Sgooners

Her name was currently sitting in second place.

For the average college student, a volunteer drive for a community organization was just a bullet point to pad a resume. But Jihyo wasn’t average. She didn't enter competitions to place; she entered them to dominate. This afternoon, the regional council had upped the stakes entirely, sending out an emergency broadcast to all members: the scout who brought in the single highest sales volume by midnight would be granted an immediate rank promotion to regional coordinator, alongside a fully sponsored, two-week luxury vacation to a tropical resort.

Jihyo could already feel the cool ocean breeze and taste the cocktails, but a rival scout from the neighboring chapter was currently fifty boxes ahead of her, stubbornly holding the top spot.

Her fierce, unyielding competitive streak didn’t just flame; it roared into an absolute wildfire. She looked down at her inventory. The wagon was loaded to the brim with premium, organization-branded goods: artisanal cookie boxes, heavy containers of organic rolled-oat cereal, and glass bottles of fresh, chilled whole milk from the valley dairy drive.

Traditional door-to-door pitches, polite smiles, and asking for neighborly charity weren't going to bridge a fifty-box deficit in a single evening. If she wanted that tropical beach, she needed a radical, completely unorthodox strategy.

Stopping under the shade of a large oak tree on the sidewalk, Jihyo took a deep breath and smoothed down her uniform. The pleated green skirt was already tailored a little shorter than regulation, hugging the tight curve of her thighs. With a steady hand and a calculating smile, she reached up and deliberately unbuttoned the top two buttons of her crisp white collared shirt. She shrugged the fabric back slightly, exposing the smooth, sun-kissed line of her collarbone and the soft, inviting swell of her breasts.

She knew exactly what her most devastating, darkest secret asset was: she possessed an intoxicating, magnetic allure that men found impossible to resist, and she was entirely prepared to weaponize it.

Her eyes swept across the manicured lawns of the cul-de-sac, landing directly on your well-maintained two-story home. Just moments prior, she had watched from a distance as a woman—your wife—loaded a large rolling suitcase into the trunk of her car, exchanged a brief wave toward the front door, and drove away out of the neighborhood. Jihyo glanced toward your driveway. Your sedan was still parked under the carport.

You were home. Completely alone.

Jihyo’s lips curled into a sharp, victorious smile as her resolve hardened. She gripped the wagon handle and began wheeling her heavy cargo up your concrete driveway, ready to present an offer that no red-blooded man could ever turn down.

Inside the house, you let out a heavy, exhausted sigh, rubbing the stiff muscles at the back of your neck. Your wife had just left for a three-day weekend professional conference out of town, and she had left you with a dauntingly long list of household chores, grocery runs, and repair tasks to tackle in her absence. The quiet of the house was almost absolute, broken only by the low hum of the air conditioning.

Suddenly, the sharp chime of the front doorbell echoed through the entryway.

Groaning slightly, you stood up from the couch and made your way to the foyer. You weren't expecting any deliveries, and you certainly weren't in the mood for neighborhood small talk. You unlocked the deadbolt and swung the heavy wooden door open, expecting a mail carrier.

Instead, your eyes locked onto a stunning, ethereal college student standing on your welcome mat. She was breathtaking. She had a bright, dazzling smile, large, expressive eyes that seemed to read you instantly, and a green scout sash draped diagonally across a uniform that was doing absolutely nothing to hide her incredible busty figure.

"Hi there! Good afternoon," Jihyo said, her voice dropping into a sweet, perfectly practiced, melodic rhythm. "I'm Jihyo, and I'm representing the local college scout chapter. We're running our final annual drive to fund our youth community projects. Would you be interested in supporting our cause today?"

You leaned your forearm against the edge of the doorframe, offering her a polite but tired smile, trying your best to keep your eyes firmly on her face rather than the deep, distracting plunge of her unbuttoned shirt. "Oh, wow. Uniform and everything. Look, Jihyo, I appreciate the hustle and it's a great cause, but my wife usually handles all of our grocery shopping and pantry stocking. We're actually pretty set on snacks right now."

