot of questions you want to ask her, about the past, about your future. Roll the signet along your fingers and consider your choice carefully. Are you going to ignore Taeyeon? To move on with life having learned so much about yourself would be enough of a blessing itself, because you feel a residual confidence that she’s imprinted on you.

The red wax on your chest isn’t that hot.

Precipitous ft. Handong

New country air.

New mountain breeze after hiking miles up just to get a kilometer across.

New seafood fragrances at the rural oceanside restaurant, mixing with a salty fog that rolls in past the cool water, tickling your nose and rejuvenating your lungs. 

Under one atmosphere comes all kinds of unfamiliar scents when you travel, though at a cost. Along concrete or on the tarmac, travel wears you down one way or another. Pins and needles prick numb legs, eyes grow weary, and even if the pressure is different, stale air stays stale whether you’re in a car or 35,000 feet amongst the clouds. 

It’s absolutely not about the journey, it’s the destination.

All the same, you would have taken The Proclaimers lyrics to heart if the Yellow Sea were land, or if much, much bigger issues didn’t force you apart. In the whole scheme of things, you could handle waiting, especially in an era of unprecedented communication. That’s what you told people. No, it doesn’t matter you were on the phone pretty much every other hour with her. Weeks became months that felt like years apart from Handong. 

Luckily, she enthusiastically kept you updated to everything. Every delicious food stall she tried out, all the new friends she made, the sights she managed to take in despite the challenges she faced in Wuhan. It was stressful but as a result, there wasn’t much catching up to do when Handong finally did come back. However, there's a certain aura she exudes now that you only barely noticed video chatting with her every night, a gradual progression in her brightness on her unplanned stay there. Of course, you were always madly in love with her, but something about her captivating eyes now as she clasps your free hand while you drive, it makes you feel both overjoyed and protective. If she feels the way you are, she must have a beaming smile underneath that mask too.

That’s why you don’t mind the monotonous queue of cars or the patchy asphalt. Sure, you could be enjoying the fresh and crisp October breeze but the simple sweetness of Handong’s lavender shampoo isn’t just a faint aroma on a hoodie anymore. You have to soak it in. It’s like your senses are wholly renewed. You’re used to the numerous dyes and styles of her hair though it doesn’t stop her bleached locks from distracting you in your peripheral vision with how the crimson fades to pale orange highlights.

Wholesome thoughts of your girlfriend degenerate suddenly at thoughts of earlier today in a public restroom, mixed with a realization that every other phone call was more phone sex than a conversation, mixed with an inspired, self-induced frustration. One you thought worth undergoing since it’s about the destination, right?

Damn. You need to cum really badly.

Careful. Concentrate. The car carries cherished contents.

“You don’t have to hold my hand that tight, I’m not jumping out,” Handong says.

“If you do, I hope you remember to tuck and roll.” You sigh at the stupid comment before she gets to. “You know how I am.” 

Squeeze her fingers a bit tighter. The traffic light above turns green and you prepare to turn into the freeway, though the flow is slow today. “Mhm. I figured as much when you spent a whole day in a plane just to visit for a few hours. I do have object permanence.”

“Nah, that trip was for selfish reasons.”

“Hmm?”

“Needed to catch that concert live. Also, I missed you real bad.”

She punches you in the shoulder, probably strong enough to be unsafe if the SUV ahead wasn't so slow. “Dammit, you cornball. Is this trip selfish too?”

“Of course. How else would I spend the couple days I have with you?” you ask, rolling your struck joint in feigned injury.

“Fffooo.” Handong blowing air on your shoulder is more caustic than the hit itself. “All better. Anyway, catching up with practice won’t be that busy. We’ll have time.”

“Not this much.”

Her hand loosens the slightest from yours so that her thumb can circle your palm. Clockwise means “I love you”, counterclockwise means find the nearest spot you can and fuck my brains out. Or was it the other way around? Unfortunately, your spatial awareness is currently engaged in the art of tackling traffic so you couldn’t tell which it is either way; maybe a less ambiguous shape would have been better. Better to err on the side—er, rotation—of caution.

Handong’s already heard your words of affection a hundred times in the past hour alone. “By the way, your dancing's been amazing lately. You’ve been killing it,” you say instead.

“Oh, I see the comments, don’t have to tell me twice. Thank you, though.” Handong kisses your fingers, bringing some heat to your cheeks, before she scoots closer in the passenger seat. Her inflection shifts, highlighting the smokiness in her tone. “It’s all practice for you, baby. You’re so lucky, getting all those free camgirl shows for yourself.”

Counterclockwise then. You’re a bit surprised, considering the counterclockwise activity you did earlier, but to be fair, you haven’t cum on her yet today with how focused you were on her pleasure and you know how much she enjoys your semen on her body. Driving complicates the request as well, but you play along. “Damn right. Remember when we first started dating and I came on your face at the hotel? I still wish I had a picture of that moment. You looked so fucking pretty.”

“Now that I think about it, I wish you took that picture too,” Handong says without hesitation. “To be fair, that was right after a music show. I was really tired.”

“You say that now, but I remember that cute blush on your face. Oh, where did those times go, Dongie.” Let go of her hand and put yours on your forehead in playful yearning.

“Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy how I shake my ass now. Oh right, you can’t, you were jerking your cock like there’s no tomorrow.”

“And I won’t ever apologize for that. Something about your red hair—” Handong takes off her mask, flustering you for a second. It’s being with an idol on the road in public, you’d first claim, even if she wouldn’t be outed for dating some random civilian. However, what actually throws you off balance is her saucy smile and her expression, subtle yet effective in its suggestiveness.

“Oh, I know! It makes me look like an e-girl, right?” Handong sticks her tongue out and does the peace sign gesture with both hands, like she’s posing for a rearview dash cam, then she points to your side, where a semi-trailer propels sluggishly in the next lane over. “You think that truck driver would pay for my OnlyFans?”

This girl. She always had a quiet boldness to her; it’s a bit more overt now. “Tsk. Just stream on Twitch, it’ll be way easier to get simps that way.”

Sneak a glance at the driver—he looks like he’d pay to moderate her chat—before you focus your eyes on the road as you merge into the highway traffic, though the effort is for naught as more and more cars surround you.

“Hopefully, we’ll make it in time for dinner. At least I don’t have to stress as much about dumbass drivers.” Shift attention to your passenger seat. Handong is on her phone, browsing through her couple pictures.

“Look at this.” Handong tilts the bright screen towards you. “I can’t believe how stupid your hair looks here. Jumping on the long mane train before everyone else in the lockdown.”

“Hey now—”

Handong accidentally swipes, and seeing a blurry selfie of her cross-eyed face while you’re in the middle of railing her doggystyle causes you to slam on the brakes instinctively, even though you’re barely going faster than a marathon runner. 

“Woah! When’d you take that? And why is that in your public folder?”

“Shit, forgot to move that one. I kinda just glossed over that.”

Grip the wheel. “Yeah, I figured. Doesn’t answer my first question though.”

Handong pinches your ear. “Well, my phone was right by the bed and I wanted to see your face. Then I saw all the sweat on your brows and just how into it you were, I had to save it for later. Of course you wouldn’t remember the picture.”

“Nah, I know you just wanted to look at your own face. Remind me to buy a mirror for the bedroom next time.”

“Mhmm,” Handong says as she types in the notes app, taking your suggestion seriously, a worthwhile purchase if you could see that same lustful expression yourself. Maybe if you go doggystyle again, but this time in her asshole. Not only haven’t you had an orgasm yet—saving up the weeks’ worth of cum for a more special moment than the airport bathroom—you haven’t fucked her anally ever since she returned from Wuhan. That sculpted ass. You’ve only had a taste of it a few times before then, your mouth and your cock living their finest lives exploring her butt, which is why you brought more than enough lube for tonight.

Take a glance at Handong as the car rolls steadily amidst the sea of vehicles. Looks like you aren’t the only one getting riled up in your thoughts, feeling your exceedingly full balls and the tension of your jeans against your crotch. She swipes through an album, this time all filled with explicit pictures: her hands covering her adorable nipples, an imprint on your pants just like the one you have now, strings of girl cum dripping down her thighs. 

As she inspects the photos, her arm tucks into her sweater and she lets the sleeve fall, so that her free hand can slip underneath her denim shorts. Considering how obvious the shifting fabric is to anyone watching, Handong probably could’ve just reached between her lush thighs, especially with how short the shorts are. It can’t be safe the way your vision rapidly switches between the car in front of you, waiting to see if they’ve moved yet, and Handong getting heated at the records of your sexual exploits on her phone. Regretfully, you can’t let her distract you.  “Noona, please. Can’t this wait until we get to the cabin?”

Handong wets her lips with a lick before biting them, breathing a bit more heavily through her nose. “Babe, look at this.”

“You know I can’t—” She turns up the phone’s volume. Loud moaning noises and grunting intersperse wet slapping and sloppy kissing.

“Damn, I couldn’t stop thinking about this one,” Handong says, her fingers working brisker on her pussy.

“Mommy!” your voice rings from the surprisingly full phone speakers.

The black video turns to yellow lighting. Right, you were just going to record the particularly slick sounds of Handong but you had to see the way she looked in her outfit. As you turn the phone over, you discover Handong’s face writhing while she brings her hips down forcefully. At second look, it isn’t so much an outfit, as it is flowing sheer black silk that drapes from perky chest down to her sinewy midriff, flapping above and below her waist as she fucks herself onto your dick. Handong turns around, never letting your erection leave her body, and she sits between your legs spread upwards in a V shape, your feet on the couch and your cock bending forward as she squats up and back down fluidly.

“Ooh, fuck. You like how mommy’s pussy feels around your cock?” she asks, accepting her new name immediately as she holds her hair, a much more vibrant orange than it is now, in a ponytail.

“Yess, mm-, m-, mommy,” you whimper, the inexorable ricochets of her ass against your crotch clashing with your clamors for her new bedroom name. 

Putting the phone in the cupholder muffles but doesn’t completely silence the intense sound of your sex. You reach to turn down the sound but stop when Handong’s fingers trace your shoulders lightly, leaving a sopping trail. After caressing your collarbone, she goes further up tickling your neck and making your head twitch. Her fingers find their target on your lips, preventing your ability to ignore the subtle musk of her wetness. 

“Mmm,” she moans as though she tasted a perfectly marbled steak, “Mommy. That really came out of nowhere. You remember how my pussy quivered on your cock when you said that?”

“Come on, we’ve had sex so many times, how would I remember that?” Of course you remember, she was practically choking your erection alive while slamming her ass into it, plus, it was the last time you recorded the two of you having sex before she left Korea. Look ahead. The black Hyundai lurches forward. Depress the accelerator for a second.

“That’s what cameras were made for.” Handong takes the smartphone and pauses the video. Can’t see what she’s doing, but the phone is definitely pointed at you. “For example, I can see that bulge in your pants.”

Click.

 If you give in now, she’ll be insatiable for the entire car ride. Besides, it’s not about the journey.

“Play with mommy a bit, please? Look! We’ve only moved a meter.”

Shake your head and Handong sulks into the leather chair. It’s cruel but you love seeing her so animated, knowing that your prodding will get her hot and bothered later. Besides, it’s not about the journey.

“I see how it is. Fine.”

By the time the buildings that pass by grow shorter, with the skyline clearing from reflective glass to a blue backcloth stained white, the traffic subsides and you’re cruising towards your destination. Ordinarily, you both welcome the silence as being comfortable in it is one of the most important parts of your relationship. Neither of you could nor would want to talk for hours straight just to fill dead air. Right now, however, there’s a sizzling static circulating the sedan’s vents that you feel a need to replace with conversation. When you open your mouth, the hairs on the back of your hand raise. It isn’t out of fear or awkwardness. Fear is closer though.

The freedom in the road dies, forcing you to decelerate as traffic accretes yet again. With a relative absence of human establishments other than the occasional gas station, the only explanation would be the bends and bumps as plains give way to tall trees and hilly terrain. Your braking is careful but the Cooper at your heels comes to a screeching halt, reminding you of the stark wordlessness.

“Fucking hell,” you exclaim because of the stupid driver. Clear your throat. “So... any other plans for when we get to the park? There’s that lake nearby, I think they have a boat we could ride.”

Look down for a moment. Her bra is on the car floor. When did that get there? Her gaze doesn’t answer questions of timeframe but it does solve the simple riddle of why it’s there. Handong ties her hair up and signals your Pavlovian response post-haste, the earlier tension against your denim stronger than before. Her hands have a hint of hesitance that she throws away as soon as a graze against your clothed leg elicits an audible shudder from you. Neither your hands nor mouth protest like it should, the former having an excuse on the steering wheel; the latter unhinges to gasp out warm air because of Handong’s clumsy hands that unzip your pants and shove all the safeguards to your dick out of the way. A little adjustment and your erection springs free. 

Handong’s fascination with your cock hasn’t changed since your first day together. It’s why she loves taking pictures of it, drooling while she stares at it standing at attention, and tapping it with her fingertips, now a bit moist with spit. Blood races down. The pitter-patters peter until her fingers find rest around the top of your shaft.

Pressure forges diamonds. Literally speaking, it couldn’t be further from the truth—at least in your situation with the softness of her touch unhinging you in how hard it makes your shaft. In the idiomatic sense, Handong’s past verve in finding for mutual pleasure couldn’t prepare you one bit for the way she teases you now, giving the least effective method to bring you closer to your orgasm as she rubs the head of your dick with one finger, then two. It’s easy to forget you're in a machine of death weighed in tons when a woman pleasures you but you're more distracted by her own pleasure as you’ve always been, her eyelashes fluttering, her mouth wide open. 

“Please, noona, can we wait?” you say with some residual prudence. 

“But I just came up with some new plans,” Handong says, brushing your erection in deft strokes, never fully grasping your length as her fingers run up, down and around the shaft. If not for her impalpable touch, all the motivation your cock needs to stay hard is her moaning as though she was the one being pleasured. “Why do we have to be across the country?”

Finally, her hands squeeze to give you some stimulation and Handong lets out a satisfied breath in kind. At first, just one hand twists—counterclockwise—at the base of your girthy flesh while the other continues to fondle around your tip with delicate digits.

“Why some random park?”

Handong teases your frenulum a final time with her freer hand by pinching before it joins the other hand in converse rotations. The intensity of her handjob ramps up, her manual ministrations turning into the vertical motions, causing you to let out small desperate sounds as you twist your neck with every stroke up and down. 

It’s only at occasional glances to the side do you realize just how open you are. You’re really not sure the windows are dark enough for people not to witness the indecent acts in your car. 

After the fucking you’ve done today and the braggadocio of your stamina, it’s embarrassing how soon your climax portends when your soft whines turn to louder groans and beads of sweat dripping from your forehead. Handong doesn’t mind the hastiness however, moaning along with you if her indefatigable hands didn’t let you know enough how much she wants your orgasm. Even her legs writhe when all the aching pleasure is yours.

“And why so far? When I can make you cum right. Here.”

And despite her words, the electricity firing in your brain, all the signals in your impossibly hot body ready to permit your release all over the car, Handong lets go. Your cock twitches at the nothingness. Life flashes through your mind. You miss Handong. You want to see her lament on her knees. You love her, you hate her—but more importantly, you love her.

“There we go. That’s it. Mmm.” Her tongue drags across her hands. “Now was there something else you wanted to say to me?”

Your pause is a little too long, as her hands hesitate to touch you again. “N-no? Let me cum please, noona. If you’re not gonna wait, just please, I have to cum so bad, and, and people are gonna see.” Your voice is pitiful in its smallness.

“Hmm. But you asked me to wait earlier.” Her grasp returns, wetter and warmer than before. Handong threatens to leave marks on your car seat with how deep she buries herself into it in empathic passion, and she threatens to somehow mark your cock. It swells, it burgeons, it must have some permanent reminder of her inflaming relief.

“I didn’t mean that, I just—”

“No, no, mmm, no. You haven’t figured it out yet.”

There are no cars around you. There is no azure above, no trees waiting for the cold to arrive yet again. Instead, you see a massive wall of rock imposing your frail human stature. It’s a hundred feet or maybe a thousand. Who cares. You’re unsure as you tiptoe along its fringe. You want to fall. You need to fall. You need the exhilaration, the stomach-churning drop, the rush of terminal velocity crashing onto your body as air fights against your perilous plummet. 

One measured misstep is all it takes. Two legs coordinating their clumsiness.

Three throbs. 

Handong won’t let you. Her hands won’t allow your failure. She feels the first and holds on to your cock, not letting you fall. The second, and she realizes her mistake, letting go of your shaft, and she watches the third spasm while biting her lips at the bead of semen that dribbles out.

It’s not about the journey, the saying punches you in the spine.

“Always loved this cock you know. Like it was made for my hands.”

“Ahh, f-fuuck. I, I know other parts it was made for. Maybe if we went faster, we could make it to the campsite sooner, see what fits even better.”

“Mmmhmm, baby. As much as I love that idea… You know what. Sure. Just floor it.” It’s amazing how Handong can make a simple glance appear so sarcastic with how she looks at your feet and the traffic around the car. She always knows how to bite. 

You sigh in relief when her hands absolve your erection from its discipline. It’s almost painful the way it strains and wants to cum. 

She gasps in revelation and you realize your relief is ill-founded. “You always give me such great ideas baby.” 

Handong unbuckles her seatbelt, takes off her slippers then brings her feet to your crotch. Her knees rest over your center console, the scent of honey soap replaces her lavender aroma, and the vibrancy of her trimmed red toenails pops out to your eyes. You want to massage it, kiss it, lick on her toes, but any initiative is interpreted as resistance from you as she swats your curious hands away with little kicks. Her big toe flicks at the tip of your dick, toying with the burdening flesh and punishing it for nearly releasing your whole load onto her hands earlier. Handong tries to take your cock’s tip between her toes but it’s too girthy for her, making her visibly peeved.

In consolation, she takes her phone out again, snapping away to find the best lighting for the footjob. Handong doesn’t spend too much time teasing with her feet like she did with her hands, her toes not as nimble as her fingers. At most, the firm balls of her feet press down on your thighs for a moment before they slide around your shaft. Trying to find an angle where she can jerk you off with her feet, Handong leans against the car door and sets the phone back down. She pulls her sweater up to reveal her bare breasts and plays with her hardening nipples, while remaining spit on your cock and a hint of sweat lubricate her feet, your cockhead peeking in and out from between her soles at each thrust.

“Noona, fuck. I have to be honest,” you say between tortured panting, “I haven’t cum yet today.” 

“Aww, baby, of course. I knew you could last longer than that at the airport, and I know what your cum feels like inside of me. Fuck, I miss that feeling.”

“Not just that. It’s been weeks, it hurts so much.”

“Really? Even with that video of me fingering my ass and my pussy at the same time,” her words slow down as her hand speeds up, ”while I say your name over and over and over again, even when I squirted on camera and made a mess of myself like a slutty mommy? That might be the most I came on my own. Fuck.”

She slaps her pale pink pussy lips, while sliding her feet back and forth from her toes to her heels and gaining her own pleasure as it massages underneath the balls of her feet.

The ease of effort to get Handong off normally isn’t a source of frustration for you. When you needed a bit more stimulation while fucking her, you could often to turn to the cheat code of fondling her anywhere she’s sensitive, whether it’s by massaging her thighs as you thrust into her prone body, by pulling her long hair and dragging your fingers down to her neck while fucking her on her knees, or by pinching and teasing at her susceptible nipples. Making her cum would give you the gift of her wanton face contorting in pleasure, her fit body working harder to ride you more vigorously, and her pussy clenching even more than usual. 

This time however, it almost makes you jealous, listening to Handong’s voice hitch as she reminisces and rubs crude circles around her nipples. 

In between occasional pulses of the accelerator and corrective nudges of the wheel, you scrutinize the drivers neighboring you. What are they gonna do, call the police? There’s too much traffic in the way for them to get here, though you’re pretty sure at this point that either no one can see inside or no one cares. As you scan around, focus back on Handong. Her toes curl and her heels connect such that her feet squeeze tightly on your erection. When she moves on from her breasts to reach back down, her eyelids shut tight as well. This time, she pays no mind to hiding her arms, sliding between her thighs as her knees buckle, slipping her shorts and her underwear aside.

An audible slickness from between her legs resounds the car, and Handong opens her eyes in surprise. Her gaze instantly transforms from steeped in gratification to calculated confidence, Handong’s puckish grin and wink at you revealing her knowledge of your complete attention. 

Both hands at two and ten. Your feet tense up, and hers do as well. Heavy puffs of air from Handong’s mouth coincide with each glorious thrust of your cock into the smooth arch of her feet, before she turns breathless. Handong keeps up the rhythm in time with the delirious fingering of her pussy, her other hand grasping the ‘oh shit’ handle above her even though there’s no turbulence in the vehicle. Considerably worked up herself, Handong almost doesn’t care how close you are to the precipice, with her soles twisting around your shaft in indulgent pleasure. 

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, mommy’s going to cum!”

Of course, she’s allowed the privilege to jump, reckless abandon on her clit leading to vocalizations probably audible by adjacent vehicles and her feet losing their tension while still grasping your cock snugly. Her legs are like jelly, dangling over the center console. You’re stuck watching and driving on autopilot as Handong trembles and, even in her remaining throes, still stimulates your cock with her feet giving it a final kneading—only enough to make you walk tighter to the edge of the cliff.

“Fuuck, ngh” Handong moans, wiping the pre-cum from your slit with her toes and admiring your poor erection while she licks up the rest of her juices from her fingers.

Of course, moments after Handong recollects herself, the traffic clears like the universe conspires to trap you on a cliff.

Handong puts her seatbelt back on and rubs your shoulders. “Damn, baby. That was so hot.”

And of course, with your balls in your throat, there’s no way you’d dare to tell her to clean up the wet spot on your seat.

“By the way, can we stop by a rest stop? I saw a sign, there’s one coming up in a few kilometers,” Handong says, cheery as ever.

Exhale. “You know what, I need to go too.”

As you arrive at the parking lot of the stop, you almost forget to put your dick back in your pants like a civilized person.

Looking at her bare hands, her neck that you could easily stain purple, her eyes and nose that take you in greedily, every physical part of her makes you aroused like you’ve never been before. Most maddening of all is watching Handong walk away with a swing in her step, accentuating her perfect thighs and ass covered by meager denim.

You only notice how blatantly the car smells of sex when you exit it. Otherwise, ignore the world around you and rush to the bathroom stall. In any other circumstance, you’d just jerk yourself off because of the dangerous tightness in your balls. If it goes on any longer, you’d have the awful feeling of needing to throw up without actually being able to. You’re an inverted grenade ready to implode. Unfortunately, you can’t end it here. The pin belongs to Handong.

In a bout of hysteria, open your phone and scroll through your own pictures of her. Hundreds of different nudes and videos of you two fucking. There’s an honestly artful one, a miraculous point-of-view photo you managed to take despite her thighs wrapped around your head. You waver on whether or not to drop your trousers right now.

“Handong sent you a picture,” the phone reads from the notification bar. There’s pretty much no question as to what kind of rating a movie would get if the picture she sent were a frame in the film. You’d rather open it later, maybe save it for a rainy day, but you're already scrolling through nudes and the punishment you’d get for ignoring her would be even worse.

Tap on the notification. Either the women's bathroom is definitely brighter than yours or your sense of sight is a bit weaker in your delirium. Handong bends over the sink and you can see the phone leaning on the soap dispenser in the mirror. Her shorts and underwear are around her ankles, leaving nothing to cover her body.

“Fuck me on this sink?” the text says.

Grab some tissues before you leave—it’s for the car seat, not masturbating—then run to the girl’s bathroom, not to fulfill her request, but to look out for her. Before you can enter, watching out for the few people in the rest area, Handong steps out as if nothing happened.

“Whatcha wanna eat?” Handong says. Clench your fist.

“Let’s just get some bibimbap,” you say curtly.

“Sounds good to me!” she says, taking your arm in hers and practically skipping to the small food court.

Scarf down your food, practically inhaling the vegetables and the egg for stamina to keep you going, while Handong eats every grain of rice with care, making a point of going down the chopsticks, sticking her tongue out and sucking on them.

The immensity of your perception of time seems familiar.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Hours pass in the car, and Handong pretends nothing happened. For some reason, the silence isn’t nearly as bad, maybe because it’s interspersed with the many beautiful landscapes of Korea that pass by. You needed that break because your erection is ready to break rocks in twain.

Handong opens the window and takes deep breaths in. “Ahh. It’s been so stuffy in here.”

Have to admit the cool air really does wonders to calm your jitters down. The flow state of driving means that only now do you realize how close you are to your destination, even if the GPS makes it clear exactly how long the drive should take.

Handong takes off her seatbelt again. You’re in no position to teach her about passenger safety. 

She bites. Her teeth scrape her bottom lips. When she strips her bottom naked—her big black sweater only slightly hiding her lush pussy from you—her teeth hold in her tongue as she starts touching herself once again. With no care for her unclad state of her ass, Handong leans over to the driver seat. She bites your neck and your ears while her lips plant a kiss an inch away from yours, driving you further away from sanity.

The GPS clearly says to go straight ahead. The scenic route in a hundred meters adds twenty minutes to your travel time. You don’t want to take it. Anything to get to the destination faster, even though you aren’t driving even close to the speed limit, a laziness only acceptable by the lack of cars seen for kilometers. Anything at all for the destination.

Swerve to the right.

Handong smirks. “Now what do I want to hear?”

“You’re so fucking sexy?” you say, between her kisses peppering you and her hands unfastening your pants again.

Handong’s lips and her eyes plead, as she draws in air to puff up her defined cheeks. “Come on baby, you know what mommy wants.”

Breath out from pursed lips. “Mommy, please suck my cock.”

“Almost. Get your phone.”

You scramble for it, knowing exactly what she wants.

“Much better.” Record her smooches right under the head of your dick. They sprinkle you for a little longer than you can handle without moaning audibly on tape, but she finally wraps the poor member with her lips and slowly brings her head down. Each time you glance down, Handong reciprocates the eye contact, deliberate and devilish. In her first tasting, she doesn’t so much glide down your cock as she does kiss, tightening her lips every inch down like she has the measurements of your length memorized. 

No, that measurement is ingrained in her brain without a doubt. Entranced by the first time you pulled it out at the hotel, Handong took pictures of your length, “for reference,” she said, which would be true if she could masturbate to an encyclopedia. Six, seven, is that eight? Clearly Handong knows better, a sole gag from her throat as your cock hits the back of her mouth.

On film, your girlfriend becomes less of a seductress and more of a bundle of hair on your lap, long strands swaying as she feasts on your erection. Pan to Handong’s butt sticking out over her own seat. You would grab her thin waist and seat that ass on your cock where it belongs, but the devoted sucking will have to do, swallowing you like there’s an itch at the back of her throat that only the head of your dick can scratch. Every so often, she stops her blowjob to admire your length and slap it against her face, in love with the way it dwarfs her little mouth.

You want to say more about the pace of her sucking, how well she’s doing, how much you want to cum, but all you can produce is the voiced bilabial nasal. The moan of a man marooned on a mountainside, precipitously hanging by a mere thread. 

“Mommy,” a word naturally filled with the only sounds your mouth can muster, yet the moniker fits Handong so aptly that you didn’t need to be in squirming pleasure to call her that. The word sounds as good coming from her, even when her mouth seals tight around your erection, with how the consonant perfectly resonates on your throbbing flesh. 

Handong pops up from her exquisite deepthroat and blows the phone camera a kiss. “Mmm... Mommy really loves hearing that. Maybe mommy’ll even let you cum. Hmm.” 

She isn’t sloppy, practiced in her oral skills and practical—though sexy, saliva on the car floor would be even more cleaning for later—but her spit covers her lips enough to leave the right amount of friction as she slides up and down. A glint on her matte lipstick shines on video, and Handong shows off a little bead in the corner of her mouth.

“Yummy,” she says after she licks the side of her lips.

As soon as she sees your end imminent through your heavy respiration, not once does her oral grip ever really leave your erection, with her occasional breaths exclusively in sharp inhaling through her nose. 

The car rolls uphill at a snail’s pace, nearby squirrels outrunning the many horses in your engine. At this point you’re not even driving, one hand barely on the wheel and holding a phone at the same time, the other caressing behind Handong’s ear as though she needed any encouragement to suck your cock.  

That hand takes the smartphone back to capture every intense moment as best as you can. Really, you shouldn’t be on your phone at all, though there was probably also a lesson somewhere in driving class that said to reject offers of road head. Instead, you join the rarefied contingent of men in that classroom who not only ignore those instructions, but manage to break every rule of distracted driving at the same time.

Each time you want to cum, you involuntarily start thrusting in sync with Handong’s face lowering, but her hands hold your hips down whenever you get too enthusiastic, her fingers sinking into your thighs. The video is definitely too shaky to use, though the wet noises of her throat are still worth watching over. Even with how intoxicated Handong looks at the taste of your cock, her eyes only half-open as she takes deep whiffs of your smell, she manages to stay methodical in her hold over you.

Handong turns her head to the side, your erection causing her cheek jut out before it slips from her mouth. “Where do you wanna cum, babe? All over my face? Down my throat?”

One choking mouthful of your cock. She sees the park sign and stops. 

Your melting brain wishes it were two.

Three seconds away from falling.

“Maybe a head start in my ass? Well, not yet. We’re almost at our cabin and we gotta unpack,” Handong says after giving a final lick all the way from the base of the erection. She confiscates your phone and sends the video to herself.

You arrive at the destination.

This is it. The destination. 

The sun is getting lower revealing the pyrotechnic spectacle of dusk and its orange hues. You should take a picture of it.

You hurt. Your cock hurts.

Shuffle out of the car and bring luggage to the small cabin. Handong rummages through the tote bags but you disregard her, fixated on your labor.

There’s no one in sight, but it might just be all the trees, since you can definitely hear the occasional conversation carrying through the forest.

Handong changes her clothes. You don’t make much of a note of it.

“I thought it’d be colder.”

You should respond, mention something about the surprising October weather, maybe about the sun shining for its last hours on this day, or how absurd it is that such a simple outfit could make you want to pin her down and fuck her right outside of the cabin without regard for passersby. Unfortunately, you can’t, your mind lost to the world.

“It's the perfect time to eat dinner but... you don’t seem that hungry,” Handong says. “Are you?”

The first complete syllable you’re able to vocalize. “No.”

“Well then, come with me. Let’s get some firewood.”

She leads you by the hand, following a map she printed to find a little wooden shack in the distance. The campsite store. “Are we getting anything other than—”

Handong puts a finger to your mouth, then makes you sneak around the entrance before she pushes you right against the side of the wooden shack. Sturdy thing. With just the force of the push, you feel less than sturdy, ready to collapse at any touch. She checks around the corner to ensure the two of you aren't too conspicuous.

There’s no need to ask.

Suddenly, everything happens. Her head perfectly cradles your neck and Handong licks at it like a kitten. She unzips and unfastens you with the only warning being her own rapid undress of her leggings, and with as little warning, thick thighs choke your cock to oblivion. Handong pecks while she slides your shaft to and fro, only a string of her spit between your bodies lubricating your spent dick, and you use all determination in keeping your voice down.

“Mommy please, let me thrust now,” you whisper into her ear. Look below and her panties are ruined with her juices.

Handong looks up at you with pleading eyes. “Aww baby, you wanna cum that bad for mommy, don’t you?”

Her hips shove into your cock and the heat from her pussy makes you wish she’d just concede, that she’s had enough of her fun for the day. No, that’s not how Handong works. Handong’s force in driving your dick between her legs endangers your secrecy, as she nearly pushes you back into the shack enough to make unmistakable noise. “Yes mommy, I love you mommy, I love your pussy and your thighs and your mouth and hands and feet, everything mommy, please.”

Your rambling is like a simple shove to her. It’s all she needs to keep weaving your cock between her legs, waiting for your face to misshape as it always does before you cum, waiting for your lengthy ‘mmms’ that indicate your transition from aimless content to near orgasm. 

The breeze grows stronger and you have a vantage of the vastness below. You’re not looking forward anymore, you’re looking to the side, to where the rock turns into a cliff. 

Her thighs suffocate your erection, yet they soften her legs’ hold at the same time, an impossible texture that leaves you on the brink. A spurt of your load, she can sense almost preternaturally and she lets go. Not again.

Handong’s little hands take your erection to aim in front of her abs.

“Mommy!” you whine a little too loudly and mommy tiptoes to silence your naughty mouth with a deep kiss.

One more stroke and finally. You’re here. The destination.

Orgasm is like the shock of falling off of a cliff. It’s like the rush of excitement of skydiving, or a gust of wind nearly making your body keel over, Handong’s vise on your shaft keeping you on solid ground. She squeezes at the head of your cock with each pulse, plastering her toned stomach more and more so that it barely shines under the setting sun.

Your vision fades, your nails dig into your palm as you clench a fist, and Handong takes that hand, tasting one of your fingers suggestively and ensuring you have the longest climax of your life as your brain turns further into Handong’s clay. “That’s it baby. I’ve got you,” she says as ropes of semen continue to create a veneer on her fit abs.

With no concept of time, you estimate a minute must’ve passed and you’re throbbing anyway, the leaky faucet not yet fixed. Handong wraps your neck with her arms, nudging her tongue into your mouth as she lets the final thrumming of your cock experience the embrace of her pussy in one entrance. “Fuuck,” you utter.

