#worldsover

“Hey.” Her greeting cuts through the bassy music well enough, even if her voice has similarly low frequencies that should clash. She sits on the stool in front of you. 

Though the headcount is lower than usual, the clubbers on the dance floor are as soulless as usual and the DJ plays the music just as loud. You should invest in earplugs. You see all kinds as a bartender at a club. Everything from women in stuffy suit jackets to guys who definitely should have been kicked out for not wearing a shirt. But something about her casual outfit—the loose plaid blouse, the tube top, the denim shorts—throws you off more than most.

Still staring. It’s dark, yet your eyes keep snagging on the defined lines of her abs. Even when you peel away from her middle, you’re raising to the subtlest cleavage, then lowering to her equally toned, meaty thighs. Earplugs won’t help here. Do your job.

She waves, giggling to herself. “Hello? I’m Heejin.”

“Oh. You’re not ordering?” You set the glass aside. “Oh. You’re… uh.”

“Heejin, yes. And I am ordering. I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri.”

“Of course.” As you rummage for the rum, you say, “I was going to say, I know you from somewhere.”

“Ooh, really? Where do you think?” Cutely, Heejin holds her head in her hands and tilts her head.

You retrieve strawberries and citrus soda from the fridge, then mix them with ice in a blender; its whirring is annoying. After grabbing some scrap paper and a pen, you write down the word “earplugs” with a big underline.

“So I should know,” you say. “Dammit.”

“Yeah, you should.” Heejin harrumphs, her arms crossed.

The more she throws you off, the more you have trouble finding the words. However you knew Heejin, it seems to be trouble, or at least some sort of alarm is going off in the back of your head. You should finish making her drink, deal with a couple more customers, so you can finally go home to—oh, right, Hyunjin. She’s away, back at her hometown for the week. You wouldn’t consider yourself a clingy boyfriend, but the expectation of coming home to Hyunjin has just been so entrenched in your mind ever since she moved in with you. 

“Hey.” Heejin waves in front of your face. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” You realize you’ve just been frozen in thought, rum bottle in hand.

“Seems like you have something going on.” Her voice lulls you into a false sense of security. Or maybe it is genuine and you’re thinking far too much about a small interaction. You thought you had these nuances ironed out having worked at this bar for long enough.

“No, no. It’s just that work is almost done and my girl—Ah! Right, I remember! You go to the same gym class as Hyunjin!”

Heejin has a weak smile on her face. “That’s all? She doesn’t talk about me? Well, for your information, we hang out too.”

“Yes, yes, of course. You’re her friend. Sorry, just slipped my mind.”

“Tsk. Meanie.”

You can’t follow Heejin. One moment, she acts cool, then the next, she plays like she’s as cute as a button. Again, a weird, subconscious alarm goes off. It’s her body language, how she’s leaning over and inching closer to you. 

“Can you help me out? You seem like you’re good with girls,” Heejin says with an undecipherable low tone. Her stare is not directed at you but inside of you. Your initial reaction is to draw the line right in the middle of this countertop—you’re too slow, so she continues, “Your girlfriend won’t stop talking about how good you are to her. S-so I just thought maybe you could give me a hand.”

Think about it deeper. What’s wrong with talking to Heejin? She’s just a friend of a friend, maybe a tad tipsy, maybe a bit bizarre. You’re doing your unwritten job description as a bartender by entertaining the woes of your customer.

“Uhh. Um, like… No, I’m not. Not good with girls. Really.” You’re coming out of the gates swinging with your sage wisdom. Good job. Pour out the strawberry daiquiri and garnish it with a lime. Why are you stumbling? This is the easiest drink to make. “I just got lucky.”

Heejin takes the glass, brushing your fingers. That was purposeful. But you notice more the lightest scrape of her long nails against the back of your digits, and that shouldn’t raise the hairs on your arms to their ends.

It does.

“Oh. Lucky?” Heejin takes a sip. 

Though a bar counter separates the two of you, her charismatic pull removes any perception of space. People on the dance floor are grinding into each other, and it feels like there’s more distance. Okay, so Heejin is flirting. Now that you recognize the dangerous situation, you can disengage, back up, not get sucked into her gravity. All you have to do is—

Heejin takes your frozen hand. Once again, her touch is soft, near imperceptible: her thumb just rubs a small circle on your palm. The heat from her hand turns you into ice.

“Do you want to get luckier?” she whispers.

You hear it. Loud and clear. The club’s blaring music can’t challenge a single decibel.

Heejin backs away, sensing your discomfort. She sits straight, and with the pout on her lips, it’s like she’s a whole different person again. “See, I’ve been having trouble with guys.”

You shake your head. “I-I can’t help you.”

“Sure you can. You’re a bartender.”

Just leave. Lose out on the tip. Who cares? Hyunjin finds out you were cold to one of her friends. Better yet, tell her the truth. Say you were a good boyfriend and rejected Heejin’s advances. You don’t want to ruin one of Hyunjin’s friendships, though. Or maybe you should ruin this friendship—Heejin is bad news.

However, your feet are planted. More than anything else, when a customer asks for advice, you help them out. You’ve dealt with much worse such as rowdier and more violent drunks before. Heejin could be messing with you; she seems the playful type. She could just be touchy. Your life is filled with misunderstandings leading to problems—for example, you could’ve asked out Hyunjin months earlier but didn’t because you heard she wasn’t ready to commit (turns out that was about work)—so it’s best to assume people’s sincerity.

Heejin raises her brows, her eyes wide in anticipation. Seems that she really needs the help.

You relax your shoulders. “Okay. Fine. What sort of boy problems are you having?”

“Geez, you really like to stiffen up when you stare at me.” Heejin laughs to herself, maybe more of a soft exhalation out her nose.

“Uh.”

“It just seems like every guy I meet wants to fuck me. It doesn’t even matter what I wear. But I guess I can’t blame guys for staring at my abs or my thighs”—Heejin grins when she catches you doing just that—”when I try to wear something casual like this.”

“I’m sorry, I’m—”

Heejin plows on through with her point; you can’t seem to get a word in edgewise. “I want someone committed, you know? Someone with real experience in a relationship. It’s so fucking sexy when a guy is just so devoted to a girl.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what? You’re all jittery even though we’re just talking.” Once more, you didn’t notice until she pointed it out, which is more of an indictment of your overwhelmed thoughts considering how carefully Heejin is speaking. She sighs plaintively. “But I heard Hyunjin was going to miss this week’s gym class. Why didn’t you go?”

You don’t have to tell her. You tell her. “She… she said she wanted some alone time.”

“Alone time? Ha!” This is Heejin’s biggest smile, a blinding light in the dark club. Her fingers rap against the countertop. “I’m lying about the commitment part to be honest. But… maybe I’m not the only one lying about commitment.”

You want to hyperventilate. The sheer thought of Hyunjin hours away with another man makes you want to throw up.

Heejin has the most pitying look on her face. “Aww. It’s okay. See, I can at least be honest about myself. I said I lied, right? I did. I don’t want a committed guy. Well, I do, but not just any guy. I want the kind of guy who would give me presents every day. The kind of guy who would show off his relationship on Insta even if she doesn’t really like to post couple pictures.”

Any sort of survival instinct you had has been burned off by possibility, by innuendo, by thoughts of adultery that should be so far from a man standing and a woman sitting across from him, but you can’t ignore the truth of the present tension.

Heejin downs her pink icy drink. “The kind of guy who gets nervous at the mere thought of other girls is so hot. I’d let him do so much to me. I would suck his dick whenever we drive home from dates. I’d let him fuck my face, then pound me until I become part of the bed. I’d warm his cock while we cuddle. All that just because he’s such a nice guy. Isn’t that funny?”

You lick your lips. Everything you do is a mistake. It’s not that funny—you can’t even retort out loud anymore.

“Do you know any guys like that?”

