#nfws

. ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ .

Mi humilde reacción🥰:

“So, my sister…” you tried to continue the anecdote, but the thought evaporated from your mind halfway through. You ended up staring at the ceiling with your mouth slack, while he watched you expectantly, eyes narrowed with laughter.

You burst into laughter again, letting your head fall over the edge of the armrest.

“Fuck… I forgot what I was going to say.”

Jake let out a loud laugh that echoed through the entire room, pulling your legs a little tighter against his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

“That’s the third time you’ve lost your train of thought in five minutes, Mrs. Sim,” he teased, dragging out the words with that smile you loved so much. “The wine definitely won.”

“I’m perfectly fine, Ikeu,” you shot back, giving him a clumsy little push with your foot against his side. “You’re the one who’s drunk. Just look at yourself—you’re smiling like an idiot.”

Jake caught your foot in mid-air and gave it a gentle tug, making you slide a few inches across the leather sofa. You let out a muffled squeal of laughter as you tried to grab onto the cushions.

“Hey!” you protested, trying to sit up. The effort only got you halfway upright, hair messy and a huge grin on your face. “What was that for?”

“You’re making fun of me for smiling like an idiot, but this is the same smile I always have when I look at you, my love,” he sighed, lazily stroking your calves with his thumbs, sleepy and affectionate. “So that doesn’t prove I’m drunk. It’s not the wine’s fault… I just like you too much.”

“God, Jake… don’t hit me with that out of nowhere,” you protested between giggles, covering your face with your hands to hide how your cheeks had completely flushed. “You know perfectly well you’re drunk. You’re just trying to deflect.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head, both amused and resigned.

“Well…” he said, stretching his neck and nodding his chin toward the billiard table at the far end of the room, softly lit by the low lamp. “Instead of continuing this verbal battle to prove who’s worse off, how about we settle it over there? Whoever wins the game proves they’re more sober and gets to ask the loser for one wish.”

You tilted your head, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you stared at him with that playful, flirtatious intensity you knew short-circuited his brain.

“Uh… so we’re betting now?” you provoked in a murmur. “I accept the game, as long as we lay all the cards on the table right from this moment. Care to tell me what’s going through that head of yours if you manage to beat me, Mr. Sim?”

Jake had to swallow hard under your gaze, shifting on the leather sofa as a competitive spark began to ignite in his eyes.

“And don’t even think about making me go first,” you added, raising an eyebrow with pure mischief. “You threw down the challenge, so you speak first. I’m listening.”

With that, you watched a slow, dangerously mischievous smile begin to form on his lips. He leaned toward you on the sofa, closing the distance until his breath brushed against your cheek.

“Alright, if you want it clear…” he whispered, resting his chin on your shoulder. “If I win, on the last night of this trip you’re going to have to dress up as Catwoman for me. We’ll go look for the costume tomorrow, so you might as well start getting used to the idea, Mrs. Sim.”

“You had that one saved up, didn’t you? You’re such a rascal…” you said, glancing at him sideways with narrowed eyes, but secretly fascinated by the proposal. “We haven’t even touched a cue stick and you’re already claiming victory.”

He shrugged, using two fingers to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear while his gaze dropped briefly to your lips.

“Can’t waste an opportunity like this, and I’m taking it for granted that I’m going to win,” he smiled with absolute confidence, giving your thigh a soft, possessive squeeze. “Now it’s your turn. If by some miracle in life you actually beat me… what are you going to ask for?”

You took a couple of seconds to process such boldness, letting out a low, incredulous laugh. You held his gaze without blinking.

“A miracle? How cute that you think you even stand a chance,” you said, sliding your hand along his arm until you cradled his neck, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse under your fingertips. “You’d better start mentally preparing, because when I win, you’re going to be my official masseur every single night for a whole month. No excuses… and, of course, with a happy ending guaranteed.”

Jake’s grip on your thigh became much firmer. His breath hitched for a second, stunned by the audacity and calm with which you had just delivered such a blow.

“Deal?” you challenged.

“Deal,” he answered in a low, husky voice.

The moment the word left his lips, he closed the distance and sealed the pact with a deep, hungry kiss, stealing a muffled sigh and a laugh against his mouth before they both stood up to begin the competition on the old billiard table.