It’s not the romantic sex you hoped but the destination was absolutely worth the journey, though it also helps seeing her midriff absolutely coated. Handong unsheathes you, spreading your cum on her skin, and ruins her panties further with the sticky load when she fingers herself a final time before pulling her leggings back up.

“Now that we took care of that wood...”

It’s a lot easier for you to join in with Handong’s giggles when your head is clear. She takes a moment to lean against the side of the cabin to allow both of you to catch a breath, before the two of you walk to the entrance mere meters away, putting on your masks. A campsite worker—Jungmo, it says on his name tag—looks up from his phone, enthusiastic just to see people. You grab some wood, wet wipes, and a couple bottles of soju.

“Ahh, so the husband’s doing all the work this time,” Jungmo says. You’re already wide-eyed at his assumption, but your eyes grow further, realizing Handong probably hasn’t cleaned up enough to be conspicuous.

“Mhm. Quid pro quo, you know? He does the work now and I do all the work later.” Handong says, and you can hear the smugness. 

Pay for all the goods, trying to get between her and the worker in the small store, but you can tell by his stunned demeanor that you’re a little too late.

“N-nice, uh, hair, by the way,” he says as you two walk out. You’d shoot him a glare if it weren’t so true.

As you head back, you pass by another couple probably in their late thirties, and a group of college friends. You want to scold her, maybe take some of the wet wipes and clean her up, but your hands are too full. Not a chance at least one of them didn’t notice.

Handong takes a long shower in the small cabin. You’re like a lost puppy waiting for its owner, though your cock has a mind of its own more like a rabid hound watching Handong step out of the tiny bathroom fully nude. Other than new panties and windbreaker on top, she changes into the same grey cropped top and tight-fitting leggings from earlier.

“Are we going somewhere? It’s getting pretty late,” you say.

“Can’t be that late, there’s still sun.” The color of fire peeks through the cabin windows. She pulls out her trusty map again and points to a mountain outlook on a trail not too far. “I know we were gonna go in the morning, but going now should be fine too right? Don’t have to wake up early.”

“Yeah, the sky does look beautiful.” Find your morning sweatpants. Handong brings her small backpack along.

The trail’s entrance is only a few minutes walking away from the cabin. It’s a pretty easy one to hike, a path wide and well-traveled enough that families or other large groups could traverse along its length without worrying about catching a leg on a rock. Handong pulls you ahead excitedly.

You arrive at the simple wooden lookout, finding a couple of binoculars and a history of the mountain and the park on a sign.

“It’s nice,” you say, watching over the wilderness fading as it anticipates the cold winter ahead, with a snaking river flowing into a modest lake as a centerpiece, and a more vast sea of pale pink above you.

Handong has her hands above her eyes like a visor, searching for something, even though the sun is almost gone to the horizon on the right. She points further ahead in the trail, in the direction the sun shines its dying light. “I think I see a better spot.”

“Better?”

Instead of an answer, she runs along the trail and you have no choice but to chase her. She swerves to the right, dancing between the hefty trunks, until you reach the spot. Even though the leaves are mostly on the forest floor, the trees are dense enough that you can’t really see the original trail or the scenery below. However, you can make out the manmade overlook in the evening lighting.

Handong takes her backpack off and pulls out a towel.

“Are we having a picnic?”

“Shhh!” She covers your mouth with her hand as you hear rustling in the distance. “You didn’t notice the people behind us?” Handong whisper.

“I did. Didn’t think that would be a problem.”

She sets the towel down on a flat patch of ground next to a tree after moving aside some of the leaves. “Always know where your towel is. Good thing it’s getting dark.” Handong gets a small bottle from the backpack which you don’t recognize at first.

“Is that lube?” you ask.

“Of course. Now be quiet,” she says, stepping closer to you, making you back up against the tree by the towel.

A hand on her shoulder and you lean forward, whispering into her ear. “Oh yeah? And what about when I fill mommy’s ass? Who do you think’s gonna be the one to give us away?”

She smirks, surprised at your initiative, though it was initiative that made you come up with the pet name in the first place. Immediately, Handong grabs your head with both hands, wrapping her right leg around you, pushing you against the tree trunk as she devours your mouth in a kiss. It takes everything for either of you to back off, but eventually, she withdraws first, a bit of saliva forming a string between your lips. “Lie down.”

As you obey her command, Handong slips out of all her clothes and you do the same, your clothes making a pile like the leaves next to it. It’s a bit chilly. You both know how much heat you’re about to get. She squeezes the plastic bottle of lube onto your erection, and her hands warm up the cold slippery liquid as they work to thoroughly coat every inch of your cock.

“Are you comfortable by the way?” she says, squatting over you and hovering her pert ass over your tip.

The towel is a bit small for your whole body, but it’s a little late for you to mind. “More than enough.”

“Good,” Handong says, though her words turn into a prolonged high pitched noise, one that hikers might assume is some unidentified animal; her tight ring enveloping your cockhead threatens to turn you into one yourself, the pressure forcing you to go feral and ignore everything else as you fuck her asshole with all the strength in your hips. You know better though because in the few times you’ve had anal sex, Handong’s always needed time to adjust to your size.

Hour-long minutes pass as Handong sheathes herself.

She groans, digging her fingers into your shoulders and neck. “Fuck you’re all the way.”

Your voice turns higher, rapt by her squeezing. “Mommy, can I...”

“Yeah, you can move.” Your hands wrap around her waist and you practically carry her up, only the lube relieving you of the friction of her tightness along your length. Letting go, your cock impales her only a bit faster than the first penetration. She looks you dead in the eyes. “Fuck my ass.”

At her words, your grip lowers to her buttcheeks which you spread apart. It doesn’t do much physically to lighten the arduous journey into her ass, but the perfect handfuls of fat and muscle keep your hands occupied so that you don’t instinctually spank her and fill the forest with obvious sounds of sex. Withdraw your cock again, relaxing your hips. Over and over again, you fill her ass deeper but, try as you might, you feel disappointed at the disjointed thrusting. Handong sees that for all of your effort, your position lying down combined with the impossible force of her anus make it too difficult for you to find a practical rhythm. Her hands push down harder on you and she leans over. 

Instantly, sparks course through your body, and hers too, by the way she brings her butt up and down smoothly. Once slow surges in pleasure turn into spikes. Handong’s gasping waxes and wanes, from small bursts to moments of breathlessness. She bends lower down as she clenches around your length, and you feel yourself hitting new destinations in her ass each time. “Your dick feels so big in mommy,” she says as you feel her hands press against her stomach, outlining the distension.

“It’s, it’s just, that mommy’s ass is so f-fucking tight,” you blubber. Handong notices you aren’t being quiet enough, taking her finger from her soaking pussy to your mouth, pacifying you. Suck her finger, relishing in the taste and smell of her juices. She bounces on your dick with enthusiasm, her thighs jiggling and slapping with no restraint, and every insertion is a new journey.

Then, chatter. It must be only meters away. Handong hunches over until she’s laying on top of you, kissing you to stop your breathing while your cock waits in agony inside of her. The way your erection bends makes you tremble underneath her, your arm’s embrace around her like it’s for dear life. Her tongue explores your mouth, seeing if she can discern her own taste. Handong starts shaking her ass subconsciously, running her hands through your hair, the carnal pulling making you moan into her. Relinquishing the kiss, you both open your eyes and you can see the hue of her dark irises.

“I love you, mommy.”

“I love you too baby.” Single breaths. In and out. She lays on your chest, comparing the sounds of your speeding heart to the sounds of conversation. “Okay, I think the coast is clear.”

Handong gets up, unsheathing your cock. “Ah, hah.” 

The sun is no more, moonlight usurping the role of illuminating nature. Take a moment to devour the sight of a perfect woman lit only by the Earth’s natural satellite, squatting just enough for your tip to poke her ass lightly. She lies down next to you for just a second.

Kiss her cheek. She kisses yours back.

There’s a nearby stump, cut quite tall as you estimate it reaches Handong’s waist. It’s perfect. Lead her to it, moving the towel so she can kneel on the forest floor. Handong knows exactly how you want to take her. Kneel behind her in kind and she crosses her hands on her back, looking back at you. “Use my ass, baby.”

You add a little more lube, though some of it goes wasted as you smack your cock against her asschecks, procuring sharp yelps from Handong. Bury yourself in her ass and this time, it isn’t nearly as slow as it usually is. This time, bent over like a piece of meat, Handong is less of a confident woman and more a mess, wriggling as you keep her from keeling over with your hands’ restraint on wrists while you pound into her warm and tight butthole. Every plunge makes you grit your teeth when those unfortunately familiar throbs of your impending orgasm draw near. Take long breaths through your nose to hold it off, the scent of sweat overtaking the cool fresh air. Handong’s pussy is even wetter than before, you can tell when your balls hit it in your forceful thrusts. “I’m gonna, ahh, fucking ruin your ass mommy.”

“Ngh, god, fucking, ahh, ow, ahh,” she exclaims. Slow down your pace and let go of her hands. “Don’t you dare fucking stop, it hurts so good. Fuck!” Handong says as you fill her to the hilt, tickling something new when she’s bent over doggy. 

Catch your breath, as your easing rhythm is admittedly to last a moment longer inside her blissful asshole.

Handong begs anyway. “Please, baby, mark mommy. Claim mommy’s ass. Inside and out.”

Grab her firm ass so forcibly that you don’t even notice your nails digging in, and renew the torrid pistoning of her ass once again. Her grunts and moans sound a bit pained in their high pitch, but her sexy face also reassures you as she looks back.

“Break me… Fucking break my ass,” Handong says while all of her features on her face distort in pure passion, “Ngh, please, I’m so close.” 

The desperate pleas, going from words to moans, the pressure of her tight asshole on your cock, her needy hands fondling your balls, reaching for her wet slit in search of a final orgasm—everything about her sends you a step away from the cliff. “Me too mommy, I’m gonna cum!”

“Yes! Cum for me!” Handong says, fingering her pussy so sloppily, you can feel them inserting at a much faster rhythm than your cock sliding wantonly into Handong’s ass. Without warning, her climax arrives first. Two, three, who knows how many of her fingers are inside of her when her whole body tightens, but especially her asshole, which squeezes your shaft so much, it'd choke to death if it had to breathe. Handong lets out a squeal and you cover her mouth, the restriction of her airflow suffocating your cock even further somehow. 

The two of you fly. The endlessness of nature disappears in your singular mind. Your cock. Handong’s ass.

You let your held breath out with a groan as the act of bringing your length all the way inside of her afflicts you with the throttling strain of her asshole. Even the subtlest pumps coerce more throbbing from the both of you, and one moment of black turns into two, the sensation of falling back to overwhelm you as you spill endless ropes of hot semen inside of her tight body. pleasure. Handong pours even more herself, when her fingers, absolutely dripping in her girl cum, massage your balls and prolong your climax, even despite your previous record-shattering orgasm today. It’s a mistake to try to pull out, her anus stimulating your shaft so much that you might collapse over her in unceasing pleasure. 

When the pulsating throughout your body should end, it doesn’t, Handong still squirming and coaxing out strings of cum. As it turns out, the cliff was million feet tall. The high-inducing hormones in your brain subsides slowly, replaced with a short and faint ringing in your ears, and the chill in the air. Close your eyes tight and let out another long breath. Handong looks almost passed out on the tree trunk but she turns her head and smiles at you.

Your cock has yet to leave her ass, so this time you extract yourself slowly and the pulses return a final time. Her clingy anus sticks to your cock, and as you exit her, there’s a creamy mess on your shaft while sticky cum trickles slowly from her rear entrance. You manage a few extra spurts to decorate her ass for good measure. “Fuck. Holy shit, that was so much cum. God that feels so good.”

Her fingers are inclined to agree, as she pushes some of the cum back into her asshole.

”Dammit,” Handong sighs. “For all the important things I packed in the bag, I forgot my phone.”

“Ahh. Good thing I brought mine.”

Place your cock between her asscheeks. For as sensitive as you are, you truly consider putting it back in again. Find an angle to show off the two different leakages that glisten and stick to her thighs, one set of slick strings coming from her pussy, the other a more viscous white that gathers in globs.

“Now say cheese.” Handong looks back with a sultry grin on her cock-drunk face.

You examine her face again moments later, lit by a fire, now innocent and playful. Join in her laughter as you roast some marshmallows on the cabin deck and share in a bottle of soju, cuddled up in a blanket. Your heart warms without needing the flames nearby, watching Handong smile as she holds you closely. Snuggled in your neck, you can’t ignore her sweet-smelling hair flowing down. She’s changed, and you’re grateful to be there with her at every step. At the end of a cliff or falling far above the ground, throughout the journey or at the destination, her naughtiness on video or her sweetness in real life by your side. You won’t be picky as long as Handong is by your side.

“VAA201 Assignment 3: Compare and Contrast — Sex Portrayed in Three Forms of Media” ft. Chaeyoung, Mina

Description

Chaeyoung is a sculpture, a three-dimensional form chiseled in light creamy flesh. Somewhere around 160cm, it would be fair to say you could fit her in the palm of your hand, or maybe in carry-on luggage. Her high heels still on her do not make her any taller, her bright swimsuit-style dress with complex patterns wraps around her ankles, and she bends over a desk ruining your progress on that painting restoration with unwanted fluids; to be fair, half of what spills down her cute little tits are yours. 

The curves of her body and her blonde hair are soft and flow neatly, but there are many harder, more intermittent lines that run through her body: the strings from her heels that wrap around her shins and dig into the skin, nail marks on both her neck and her ass, red handprints on her tits and butt. There are also finer details in her many small tattoos. Lips on her wrist that you don’t kiss but rather grab tightly as you find leverage to piston into her, a heart tattoo under her ear that you nip at to coax more wetness from her pussy. These add texture to her smooth skin, so smooth that your cock in frame can spread saliva and a thin veneer of semen all over her pert cheeks more than comfortably. Your length also snugly fits between her shapely thighs as you give her friction in concluding thrusts. The color in the scene is dominated by the rosy hue of Chaeyoung’s skin and everything in the room other than her is unsaturated.

To be more precise, the entire piece is not just Chaeyoung, but includes the setting of the room, a dimly lit workroom with other pieces of art, tools used for painting, chairs and tables suitably large for the many varieties of canvases used. However, similarly to the color, they are sculpted loosely, almost with a blurry smoothness. It is much like yourself, the final subject of the piece. The tint of your body does not matter, the shape of your hands and your cock, while clearly appearing in the scene, are not described as carefully by the artist. Regardless, you are the intended point of view of the scene, your eyes providing the most accurate perspective, standing behind Chaeyoung with a hand in her hair as you observe your seminal work.

Remember to delete this later when you submit the assignment. It helps get the mindset of the artist but it isn’t crucial to the analysis.

Analysis

You just had sex with Chaeyoung. Perhaps this goes without saying, but it is important to note everything for the purpose of the analysis. Maybe more saliently, there is no mistaking the activities in your sight. You did not accidentally trip and fall while holding a plastic jug of glue, you did not drag Chaeyoung’s swimsuit down, and she was not drooling at the thought of a lobster meal she would eat later today. Even if those are the next most plausible chain of events, any reasonable reading of the moment would lead to the conclusion that intercourse took place. The contrast between her delicate curves and the harsh marks lead the observer to remark that the sex in the scene was not gentle. The movement portrayed is minimal, with only soft breaths from Chaeyoung to recollect herself while your cock throbs and you struggle to keep yourself standing. 

The room is messy, but it is improbable that the messiness is as a result of enamored scrambling around the room. However, it is indicative of the lack of restraint between you and Chaeyoung, if the lack of concern towards the accidental vandalization of art does not make it clear enough. It was once slightly cool in the room with the pure white light of the LED bulbs from the ceiling, but now the warm sun shines in through small windows and the observer may note that the works of art in the room are not so sensitive that they have to be kept away from the sunlight. Her puffy lips are warm not in color, but in literal temperature to the touch. 

When you grind between her legs, she grinds back, begging to put your cock inside. As a sculpture, Chaeyoung almost dances, despite the small stature and the subtlety of her movement. She uses every inch of her body to its fullest effectiveness to keep your cock as hard as possible, even after you’ve sprayed all over her. Even without this knowledge, you can pinpoint the exact point of time in the scene. It must be soon after your orgasm, blurring your vision. Everything would have turned black for moments longer than you expect, so when you open your eyes again, only Chaeyoung stands out to you.

In fact, it is clear the focal point of the scene is Chaeyoung. Though you are one half of the subject of intercourse, possibly even more than that considering Chaeyoung’s petite frame, you fill much less space in the room. You can see your hands, your feet, your dick. Though akin to a camera in the room, you have an imperfect perspective. This lack of clarity paradoxically removes the indistinctness between the second and third person. You are the creator of the work, and you are so used to feeling your emotions instinctively that you do not have to describe them to feel them, though they are both similar and different Chaeyoung’s emotions displayed in her facial expressions and body language. A bit of drool runs from Chaeyoung’s tongue poking out of her little mouth, while your face relaxes while you catch your breath. Both of you are satisfied, you’re both considering whether or not to go for a second round of sex. However, Chaeyoung looks more lost in her pleasure.

“Hello? Daddy, you there?” Chaeyoung reaches down between her legs. Her slick labia turns slicker when your cockhead peeks out from her thighs. Her hands are small and nimble.  Truthfully, maybe you’re the one lost. You don’t even remember to write down a note to delete this outwardly unfitting section of dialogue.

Interpretation

There is a certain amount of implied agreement and planning in the sculpture. Chaeyoung writhes, insatiable for her daddy’s cock. She begs for your cum coated all over her face, her back, her legs and her little tits, but she also loves wrapping you tight with her legs when you cum. These are not the actions of a stranger with another stranger. 

An interpretation of the picture is of Chaeyoung’s hungry need. Chaeyoung could be your girlfriend, she could be your wife or your mistress. The picture gives no explicit labels about her position, though you know she is just a friend. Every emotion displayed is one of physical lust. There is no residue of love. The marks on her body are impermanent, the cum will be cleaned off soon. She is not appropriately dressed for a date at the museum—maybe the beach is more suitable for her attire—and it is too late in the day for the museum to be open anyway. You are her dick appointment and Chaeyoung is too impatient to wait for you to finish your work.

The artist wants to show more than just a picture in the sculpture. It does not require an addition of mixed media, no speakers or dollar-store headphones to depict the sinful sounds coming from between your crotches or the lewd words from your mouths, and there are no Costco samples of her sweat and juices or scratch-and-smell cards that add to the scene’s imagery. However, you know that she smells sweet. It could be vanilla to match her silky skin or possibly a citrus flavor such as lemon to compliment her hair color. Her small physical form of flesh allows you to imagine manipulating her body as you thrust your cock into her.

The purpose of the scene is just as obvious as the underlying events depicted—the artist created this scene because you are horny. The sculpture does not actually exist. The muse of the sculpture, Chaeyoung, exists, but the work of art does not actually exist except in the context of this analytic essay. As a result, one may find a more correct analysis of the piece would be in a secondary analysis of this reading and its structure. By drawing light to its nonexistence, the creator of the scene implores an observer to produce a more thorough imagery in their own conception of Chaeyoung, using deeper and more specific layers of examination.

“God, I love the feeling of your cum all over me, daddy.” Chaeyoung lays with her stomach flat on the desk, her legs dangling from the edge as her ass sticks out. Your assignment is just as ruined as the painting you’re supposed to have fixed. Fortunately, only one of these is due tomorrow at midnight. You consider taking the hit of the late penalty, it’s only 10% for every day missing up to 3 days, and the assignment itself is only 10% of your mark. At this point, these ending paragraphs are motific to the analysis and cannot be removed though their existence will continue to be noted for in-story purposes.

Judgement

It would be contradictory to pass judgement of the scene, as again, the scene only exists as the current representative series of words. The constructive prose plays with the structure of common second-person smut writing to add variety, especially in the current purview of its relevant fandom, K-pop girl groups. Its effectiveness is subjective. Some may find the style indulgent and pretentious, and some of it could be construed as overwriting, as though there were a word count to fulfill, while others may view it as humorous and are able to explore something sexy in the absurdity of work. 

Self-awareness, however, does not necessarily absolve the creator from further criticism. For example, despite all the words to describe the scene, there is still a deliberate vagueness in pinpointing its literal form. An entire tableau is described, though your exact position is still unclear, leaving questions on how an observer would actually insert themselves in your shoes if you were also an extant structure within the tableau. Since the subject of the scene is Chaeyoung, it is left unanswered, alluding to the lack of planning and focus towards the creation of an experience over a perfect representation.

A more productive critique would be towards the fictitious sculpture depicted in the work. You like to use a good fuck doll. Chaeyoung is a good fuck doll. Categorically, this is all that is required in a lurid depiction of sexuality. Much like how all Chaeyoung is good for is as a collection of tight holes for her daddy—to be fair, she also knows how to fuck herself onto daddy, her throat and her ass all pushing into your cock—the sculpture exists only as pure pornography. Again, this is contradictory to the existence of the work as it pertains to being contained only within the written word, because some may find the constant reference to its nonexistence distracting to the sole purpose of achieving orgasm. Either work of facetiae should be effective regardless because of the common tropes they use in their respective languages, both vivid enough to imagine you replacing the second person.

Chaeyoung would like to see how long you can stay distracted. She turns her head to find you half soft again.

“I’m going to my fuck my throat onto your cock right now if you keep ignoring me.” Her dirty words pull you out of your absent-mindedness. Maybe absent-mindedness isn’t the right word, you’re filled to the brim with thoughts of your assignment that you have to hand in.

Your phone vibrates in your drooping jeans. Pull it up, but her hands stop you as soon as you try to put your dick back in your underwear. “Sorry baby girl, I have to take care of this.”

“Hmph. Sure. Buuut, you can’t leave this room.”

“It might be something important.”

“Daddy! Do you want your cock cleaned or not?” It’s already clean enough, wiping it all over her pussy only makes it wetter. She takes initiative, not waiting for a reply as she squats on the floor in front of you, her head against the side of the desk.

Open your phone. ‘MN’, the contact name says.

“My house. Now,” the hushed voice says with a sensual vocal fry. 

Chaeyoung expectantly looks up at you and pouts before she taps on the soft spot behind your balls with her tongue. “Does this taste good, daddy?”

Seems to taste good for her. Your hardening shaft answers for you as she teases the most sensitive spot in your body. Her licks send chills as they circle back and forth from your ass to your balls, but she finds a place to settle down with, gurgling each ball in her mouth. You struggle to keep your voice straight. “I’ll be there. Soon.”

“Be where daddy? You’re not leaving until I’m done here.” Your eyes return to Chaeyoung below you, her face blocked out by your increasingly longer and firmer cock. Her eyes cross staring at your length, as though this is her first time, or as though it’s a beautiful work of art. Yours cross too but only half in gratification. All that and only one third of the way through. You have so much left to write.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Description

Mina is a painting. The painting is a large oil painting on canvas, much wider than it is tall, and it blends three scenes. They are all set in the front hallway of a house, though the details of the architecture are not explicit; there are even continuity errors between the different scenes. The only objects of import other than Mina and you that are depicted in the scene are a bench, a wall and a single incandescent bulb which serves as the source of light, though the background implies it is nighttime with dark windows past the subjects of the scene. While the strokes of the painted background are thick and use clear geometric shapes, both of the bodies are drawn in thin and light brush strokes. The artist does not ever separate the two from each other, as all of the scenes overlap. Mina is pale, the palest colors in the scene, and never painted with clothing, as her black dress with colorful accents is on the floor and fades as the scenes progress. You have your jeans on in the initial scene, but they disappear right after. The texture of the surface of the painting is rough.

The first scene, Mina is on her heels with her head against the wall. You lean over her with a hand on the wall, and your cock is in her mouth. There is a bulge in her throat. The door is open. The door is now closed in the second scene, but not fully. Mina faces the wall and needs two hands with her posture slightly bent forward, as faces the observer of the painting and a drop of your pearly seed is in the corner of the mouth. At the same time, you lean backwards when you stand behind her. Your cock is halfway inside of her slit while you try to find an angle to hit the fleshy spot inside her and make her cum so that she can clench around you and make you cum in kind. In the third scene, Mina bends down much further so that her hands are on the bench. The tip of your cock teases at her ass. Cum leaks out of her innie pussy, the hint of her lips that peek out glistening.

“Why were you so late?” Mina says as she drags down your pants and springs your cock free. It is late. Your dreams start to fill with the mundane, sitting on your laptop with only a single lamp that adds to the illumination on your face, such that you can't remember which words you've actually written and which are hallucinated.

Analysis

Not only is sexual activity between you and Mina depicted in the painting, but there are many different varieties of activities. There is a focus on the physical exertion and pure lust painted in the scene because though the painting is large, its size is used to display the small details in each type of action. When Mina takes her facefucking, her fingers are soft pliers as her hands grab onto your thighs. The background is painted in broad strokes yet the shadow cast in the pressure of your skin is drawn in painstaking precision given the source of light. As you work on thrusting into the impassioned woman, Mina’s brows furrow and makeup on her eyes and her lips are slightly smeared, certainly at the force of your usage of her throat. Her mouth is open in a wordless moan. Finally, the culmination of pleasure in her anal scene also portrays a contrasting struggle. In any other moment, she is the last girl to acquiesce for her wrongdoings. Mina would talk back whenever the opportunity arises and she is as cold as her exterior appears. Yet in the throbbing pangs caused by the mere tip of your cock in her asshole, Mina cannot speak. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth out of sheer stimulation.

The painting’s length is not used to depict a large single scene in landscape, but rather, the extensive use of the second dimension is to portray time. There is a lot of movement in the scene. The form of Mina is both lithe like a ballet dancer and thick in the right places. For as carefully as she moves to arouse, she is sloppy. This is just as, if not more, arousing to you, considering you are able to keep up your erection following two orgasms, though the visage of the both ravishing and ravished woman helps. In a single painting, Mina is portrayed from a routine act of being spoiled and haughty to a kitten completely subservient for your milk. After the first scene, the next scenes imply a preceding orgasm as more and more cum seeps out of her holes. The painting is chaotic in its shapes and brush strokes but extremely structured with the addition and removal of details in a clear linear temporal flow. The colors of the background are chaotic and saturated, though dark. Masses of blacks and indigos contrast with small shapes of yellow and pink that portray the scant light in the hallway.

The painted form contrasts with Mina’s particularities in some ways, while it’s also completely congruent in others. Being painted with cum is not her inclination, as she would rather your seed fill any of her holes before wasting it on her body, no matter how good it looks. However, the two-dimensional depiction serves this internal satisfaction, enjoying the feeling of cum whether in her throat or pussy, both warm and milking, or in her oppressively tight ass. 

There is no fourth wall in the house. The painting is staged like snapshots of a theatre production, the only evidence of a fourth wall being a front door that closes as the painting progresses from left to right, yet the fluidity of the second person painted allows a viewer to visualize in their mind the scenario in which they are that second person.

“Master. I—I didn’t mean to be so uppity. I just wanted your cum so badly. You, you already cleaned out my dirty mouth with your yummy cum, I don’t… know what t-to do. Here.” Mina presses up against the wall, squishing her tits. She wiggles her ass, rocking it back and forth as she tries her best to put your thickness in. “I’m not sure if my pussy is good enough, but, hopefully. You know, if you’re in the mood to breed your kitten as punishment, I know it’s not punishment but—fffuck. ”

You try to leave more notes for yourself to delete the detritus of dialogue but the only notes you write are left in your dreams.

Interpretation 

The creator of the actual piece of art in review, the metatextual analysis contained within the diegetic essay, uses the dryness of analytic description while mixing more prosaic language to create a novel form of pornographic writing. It is not written in a completely formal essay style as the limitation may be too challenging to advance the events of the basic overarching plot. There are many places where the structure of artistic critique is broken for narrative effect. As well, the second person perspective in writing is plainly not suitable for a true scholarly review, but it is used anyway to fit the more traditional format and allow a reader to self-insert. Again, the placement of the reader relative to the piece being called into question as it is right now can be gauged as a form of filtering for more discerning audiences. Most consumers of pornographic material utilise it for its intended purpose, as a masturbatory aid, and it would be reasonable to assume, not containing any of the required activating phrases that stand out to at first glance, written in a dry manner with academic filler words and longer than usual, that this paragraph would be glossed over. These readers focus on the explicit sexual moments recounted in graphic detail which is expected, and the structure of the piece allows them to skim through the text to find the sections that are more gratifying. However, by introducing a second level of criticism within the text, it provides an exercise for other readers, especially those who have already allowed the dopamine release formed from orgasm and have a more functioning lateral orbitofrontal cortex for logical thinking and decision making (known colloquially as “post-nut clarity”). In a less than sober state, the following paragraph would be much more likely to attract attention in the striking nature of its introductory sentence, though it is not guaranteed.

Now consider anal and the painting proper. Mina needs anal. While Mina is many other things, a complex human being with emotions and a unique life path that many others have not undertaken, she is also her ass in how she uses it to the fullest. This is an allusion to the many other works of sexual art involving Mina (for example, Peach’s Expensive or Locke’s Chapter 12 of Business Trip, Answers). By using the common association of her most significant asset and her defining action, the representation of "Mina" becomes valified in an observer’s mind, even if it shares only one third of the physical piece.

Similar to Mina’s movement in the painting, and the painting’s design principles overall, Mina’s personality shines through in the work with a level of carefully planned chaos. The dress which did not even last through one scene of the painting is not the kind of dress one would wear at home. It’s too pretty, too well-prepared, too easy to tear off in lust. Whatever Mina does not plan for is not important in her mind, she doesn't even care if the door is open initially. She assumes that just as she is thirsty for your cum, that you become thirsty as well, seeing her thighs below the hem of her short dress and the cleavage as you look down at her. Mina is right. As well, the lack of the fourth wall in the painting is an obvious parallel to a lack of fourth wall in the current story.

“Oh, master, you’re still hard. I think I’ve been a good enough kitten, right, master?” Mina smells like musk, cum, sweat, and all of sex combined. She mewls, not an actual thing that most people do unless they bend over to fully display the tight ring of their asshole for you. It puckers, not in fear but in expectation. Almost with the same pleasure found in orgasm, you push in and see black in pleasurable yet ineffable tightness, flushing out every other thought in your head. 

It’s funny. All your assignments are instantly flushed out of your mind as soon as the grammar is good enough. It's a lot like the 'exam effect', where if someone were to stop you on your blissful way out of the final examination and they were to ask you to take an exam on the exam you just completed, you would get a zero. Right, your dick is in a gorgeous girl’s ass, almost folded over in her foyer for your cock. You thrust.

Judgement 

A repetition of the judgement towards the writing contained within itself is omitted for both the writer’s and the reader’s sake, especially since this form of analysis must be repeated once more for the following work of art, wherein much more detail should be expounded upon. Rather, consider an independent appraisal of the painting. It is sexy because Mina is sexy, and Mina is the painting, but also because a clear and simple thread of the nighttime is detailed. There are many renditions of sexual activities, as it has been found even in sexual artefacts as old as those preserved in Pompeii and Herculaneum. This depiction is gratuitous and meets its desired pornographic objective. Its quality as a work of art must be high. Consider again the tautologies given about Mina. Since the painting is Mina, not symbolically but literally as it is a recollection of a human experience, and because Mina is a masterpiece, the implication is that the painting is nothing less than the artist’s magnus opus. This is not even through the artist’s ability but rather a consequence of Mina’s perfection, with everything from her alluring body and her controlled faces to her pure skill in sex. 

“Are you gonna clean up, kitten?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry master.” Cum from her ass falls onto your feet and from her folded position, she gets on her hands and knees to lick up the spilled semen.

“God, I needed to get this out of my system. I’m not sure I can stay the night.”

“But I can’t just play with all my holes alone. Idiot.” Mina crawls away. You cannot miss the way she sways her ass, she makes it impossible with how perfectly crafted it is.

“How about this? I'll stay here, and if I finish my work, we can play some more, okay?”

Mina crawls back and forth from her bedroom to the dining room where you finish your work on your laptop. Her face flushes significantly more and more each time, and she crawls with less enthusiasm and more intoxicated with your semen. She almost definitely takes some of her cum from her ass and eats it, considering that it leaks the least. Have to give yourself a pat on the back for not giving in tonight. Unfortunately, those are the easy parts to write since an individual subject is much easier to focus on. The rest of your assignment will be written on energy drinks and hope.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Mina and you sit in a cafe. You did not finish. Work on your assignment and Mina teases your thighs with her feet, kicking lightly at them. “Please. Hurry up.”

“How much do you think this is helping?”

“I don’t know, maybe I can stimulate some actual brain activity in your head.”

Chaeyoung enters the cafe and at first, her eyes grow in excitement seeing you, but you notice a falling shift in her expression when she quickly glances at Mina.

Mina and Chaeyoung have never met before today. You know Chaeyoung from a mutual friend at work, when sharing sketches turned into more frequent and intimate meetings. Meanwhile, you were in the same linguistics course with Mina in your first semester, both looking for easy marks, and a few tutoring sessions later, she was on your dick. There were no real opportunities their paths would ever cross, and there were never any agreements of exclusivity, but the courtesy should not have passed over your head.

Chaeyoung taps on the table to grab your attention, but even though you aren’t looking, she already has it. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were dating someone.”

“It’s not like that,” Mina says, curtly.

Stop typing for a moment. Your gaze swaps quickly between the two girls. “Right. I guess I should’ve, um. Yeah, maybe I could’ve introduced the two of you first.”