At your silence, your stillness, Heejin stands up. Bending over the bar, she grabs you by the collar of your dress shirt. There’s so much strength in her grip—not even physical, but her mental hold on you. This whole time, you’ve been looking away from her eyes, and that only leads down her legs. Of course, Hyunjin’s thighs are just as rippling. So why are you comparing now? Is the grass greener? Keep asking questions. That’s what makes you you. That fundamental shakiness in your core that you forgot about stops you from stopping Heejin—your heart joins the stopping train as her eager mouth presses into yours, catching a bit of drool. Violets are a symbol of love and honesty; Heejin smells like them. Do Venus flytraps smell like this too?

“Mmm,” Heejin moans into your mouth. A simple kiss feels far too good. It feels far too good to taste the drink you made her. As if you made your own sugar-tinged death.

Stop her. 

Push her off of you. 

Do it. You have to. 

You have to not fall into the soft, slick embrace of her lips now mixed with the slithering temptation of her tongue. 

You can’t.

Hypocrite. What are you thinking?

Heejin wraps her arms around your neck.

Other bargoers are cheering. Luckily, this isn’t the kind of place to have regulars since new people rotate in and out all the time, but you’re hoping that none of your coworkers are watching too. You never shut up about Hyunjin. 

Your priorities are wrong.

“Do my lips taste good, Oppa?” Heejin says in the cutesiest voice.

“Yeah.” The honesty slips past a ragged breath. Heejin’s lips are like candy and they’re luscious and they will be your perilous new addiction because you’re falling right back into her mouth without a second thought.

When Heejin lets go, a flimsy saliva thread drips. “She doesn’t let you cum inside her, does she?”

You nod dumbly.

Heejin brushes through your hair one last time, then gives a small tug on the strands before she releases. “Let’s go then. I can do at least one thing she can’t.”

When you leave your spot to get your keys from the staff storage, the same bargoers that cheered you on are now booing.

As you collect your personal effects in a rush, your coworker Jaehyo joins you in the small room. You wave weakly at him. “Perfect. Man the bar for me.”

“Oh, thank god. I thought you weren’t ditching early this week. Honestly, you should just give me your job at this point since you’re always—Hey! Why are you sprinting so…”

Heejin is taking selfies in the parking lot. As you point out your black sedan, she gives you a pretty smile.

Your head is spinning when you get in your car. You’re the one who’s been serving drinks tonight, yet it feels like you shouldn’t be driving. Your body is moving on autopilot, commanded by Heejin’s every word.

“Drive.”

Drive.

Seatbelts click. Engines roar. You thought you were done with loud music, but you turn your stereo up to drown your thoughts which have been led so astray today that you’d rather they just sink to the ocean floor; their weak bones can rot in the water, fine. The song’s lyrics might as well be gibberish in your ears. Your overwhelming car speakers might as well be a piddly Bluetooth toy. You put the whole weight of your being into driving. 

At these speeds, you shouldn’t look at your phone screen, but the notification in the corner of your eye draws your attention—Jaehyo. 

“Hey,” Heejin says, twisting the volume knob, “he says there’s a bunch of tabs that haven’t been closed and he doesn't know who bought which drinks.”

“Text him back for me.”

“Of course.” She grabs the phone from the mount. “Uh, PIN?”

“Eleven fifteen.”

Heejin scoffs. “I could’ve guessed that.”

“Tell him I’ll pay for all the drinks.”

“Wooow, Mister Big Shot over here.” Heejin types away. “Alright. Sent. Wait a minute, does that include mine?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. You still have to pay me back.” You realize how flirty this comes across when you shouldn’t be flirting with the idea of flirting.

“Wow. You’re a liar. You look so conflicted and anxious like you're fighting demons. Yet here you are, saying pickup lines like a porn star. I know how you can pay this rent,” Heejin says in a purposefully low and exaggerated voice. Her similarly deep giggle disarms you by making you laugh. Then you’re quieted by Heejin once more. “What do you really want? I think I know. You want me to fuck my face on your cock in this car, bring my lips to the bottom of your dick, hit the back of my throat with a sticky load.”

You manage to temper your erection during Heejin’s advances, though that’s not so easy when her lips are next to your ear, whispering breathy, sweltering nothings.

She fondles your crotch over your pants, and you’re doing everything to hold back—everything short of turning the car around, dropping Heejin off in the middle of the road. You should do that. You should really do that. 

Your foot is made of lead.

Heejin unzips your pants, fishes your soft dick out. Her eyes widen.

“It’s that long? Even when it’s not hard? I am mad at Hyunjin. You know that? Wasting such a beautiful cock.” The bassier notes in her voice tingle from your ear straight to the inside of your brain.

“Don’t talk about her.”

“Oh, okay. I have one way of keeping quiet.” Heejin takes off her seatbelt—you’re in no place to teach her safety. She leans over the center console and places her striking visage a hair’s breadth from your flaccid shaft. The light grip of hands weighs on your thighs like anchors, digging, tickling. You want to laugh.

Heejin has an unwavering resolve to keep her eye contact despite having to twist her neck to look at you. She runs her spit-wet mouth up and down along the underside of your shaft, puckering and kissing. Still twisted sideways to face you, a hand gripping the base, Heejin pops your cockhead in and out of her lips; each pop leads to a small bead of pre-cum happily slurped up by Heejin.

“Do you like it when I play with your cock like this? Or should it be my throat milking your cock instead? Mwah. This is for… proper payment.” 

“You don’t have to keep talking.”

“Good point. I should just be your oral fuck hole, right?”

“That’s not what I—”

Heejin swallows your length in two motions: halfway down, your dick hits the back of her mouth, causing a gag and pause and a glob of saliva to spill, and then she breaks a barrier, your erection gliding in so easily.

Soon, you’re freed from the beautiful confines of her throat, though your sensitive tip is still nurtured by her lips. 

“Ghah, I thingh…” Heejin mumbles, “klh, you meant like thih. See? Gooh, blph, good fuck toy. Nhm.”

Heejin puts her hands behind her back. Now the only thing keeping her lips from kissing your crotch is your cock, and why would she let that get in her way? With much less control, subject to the whims of the car’s shakiness, she has to choke herself down your length. When Heejin goes up, thick spit strands fall from her giggly mouth. 

Control is slipping away from you too; in particular, it is wrested away by the choking grip of Heejin’s throat around the tip of your dick. A dangerous game, considering you’re in the driver’s seat. Truthfully, it’s a miracle you even made it this far without crashing, and luckily, you’re not too far from your destination—you’re not that far from home either. Four-lane wide roads become narrow streets leading to your neighborhood. There is no real race happening since Heejin can’t even see much past the tears in her eyes as she bounces her gorgeous face up and down, ruining her gentle makeup. However, it certainly resembles a race. The ending is obvious. The LED of the dashboard, streetlamps, headlights far behind and ahead of you. All pales next to the blissful light of…

To the blissful light of…

To the bliss…

An audible smooch as Heejin releases. “Now, now, not yet, Oppa. Didn’t I promise you something earlier?”

“You, you, f-fucking—”

“Well, we’re at your place now, silly. No matter how much I wanna taste this cum, I’m not gonna do it here in this parking lot.”

Oh, but you’re okay with your head bobbing up and down for other drivers to see? That’s what you would say. Instead, you’re silent. How is your car in your driveway in one piece? You certainly aren’t.

Heejin wipes her mouth with her forearm. “You almost hit a light pole! You’re lucky I was holding the wheel.”

You don’t even look at Heejin as you get out of the car. At the club, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. This infinite doubt is your downfall. You worked so hard to fix this worst trait of yours.

That was with a different woman.

Years of memories in this house. The front yard where Heejin’s lips flatten against yours is the same place you and Hyunjin had picnics, fed birds, planted new flowers—these get trampled as the two of you clumsily inch toward the entrance. Whenever you came home with Hyunjin, you had this dumb little game where you took turns knocking on this very front door even though no one answered. Every knock-knock joke that followed was even dumber, but you savored every second with your beautiful girlfriend. 