"I see," Jihyo murmured, her smile shifting from wholesome fundraiser to something far more predatory and intoxicating. She took a deliberate step forward, crossing your threshold and closing the distance between you until you could smell the faint scent of vanilla and sweat on her skin. The innocent scout demeanor completely evaporated, replaced by a heavy, unblinking gaze that locked tightly onto yours. "But you see, I offer a very special, highly exclusive tier of customer service for my premium buyers."

You blinked, your throat tightening as the atmosphere in the hallway suddenly shifted from a mundane neighborhood interaction to something thick with tension. "Customer service?"

Jihyo let her heavy clipboard rest against the curve of her hip, tilting her head to the side as she tracked your reaction. "I am an incredibly competitive girl. I absolutely must win this sales drive by tonight. And because I'm determined, I'm willing to make a very private bargain. A special menu, if you will… customized just for you, especially while your house is so nice and quiet."

Your breath hitched sharply in your chest. Your mind raced, suddenly acutely aware of the empty house behind you and the quiet street behind her. You looked past her shoulder toward the empty driveway, then back to the intense, burning desire radiating from the girl standing right in your doorway. "What kind of menu are we talking about?"

Jihyo leaned in even closer, her voice dropping to a sultry, confidential whisper that sent a violent shiver of anticipation straight down your spine.

"It's very simple," she purred, her eyes scanning your face. "Buy one box of our premium cookies, and I'll give you a blowjob right here on your knees in the hallway. Buy a box of our organic cereal, and you get to return the favor—oral sex for me, until I am completely satisfied. Buy a bottle of our fresh milk, and you get a chance to take your time, opening my shirt wide open to suck and play with my breasts. And if you decide to hoard the entire wagon? You get to keep me here, having sex with me as much as you can handle for the rest of the afternoon."

Your throat went completely dry, your heart hammering like a trapped bird against your ribs. It was utterly insane. It was a complete betrayal of your marital vows. But looking at Jihyo—the perfect, full curve of her pink lips, the way her short skirt hugged the flare of her hips, and the absolute, unadulterated confidence radiating from her—the temptation was a physical weight crushing your resolve. Your wife wouldn't be back until later in evening. The neighbors were indoors. No one would ever know.

"One box of cookies," you croaked, your voice thick and completely rough with sudden, undeniable arousal. "To start."

Jihyo’s smile widened into a beautiful, victorious grin. She had you hooked. "A wonderful choice, sir. That will be fifteen dollars."

You reached into your back pocket with trembling fingers, pulling out your wallet and throwing a twenty-dollar bill at her, not even caring about the change. Jihyo stepped fully into your house, reaching back to close the heavy wooden door with a solid, definitive click, effectively shutting out the rest of the world and locking the two of you in a private haven.

She set her clipboard down on your entryway table and unbuckled her scout sash, letting it slide carelessly to the hardwood floor. Without a single hint of hesitation or shyness, she dropped down onto her knees directly in front of you.

You stood transfixed, your breath shallow as Jihyo reached up with both hands, her warm, deft fingers undoing your belt buckle. She slipped the leather strap free, unbuttoned your pants, and lowered your zipper with agonizing slowness. The moment her fingers slipped inside your underwear and freed your fully hardened, aching cock into the cool air of the hallway, you let out a low, ragged groan, your hands instinctively hovering over her shoulders.

Jihyo looked up at you through her thick lashes, a playful, wicked spark of dominance in her eyes, before she leaned forward. Her warm lips parted, tasting the very tip of you first. She swirled her wet tongue slowly around the sensitive crown, listening to the way your thighs trembled under her touch. Then, with a smooth, deliberate motion, she slid her mouth all the way down your shaft.

The sensation was absolutely electric. She used one hand to firmly grip and caress the base of your length, pushing it deeper into her throat while her mouth worked with a rhythmic, suffocating heat. You gripped her shoulders tightly, your knuckles turning white as you stared down at this stunning college scout giving you the most incredible, intense oral pleasure you had ever experienced. She sucked tightly, bobbing her head in a steady rhythm, intentionally making wet, messy, uninhibited sounds that echoed loudly off the walls of your quiet hallway.