They walked together to the wooden rack and each chose a cue. Without hesitation, Jake gave you the honor of the break, placing a hand on your waist to guide you to the head of the table.

“Ladies first,” he said with exaggerated courtesy, stepping back a couple of paces to fix his gaze on you. “Impress me.”

“How considerate…” you quipped with a lopsided smile, taking your time to chalk the tip of the cue. “Get ready to see how a real break is done.”

You leaned forward, shifting your weight onto one leg. Of course, as you bent so low to find the angle, your skirt tightened around your hips and rode up a few extra centimeters.

Behind you, Jake didn’t waste a second finding the best view—he didn’t even try to hide it. He rested his chin on the tip of his own cue, staring directly under your skirt, and let out a low whistle.

“Definitely… an impeccable stance,” he said, running his tongue over his lower lip. “Excellent grip, wonderful elevation… I tip my hat to you.”

“Sim Jaeyun, shut up—you’re not letting me concentrate,” you warned, shooting him a withering look over your shoulder.

“But I’m analyzing your shot, Mrs. Sim,” he defended himself, flashing an innocent smile that no one, least of all himself, believed. “Go on, go on. Show me what you’re made of.”

You took a deep breath, fixed your eyes on the white ball, and struck with all the determination in the world. The problem was you misjudged the distance—or the glasses of wine had taken their toll—because the tip of the cue sailed through the air just above the ball, barely grazing it before hitting the wood with a dry thud. The white ball only rolled a lazy couple of millimeters.

There was a second of absolute silence before Jake let out a choked laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as if trying—and failing—to contain it.

“Wait, wait…” he said, stepping forward. “Was that the master shot that was going to make me give you massages for a whole month?”

“It was a practice shot!” you jumped in immediately, stamping your foot lightly on the floor while trying to look serious. “I was measuring the weight of the ball and the firmness of the table. All professionals do that.”

“Ah, of course, the famous ‘measurement’,” he teased, closing the space until his chest pressed fully against your back.

Jake leaned over you to reach the table, trapping you between his chest and the wood. In the process, you felt the growing hardness in his pants press against your hip, drawing a muffled gasp from you before you could stop it.

“Or is it more like the wine is already making you see double white balls, huh?” he murmured close to your ear, brushing his cheek against yours.

“You’re a cheater. You were distracting me on purpose,” you complained, turning slightly to give him a gentle push on the chest.

“Whatever you say,” Jake declared with extreme smugness.

Then his fingers slid over yours to take the cue from you and set it aside. Next, he grabbed your waist, pulled you back against his torso, and brought his own cue in front of you, completely enveloping you between his arms and the table.

“Stay right there,” he instructed, guiding your hands to hold the cue along with his. “Watch and learn how a professional breaks.”

Feeling his chest rising and falling against your back and that growing hardness pressing shamelessly against you made it almost impossible to concentrate on the game. Jake leaned in a little more, resting his chin almost on your shoulder as he adjusted the angle toward the white ball.

“Jake, I think you’re too close. You don’t need to be all over me like this,” you told him in a breathy voice, though you made no real attempt to pull away.

“I’m maintaining the balance of the shot, my love,” he justified with that lopsided smile pressed to your neck, sliding the cue back and forth. “Now, eyes on the white.”

He took a breath and struck the ball with brutal force and precision. The dry crack of the impact echoed through the room, and the balls shot off in every direction, with two of them sinking into the corner pockets.

A perfect shot.

He didn’t move a single centimeter away from your back. He simply let out a victorious laugh against the skin of your neck, leaving a short kiss just below your ear that made you shiver all over.

“That’s how it’s done,” he boasted. “Catwoman. I’m already imagining you in that tight leather suit… and nothing underneath.”

“That was pure luck, Sim Jaeyun,” you retorted defiantly.

Without moving from the table, you pushed your hips back with clear intention, pressing the curve of your ass against the hardness straining his pants. You moved your hips in a slow, provocative sway—pressing, rubbing, grinding against him. You felt perfectly how his cock hardened even more beneath the fabric, throbbing against you with every movement.

Jake let out a hoarse, broken hiss, almost a growl, as his fingers dug into your hips.

“Fuck…” he muttered in a wrecked voice, holding back the urge to thrust against you. “Luck? No… talent,” he finally managed to say, though his breathing was ragged and his smile looked more like a grimace of pure effort to stay in control. “I cede my turn. Let’s see if this time you actually hit the ball or swing at the air like a beginner again.”