That’s not knocking; that’s the sound of Heejin being pushed again and again against the front door in your impassioned kiss. You fumble for keys somewhere under your phone inside your pocket; it shouldn’t be this hard to fish them out; it shouldn’t be this hard to figure out access to your own home—your dick shouldn’t be this hard pressing into Heejin. Hope the neighbors aren’t watching.

After too long, the door is slammed open. You savor Heejin’s tongue like you’re starving as she stumbles backward. The lingering scent of bread defining your domicile barely hits your nose. You throw your keys to the coffee table. A cat-eared mug you bought for Hyunjin as a random gift, a photobook she made for your birthday. You remember the rare makeout session on the couch instead of the bed (half the passion), you remember movie nights with Hyunjin in your living room when you fished out spilled popcorn from between the sofa cushions (found some coins too), and you remember... 

Nothing.

The lovely moments with Hyunjin are swept by. They’re not solid islands; they’re crude rafts—the ocean’s cruelty prevails. You’re pulled along toward your bedroom by Heejin, and everything passes. 

Heejin jumps on you, legs clinging to you while her fingers ruffle your hair. Her lips have yet to release for a breath. Your back slams against the hallway wall as Heejin is grinding against your clothed cock so desperately that you can feel the warmth through her own pants.

Your sigh is sharp, and your heart races when Heejin finally hops off of you and onto your bed. Though the light of the lamp you turn on is dim, you take in the sight of Heejin splayed on your bed. She’s sloppy. Her hair’s a mess; no doubt yours is too. A shiny trail of spit from the fiery lip lock starts at her lips, falls past her chin, ends between her cleavage. The warm light shines too on a thin layer of sweat on her pearly skin.

There’s no way to defend anything that’s happened since your lips touched Heejin’s lips, probably even earlier than that. But some irrational part of you makes you take out your wallet and pull out the condom you never use. (Hyunjin never wants to have sex anywhere other than this very bed, plus a whole candle-lit ritual just to get going.) You feel silly. As if this protection were the last bastion from infidelity. Ridiculous.

Absurdity has yet to stop you. While Heejin is distracted taking off her clothes, you sit on the edge of the bed, facing away from her. You strip down too, though you’re trying your best to discreetly put the thin condom on with your best sleight of hand. 

Once your deception is complete, you pull Heejin, sitting her up next to you. 

Heejin tilts her head. “You don’t want to watch me strip?” 

Your vocal response is empty. Instead, your lips smack against Heejin’s neck and shoulders as your hands run around her bare body. It’s quite the intimate lesson on her curves, but you can’t believe it anyway. You recall Hyunjin’s complaints about the intensity of Heejin’s routines in the gym. They’re paying off right now in this bedroom.

Shuddering, Heejin flips her legs over yours, straddling your lap. She rocks into your thigh, and the slickness from her labia rubs off on it. Your digits dig into the ample meat of her ass.

Now that you can appreciate Heejin’s perky tits to their fullest, your sequence of kisses continues lower down her chest. Her boobs are just enough for your hands to play with while your lips suck on her tautening nipples. That floral scent is muskier, something more primal in your mind. You let your teeth graze on her sensitive tips, drawing out tiny whines before you head back to her mouth again.

“Mh.” Heejin releases first. “You’re a good kisser. I shouldn’t be surprised.” 

Her smile weakens your heart. The question of whether it will beat again is silly given its unmatchable rhythm right now, but you can’t help but wonder the rhetorical anyway.

“Finally. After all this time. I’ve been waiting so long and—” Heejin looks down and scowls. “Are you fucking—no, I didn’t come all this way here to feel some rubber. I’d just use my dildo and think about you like I always do.”

You concede. Dumb plan. Still, you trace a line that should’ve been drawn much earlier. “I don’t care,” you say curtly.

Heejin gets off your lap and pushes you onto the bed. “Fine, I’m done then.”

“Awesome. Great. Leave.”

The two of you stare at each other, heavily breathing. Your dick is twitching in need.

“I said I don’t care. Go.” You’ve never sounded less convincing in your life.

“Stop me. Stop me right now.” Heejin smirks, bending down to place her face by your crotch. You back up until you can’t anymore, your pillows bunching up at the head of the bed. She crawls to follow your dick like a pet and its toy. Her breaths are heavy; you can hear them but can’t feel their warmth. Then, the tip of her tongue darts right under your condom-covered cockhead, giving arduously gentle licks. She draws a line up your length. What should be the most sensitive part of your body feeling the most pleasure barely registers as a blip of a touch.

Your body is as uncooperative, motionless as your mind.

“I said stop me. If you don’t want to pump my warm and perfect pussy with your seed until Hyunjin comes home, then just say the word and I’ll stop.”

The line is just a metaphor after all—useless, a waste of time. “P-please.”

“Please, what?”

You can’t look at Heejin. You can’t look at the picture frame on the bedside table with you and Hyunjin on your second date. How can you possibly look at yourself in the mirror when—“Please take off the condom.”

Heejin does just that with a triumphant smile. It’s a simple motion: the upward stroke of her hand brings the protection along with her fingers. After throwing the condom straight to the trash, she sits on you again. She rubs her wet pussy lips back and forth your length a couple times, then backs up and presses your rock-hard dick against her tummy.  

"See how warm it feels?" Understanding how intensely you’ve been staring at her midriff, Heejin slaps your cock against her abs, then places her palm on top of your tip like she's measuring something. “See how deep you can go?”

Your cock approximately reaches her belly button.

"Oh my god, that's gonna hit my fucking guts. Like this." Heejin keeps slapping your cock against her toned midriff, rubbing it left and right. “But from the inside! Fuck, you’re gonna mix my guts up. Without that stupid condom, you’re gonna shoot your load straight into my womb.”

While maintaining eye contact, she lets a stream of spit fall the way down from her lips, right between her cleavage, straight to her midriff. Using your shaft like a tool, she spreads the spit across, getting the definition of her muscles nice and shiny. She traces every subtle groove with your cockhead and lathers both you and her with saliva. You admire the evidence of time and effort Heejin has put into herself, though her good shape would not affect you as intensely if her face weren’t as adorable; it reminds you of Hyunjin—here we go again.

“Gonna need some lubrication for this monster to fit in me raw. I know I'm already dripping for you, but a little more wetness can't hurt right? Ptoo." Heejin spits again, then twists her slick hands around your length. “God, are you going to fit inside me? I have to use two hands to handle it properly.”

One more time, Heejin presses your cock against her abs, but this time, she squats up and down, sliding you against her firm muscles. It’s not just the externality of touch lighting your fire; a vivid hue saturates your every sense as the deep tingly pink dances around your thoughts to subsume all that isn’t the promise of thrusting your dick inside of the tight temptress now.

“No, I don’t care if it fits. Break me. Split my little pussy in half.” 

After one more upward motion, her pussy is aligned right above your tip; drops of slick drop from her slit before she drops too, her hands squeezing down on your shoulders.

“Oh, fuck, y-you’re going to have to help me, push me down. Too, too tight.”

You hold her taut midriff with both hands and squeeze her down into your cock. It’s not just an exaggeration of the novelty or the discomfort: gravity itself isn’t enough to pull Heejin around the width of your shaft. Up, then down a bit further. Despite all the nudging and the rampant lubrication of her pussy, it still takes a full minute, probably longer, to work your entire length inside of her tightness. You’re not so much fucking Heejin as you are wearing her slowly around your cock like a fitted tee.

“Ahh! Yessss, it, it, I think it’s hitting so, so deep. Is that my cer—ouwh, god.”