Just as you felt the intense pressure building in your lower stomach, reaching the absolute point of no return, Jihyo expertly and suddenly pulled back. She swiped a thumb across her glistening lower lip, looking up at your dazed, panting expression with a smug, beautiful smirk.

"That was just the appetizer," she purred smoothly, standing up and gracefully smoothing down the pleats of her green skirt. "What’s next on the menu?"

You were completely breathless, your chest heaving as your body screamed for the completion she had just cruelly denied you. You couldn't let her leave like this. "The cereal. And the milk. Both of them." "A very healthy breakfast choice," Jihyo teased, her voice dripping with playful mockery. "That will be twenty dollars."

You blindly reached for your wallet again, your hands shaking as you pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and tossed them onto the entryway table next to her clipboard.

Jihyo smiled, taking you firmly by the hand and leading you away from the front door, deeper into the privacy of your living room. Instead of heading for the couch, she walked straight over to your sturdy wooden dining table. With an agile, effortless movement, she hopped up onto the polished edge, pulling her green skirt all the way up to her waist.

Your eyes widened. She wasn't wearing traditional undergarments; instead, a tiny pair of sheer lace panties met your gaze, barely covering her soft, manicured center. She slid them slowly down the length of her long, toned legs, tossing them carelessly onto a nearby chair, before parting her thighs wide open for you.

"Your turn to please me," she whispered, her eyes dark with rising heat. You didn't need to be told twice. Driven by pure instinct, you dropped to your knees between her parted legs, burying your face directly into her dripping cunt.

Jihyo gasped sharply, her fingers immediately locking tightly into your hair as your tongue found her highly sensitive, swollen core. She tasted incredibly sweet, and she was already deeply slick with her own arousal. You stroked her with long, wet, purposeful laps of your tongue, listening to the breathless, high-pitched whimpers that began to escape her throat.

Her hips began to buck helplessly against your face as you accelerated the pace, your tongue mimicking the hard, localized friction she so desperately craved. Jihyo’s toes curled tightly, her inner thighs clamping around the sides of your head as a sudden, violently intense orgasm rocked through her entire body. She arched her back off the table, letting out a loud, completely uninhibited cry of pure pleasure that echoed off your high ceilings.

As her frantic breathing gradually began to slow, she looked down at you, her chest heaving heavily. With a sultry, inviting grin, she reached up to the remaining buttons of her white shirt, popping them open one by one until the fabric fell away, revealing a lace black bra. She reached between her breasts, unclipping the front clasp and letting her full, heavy, perky breasts swing free into the open air. Her nipples were completely taut, caramel, and flushed from the aftershocks of her climax.

"The milk," she reminded you, her voice a breathless, demanding whisper. “It’ll taste better with the cereal, you should try.”

You leaned up from your knees, wrapping your arms around her waist as you threw a handful of cereal oats to your mouth before you took one turgid, aching nipple entirely into your mouth. You sucked greedily, swirling your tongue hard around the sensitive, bumpy areola as you felt her milk filling your cereal-filled mouth while your free hands cupped, lifted, and heavily kneaded the soft, responsive flesh of her other breast spilling some of her sweet dairy in between your fingers.

"You're right, it's way more delicious." Jihyo whimpered loudly, leaning back on her hands on the table, completely surrendering to the sensation. She guided the back of your head, groaning deeply as you bit gently at the very tips of her nipples, sending frantic sparks of electricity straight back down to her core.

But you were reaching your absolute breaking point. You were fully erect, throbbing, and this agonizingly slow teasing was driving your mind into a frenzy. You pulled your mouth away from her breast, swallowed the breastmilked-flavored cereal before looking up at her with dark, primal, unchecked desire.

"The whole wagon," you said, your voice a raspy, commanding growl that left no room for negotiation. "Fuck it. I want every single thing you have brought. How much for everything?"

Jihyo’s eyes flashed with an absolute, dazzling spark of triumph. She had broken you completely; she had you exactly where she wanted you. "For the rest of the stock? A hundred dollars. And I’m entirely yours for the rest of the afternoon."

You didn't even hesitate for a microsecond. You stood up, walking over to the large decorative ceramic bowl on your kitchen counter where you always kept an emergency stash of household cash. You reached in and pulled out a thick, crisp stack of hundred-dollar bills. Marching back over to the dining table, you pressed the cold cash directly into her open palm.