Mina looks Chaeyoung up and down. You notice her bite her lip but she doesn’t seem to realize it herself. “You could’ve. But, at the same time, don’t need to.”

“Well, do you mind if I join you?” Chaeyoung asks you. “I was just wandering around for a new coffee place to visit, but seeing as you’re here anyway, I might as well make a new friend.”

“Um. Yeah. That’s perfectly fine,” you say.

“So what're you working on?”

Mina scoffs. “He’s been stuck on that assignment forever and it’s due tomorrow. Dumbass. Doesn't even sound that hard.”

Description

Chaeyoung and Mina are a series of photographs. The photographs are taken on a Polaroid Land Camera Supercolor 1000 and printed on 3.5x4.5 inch print photo paper with white borders surrounding the image. The colors are relatively unsaturated for a printed photo. They are all set in your bedroom, lit by white sunlight. The series of photographs are not a video, nor are they a separate unorganized collection of images, but rather a sequence, laid out like a film strip. Each image is labeled with a number written in black Sharpie on the top-right. 

There are too many pictures to describe every picture in complete precision, though there are both individual frames worth considering and the overall scene depicted, even if it is not a video. For example, in image 9, Chaeyoung and Mina are laid out on the bed and stripped for film. They are framed in a top-down view, and it can be seen from your cock and legs that you stand above and between them. Each shot is varied, with many of the images blurrier and lacking any subjects. The only sign of activity is the view of legs that wrap around yours in the corner, a bit of hair not in focus. Other choice shots include a point-of-view where you lie in your bed and Chaeyoung and Mina are bent over, each with their bare pussy on your legs as Mina smiles tasting the head of your deck, while Chaeyoung is in a familiar position underneath your balls. There are also some shots that are not from your perspective but from one of the girls, such as when Mina sits on your face and grabs the camera from you to take a picture of Chaeyoung, mid-bounce with your shaft slick as she squats on you, or a very similar image except from Chaeyoung’s view and with Mina squatting in reverse as she thrusts your cock into her asshole. 

The number of condoms strewn about in the scene increases proportionally with the numbers in the corner of each image. Chaeyoung becomes more red with handprints, both yours and Mina’s. In both image 76 and image 85, Mina is on top of Chaeyoung who is on her back between your legs, however in the former image, she is more focused on eating the layers of cum from Chaeyoung’s tiny tits and the seed mixed with drool from her mouth, while in the latter, Chaeyoung is more in control with how she fingers Mina’s ass and spreads the cum from it on her nipples. The latter image also contains the only ejaculation depicted in the photographs, as Mina licks at the side of your shaft and you shoot all over each of their faces. In the final image, image 92, Mina and Chaeyoung kiss, Chaeyoung giving more of her share of the semen to Mina than she receives as they both reach for your cock once more.

The difference between each picture is irregular. There are some adjacent pictures almost exactly repeated with slight differences in position, while others depict completely new scenes. Some pictures are angled from above and some are level to the eyes. While a few are sparse pictures with distance between all the subjects, most are crowded with the shapes of human bodies overlapping. The volume of the room is small as the bed makes up the majority of the space in the scene. While the colors are faded, they are also bright as a result of the light in the room and the people inside the room, resulting in a palette of white and pastels.

“You strip first,” Mina says as she pushes you into the bedroom door with a kiss.

Chaeyoung holds her aside and takes her place. As you become light-headed already at the different flavors of the two women, Mina having the taste of cherry on her tongue, while Chaeyoung still has a leftover coffee scent much like yourself, Chaeyoung slowly pulls away and makes sure to stick out her wet tongue to make a point. “Now that’s not fair,” she says.

“What do you mean not fair?” you ask.

“Look at her body. I feel like such a little girl compared to her nice round tits and her perky ass, aren’t I daddy?”

Your cock stiffens, even without the help of Mina rubbing it over your sweatpants. “Master, do you really need more than one fucktoy in your life? Your kitten should be enough for you, you know.”

“Mmm, fuck. Maybe.”

Analysis 

There is no overarching structure to the composition of the shots. You, the photographer, create a sense of improvisation, portraying a realistic sense of awkwardness that arises from an impromptu threesome. However, there is a clear timeline described which is required to analyze the scene, starting from all parties being naked on the bed. Mina quickly loses her attitude when she plays her kitten role, licking and pawing at you to tease your legs and feet, while Chaeyoung gives daddy lots of kisses, on your torso, your neck, and on your face. The two girls give you a double blowjob, Mina not caring about anything else than making you explode with how she gags on your cock, while Chaeyoung lovingly plays with your shaft and balls in licks. There is disagreement but you fuck Chaeyoung's pussy, knowing that you would use Mina’s asshole later. The first orgasm is when you fuck Mina’s ass, where in one shot, your cock is mainly covered in Chaeyoung’s spit pistoning in and out of Mina, but in the next shot, your cock is creamy and her ass leaks semen around the head of your dick. You’re also eating Chaeyoung out as the new perspective of the photographs reveal that you are unable to see anything but Chaeyoung’s small slit and thighs on your face.

You fuck Chaeyoung again using a condom while Mina teases Chaeyoung with bites and kisses as she plays with her tits. The use of condoms indicate a lot of interplay between vaginal and anal sex for the sake of safety. This time, you pull out and, just in time, remove the condom as you cover every inch of Chaeyoung’s small frame with your load. As described earlier, they both return between your legs when Mina eats cum off of Chaeyoung's body with Mina on top of Chaeyoung and Chaeyoung fingers Mina's ass filled with cum and spreads it herself as you explode on her face with Mina’s oral service before they finally make out. The photographs allude to much activity before and after the events depicted in the scene. For example, they do not describe the short combative dialogue between them as they enter your apartment and they don’t show the few attempts of sex after even though you’re completely drained. 

As stated previously, the use of every component in the balance of each picture, from light and color to space and proportions, is accidental and wholly characteristic of impromptu, real-world photography, especially in action photos and photos that involve the photographer as subject of the photo. Any movement given in the shots arise from the natural movements of both the subjects and photographer in the heated passion of sex. By using photography and collecting the photographs in a series, the artist creates an artefact similar to memories. These memories can be then relayed to an audience and allow them to understand the dearth of emotions that you are going through.

“Kitten, weren’t you competing?” you teasingly ask Mina. 

“Hmm?” she says, the vibration of her moan as she licks at your cock’s tip sending you sparks in your brain. Her suction makes you feel drunk, as though your cock is a glass of water and Mina a thirsty woman in a desert. She slurps and laps you up, then brings you back down her throat.

“Daddy, ignore her, I’m doing such a good job.” Chaeyoung’s little tongue almost wraps around your balls and covers them in her saliva.

Your breathy groans agree with her assessment but Mina wants to pull your focus with the force of suction in her throat. She draws herself back up to breathe, and talks between panting. “But master’s cum is mine first. Pfoo.” Mina spits and dirties both your cock and Chaeyoung’s face underneath, though neither mind the mess.

Interpretation

The photographer intends this work as pornography, showing off their sexual prowess and ability to navigate two different relationships, possibly implying the intertwining of three different futures into one. The pictures outline the spirit of competition in action, which contributes to the gratifying quality of the art, since part of sexuality is ego. Past the obvious physical satisfaction, there is a further pleasure that people find in knowing they are loved or wanted. You, the photographer, are under the care of two women now, both extremely attractive in their own ways. There is a deliberate choice from the artist to create a simple contrast in preferences to accentuate the differences between the two women. Mina likes your cock, her hungry mouth and gagging throat making it very clear, but she needs your cum. Chaeyoung enjoys being coated, but she’s really there just for the feeling of your dick filling her up.

However, for the third time in the essay, the photographer doesn’t exist. Possibly up to this point, there are lines that have been blurred between three different creators, the makers of each art piece being critiqued, the writer who is critiqued in a metatextual fashion, and the reader. The reader, you, may assume you are a third party to the work. However, in the act of reading, you create your own reading experience. By calling to mind questions of separation often, it invites the observer to not think too hard about it.

“Master, don’t you love the way my body drains you all of your cum?” Mina says, bringing the weight of her ass down quickly onto your shaft and your whimpered moans elevate your tongue’s ability to taste Chaeyoung’s hole and tease at her aching clit.

“Daddy can’t hear you, you know? He’s too focused on, nghh...”

Comparison

The three pieces are all distinct in their presentation. Each presentation delves deeper into different perspectives and styles on the most natural human experience. The first, a sculpture, while given in the second person perspective, does not allow an observer to interact due to the lack of time passing. They are meant to reminisce on the possibilities implied within the work. In the second work of art, the painting, though the observer is pulled away from the literal eye camera point-of-view, it provides an almost film-like quality of recounting a tryst. The painting absorbs the dimension of depth from the sculpture not only to account for the medium but to also repurpose it in length. Finally, the photographs stretch the elongated nature of the painting to its furthest practical extent in physical visual media. It is also the brightest of the three forms, mainly due to its setting in the daytime, but also with the two girls’ skin color.

Despite containing the clearest amount of visual information, the photographs give the least implied physical movement. Both the sculpture and painting use contrast and smooth curved lines to direct a viewer in an explicit direction. Even though there are many natural motion blurs in the printed photographs, the motion is too unguided to guide an observer’s eyes. Also, there are many physical details those scenes have in common. Mina and Chaeyoung, in their individual pieces, wear short dresses that could match in some overarching fashion concept. However, the sculpture and the painting contrast in the way they use obscurity. The scene around Chaeyoung is a blur, as you’re too focused on her, who is in turn too focused on your cock. but every moment is a blur with Mina. The lack of continuity between the two pieces highlight your incongruity in having two separate friends with benefits who you have never introduced. You don’t consider the possibilities, and in a way, this brazenness is what allows your current circumstance in the first place, and it’s what allows the existence of the brash photograph artwork depicting a threesome. Any attempts from you to try to bring it up naturally between the two women may have resulted in complete failure.

While the sculpture clearly indicates a snapshot in a moment in time, the painting and the photographs both have a sense of forward time movement. They use their physical length to portray the progression of time and provides an immersive temporal experience for the observer, which is key in pornographic works, as sex is not experienced in single moments but as a culmination of time. The sculpture uses the most important goal of intercourse, the orgasm, to dramatize and highlight the literal and metaphorical climax, however, all previous and future events must be implied. On the other hand, the painting of Mina in her quick degradation of self-imposed morality and conceit carries over to the photographs. Just as quickly as she drops her fight against you in the nighttime, the daytime provides her no new reticence in accepting her position as your kitty. To contrast the painting and the photographs, the paintings are the least realistic in depiction, utilizing abstract shapes in the background and saturated colors, while the photographs are grounded in reality by means of their production. As well, while the former depicts the nighttime, the latter depicts the daytime, and their styles follow in palette, the cool dusk setting in windows as you use Mina thoroughly while the two girls are bathed in a warm but closer to white sun’s light as they work diligently to pleasure you.

Finally, the sculpture and the photographs both provide an explicit second person view, unlike the painting. The painting does not attempt to show the view from your eyes as you choke Mina with your cock, as you fill her holes with your cum, but the sculpture and photographs recount your story and your experiences through your eyes. Through the second person, they provide not only the sense of sight, which the painting has to imply to complete its gaps in information, but they provide all the other senses as well. In the sculpture of Chaeyoung, you can feel Chaeyoung’s dainty yet supple ass in your hands and you can hear the slaps collect in a single moment in time. With all three of you gathered in a picture, you can taste and smell in kisses, cherry and other fruits mixing with coffee and vanilla bean, while the physical exertion of sex under a torrid sun only cooled by your meager air conditioning degenerates the scene into sweat and the hormones of fucking. You are brought back into your memories through the use of second person.

Each art piece exists for the same explicitly pornographic reasons. All of the pieces come with the caveat of their unreality but the descriptions of how both girls are so dedicated to you and your body is brought out in all of the works. They all study the nude female form in great detail, to focus on external signs of pleasure and internal personality quirks. They all take advantage of varying levels of ambiguity brought out in a lack of detail to allow an observer to fill in gaps wherever necessary and also to focus on the most important part of the artwork, the two women, Mina and Chaeyoung.

“Master, your cum is soo delicious, I’m so lucky I get to eat this everyday,” Mina says, as though eating a fine Michelin star meal off of Chaeyoung’s body in some gimmick style restaurant. She makes sure to clean a bit of your leaking tip as well while the two girls lie on top of each between your legs, making out.

Mina’s frowns are adorable. It’s a never-ending cycle that you wouldn’t dare stop, how Chaeyoung fingers Mina’s tight slit and her even tighter asshole, to coax your load out of it and enjoy its stickiness on her body. The sight pumps blood back down to your loins again. “I can’t believe you’re getting hard again daddy. This is why I love daddy’s cock so much. Mwah. Mwah.”

Judgement

There is no single photograph in the collection that could be considered particularly inspired or original. However, it is the collection of photographs that creates the journey for the audience. It is the most grounded work of art in its necessarily realistic depictions of sex despite the unadmitted rarity of threesomes in the real world. For the same reason that explicit smut can have an arousing impact on a reader, the clarity of the details of the sexual encounter activates baser parts of the brain by reminding them that these sexual scenes indeed happen in the real world. Not only this, but the effectiveness as a piece of pornography should be the greatest out of the three works due to having both of the beautiful women in your life, Mina and Chaeyoung, at your beck and call, and also because it has the highest variety of sexual activity. There is more creativity that can be explored with the addition of the third person.

To truly appreciate the intent of the photographer would be to appreciate all of the artists. The sculptor, the painter, the writer, and the final artists, you, all of these mindsets during creation must be meditated upon. No matter which of these people are examined, one thing is clear: the creator is going crazy. It shows the danger in the allure of ideas. Even a simple prompt such as “art analysis smut” can easily stir a creator’s mind and cause them to rely too hard on absurdity. With a focus on plodding style over substance, the author sometimes regrets having to put so much work in, yet there is a certain amount of pride evident in the repetitive references to the author’s existence. The actual analytic portions of the work are loose, it is obvious the creator has no experience whatsoever in art criticism and that the work falls in any basic scrutiny. On the other hand, there is a brazen suredness in ensuring that perfection does not get in the way of betterment. There are many questions still unanswered and possibly even more brought up in the course of this analysis. Is this really hot? Is it possible to get your rocks off to this? Is this a worthwhile endeavour for any of its creators, the artist or the writer? This is left as an exercise to the third creator, the reader.

“Woo!” you say in a breathy shout, aware of the surrounding customers, raising a fist up. It’s not even close to midnight, you’re surprised at your writing speed. The art that you had to review certainly made it a lot easier, though it was still no small feat. Close your laptop and stretch your other hand up to meet your first hand.

“Daddy? Really?” Mina says, a bit loud for the small cafe.

Chaeyoung purrs mockingly. “Oh you’re in no position to judge, kitten.”

“Can we take this fight somewhere else?” you ask.

“Ooh, like the bedroom?” Chaeyoung says.

Mina rolls her eyes. 

Chaeyoung stares at her insistently. “We can settle this now or never.”

“Now,” Mina says as she crosses her arms.

There isn’t any argument from you, even if Mina easily accepts the false dilemma that Chaeyoung presents. It’s barely the afternoon. Mina and Chaeyoung each grab a hand, and you’re less than art with the way two girls handle you. It’ll be their turn soon enough.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

"34. Please schedule an appointment with me to review your work," the red pen on your paper states in neat print. "Regardless of whether or not you decide to meet with me, please do not use '✦✧' as a separator. They are inappropriate, among the many other issues in your work."

Nothing Wrong With Breaking the Rules (Momo)

“Momo, please. I know you’re tired from filming, you can just go home. Ugh.”

“Something wrong, baby?”

“No. No, not at all.”

“Really? It sounded like—ahh—you really don’t want me to lick this. Ahhh.”

“Oh, sh—shit.”

“Mmmm. Mwah.”

“You should, hah, probably let me finish by now. You know, if you wanna follow your rules.”

“Rrrr… rules. Tell me. You think you’re allowed to be here?”

“Ffff… fuck. No. I guess, I guess not.”

“Pah. So how much do you think I care about rules then?”

“But you said it yourself. Ngh, you, you promised. Twice a day. Once to taste in the m—morning and a sss… second time to clean me. Oh god.”

“Hlk. Guhk.”

“Fucking, hell. You’re so good. I, um. I’m gonna pull your hair now.”

“Mm! Mhm!”

“Okay, good. I’ll just take a bit and tug. Please… I’m right there. Please, lemme paint your throat. I know you love the taste and how much Please, yes, just like that, I love how your eyes look when you take it all the way—No. No, no, aww. Tss.”

“Glk, gah. Ahhh. Hooo, I need a breath, lemme rest my head on your thigh here, my knees hurt a little. Well, babe, why do you think I have that routine?”

“All these rhetorical questions, I can’t, I can’t focus with you down there. C—can’t you just let me finish?”

“I’m not even touching you anymore! You’re so cute you know.”

“Hehe, ah. Ha, ah! Dammit. It’s just your chin on my leg tickles.”

“No, I know you just love the way I look.”

“Yeah, pre-cum and spit on your chin match the mascara and eye-shadow real well.”

“Hah. That’s too good, your face looks even better when I leave this big boy alone for two seconds. Like you just lost your mommy in the grocery store, poor thing. Anyway, lemme wipe that off your thigh. Might as well get this hand a little more wet. Ptoo. What was I saying?”

“I don’t know, you were quizzing me? By the way, those nails, they’re uh, nice. I like the dark blue. But those fingers are heavenly.”

“Babe, come on, little late for flattery at this point, you think I’m gonna waste your load on that? Oh yeah. What I wanted to say is, those rules aren’t some law I chiseled into stone.”

“You get me rock hard anyway. Ahh! Did you have to flick it?”

“Stupid. See, they’re more like guidelines I set for myself. You know, it’s like a diet. The goal is to lose weight, right?”

“Not sure I still get it. Oh, that’s it, my balls.”

“They’re so full. Mmm. Is this gonna make you pop?”

“No, just keep going.”

“Ha. Thought so. You said that so fast, baby. Now, if I’m trying to lose weight, of course some limitations are gonna help. But I need me a cheat day, I gotta have ‘em, otherwise I’m gonna go crazy.”

“I think I see but now I forget how we got onto food and craziness.”

“You know babe, it’s impossible to have a conversation with you. Attention span of two seconds all 'cause I’m massaging your sack.”

“Seems like you’re having fun on your own.”

“Yep, puh. The point is, I was away for like a week right?”

“Yeah. So it’s like some sort of reward for me then. Damn. I know I’m a good boyfriend, but I didn’t know it was two servings a day good.”

“Nope, puh. In fact, it’s probably the opposite. From way before. It’s like a punishment for me. Remember how much time we wasted when we first got together?”

“Right, you almost got in serious trouble. It’s like we were attached, mouth to tip.”

“Ha, yeah. Good times. Well, I learned from then that I had to limit myself.”

“Ohhh, I think I really get it now. It’s like eating—”

“Go for it, say it, good one.”

“Jokbal, okay, I’m not that funny.”

“Aww. I’ll give you a pass this time, I’m sure this is basically torture. You’re a lot funnier when you’re not horny.”

“Thanks. Um. So. How long are we gonna keep doing this, Momo?”

“Well, you’re in luck, babe. We’re done all our work for today at least. We’ll even have time tomorrow. Mwah. Mwah. Almost soft again, wow. Mmmm, mwah. I know I had my principles, but again, once in a while? Nothing wrong with breaking the rules. That means I get to have this cock all to myself for a whole 24 hours. I guess the schedule is a little messed up. You know, I clean your cock first, then I get to taste your morning cum. I guess you’ll probably cum on my face or my tits a few times in between. Ahk, ahk.”

“How about your throat? Like right now. Oh god, it’s so tight, and warm and I’m gonna cum, nnn, nnn, noo, not again!”

“Ahgh, ahh. Shh. It’s alright baby. Don’t worry. This dick will be in my mouth all day. See, you’re smiling ear to ear now.”

“Well, you just sound so proud.”

“I am! It’ll be just like the good old times.”

The Body Floats Away (Bona)

Bona needs to focus. Most wouldn’t consider an opulent house like yours to be a haven for relaxation. However, you justify typical walls of glass with sprawling plant life, enough to survive in outer space with the home. Well, probably not really, but it smells nice and keeps your hands busy.

It’s not exactly a watering type of midnight. Not flora at least.

The human body is quite buoyant with the right salinity. Your bath is the perfect size to decompress. Bona does just that, keeping her head right above, tracing her face with a ring of water.

You’re tranquil like you’ve never been before. Breathe in, then a while later, out. She can’t hear you, but the air in the room is so still, she can sense it on her face from far away. It’s all Bona can sense. A blindfold, earplugs, near complete darkness with the faint glow from your watch.

You need that light. Take the bathtub laptop stand—need that bath productivity—and position it above her waist but instead of a laptop, some small bottles, a waterproof wand massager, a book and a short string that can carry the wand.

Lower the vibrator carefully until it hangs right on her clit. Turn it on.

Her whines overtake the constant whirring. She’s not bound in any way but the water compels her to relax and in her relaxation, Bona keeps her pussy on the toy. However, she’s disciplined. Bona understands her own body well, and calms her squirming legs to disconnect from the massager before she cums. Even as the toy vibrates the water around her pussy, Bona still contorts her face at the perceived intensity.

Be careful when you squat over that face. It’s too pretty to slip and fall on. Hold a handle on the wall with one hand and the side of the bathtub on the other as support. However, it’s a lot easier to keep your position above her.

After all, the human body is quite buoyant with the right salinity.

Take each mini bottle of lube. You can’t even read them yourself with how dark it is, even with your watch, so you smell each one instead. Pick one, then squeeze a few drops where it belongs. Pinch Bona’s nose and rub the head of your cock on her lips.

“Chocolate?” Bona whispers warm air on your cock.

Pull it away and lightly tap her cheek.

“No? Can’t tell without smell.”

Going to need a few more drops then. You can only imagine the sight of Bona pouting on your dick, but the physical feeling will have to do.

A drawn-out exhale warms it further. “I really can’t think of anything other than chocolate.”

Tap on her cheek harder. It’s coffee. Those are pretty distinct in your mind, but it really must be hard without scent.

“Fine. Next.”

Her cheek is probably red with the imprint of your cock. Can’t figure out lime, blue raspberry, cherry or cotton candy. You’d think she’d get cinnamon, but it’s just tingly. She doesn’t even taste the cream flavor. No, that’s not how your cock normally tastes. To be fair, you’ve probably misled her with the deepthroat practice sessions, putting whipped cream on top of your shaft.

Only one bottle left. One hand to spread the sticky liquid, the other to grip her nose. She holds your cockhead carefully in her lips, licks at it inside her mouth, and swirls her tongue for a while. Bona leans her head forward to claim her reward early then pulls back to her lips with a confident slurp before you can do anything.

“Strawberry!” Bona says, not knowing how loud she says it.

Smile even if she can’t see it either. Finally, instead of depriving Bona with a slap, insert your shaft all the way to the back of her throat. She gags a bit but you know she’s smiling. Those are happy gagging sounds after all.

“Mmm, guh, ahh…” A bit of pre-cum when you drag your tip on her tongue flopping out of her mouth. “I got it right? Yes! Can I get more of my prize?”

Insert your cock into her mouth while still pinching her nose. Down and out, again and again. As Bona holds her hips up to the vibrator again, the sweet fruit mixes with more of your cum.

Bona knows everything. Her awareness of every touch only heightens as she comes ever closer to her end. She knows the taste and smell of strawberries and how it coats your dick. Well, not as much anymore with her spit substituting it. With her ears blocked, Bona doesn’t necessarily know that you’re groaning before you explode, but she’s so experienced with her lips, she can tell when your cock throbs.

Bona only thinks she knows everything. That’s the point of senses, to truly understand the surroundings. Her assumed knowledge doesn’t replace her world in the present, a world that brightens to a brilliant white, where her empty mind detaches from her overwhelmed body. It’s how she misses the fact that she hasn’t had a breath since you inserted your cock and pinched her nose. However, the lack of oxygen only strengthens her orgasm as she craves. Her eyelids shut tighter behind her blindfold, her limbs swing in the water like a beginner swimmer, and you fill her mouth with saltiness like the water but more viscous. Bona doesn’t even take a moment to swallow your seed before the pulses subside.

“Hoo…” she says as she sits up, shakes the water off her face and breathes out for a long time. “Finally. Did it.”

The skylight slowly opens to moonlight with a button.

Cuddle for a while, floating in the water.

Some tactical strawberry cake in the fridge. It was a pain getting all those desserts that match the flavors. It’s worth it the way she drools at one sniff of the cake.

Sanctified Rituals (Minju, Nako, Hitomi, Yuri)

Five minutes can be a long time.

Especially in the eyes of the deity.

“Yes, my lord.” A reverent yet haunting chant echoes the mass, all from the reverberant harmony of four girls—no, women—now celebrating their entrance into a world much larger than them.

You’re restful, eyes on them kneeling in front of the altar.

This was all prophesied in the texts.

Baptize your blessed in salt, more quenching than water, with life to replace death.

Minju. Nako. Hitomi. Yuri. They are the chosen few from the favored year. You have accustomed yourself to these names over the months, as each of them became eligible in their maturity, training and preparing all for this one moment.

Minju was a sinner in her past life with how innocent and contrite she is in this life. Though the eldest, she took the longest to warm up to your sacred scepter. On your sacred scepter. All over your sacred scepter.

On the other hand, Nako was eager. Too eager. You understood in a sense, as you were once treated callow before you underwent the teachings yourself. She made up for her lack of experience with wanton worship.

There would not be retribution from you for her continuance of oral tradition.

You had your own share of guilt. At times, instead of inscribing the outside of Hitomi’s cheeks with your exalted emission, you would stay inside of her wet hole and waste your seed, for selfish reasons unlike the ancient prophets that sought shelter in warm caverns to hide from corrupt rulers.

Yuri was one of the most difficult to work with. Not out of any purposeful defiance on her part, but out of the threatening fullness of her lips each time you used them to acclimatize her to the feeling of your thick and swollen tip. Compared to the others, it was as much work for you as it was for her.

However, the almighty provides. He gives you the miracles you need, an infinite amount of seed, a removal of the refractory period that demons cursed humans with thousands of years ago. He gives a fortune that only true apostles may hold as head of the church. Some may envy others in powerful positions. Political leaders, celebrities. The head of companies.

There can be no jealousy in your heart. Even if it weren’t a sin, you have no reason to covet the worldly possessions of others. You are here to service the good of humanity.

Look down upon your beloved celebrants. From beneath your robe, pull out your member, solid as the foundation of your faith. The fabric parts like a sea around your shaft, though it appears more like a waterfall split by a cylindrical rock.

Though they are supposed to appear solemn, each of them hold back a smile, a pout, a pleading glint in their eyes.

Their outfits are simple, suitable for church, perfect to not call attention to their curves. Notably, everyone is dressed in white tees and blue jeans, as true workers should be. Dishonesty is a sin of its own, you must admit Levi’s look good on their bodies. A more wicked man may notice the finer earthly details such as Nako’s surprising shapeliness traced by her shirt.

Despite powers from heaven, it doesn’t stop the fear in your hearts. This fear is natural, it’s the fear of god, it’s the fear of failure, it’s the fear of inadequacy that all of mankind has. Other places would mock your speed. But this is not some place of carnal desire where your mission is to waste away in lustful pleasure.

Five minutes can be a long time.

Silently, they take their fill, one by one.

Savor in their obedience just as the lord does in yours. First, Minju. Stroke yourself slowly. She closes her eyes and looks up at the sky while kissing your rod. Minju has become a very good girl. A short exhale from your nose and you say a prayer in your heart. It comes out as a grunt. Nako breaks the ritual for a moment, dipping your tip into her mouth. You’ll punish her for that later. The next minute, Hitomi sees her fellow worshipper’s mistake and dutifully rests her hands on her thighs and puckers her lips. Finally, give Yuri the final load, splitting the burden between the four girls.

Silence once again.

In the fifth and final minute, they clean the source of their life with their tongues and lips, giving it a kiss to seal their covenant.

Now that the four of them are covered with salvation, the other congregants in their pews stand up and clap for the newly christened women.

They walk back to their seats, unable to hide the joy on their faces. Though they will wash off the physical joy later—maybe not Nako, she would go above and beyond adoring the seed—they are permanently cleansed. Not only will they return on each holy day for a renewal of their promise, but they may seek you personally to acknowledge and repent for their sins.

That’s what the hole in the confession booth is for.

“Let us pray.”

BarelyLegalGirls2021Scene9.mov.exe ft. Jiheon

“Isn’t this shit kinda exploitative?” you say in the dressing room. Well, it’s more of a big closet, but the porn set is just a house anyway.

“Dude, she’s eighteen, right there on the driver’s license,” the director says. He has tribal tattoos, a puka shell necklace, and honest-to-goodness flame patterns on his dress shirt. His existence alone would revive Friendster in 2021. The smell of his Axe—Phoenix?—body spray is so heavy, he would kill it again in 2022 when people smell him through the internet.

Baek Jiheon, April 17, 2003. Hate the way the light draws attention to the date, even if she isn’t much younger than you. “I guess I feel weird about it.”

He taps his foot. The guy looks like he has to dedicate all his brain’s resources to do it. "So like, when does it stop becoming weird?”

“Uhh… Eighteen and a half?"

"Okay, so. Um, what if we shot this a day earlier than that then? Hmm?”

Tilt your head.

“How 'bout two days earlier? A week?”

“Wait, wait, wait a sec. I know where this is going.”

“Okay, chill, when she’s not legal, stop there. Whatever. But like, actually think. Man ain't bald 'til there ain’t hair on his head.”

"Wow. Didn’t know Eubulides was a sleazy porn director."

“The fuck Obladi Oblada you talkin' about? Fuck you, I’m not sleazy. Anyway, you ever check the actual legal age?”

“What the fuck! Eugh.” Crease your face in disgust. “Fuck's wrong with you?"

“Get off your high horse. Remember Friday? "

Petite, smiley blonde, small breasts, easy to work with and handle for the scene.

"She was like, so coked out of her mind, she could’ve changed her name to Tuesday with how little she paid attention even though it was like Wednesday in the first place!” He waves his arms in the air, as if he said something so clever.

“Whatever you say, dude.”

“What? Not funny? I’m just saying! None of this shit’s real man. It’s all legal. Who cares? At least don’t feel weird about the bag. Plus you know, like, getting to fuck a tight young bod. Heh. Hehe.”

The director gestures at the outline of a human-sized Coca Cola glass bottle, then proceeds to spank it, having a great time imagining air jiggle even when you walk away.

You find Jiheon in the bathroom, touching up her makeup. Her pink hair stands out to your eyes at first. She looks more like someone who would make subpar Onlyfans content rather than gonzo porn. To be fair, she would make bank doing it when you catch a glimpse of her adorable face and the curves, especially on her waist. The sash really accentuates how fit she is. But you have to stop yourself from apologizing before saying anything else. 

“Ahem. Look, I gotta say, I’ve fucked a lot of girls.”

“That’s good,” Jiheon says without sarcasm, nonplussed at your confession. Her eyes swivel and strike into yours.

“Wh-what I mean is, I don’t say this often, or at all really, but if you need help or something...”

“Wow.” Her lips exaggerate opening to say the word. “I’m getting a porn actor to simp for me. Really?"

“Huh?”

Jiheon caresses your muscles. “Oppa, tell me, why do I need help?”

Avoid her eyes before you eventually reply. You don’t mean to back her up to the mirror. Her thighs squish against the corner of the sink as she leans backwards, but she shows no discomfort. Jiheon’s not really the one stuck in a corner. “Okay, you got me, you fucking got me. The fuck are you doing here?”

“Tsk. I wanna hear it,” she says in a sing-songy voice.

You sigh. “I’ll put it in plain words. I fuck six to sevens caked in makeup. Do anything else. For fuck’s sake, sell ice cream in the winter and put your face on the advertising. Why are you here?”

“Doesn’t sound like plain words.”

“You’re too pretty to be here. Get out. Touch grass and smell the morning air, please.”

“Isn’t that the best part? Seeing a cute innocent girl like me become a slut for porn?” 

Your mouth falls out of your mouth. Jiheon's mouth curls into a smile. It’s blinding. 

“But what if I like being fucked by strangers?” she asks, her voice rising. “Plus you’re guaranteed to have a nice cock! Soo, you said you fucked a lot of girls before right?”

Nod slowly. She turns around, bends over on the sink and licks at her lipstick. Her asscheeks poke out from under her shorts.

“Well, I’m an adult now. Fucking use me like one.”

You really do have a crisis of faith. Why are you here? Is this really right?

It lasts two seconds with Jiheon wiggling her ass.

What an ordeal, getting your porn-approved cock to fit between her denim shorts—Levi’s fits well around her legs—but you’re in such exhilaration that you don’t bother with stripping.

“Oh? Really? You’re gonna miss the hole like that?” she asks teasingly.

Slide up and down between her legs. Your lips rest on her neck, but your touch has to be light, don’t want to have to redo the makeup. Then again, you look at her in the reflection. A hickey before she even starts would suit her. Could really play up the promiscuous angle in the scene. 

“I wasn’t going for that. Your legs looked great but I had to check if they felt just as good,” you say.

“Do they?” 