Eventually, Heejin acclimates to your cock’s size, her soft, soaking walls sculpting on your dick, and a visible bulge that still fails to disturb her perfect abs. There’s such a genuine eye smile on her when your cock’s fully disappeared inside. A simple bliss wracks her whole body. You feel the same way: you could stay like this until your girlfriend comes home—

With your eyes wide open, your mind racing with regrets once again, Heejin squats and pulls herself back up, your shaft glistening. You’ve never felt more stupid at the flash-moment relief you felt since it is taken away—along with your breath—when Heejin pushes her ass down into your crotch again, faster this time, but still needing to work it in. 

Then the rhythms truly start. A heartbeat, a series of blinks, the ticking of a clock. There’s nothing so predictable, so countable in how Heejin fucks you. And it is undoubtedly Heejin fucking you, not the other way around. Every thrust in her slick walls not only erodes your morality but also your inhibitions. You couldn’t deny that your girlfriend was much meeker in bed, and so you only ever matched that energy. Her pussy devours your cock whole yet again; she ceases all movements while letting out a prolonged groan. Maintaining eye contact this whole time, she has you in a chokehold that is almost as suffocating as her immaculate tightness. Shivers run down your back as she traces a finger across your chest. With teeth carved into her lower lip, Heejin’s sultry gaze continues to pierce through your eyes. 

“Oh god, you're stretching me so fucking well.” Her mouth goes agape as she rocks her hips to and fro. “You like how tight I am? And how you're molding my pussy into the shape of your cock? Here, hold me”—Heejin brings your hands on her waist—“and use me like a proper fucktoy. Your fucktoy.”

Swallow that spit stuck in your throat. Holding Heejin in place, you start to thrust upwards into her pussy, and each time you exit her entrance, her tightness rejuvenates. You still have to struggle nearly as much the first time to pry her folds apart again, and every time her insides clench around your length, you let out a hiss. While you’re receiving sensual satisfaction like you’ve never experienced before, she’s frowning—maybe it's your slow pace, or maybe it's that your cock does not always disappear completely in her.

It's probably both.

“Fuck. Me. Harder!” Heejin confirms your suspicion and then finds support on your belly to get your entirety out of her. A strand of mixed stickiness is left hanging for its dear life; a sudden wave of coldness replaces Heejin's incredible warmth, leaving you in shivers. “With a cock this amazing, you should be fucking my brains out already. Do you go this slow with Hyunjin? Maybe that's why she doesn't let you finish in her.”

“D-don't mention—”

“Shut up.”

With your mouth sealed by hers, you find yourself backed against the bed frame. Heejin grips your cock firm—something she almost failed to do thanks to her own slickness—and positions your tip for a re-entry. Her legs extend, one forward to land beside your waist, the other backward. 

“I know you’re always thinking about her. I want you to forget about her completely. It’s just me. This bed. This perfect, perfect cock inside of me. God, this is going to go so, so fucking deep in me.” Heejin licks her lips in excitement as she sinks down on your tip.

You growl, and then you yearn for more—of Heejin's heat, of Heejin's body, of any semblance of control. With one hand on her beautifully arched back, you seize a stiffened nipple into your mouth and immediately begin nibbling on it, and the other lands on her equally well-defined ass. In one fell swoop, Heejin completes the frontal split on your cock. One hundred eighty degrees is the angle of her legs, give or take ten or twenty as she rises and falls to the force of your thrusts.

While you’re heady with pleasure from her tight and flexible body, Heejin is first to be aquiver, pulsating from her core. She is not so much bouncing as she is grinding her pussy against your crotch while your dick fills her up to her guts. 

You’re done holding back your inner desires, your most wanton fantasies. For as much as you denied Heejin, she told only the truth, at least when it came to sex. The rest of the truth is that you want to last one minute longer to savor the brain-melting grip and wetness of her cunt. 

Therefore, one hand grasps Heejin's midriff tightly while the other pins her by the neck, freezing her in place with half your shaft inside. Her legs shake, and her eyes, interrupted from rolling back into her head, are distraught. Gingerly, you peel her off your cock like a wasted condom—her labia clenching your shaft in need, her legs shaking from the splits—and then you sit the pouting, babbling girl in front of you.

With the dangerous high of power (or maybe that’s just the warm smell of sex getting to your head), you chuckle. Heejin seems too far gone to notice. 

“Call me Daddy,” you say. “if you’re going to be such a clingy cockholder.”

Right. You’re the one at the edge of the earth, frayed and alone. Far from anyone. The furthest from your lover.

“Oh. Oh, god, your dick, so, oh, fuck. I miss… I need… why did you have to… F-fine.” After gathering a mote of composure and then slithering up to your ear, Heejin whispers, “Actually, that’s very easy. Ahem. Daddy.” 

You can’t hide the grin on your face. Not in a million years would Hyunjin…

“Pwease, turn Heejin into your baby bunny cum pocket? Heejin will be such a good girl for Daddy, I’ll cum all over Daddy’s cock so you can stuff my needy pussy with your sticky load and—”

You’re already overwhelmed. Not so gingerly, you lift Heejin by the waist and then deposit her onto your cock to resume her ride.

“Fuck! Daddy!”

You slap Heejin, adding one more smacking sound to the drumbeat of her ass against your lap. “I told you to call me Daddy, not call me like a phone sex operator.”

Heejin nods, eyes watery; the corner of her lips raise.

She already won long ago, so don’t humor her small victory. As you fuck your cock up into her, you cover her mouth, restricting her air. Her tongue darts at your hand between her lips, and you let the tiniest puff of air pass as her tongue pushes between your fingers. You pinch the wet, pink tip, drawing out more of her ragged moans.

Everything wrong is perfect. Everything perfect must be wrong. You’re in a true position of power for the first time in what feels like forever—then your phone vibrates from your bedside table.

Bvvt. Bvvt. Bvvt. Bvvt.

Hyunjin.

Many times tonight, you thought you had seen your nadir. It could be overacting, overthinking. Yet, the shadows snuck, crept in the crevices of the window cracked open, letting the whistle of the wind in. Yet yet, you feel the weakest you’ve ever been, the darkest inside, when your first inclination is to ignore the call. 

You’ve never done that. 

You’re always the first to call. 

Fuck. 

You were supposed to call her.

Heejin grabs the phone and picks it up for you before slamming down into your cock even harder. You have trouble catching up as you hold the phone by your ear; god forbid, you drop the device and record the squelchy noises of your illicit intimacy.

“Hey, babe.” Already, by her gentle tone, you know Hyunjin is giving you the benefit of the doubt. Though you’re usually meticulous, you’re not perfect, and it’s not that crazy to miss one phone call.

It’s not like you’d do something crazy like—Heejin is bouncing on your dick at such a delirious rate that the parting of words from your lips is impossible.

“Hello? Busy at work? You sound like you’ve run a marathon.” Hyunjin giggles.

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s it.” You can barely breathe it out. Shudder; oh, do you shudder. “Hgh, I-I had to carry a bunch of… of, of heavy boxes. A lot of new drinks.”

“Ahh. Well, I miss you.”

Oh, she does? You could’ve just gone on the trip with her then. None of this would have happened. 

Now, you have Heejin planting kisses all over your sweaty torso. Now, you have your cock swaddled up and down. Now, you’ve hesitated.

“I…” You can’t even get past yourself, each exhalation obviously stifled.

Hyunjin gasps. Heejin too. How different can two puffs of air be? 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hyunjin asks.

“I’m fine, I just—”

Heejin snatches the phone out of your hand and puts the call on speaker.

“Ahh, shit!” You glare at Heejin, a sly grin fastened on her face.

“Babe, do you need to go to the doctor or something?” From the speaker, Hyunjin’s concern reverberates throughout the room. At least at this juncture, you’re sure she’s missed the continuous sounds of sex, in part to Heejin’s small mercy in slowing down to… grinding halt is only half-correct. Her hips are rocking, but there’s certainly no rigidity to her motions.

Yet, you’re stammering, unable to find an excuse because you’ve never needed one before. 

Heejin does a jerking-off motion with her hand; you raise your brow. She points to the phone. 

Ah. Fuck it. Better than nothing. “Fine. I-I was mas… masturbating. And, and I dropped the phone.”