Jihyo counted the five bills with lightning-fast precision, a genuine thrill of victory running down her spine. The competition was definitively hers. The rank was hers. The tropical vacation was hers.

She carelessly tossed the money onto the clipboard on the entryway table and turned back to you, wrapping her long legs tightly around your waist, pulling her slick, dripping core flush against your aching pants. "Then let's not waste another second."

You lifted her sexy, voluptuous frame up off the table with ease, carrying her over to your large, plush leather living room sofa. You laid her down against the cushions, hovering directly over her as you aligned your aching length with her heat. The moment you guided yourself in and pushed deep inside her, Jihyo let out a sharp, ragged gasp, her eyes widening at the sheer fullness of yourcock stretching her open.

The rest of the afternoon dissolved into a complete, chaotic blur of raw, sweaty heat and intense physical friction. You moved with a desperate, hungry, unbridled pace, fueled by the highly forbidden nature of the act and Jihyo's intoxicating, uninhibited energy.

Jihyo met you stroke for stroke, her manicured nails clawing desperate red lines down your back, her voice filling your empty, hollow house with loud, unvarnished moans of pure pleasure.

You changed positions frantically, pounding her in the center of the living room as both continuously search for deeper satisfaction. You flipped her over, sitting back as she climbed on top of you, controlling the depth, looking down at you like a dominant goddess claiming her rightful prize.

Then, you rolled her onto her hands and knees, driving into her heavily from behind, reaching forward to pull her hair gently to tilt her head back so you could help her watch her expressions and her tits being mashed by your other hand in the living room mirror.

The sofa was then fully occupied with your bodies stacked together, hers aligned in reverse to yours as you ate each other out for a classic 69, then Jihyo sat at your lap, plunging deep into her again as you bounced her rotated naked body onto your cock in reverse cowgirl.

You both rode the waves of intense, breathless pleasure over and over again, completely losing all track of time as the bright afternoon sun slowly dipped below the horizon, casting long, dramatic golden shadows across the room. Finally, with one last, desperate, deeply penetrating surge, you cried out at your last orgasm, your entire body seizing up as you collapsed against her damp back, completely filling here with your cum as you spent every last drop of your energy, thoroughly exhausted and deeply satisfied.

An hour later, the sharp click of your front door opening and shutting broke the silence of the house.

Jihyo stepped out onto your concrete front porch, looking completely immaculate and put together once more like as if nothing chaotic just happened. Her green uniform skirt was neatly straightened, her white shirt was perfectly buttoned up to the collar, her sash was aligned, and her long hair was tied back up into a neat, professional ponytail, although with some strand sticking out due to the aggressiveness of your tugging earlier.

The only difference now was the incredibly heavy envelope of cash tucked securely inside her scout canvas bag, and the completely empty plastic wagon sitting idly on your sidewalk.

Inside the house, you lay stretched out flat on your back across the sofa, thoroughly satisfied, physically drained, and staring blankly up at the ceiling with a lazy, content smile plastered across your face. You had a living room full of unwanted cookie boxes and organic cereal to frantically hide before your wife’s return in a few days, but in that exact moment, you didn't care in the slightest. It had been worth every single dollar in that bowl.

"Call me if you'd like to buy again. I'll be your personal retailer from now on. Thanks again for these, daddy." You pushed the contact card she gave you just before she left your household into your pocket.

Jihyo pulled her empty wagon down your concrete driveway, the plastic wheels clicking rhythmically and loudly against the seams. She pulled out her phone, checking the digital leaderboard one last time as she typed in her massive, newly acquired sales totals.

The graph updated instantaneously, shooting her name straight past her rival by an insurmountable margin, solidifying a dominant lead that no one could possibly hope to catch up to before the midnight deadline.