It’s more like her wetness is doing the heavy work of making her texture feel great, but you let her know anyway. “They do.”

“Now that’s that good dick I was looking for, f-fuck.”

As your cock slips into its desired home, Jiheon smirks in the mirror as she reverses her butt into your crotch, trying to hold in her volume. She has you wrapped around her finger. Well, her pussy’s the one doing the wrapping with its incredible friction, even tighter than the fabric of her shorts, but you take no time to consider the consequences. Grab onto the sash around her waist and thrust up. Each one is its own event, which is incredible considering how many girls you’ve fucked. Every fold is magnified on your sensitive shaft, the slippery walls clasp and ease perfectly in sync with yours. You only get a dozen or so in before you’re interrupted.

“Filming in ten!”

You might be thankful for the interruption. It’d be embarrassing cumming in a minute after all the talk. Her tightness drags you along by the cock for a few steps anyway before she lifts her ass, disconnects herself from you to earn a grunt from your throat, and then skips away.

“So, my bud here was having a little dilemma or something,” the director says. Look away from his gaze.

Jiheon looks at him, then the camera, then back at him. “Oh, I don’t think there’s gonna be any problems here. Isn’t that right, oppa?”

“Yep. Great.”

The two of you practice your positions on the couch and take some promotional pictures before the main event. There isn’t much of a script other than the physical action, just like how there isn’t much of a crew other than a lighting guy, a mic guy and the director, now a photographer. You don’t actually penetrate her in the photos, finding clever cinematic angles in more exposed states of dress. When she takes her solo shots for the cover, you note her modeling ability. She really could be doing anything else, but instead she’s here, choosing to get paid to fuck on camera.

You have a feeling it isn’t even about the money at all. 

“Pose. Pose. Pose.”

Can’t really move. Jiheon is on top of you, her ass weighing down on your dick in a reverse cowgirl stance, though her legs are in between yours as though she’s giving you a lapdance. With each “Pose”, she drags her ass back. Forth. Back and forth. Bite your tongue to not let out some stupid moan.

“Hey girl, what’s that on your neck?” the director asks.

“Oh, we just had a little, hmm, practice session,” Jiheon replies.

The director rounds his mouth. “W-well, you should’ve filmed that.”

“Good point!” Jiheon looks back, her bare, perfect pussy bearing down on your cock. “Next time,” she says in a loud whisper.

Her entrance swathes your cock and a single motion would wriggle it inside.

Jiheon does more than a single motion.

“Damn, is this recording?” The director says, setting his DSLR down for the larger camera. “Whew, it is.”

The light bounces off her milky skin and you’re blessed to receive that light, to watch that ass bounce over and over again on your cock. She goes for a long time, the director taking the film camera and putting it next to your face.

“Yes, yes, yes, I fucking love this cock,” she rasps.

Light guy mirrors the director and puts his thumb up in approval to let Jiheon know this is great footage. 

Girls usually need lube to ride you with this kind of intensity. Clearly, Jiheon isn’t a usual girl. 

Match Jiheon’s pace to create photogenic ripples on her ass. As it turns out, Jiheon is built to be on camera because her juices are delectably creamy around your shaft and her lips grip in a way that would make any viewer jealous. Most other guys would be done here too, not a chance they’d last this long with Jiheon riding for her life. 

Good thing you’ve had your beauty rest. Fucking two other girls in a day also helps, but the most important thing is counting in your head to distract yourself. It’s a bit like counting sheep to try to sleep, but instead it's the number of thrusts into her pussy to focus and last longer.

Jiheon dismounts and lays on top of you. Her soft tits press against you as she kisses and her nipples are firm enough to tickle your chest. The ends of your tongues meet like she’s trying to make her ends meet. No, it’s too passionate to be about money.

Maybe she’s a great actress.

“Alright, that’s probably enough of that. Put your clothes back on by the way, we gotta get a striptease for the camera,” the director says.

She licks at the string of spit between her lips before she picks her clothes back up from the floor.

Past the first bit, there’s little improv and the porn scene goes nearly to script. You can tell Jiheon is a great dancer. Her form is much more graceful than the other clumsy girls who can barely pull their panties off without tripping. To be fair, she has a bit of trouble taking hers off herself. The wet spot in her pink panties isn’t just decorative, she has to peel the sticky thing. Guess you should’ve filmed the preliminary scene after. Then again, yet again, it looks great on camera.

Jiheon takes off her halter crop top and her simple black bra with a flirty wiggle as she pulls the clothes up.

Interrupt her to add one more moment of unrehearsed content. “Keep that waist strap thing. It’ll look great, really shows off how tight your curves are.”

“I know it’ll do more than look great. And I know some other things that are tighter,” she says with a playful lilt.  

Her smile is maddening. It’s cheeky, almost as much as her cheeks, and the corners of her mouth turn up in a way that makes you want to fuck her face. That’s not in the script though. You’re content with what is. Sit on the couch with your hands behind your head. The director circles around the two of you as Jiheon kneels in front of you, then he settles on a spot above your shoulder to get your point of view.

What a gorgeous point of view. Jiheon stares and crosses her eyes at the firm length on her nose and mouth. “It’s so big and mouth-watering. Mhm.”

“Suck my dick then. Make your mouth water,” you say.

She pouts and nods, then licks at it, all the way from your balls to right beneath its tip. Jiheon rests her tongue there for a moment. “Ahhh. You wike the way my tongue feehs on yoh cock?”

“Yeah, that’s the ticket, baby.”

Jiheon takes a sniff from top to bottom, revelling in your length as she slobbers from head to base. Then she takes it down her throat at once while her tongue drags along the bottom of the shaft. She knows exactly how to spit the right amount to create strands that shine in the harsh light before she slurps it up. 

“That’s right,” you say, noting her eye for detail when she looks up at you but quickly focuses back on the camera. 

Those eyes flutter and plead as though she doesn’t already have exactly the cock she wants. Jiheon’s gags are few and far between, but she adds the lewd noises that everyone craves such as vibrating moans that signal just how much she enjoys the dick in her mouth.

Grab her dyed hair. It’s sweaty, the ends are covered in spit and precum, and it’s all frazzled. Her makeup is much the same.

“You look pretty like this though. That’s right, you’re such a gorgeous little cocksucker, aren’t you? Down girl.”

Still on her knees, she turns around and gets her hands on the floor as well. You kneel too, lining up your cockhead with her entrance with one hand while the other gives her ass the slaps it deserves. You also slap her perfect pussy with your shaft three times before you propel forward. The tightness of her lips succumb to the width and you have to hold in your groans. 

Don’t wanna be that guy that selfishly fills the audio with your sounds of pleasure, even though you know women watch this too and enjoy your noises. Instead, you consciously manage a fair mix of sound. The wet slapping of your waist against hers, your moans, her moans. 

Ten. Twenty. Thirty.

With a finger curling against the corner of her mouth, she sucks on it happily like it’s your dick.  To be honest, you do it to cut Jiheon’s only amateurish habit of repeating “Yeah, yeah, fuck, yeah” to let the viewer’s ears breath.

Good to know you’re putting a smile on the sound guy’s face too.

She’s right, it does more than look great and of course, you already know from your earlier rehearsal, but the sash on her waist is even better fucking her in doggystyle. It’s unfortunate you have to switch positions every five minutes, though you’re a bit thankful, you need to last as well. Jiheon is too great at pressing her legs together to squeeze your cock.

However, changing stances so often also gets tiring. Cowgirl. Missionary on the couch, with you on top, holding her chin and whispering sweet nothings, then her on top, nibbling at your ears and lips. You even pick her up, her legs around your waist and your hands on her butt. Jiheon is just perfect to hold in your arms as you thrust into her.

“Use me, stud. Use me like the fucking toy I am,” she whispers. “Break me in. Show me what a porn star can do. Be honest. You like fucking someone as young as me right? You love ruining eighteen year old girls with this cock, turning them into addicts. I think I might be too. I think I might be too. I think I might turn into a fiend for this dick, you know that? You’re a bad person. Ff, fuck but you have a great cock.“

You don’t mind leaving some things off the record. 

You’ve lost count. Who cares about records?

The director has to tap on you to remind you you’re on film. “G-great. Great scene, really passionate.”

You hate him a bit but it helps. You would carry her all the way to your home and continue this scene without an audience without the reminder. As well, while you definitely enjoy your job, you appreciate the breathers before the facial scene.

“Oppa, what’s the syringe for? Gonna give me my third dose or something?” she says, hitting your arm where it’d be vaccinated.

“Right, we didn’t tell you, this is a lot better anyway. It’s just moisturizer and lotion that looks like a heavy load.”

Jiheon sticks her lip out. “Wait really? But, but, I really want your cum on my face.”

A breath through your rounded mouth. “Maybe we can do that later.”

Even as you stroke your dick with two hands, you have trouble holding your climax in for the first time in a long time. Usually the camera guy blocking a view of the girl’s face helps stop that. You attribute it to Jiheon’s zealous pre-production, though it’s more like a pre-game instead; she looks sufficiently cock-drunk on her knees. She seems unsure what to do with her hands, whether to put it on her thighs obediently or help you along with your handjob, but it’s too late when she takes her hands off her knees.

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” you say in a low voice as the director spurts the fake load from above the camera. The white viscous fluid gets all over her cheeks, eyes and tongue. She tries her best to appear excited as she licks at the goo around her mouth and spreads it but you know there’s a bit of disappointment in her face.

“Aaand cut. Seriously, great scene everyone!” 

Everyone claps, so you join along.

As you learn quickly, Jiheon is quite the method actor, she loves immersing herself in her role. Jiheon pulls you aside to the bedroom and keeps that same expression, not bothering to put on clothes while the film crew wraps up. She even takes off the final article of clothing, that sash, and gives you a show while she’s at it, turning around and flaunting her perky ass as she pulls the fabric down 

“So, we are working together again right?” 

“Can’t say I mind.” It’s pretty funny how quickly you accept your change of pace, but you’re already here anyway.

“I’m really looking forward to our creampie scenes,” Jiheon says with a huge grin. She aligns your cock in her squat, while you lie down on the dusty bed, your hands unable to react.

“Um, I’m not paying you for this.”

“Doesn’t sound like a no to me. And sure you are, mmm,” Jiheon moans when she grabs your cock and teases her pussy lips with your tip.

Her noises of pleasure are more realistic than in her scene. Or at least she doesn’t sound like a dentist—it’s like all amateurs make the same hissing inhale sounds.

“This dick is great payment.”

Her enthusiastic ride on top also starts much like in the scene, but it becomes a tight embrace as you sit up against the back of the bed. Her lap slams into yours. You’re closer to a bumbling virgin than porn star, doing nothing while this irresistible girl—woman—jumps up and down on your dick. Warm pulses inundate your body, sealing the deal.

“Sorry, I don’t think, hah, I’m gonna last too long.”

“That’s fine, this was supposed to be my cum earlier.”

You growl while your pistoning speeds up. “Shit, I’m gonna fucking, I’m gonna—”

“Cum inside? Yess. Do it. Do it, do it, cum inside, cum inside my pussy, paint my little pussy, coat it, fucking give it all. Please, please, pleease.” Even when she’s not being recorded, Jiheon sings a dirty song and wraps her legs around your waist like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do. 

Somehow, Jiheon clamps around your cock even harder and you can’t do anything but seal her lips in a deep kiss. One pump, two. You always count. But now all you can count are the seconds that your brain is mush as you give Jiheon the creampie she wants. You explode inside of her, everything throbbing and writhing, so all she does is hold you and kiss you tighter. Her lips are sealed but you can hear her mumble words of appreciation in your mouth. Again, Jiheon’s juices lather your cock white, but this time when she dismounts slowly, you can see your cum’s contribution. 

Maybe it doesn’t play as well on film, but real semen looks great being cleaned up by an eager mouth with Jiheon’s face hastily finding your crotch. It’s soft again and maybe a little sore because she hasn’t stopped sucking away, but the blood rushes back to your loins as quickly as it left.

Jiheon spreads her ass prone on the mattress in front of you and you’re like steel once more.

She turns her head and smirks again. That’ll definitely be a signature look for her in the future. “We should get the camera for this one. Your load’s gonna look really good dripping out my pussy onto your cock.”

Jiheon pulls on her cheeks further. Her gooey lips almost refuse to part, like two lovers unsure if their relationship is worthwhile, stuck together only by circumstance—circumstances in this circumstance being a string of girl cum and your cum.

“C’mon... daddy.”

With your sore, throbbing cockhead, you help them break up. 

What a messy breakup. 

This shouldn’t be on camera. 

However, you can’t deny the picturesque allure of Jiheon coating your shaft in circumstance.

Maybe More Like Five (Yoohyeon)

“I fucking hate you by the way, fuck,” Yoohyeon blubbers. “Please, just. Faster.”

“I can’t, you’re—damn.” Erratic breaths through your nose. “You’re so damn tight.”

Yoohyeon would have horrible posture if she were speaking to an audience, considering how she bends over the podium. Her hands are flat on the wooden surface where notes would usually be and her arms tremble, her voice too.

Someone walking in would initially assume that she’s anxious as she practices delivering a speech. The intruder would quickly find out she isn’t from the quivery moans that test the acoustics of the lecture hall. Yoohyeon doesn’t care. She only has one thing on her mind, and even as that thing leaves her body, it stays in her mind, knowing it’ll be back inside a millisecond later.

Her buttcheeks are like loaves; you want to bite into them. Don’t have that kind of flexibility standing behind her, so you knead them with firm fingers instead, as if unbaked dough. Then, like how your width splits her cheeks apart, your knees split her legs the same way. It brings no resentment to your heart to do so since it brings you deeper, but it’s not something you want to do—rather, you need to do it to release her pussy’s pressure on your shaft.

Slow down and admire her voluptuous body, even under her clothes. There was no time to pull off more than your respective bottoms halfway down. Yoohyeon’s annoyed face when she looks back is just as sexy as usual, maybe even more so. It’s because you know the truth behind her irritation.

She forgot her nice pen.

You forgot to fuck her earlier today.

“Don’t tell me you’re just staring at my ass, ngh.“ A sharp inhale between her pursed lips. “I’d be tighter if you’d stop teasing me and just fucked me harder.”

“No, then you’d be wetter. Ahh, ah, sshii… Right now you’re as tight as it gets. The way I go in and…”

Linger on the moment. Slick slowly sleeks your cock as you slide.

“Out.”

“That’s not,” Yoohyeon’s tense voice turns into a slight sob, “unfh, it’s so good but it’s not enough.”

“What do you want? Say it. Out loud.”

“I wanna cum on your cock! Please.” The neediness in her voice always made your cock twitch.

“Give me your hands.” She relaxes her elbows and lets her face fall to the top of the stand. Her wiry wrists fit in your right hand and her ponytail becomes a bundle in the other.

“You better fucking destroy my pussy,” Yoohyeon says with regained acerbity.

Swift and brash strokes of your brush fulfill her request.

After enough of those strokes to draw a bit of paint from you, pull her up by the hair and hands so that she can stand straight and so that you can nuzzle her neck. Your robust arms wander to her chest under her hoodie, holding her perky tits together. Delicately, you sit on the floor. Her cushioning butt fits perfectly in your lap. Impale her with your cock at once and Yoohyeon bounces with full devotion from her body, her brittle voice about to crack at any moment as she flips her legs around to face you.

“That’s it, that’s it! Yes, yes, ah, yes! Harder, faster, I feel it… I feel it coming. Wait! Wait, slow down, lemme, lemme—” Thrust harder and her breath leaves her lungs. She puts her head into your shoulders. Yoohyeon forgets, while you indulge in her desires to make the sex better, her orgasm isn’t part of the deal.

“Don’t forget who asked to be used like a fucktoy. This is how you wanted to be paid right?”

“Mmmhm!” Yoohyeon whines into your neck.

“That’s right. You love this dick, I know you do. You love how I get to fuck you whenever, wherever I feel like. Means I cum whenever and wherever I feel like too.”

Her whimpers only embolden you. Yoohyeon’s feet dig into the back of your hips, so you know she’s close, but you’re closer. Pound up into her, like it’s some sort of competition for climax.

Once, the two of you bickered over everything. Class rankings, height, friends. You still do, but luckily, university and late night studying solved at least one point of tension between you two.

Yoohyeon tries to solve her own tension now, but no matter how hard she grinds her clit against your crotch, her pussy is just so snug that you’re bound to finish first. Her eyes widen as your lips crash into hers without caution, though they close quickly at the fullness of your seed filling her from the inside. She continues bucking her waist back and forth, making a mess of your crotch that pumps more of yourself into her, but you soften before she can send herself over the edge. After you unsheathe your limp dick, Yoohyeon grabs your face with a frown.

“I was so goddamn close.” She pouts. “Why do you get to cum so easily?”

Wipe off sweat and puff ragged spurts of air, Yoohyeon still shifting as she straddles you. “I mean, it kinda comes with the territory. You pay attention in sex ed? Oh right, you were fantasizing about me during those classes instead.”

She gets up. “Hey, fuck you. You’re an asshole, you know that? I’m taking your water.”

“Oh boohoo, my water.”

Yoohyeon reaches into your backpack and pulls out the wrong plastic bottle. “What the fuck, you fuckin’ perv. What do you even have lube for?”

“For when I fuck your ass?”

“Ha! That’s uh… a good one. Horny fucker.”

“I mean, what were we just doing yesterday? How are you supposed to tutor me if your memory is this bad?”

“Shut up. I’m going back to the library to study. At least fifteen minutes,” Yoohyeon says sternly before she stomps away.

She’ll be back on your dick in ten.

After all, it’s not like she returned the lube to your bag.

A Lot Of It (Gahyeon)

You make a lot of it.

It’s sticky and matches the tones of her skin.

Milky and white, she moans, then it drips from her chin.

It pools on her neck, a bit more drips.

She licks every speck, every stain on her lips.

You make a lot of it.

Gahyeon waits for the spoonfuls to call her own.

Gahyeon waits for the two pools on collarbones.

At the sunrise, a knock on the door.

A glance and Gahyeon lies on the floor.

A dance that you lead.

All that you need is her lips on the base of your shaft.

A song that she hums as she follows.

You know that she’ll swallow your craft.

She hums a bit more, you explode.

It’s not some, it’s a load of a load.

The sting in her eyes, her lids are all glued.

She gulps it all up, that grin is so lewd.

Her mouth curls up at the vein in her throat, her throat that’ll milk.

Morning again, stains turn to a coat, the coat’s made of silk.

You make a lot of it.

A lot’s just a bit.

Slowly, it flows, from the tip to the tip of her nose to the ridge of her bridge.

She licks but a smidge is all she can taste, when she tries to tap on her nose with her tongue.

If it falls on the floor, not a drop that she wastes.

Baste on her face, her legs are unstrung.

Strings cross her thighs, she’s wet down her waist.

If hers falls on the floor, still no drop does she waste.

It’s not a mistake when you’re wasting the day til the early night’s dark.

Pearly whites suit the pearly white mark on her cheek.

You make a lot of the stuff.

A lot’s not enough.

Gahyeon still hasn’t had her fill for the week.

New Home ft. Yena

A continuation of writerpeach’s Tumblr quickie, Pet.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Books left unread on a coffee table, post-it notes on the wall reminding family members to get their laundry done, a whiteboard on the fridge with scribbled-up plans for what to eat. Saturday. The whiteboard is empty today. It has been for months. The post-it notes are for people who have long since moved and the books are never going to be read. Your house was messier when you first settled into it. Now home is just the steel and concrete walls, gorgeous architecture yet too much space for one person. Home is a lonely place. Even though you’re a social person, especially with the nature of your work, you haven’t truly been social in a while. It’s only half not your fault with lockdown and whatnot. Unfortunately, there’s no substituting what actually makes a place cozy: remnants of everyday human life.

The next best thing is a pet.

Bright and wide eyes flick up to meet yours when you open your front door. Your pet is below you. Even in the simple action of her glare, her alluring voice rings out in your mind and calls you with the million words of urgent pleading. Only feet below you when you glance down, yet she is far further underneath. Clay isn’t as easy to mold. The girl knows her place so well; she even has the keycode to it. Not that your home is her own. Not yet, at least. 

She shudders. Under the appetite of those eyes draw a few tired lines. Living a similar life to hers, you would have more sympathy, that is, if your bulge weren’t straining so much. Or if she hadn’t missed a weekend with her busy schedule.

As she kneels down, the moonlight silhouettes a distinct outline of her fine curves through the grand windows of the foyer.

Maybe if her bare body weren’t so provocative, you would be a little more lenient. Besides, lenience in this situation would probably constitute dragging her to the couch, mounting her plush chest and giving her a little extra time to inhale.

Small hands fold into her lap and she patiently anticipates her orders. Clothes scatter the floor of the entrance hallway. Her soaked underwear to her right, black lace bra to the left, and in between them, an expensive black dress. 

She had a picture wearing that dress on her Instagram story—your garden was its colorful backdrop. Good thing you know a thing or two about privacy yourself, keeping your collection of flowers for your own eyes. Otherwise, there would be a lot of questions, articles, and red circles with red arrows making the obvious connection.

The only thing left on her body is a metal chain collar and a smile. It’s a cheeky simper, a proud grin where the corner of her mouth curls up just a pinch more than usual. She understands its effect. Beautiful pale skin, silky smooth legs. Tight toned stomach, large soft breasts and a perfectly round ass. Cherry red lips that belong to you, lips that stain your body when you demand them. Yet more than all of that, her smile incites a fire within you, and she knows your need to wipe it off her face even when she isn’t doing anything wrong or mischievous. 

People play games with pets. You don’t keep a pet just to watch it wander. Well, not true, your aquarium in the living room is little more than decoration. However, this pet is active and eager, even when she kneels nearly motionless. Tilt her chin up and gaze intently into her eyes; desire shines through their dark color.  

"Name?” you ask. 

“Yena.”

“Incorrect. Try again.” 

“Sorry.”

Tug on the collar and Yena bites her lip, stifling the escape of a breath that she holds in. “Still wrong.”

She knows the right answer but she knows, more importantly, how you need to punish her mistakes and how she wants you to treat her. A stronger tug urges a response though her voice first comes out as choked noises. “Agh—I have no name. I am nothing but a toy for my master.”

“Good girl,” you say, loosening your grip. Run fingers through her raven locks and firmly grab them. Yena's head jerks back. The grit you add to your voice is unintentional, but it helps. “Who do you belong to?” 

“You, master. My only purpose is to serve you and give you pleasure.” Her words are shaky but they're also genuine in their imploring.

“Never forget that.” Caress her chin then her cheek which you give a gentle slap. Her thighs close shut. “Wet already?”

No need to touch Yena to know that she drips from between those full thighs. It’s in her loose eyes that your stare probes deeper into, the firm nubs that her pretty breasts flaunt, and the ragged breaths that she lets slip her mouth. “Yes, master.”

“Do you expect me to do something about that?” you ask, giving her surprisingly ample tits a harsh slap, their recoil enchanting you. When you watched her from the sidelines, only a few of her stage outfits boasted this key quality of hers. Now they're laid bare for you to play with as you please.

“No, master. My pleasure always comes second.”

Yena whimpers, clenches her thighs tighter, and heightens her pitch with every strike until those whimpers are mewls. Spank her tits again repeatedly, each smack louder than the last. “Good answer.”

The sharp pain only wrings forth more wetness from her pussy.

“Good kitten as well. At least you know better than to make a mess of the floor. Whatever.” A final smack on those tits, leaving red the same shape as your hand. “Against the window.”

No hesitation. Yena straightens her posture and retreats so that her head and back are flat against the tall glass wall behind her.

“Take these off,” you demand.

Yena’s hands move with a dancer’s grace to unzip them. Free at last. Her eyes widen as they always do at the erection standing tall, overcasting her face. Your pet wets her lips with her tongue, careful not to touch you lacking your permission since she is a millimeter away and the slightest breeze would cause that tongue to touch your dick. 

You know her defiance leads to the same result. You know that cock is going down her throat either way. 

You know she just wants to be a good girl. 

“You know what to do.”

Her lips press the tip of your dick with a careful urgency, decorating it with its first red smudge of many. A bit of spit, a bit more lipstick, she leaves fresh marks wherever she can. There’s plenty of shaft for her to kiss around, a lot of flesh for her to worship. At times, she’s hungry and rushed but at others, Yena slows down and adores your erection properly.

She’s a lot easier to satisfy than most pets. Even your fish need the right amount of food, the ample space they take up, and sufficient oxygen in the water. 

Meanwhile, you don’t have to put in any work for your dick to be so hard for her. If anything, Yena is the one working hard, licking at your length like it’s a treat. Her tongue is insatiable, elongated all the way out of her mouth. Several swipes, but it’s not enough; Yena must taste all of your cock, as though it were her favorite candy. Despite how hard she tries, all she licks away is the red lip stains on your shaft. 

By a simple nudge of your hand, you wrest control of your cock away from her and find out just how wanton your kitten is. 

Yena is depraved.

When you depreciated her, she was delighted, appreciative. 

Now she’s depressed, deprived of her carnal confection depressed on the pillows of her lips.  

“Awwh,” Yena whines and pouts.  Animalistic instincts tell her to open her mouth wide and stick out her pink tongue again. Slapping your dick on it several times, her eyes signal her readiness—not that you would wait for her.

Your swollen tip parts her delicious plump lips when they tighten around your hard flesh. She does the work, by sucking softly and hollowing her cute puffy cheeks for your width. It feels luscious but you want it to feel better. You don’t intend on delaying any longer, only waiting for her to bob her head for you to get the right angle. Your hands rest on either side of her head while your fingers wrap in her silky hair. Keep her skull pressed against the wall as you bury your shaft down her throat.

“Ahk,” Yena gags. Apparently experience doesn’t help since she always gags, in spite of how many times she swallows your dick. You don’t care because you thrive on the sounds she makes. The slurping and gagging noises when you fuck her pretty mouth against the wall are music to your ears. Her eyes water as you shove your length into her mouth like the toy she is. Though warm and familiar, you never mistake that familiarity with her throat as bland because her tight muscles are the perfect sleeve for your cock to piston into.

“Take it all, kitten,” you growl, her cute nose meeting your stomach with every thrust. Streaks of mascara drip down her face, her makeup beyond repair as she hungrily chokes on every inch of cock.

Your pet is reduced to pure sloppiness, the only thing pure about her. Her lips spew drool like a leaky faucet, turning her breasts into a glistening mess. It's the way Yena looks at you and begs for rougher treatment with a pouty glance before your hips put in overtime to use her face against the wall without any care for her comfort. However, that look inspires an uncharacteristic kindness from you. In a way. 

“Touch yourself. You’ve earned a little pleasure.”

“Th-thank you, master,” your pet replies when you exit her ravaged mouth for a moment. Her voice is raspy. Whenever your cock’s tip drags past her lips so that she can utter some more gratitude at the roughness, that voice becomes more raspy and dry, despite all the spit.

She knows not to be greedy, only squeezing her bountiful breasts and pinching her nipples, understanding how much you delight in the view. It’s not like it bothers her one bit. In fact, the contrary, as her previous attempt at avoiding a waterfall between her legs by pressing her thighs only rubs and stimulates them further. That wet spot underneath her thighs might even tarnish the hardwood.

Her moans vibrate around your cock to urge for even more roughness.

Grip the back of her head and fully stuff her throat. Her breath isn’t relevant. Nothing else in the world is other than your pleasure and Yena wouldn’t have it any other way. The apotheosis of your pleasure surfaces to the forefront of your mind in warning flashes.

“That’s enough, kitten,” you say as you release her raw throat. Several strands of spit connect her mouth to your cock’s tip while more spills out of her freshly used lips. The display alone is tempting but it’s too soon in the night to conclude by the front door.

Yena would whine again at the emptiness in your mouth if she weren't too busy gasping for a taste of oxygen.

“Stand up,” you command, barely giving her a chance to recover as her breaths become heavy. Your pet rises from her knees in an instant and you notice how they’re red and sore. “Were you kneeling the whole time?”

“Yes, master.”

“Didn’t you get my texts when I was in the driveway?”

Yena places her hands behind her back and raises her eyebrows, unsure of your point. She could have gotten on her knees when she received the messages, maybe she could have made herself at home with a glass of water and a rest on the couch before she got in place. It’s not as if you were going to check over your security footage for her behavior. Though now you have new ideas for the future. One of those pet feeders with the camera is going on your wishlist. 

Instead of cat food, you would dispense that jelly she likes and let her eat it from a steel bowl whenever she’s a good girl.

This would be one of those times she gets a prize. Of course, it’s only natural that she should kneel the whole time. She should wait for her master, even if the floor is hard, even if she has to wait for an hour. 

“Such a good pet.” As a reward, grab the leash at the coat rack. 

The few recent guests that you had at your house often asked about what breed of dog you had. A better answer than the truth, you told them it was for your fish. 

Attach the leash to her collar, yanking on it with little affection. Before you drag Yena around the house, she reverts to her stance on her knees, though now with hands on the ground to crawl. Her tits dangle, her nipples stick out, and she staggers at the force on her neck and the fatigue already settling in her body. She doesn’t need a tour of the house, but it gives you an excuse to recover. While Yena is built like a doll to exhaust all day, you still need to save some stamina for wetter and warmer holes, for more fuckworthy positions.

Naturally, the comfort is solely yours. While you walk through the living room, the kitchen, and the courtyard like a sapient person, Yena is on all fours. While many animals pant to cool their bodies because they don’t have sweat glands, your kitten pants and sweats at the same time anyway, though her tongue droops out not as much for heat but when she breathes heavily to recoup some energy herself. It’s an applaudable endeavour considering you’ve never used her body gently. Plus, she can never know if you might take her right now, possibly bringing her to the elevator and fucking her on the floor.

You’re in no rush to lead her through the halls of your home. The property is vast. Every ceiling is greater than one regular story tall. It would be prudent to map it, then frame that map for future visitors. Realistically, there’s only one such person in near purview.

Pause for a moment in the gallery of paintings before entering one of your many staircases. A shame you’re not fucking her here.

Slight bruises form on her knees when she clambers up your stairs, but she’s happy. You pass your closet, a bespoke room bigger than her bedroom. Most people get to see her clothed, ravishing in many different styles, however, you would rather have the striking sight of an exposed Yena by the foot of your bed. 

“How do you want me, master?”

“Just as you are, but on the bed.”

“Yes, master.” Your pet crawls up next to you.

Another seamless silhouette on the bed, again lit through the three clear walls of your cantilevered bedroom by the night sky. Just as familiar of a position as Yena on her knees, she is face down. If she could see anything, she would know that nature stares back at her, your estate surrounded by bamboo and other greenery. That’s not the property that matters to you at all. Her ass bends up, compliant and ready as always.

Pull on the leash and align your cockhead to her inviting opening. One entrance to dip your shaft for a taste, and it doesn’t take long until your dick shoves into her, balls deep, and her dripping wet heat clenches after every harsh thrust. Somehow rougher than you’ve ever been, pound her cunt with a newfound fervor. Yena wants to be your personal fucktoy.

So be it then.

The motion of her hips reciprocates every time you buck yours. Your length scrapes her clean of her juices and it draws each breath out of her without heed to the natural rhythm of her respiration. Yena is lost and heady with desire when she desperately puffs for more air.

However, she isn’t that lost. “Mmph!” comes out muffled as she screams into a big pillow which deadens her volume.

No one’s going to hear her in the bedroom, other than possibly some deer or birds. Unlike in her dance practice room, the broadcasting station’s bathroom, your car bent over on the hood behind the busy cafe, Yena can be as noisy as she wants but instead she holds herself back. 

Not having any of that, yank back hard on the leash when she attempts to fall into the mattress. The first two tugs are in time to each deep rut inside, then after the third time, Yena learns, realizing that you want her to be nice and loud. Her back arches perfectly as her fingers clutch into the sheets, yelping high enough that you swear the windows might shatter. It’s understandable—your shaft sunders the small kitten in twain and no amount of her restraint can hold back her voice.

“Ahh! Master’s cock!”

“That’s what I wanna hear.”

While one hand continues its grip on the leash, the other takes turns on her cushy butt. Left cheek. Right cheek. Initially, firm grasps indent the soft flesh with your fingers and each of its nails, though the softness of her ass and thighs beg to be slapped just like her tits.  You succumb and emphatically smack that rear. “Aah! Fuck!” Yena shouts.

Punish the profanity that she lets slip with harder spanks. “I said you can scream, not fucking swear.”

Yet more profanities fumble out and your relentless cadence continues, both with your hands and your cock. The cycle of sounds endures as flesh claps against flesh and Yena puts all focus on staying loud without breaking your rules too much, wanting to leave some of her ass unscathed. Unfortunately, it’s too late, her butt tenderly stinging and her voice losing its intensity. You still ram her from behind with the same depth, the same speed, and the same strength, even when all that’s left is feeble whimpers and indolent sways of her waist, much slower than your own.

“C-can I cum, master?”

Don’t even dignify that with a response. Breathe through your nose, your lips pursed at the replete gratification around your cock, wet muscles swathing the whole length at a slightly prolonged stroke. Grab each cheek and splay that ass so that you can find the tight, winking ring above where your dick stays warm. A forceful spit, then your index finger teases at it with circles tempting to penetrate it.

“Please,” Yena sobs, much softer than normal, “May I cum, master?”