“Really?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Th-thinking about… me?”

“Who else would I be thinking about?”

Heejin grins at your rhetorical question, knowing she’s the answer wrapped around your dick. “Tell her you miss fucking her,” she whispers—her voice is soft enough, but you still tuck the phone away out of sheer instinct.

You aren't going to always obey her. “Y-y'know babe, I really miss you.”

“And you're saying that while masturbating to me?” Hyunjin scoffs. 

A genuine smile flashes across your face. “No, I just really miss you. I know I put too much pressure on you, and I'm—”

“No, no. Keep all that for when I get back. You sound really tired, so you should go take a rest. Dream about me in the meantime, will you?”

“I… Um. Yes, of course. I will. I love you. Goodnight.”

“I love you too. Mwah.”

The call ends, and the phone finds its rightful place back on the mattress. Despite the other woman coating your cock, the only thing you feel at this moment is embarrassment.

Heejin is sitting calmly on your dick. “Look at you. All in thought again. All backed up because of Hyunjin.”

You gulp as she slinks her hand underneath to paw at your balls. “You’re—you, you didn’t let me cum in… ugh, the car.”

It’s not even a full giggle, just a small blow of air from Heejin’s nose. “Right. Of course that’s what you’re thinking about.”

You have no retort but to provide some force in your waist, snapping upward to drive your length deeper inside. That's less than a retort. Full surrender.

As the bouncing intensifies, hands stop roaming when she interlocks her fingers with yours. Of all the sensual touches, this feels the most intimate. Thus, the most forbidden. And so, the most captivating. Upon a missed beat of your heart, you let go. That free hand strikes her ass crashing down into your waist, and the sweetest whimpers and hottest moans come out viscerally. More than the sweaty warmth in the air, your scent is filled with Heejin. Flowers from another garden.

You start letting your lust out in words between the slaps on her buttcheeks. If you’re going to wither, might as well satiate more of your held-back fantasies.

“So you’re a fuck bunny, huh? A needy animal in heat who can’t even control herself.”

Look how ridiculous you sound. Who’s the true animal here? Who really lost control? 

Heejin nods, putting her highest pitch into her “mms” and “mhms”.

“I’m going to fucking breed you, then. Just like you’ve been begging for, huh? Stalking me, watching me from afar. As if you were a hunter. God, ff…” Your words die when her back arches in pleasure, her hands behind her on the bed, her waist gliding smoothly to lather your length with slickness. “You’re not a hunter. Not, not at all. You’re prey, you’re a little creature, a stray, and you’re gonna take all my fucking cum inside you.”

“Yes! Oh, Daddy, fuck, yes! Heejin… Heejin is your breeding, agh, bunny!”

Heejin is not so much riding you as she is making snappy, jerky motions with her hips while her arms and legs are wrapped around you in a tender hold. It’s an unsustainable rhythm because neither man nor woman could possibly outlast the bubbling pressure. The two of you are less than either. Animals. While she is making no concession to hold back her climax, you want—substitute this word for need on all occasions—one final win. Something. Anything.

However, her walls are tighter than ever, and more importantly, that tightness is coming in growing oscillations. The rising tides are in time with your own demise, a spiral fall into the infinite depths of earthly delight. To the magma core. Unbearable heat.

You’ve certainly stained her insides with pre-cum already, but you feel the first shots of semen, the last remains of regret replaced with a surging buzz.

By the looks of Heejin’s eyes finding the back of her head, finding some god of lust hidden in her brain, she’s feeling the same high. Despite all the loving intimacy you’ve had with Hyunjin, even the times you’ve made her cum during sex, you’ve never been able to cum at the same time as her. Simultaneous orgasm is one of those rare, tricky things to actually pull off. Yet here you are. A stranger. Is chemistry just a game of chance?

Were you always meant to be with Heejin in some other life?

These are the questions that curse you when your mind isn’t working right and letting you feel momentous ecstasy for infidelity. There’s not a correct choice you’ve made, yet here is paradise, its undesired reward abundant.

You and Heejin are two warm, slow-moving, intimately combined figures, slowly returning from the abstract gratification of mutual orgasm to the sticky, sweaty reality of this bed. Your cock is slowly softening too, though you have yet to pull out, slathered in both your lewd juices. Heejin looks tired but clearly isn’t since she’s still slowly swaying her waist, still searching for the last bursts of pleasure she can find in your slumping shaft. Maybe friction, maybe heat.

“D-done? Right. Of course.” Heejin can’t hide her disappointment in her pout.

Your head is shaking.

That’s disappointment too, right? When you shake your head, it’s disapproval. A lingering distaste in your mouth at yourself, that’s what makes sense.

This is a senseless place.

“No,” you say, your voice low. Obscene sloshing noises as you pull out of her snug pussy. Get up from the mattress. “I’m not done yet.”

Heejin is in awe. She must have expected you to turn over and fall on the bed tired. To be fair, you expected the same too.

But you're energized by the bunny. Heejin lays before you, drenched in sweat, her subtle makeup smeared. While her body in motion redefines perfection, steals the very meaning for herself, so too is her body in stillness. As she sighs, her pert chest rises and falls with every cycle of inhalation, exhalation. Her abs tense, showing their strong lines, and semen leaks out from her pussy with each visible clenching.

Heejin portrays many expressions in the shocks of climax. Her flawless jawline screams pride, her parted mouth lust, clearly slothful fatigue in those frowned eyes. You wonder how much deadlier can she get.

“Hah. You're staring,” she says between each labored breath.

Heejin then looks to the side; her chest still heaves, but slower. Place a palm on the facet of the gem that is her face, you could spend hours admiring her side profile. Maybe even write an essay on her nose bridge.

It's your turn to shower her chest with kisses. Her tits aren't bigger than Hyunjin's, though still perky enough. Each peck spells a rippling wave on her delicate flesh; the saltiness of her sweat glazes your lips.

Heejin moans to your many touches while blood rushes to your groin once more. Flip her over, off of her back, and onto her tummy. You glimpse shock in her face when she looks back.

The sin of wrath—worthless vengeance—on your visage must be painted too faithfully.

Feeling Heejin’s nipples and the heft of her breasts, you wrap an arm around her torso to lift her up so that she’s on her hands and knees. You spread her thighs, her asscheeks, admiring the glisten, the glow, the glamorous stickiness with whatever is left of your dripping creampie, then pull Heejin back so that you can align your already concrete-hard dick with her entrance. 

How her long hair falls, how the flesh of her butt ripples, how all the muscles in her back create such a drool-worthy image—target. Whatever the cause may be, you’re surprised how hard your erection is. Even with the most erotic session with Hyunjin—oh, she let you try a position other than missionary, how scandalous—you’ve never had a sequel.

Keep comparing. That’ll do you good.

There’s nothing to compare when you start to pull Heejin’s hair while you push your tip, parting her cunt’s creamy lips. With one hard snap of your waist, you bury your cock completely in Heejin. The both of you moan, you out of the tightness and her out of the sudden impact. 

You run your palm along her arched back to find yourself on her neck, then trace along her skin and give it a firm grasp; Heejin starts to struggle for air. In the renewed momentum of this one thrust, her tiny figure is propelled into the welcoming mattress, and your shaft somehow finds its way deeper into her cavern. Take a moment to admire how your cock pins Heejin down, how more of your previous load oozes out onto the sheets, how Heejin groans at this sudden intrusion. 

"Mmh, Daddy, you're even deeper in me." Heejin could barely squeeze words through her gritted teeth, but she's still relentless in tickling your arousal. 

Heejin is right, of course. The new prone position affords you the deepest penetration you’ve ever achieved, slick tightness totally overwhelming your pleasure points; she, on the other hand, finds herself in discomfort yet delight simultaneously. Though struggling for air, her lustful mewls are louder than ever, and she’s fucking back into you as best as she can while trapped under your weight. The literal chokehold you have on Heejin mirrors the euphoric chokehold she has on you at this very moment—in her submission, complete triumph. 