January 11, 2025 – 8:30 AM – Seoul

‎The remnants of breakfast lingered on the kitchen island—half-eaten plates of avocado toast and fresh fruit, the faint aroma of brewed coffee mingling with the citrus tang of Jennie's orange slices. We'd eaten in comfortable silence mostly, her foot hooked around my calf under the table, a subtle anchor after the intensity of her morning devotion. Kuma had begged for scraps at our feet, his paws tapping impatiently on the tile, but I'd shooed him off with a laugh, my hand never straying far from her thigh. The normalcy of it all grounded me, a brief respite from the storm of her schedule and my own restless mind. But the undercurrent hummed between us, that electric pull that always led us back to skin and sighs.

‎I cleared the plates with a quick rinse in the sink, the water rushing like white noise, while she scrolled through her phone, murmuring about the day's agenda—rehearsal notes from Allison, a quick check-in on the GDA outfits. "We should clean up," I said finally, drying my hands on a dish towel, my voice low and suggestive, eyes locking on hers until she set the phone down with a knowing smile. She nodded, slipping off the stool, her robe whispering against her legs as she led the way upstairs, hips swaying just enough to draw my gaze.

‎The master bathroom was our sanctuary, all sleek marble and diffused light from the skylight above, the air still carrying a hint of last night's steam. I twisted the faucet for the bathtub, the deep porcelain tub filling with a steady gush, steam rising in lazy curls. I added her favorite scent—jasmine and vanilla, a custom blend from that boutique in Gangnam she'd discovered during a rare free afternoon last year. The fragrance bloomed immediately, heady and enveloping, transforming the space into something intimate, almost sacred. I tested the water with my elbow—perfect, warm enough to melt away the chill of the morning air seeping through the windows.

‎Stripping off my boxers, I stepped in first, the water lapping at my calves, then thighs, as I sank down, the heat soaking into my muscles like a balm. My body relaxed against the curved back, legs stretching out, the surface rippling gently. "Come here," I called softly, watching the doorway, anticipation coiling low in my gut.

‎Jennie appeared, framed in the soft glow, her fingers at the tie of her satin robe. She undid it with deliberate slowness, the fabric parting like a secret revealed—first the dip of her collarbone, then the swell of her breasts, nipples already pebbling in the cooler air, down to the flat plane of her stomach and the dark thatch between her thighs. The robe pooled at her feet with a silken hush, and I cursed under my breath, "Fuck, Jennie," my voice rough, cock twitching back to life beneath the water. She grinned, that wicked curve of her lips that always undid me, stepping closer with unhurried grace.

‎She climbed in, the water sloshing as she settled between my legs, her back pressing flush against my chest, skin to skin in a way that felt like coming home. Her head fell back onto my shoulder, a contented sigh escaping her, her dark hair fanning out across my collarbone, dampening slightly from the steam. I wrapped my arms around her, lips brushing her temple in a tender kiss, my hands beginning their slow exploration—tracing the curve of her waist, the dip of her hips, thumbs circling lazy patterns on her abdomen. The water buoyed us, warm and weightless, her body yielding under my touch like she was made for it.

‎"Mmm," she purred, eyes fluttering shut, the sound vibrating through her back into me. My hands moved upward, cupping her breasts fully now, the weight of them heavy and perfect in my palms. I kneaded gently at first, fingers splaying wide, then focused on her nipples—hardened peaks that I rolled between forefinger and thumb, pinching just enough to elicit a sharp inhale from her. She arched slightly, a soft moan spilling out, "Ah... Nico," her voice breathy, laced with that vulnerability she only showed me.

‎Emboldened, my right hand trailed lower, skimming over her navel, dipping into the water to find her core. She was slick already—not just from the bath, but from her own arousal, her folds swollen and parting easily under my fingers. "Shit, baby," she cursed, hips bucking once, instinctively, as I circled her clit with a feather-light touch, the nub throbbing under my pad. Her legs widened without prompting, knees bending to hook over the tub's edge, water spilling over the rim in shallow waves, exposing her fully to the air and my gaze.

‎I chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling against her ear, my left hand still toying with her breast, keeping her on that edge. "So eager for me, aren't you? Spreading wide like a good little slut." The words came out possessive, laced with that dominance she craved, and she whimpered in response, her body trembling. I pressed harder on her clit, rubbing in tight circles, feeling it pulse, before sliding two fingers down and plunging them inside her—deep, unyielding, the wet squelch of her heat audible even over the lapping water.