“Keep talking and see if you even finish the game,” you purred, giving his cock one last rub with your ass before pulling away.

You picked up the cue with feigned concentration, but both of you knew the real game had begun between their bodies. The match continued, transformed into a dangerous exchange of “accidental” brushes, loaded glances, and increasingly undisguised provocations. With every passing minute, Jake’s erection became an obvious, painful bulge he no longer tried to hide. Still, he had played skillfully despite the torture and was only one ball—the black one—away from closing the game and claiming his Catwoman.

You, on the other hand, had stopped pretending to care about the scoreboard. The wine and desire had completely melted your judgment. When it was his turn to prepare for the final shot, you sat shamelessly on the corner of the table, right next to the 8-ball, with your legs slightly spread and your skirt hiked up to mid-thigh.

You were hypnotized, staring at the tension in his shoulders, the drop of sweat sliding down his neck, and especially the thick, prominent veins bulging in his forearms as he gripped the cue tightly. There was something incredibly seductive about the skill in his movements. Seeing Jaeyun like this—so fucking capable, focused, and precise—was making you wet in ways you couldn’t have imagined, leaving a hot, urgent throb in your core that screamed for them to abandon the game and drag him onto you.

Jake adjusted his stance, eye fixed on the black ball. He was one shot away from clearing the table, claiming victory, and taking his prize. But he made the mistake of looking at you.

His eyes traveled from the ball to the corner of the table. He saw you sitting there, skirt barely covering what was necessary, full lips parted from your heavy breathing, and that gaze filled with desire aimed straight at his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing hard as he tried to cling to the last shred of sanity he had left. But fuck, the pressure in his pants was so brutal his balls ached. He inhaled deeply, searching for air, but seeing you so willing, thighs spread in direct invitation for him, killed any attempt at self-control.

“To hell with the game… I surrender,” he growled, voice thick with frustration. “You won.”

Not giving a damn about the scoreboard, he dropped the cue, letting it roll across the table. He crossed the distance between you in two hungry strides, stepped fully between your legs, and pinned you against the edge of the wood. His fingers sank into the back of your thighs before he devoured your mouth in a desperate kiss, erasing any space between you the instant you released a muffled moan against his lips.

His tongue invaded your mouth as he pressed his hot, hard erection against your center. He ground against you with slow, filthy rolls of his hips, as if he were already fucking you through your clothes. The alcohol made everything more intense, clumsier, and more primal.

“I’ve been imagining you on this table the entire damn game,” he confessed against your lips, catching your lower lip between his teeth and tugging. “Fuck the bet… right now I just want to fuck you until you forget your own name.”

Your hands immediately flew to his hair, tangling in the strands and pulling hard as you answered the kiss with the same desperation. At your response, Jake growled against your mouth, slid his hands up to the curve of your ass, and lifted you in one smooth motion, seating you fully on the billiard table amid the clatter of the balls shifting.

There wasn’t an ounce of patience left. Without breaking the contact of your lips, he ripped your panties off with a single tug, tearing them without hesitation, while at the same time you pushed his pants and boxers down just enough to free his fully hard cock. You felt it throb in your palm as you pumped it with desperate rhythm, drawing a whimper from him.

“Don’t make me wait,” you moaned breathlessly, unsure if it was a plea or a demand.

He brushed your hand aside to take full control. He rubbed the thick head of his cock against your soaked pussy, sliding torturously between your wet folds and driving you wild before giving you what both of you were desperately begging for.

“All this time provoking me…” he growled softly, looking into your eyes with hunger. “Now you’re going to behave and take every last inch.”

You cried out at his words, heart pounding hard. Jake rubbed the thick, hot head of his cock against your soaked pussy one last time, sliding between your swollen folds, before thrusting into you with one deep, precise stroke.

Pleasure shot through you like lightning. You felt him open you, fill you completely, stretching you deliciously around his thickness. Jake let out a guttural, long, and rough moan as he felt your hot, wet walls clench tightly around him.

“Fuck…” he muttered through gritted teeth, closing his eyes for a second.

The table creaked dangerously under your combined weight. But Jake didn’t stop. He started fucking you with hard, desperate thrusts, pulling out almost completely only to sink back to the hilt with every stroke, making your breasts bounce wildly beneath your clothes.