Not wanting to lose this war of attrition, you loosen the grip on her throat to focus on pounding into her creamy cunt. Her unintelligible noises become words.

"Grrgh, guh, god. Yes, can you feel it, Daddy? Feel how deep you really are in Heejin? It's okay if you can't, because Heejin definitely can. You're so close to my womb right now it's driving me crazy. Please cum for me, Daddy, please. Cum inside Heejin. Fill whatever gap there is between you and me with your hot, warm seed. Give me a baby bunny, please. Heejin is begging you here, please, just like how you wish that ungrateful bitch would, just like how that unthankful bitch would never. Don't hold back daddy. Please. Please. Please—"

Without a sign, Heejin reaches her second peak. Her body shakes in violence to add to the creaking bed, though all are silenced by her orgasmic cries. Lean forward, and your chest now connects with her back. Slick and slippery is the texture between your skins while the entirety of your length stays hidden within her folds. 

You maintain the speed at which you were ravaging her insides. Heejin pumps herself backward to hit two birds with one stone—to match your pace and to ride out her high.

Her screams are getting too loud; you can't risk waking the neighbors. Shove two digits past her spread lips, and Heejin immediately sucks on the makeshift gag. Turning back, she tries to meet your eyes with the pleading gaze she has so perfected. 

No, you are not falling prey to her trick. Shove her face down between the pillows, and you get a good sample of her earlobe while you chase your peak. 

With one hard thrust, you feel your tip smash against her cervix. Pull back out, and Heejin's walls desperately clench around you—her desire to milk you is strong. Your lips move down to suck at her neck.

Yet another hard thrust, you slam into her core at an insane trajectory; Heejin's womb sucks you in—

“Owh, gawd, you're gonna cum so much deeper”—you bring your fingers to the back of her mouth—“mmh, I can ph-pheel iiit—”

—as if begging you to fill her womb. The fistfuls of bedsheet fail to provide enough resistance; the floodgate unlocks.

“Take my cum, you fucking slut.” You pair your words with animalistic growls as you pound her hard enough to squeeze your seeds through the needy opening of her womb. “You're nothing but a pathetic cockslut. Look at how your womb is sucking me in. I bet that's the only thing your worthless pussy is good for—to be bred by taken cocks.”

You expect her to protest; she doesn’t. You spread her cheeks apart, spitting between them; it’d be rude, but it’s aimed at her tight, winking asshole. Again, you expect more of a response when your thumb toys at the ring of flesh. Shaky breaths through her breathing orifice while all the others get filled, she indulges in her cock-drunkenness—capable of doing nothing but pitiful whimpers. As you hammer her down hard enough that she’s become part of the mattress, your thumb hooked at the temptation of her rear entrance, you fall into indulgence too.

“Fucking, fff, filling you, ugh, up!” With a sense of finality in this thrust, you turn Heejin’s womb into the promised creamy mess. Her asshole has wholly swallowed your thumb. Grasping the sheets as hard as you grasp her asscheek, she is silent as she endures the endless spurts of warmth in her tummy. 

Keep pumping. Don’t stop till you're as devoid of your seed as your soul.

At the same time, you retrieve your thumb and your cock from her two greedy holes. Your cum is leaking out of Heejin’s slit, between her thighs, onto your sheets. Her asshole dilates, contracts. Those two facts alone nearly drive you to continue the madness; maybe you could collect the slick semen as lube for anal. However, despite your dick in hand, tip rubbing against her asshole, you stop yourself.

With a resolve like you’ve never seen (or at least one you haven’t had in hours), you sprint your way to the shower. Any cure to your sickness. But this shower will fix a shattered mug as readily as it’ll fix any other problem. Fatigue sets in, claws deeper, and no amount of scathing hot water on your skin gets rid of it. You switch to cold—you shout—that wasn’t worth it either.

Your world falls apart like warm streams splitting against you. How cruel the accuracy in its manner. Look into the wall. A faint, blurry reflection of you off the wet surface. The reflection clarifies: you’re a dumbass. This heat does nothing it’s supposed to, not a tinge of mollification in its heat.

“Hey, Daddy—”

You did not notice Heejin sneaking into the shower, but the change in her hairstyle is certainly apparent. Now flaunting a ponytail—Hyunjin’s signature and a personal favorite of hers—you hate to admit that Heejin looks equally as alluring, if not more so. She’s only in her panties, and those must be semen-coated. Sure enough, when she strips them onto the bathroom floor, she’s still dripping pearly and sticky fluids from her crotch.

“How could you leave for the shower alone, I have to clean up too, you know?”

She takes up the space between you and the wall, and she quickly finds herself on the ground. Her legs wide open, Heejin fingering herself is now a scenery you’re forced to enjoy. One digit deep, then another joins the fray—she slowly fingers your cum out of her swollen cunt.

“It’s not too late to stop me,” Heejin smirks as she is relentless in teasing you. “Unless you really want to put a baby in me.”

Now with eyes shut and mouth agape, she cherishes the pleasure she’s bringing to herself. The unoccupied hand finds itself on the ground for support as she buries her fingers deeper inside her folds. Heejin’s hedonism elevates; her tongue sticking out in the air is the proof.

The droplets bounce off your body to land on Heejin's features, and for a moment, she looks adorable as she shakes the excess moisture off, giggling. But then, she’s right back, immersed in her masturbation.

Your cock finds its vitality again at such a lewd sight; Heejin need not open her eyes to realize it. Further extending her tongue to reach the thing sheltering her from warm water, she licks your tip as if encouraging you to follow the motion of her pink muscle. So, you do just that. However, she clearly isn't ready for the intrusion, her teeth grazing against your skin as you head straight for her throat.

The damned downward frown, again, and this time it's here to stay. Pressing on with the pattern of showing no mercy, you rock your hips to properly violate her mouth. The warmth from the shower pales in comparison with her cavern, and her tongue tickles the bottom of your shaft better than the water droplets bring relief to your figure. Her sloped brows scream starvation just like her pleading eyes. This isn’t a matter of wants—you have to feed her cock. As much as she can swallow. Even if it means her gagging and sloppily eating the meat.

“Guhk—your cum—guhk, musht taste as guhd as your cohk—didn’t, ghlk, get to eat earlieh”—her tears fuse with the shower water and the drool out the corner of her mouth past your shaft—“I, I, glk, need more. Need more, more, mo—”

At this point, you're already used to her insatiability, fixing it with a yank of hair. Ponytails are amazing, especially when they're presented like this as a perfect handle for you to hold on to as you fuck her face rough. Each time your cockhead hit the back of her mouth, giggles mix obscene swishing and gurgling noises straight from her throat, and her cute tits ripple softly at the force. 

There's no room in her mouth for air, so it's only natural that she opts for the natural way of obtaining oxygen. She inhales through her nose with your cock still hidden in her mouth, making her throat do swallowing motions and squeeze around your shaft. The water splashing down on her face makes her breaths uneven and struggled since she’s trying to breathe down your dick in the same motion, but she embraces the challenge since there’s nothing more important than the cock down her throat anyway.

“Oh fuck—” You groan at the random fluctuations of tightness. “You’re such a good fuckdoll. Good oral fuck hole.”

You’re not sure where you got the verbiage from, though Heejin has the closest thing to a smirk she can manage with her lips around the root of your cock. Regardless, you can tell that she’s happy with the new nickname—her tongue moving with more furiosity makes good supporting fact.

Heejin’s looks are out of this world—even when there’s a cock in her mouth. You even feel a new pang of guilt: she’s too pretty somehow for your seed to cover her features. The pangs of guilt are quickly overtaken by pangs of impending orgasm. On her face? In her mouth? You would decide, but there is no decision. Keep your tip down her throat. The pleasure is getting too intense, and orgasm soon hits. It makes sense that she wants to savor your cockmilk, but her twirling tongue proves to be too much overstimulation for you. Your body jerks, so you instinctively eject from her eager mouth to spray the rest of your load on her face. This climax ends quickly; it’s your third one after all.  While you are regaining your composure, Heejin is busy creating a composition of your cum that was all over her visage, collecting with her fingers and tongue and then finally delivering it beyond her lips.