“No. You know the rules. Not like you deserve it anyway.” Your pet pays little heed to your fingers testing the entrance that she’s never even toyed with before. While you continue flirting at the dark hole with one hand, the other takes the stringy mess of clear wetness that leaks below her, the same juices that give your cock a veneer visible even in the low light of the nighttime. 

Deeper into her pussy you embed yourself, her walls clasping and throbbing out of control. Aware she is finding it harder to hold back with her wild panting and moaning, you ensure she doesn’t get what she wants. Pull out then yank her onto her knees while you stand up on the bed. Yena holds herself back, only displaying disheartenment with her pouting bottom lip that sticks out. She keeps up her enthusiasm anyway. “Are you going to paint my face, master?”

Too involved with chasing your own orgasm to respond, you stroke your cock inches from her gorgeous face. Yena gives it a few careful smooches, unsure exactly when you’re going to cum because more than anything, she doesn’t want to waste your art by having it fly over her head onto your bed or anything else other than her face.

“I’m nothing but your cum dump, master. Please cum all over me, cum on my face, please master!”

Her begging always sets you off. Your last sight is Yena’s precious features, contorting in anticipation. Vision goes white while your legs tremble a tinge. The perfect canvas to use, you cover her in warm creamy streaks, emphasizing on her delicious lips until her entire face stains pale and sticky. Globs slowly drip from her chin while she sucks you clean with unmatched spit and polish. After a final mouthful, your conclusive bursts find their way down her throat to join the pre-cum already imbibed.

“Thank you, master.” Yena grins in satisfaction while she scrapes most of the seed on her face with her fingers. 

After some heavy breathing, hers and your own, you both fall back onto the bed in relaxed sitting positions. Turn on the lights in your room with a switch on your bedside. “Name?” you say with a chuckle.

The charade dates all the way back to your first meeting. After a win at a music show that your group managed to sneak over IZ*ONE, you asked her a simple question on stage to her confusion. Back then, you just thought it’d be funny.

Now, it means a little more.

“Yena.”

Even when not in character, you brush your fingers in her hair like it’s a pet’s fur anyway; it gives you as much comfort as a real pet would. “Good girl.” 

“That was really fun, oppa.” 

“Thanks. You look great, Yena.” 

Yena rubs her fingertips and plays with the semen on it before she licks it up. You get up from the bed.

“What, no thanks?” Toss her a towel and she wipes herself down. 

“You’re gonna say that while I’m cleaning your cum off my face?”

“I’m saying that because of it, not in spite of it.” Unfasten the leash from her collar. Only now do you strip down to match her nudity, even surpass it; at least she has that collar. Flop onto your mattress and sink into it as every muscle relaxes in the radiance that follows your climax. 

Yena cuddles up next to you in your bed after she gets the last sticky drops from her eyes. She really is a little kitten, curling up and fitting snugly in your arms. Only the sounds of waning respiration fill the room while her warmth fills your heart. Doe eyes look up at you until her blinking slows down to halt when her lids close. Eventually you end up similarly restful and in your post-orgasm rest, you become contemplative.

Bright lights. It's all roles. Performances. It’s impossible to completely separate yourself from your image, your persona is an extension of you. Serious yet friendly to the camera, while always charming and suave. You exaggerate your character, you focus on the key points that draw people in. She grasps this as well as you do, having trained for years. No need for a script, no need for acting classes, people always present an outward identity that isn’t a perfect replica.

Dim lights. It's all roles and performances too. Somehow, it’s the same and so very different. Again, this isn’t you, this is an exaggeration of you. You’re not a strict leader to your group but you become an overbearing owner in the night. Instead of reaching for external traits to amplify, you search for the truth inside of yourself. You need someone, a girl to bend to your will. That’s not the sort of thing you could admit out loud, which is why you’re fortunate to find a person so eager for her own truth, to be shaped and toyed with in the dark.

The question of which is truly you is a difficult one. Neither? Both? Questions fall to the wayside when fatigue takes its hold.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Light or dark, it’s more accurate to say both right now because though only blackness lies past the windows, within them, you forgot to turn off the light. Thus you stir, especially with Yena wriggling in your embrace, inevitable that one of you would wake up in the middle of the night.

“I’ve been thinking,” Yena whispers to break the silence. Her sultry tone entices you, it sparks warmth within you. 

Open your eyes. The first thing you notice is how Yena’s nose almost touches the tip of yours, the second is the time, closer to morning than midnight. Finally, your own face looks back on the wall, the light in the room with the darkness outside creating a mirror.

“Ever since the group…” Yena pauses with a finger on her lip. “You know. I’ve been living with my parents.”

“You sure? Feels like you’re living here.”

”I know, I know. In fact, I told them I should find a place closer to all my activities. It was kinda tough explaining it to them but I had to try. Just needed somewhere to call my own. I love them, but it’s not the same as having my own home, umm, a new home. I’ve never had a new home before, or really lived anywhere other than my parents house and with IZ*ONE. I guess it’s not that uncommon at our age, but still, look at you...”

Put a hand on her shoulder to calm her thoughts down. “Hold up, hold up, that’s a lot to take in. Aren’t you gonna move into Yuehua’s dorms?”

“That stuff is still pretty up in the air. But not yet.” Yena puts the finger resting on her cheek on your lips. “Shh. I need somewhere to stay for a few months at least.”

“Good luck with finding a place,” you say with a wry smile.

“Oppa! Lemme convince you. I know this place is really expensive, but do you need all this space? Just to live alone? They’re gonna find out that one of Korea’s biggest love song writers is a complete loner eventually.”

“Yena, this is definitely not closer to your projects. You couldn’t get this kind of forest downtown. Trust me, I looked. Plus, I don’t think it’ll go over too well with the press. I’m an idol too, remember? When they find out I have an idol myself as a live-in fuck kitten, that won’t be fun to deal with.”

“W-well, did I say that’s what I was going to do?”

“Alright then. What is your method to convince me then?”

“Um. A dance?”

You scoff.

The basement has plenty of places for natural light to enter, with skylights from the courtyard letting ample enough in to see, even in the quiet hours of dusk. However, only lit by the moon, it’s much darker than the upper floors of your house. It’s nonetheless sufficient to avoid tripping over things such as iron plates, the squat rack, the rowing machine. You can also see the many mirrors in the open concept lower floor, leading to the entertainment room with its bar and projector, its floor a comfortable grey carpet. It’s more of a man cave than a dungeon, something you wish you considered during renovations as it would be appropriate now.

A metal chain connects to a load supporting column, on the other end, a familiar collar. Yena crawls around in a circle, thankful for the softness of the floor, and she repeats her words like some sort of mantra to acknowledge her bedroom roles. “I’m a nameless pet. I’m a toy only useful for her holes. I love when my master fucks those holes raw, but it doesn’t matter what I like.”

“Very good,” you acknowledge your kitten’s performative talent with an understanding that it comes from an authenticity within her. “You know you left your panties here last time.”

“Yes, master. I thought you’d like them.”

“They’re dirty. I guess that suits you though.” You take the underwear from your pocket. Earlier, you dressed yourself again and retrieved a pair from the stash while Yena followed her instructions to head to the basement. Pink, but more importantly, “Stained with my cum, your juices. Didn’t you wear this on stage too? Panorama, right?”

“Of course, master.” Throw the panties at your pet. It lands on her head, but it falls off, so she bends down and picks it up by the teeth, making a ball in her mouth. “Mmph.”

“Such a well-trained kitten, didn’t even know they played fetch. That’s more for dogs, but I don’t mind. I’m just not sure what you want.”

She drops the underwear to talk, but paws at it playfully while she does. “I want to please my master. I need to.”

“Only for today?”

“No. Everyday please, master.”

“Well, this is my house and if you want to stay in it, I don’t care when your schedule is. You’re going to be here like a good kitten when I come home, right?”

“Yes, master.”

“Here to suck my dick and wet my cock with your fuckhole on your knees and on the floor whenever, correct?”

Her nods are brisk, more assured. “Yes, master.”

“In that case, we’ll call it a deal, okay kitten? You can seal it with a kiss.”

Yena looks up at you, unsure for a moment, but quickly comprehends your request. Unzip your pants yourself, then she crawls towards it, panties balled up in one hand. Slowly back up, teasing her by keeping your erect length inches away.

“Don’t you want it badly?”

“I do, master!”

Grab her hair and slap her. “Your voice should be no louder than mine unless I tell you to, is that clear?”

She bobs her head up and down in swift approval. Yena sobs, though more at the lack of dick in her mouth than the punishment. When you reverse all the way to your bar, she continues moving forward, limb by limb. So close to your cock, yet when she leaps forward, the chain tautens and yanks her backwards which snaps her head back. You rush down to her level.

“Are you okay?” you mouth and she nods promptly. The fullness in your voice returns and you roll your eyes as you stand up. “Kitten wants my cock so badly, you turn dumb for it, right?”

“Yes, master.”

“Give me the panties,” you order. Yena complies, a meek paw handing them to you. The musky scent overwhelms you. It’s the same scent between her legs right now, the same scent on your sheets. 

Before she joins Everglow, that scent will mark the whole house.

Conversely, if she doesn’t end up joining, it only means you’ll have more time for her to adjust to her new life. Whiff one last time before you set the cloth on the counter. Take your shaft with your hand and bend it towards her. Yena struggles but manages to ghost it with the tip of her tongue. Her licks thirst especially for the dot of white that dribbles from your slit, but out of her reach, she mewls and whines again. 

“Tsk. You already have so much milk in your tummy. I didn’t even mean to feed you, I just wanted to slather your face and greedy little kitten had to eat it all up.” You rub your cock on her cheeks and forehead while you draw in a sharp breath. “Hsss. Tsk, I should’ve punished you then.”

With considerable weight, the slap of your cock on her face leaves new imprints to match the now pinker hand marks on her tits. Yena squeals with each whack but she keeps her mouth open and her tongue lapping, even if she can barely graze your erection. She pulls back and inhales deeply before a strangled noise indicates how she travails for a taste.

After enough to soak the underside of your shaft, you acquiesce—not out of any care to fulfill her wishes but just to balance out the moisture on your length. All you need is a slight buck forward and her mouth pounces on your dick, every drop of her drool coating it. 

Yena takes her hands off the floor and holds onto your tip with her lips to keep her up as she tries to scoop up all the saliva. By twisting around the base of your rod, her right hand supplements the work of her mouth, unable to take you all the way down as the leash still constricts her, while her left hand gently toys with your sack. Instead of using her face like any of her other holes, having already done that moments ago, you let the raring girl assume responsibility. You don’t need to tell Yena not to get it twisted. The struggle between her hungry mouth and the collar on her neck cautions her that you’re in charge no matter what.

The travertine countertop digs into your hands as you lean back. “Fucking hell, you’re insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” Yena hums in a low moan around your cock.

“Like it’ll be the last time, nngh, when there’ll be plenty more in the future.” Shift your weight off the bar and right foot after left, shuffle in a circle around the column that fixes her.

Yena follows you much like an adorable baby duckling.

She can’t quack right now though. Again, your kitten keeps her mouth’s grip on your rod firm and steady even when the rest of her body is unsteady while she shuffles likewise, though on her four limbs.

You reach the back of the leather couch in your entertainment area, admittedly squirming as much as Yena because of her resplendent suction. Lower yourself behind the sofa until you’re seated on the floor, misusing the sofa for the sake of convenience. A longer chain would have been judicious, to let you sit on the cushioned seats, but you had no time nor willpower to think when you tied up Yena to the pillar. 

Even on the rare occasion where you’re willing to bring yourself to her level, she doesn’t bother with eye contact, breathlessly bobbing her head away. Yena lets your cock free from her mouth, though still in a supplicant bow in your crotch, between your legs. “Master, please, may I ride you?”

“Did I say stop?” You spit on her face. “Did I ever say you can ask me for anything?”

“N-no. Master.”

You spread the spit all over her dainty features. While she wiped most of her makeup clean the first time, there’s still plenty to smudge, to vitiate the girl as the cock-hungry slut she tries so hard to be. To make your point, grab her chin and urge her to look back at you.  Her eyes glaze with a speck of lust, a little more with fear that drives it. “Clearly you have more to learn. You’re lucky I’m spent. Get on top of that dick.”

Yena stifles a happy squeal before she carefully backs up. Slouch against the couch and the ground. Sure, the posture isn’t the best, but she needs a little more give in the chain for her to ride you properly. While your pet’s exigency to fuck your erection amuses you, sometimes you have to be more practical to chase your high. The two of you wordlessly find the perfect distance so that she can mount your lap while alleviating only a touch of pressure on her throat. As a substitute, fingers wrap around her neck. They don’t give more tension than the collar, but you press their tips anyway into the sides just to remind her true position, even while she’s physically above you.

“Are you going to cum without my permission?“

“No, no, of course not, master.”

“Okay. I don’t need to tell you what to do, right?”

With a hurried nod, Yena’s legs wrap around your waist. Though you can’t see much in the barely lit room, especially with the tits that distract your vision, the light touch and wetness of her cunt on your head inform you that her heat trickles out of her ambrosia, even more than before. She brings her body down, at first holding on to your shoulders, though recognizes from your stern glare that she is not to touch you. Yena puts her hands behind her back, and as a result, needs more force to split herself onto your cock. At every prior encounter, she was content leaving the hard work of penetration to you. The natural lubrication is almost not enough for her to kiss the base of your length under her own power.

You come to plenty of realizations, even as Yena accelerates the bouncing pace of her ass. She always enjoys something around her neck—whether it’s a collar that marks her as your property, or your strong hands that do the same when they leave purple on her milky skin—but by the way her pussy flutters every time you inflict more stress on her throat, you only now realize that it’s also about denying her one of a person’s most basic needs, the lack of air intensifying her arousal.

Though even the simplest of animals need to breathe.

“Master!” Yena cries out between strangled puffs of air. “You’re so big, hah, and you fill me up, hah, so well.”

"Didn't know a pet could talk like such a slut, but I guess my kitten's always in fucking heat huh? Telling me she needs to live here, she just wants to be a fuck hole all day, isn't that right?"

Your kitten doesn’t need to nod or vocalize her agreement in any way, you can tell by how little she pays heed to the chain that holds her back by the neck. Despite the fetter, Yena rides you as though your erection might disappear if she doesn't fuck herself onto you hard enough, if she doesn't cum all over your cock. Every bracing jerk up and down causes you to slump further into the floor, further into the couch, so you back up to fix your stance. 

In return, she has to bend back herself, the chain unyielding as her ass follows your crotch in its repetitive motions. Once you reach your couch with your spine upright, Yena has to hold herself up on one arm behind, with her toes barely touching the floor in the awkward pose.

“I call you kitten but you’re acting like a slutty bunny that needs to be bred with how you bounce on that dick at any cost.”

The words set her off. “Master, please, I need to cum,” she says.

She doesn’t need to say it. You notice easily. The tightness is obvious.

More tellingly, her hands replace yours on her neck and you’re too adrift in your own lightheadedness to object. Plus she’s much less lenient with herself than you are.

“Cum, cum, master, please, I need it,” she repeats between uneven sighs.

“Hmm.” You pull yourself back up to a better posture, even if it means not leaning back on the couch. Kiss into her neck. It only brings her closer to her demise, especially when you leave more purple after you increase your suction on the sensitive skin. Your pet knows she needs to hold back. While you’re tolerant of her blubbering fucked-out disarray now, consequent punishments may cost more than one orgasm.

More than whatever sweet floral soap mixes and the territorial marking musk of sex, the smell of desperation hits your nose. Yena’s neediness is fragrant with the sweat splashing between your two bodies and saliva from her lips, kept open in a constant ‘O’ with pleasure. “Cum,” she rasps, though the sound barely comes out as a syllable from her slack mouth.

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack. The sounds of her ass leaping up and down hold you just as spellbound as the rest of your senses.

“Right,” she says, eyes wavering and searching why you aren’t answering. So Yena isn’t even trying to bait another punishment with an incorrect answer—or rather, request. Instead, she needs your friction, some stimulation on her tender little clit, anything at all but she is too absent in bliss to ask properly until now. “May I cum? Master?”

You hum and haw, your fingers rapping the floor. Your insouciance contrasts Yena’s vivid zeal, the sloppy expression that her face wears, her legs straining and bending to shove her ass all the way down your cock. Her pleasure doesn’t matter, but you can’t deny how it influences you; besides, you feel your vigor waning and need her walls to milk you dry so you can cum as well.

But is she a good enough girl? Her body is so delicious, her role, her act, her kitten routine so practiced, you might not even ask and concede to her if you were a weaker man. 

“Are you a good pet?” you say by some remnant resolve.

“I am, I am!”

Before you can tell her to go ahead, Yena slams down, your cock twitching as much as her insides. “Not good enough,” you grit through your teeth. 

Reenergized, assume control and fuck your dick up into her by bucking your hips. “Not good enough?” she whines, her tone falling.

“No.” Though the end product is the same—your shaft leaving and entering her body—you start to bear the brunt of the work, the brunt of your crotch into her butt that you hold up with two hands. Instead of Yena riding you, powerless to your cock, you claim your kitten as its rightful owner with your torrid plunges. Her breeding hole is glad to accept. You’re unable to lean back into the couch, because each thrust is so vigorous that it brings you closer and closer to the column. Jam your feet into the carpeted floor to redirect your momentum into Yena.

“I—I, I don’t know if I c-can hold it—” A particular graze of your cockhead against a sensitive spot interrupts her.

“I didn’t. Say. You could. Fucking cum,” you declare with stern pauses. 

Internal heat melts your breath away, then sharp throbs originating from your crotch restarts that breathing. You’re near. 

“If you’re going to be a good fucking kitten, you go at the word go, every single time. You suck at the word suck, ahh, ngh, you kneel at my command, and most importantly...”

Yena yelps and pulls back when you jab a couple fingers at her tummy, where a distension disappears and appears faster and faster, before your tongue sticks down her mouth and exits just as quickly.

“Ffff…” Hot air escapes your lungs when your focus shifts for a second back to the incredible sensations wringing your cock. “When I breed this messy pussy, you better remember your proper name. What is it?”

“Nothing,” Yena cries out.

One stroke.

Two.

“Cum.” You add approving grunts and slip a finger between her legs to help along, even if the single word is all she needs. Clear liquid spurts from her crotch, a slicker fluid joins the tensing muscles around your cock, and Yena whimpers with her lips firm against yours, slobbering and drawing out air and pleasure as much as she can. Her up and down motions dwindle, but her whole body palpitates.

The order is as much for you as it is for her. You can empathize with Yena. The earlier warmth and pulsations collide, and in that collision, they explode. Bright lights and dim lights dance in your vision again, even when the room appears darker than it ever has. Yena ensconces you wholly, from her limbs and tits clinging to you as much as her cunt, to her ever-present, ever-changing sounds that reverberate in your spacious basement. Unintended moans, your deep sighs of pleasure, her needy mewls looking for a last surge in her climax. You join in her reverie, your attention to the outside world fading. Every fateful meeting with Yena rolls through your mind, every role that you play. The inside you and the outside you blend as one while your sticky seed blends with her juices, its viscosity making her pussy’s suction unbearable. Yena’s tongue blends with yours too. 

Work through the stimulation anyway. Shots and more shots of your cum fire into her edacious chamber. 

You can only coax your eyes open for a moment to observe your artistry. 

Beautiful pale skin stains with all sorts of red and purple and spit, while silky smooth legs quiver. Tight toned stomach bulges with your cock, large soft breasts press into your torso with its stiff bumps and a perfectly round ass ambiently jiggles with every ounce of your load, every spasm of your cock. Cherry red lips smear against yours, revealing a lighter natural color. 

As you disconnect from your kiss, the two of you suspire, breaking the thread of spit to fall between your chests, though hers is more glossy wet. Yena smiles. It’s weak, but as proud as ever, its corner upturned like before. 

Your hearts find its timing once again, her chest bumping heavily against yours. Some lazy grinding before she unsheathes you, and her breasts uncompress as she backs up though she straddles you. Yena takes whatever leaks and fingers herself with sticky digits.

“Still want more?” you ask.

“Mhmm.” Her reddish cunt is sore but she entertains herself with her hand anyway.

“So your name’s still not Yena?”

The kitten shakes her head.

“God, you’re gonna be a lot of work aren’t you?”

You peel the girl off your thighs, soaked with all sorts of fluid.

“Now if you really want a new home, be a patient pet for me, okay?” you say, as you grab an extra set of keys on the bar counter. “You might still be in the mood, but I’m just one guy. I need some air. I’ll be back later. I better find you in the same clothes you have right now, you know, like a good kitten. I wanna see you outside in my garden when I get back.”

Yena holds back a smirk. While she takes off her restraining chain, she keeps her collar on. Even if it hides the faint bruises, it designates her as your owner all the same. “Thank you.”

“Who knows? Maybe people’ll put two and two together when I post the pictures to my story.”

A dark Sunday dawn is perfect for a scenic drive.

A pet frolics in your garden.

A pearly trail drips out of her like a tail.

New Home ft. Yeji

A conversion of New Home ft. Yena.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Books left unread on a coffee table, post-it notes on the wall reminding family members to get their laundry done, a whiteboard on the fridge with scribbled-up plans for what to eat. Saturday. The whiteboard is empty today. It has been for months. The post-it notes are for people who have long since moved and the books are never going to be read. Your house was messier when you first settled into it. Now home is just the steel and concrete walls, gorgeous architecture yet too much space for one person. Home is a lonely place. Even though you’re a social person, especially with the nature of your work, you haven’t truly been social in a while. It’s only half not your fault with lockdown and whatnot. Unfortunately, there’s no substituting what actually makes a place cozy: remnants of everyday human life.

The next best thing is a pet.

Bright and wide eyes flick up to meet yours when you open your front door. Your pet is below you. Even in the simple action of her glare, her alluring voice rings out in your mind and calls you with the million words of urgent pleading. Only feet below you when you glance down, yet she is far further underneath. Clay isn’t as easy to mold. The girl knows her place so well; she even has the keycode to it. Not that your home is her own. Not yet, at least. 

She shudders. Under the appetite of those eyes draw a few tired lines. Living a similar life to hers, you would have more sympathy, that is, if your bulge weren’t straining so much. Or if she hadn’t missed a weekend with her busy schedule.

As she kneels down, the moonlight silhouettes a distinct outline of her fine curves through the grand windows of the foyer.

Maybe if her bare body weren’t so provocative, you would be a little more lenient. Besides, lenience in this situation would probably constitute dragging her to the couch, mounting her plush chest and giving her a little extra time to inhale.

Small hands fold into her lap and she patiently anticipates her orders. Clothes scatter the floor of the entrance hallway. Her soaked underwear to her right, black lace bra to the left, and in between them, an expensive black dress. 

She had a picture wearing that dress on her Instagram story—your garden was its colorful backdrop. Good thing you know a thing or two about privacy yourself, keeping your collection of flowers for your own eyes. Otherwise, there would be a lot of questions, articles, and red circles with red arrows making the obvious connection.

The only thing left on her body is a metal chain collar and a smile. It’s a cheeky simper, a proud grin where the corner of her mouth curls up just a pinch more than usual. She understands its effect. Beautiful pale skin, silky smooth legs. Tight toned stomach, large soft breasts and a perfectly round ass. Cherry red lips that belong to you, lips that stain your body when you demand them. Yet more than all of that, her smile incites a fire within you, and she knows your need to wipe it off her face even when she isn’t doing anything wrong or mischievous. 

People play games with pets. You don’t keep a pet just to watch it wander. Well, not true, your aquarium in the living room is little more than decoration. However, this pet is active and eager, even when she kneels nearly motionless. Tilt her chin up and gaze intently into her eyes; desire shines through their dark color.  

"Name?” you ask. 

“Yeji.”

“Incorrect. Try again.” 

“Sorry.”

Tug on the collar and Yeji bites her lip, stifling the escape of a breath that she holds in. “Still wrong.”

She knows the right answer but she knows, more importantly, how you need to punish her mistakes and how she wants you to treat her. A stronger tug urges a response though her voice first comes out as choked noises. “Agh—I have no name. I am nothing but a toy for my master.”

“Good girl,” you say, loosening your grip. Run fingers through her raven locks and firmly grab them. Yeji's head jerks back. The grit you add to your voice is unintentional, but it helps. “Who do you belong to?” 

“You, master. My only purpose is to serve you and give you pleasure.” Her words are shaky but they're also genuine in their imploring.

“Never forget that.” Caress her chin then her cheek which you give a gentle slap. Her thighs close shut. “Wet already?”

No need to touch Yeji to know that she drips from between those full thighs. It’s in her loose eyes that your stare probes deeper into, the firm nubs that her pretty breasts flaunt, and the ragged breaths that she lets slip her mouth. “Yes, master.”

“Do you expect me to do something about that?” you ask, giving her surprisingly ample tits a harsh slap, their recoil enchanting you. When you watched her from the sidelines, only a few of her stage outfits boasted this key quality of hers. Now they're laid bare for you to play with as you please.

“No, master. My pleasure always comes second.”

Yeji whimpers, clenches her thighs tighter, and heightens her pitch with every strike until those whimpers are mewls. Spank her tits again repeatedly, each smack louder than the last. “Good answer.”

The sharp pain only wrings forth more wetness from her pussy.

“Good kitten as well. At least you know better than to make a mess of the floor. Whatever.” A final smack on those tits, leaving red the same shape as your hand. “Against the window.”

No hesitation. Yeji straightens her posture and retreats so that her head and back are flat against the tall glass wall behind her.

“Take these off,” you demand.

Yeji’s hands move with a dancer’s grace to unzip them. Free at last. Her eyes widen as they always do at the erection standing tall, overcasting her face. Your pet wets her lips with her tongue, careful not to touch you lacking your permission since she is a millimeter away and the slightest breeze would cause that tongue to touch your dick. 

You know her defiance leads to the same result. You know that cock is going down her throat either way. 

You know she just wants to be a good girl. 

“You know what to do.”

Her lips press the tip of your dick with a careful urgency, decorating it with its first red smudge of many. A bit of spit, a bit more lipstick, she leaves fresh marks wherever she can. There’s plenty of shaft for her to kiss around, a lot of flesh for her to worship. At times, she’s hungry and rushed but at others, Yeji slows down and adores your erection properly.

She’s a lot easier to satisfy than most pets. Even your fish need the right amount of food, the ample space they take up, and sufficient oxygen in the water. 

Meanwhile, you don’t have to put in any work for your dick to be so hard for her. If anything, Yeji is the one working hard, licking at your length like it’s a treat. Her tongue is insatiable, elongated all the way out of her mouth. Several swipes, but it’s not enough; Yeji must taste all of your cock, as though it were her favorite candy. Despite how hard she tries, all she licks away is the red lip stains on your shaft. 

By a simple nudge of your hand, you wrest control of your cock away from her and find out just how wanton your kitten is. 

Yeji is depraved.

When you depreciated her, she was delighted, appreciative. 

Now she’s depressed, deprived of her carnal confection depressed on the pillows of her lips.  

“Awwh,” Yeji whines and pouts.  Animalistic instincts tell her to open her mouth wide and stick out her pink tongue again. Slapping your dick on it several times, her eyes signal her readiness—not that you would wait for her.

Your swollen tip parts her delicious plump lips when they tighten around your hard flesh. She does the work, by sucking softly and hollowing her cute puffy cheeks for your width. It feels luscious but you want it to feel better. You don’t intend on delaying any longer, only waiting for her to bob her head for you to get the right angle. Your hands rest on either side of her head while your fingers wrap in her silky hair. Keep her skull pressed against the wall as you bury your shaft down her throat.

“Ahk,” Yeji gags. Apparently experience doesn’t help since she always gags, in spite of how many times she swallows your dick. You don’t care because you thrive on the sounds she makes. The slurping and gagging noises when you fuck her pretty mouth against the wall are music to your ears. Her eyes water as you shove your length into her mouth like the toy she is. Though warm and familiar, you never mistake that familiarity with her throat as bland because her tight muscles are the perfect sleeve for your cock to piston into.

“Take it all, kitten,” you growl, her cute nose meeting your stomach with every thrust. Streaks of mascara drip down her face, her makeup beyond repair as she hungrily chokes on every inch of cock.

Your pet is reduced to pure sloppiness, the only thing pure about her. Her lips spew drool like a leaky faucet, turning her breasts into a glistening mess. It's the way Yeji looks at you and begs for rougher treatment with a pouty glance before your hips put in overtime to use her face against the wall without any care for her comfort. However, that look inspires an uncharacteristic kindness from you. In a way. 

“Touch yourself. You’ve earned a little pleasure.”

“Th-thank you, master,” your pet replies when you exit her ravaged mouth for a moment. Her voice is raspy. Whenever your cock’s tip drags past her lips so that she can utter some more gratitude at the roughness, that voice becomes more raspy and dry, despite all the spit.

She knows not to be greedy, only squeezing her bountiful breasts and pinching her nipples, understanding how much you delight in the view. It’s not like it bothers her one bit. In fact, the contrary, as her previous attempt at avoiding a waterfall between her legs by pressing her thighs only rubs and stimulates them further. That wet spot underneath her thighs might even tarnish the hardwood.

Her moans vibrate around your cock to urge for even more roughness.

Grip the back of her head and fully stuff her throat. Her breath isn’t relevant. Nothing else in the world is other than your pleasure and Yeji wouldn’t have it any other way. The apotheosis of your pleasure surfaces to the forefront of your mind in warning flashes.

“That’s enough, kitten,” you say as you release her raw throat. Several strands of spit connect her mouth to your cock’s tip while more spills out of her freshly used lips. The display alone is tempting but it’s too soon in the night to conclude by the front door.

Yeji would whine again at the emptiness in your mouth if she weren't too busy gasping for a taste of oxygen.

“Stand up,” you command, barely giving her a chance to recover as her breaths become heavy. Your pet rises from her knees in an instant and you notice how they’re red and sore. “Were you kneeling the whole time?”

“Yes, master.”

“Didn’t you get my texts when I was in the driveway?”

Yeji places her hands behind her back and raises her eyebrows, unsure of your point. She could have gotten on her knees when she received the messages, maybe she could have made herself at home with a glass of water and a rest on the couch before she got in place. It’s not as if you were going to check over your security footage for her behavior. Though now you have new ideas for the future. One of those pet feeders with the camera is going on your wishlist. 

Instead of cat food, you would dispense that jelly she likes and let her eat it from a steel bowl whenever she’s a good girl.

This would be one of those times she gets a prize. Of course, it’s only natural that she should kneel the whole time. She should wait for her master, even if the floor is hard, even if she has to wait for an hour. 

“Such a good pet.” As a reward, grab the leash at the coat rack. 

The few recent guests that you had at your house often asked about what breed of dog you had. A better answer than the truth, you told them it was for your fish. 

Attach the leash to her collar, yanking on it with little affection. Before you drag Yeji around the house, she reverts to her stance on her knees, though now with hands on the ground to crawl. Her tits dangle, her nipples stick out, and she staggers at the force on her neck and the fatigue already settling in her body. She doesn’t need a tour of the house, but it gives you an excuse to recover. While Yeji is built like a doll to exhaust all day, you still need to save some stamina for wetter and warmer holes, for more fuckworthy positions.

Naturally, the comfort is solely yours. While you walk through the living room, the kitchen, and the courtyard like a sapient person, Yeji is on all fours. While many animals pant to cool their bodies because they don’t have sweat glands, your kitten pants and sweats at the same time anyway, though her tongue droops out not as much for heat but when she breathes heavily to recoup some energy herself. It’s an applaudable endeavour considering you’ve never used her body gently. Plus, she can never know if you might take her right now, possibly bringing her to the elevator and fucking her on the floor.

You’re in no rush to lead her through the halls of your home. The property is vast. Every ceiling is greater than one regular story tall. It would be prudent to map it, then frame that map for future visitors. Realistically, there’s only one such person in near purview.

Pause for a moment in the gallery of paintings before entering one of your many staircases. A shame you’re not fucking her here.

Slight bruises form on her knees when she clambers up your stairs, but she’s happy. You pass your closet, a bespoke room bigger than her bedroom. Most people get to see her clothed, ravishing in many different styles, however, you would rather have the striking sight of an exposed Yeji by the foot of your bed. 

“How do you want me, master?”

“Just as you are, but on the bed.”

“Yes, master.” Your pet crawls up next to you.

Another seamless silhouette on the bed, again lit through the three clear walls of your cantilevered bedroom by the night sky. Just as familiar of a position as Yeji on her knees, she is face down. If she could see anything, she would know that nature stares back at her, your estate surrounded by bamboo and other greenery. That’s not the property that matters to you at all. Her ass bends up, compliant and ready as always.

Pull on the leash and align your cockhead to her inviting opening. One entrance to dip your shaft for a taste, and it doesn’t take long until your dick shoves into her, balls deep, and her dripping wet heat clenches after every harsh thrust. Somehow rougher than you’ve ever been, pound her cunt with a newfound fervor. Yeji wants to be your personal fucktoy.

So be it then.

The motion of her hips reciprocates every time you buck yours. Your length scrapes her clean of her juices and it draws each breath out of her without heed to the natural rhythm of her respiration. Yeji is lost and heady with desire when she desperately puffs for more air.

However, she isn’t that lost. “Mmph!” comes out muffled as she screams into a big pillow which deadens her volume.

No one’s going to hear her in the bedroom, other than possibly some deer or birds. Unlike in her dance practice room, the broadcasting station’s bathroom, your car bent over on the hood behind the busy cafe, Yeji can be as noisy as she wants but instead she holds herself back. 