‎"Fuck, baby!" she screamed, the sound raw and broken, her walls clenching around me immediately, hot and velvet-tight. I explored her slowly at first, curling my fingers to map her depths, the pads dragging along her inner walls until I found that spongy spot—the one that always made her unravel. I stroked it deliberately, pressing and rubbing, and her moans escalated, a cascade of "Oh god, yes... right there," her breath hitching with each pass.

‎Her right hand flailed for purchase, finding the edge of the tub, nails scraping the porcelain with a faint screech, while her left reached back, tugging at my nape, fingers digging in, scratching lightly down to my shoulder. The sting fueled me, a sharp contrast to the slick glide inside her. "Shit, Jennie," I growled hoarsely, my cock hardening fully against her lower back, trapped between us. "You're so fucking tight—gripping me like you never want me to leave."

‎The gentleness evaporated then, my thrusts turning rougher, fingers pumping faster, harder, the water churning around us with wet slaps, splashing against the sides. I was dominant by nature with her, especially like this—couldn't hold back the urge to claim, to degrade in that way that made her eyes glaze with need. "That's it, take my fingers like the needy whore you are," I murmured against her neck, nipping the skin there, my teeth grazing just hard enough to mark without bruising. "You love it when I fuck you rough, don't you? Begging for it without words, your pussy clenching like it's starving."

‎She did—god, she loved it, her body responding with fervent squeezes, moans turning to desperate groans, "Uhh, ugh, yes—harder!" Her hips rolled to meet my hand, the rhythm building, water overflowing now in rhythmic splashes, the tub creaking faintly under our movements. I added a third finger, stretching her, the quiet, slick sounds of her arousal lost in the water’s movement, her breaths uneven, chest rising against my arm.

‎"I'm—fuck, I'm cumming," she gasped suddenly, her head turning to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, sucking at the pulse point on my neck with a wet pop, teeth grazing in retaliation. Her walls fluttered wildly, tightening like a vice, and I felt the telltale quiver building to a peak.

‎But I pulled out abruptly, fingers withdrawing with a slick pop, denying her the release. She keened, a frustrated whine, "No—please, don't stop," her hand shooting down to grab my wrist, nails biting into my skin, trying to guide me back. Her eyes, when she twisted to look at me, were wild, pleading, that raw vulnerability cracking through her composure.

‎"Relax, Jen," I soothed, voice a low command as I kissed her neck, lips trailing fire along her throat, tasting the salt of her skin. My free hand caressed her thighs, soothing the tremble, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh. "Not yet. I decide when you come—remember that." The possession in my tone was unyielding, a reminder of the dynamic that bound us, her submission a gift she offered freely.

‎I shifted then, standing up in the tub, water cascading off my body in rivulets, my cock jutting out hard and insistent, foreskin pulled back from the earlier tease. She glanced back and up at me, confusion furrowing her brow, lips parted in question. "What's—?"

‎"I fucking want to pee," I said, smirking down at her, the words blunt and charged, reigniting that shared kink. Her eyes widened, then she laughed—a breathless, delighted sound that echoed off the tiles—before parting her lips, tongue extending flat and inviting, her gaze locked on mine with that mix of trust and thrill.

‎Gripping the base of my cock, I aimed carefully, the stream starting hot and steady against her waiting tongue. The relief washed over me, a deep moan rumbling from my chest—"Ahh, fuck, yes"—as I emptied my bladder, the warmth splashing into her mouth, some trickling down her chin to mix with the bathwater. She swallowed what she could, eyes never leaving mine, the act intimate and degrading in equal measure, her hand still on my thigh, squeezing in encouragement. "Good girl," I praised hoarsely, the last drops tapering off, shaking myself free before stepping back. "Swallow it all for me—you're mine, every filthy part."

‎She did, licking her lips with a shiver, the flush on her cheeks deepening. We rinsed off then, the showerhead hissing to life beside the tub, warm spray cascading over us as I soaped her body—possessive hands lingering on every curve, washing away the evidence but not the heat. Towels followed, soft and absorbent, as we dried in the steamy air, her skin glowing pink from the warmth.