“So fucking tasty,” she comments after one big gulp. “Now let’s really clean ourselves up.”

The following minutes are filled with mutual silence—you do your cleaning and she does hers. No further touching. You’re in quiet denial—not of the unfaithfulness up to this point but of the surprising comfort you feel in the silence only broken by the splashing of water.

You both finish washing at the same time, so you shut the shower off. Stare at Heejin. Water droplets drip off her silky smooth skin. You can’t be staring yet again; that’s going to lead to an n-th round of sex. Forget morals, you’re not going to have a rigid bone left in your body if you keep fucking Heejin. Your mouth rounds to a circle while she smiles at you. 

Without worrying about the faint trail of water you’re making in your hallway, you speed off to the bedroom to look for some extra underwear and clothes to lend to Heejin. On second judgment, how absurd the concept. Surely, Hyunjin is going to notice the missing clothes, and surely, Heejin is going to wear the missing clothes the next time they meet.

Raising your hands, you fall onto your mattress. You’re naked. Didn’t bother looking for your own clothes. Whatever. Why even care about Heejin at this juncture at all? If she wants to leave naked, then so be it, or if she wants to wear her used panties sticky with your creampie, then so be it too.

Sure enough, she walks calmly into the room, semen-stained underwear and all, a towel around her head to dry those damp locks falling past her shoulders.

You curl up in the bed, refusing to examine Heejin further.

“This pillow belongs to someone else, I'm not sleeping on it.” Refusal will never stop Heejin’s low voice from worming its way past your ears straight into your brain.

Rather weak reasoning, sure, but you're in no place to object given everything that's happened tonight. With a sigh, you turn to face her and extend your arm; Heejin lies on it, filling the emptiness between her neck and the mattress just fine. 

“Mmh, it's comfy this way,” Heejin murmurs as she curls her curves into you. “Does she do this with you after sex?”

Silence fills the room for seconds; she nudges you for an answer that she knows she shouldn’t expect.

“Ha, didn't think so.”

That’s not even true, of course. Intimacy after sex isn’t an entirely new concept to you—that’s the one thing that stands out with Hyunjin in bed—but it’s so foreign with a different person. Sniffle her hair; it’s rosy. You wrap your free hand around her waist; she’s significantly smaller in your arms than Hyunjin. Usually, Hyunjin kept her back facing you, and though you adored having her as the little spoon, something was always missing. Details, details, details. So your silence continues all the same.

“You’re enjoying this,” Heejin whispers, “aren’t you?” 

Heejin turns around to face you, her delicate fingers tracing along and tickling the bare flesh of your neck at the same pace as her breath. How can the delicate touch of air be a chokehold? Yet, that’s exactly what Heejin has on you.

“Now why don’t I make you feel better, Daddy?”

Lifting your leg over her hips, Heejin has your half-erect shaft between her thighs, her slick slit shows haste in lathering you with her juices. All the recollection you’ve been doing, every hard-fought bucket of water you bail out of the hole-ridden ship, yet you forget your whole relationship in an instant. You doubt even Heejin understands the harshness of such a simple action, dragging any hope back into the ocean, cruel mistress. Moan into her mouth, and she returns the same. Finally, undo the seal on your mouth; you continue fucking her soft muscles in a telegraphed motion.

“Heejin is gonna sleep, she’s exhausted.” She smirks, that damned smile damning you to do more unspeakable things to, and with, her. “You can use Heejin’s body all night long though. I am your good little cocksheathe, after all.”

This is the actual biggest difference when you cuddle Heejin. Your cock slips inside her creamy slit so easily. It couldn’t have been an accident, yet Heejin is as motionless as sleep can make her. So is it your fault? No. It couldn’t have been. There’s no way you would have thrust yourself inside the addicting, delectable, squeezing hole for one last savoring. Right?

You must lay still as Heejin’s seed-stuffed hole continues to seize your half-hard shaft. Too sensitive, too sore, too spent. But not enough to leave. You’d think that by now, you can’t have any energy left to keep your erection lasting, but her walls warm your cock just well enough that you’re helpless to the loving embrace. If you did try to pull out of her possessively grippy pussy, you’d probably spurt another few drops, simultaneously milking your last breaths out of you.

So, pulling out is as much an option as the sun failing to rise in a few hours.

When your eyelids are yanked open by that inconsiderate light, you are alone in your bed. 

Your first instinct is to check your wallet. All your cards, your cash, a random Subway coupon. Down one condom though. Stretch, and your body disagrees. The only evidence is the sheer exhaustion in your muscles. And your balls.

 You didn’t drink.

You’ve never had a worse hangover.

No, no, it was all a dream—you wish. You could get away with being scolded for your dreams. This was a whole different beast.

Your focus is pulled by a buzz by your legs. Reach for your phone.

One. One. One. Five. A date. Naturally.

Heejin started following you. 

She’s not even in the same room as you. It’s so easy to ignore.

Then again, it’s just as easy to open the messages and type away.

Hyunjin won’t be home for a few more days anyway.

Say you sent it to the wrong person if need be.

Or you were with the wrong person to begin with.

No.

There is no wrong person.

Only the person in the wrong.

You.

Sent a message to Heejin.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Thank you again to the wonderful @kaedewrites for working with me on this one! You don't understand how much I enjoy every collab. They always drive me to write way more than working alone. Writing is always a collaborative affair, after all. It's just annoying whenever the only person I have to work with is my dumb past self, who refuses to finish these stories for me.

First measured in nanometers, electromagnetic waves transmute into meter-long air oscillations as sound shares light’s prismatic temper. "You had to send that in the group chat." Your tone is kindred to the two girls’ demeanour: annoyed, testy, like the restive, red-biased hue.

Bora sits at the edge of the bed. Her eyes could blast lasers, cook lasagna to a crisp. Tap. Tap. Her feet are purposeful and slow—a bit faster, now the count is in beats per minute. Fifty, forty-five, a dreary Largo. The rhythms accompany an implied song, a dirge that should not have percussion, yet the floor is a drum to Bora regardless.

Minji kneels and crosses her arms. The submissive stance runs counter to her irked brows, pouty lips. Nipples light and half-stiff in spite (or maybe because) of the cooking pot pressure of the enclosed space. Neatly trimmed so that your focus is on the tummy above and the sinuous folds below. You’re in full male gaze now but think of it as inspecting for clientele feedback. That’s why you’re writing it down so precisely in your memories, laser engraving every subtle line of her tits, her lithe arms. For work. Definitely. Professionals look out for professionals.

Direct your attention back to Bora. That same experienced eye discerns the contrast in her curves to Minji’s. Filled further in both of her money-makers—ass and tits—yet they command a comparable cost. Different strokes. She has writing along her cleavage. Are those notes? Closer inspection (not too close, not right now) gives a glimpse of a few words: three, Amazon, harsher. Of course, the woman would write notes on her own body.

The earth spins too slowly, the sun’s scaffolding too sound; it hangs in the sky for uncountable time. You expect a retort by now. The air conditioning is at full blast, yet sweat drips down all three of you.

Bora almost falls off the bed, leans forward, and words fail when she tries to explain. The anger between the two girls only forces your erection to admit itself, and you want to exclaim that the whole situation is silly when everyone’s stripped down to the bare essentials.

“I—”

Just when Bora finally finds her message and parts her lips, Minji interrupts. "I was first! Open your phone right now.”

She isn’t wrong. However, Bora was much closer, already at the hotel restaurant when she called you up. Even the express tunnel took an hour or so for Minji to get here. No sense in arguing because it was all your fault regardless: you made the final mistake of giving both of them your room number after much dawdling. Hindsight tells you to have canceled with each of them, maybe postpone for tomorrow, but hindsight’s a dead concept in these times—at least, that’s your excuse.