Not having any of that, yank back hard on the leash when she attempts to fall into the mattress. The first two tugs are in time to each deep rut inside, then after the third time, Yeji learns, realizing that you want her to be nice and loud. Her back arches perfectly as her fingers clutch into the sheets, yelping high enough that you swear the windows might shatter. It’s understandable—your shaft sunders the small kitten in twain and no amount of her restraint can hold back her voice.

“Ahh! Master’s cock!”

“That’s what I wanna hear.”

While one hand continues its grip on the leash, the other takes turns on her cushy butt. Left cheek. Right cheek. Initially, firm grasps indent the soft flesh with your fingers and each of its nails, though the softness of her ass and thighs beg to be slapped just like her tits.  You succumb and emphatically smack that rear. “Aah! Fuck!” Yeji shouts.

Punish the profanity that she lets slip with harder spanks. “I said you can scream, not fucking swear.”

Yet more profanities fumble out and your relentless cadence continues, both with your hands and your cock. The cycle of sounds endures as flesh claps against flesh and Yeji puts all focus on staying loud without breaking your rules too much, wanting to leave some of her ass unscathed. Unfortunately, it’s too late, her butt tenderly stinging and her voice losing its intensity. You still ram her from behind with the same depth, the same speed, and the same strength, even when all that’s left is feeble whimpers and indolent sways of her waist, much slower than your own.

“C-can I cum, master?”

Don’t even dignify that with a response. Breathe through your nose, your lips pursed at the replete gratification around your cock, wet muscles swathing the whole length at a slightly prolonged stroke. Grab each cheek and splay that ass so that you can find the tight, winking ring above where your dick stays warm. A forceful spit, then your index finger teases at it with circles tempting to penetrate it.

“Please,” Yeji sobs, much softer than normal, “May I cum, master?”

“No. You know the rules. Not like you deserve it anyway.” Your pet pays little heed to your fingers testing the entrance that she’s never even toyed with before. While you continue flirting at the dark hole with one hand, the other takes the stringy mess of clear wetness that leaks below her, the same juices that give your cock a veneer visible even in the low light of the nighttime. 

Deeper into her pussy you embed yourself, her walls clasping and throbbing out of control. Aware she is finding it harder to hold back with her wild panting and moaning, you ensure she doesn’t get what she wants. Pull out then yank her onto her knees while you stand up on the bed. Yeji holds herself back, only displaying disheartenment with her pouting bottom lip that sticks out. She keeps up her enthusiasm anyway. “Are you going to paint my face, master?”

Too involved with chasing your own orgasm to respond, you stroke your cock inches from her gorgeous face. Yeji gives it a few careful smooches, unsure exactly when you’re going to cum because more than anything, she doesn’t want to waste your art by having it fly over her head onto your bed or anything else other than her face.

“I’m nothing but your cum dump, master. Please cum all over me, cum on my face, please master!”

Her begging always sets you off. Your last sight is Yeji’s precious features, contorting in anticipation. Vision goes white while your legs tremble a tinge. The perfect canvas to use, you cover her in warm creamy streaks, emphasizing on her delicious lips until her entire face stains pale and sticky. Globs slowly drip from her chin while she sucks you clean with unmatched spit and polish. After a final mouthful, your conclusive bursts find their way down her throat to join the pre-cum already imbibed.

“Thank you, master.” Yeji grins in satisfaction while she scrapes most of the seed on her face with her fingers. 

After some heavy breathing, hers and your own, you both fall back onto the bed in relaxed sitting positions. Turn on the lights in your room with a switch on your bedside. “Name?” you say with a chuckle.

The charade dates all the way back to your first meeting. After a win at a music show that your group managed to sneak over IZ*ONE, you asked her a simple question on stage to her confusion. Back then, you just thought it’d be funny.

Now, it means a little more.

“Yeji.”

Even when not in character, you brush your fingers in her hair like it’s a pet’s fur anyway; it gives you as much comfort as a real pet would. “Good girl.” 

“That was really fun, oppa.” 

“Thanks. You look great, Yeji.” 

Yeji rubs her fingertips and plays with the semen on it before she licks it up. You get up from the bed.

“What, no thanks?” Toss her a towel and she wipes herself down. 

“You’re gonna say that while I’m cleaning your cum off my face?”

“I’m saying that because of it, not in spite of it.” Unfasten the leash from her collar. Only now do you strip down to match her nudity, even surpass it; at least she has that collar. Flop onto your mattress and sink into it as every muscle relaxes in the radiance that follows your climax. 

Yeji cuddles up next to you in your bed after she gets the last sticky drops from her eyes. She really is a little kitten, curling up and fitting snugly in your arms. Only the sounds of waning respiration fill the room while her warmth fills your heart. Doe eyes look up at you until her blinking slows down to halt when her lids close. Eventually you end up similarly restful and in your post-orgasm rest, you become contemplative.

Bright lights. It's all roles. Performances. It’s impossible to completely separate yourself from your image, your persona is an extension of you. Serious yet friendly to the camera, while always charming and suave. You exaggerate your character, you focus on the key points that draw people in. She grasps this as well as you do, having trained for years. No need for a script, no need for acting classes, people always present an outward identity that isn’t a perfect replica.

Dim lights. It's all roles and performances too. Somehow, it’s the same and so very different. Again, this isn’t you, this is an exaggeration of you. You’re not a strict leader to your group but you become an overbearing owner in the night. Instead of reaching for external traits to amplify, you search for the truth inside of yourself. You need someone, a girl to bend to your will. That’s not the sort of thing you could admit out loud, which is why you’re fortunate to find a person so eager for her own truth, to be shaped and toyed with in the dark.

The question of which is truly you is a difficult one. Neither? Both? Questions fall to the wayside when fatigue takes its hold.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Light or dark, it’s more accurate to say both right now because though only blackness lies past the windows, within them, you forgot to turn off the light. Thus you stir, especially with Yeji wriggling in your embrace, inevitable that one of you would wake up in the middle of the night.

“I’ve been thinking,” Yeji whispers to break the silence. Her sultry tone entices you, it sparks warmth within you. 

Open your eyes. The first thing you notice is how Yeji’s nose almost touches the tip of yours, the second is the time, closer to morning than midnight. Finally, your own face looks back on the wall, the light in the room with the darkness outside creating a mirror.

“Ever since we moved out of the dorm...” Yeji pauses with a finger on her lip. “You know. I’ve been living with my parents.”

“You sure? Feels like you’re living here.”

”I know, I know. In fact, I told them I should find a place closer to all my activities. It was kinda tough explaining it to them but I had to try. Just needed somewhere to call my own. I love them, but it’s not the same as having my own home, umm, a new home. I’ve never had a new home before, or really lived anywhere other than my parents house and with ITZY. I guess it’s not that uncommon at our age, but still, look at you...”

Put a hand on her shoulder to calm her thoughts down. “Hold up, hold up, that’s a lot to take in. Aren’t you gonna move in with your group members again in a nicer house?”

“That stuff is still pretty up in the air. But not yet.” Yeji puts the finger resting on her cheek on your lips. “Shh. I need somewhere to stay for a few months at least.”

“Good luck with finding a place,” you say with a wry smile.

“Oppa! Lemme convince you. I know this place is really expensive, but do you need all this space? Just to live alone? They’re gonna find out that one of Korea’s biggest love song writers is a complete loner eventually.”

“Yeji, this is definitely not closer to your projects. You couldn’t get this kind of forest downtown. Trust me, I looked. Plus, I don’t think it’ll go over too well with the press. I’m an idol too, remember? When they find out I have an idol myself as a live-in fuck kitten, that won’t be fun to deal with.”

“W-well, did I say that’s what I was going to do?”

“Alright then. What is your method to convince me then?”

“Um. A dance?”

You scoff.

The basement has plenty of places for natural light to enter, with skylights from the courtyard letting ample enough in to see, even in the quiet hours of dusk. However, only lit by the moon, it’s much darker than the upper floors of your house. It’s nonetheless sufficient to avoid tripping over things such as iron plates, the squat rack, the rowing machine. You can also see the many mirrors in the open concept lower floor, leading to the entertainment room with its bar and projector, its floor a comfortable grey carpet. It’s more of a man cave than a dungeon, something you wish you considered during renovations as it would be appropriate now.

A metal chain connects to a load supporting column, on the other end, a familiar collar. Yeji crawls around in a circle, thankful for the softness of the floor, and she repeats her words like some sort of mantra to acknowledge her bedroom roles. “I’m a nameless pet. I’m a toy only useful for her holes. I love when my master fucks those holes raw, but it doesn’t matter what I like.”

“Very good,” you acknowledge your kitten’s performative talent with an understanding that it comes from an authenticity within her. “You know you left your panties here last time.”

“Yes, master. I thought you’d like them.”

“They’re dirty. I guess that suits you though.” You take the underwear from your pocket. Earlier, you dressed yourself again and retrieved a pair from the stash while Yeji followed her instructions to head to the basement. Pink, but more importantly, “Stained with my cum, your juices. Didn’t you wear this on stage too? Panorama, right?”

“Of course, master.” Throw the panties at your pet. It lands on her head, but it falls off, so she bends down and picks it up by the teeth, making a ball in her mouth. “Mmph.”

“Such a well-trained kitten, didn’t even know they played fetch. That’s more for dogs, but I don’t mind. I’m just not sure what you want.”

She drops the underwear to talk, but paws at it playfully while she does. “I want to please my master. I need to.”

“Only for today?”

“No. Everyday please, master.”

“Well, this is my house and if you want to stay in it, I don’t care when your schedule is. You’re going to be here like a good kitten when I come home, right?”

“Yes, master.”

“Here to suck my dick and wet my cock with your fuckhole on your knees and on the floor whenever, correct?”

Her nods are brisk, more assured. “Yes, master.”

“In that case, we’ll call it a deal, okay kitten? You can seal it with a kiss.”

Yeji looks up at you, unsure for a moment, but quickly comprehends your request. Unzip your pants yourself, then she crawls towards it, panties balled up in one hand. Slowly back up, teasing her by keeping your erect length inches away.

“Don’t you want it badly?”

“I do, master!”

Grab her hair and slap her. “Your voice should be no louder than mine unless I tell you to, is that clear?”

She bobs her head up and down in swift approval. Yeji sobs, though more at the lack of dick in her mouth than the punishment. When you reverse all the way to your bar, she continues moving forward, limb by limb. So close to your cock, yet when she leaps forward, the chain tautens and yanks her backwards which snaps her head back. You rush down to her level.

“Are you okay?” you mouth and she nods promptly. The fullness in your voice returns and you roll your eyes as you stand up. “Kitten wants my cock so badly, you turn dumb for it, right?”

“Yes, master.”

“Give me the panties,” you order. Yeji complies, a meek paw handing them to you. The musky scent overwhelms you. It’s the same scent between her legs right now, the same scent on your sheets. 

That scent will mark the whole house. Whiff one last time before you set the cloth on the counter. Take your shaft with your hand and bend it towards her. Yeji struggles but manages to ghost it with the tip of her tongue. Her licks thirst especially for the dot of white that dribbles from your slit, but out of her reach, she mewls and whines again. 

“Tsk. You already have so much milk in your tummy. I didn’t even mean to feed you, I just wanted to slather your face and greedy little kitten had to eat it all up.” You rub your cock on her cheeks and forehead while you draw in a sharp breath. “Hsss. Tsk, I should’ve punished you then.”

With considerable weight, the slap of your cock on her face leaves new imprints to match the now pinker hand marks on her tits. Yeji squeals with each whack but she keeps her mouth open and her tongue lapping, even if she can barely graze your erection. She pulls back and inhales deeply before a strangled noise indicates how she travails for a taste.

After enough to soak the underside of your shaft, you acquiesce—not out of any care to fulfill her wishes but just to balance out the moisture on your length. All you need is a slight buck forward and her mouth pounces on your dick, every drop of her drool coating it. 

Yeji takes her hands off the floor and holds onto your tip with her lips to keep her up as she tries to scoop up all the saliva. By twisting around the base of your rod, her right hand supplements the work of her mouth, unable to take you all the way down as the leash still constricts her, while her left hand gently toys with your sack. Instead of using her face like any of her other holes, having already done that moments ago, you let the raring girl assume responsibility. You don’t need to tell Yeji not to get it twisted. The struggle between her hungry mouth and the collar on her neck cautions her that you’re in charge no matter what.

The travertine countertop digs into your hands as you lean back. “Fucking hell, you’re insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” Yeji hums in a low moan around your cock.

“Like it’ll be the last time, nngh, when there’ll be plenty more in the future.” Shift your weight off the bar and right foot after left, shuffle in a circle around the column that fixes her.

Yeji follows you much like an adorable baby duckling.

She can’t quack right now though. Again, your kitten keeps her mouth’s grip on your rod firm and steady even when the rest of her body is unsteady while she shuffles likewise, though on her four limbs.

You reach the back of the leather couch in your entertainment area, admittedly squirming as much as Yeji because of her resplendent suction. Lower yourself behind the sofa until you’re seated on the floor, misusing the sofa for the sake of convenience. A longer chain would have been judicious, to let you sit on the cushioned seats, but you had no time nor willpower to think when you tied up Yeji to the pillar. 

Even on the rare occasion where you’re willing to bring yourself to her level, she doesn’t bother with eye contact, breathlessly bobbing her head away. Yeji lets your cock free from her mouth, though still in a supplicant bow in your crotch, between your legs. “Master, please, may I ride you?”

“Did I say stop?” You spit on her face. “Did I ever say you can ask me for anything?”

“N-no. Master.”

You spread the spit all over her dainty features. While she wiped most of her makeup clean the first time, there’s still plenty to smudge, to vitiate the girl as the cock-hungry slut she tries so hard to be. To make your point, grab her chin and urge her to look back at you.  Her eyes glaze with a speck of lust, a little more with fear that drives it. “Clearly you have more to learn. You’re lucky I’m spent. Get on top of that dick.”

Yeji stifles a happy squeal before she carefully backs up. Slouch against the couch and the ground. Sure, the posture isn’t the best, but she needs a little more give in the chain for her to ride you properly. While your pet’s exigency to fuck your erection amuses you, sometimes you have to be more practical to chase your high. The two of you wordlessly find the perfect distance so that she can mount your lap while alleviating only a touch of pressure on her throat. As a substitute, fingers wrap around her neck. They don’t give more tension than the collar, but you press their tips anyway into the sides just to remind her true position, even while she’s physically above you.

“Are you going to cum without my permission?“

“No, no, of course not, master.”

“Okay. I don’t need to tell you what to do, right?”

With a hurried nod, Yeji’s legs wrap around your waist. Though you can’t see much in the barely lit room, especially with the tits that distract your vision, the light touch and wetness of her cunt on your head inform you that her heat trickles out of her ambrosia, even more than before. She brings her body down, at first holding on to your shoulders, though recognizes from your stern glare that she is not to touch you. Yeji puts her hands behind her back, and as a result, needs more force to split herself onto your cock. At every prior encounter, she was content leaving the hard work of penetration to you. The natural lubrication is almost not enough for her to kiss the base of your length under her own power.

You come to plenty of realizations, even as Yeji accelerates the bouncing pace of her ass. She always enjoys something around her neck—whether it’s a collar that marks her as your property, or your strong hands that do the same when they leave purple on her milky skin—but by the way her pussy flutters every time you inflict more stress on her throat, you only now realize that it’s also about denying her one of a person’s most basic needs, the lack of air intensifying her arousal.

Though even the simplest of animals need to breathe.

“Master!” Yeji cries out between strangled puffs of air. “You’re so big, hah, and you fill me up, hah, so well.”

"Didn't know a pet could talk like such a slut, but I guess my kitten's always in fucking heat huh? Telling me she needs to live here, she just wants to be a fuck hole all day, isn't that right?"

Your kitten doesn’t need to nod or vocalize her agreement in any way, you can tell by how little she pays heed to the chain that holds her back by the neck. Despite the fetter, Yeji rides you as though your erection might disappear if she doesn't fuck herself onto you hard enough, if she doesn't cum all over your cock. Every bracing jerk up and down causes you to slump further into the floor, further into the couch, so you back up to fix your stance. 

In return, she has to bend back herself, the chain unyielding as her ass follows your crotch in its repetitive motions. Once you reach your couch with your spine upright, Yeji has to hold herself up on one arm behind, with her toes barely touching the floor in the awkward pose.

“I call you kitten but you’re acting like a slutty bunny that needs to be bred with how you bounce on that dick at any cost.”

The words set her off. “Master, please, I need to cum,” she says.

She doesn’t need to say it. You notice easily. The tightness is obvious.

More tellingly, her hands replace yours on her neck and you’re too adrift in your own lightheadedness to object. Plus she’s much less lenient with herself than you are.

“Cum, cum, master, please, I need it,” she repeats between uneven sighs.

“Hmm.” You pull yourself back up to a better posture, even if it means not leaning back on the couch. Kiss into her neck. It only brings her closer to her demise, especially when you leave more purple after you increase your suction on the sensitive skin. Your pet knows she needs to hold back. While you’re tolerant of her blubbering fucked-out disarray now, consequent punishments may cost more than one orgasm.

More than whatever sweet floral soap mixes and the territorial marking musk of sex, the smell of desperation hits your nose. Yeji’s neediness is fragrant with the sweat splashing between your two bodies and saliva from her lips, kept open in a constant ‘O’ with pleasure. “Cum,” she rasps, though the sound barely comes out as a syllable from her slack mouth.

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack. The sounds of her ass leaping up and down hold you just as spellbound as the rest of your senses.

“Right,” she says, eyes wavering and searching why you aren’t answering. So Yeji isn’t even trying to bait another punishment with an incorrect answer—or rather, request. Instead, she needs your friction, some stimulation on her tender little clit, anything at all but she is too absent in bliss to ask properly until now. “May I cum? Master?”

You hum and haw, your fingers rapping the floor. Your insouciance contrasts Yeji’s vivid zeal, the sloppy expression that her face wears, her legs straining and bending to shove her ass all the way down your cock. Her pleasure doesn’t matter, but you can’t deny how it influences you; besides, you feel your vigor waning and need her walls to milk you dry so you can cum as well.

But is she a good enough girl? Her body is so delicious, her role, her act, her kitten routine so practiced, you might not even ask and concede to her if you were a weaker man. 

“Are you a good pet?” you say by some remnant resolve.

“I am, I am!”

Before you can tell her to go ahead, Yeji slams down, your cock twitching as much as her insides. “Not good enough,” you grit through your teeth. 

Reenergized, assume control and fuck your dick up into her by bucking your hips. “Not good enough?” she whines, her tone falling.

“No.” Though the end product is the same—your shaft leaving and entering her body—you start to bear the brunt of the work, the brunt of your crotch into her butt that you hold up with two hands. Instead of Yeji riding you, powerless to your cock, you claim your kitten as its rightful owner with your torrid plunges. Her breeding hole is glad to accept. You’re unable to lean back into the couch, because each thrust is so vigorous that it brings you closer and closer to the column. Jam your feet into the carpeted floor to redirect your momentum into Yeji.

“I—I, I don’t know if I c-can hold it—” A particular graze of your cockhead against a sensitive spot interrupts her.

“I didn’t. Say. You could. Fucking cum,” you declare with stern pauses. 

Internal heat melts your breath away, then sharp throbs originating from your crotch restarts that breathing. You’re near. 

“If you’re going to be a good fucking kitten, you go at the word go, every single time. You suck at the word suck, ahh, ngh, you kneel at my command, and most importantly...”

Yeji yelps and pulls back when you jab a couple fingers at her tummy, where a distension disappears and appears faster and faster, before your tongue sticks down her mouth and exits just as quickly.

“Ffff…” Hot air escapes your lungs when your focus shifts for a second back to the incredible sensations wringing your cock. “When I breed this messy pussy, you better remember your proper name. What is it?”

“Nothing,” Yeji cries out.

One stroke.

Two.

“Cum.” You add approving grunts and slip a finger between her legs to help along, even if the single word is all she needs. Clear liquid spurts from her crotch, a slicker fluid joins the tensing muscles around your cock, and Yeji whimpers with her lips firm against yours, slobbering and drawing out air and pleasure as much as she can. Her up and down motions dwindle, but her whole body palpitates.

The order is as much for you as it is for her. You can empathize with Yeji. The earlier warmth and pulsations collide, and in that collision, they explode. Bright lights and dim lights dance in your vision again, even when the room appears darker than it ever has. Yeji ensconces you wholly, from her limbs and tits clinging to you as much as her cunt, to her ever-present, ever-changing sounds that reverberate in your spacious basement. Unintended moans, your deep sighs of pleasure, her needy mewls looking for a last surge in her climax. You join in her reverie, your attention to the outside world fading. Every fateful meeting with Yeji rolls through your mind, every role that you play. The inside you and the outside you blend as one while your sticky seed blends with her juices, its viscosity making her pussy’s suction unbearable. Yeji’s tongue blends with yours too. 

Work through the stimulation anyway. Shots and more shots of your cum fire into her edacious chamber. 

You can only coax your eyes open for a moment to observe your artistry. 

Beautiful pale skin stains with all sorts of red and purple and spit, while silky smooth legs quiver. Tight toned stomach bulges with your cock, large soft breasts press into your torso with its stiff bumps and a perfectly round ass ambiently jiggles with every ounce of your load, every spasm of your cock. Cherry red lips smear against yours, revealing a lighter natural color. 

As you disconnect from your kiss, the two of you suspire, breaking the thread of spit to fall between your chests, though hers is more glossy wet. Yeji smiles. It’s weak, but as proud as ever, its corner upturned like before. 

Your hearts find its timing once again, her chest bumping heavily against yours. Some lazy grinding before she unsheathes you, and her breasts uncompress as she backs up though she straddles you. Yeji takes whatever leaks and fingers herself with sticky digits.

“Still want more?” you ask.

“Mhmm.” Her reddish cunt is sore but she entertains herself with her hand anyway.

“So your name’s still not Yeji?”

The kitten shakes her head.

“God, you’re gonna be a lot of work aren’t you?”

You peel the girl off your thighs, soaked with all sorts of fluid.

“Now if you really want a new home, be a patient pet for me, okay?” you say, as you grab an extra set of keys on the bar counter. “You might still be in the mood, but I’m just one guy. I need some air. I’ll be back later. I better find you in the same clothes you have right now, you know, like a good kitten. I wanna see you outside in my garden when I get back.”

Yeji holds back a smirk. While she takes off her restraining chain, she keeps her collar on. Even if it hides the faint bruises, it designates her as your owner all the same. “Thank you.”

“Who knows? Maybe people’ll put two and two together when I post the pictures to my story.”

A dark Sunday dawn is perfect for a scenic drive.

A pet frolics in your garden.

A pearly trail drips out of her like a tail.

Too Far (Yeri)

“Just let me put the tip in, I need it badly.“

When Yeri puts it between her fingers, it’s fine.

“I promise, all I need is the head of your cock.”

Between her feet and toes, that’s okay too—she must be frustrated. A night of sleep clearly doesn’t help. Then, another day.

“I’ll just suck on it a bit, okay?”

Then the tip of your cock enters her lips, and Yeri does nothing more than she promised. She’s a good girl. Yeri must be frustrated, stuck with you for over a year. Sure, maybe she could have been better and waited a few more weeks, but you’re not going to argue either way.

“I just… It’s not enough.”

You smile weakly. This feels like your last day, somehow. “You know what I’ll say.”

“I know you’ll say yes, oppa.” Yeri hits you on the shoulder. “It’s not about your permission.”

When she puts the tip into her wet entrance, maybe it’s a little less fine.

“I just need to justify it to myself,” Yeri mumbles before she groans.

Pull her hair and take her lips an inch away from yours. “Justify what?”

She weighs down and sinks onto your cock, putting a hand over her mouth. “Can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yeri whispers.

Grab that hand to see the uncertainty on her face. “Look, this was never okay in the first place, you know that right?”

Yeri moved in with you before March 2020. Unfortunate timing to lose your job. Not really an excuse for her to make this kind of move on you.

No excuse on your part either. But your morality died to make way for selfish desire long ago.

Her nodding head sways diagonally until it shakes side to side instead. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“It’s too late now.” The tip of your cock kisses Yeri’s womb. “Maybe not that late.”

She can’t bear to make eye contact with you, burying her head in your neck instead. Yeri moans on you, though it’s more whiny than delighted. “Mmm! It is! Your girlfriend’s gonna be so mad.”

“My girlfriend?”

Yeri twists her hip. You scoff.

“What’s our parents going to think?”

Her ass bounces up and down, its movement violent at the reminder of your relationship. Yeri’s head turns away even though her eyes slam shut.

“As long as I don’t breed you, it’s not too late.”

A warm breath shoots out of your lungs at some pressure, then that pressure builds. A different pressure wraps its legs around you and marks your neck. The pressure releases. You’re too deep. A drain unclogs with a satisfying pop.

Too far.

It’s too late.

Too Far for Two (Yeri, Nayeon)

assume any trigger warnings apply

"You know that's not a good enough excuse, it's not like we're even related. Unlike... What the fuck is wrong with you, oppa?" she says the last word with disgust, like she doesn't even want to remind you.

"Nayeon." You hiss through grit teeth and tighten your grasp. "Close the door."

"Okay, stop fucking her then."

Yeri's pouty lips on your neck, Nayeon's furious eyes and brows, they only serve to embolden the pace of your cock burrowing in and out, your fingers burrowing into soft thighs. "I said close the door."

Slam.

Yeri's ass slams louder against your crotch.

"You fucking sicko." Nayeon walks towards the two of you on the couch, but her steps are extremely unsure.

"I'm sorry Miss Five Million Comebacks, at least Yerim has time for me!"

She has more than time for you, if her bare body counts as time. "Ugh. Yerim, do you have anything to say?" Nayeon crosses her arms.

Yeri whimpers and moans as her hands climb their way up your spine. Her light touch tickles, her heavy touch coaxes a moan yourself.

"Great. Come on, what the fuck could be so great about this loser's dick?" Nayeon says, her transfixed eyes contradicting her words.

"Nayeon, please." Your breaths become heavy.

"Please, what? What do you want?"

"Don't, fff, fuck." Your hands follow the same path that Yeri traces, but up her back instead, just to grab her locks and slow her torrid pace. "Don't tell anyone."

"Fine. I'm only doing this for Yerim though. Fucking hell, don't tell me you came in her," Nayeon says when she sees your creamy cock becoming even creamier.

She approaches the two of you, but her tongue falls out of her subtly open mouth, a telling action without her knowledge. Your hands first instinct is to stop her from getting on her knees. No reason in your brain, though it makes sense with the pressure of pussy lips around your sensitive shaft, still throbbing from its orgasm. "What's your plan, Miss Im—"

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Nayeon licks up the sticky mess that spills from Yeri's tight, sore slit.

"So we're not breaking up?" Your mouth rounds in bewilderment. What's happening? Her curious tongue meets your shaft and cleans thoroughly up and down, before she takes your balls in her mouth.

"Uh, um. Depends, b-but, it's not like I..." She gulps. "Like the taste of your cum."

Her licks become more and more desperate, but unfortunately, your cock gets in the way, pumping everything left into Yeri after the third or fourth time this session alone.

Yeri can't bear to look at her friend, though she'd have to bend her neck too much down to see Nayeon, and she can't bear to look at you, so instead she slumps onto you in a weary embrace. No matter how spent your cock is, you still slide between Yeri's sloppy thighs, just to interrupt Nayeon's tongue and poke at her pillowy lips.

How far is too far?

Evidently, not far enough.

Peel Yeri's tired body off your dick onto your lap, and Nayeon tempts to stick her tongue far, far enough to go all the way down Yeri's hole and retrieve every last drop of your seed.

Good to see your step-sister and sister get along.

Good Morning (Yuqi)

Your eyes are only half-open behind dark cloth. Mumbles take time to form into words. “Mommy, please.”

“Please, what?” Yuqi says with a firm hiss. Her sly little laughs when she grinds her bare pussy against your sweatpants are so different from her normally hearty chuckles when she reacts to her own jokes.

Your breaths stagger at the cloying restriction betwixt your lips, a musky taste on your tongue. What a way to wake up. Yuqi only puts the lightest weight on your wrists above your head with one hand, but it’s not about her physical muscle. Despite the difference between her usual outgoing, spunky self and the quiet sternness she holds now in the bedroom, she exudes absolute confidence wherever she is.

Ruminate on the damp white cloth in your mouth. You know it’s not just stained with her juices, you came inside her before the two of you slept—more like as the two of you slept, lazy rocking leading to your dream-like climax in her slippery snug squeeze.

Her other hand caresses your jaw and chin, then back to your cheeks, and it so badly wants to stay at your nose. You can’t see past your sleep eye mask but you know with the way that she lightly pinches that she wants you to suffocate just a little. Must be revenge. Yuqi says she’s okay with your snoring, yet you hold a slight yet absurd worry of a pillow over your face.

Of course, she’s far too sweet to actually do that. At least in your sleep. Sex? That’s a whole nother game.

Those pants struggle and its waistband tightens around the tip of your aboundingly blood-filled dick. Your mind spins like a top. “Please, anything. Let me, phuuh, let me breathe, let me cum, please mommy, let me—”

She flicks your forehead.

Give your best pout, but clearly Yuqi doesn’t budge. Well, she budges, along your clothed thigh and at a continuous rhythm, but she gives no give to any part of you that needs to give.

“Not until I cum first.”

The obstruction over your eyes is a worse punishment. You don’t even get a silhouette with how well the fabric of the mask does its job. Whenever you fuck each other to sleep, those pants are the most either of you wear, and you know for a fact her little chest is uncovered by the way the firm nubs pressed into your equally unclad back when you slept.

You would love to see the way that chest rises and falls while she stimulates herself on you, or to watch how her eyelids seal tight in pleasure. Alas, you have to be satisfied with her vulnerable whimpers, the feather-like touch of her fingers on your features, a light rosy scent from her lotion and the sheets.

In her self-obtained ecstasy, she plods slowly up your leg, hooking her own leg underneath your less encumbered thigh. No matter how much bigger you are than her, your body yields to her without complaint, even if your feeble keens beg for more. Yuqi spreads your legs apart and in the same motion, twists her feet to pull your sweatpants a touch, the elastic around your waist now pressing against the middle of your shaft.

She leans over. You can’t view her, but the shifting weight tells a bit; the warm saliva on your abs says more. Yuqi makes a wet path from next to your belly button, down to your cockhead, all while she increases the enthusiasm of her hips that rock on you. Her hands stop bothering with restraining or stroking, and instead sink into the mattress to turn her small body into a wild engine, using you as little more than the impetus for her orgasm.

Yuqi slides a bit further up and in one slip, her wringing wetness tests at your dick that peeks out.

“Oh! Careful,” she teases airily. The direction is both for you, not to move an inch without her permission, and herself, a reminder to let you daze a little longer while she’s on top.

Her arms crawl behind her, which you realize by how her hands weigh down on your legs. Yuqi straddles you but she is off-center, her thigh giving pressure to your dick.

“Careful, careful,” Yuqi mutters. “Here.”

One hand presses harder onto your leg because the other leaves to take both the panties from your mouth and the mask from your eyes. Give her a weak smile, much weaker than the grin she wears, even if bliss fills you at the sight of your girlfriend. She’s wetter than you imagine, not just from her crotch, but at sweat which comes from the early exertion and shines from the early sun. “Thank you, mommy.”

“Tsss. Should I fuck this cock for more of your load? Cover it with my juices and spit, maybe even a bit of your cum from last night?”

Her undecided pussy lips waver. They waver back and forth, they waver side to side, each pass cleaning your shaft then dirtying it again. “Whatever you want, mommy.”

Yuqi, mommy, your girlfriend, she gets what she wants. Glim into the center of her eyes. What does she want? Her hole threatens to swallow you whole when she’s at the throbbing tip, the naughty tip whose slit leaks pre-cum when she hasn’t even told you to let go yet. Yet her delicate fingers play at your erection like pottery, and even they are unsure whether they want to milk you dry or leave you hanging the whole day. The former is fun, the latter is torment, but maybe worthwhile, as the saved load might suffice to glaze every inch of her skin.

It’s not up to you to decide. No matter the outcome, you sigh in satisfaction and lick your lips before Yuqi bends forward to take that tongue into her mouth.

The top spins and it wobbles a bit.

Reciprocal Function (Arin)

Gfycat link

Her breaths are curt, irregular, and Arin blows out a final exhalation through pursed lips as her eyes roll back from her peak of bliss. The gratitude in her smile makes those eyes scrunch up, though some hair falls with sweat over her face. “Fuck, haah. I guess you are pretty good with your mouth.”

Wipe your mouth. “Delicious.” You sit up next to her on the couch. “Should’ve let me do this sooner.”

“Speaking of which…” Arin carefully ties up her disheveled hair then trails down the side of your torso with her fingers and tongue. “My turn.”

Even from this angle, sitting on the couch while Arin kneels in front of you, you can still see the glisten between her thighs. Thoughts of her pleasure fade quickly when your soft dick goes in her mouth like a piece of meat she wants to savor, and Arin lazily wraps her lips around the base. As it hardens, it starts to fill more of her throat until it pokes the back. The once limp shaft that could almost mold down her wet hole now elicits the first of many gags when it hits her uvula.