You gripped his shoulders tightly, digging your nails into the fabric of his shirt as you felt his cock hit that perfect spot inside you over and over, making your back arch and your toes curl from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Harder, more” you begged in a broken voice, drunk on pleasure.

Hearing your plea, Jake released a wild growl from deep in his chest. Without losing rhythm, he pushed you back until you were lying completely on the soft green felt of the table. Then he grabbed your thigh, hooked one leg over his shoulder, spreading you wide open, and sank back in to the root with merciless, deep, and painfully precise thrusts.

With every impact, you felt the weight of his body pressing you against the wood, the scorching heat radiating from his skin, and the frantic grind of his pelvis against your clit. At the same time, Jake felt your pussy walls contracting around his cock, squeezing him tighter and tighter, threatening to trap him with every withdrawal—an tight, suffocating grip that was driving him insane.

The table began to protest with louder and louder creaks under the frantic rhythm of his hips. However, neither of them noticed until a sharp, prolonged crack sounded right beneath their bodies.

“Jake, wait” you gasped, alarmed.

He stopped dead, still buried to the hilt inside you. Both remained completely still, chests heaving and breathing ragged, listening for any sound.

The table creaked again, louder this time, almost like a crash.

“Shit,” he cursed through his teeth.

With superhuman effort, Jake pulled out of you in one quick tug. He barely had time to react before one of the main legs snapped with a loud crack. The entire table collapsed sideways all at once; balls rolled noisily across the floor and the green felt folded under the weight.

You both fell to the floor completely tangled, with him acting on pure instinct to wrap you in his arms and cushion the impact. Despite his attempt to protect you, your hip and elbow hit the ground while Jake rolled to the side at the last second to avoid crushing you with his weight.

For a couple of seconds, the room fell into absolute silence, broken only by the echo of the billiard balls bouncing and coming to a stop in the distance, along with the ragged sound of your frantic breathing. You lay there among the broken wood, disheveled, skin burning, and clothes half-removed.

You turned to look at him and found his dark eyes already fixed on you. Your gazes met amid the wreckage, and once you both processed what had just happened, the tension shattered as you both burst into a wave of laughter.

“No way,” Jake said between laughs, still panting as he tried to catch his breath.

He propped himself up on one elbow, his hair messy and damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. He had a small scrape on his forearm from protecting your fall, but he didn’t even seem to notice it. He simply looked you up and down with concern.

“Are you okay, my love?” he asked, stroking your side. “Did you hit yourself hard?”

You kept laughing softly, but the desire hadn’t diminished one bit. On the contrary, it burned even hotter. You grabbed his wrinkled shirt and pulled him toward you, opening your legs so he could settle between them again.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you gasped against his lips, kissing him with urgent clumsiness. “Forget about that, Ikeu. Don’t stop… take me right here. Make me yours.”

Jake let out a shaky sigh, completely surrendered to you. He positioned himself carefully among the wood and felt remnants, guiding his hot, throbbing cock to your entrance. When he entered you again, slow and deep, both of you let out a long, broken moan that seemed to stop time.

This time he moved with a more measured rhythm, though every thrust remained intense and deliberate. He braced himself on his forearms beside your head, enveloping you with the heat of his body while staring at you intently, refusing to miss a single one of your expressions.

Your hands remained restless, seeking each other’s skin. With a firm but tender movement, Jake took you by the thigh and wrapped your leg around his hip, joining your pelvises until any trace of distance disappeared. His other hand rose to your face, cradling your cheek with tenderness, using his thumb to caress your cheekbone with every thrust.

You slid your fingertips along his sweaty back, lightly digging your nails into his shoulders when the sensation became too overwhelming. Between slow kisses and intertwined breaths, you finished removing what little clothing still remained, claiming full skin-to-skin and heart-to-heart contact.

The floor was hard and cold, but discomfort had no place there. In the middle of the chaos of the destroyed table, surrounded by splinters and scattered billiard balls, what began as a game of pure desire transformed into something much deeper. They weren’t just two drunk people letting go; they were two married lovers, best friends, and souls who had chosen each other, making love between smiles and whispers.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Just him, just you, and that overflowing love that had the power to turn any disaster into the most perfect corner of the world to lose yourselves in each other.

Hi beauties ~

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