‎9:15 AM – Seoul

‎We padded out of the bathroom, the heated floors warming our feet, into the adjoining dressing area—a spacious walk-in closet with mirrored vanities and soft lighting. Jennie moved to her vanity table, still nude, her body a tantalizing silhouette in the morning light filtering through the sheer curtains. She picked up her phone, thumbing through messages, typing a quick reply to Allison no doubt, her posture relaxed but focused, ass curving invitingly as she leaned slightly.

‎I couldn't resist. Closing the distance silently, I pressed against her from behind, my hands sliding over her hips, up her sides, cupping her breasts briefly before dipping to caress her ass—firm, smooth, mine. She startled softly, a gasp escaping, but didn't pull away, her typing faltering. "Babe..."

‎I pushed gently, bending her forward over the vanity, the wood cool against her elbows as she braced herself, phone clattering forgotten to the surface. She glanced back at me, eyes wide with confusion but darkening with anticipation, her body instinctively arching, presenting. "What are you—?"

‎"Teasing you," I murmured, my cock—still hard, aching—nudging between her thighs, the head brushing her slick folds without entering. She moaned low, "Mmm, please, i like that," dropping the phone fully now, screen lighting up ignored as her hands gripped the table's edge. I rocked forward, sliding along her slit, coating myself in her wetness, the tip catching her clit with each pass, drawing out breathy whimpers.

‎"Look at you, bent over like this, dripping for my cock," I growled, one hand fisting her hair lightly, tilting her head back to expose her neck, the other guiding myself. "Begging without words again—such a desperate slut for me." The humiliation laced my words, possessive and raw, and she shuddered, pushing back, "Yes... Baby, fuck me."

‎I didn't make her wait longer. Aligning the head, I slid inside her slowly—inch by torturous inch, her heat enveloping me like a glove, walls fluttering in welcome. "Fuck, so tight," I groaned, bottoming out with a wet slap of skin, her ass flush against my hips. She cried out, "Ahh—yes!" the vanity creaking under her grip as I held still for a beat, savoring the stretch, the way she clenched around me.

‎Then I moved—deep, controlled thrusts at first, building that rhythm, the mirror reflecting us: her parted lips, my focused gaze, bodies joined in stark relief. "You feel so good, Jennie—taking me like you were made for it," I rasped, hand sliding to her hip for leverage, the other still in her hair, pulling just enough to arch her. Her moans filled the room, messy and breathless—"Harder... ugh, yes, fuck me deeper,"—mingling with the slick sounds of our joining, skin meeting skin with rhythmic smacks.

‎I obliged, pace quickening, dominant now in full—thrusting harder, faster, the vanity protesting with faint squeaks, bottles rattling on the surface. "That's it, scream for me," I demanded, leaning over her, lips at her ear. "Let me hear how much you love being my fucktoy—mine to use whenever I want." She did, cries escalating, "Fuc—oh god, you fuck me so good"' her body trembling, chasing that denied peak from earlier.

‎The emotional underlayer hit me then—amid the raw possession, the way she trusted me with this, with her vulnerabilities born from years of scrutiny. The hate that had scarred her; here, in these moments, I reclaimed her, body and soul. 'You're so pretty like this," I praised between thrusts, voice softening just a fraction, "falling apart for me—only me." Her response was a sob of pleasure, walls tightening anew, and I felt my own release building, but I held back, determined to break her first.

‎We moved together, the dressing area echoing with our symphony—groans, moans, the wet glide of me inside her, the creak of wood under strain. Sweat beaded on our skin, the air thick with jasmine and sex, time blurring as I drove her higher, whispering degradations that only fueled her fire: "Come on, slut, milk my cock—show me how bad you need it." She shattered then, a keening wail, 'I'm cumming—fuck, baby!" her body convulsing, pulsing around me in waves that pulled me under too.

‎I followed with a guttural "Jennie, baby—shit," spilling deep inside her, hips stuttering as aftershocks rippled through us both. We stayed locked like that, breaths syncing, my arms wrapping around her waist to hold her close, forehead to her shoulder. "Mine," I whispered, the word a vow amid the haze.

‎9:45 AM – Seoul