Arin lets it stay warm and cozy in its home for a while, the only real stimulation being the way she looks up at you. She can express so much in her watery eyes, gratitude, love, but most importantly a lustful need for your dick to return when she lets it slip out of her mouth.

“Hope I do half as good a job as you did… fuck,” Arin says in awe, as though she’s never seen the full thing before.

The shaft crosses her face, her lips and tongue on its underside while her hand looks tiny jerking it. She’s having trouble, she can’t even fit the thing down her throat but she wants so bad to pleasure you. So you let her explore you. Arin wants so bad to get a reaction from you but you watch in silence with nothing but a small smirk betraying your emotions. Of course her lips are delicious on your dick, considering how deliciously they kiss.

At the end of the day, Arin’s at her prettiest when she works for it.

She wants to choke on it at once, but the thickness just isn’t possible for her to swallow you in a smooth motion. Her lips have to crawl their way up, breaking barriers in her throat one centimeter at a time with tears in her eyes. Those pretty eyes, once filled with enthusiasm, fall half-lidded. She’s tipsy in your taste. Her lashes flutter.

You pat Arin’s head. She winks, but it’s not a suggestive wink; it’s simply a physical reflex. One borne of having a huge obstruction in her throat, one borne of overt keenness to gag around you.

Sloshing noises show she’s still eager to choke on your cock, even if she’s only partially alert.

Arin hesitates as she leaves your cock. There is not a chance she wants to breathe, but she has to for some semblance of cognizance, lest she’s an oxygen-deprived fuck toy, a limp fleshlight with lips. The tip of her tongue sticks out of her mouth adorably. A tiny string of spit drips.

She rubs your shaft with her hands, polishing both your cock and her palms with her saliva. With twisting motions, Arin works your dick back and forth, needing both hands while she nurses the tip. Those tiny strands of saliva become heavy enough to fall. Cleaning her hands up, she licks her hand, and unknowingly, starts sucking on two fingers with her eyes closed.

“Babe, my cock is right here.”

“Sorry, I just…” Her mouth does better apologizing than her mouth.

You lie down onto the couch and Arin crawls knuckles first around to climb back up. Hunger for your cock reduces her to an animal. Her prone ass jiggles a touch when she has to stick it up to fit on the couch with you. It’s not about her comfort. Arin had her share of pleasure. She takes your length with both hands. Her lips stay puckered on the base of your shaft and she looks up at it cross-eyed—it’s as big as her face and mesmerizes her. For a moment, she does nothing but spill saliva onto your balls.

“I can barely get half this thing down my throat. Mmm. How’s this thing going to fit in my pussy? Or my ass? M-maybe you’d be okay cumming between my tits? My thighs while my hands massage it? No, I can’t waste a drop. Your cum is so yummy, I have to swallow it one way or anot—”

All talk and gagging sounds become background noise to the distant ringing in your ear when you shove your length in without notice.

“Gggg, ggg, kgh.”

Arin tries her best to take all of you but you have to help hold her head down.

“Ahhh.” The sound resonates as she sticks her tongue out, which spills saliva as she licks up the entire underside when she extracts herself out. That saliva makes a small yet striking trail from the tip of that tongue to the tip of your dick. Arin knows just how good she looks, especially when she’s messy.

An entire bubbly froth seeps down the side of your erection and Arin slurps it up just to spit it back out. A small stream from the head of your cock ends at your base and her little mouth is right there to clean up her mess. Another string slowly falls from the tip of her tongue and she twists that string around the head of your cock, again just to sip it up through kissy lips. But those lips, instead of sucking and nibbling on the side of your shaft, move up to try and suck the seed straight from your leaky slit. More and more, the sticky white adds new color and texture to the mess of saliva that almost pools around your shaft.

Then, back inside. You get so deep that her throat doesn’t even make gagging sounds anymore, it just squeaks while your cock completely fills her and prevents noise from escaping as much as air. Slowly, you push in small strokes, until you thrust hard enough to leave bruises at the back of her mouth. Unlike spanks or hickeys, those are marks you can keep for yourself.

Arin maintains a constant rhythm taking your dick in and out, bobbing her head down and back up. Something like:

Da-da-da-da, da-da-da-da-da-da

But the wet gasped exhales of air around your shaft are a little closer to “ghk” than “da”. The specifics don’t matter. What matters is how the driving suction force sends you closer. By the way Arin closes her eyes and squirms her butt, it’s almost like she’s the one receiving the near-orgasmic pleasure. You understand, you felt the same way eating her delectable pussy out.

But no warning can really alert you to the sudden release of every muscle’s tension. Arin takes her final bow. You’d give a standing ovation if you weren’t feeding her all the seed your balls can give. Even through the delirious deepthroat that deprives her of her oxygen, Arin manages to massage your balls and feel the way they pulsate and jump as much as your erection when you explode.

Instead of petting Arin’s wet hair—you realize it’s not just sweat but the sloppy spit from her mouth too—you grasp a clump of it and pull to make sure that she wastes none of it.

Not that you need to, she would never waste any of it.

Now Arin chokes on two things: your cock and your cum. One a constant firmness in her throat through your pulses and the other a viscous fluid that clings to her clogged pipe and slowly flows down to its final home of her stomach. Tears in her eyes are thankful that even in the hypersensitivity of climax, you keep your softening shaft in her mouth to savor your culminating pangs.

When she finally lets you free, Arin blows on it as if to dry it of her saliva, but she licks it up all the same. “Aangh, angh, mmm. You say I’m delicious huh? I think this dick is twice as good.” Arin flops to lay next to you on the couch.

“Nuh uh, your juices are so addicting.”

“Well, maybe later when you’re back and running—oh, is that what I think it is against my thigh? Already? Well, when you’re fully ready,“ Arin says as legs nudge and coax your erection back to life, "How about we both take care of each other at the same time and find out who cums first? You know, quid pro quo.”

Conjecture (Somi)

A conclusion formed on the basis of incomplete information. Your dick not inside of Somi’s tight body, that’s as incomplete as it gets. Hypothesis: It’s probably fine to fuck at the hotel’s indoor pool. Only bright white fluorescent lights illuminate 3 a.m. and neither of you have seen anyone else, not even a security guard complaining about your mutual lack of undergarments.

Harder than the actual bones in your limbs, your cockhead lays at the base of her warm stomach. You squat slightly above her waist to keep your stance, while her thighs fall past the edge of the lounge chair. Those legs are just as warm as everything else since there’s yet to be any sign of AC to combat the summer heat. Nothing’s happened yet, but the simple groans from within her throat bubble up past spit that pools. You give Somi more to think about when you slide that dick up her toned tummy. It cradles in the trace shape of her abdominal muscles, muscles you imagine flexing when you actually fuck her. Even if she still has her top on, those curves say enough to come to a result: You need to record every inch of her body in your touch.

No, you wouldn’t go this slowly either when you plunge where you’re supposed to, but this is about the spectacle as much as it is careful observation. This is what’s going in her tightness, dragging your shaft up and down almost as a warning. Somi takes the warning the wrong way and drools. For your part, you also spit on your cock, helping add new texture to her soft skin. Already sweaty despite having done nothing but laze in the chair for hours, the saliva lets you slip up and down even smoother. It also highlights further the shape of sinewy flesh so that when you fuck her, you can watch that glint fall and rise, the recurring prominence through her abs as natural as breathing. But fervid moans, failed in restraint and louder than her muted noises now, will inevitably reveal the unnaturalness of your width inside, however sybaritic it may be.

This is not conjecture. Your cock always has that effect on her.

Somi rocks back and forth, but her clit gets nothing in return. Every part of her begs. Soft moans become urgent whimpers, while fingers weave with yours and lead them to her waist. You could wrap your digits around the whole thing and ram into her in one fell swoop. Instead, your hands return to your shaft, kneading both your member and her abs at the same time, earning a tortured giggle from her lips. You keep your pace steady, but her expressions evolve unceasingly.

You’ll write down your findings later in her womb. At this moment, an experimental thrust.

Again.

Again.

It’s a bit uncertain though given the unfavorable conditions for collecting proper data but measurements put the bulge in Somi’s stomach past her belly button. Your hand wanders from the side of her hip up to that point on her midriff, then presses down. It doesn’t need to rub around to measure, but it’s all academic now. Thrust again. Just to be sure.

The Yarn We Spin ft. Gyuri

You're a close vastness, a far proximity: an immeasurable distance. I shouldn't have tried. We’re under the same blanket but a wall doesn’t just divide us; it launches you up into the ink of space, blistering past the threshold, past our observable two-dimensional universe. I don’t claim to be more real than you but this elusive perpendicular axis makes you merely a character in my eyes. Distances can be broken down with time—the wall between reality and fiction can't be breached the same.

What a paradox. You’re a character but your life couldn’t possibly be a story. Don't take offense. Most people’s lives aren’t blockbusters. Good stories have a good arc with a good ending, or at least an interesting one. Yet absent closure, these stories will be written anyway because people will wake up, work, eat, then sleep, without a hand to author their plot. In addition, no matter how boring they might be, these narratives intertwine in their own unique way. Nobody’s life can be recounted without at least one other person.

You told me about your mother’s story after all. It’s not the same story as mine, but it’s a story we, and everyone else, have. There were tales about the rest of your family, your friends, and your coworkers. These minuscule strands define our lives, weave into the ropes of humanity then fray. Sure, people die but they also break up, they move away, maybe they just disappear. I’ve never found that sort of thing sad. Maybe its inevitability makes me too objective about life. If I don’t move on, then I’ll never move on, and then I’ll be stuck.

It’s dark. Even the light that passes my eyelids doesn’t make me want to open them. So I didn’t move on. So I am stuck. But I need these empty words, these preambular paragraphs of stories about stories that don’t mean anything. More than nothing, something that pretends to be anything is actually less than nothing at all. This something leads to a cruel, self-feeding doubt. No matter how much I want the silence, this story will be written anyway.

“Gyuri.” Your light voice and lighter touch on my neck breaks down walls, finally frees me from my somnolent musings. How indulgent of me, that’s all the wall was—an insecure construction—for now.

“Thank you.” The words clear a scratch in my throat.

“Thank you? What for?”

Spring air through the open window hits all my bare skin and makes me clutch the soft blanket fabric. An amused breath from my nose. “I dunno.”

“Well, you’re welcome.” Hug me tight, and I hug you tighter. The simple, obvious things you do keep me away from those rambling thoughts. They tend to devolve.

“By the way...” My voice peters out in a low fry. “You remember Jungmo and Yumi?”

“From the acting class?”

I nod and stretch my arms up. “Mhm. They broke up.”

“Oh.” Gather some blanket back for yourself. “I had no idea they were dating.”

“That’s why you should’ve stayed in the classes.”

“I dunno, it never really clicked for me.”

“Yeah. I figured.” A final squeeze in my embrace before I roll out from under the sheets and sit up. My hair’s a wavy mess. “I need to shower by the way."

I see your playful sniffs. You’re just trying to get a closer look at my body. "Yeah, you smell like it."

"Pfft, alright stinky, you're one to talk." A bit of evidence from last night spills between my legs. You run to get some tissues. "Thanks."

When you kneel to help clean up, I love your little awkward smile, both corners half-raised. I love your face, your hair, your body, your personality. Without much thought, since those are what makes you, I'd be saying I love you.

I guess I do since no friendship exists without love. With a kiss on your forehead and a restored pep in my step, I head to the bathroom.

Sprinkles form from my fingertips as I let water find the trails of my body that it wants to follow, like little trains that forge their own tracks. The mist comforts me enough that I could fall asleep again, or at least my brain could. Not a good thing, I would start to overthink once more.

You don’t have to knock on the door, I would never be mad at you barging in. But thanks anyway. There is little pretense of washing ourselves. At once, we twist together, so that even if my soapy wet skin lathers yours, neither of us would mistake it for a quick clean.

"Fuck." A simple utterance when you take one of my nipples in your mouth. The suddenness shuts my eyes then careful teeth lock our embrace tighter. For an ounce of air, sometimes we untwist. The pace is like our rope. Whenever one of us found a partner, the other kept their distance. Now we’re the opposite of distant, spinning our yarn together. It’d save water if we were bathing. Your tongue takes its precious time up my chest, up my neck, until our eyes meet. Your lips taste good, you know? It’s nothing so grand, just a bit salty, a tad addicting.

“So, should I clean you up a bit more?” you ask when you pull your head back. I crease my features, perplexed.

My perplexity slips like your two fingers inside my pussy, replaced by a soft instinctive whimper. That’s when I realize there’s still some of your sticky white still sloshing in me from last night. The fingers within me move like they’re stirring, while your thumb works on my clit to escalate the automatic sounds from my mouth, recaptured in your lips.

You make a loud “mwah” as a point when we separate once again. Your eyes promise the world in them. I can’t ever let myself be fooled. Instead, I fall into my body’s desire again, arms less active in holding your back. I don’t really need to since you’ve pushed me up to the wall now.

“You, nnuh, having fun there?”

A pointless question, your smile answers it. With the other free hand, hold me up by the waist. My limbs grow slack as you continue to circle and thrust at the same time. While the warm water washes away the increasing sweat, I still notice your hand getting messy with your own semen from my pussy. You’re so focused. Even when I look away, you’re still telling promises you can’t keep with that intense gaze.

“I think, I, I think, you’re gonna make me...” I shut up when you lean your head in, but instead you tip a bit to the side for a chaste smooch to the cheek. “Wha—”

Then I really shut up when your lips follow the trail that your tongue makes. “Have I ever told you how good you taste?”

“All the time!” I whine. I like to think it’s uncharacteristic, but the skill with which you touch me always pulls me out of my mind. It makes me think less of the real world, into some near dream state. My walls swallow you, as though they have a mind of their own, and they suck you in like your mouth does to my neck.

I have to. I need to. I reach for your cock. Wet with water, I try to spit on it but miss. You don’t seem to care though, like my fingers are just an added bonus to the replete pleasure you give me.

But only a few pumps in, and the dizziness that your fingers induce comes to its natural resolution.

This kind of story, some simple smut, is so repetitive, but fuck, I love it. You have so many ways to pen my climax.

“Gyuri, that’s it. You’re going to cum on my fingers.” Water bogs down our heavy breaths. The statement is sure as day, like my orgasm is a given.

This one flashes me between the real and the surreal. That dream state slams me back out of the deep, to watch your unfailing fingers. It was a quick lesson for you a while ago—when I'm cumming, don't you dare stop.

My body reacts to the orgasm with every little sudden motion.

My cum and your cum (whatever's left) flows from between my legs like a stream of consciousness. How apt; my brain drips out its thoughts and leans back to irreality as you press forth. Time is a timid thing, not allowing me to understand only seconds pass in real time. Your story orbiting mine is chaos like two incalculable pendulums, too sensitive to initial conditions.

Then, out of my own body, I see you. Trying to catch your own breath, while I throb all over your hands. I see the shower, my apartment, the city, Earth, space, then true space with its ever present vacuum. And like a vacuum, I'm sucked back and you're holding me with a smile and a more delicate clutch. Well, not that delicate, your hands quickly lower back to my ass.

"That was good."

It’s not as though I need you to praise me while you pat my head. If anything, I want to thank you for that climax, but you’ve heard enough of my gratitude.

Actions over words. Fingertips over the tip of your dick, a meeting of the most sensitive nerves. The simple act of wrapping my fingers already makes it difficult for you to stand.

I spit on my hands, taking wetness from my pussy. I try to tease your cockhead on my clit, but a sharpness shoots up from underneath. It’s too sensitive. I shouldn’t have done that.

So I spin you around—pretty easy to manipulate a guy when you have him cockfirst—until your back is flat against the wall.

One hand with a massaging, kneading grip, a thumb underneath the tip, the other hand massages your balls. Then we really start. This is where I have to take advantage of every advantage I have, because I know how much you jerk off with your own hands. My stiff nipples rub up against your chest, tickling you and moving vertically much like my fingers around your cock. Sometimes, I have both hands around the whole thing and you jerk your hips to pretend like my hands are my pussy. But they aren’t, so I give my whole eye contact—much easier to do when you aren’t filling me and substituting my brain with dick—as I spin and rotate and circle my thumb around your tip. A little more spit, a little more pre-cum and I have the texture to really make that dick shine.

Signals for your orgasm are clear to me. A higher moan from the top of your mouth and nose, I guess when you lose footing and slip that’s pretty obvious, but there’s also your eye contact shakier than usual, and your hands that grab onto whatever they can. Of course, even in the heady prelude to your climax, you still reach for my ass. It doesn’t matter where you grab on though.

When you cum, I almost have to hold you up by the cock. It’s like those spurts contain all your strength. You leave your own body, one arm around me, one hand behind you on the wall. Your words falter to primal noises too. It’s hypnotic, every streak that flies in there, the twinge and tingles and swells of your shaft as it sends those streaks and you release your sticky self onto my tummy.

“You’re the best,” you say breathily.

Your head reaches down to immediately kiss me while more of your cum drips past my tummy to the shower floor but I stop you. “Now what?” I ask.

“Hmm?”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“You know how quickly my energy comes back. Especially with a gorgeous girl in the shower in front of me.”

“Oh shut up.” I put my hand on your chin and squish your cheeks, thumb on the right, index on the left. But neither of us can stay silent, a little giggle from our lips. I watch yours, you look down at my mouth the same.

Asynchronous heartbeats louder than the shower.

There’s no reason for tension. We had sex last night, we just gave each other orgasms, yet somehow, the glance of our lips fluxes my heart, tells it to leap off its seat in my chest. Every single time. This is why our story sucks. We never tread any new ground. However, that selfsame lack of progress holds a richness of ecstasy. Prods turn to pressure, then turn to tongues so familiar with each other as to forgo all communication. I don’t need to tell you to let me breathe, or for you to tell me to stroke your hair. We both work in our kiss, to strive for more futile desperation than each other, to siphon a hair-raising buzz in a prurient loop, like the feedback of a microphone in front of a speaker. With the hope to come out on top, sparing gasps of air punctuate longer stretches of suction and tongue trips into the mouth. It’s slipshod, it’s overlong, it doesn’t matter.

I’d tell you to fuck me—what’s the point in talking when it’ll all be written anyway?

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Everyone else is waiting for some train to arrive. Love, dreams, that very ending for which they’ve spent decades planning. I’m on the other side of the station, feet as tired as my eyes that stare at my own train. When people look at me, I feel their glares, judgemental like mine. It’s because I’m watching a train yet to leave—no, it’s because that train is empty.

It’s a strange metaphor to be stuck on because I’ve already left. Living on my own wasn’t worth it, any of it. The money, the responsibility that turned into a hassle. I couldn’t have an apartment just for us to have a place to fuck. In the whole scheme of things, a four hour drive, an hour’s flight, that’s nothing.

Our circumstances brought us together, nothing more. What did we share other than kisses? Fluid? I know why you like me. Same reason I like you, we get physical gratification from each other. Makes us sound like machines, I know.

I appreciate that you only let circumstances pull us apart slowly. Every couple weeks, you take that long drive, then bring me back to your place just to fuck. Eight hours of round-trip driving. In a sense, that’s a level of trust from me and a level of commitment from you that I’m not sure couples have unless they’re married.

Thanks for being my friend.

It helps me not fall in love when your dick plunges in and out with the same timing as your smooches. You’re too good at this, but I know how practiced you are at this point. Faint moans travel up, echo back down the height of the hotel staircase. I told you to take the stairs with me, knowing full well your patience.

You leave enough of a mark on my chest, groping it clumsily underneath my shirt when you thrust up into me, and enough of a mark on the wall, at least that's how the force of those deep plunges feels. We run up the stairs and barely make our toes in the door before we make out again.

“Can I take a breather, Gyuri?”

"I needed one too to be honest."

"Oh thank god. I don't think I've been up that many steps in a while. At least not that fast."

"Yeah." I giggle. A mirror by the entrance. I wipe a bit of smudged lipstick off the corner of my mouth. My hair's disheveled. I'm all sweaty. "I need to—"

"Shower?"

After my nod, you give a knowing nod in return and I take a much quicker one than usual. I can hear your thoughts past the jet pressure of the shower, or at least your heavy breaths, the tapping of your feet. I know you well. You're weighing between taking a shower yourself and jumping my bones the moment I open the door. That choice makes my chest leap out of itself, I know myself much less assuredly.

You gave me a prologue, a synopsis of your hunger bending me over the railing before you took me against the wall.

I could dress myself again. Synapses burst.

Your jaw finds company with your restless feet when I walk out in a towel alone instead. I don't know if it's genuine anymore. We've had sex so many times. Yet here you are, sharpening your knife.

I am the conflict, I am the resolution. I don't know myself well, but do I like that?

You cut short my time to think with your hand grabbing mine, pulling me right in front of you as you sit on the edge of the bed. I stand with a new but old hesitation. It’s so embarrassing, especially when my towel slips and I’m before you nude while you at least have your dress pants on. You drink the sight of my body in. It’s not like I’ve done anything in particular for today, I’m the exact me you’ve slept with every time before, but you sit with anticipatory anxiety.

“What do you… do I just stand here?”

“I miss you Gyuri.”

“I’m right here.”

“You’re right here now,” you say before a sigh. Now with both hands holding each of mine, you bring me onto your lap and reflexively, my arms and legs wrap around your torso. Without prompt, I take in your muscles and strive to keep their texture in my memory. “I miss when this was a near daily thing.”

“But does that really mean you miss me?”

“What? Of course it does.” As I examine closer, the naivete in your pupils is genuine. I never doubted that, explicitly at least.

“Okay.” There’s nothing I could do but take you at face value anyway.

I start grinding.

You start kissing.

“You’re gonna leave a mark,” I say, leaving my own dark stains on your pants.

“I want to. I want to leave marks that’ll stay until we meet again.”

“What if we don’t?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, your tone soft as though you’ve never considered the possibility.

I gulp when your lips hold my neck deeper like you’re trying to get something out of it. “Never mind. That’s enough.” I slink down to my knees. Candles. I wish we had them right now. The warm, soft ceiling light isn’t the worst.

Not sure what compels me to give you the blowjob of your life. Foreshadowing, perhaps. I want this suction to haunt your dreams.

I want you to have a goddamn story about this.

I’ll give you the best blowjob of our lives combined.

This is my revenge, for every time you made my heart skip looking at me. I pull your jeans off then let my tongue fall out, missing your shaft when I lean in (a difficult feat with its length) and I lick your tummy instead, tickling you.

Your dick… Well, it looks like a dick. An ideal size for me to enjoy, a tantalizing bend. But it’s matte, as skin normally is. I only make the observation because I take the soft thing between my lips, and that first inch becomes glossy. Your eyes roll, and so does your head around your neck when I polish the next inch, tongue dragging side to side at that sensitive ridge under your tip. Then I pull back out.

“Gyuri, fuck. Stop teasing me.”

My tongue follows your vein up the side of your cock, but it’s not enough. It needs to shine in the light, it needs to lube up my throat, it needs to be fucking sloppy. Turns out a circle has an infinite number of sides. So I collect all the spit I can and at the sight of the strings and frothy slop on the head of your deck, your legs wriggle. But I know you can smell the desperation, the sweat and saliva. My tongue goes up, then back to the base of your shaft, and I rotate around until it’s even. Of course, nothing is perfect, so I get lost in this cycle until I’m bobbing down on your cock like I’ll find my reward at the bottom if I look hard enough.

I keep looking. The back of my throat engulfs and tightens around the head of your dick every time I gag, but my eyes close and I’m not really looking. I don’t need to anyway. My hands that explore your torso go from pinching your nipples and fondling your muscles to treating your balls like a plaything. Your fingers find repose in my hair but I give your dick no such calm. A gag in, then a gag out and each time your cock’s tip reaches my lips, I wrap it air tight once again.

Right before the throbbing takes you away—I can even feel the pulses in my mouth—you pull me by my hair, shocking me as I’m too caught up in the fellatio.

We both stand, you turn me around and spank my ass, then tease my pussy with your length. My lips are a bed for your shaft to give a few rubs. But this isn’t the way you want to take me.

Shove me face first onto the bed. We’re both carnally hungry, so you don’t even have to give my butt another smack for me to get on my knees. I’d say fuck me hard doggystyle, but you’re going to be thrusting so hard that I have my face down on the mattress anyway. The heat approaches my pussy from behind, you’re lining up, and then you insert.

“Hmmn,” you groan out. I probably make a similar sound but the mattress catches it in its softness. You’re anything but soft though, as you split me apart, as though this were the very first time. That’s the fascinating thing, every time we fuck it’s a special occasion. With every push forward which sends your cockhead into my needy cunt, I recoil back like it’s a law of motion.

One of your hands takes my hair, the other stops slapping my ass over and over to trace up my sides. I’m a little ticklish there, but I can’t laugh, all I can feel is a senseless high from the friction of your cock. That other hand goes up my arm and grabs it, pulling it back and turning my whole body into a lever. That angle you send your dick is so perfect, it’s so stimulating on my walls that the imagined heat in my head spreads out from my core.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna...”

You stop fucking me.

Sighs between gasps. “That’s not sexy you know—”

Flip me over onto my back then you pull a pillow underneath my head. Missionary. I can’t read your mind. I don’t know your intentions. But that was the very first thing you did, putting a pillow under my head before you made love to me, before that lovemaking turned quickly into animalistic ravaging. We’re probably going to be skipping that first step, aren’t we?

Your head obscures the hotel light. I don’t need any light at all, closing my eyes instead. Your lips pounce on mine, your tongue lunges inside, but your cock eases in with more dexterity.

This is almost real. Opening my eyes back up, I scan your face, needing answers. “Look at me,” I say. It’s the first time I have to remind you.

When you focus back on me, I realize, I don’t know. I don’t understand anything. This is almost real, almost as if you weren’t just a perfect character in my story.

In and out.

It’s that feeling of wholeness. Every word I want to say becomes replaced with a mote of lust in my spinning head.

I regret the decision, telling you to look me in the eyes. The emotions are too rampant. Back and forth, your dick goes. So do I.

“I love you. Gyuri, I love you. Please… Fuck, this can’t be it, this can’t, this...”

Tears fall in reply. You’re silent, I’m silent, and slick noises overtake our breaths as you speed up and I tempt you to speed up with my motions, making sure that I’m taking the full length of your cock.

“Hah, hah.” Your breaths are loud. “You know I haven’t had an orgasm for so long.” Good. Good. Change the topic.

“Not, nuuuh, not gonna last?” Tease you. I’ll just do that. Yeah. That’s it.

“Don’t care. Feels like I’ve been fucking you, for forever. Hmmh,” you say.

So we’re the same. This isn’t news to me. We’ve always connected on this physical level. “M-make forever into now.” That’s a new one. Does that even count as dirty talk? Why am I getting self-conscious? You're thrusting your soul into me. My dizzy head wanders, then flies—maybe I’m just trying to give that soul back—and I feel each throb clench your cock and each beat out of time takes seconds to pass the heat of pleasure throughout my core to the outreaches of my limbs.

Then, your end nears the same, because my cumming pussy is just too much. Through the blackness and visibility and cycles between which orgasm causes, you pull out, cum flies and covers my whole body. As much gets on my pussy as it does on my face, with a skillful line that etches my abs and cleavage.

Drag your cock up, covering it in your own cum, and you sit as delicately as you can on top of my chest. I clean your shaft enthusiastically, and after I lick you all up, I want it to be over, but you’ve never had a problem kissing me. Maybe that should be obvious, but it’s one of those changes of pace I’ve yet to become used to. Instincts tell me this unfamiliarity is good.

We both fall over on the hotel sheets, tired and sweaty. You help me clean up.

We cuddle.

We fall out of the cuddle when we sleep.

It’s all so fast for how slow it is.

I feel blank.

There’s no point in planning for an empty resolution. To spin a yarn is to lie, so when we lie together, we must lie to each other.

“We’ll always be friends.”

When you told me that long ago, I assumed the lie was in your discipline, that one day, you would confess your deeper emotions to me, that you didn’t just want me: you needed me. It turns out that lie was the same as when I say it now as we lie next to each other in this bed.

Hotel mattresses never feel right to sleep on.

The train leaves, lurching forward with huffs and puffs like its engine is steam-powered, with screeches of metal against metal that tires my ears.

Finally.

It might catch up to the real me.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

We are actors with no script.

I don't have one but I felt like I was living life reading one, until I moved back home. That shift was what I needed.

You never needed one, even if your words often sounded like you were fed your lines, like every sentence was a clever punchline (or an attempt at one) that your author wrote.

The scriptlessness is obvious: our story doesn’t have much of an ending. I guess it’s a bit amusing, I can remember your breakups just as well as I can remember my own. It’s always such a defining moment to break up with someone you’re dating. That’s not how it works with friends right? It’s not like I’ve ever broken up with my friends—I know some people that have, though they’re the overly dramatic exceptions—but that doesn’t mean I’ve kept every friendship since I was a baby. Miniscule strands in the end. I don’t mean to tear them apart, certainly neither do you. Right? Who means to untangle their rope? That’s why it’s a lot harder to remember the final time you talked to a friend.

“Hey Gyuri, remember those first few days we were really texting?” Sip on your latte as you scroll through your phone.

I mirror you, though I’m just tapping on my screen. That gets pretty mundane, so I watch the people pass by outside the cafe window. Glancing strings, deeply woven cords. All types of stories. Probably more interesting ones.

“Those turned sexual quickly.” You chuckle to yourself when your finger stops swiping down.

“Wait, do you still have those pictures saved?”

“Oh, I never saved them, it’s just in our chat, look.” You turn your screen towards me and my hands rush, nearly slamming the phone onto the table.

“Chill! We’re in public.” A sigh breathed between my lips. “Keep them, I don’t really care anyway.”

“I know, the mask. I wish I could see your smile in them.”

“You’re saying my tits aren’t good enough?”

You urgently shake your head. “No, no, not at all—”

“I’m kidding, jeez.”

“And that first time, you weren’t kidding about making a mess of your sheets.”

“Did you think I was?”

“I thought you were exaggerating a bit maybe, you know, for effect. But you really had my tongue and chin dripping.”

“You seemed thirsty enough.”

“Wow,” you say, drawing out the vowel. “Thanks.”

“Isn’t it funny how we always just end up talking about sex?” I ask. Funny isn’t the word I mean.

“True. We don’t really share much else to be honest.”

I realized that a while ago. Part of what makes friendships special is the blurriness of memory. It’s fine. I really don’t mind that we keep repeating the same moments. It all blends together and in that recounting of those moments, the warmth resurges. Not the same as the original experience but… good enough. Right?

“Besides. That’s everyone, right? When you distill it down,” you say.

Out the window, that couple, they’re probably talking about the bills they’re late on. The annoyed looks, that man with his hands up, a wallet in one of them, her hands on her sides. That’s not happy, is it? But it is a cord.

“Sure,” I say, my lips a little tighter.

“Then after all that texting, we finally saw each other in person and you were even prettier than I expected.”

“Pfft. Nice try. Too late for compliments now.”

“No, I’m serious. Barely made it out of the restaurant without our hands all over each other.” Yours scoots towards me on the table, like your index and middle fingers are two little legs that waddle over before they stop by my cup. “Finally, a smile again.”

“Didn’t even realize I wasn’t. No, those were great times.” I lower my voice. “You definitely made me cum the most I ever have that night.”

“Wait, so you were faking it the other times?”

“I dunno, those times kinda blur together. Doesn’t really matter how many, I always felt good no matter what.”

“Maybe after this we could, you know, feel good one last time.” You’re so sure it’s the last time too, but I’m not. Earphone cords used to get tangled in all kinds of funny ways. Most people don’t bother with wires anymore.

“That’s what the hotel was.”

“Oh…” Look down. “You’re busy?”

“I guess.” I shouldn’t have said it like that.

“So you’re leaving now?”

“No.”

“What do you have to do later?”

“Work.”

“Mmm.”

"So yeah." I put my hands on the table and stand up.

"Yeah." You mirror me.

I adjust my watch.

Run your hands through your hair.

It could've been my hands instead.

Maybe my hair.

This isn’t a good story.

But at least it’s a true one.

Right?

“And we’ll talk again?” one of us asks.

“I’d love to,” the other replies.

"Tell me. When you're in the city again."

"I will. Will you?"

“I will.”

Does it matter who says what?

We both know when we’re both lying.

Just as stories are deceits, so are the people in them. The yarn we spin is your smile; my finger that brushes your fingers; and our glances which promise one day, this mutual lie will evolve into truth somehow.

You walk away first. I hope you catch your train.

The cafe window becomes a mirror.

Or at least I hope you feel the same way about me as I do about you.

Because I will write my own story, pretend you never were but as the words I type down.

I hope I’m just another character in your story as well.

Neither Here Nor There ft. Karina, Winter

Now, the world turns serene.

This strange electric pang hits the heart of collective humanity. A fallen power line in a pool and all men shed a tear. All men would bawl if they knew you only learned their names halfway. Jimin. Minjeong. Jiminjeong?

And the halfwayness is so half-baked that you only half-grasp halfway as between somewhere and somewhere else: the bar and your apartment; the elevator and your front door; the full and empty glass bottle, its glassy liquid burning down to your stomach like molten silica dioxide.

They partake in a few. A third for one, a third for two, then a third for you. Must burn for them too. On your tip, two small red lips dab their hue. Neck deep, you feel a brilliant gray and see the same view. On your bedroom floor, black dresses match, one spotted and one strappy. On your cock, Jimin jiggles with a happy, lyrical bounce. Naturally, her breasts draw attention to themselves, free of tight fabric. She soars and settles back down on the base of your shaft, her grippy pussy doing its grippy thing.

Your neck hurts. Lying on the bed, you have to watch the sight unfold before you. It's watching fireworks at sunset, her tits and clingy folds both attention-seizing images. Her face too. She leapt straight out of manhwa then back into naughtier comics. Jimin becomes an archetypal perverted work of art—her eyes cross, tongue droops, cock splits her long lissom legs on either side of the bed. And her ass?

It's for Minjeong, submissive and on her knees, bowing for her object of worship: Jimin's tight delectable butthole. You only had a wet ring finger in there earlier, an ideal engagement, but Minjeong the lucky girl gets a whole tongue. A syzygy occurs when Jimin is at the peak of her bounce, her cunt around the head of your dick. Minjeong makes eye contact with you then presents her tongue which drips with slick from your shaft before she sends it back inside that addicting asshole.

Who's to say who's in charge? The moon should be responsible for the tides, but that’s just one interpretation. Earth keeps the water down and the water keeps itself together. Harmonic resonances of ins and outs, ups and downs, peaks and valleys of bliss synchronize naturally. "I need a taste of that right now," you command, but don't get it confused; you're at the whims of the seas.

Jimin and Minjeong both race to your mouth. You aren't done with Jimin's pussy though, so you smack her ass. The first strike is too playful, so you slap again with more force. “Wh-what’s wrong?” she asks, and you tell her to get back to her place on your cock. Instead of her previous cowgirl, she rides you reverse, flaunting that butt, your pale red handprint, and her asshole, winking and reminiscing Minjeong’s work.

Minjeong shows that work off, and you mostly detect the familiar tang of Jimin's pussy, though the subtlety of flavor is lost on less discerning chefs like yourself. Minjeong and you drool into each other's mouths with an aggressive kiss. Now it's all salty anyway. She scoots her adorable ass from the side to sitting on your tummy, her mouth never leaving yours.

Apace like a valve to your piston, Jimin fucks herself onto you until every image is a blur, until her lungs have no air to give. And at that limit, Jimin unsheathes your cock.

Slowing down, she and Minjeong form a mirror of sweaty bouncing asses, your dick as the plane of reflection. Her fingers rub her folds while her pert asscheeks push against Minjeong's to trap you in sinful pressure. Your shaft’s sole respite is when it pokes out between the two butts, and its cry is a shot of precum. You'd cry some primal growl or groan too, but Minjeong captures all of your vocalizations.

Jimin lets your dick breathe some more and gets on her knees by the foot of the bed, the same as Minjeong earlier. Her hands are little reprieve though: the slow massage on your balls isn't careful enough for how sensitive you are. Everything is sensitive. The LED clock is the sun, the crickets are stadium roars, and each finger is a prod into your soul whenever Minjeong digs into your back. She bucks her cheeks down until your cock moves forth on Jimin's pristine face. Minjeong smirks.

It is an unfounded smugness: Jimin's makeup is already ruined and Minjeong floods from a little friction.

Like waking up in the morning, like wasting time on your phone, it's all so natural, almost choreographed. Minjeong’s cunt is cozy despite the asphyxiating snugness. But it's so comfortable, you can't just lie down in your bed anymore, especially not as Jimin toys with herself on the floor.

"Up here," you say as you straighten your posture.

It's a tight fit, but they're tight women. Jimin finds a way to grind herself on your thighs while Minjeong locks you with her legs. You've never met the girl, but at any moment, your willpower could slip and you could end your night inside of her, then end your life as you know it becoming a father. Your mind only concerns itself with these intricacies for a flicker, then moves on because of the two girls that straddle you and use your body to orgasm.

After all, there's plenty of other places to cum. For example, two pretty faces. An intimidating beauty with sharp eyes and perfect proportions for cum to drip down and an adorable visage with a button puppy nose, soft peach mochi cheeks, and tiny lips that want to pout and pucker.

And who are you to deny what Minjeong wants? When she lifts herself off your dick, she exhales with a shiver, as though her nakedness is in the stark winter. One of Jimin’s eyebrows falls, but Minjeong replaces the confusion with a renewed lust when they kiss. Your erection doesn’t go down even if you’re just a chair for two strangers to make out on. The inevitable has never been so arousing; the idea that those sloppy mouths are going to do the exact same thing on your shaft. Then again, it’s not a covenant written in stone or words. It’s just a premonition, an inkling that fate was always going to conspire to turn your cock into the third member of some three-piece smooching band.

Between quivered moans and tongues tied, Minjeong says, “You’re such a good kisser.”

“Thanks,” Jimin says. “I’m wondering, do your lips taste better? Or his cock.” She shoots a concupiscent glare at you. Your dick throbs.

Wait.

Gray haziness becomes the planet Mars crashing down, lips like its ferrous regolith drowning your dick in spit, washing away its pre-cum. Premonitions are supernatural assumptions; this is a rotation in your mind. They already sucked your dick, or maybe all the cowgirl stuff happened before that. Close your eyes and focus.

But that’s the very thing.

Magicians are experts at showing one hand so translucently that you have to look at the other hand. However, that second hand hides no secrets either. That was all part of the trick, to ensure that you aren’t looking at the hole in the table. Alcohol is like a magician. You’ll pay for the show tomorrow morning with a splitting headache. Haphazard kisses around your cock and red herrings of tonight’s chronology make you unable to name the minute they started doing it. Even further than that, alcohol distracts you and makes you care about dumb things like continuity of consciouness when you're getting a double blowjob.

Minjeong continues her mouth’s assault, particularly focused on the leaky head of your dick, and Jimin starts twisting. Not only do her hands twist around Minjeong, exploring the irresistible lithe body, but she also twists her tongue. There is no single, tasting lick. At once, she endeavours to have your whole erection clean.

If she licked your whole body and slathered you in spit the same way, would you give up your showers? Steeped in constant pleasure, your mind can’t help but wander like this. Especially since Minjeong’s stopped kissing—oh no—and started sucking on your tip with the same desperation as a parched woman in a desert.

“Oh yes.” You groan and shut your eyes. It doesn’t last long, visual temptations abound.

Antarctica is a desert. It doesn’t get any rainfall. You shiver and your mind wanders these strange cold places again. Air conditioning blasts too high in the interrogation room where Minjeong and Jimin could be the good cop and the bad cop routine. “You’re fucked either way,” Jimin would say with her acerbic tongue. And after a moment to let the tension stew, Minjeong would dismiss the bad cop and say, “I can help you get out of this.” They would both leave, more heat would stew. Then the two female investigators would put their heads together for a solution. Then their lips, then their tongues.

They act as though they were always in love and always needed somewhere to release that tension. Whether they were best friends, sisters, or strangers, you neither know nor harbor a hunger to find out because your cock is in the way of their kiss regardless.

Jimin’s tongue slides around, right under your cock’s tip’s edge, and Minjeong stops trying so hard to get her prize from your sensitive slit, her lips verging downwards to receive Jimin.

They could be the master and apprentice. Certified, expert dick sucker and doe-eyed rookie. Jimin’s earlier skill with her fingers on your ballsack is no outlier. Her mouth sucks and licks up all of her own spit that drips down and gargles so deliciously on your swelling flesh that she must be the expert.

But Minjeong couldn’t possibly be the rookie. She backs up and starts her performance. The face Minjeong makes is too perfect, like her bashfulness is merely an act. She looks at your dick all curiously, almost cross-eyed. In a trance by the same hypnotic danger as a black mamba. She starts with an experimental lick. The tip of her tongue pokes out between her lips; it leaves a tiny wet spot of spit on your shaft. That short yet eager tongue makes a simple line up and along your length. And then, she stops. Right under the cockhead, her eyes flutter, as though she's asking whether she's doing this right, but soon she nods, paints a little more saliva, and answers her own question—yeah, I'm doing this right, this is it.

All she's said out loud is "Ahhhh."

A round of applause is almost appropriate for the adorable thing. But you haven’t cum yet.

Past all your inventions about these two people you’ve never met, they become equals with one gag, then Jimin’s eye twitches. Two gags—Minjeong spends a little longer—coughs up a whole dribble of saliva—Jimin again, she closes her eyes this time—breaks a barrier in the back of her mouth. It’s a shift—a satisfying click—and then a more satisfying sight of your dick giving her neck a prominence. Not to be outdone, Minjeong does the same. They fight and tussle, your dick whips left then right as it pops out of one mouth—finds its way to the other.

One breath, then two, but it’s back to one held long.

For all of Minjeong’s innocent enthusiasm, Jimin is the inexorable conductor to make your body sing. Minjeong watches in awe as Jimin’s gags become calculated maneuvers. Her throat milks your cock in each tightening choke to the same rhythm that her head bobs up and down. It’s slow, but it wins the race with steadiness. Your climax doesn’t come at you fast; there is no exponential growth to pierce some fragile ceiling. It’s that unwavering wavering of your every muscle and joint. Minjeong stops being a bystander and starts following her teacher in cleaning up the mess of spittle and pre-cum that Jimin inevitably lets slip past her mouth.

Then a gun rings in the distance.

Kilometers of photographic words of carnality too much for your susceptible senses to truly comprehend the pillows of lips which never end or the wild pressure and wet pleasure of gravity that shoots you into orbit and swirls your head like the spirits tonight and swirls your hormones so restlessly that you want it to stop but you don’t really and you can’t really because what you want doesn’t matter since it’s up to them to lead your exploding soul through the promised land past the impenetrable blackness before the ardent shout of exultation towards a duo of mellifluous seraphs who suck so thoroughly wantonly though it would’ve been just one as the other couldn’t wait in kingdom come to let the dumb king cum alone or to let the fallen seraphim exercise her kind's sin of sharp tongued greed for your bracing load yet somehow you descend further than that morning star ever has where damned be the heart you thump to bump to shake to release all that sticky and white half into a throat then you slip out to a gag of that gun half cocked while half goes into two mouths as though three halves turned whole when two holes become one with three people from the relentless viscous globs of spit and semen as they collect their tithe while you writhe like a bad fish flopped out of water on the stained bed on the next level on the floated clouds that patter and pepper and crash with thunder cracks without lightning flash because this will never end and nothing is promised but if the universe had to make a promise then it would tell you that this infinity was inevitable and the only thing that could be promised when everything is false as if a tree of lightbulbs instead of leaves leaves leaves when it shouldn’t have and it stings its galvanic sting at a short circuit in the series like muscles and nerve are resistors and wire, why’re you still here.

You don’t cry when that power line falls anyway.

“Fuck that was a lot of cum,” Jimin says. It comes out gurgled with the semen in her throat. The furrow in her features display a slight frustration—this cum should’ve all been mine.

“Hey, you good?” Minjeong asks you, cum coloring her lips white.

“Yeah, that was just intense.” But the answer goes in one ear, out the other as they’re off again in their own land, kissing, this time with your load as a further distraction. They swap back and forth, dilute it with spit while still keeping its sticky slovenly essence.

It’s in that very act that your cock doesn’t lose an inch, even with all the semen you provide, even if your balls should shrivel up and beg for rest. When Jimin and Minjeong beg with their eyes and a string of cum between their lips, your body is not as interested in worldly limitations.

They both get on their hands and knees on the bed. Minjeong backs up, makes sure her ass sticks out just right, while Jimin wiggles and stretches her toes and feet. At a crossroads, unsure about whether to turn left or right, you ignore the stop sign and go straight, bringing each hand to their pink folds.

Under closer examination, you make note of the differences. Minjeong is a rough, slippery thing. A simple circle of your thumb around her lips is swallowed up by her pussy quickly with one false move. It’s quicksand; you could be stuck forever in that hole. With Jimin’s cunt, you really have to unearth it, an innie you have to spread apart to get a full feel of her flower.

Alternating between the two, the decision isn’t that important because you’re in paradise either way. But it’s so unimportant, you’re in the middle of fucking Jimin, pulling her long hair and bringing her head up so that you could see a sliver of her eyes as they roll over in ecstasy—and you don’t even know when you started doing it, if she’s the one you started with.

Again, the alcohol plays tricks on you. It does not matter. Pound and plunge. While your one hand twirls dark hair, the other tries not to fall into a dripping snare and rubs Minjeong’s clit with the same vigor that you give Jimin.

Jimin whimpers, moans and mewls. A high-pitched whiny noise and it brings you out of this world as much as her tightness does. Now you have two pets, or at least slutty kinky girls who play the part. A coquettish kitten who pounces on you when you find her in heat, now she wraps your shaft in silken cream with each shove of her ass backwards. She purrs and lets her head fall to the bed while her cat-curious hands reach back and search for her little death in orgasm. Meanwhile, your puppy feels lonely. Clingy little things, they feel time pass much faster—besides, Jimin’s already playing with herself and gets to have your cock filling her up—so when Minjeong whines and weeps for some attention, you give it to her. One smack. Two. Bad puppy.

You’re a bad owner, because you reward bad behavior. Leave Jimin and dip your cock in Minjeong. Her desperate cunt holds your shaft for dear life and you fuck her in the doggystyle she pleads for. Paws scratch and dig at the sheets.

“Tsk. Bad girl.”

And so you dip again into Minjeong. Sometimes it’s minutes of the same pistoning position, sometimes you give one prod to the left, one shove into the right, a brand-new concoction mixed on your cock, stirred by loud and wet sounds. Of all the drinks to inebriate you…

Every voice, already tired and low, becomes muddled by the sploshing whenever your hips hit their ass at your deepest point. Weak, they stop bothering with the animalistic hands and knees position, both lying prone on the bed. You continue your short dunks of your tip, longer dives of your cock for a single ripple of flesh.

Memories resurface, the pictures of every girl you never asked out with fear of rejection. You imagine having been classmates with either one of these girls. You could see Jimin as the president of some haughty club with all the popular girls, Minjeong, a shy quirky girl who sits next to you in the lecture hall but is just as out of your league. Your cock finds the best angles to stimulate them—the full length into Jimin while your Minjeong-lubed finger teases Jimin's dark ring further, the tip taking shallow baptisms into Minjeong to provide as much friction as possible.

Those fears seem so unfounded now. More earthly realities pull you back in. You figure they’re tired, but when you stop for a breath, you hear protests.

“Keep going.”

“Please, I wanna cum, let me cum on your cock.”

“Not… enough…”

“Fuck me. Fuck me, fuck, ff… fu—”

You pluck one of them out. It takes too long for you to realize it’s Jimin, a choice you made at random. The length of the night must be getting to you as well, even as you sober up in exercise. Though Jimin rests her head on your shoulder when you pick her up, she gives a smile and a nod, setting her feet down on the ground. The two of you stand. Even if you have inches on her height, she glances up in a way that makes her seem as face-to-face as possible. You kiss her, and two of you become a pinball around the room. Eventually, Jimin ends up on the wall. A few thrusts between her thighs smother the upside of your shaft with her pussy, but it’s so late in the night, everyone on some crumbling edge, there isn’t a point to foreplay. Insert.

You bring all your strength to your core, down to your loins, so that every journey of your cock inside her walls travels up into her womb, so that she feels vividly the wall behind her. Up, and up, and up, the flesh on flesh on wallpaper reverberates throughout the room.

It catches the attention of a crawling puppy.

At first Minjeong kisses you at your heels, nips at it. She was lonely before, but now she’s mad. Her master abandoned her, threw her away for another pet. It’s funny, any semblance of roleplay is gone from you and Jimin’s minds. All you’re thinking about is cum, her cum, your cum, any cum is welcome while everything else is deleted. It’s that focused force, the relentless rhythm that makes Jimin’s eyes gloss over. Minjeong kneels beneath the two of you, and her exploratory tongue licks every so often between your shaft and Jimin’s gripped lips. Yet you worry for naught but Jimin’s walls which constrict and tremble around your dick to an accelerating beat. Therefore, to expedite the process, your mouth takes in Jimin’s svelte neck.

With enough lip suction to leave a world map of purple on her tender flesh, you overload Jimin's nerves. For the many motions to tantalize her erogenous zones, your two hands clasp into hers and the subtle grip becomes a grip unto her whole body. She cries out, "Fuuck! Cumming!" as though some hold on her lung is released. But what surprises you and Minjeong the most is the dam that breaks and outflows a clear liquid that wets your crotch while it almost drowns Minjeong on land. You do not abate your thrusts into Jimin’s pussy to ensure that her orgasm and subsequent squirting lasts forever. Minjeong does a good job of keeping up, even as she has to close her eyes and hold her breath to continue lapping up Jimin’s wetness.

Slacken the pace as Jimin locks her legs around you. Despite the slowed rhythm, avarice still has you fucking her spent pussy while you carry her to the bed. It takes a final, covetous plop to unwrap her from you. Cream drips with clearer fluids on your shaft. Jimin shuts her eyes and unwinds the last bit of tension in her body while Minjeong looks up at you with doe eyes.

“C-can you carry me like that too?”

“Of course.”

You count three blinks; that’s the time you keep your gentleness as you park Minjeong’s feet on your shoulders, her cunt all over your cock. When you open your eyes that last time, you’re ramming Minjeong into the wall with even more force than Jimin. Maybe those flowers might fall from the bedside. You have enough sweetness in Minjeong’s sweat and musk. Any coyness in her voice is soon replaced with a singer’s laments, impressive moans and whimpers, almost as impressive as Jimin sleeping through the ordeal.

As a cramp begins to exhaust your legs, you bring Minjeong to the mattress, then drop her. A quick nod from her, and you shove your hips. Again, her legs are up, but this time with her back on a cushioned surface, you can use every last mote of stamina to honor the name of the mating press.

In this fervor of plunges, groans, and sweat drenching your sheets, Jimin’s eyelids widen. She frowns a bit but she gets up and approaches from behind the two of you. Look back, and you find Jimin enthralled by the way you manage to drive into Minjeong. Jimin approaches, her inquisitive hand feeling your balls, your ass and Minjeong’s, and you realize she is an omen.

While she nears, pulsations and flocks of rhapsody looms as well. “Fucking, cum, inside you,” you murmur.

“P-please.” Minjeong’s puppy eyes. That’s all you need.

Your cock pulsates. Faster. faster, more, because this is the finality, the second or third but certainly final finality. Make this one count. Make Minjeong’s petite tits red with your slaps, make her toes curl, make her mouth sing your name with the profane before you bend down and take that mouth into yours.

Then close your eyes.

You’ve never met Minjeong before tonight, but you fuck her like you miss her, like it’s your first time, your last, and your only. The systemic collapse starts with a spark in your loins, soaked and pressed and pumped by Minjeong’s tightness. From there, the spark spreads out, and your legs shake, and your arms grab her tight as your kiss. It ends in your brain, but it stays and ricochets around in your skull, with bursts that recreate every fantasy in one burst. Her mouth slips from yours, trails up your cheek, kisses and sucks on your ear.

This is how you cum.

Cum again?

Cry in striations and fly high in lightning and dine on chimeric beasts of lust and temptation with a climax, like you die alone then revive in elation lest exhalation is last and everlasting until gasps exact passing your passing and pressing and throttling your cock with the walls of pink satin which patinas its passion and rising in paschal passion not passive at all but impossibly active so past any practical action your past axed and nixed and null and void and toyed with fingers in prickles and blistering skin which ripples, and bask in the limelight and the sour and sweet of it all as a musk and pulse and skip and impulse that skips your better thoughts for letters which spell out that you will breed and you will pump until the brim and even more as you pervade and permeate her very skin which wraps as taut as unyielding as her hole as renitant as a vice that suffices to clasp and clutch and couple and feed on your shaft that begs and begs and pleads and sends the moon down to earth to your heart which swears it’ll give out but the profane cannot supplant nor sunder the pure of heart or the promise of very time that led to this one moment and swore first those words so foul that at least one will make it through for the sacrifice of everyone left behind, sperm the first hero’s journey, as instincts curse your instincts instruct the distinct instincts to shut the fuck up and sink into the sinkhole while the quiet watches in replete awe as you keep cumming inside of her to forget the morning to forget the next day or the next year or the next moment in time inevitable for indelible white coats her intelligible inside and outside blubbering and kissing and ignoring the air that she needs to breathe because everything she needs is inside and she needs it outside and needs it inside until every repetition of glory can’t fill up an essay word count limit but that still is insufficient to describe the indescribable despite every attempt so why try and just say cum and tight and throb and tight and wet and cum and load and warm and creamy cum coating pussy coating cock but end. Exeunt you.

“That looks delicious,” Jimin says, eyes fixed.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank...” Minjeong’s voice becomes so small as she fucks herself onto you for all of your drops of semen.

Your balls shift in every thrust, your tumescent cock gushes and overflows Minjeong’s pussy until it’s milky and filled, until your erection is but an echo of what once was even a minute ago, unstiffening and retreating almost on its own out of her hole. Take your break on the side of the bed and watch as Jimin pounces.

She eats the cum out of Minjeong’s sore hole, the same way she sucked it straight out of your cock, and makes no show of swilling down the whole load because she doesn’t need to. There isn’t much of a threat of wasted cum on the sheets since Minjeong’s legs have Jimin’s head in a bind.

The winding down only lasts for two seconds like a couple paragraphs read fast. It’s a deflating balloon. With your head in a different kind of bind, you let sleep win.

You’re not sure if they’ve even put on clothes, brushed their teeth, or drank a glass of water. The good cop, the bad cop, the master, the apprentice, the kitty, the puppy—when you wake up, the girls leave the same trace as those contrivances in your brain, aching as you feel each pump send blood back down.

Well Deserved (Yeojin)

The moon scrapes by with a snug fit between skyscrapers, like cars in confined streets, and light nearly fails to fall where you stand, especially with the clouds occluding once in a while. Though the concrete wall is doing much more work than your legs right now to keep you bipedal.

Your voice takes time to form between heavy grunts, and when you finally say, “Yeojin, please,” you’re unsure about its intelligibility. A testament to the absorption of your senses towards the petite woman wrapped around your cock, legs around your waist.

“What, daddy?” Yeojin has a sultry throatiness in her voice. Half of it comes from some slim manifestation of her fatigue, half from the semen that her throat is still processing with gulps between her high moans. “Can’t handle this pussy?”

“I’ve already… fuck, cum, like—ahh, three times and you’re still riding me.” The first time was in the dressing room. Wasn’t even a question, with Yeojin in that latex outfit whispering about her need for daddy’s cum. She got it easily—even if the room was cramped, and the floor was hard, she just had to get on her hands and knees. Then with the simple help of her small hands, curious fingers, and adorable pouty face, she drained days worth of whatever was pent-up in your balls. Her black clothes were flecked all white, her cheeks, neck, and cute little tits stained the same. It was the parking lot for the second time, in the back seat of the car when Yeojin jumped up and down on your cock. Ribbit. However, you wouldn’t say that most frogs are heavy enough to shake a two-ton hunk of metal. And this time, not a drop wasted on something as fleeting as clothes; you released your tadpoles until her walls were sticky, warm, and full. Finally, as you resumed your drive, she put that talkative mouth to good use until you exploded. Bad use: you shouldn’t be getting sucked off while driving, and definitely should not be cumming, eyes closed, body out of your control for a brief flash. Her lips dripped with many things, regret not one of them.

You managed to make it to this alley regardless, your compact Hyundai the only thing between your blatant fucking and the nighttime pedestrians passing by, and right now you’re still managing to keep up with Yeojin’s vivaciousness, though only by pure hormones. “Your dick is still hard though.”

And sure, it’s still hard, but it’s sore enough that even half of each bounce elicits the loudest groans from you.

Yeojin fits in your pocket, and she’s a cum pocket too, yet no amount of her cunt’s grip force can hold in the oceans of semen you’ve poured into her womb. Those bounces have more and more of your cum slip past Yeojin’s slit, such that whenever she lifts her waist up, your own cream replaces her walls that coat your shaft. Easily, you could’ve peeled her body off of you, wrapped one arm around her waist, and flung her off. But it’s not about strength—the way that Yeojin puts two hands on your shoulders for leverage as she fucks herself onto you. It’s that you can’t imagine leaving as sublime a place as her tightness.

Your mouth loosens, fatigue is really setting in, and you’re barely even a person now, just limbs and dick with each part only half-there in the world. Yeojin gives a chaste peck on your cheek.

“This is what you get for all that teasing, you know?” She adds a lowness to her already rich tone and gets words out each time her pussy is hollowed out by your shaft; easy for her since your pace flags, and she’s the one in charge anyway. “Ahem. ‘Just imagine my dick is that big teddy bear you grind on every night. Need a lot of foreplay before it can be inside of you, but start with that. Cover it with your slick and you might feel snug around my cock.’ You’re so mean, daddy.”

“Guwh, fucking. I’m gonna…”

“Cum? That’s right, daddy. I’m gonna wear you down, mix my slick with your cum. That’s my revenge.”

Revenge takes your soul, your sight, your all senses. You’re on the ground, the cement, and Yeojin squats and pushes herself down. Even she’s feeling it now, as her hips have to work through the thickness, the splitting thickness of your dick, the cloying thickness of the fluids. When she drops her lips onto yours, quivering, you have to close your eyes. You have to close them because Yeojin’s interminable revenge ends you.

As you end with a fountain of semen (or more likely none at all) the rain begins. She plucks herself off of you before her mouth wraps around your raw, soft cock. “I’m just cleaning you up, daddy. Isn’t this nice?”

At that moment, you think about whether you can drown in a light shower.

The Best Flavor (Jennie)

Vanilla ice cream. Sweet and subtle and yet still underrated in the aromatic floralness of its essence as it hits your tongue and melts the same way that Jennie does under your robust fingers, a simple ticklish press into her sides, under her ribs. Usually on hot rainy evenings like this, she’s on the bed, a nice and soft mattress, but today, she wants to relax on the kitchen floor, bring out a blanket, chill. Her slack lazy posture, that’s fine. She’s comfortable eating straight out of the container with nothing but white socks and a white shirt on the white blanket underneath her, maybe a bit less comfortable with how you’re stealing licks of the cold dessert from her spoon.

“Noona, please, lemme have some. You know that’s the best flavor.” You give her your best pouty face, but she flicks the spoon at you, and a dollop of ice cream hits your nose. When you try to lick it off, she grabs your face.

“Of course it is. Dummy.” She pulls you until your face takes up her whole sight. The tip of her tongue sticks out, a bit more white. “Ahh.”

Take the hint and start with one light tap on her lips, a flick of your tongue. Though the creamy vanilla taste is tasty, you need more, so you suck her tongue. Any gentleness falls to the wayside as you try to devour her in your kiss, like you could get more of the ice cream if you just made out hard enough. By the time the two of you twist and embrace and her hands are around your neck, she’s on the floor, sticky with sweat and melted dessert alike.

Jennie takes a deep breath when you finally let her lips free. Her fingers on your neck, she looks just as ready to take you back in again. But you can’t ignore her bare legs, the ice-cream soft thighs that are only centimeters away from your crotch which strains against your pants. “Fuck. You want some more?”

When you nod your head, of course, Jennie pushes you back then spreads her legs. Once more, she flicks the spoon of ice cream, but this time the cold cream falls on her thighs and bare pussy; it gives her chills, makes her legs shift and shiver. You know what to do, you can hear her say in that smirk and those eyes that look down on you.

Shift down, your lips stay a bit long on her neck so you can hear the groans, but further along, you can feel her nipples firm through the shirt. Once more, you stay longer to savor the nubs, long enough for the mess of ice cream around her crotch to melt. Pulling up the t-shirt, your tongue flits and twirls a couple more times around each breast—she’s had enough of your teasing, so she runs her fingers through your hair to let you know. One long trail of saliva down her tummy, past her belly button. Then after you clean up all the now-liquid dessert from her thighs, a few swipes of the tongue here, a bit of suction there, you find your mouth on the true delicacy. Half-sticky with vanilla cream, half-wet from every light kiss you gave her clit. She moans at a certain spot, a certain roughness of your tongue, a surprise of your mouth between her folds. You repeat the same motions of your lips against her cunt, and every time, her feet dig into your back more, legs wrap tighter, and you focus on keeping that blissful rhythm. Already, she’s shaking.

“Actually, I take it back,” you say when you pause for a breath, for a moment to cherish the savoriness of her essence. “This wetness is the best flavor.”

Glance up, Jennie has her wrist on her mouth. You grab that hand; you want to listen to her every pleasure. You lick and lick, your tongue deeper in her clingy hole. Her finger wanders back to her lips—she always needs something in her mouth, it seems, or else she’d be drooling all over the place. In fact, there’s a puddle of saliva pooling on her cleavage. You take some of it with your hands and add the taste to the mix, your fingers joining your tongue. Push and thrust and flick and suck on her clit and do not relent—she’s almost sobbing in happiness now. You close your eyes and listen until the sung delight reaches a high note. One last tight clasp of her legs around your neck.

“Just like that, just like that, babe. I’m cumming! Mnghh!”

There’s nothing in your head except for Jennie’s thigh embrace, her loud moans, her addicting musk as she explodes and leaks new, more delicious flavors for your mouth to enjoy. You don’t even get a chance to breathe, but why bother with something as useless as air when there’s her perfect throbbing pussy to take in anyway?

Slowly, the tension in her body thaws like ice cream left out for too long; finally you can breathe. Wipe sweat off your brow the same way you wipe Jennie’s fluids from your mouth. “It’s getting so hot. Ugh, don’t wanna go all the way to the thermostat.”

Jennie, still reeling with faint thrumming in her body, relaxes before she flips over on her hands and knees. “I have an idea.” She looks back with a wry grin and paws her way across the kitchen. With a sashay of her ass and thighs, she crawls to the fridge, shows off the pussy you just cum, how ready it is to eat up bigger things than tongues and fingers. When she gets up to open the fridge door, she sighs in pleasure.

“Isn’t this a waste of electricity?”

“Isn’t this a waste of time? Get over here and bend me over right now.”

What Jennie says, goes. It was barely a seduction to have you as her own: it was just one question back then. Now, when she turns her head and nods in approval at the way your length lines up with her slit, there isn’t even time for questions anymore.

Questions like “Don’t you have work tomorrow?”; questions like when to use protection and when it’s a safe day for her; questions like if she’s comfortable with the way you shove her head into the fridge, right next to the celery and lettuce and beer—all of these get pushed to the side, thrown away like her shirt to the corner. You press your cock-tip, and her pussy lips work their way open, plenty slippery enough but still a snug fit for your dick to endure.

“F-fuck, noona. I just want to fuck you all day.”

Jennie growls softly and puts her hands behind her back. “Just fuck me now.”

Once inside and fully enveloped by her loving walls, you take her wrists as requested. No more time for savoring. The chilly air of the refrigerator gives you a newfound verve, and you’re thrusting and ramming into her pussy, one hand to pin her arms on her back, the other to pin her head into the fridge shelf, all to get the best angle and pound her with as much force as possible. Faint echoes of her ass clapping against your crotch. “It’s so… so cold, yet your pussy is so warm.”

Despite the frigidity, more beads of sweat drip down Jennie’s back. “Ngh, ngh, ngh! I’m still—ah, sensitive.” Her breath shivers and shakes; your nerves do the same, pressure swelling. “From your mouth, on me. Still so warm too.”

“I’m already gonna cum, fuck, your pussy, it’s too good.” You push on through anyway, now with bundles of Jennie’s hair in your grip.

“Thank you, thank you, I just want your cum so bad.”

“As bad as ice cream?”

“Even more.”

Give her a few more pistoning cycles, slower and slower surges of your hips’ motion to match the rising heat, bringing you back to the room’s warm temperature. “Then get on your knees.”

She throws her ass back a few more times which almost coaxes your end prematurely, but it’s a signal for you to free yourself from her hold, your cock bright and slick in the low light. Jennie closes the fridge door, kneels, sits on her feet, and leans back against the door. Eyes fluttering, she sticks her lip out when you start jerking off with your cock in front of her face.

“Are you sure you just want to cum on my face?”

“It’d look so pretty, though.”

She smiles, though she shakes her head as well. “Nom.” It’s adorable how her eyes flip up and down, looking at your face, looking at your tip between her lips. “This cum is going dahn mah mow—” Jennie’s cock-slurred words are interrupted by a gag—your brain is interrupted too, like an unexpected hailstorm in the summer, and when you freeze as her throat holds on tight, you release your own buckets of cream. Body melts, you melt, everything melts, you’re liquid and you could fall if not for Jennie’s lips so diligent in milking your dick for every drop that you have. In other situations, you would be the one in control, thrusting into her face to give her the load, but right now, you’re ice. Long breaths and shut eyes aren’t enough to stop the dizzying warmth to push past.

Even as you grow limp, Jennie keeps on sucking. Look down, and she’s as devilish as ever, almost a smirk on her stained lips. She swishes the cum around in her mouth, puffed up cheeks. You back off after the final heat trails off your body. “No—” she swallows down with a gulp “ —this is the best flavor.”

You let her know she did a good job, pat her head, stroke her hair.

“Mmm. You’re such a sweetheart babe, ahh,” she says with her tongue out to show off. As she returns to the blanket to lie back down, you join her. She uses your arm as a pillow, snuggles up to you, and sighs through her panting. “I guess we’re never going to agree on the best flavor.”

You give Jennie a kiss on the forehead, and confused, she tilts her head when you push her off your arm. “But we can agree on turning down the temperature, right?”

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Disgusting. Why did I waste time writing something this fluffy. It’s nothing special, but that’s how it goes sometimes when you write in a BFH.