“Oh, so it’s gonna be like that, huh?” Bora says to Minji.

You puff up your cheeks, storing air to blow out dramatically, exasperated. “Yeah, yeah, you’re all mad, look. Since we’re all naked and, as it seems, in the mood anyway, how about we compromise?”

The two of them glare at you for the disgusting profanity. The world’s a concession, so get over it, you wish you could say. Again, you keep quiet since you find no sense in starting further arguments.

“There’s no point hiding shit between us, is there?” Your eye contact with each of them is to search for approval. Both are empty with an emotion you can’t decipher. Increased anger? Understanding? Whatever. “Minji needs practice taking dick in her throat. Bora needs to practice taking dick in new ways. Ah, Amazon position," you say as your sight inevitably falls on Bora’s tits used as a canvas.

Their glares pierce the feeble filaments of your explanation.

"I-I, uhh, look. What? I’m sharing company secrets, not even secrets, really, to company employees. Who cares.”

Try not to fall—you’ve already tripped. The signals they send between each other are palpable. Smirks, slight nods. They see through your pretense.

Or at least they think they do. This is your most potent weapon. Give them a common foe, and they’ll come to that dirty word of compromise. No, Minji and Bora aren’t best friends, but they are the kind of friends who push each other. And sometimes those pushes are mean-spirited, a toe gets stubbed, some scrapes, but they’re always forward-facing shoves. Much better than your shared past.

They glance at each other, both skeptical but with fantastical sparks in their eyes, flashes of consideration dancing in their pupils. Even the hungriest of the pack would rather secure half a meal than risk no meal at all.

“Alright,” Bora mutters, the scowl on her face still prevalent but significantly less marked. “Are we sharing or not?”

“So impatient,” Minji retorts, her tone as sharp as ever. “But fine. I’ll pity you just this once. You need the practice anyway.”

Bora’s jaw sets into a tight line, taut and irritated, her mind eagerly snatching up ammunition for an equally petty reply. It’s one you won’t allow, not tonight, not on your terms. It’s an easy endeavor to shut her up: you kiss her, silence her lips, angrily tangle your tongues, and overall overpower her until she’s forced to back down with a whimper. Then, the tide of their aggression ebbs away, both of them taken aback, clear as the heat that singes the earth above you. Let go of Bora’s chin, shove her onto her back.

“That’s enough.” You growl, glaring at both of them. “Do you want this or not?”

A clear threat. It rings in their ears like an alarm bell, a homeostatic imbalance that screams negative feedback. Though they’re aware your need equals theirs, the risk of loss is simply too overpowering.

So they act fast.

Minji, still on her knees, crawls from the other end of the room. Her usual grace is gone. Instead, she’s on her knuckles, desperate to get a piece of you before Bora eats you up.

But it’s too late. Bora gets up from the mattress, grabs your shoulders, and pushes you onto the bed to replace herself. Your legs flop off the side, and any fight you have dies with Bora’s ass firmly planted on your thigh.

You gather yourself, trying to pay attention to both at once, turning your head to watch Minji; however, Bora’s body is too warm, too close for you to ignore, and the feverish heat within you shreds your patience. It’s a futile venture, and Bora knows it.

She smirks, trailing a finger down your chest before she slowly grinds her bare pussy on your leg, an indulgent moan escaping her lips.

“Fuck,” Bora murmurs. Her head is pitched back, her hair flowing down her back in a cascade of silky brown. Her eyes are shut while a smile paints her face. “The first bite is always the sweetest.”

The mesmerizing sound of Bora’s soft moans and the dripping of her arousal onto your skin monopolize your focus, erasing the other in the room from your vision. But then the silent prayer, the quiet, almost imperceptible hum from Minji’s throat, draws you out of your Bora-induced stupor.

The two contrast in approach and tact: Bora is forceful and blunt; Minji is calm and strategic. She begs and pleads, but not with her words. Instead, with fluttering eyes, Minji looks up at the foot of the bed, sees your own feet, and plants light pecks up your free leg. And the eye contact intent flummoxes you: she wants to be in charge but wants to cede it to you as soon as she gets that control. Whines and pouts, Minji puts her soul into wresting your attention towards her.

Competition taking over, Bora gives a light kick to Minji’s shoulder as she bears her weight down on your leg, humid and heavy, a comfortable balance to Minji’s tug on the opposite side.

“Mwah, mwah.” Minji makes a point of her having her kisses up your shaft be as loud and sloppy as possible, then stops beneath your cockhead, cooing happily while rubbing her lips. “Such a gorgeous dick. Mmwah.” A short peek of her tongue laps up the spit that her smooches drool. Finally, Minji grabs your cock, slaps it on her tongue, and makes the bubbles of saliva splash and dance with joy.

“Fuck,” you groan. “Fuck, that’s good.” It’s something straight out of your wildest dreams, the erotic sounds that ring in your ears, the familiar yet exquisite feeling of Minji’s lips wrapped so messily around your cock. “T-try to… ah… use your tongue more.”

There’s no response, nothing audible, but the juxtaposition of thick, honey-like warmth to the semi-cool air of the room on your shaft is enough to tell you she’s listening if only to hear your moans.

Tips, you think. I need to give Minji tips. But fuck is it hard to process, to get even a single coherent thought past your mental facilities. Minji is such a fast learner, and she grasps the concepts you throw at her so quickly that you suspect she was only pretending in her mediocrity, only toying with you.

“R-rhythm,” you choke out, words that fall from your lips as your brain grasps for straws. “Stay m-more… hah… consistent.”

The quirk of her eyes is quizzical, and Minji tilts her head despite its preoccupation with your stiff cock in her mouth. A muffled “hm?”

“It means you’re shit at giving head,” Bora snarks, picking up on her confusion. “You think roleplaying as a slobbering puppy counts as a blowjob?”

Minji ignores her, though if the tightening of her lips is any indication, she’s more riled up than she lets on.

Actions speak louder than words, and Minji testifies to that with her efforts redoubled, trying new things with her throat; she hums and moans, swishes her head from side to side, rolls her eyes up into her head all while she plunges your cock into the deepest depths of her warm, tight, wet mouth.

Your hands grip the base of her ponytail tightly. Her eyes water as they meet yours, dark and runny with mascara before you release her, though she obediently remains glued to your shaft, still spluttering and choking all over.

It’s a moment of bliss quickly disrupted, however; while you might be in heaven, Bora is unsatisfied with purgatory. Her frustrations pile up second by second until she’s at a breaking point, the rutting of her hips on your thigh no longer enough to placate her desire.

“When’s it gonna be my turn, hmm? You better not fucking cum yet,” she hisses.

Her words almost entirely fly past you, and it’s only when you notice how her nails dig into your skin lightly—when you notice how her breasts are so soft and fluffy on your chest, when you notice the growing pool of sticky fluid on your thigh—that you pay attention. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I promise I’ll—”

Hold it in. Hold it. Despite all your comments about Minji’s oral technique, stars start to fall; you’re unsure if they’re merely a construct of the wavering mind or actual meteors outside: both equally destructive and plausible.

“Minji, please. I need you to hold off a-and when I tell you to do something...”

Somehow, a smirk on Minji’s cock-busy lips until she finally releases your glistening length with a gasp and a moan. “Fuck, your cock is delicious,” she murmurs, her voice reverent and soft, sultry and alluring. “It feels so good choking on it.”

“Oh, please.” Bora scoffs. “That was hardly anything.”

Minji’s eyes narrow. “Don’t be jealous just because he wants me on his cock instead of you.”

“That’s only because you’re hogging him to yourself!”

“Excuses, excuses,” Minji laughs. “You just can’t take this dick like I can. It’s okay to admit that.”

A roll of Bora’s eyes. “God, you’re such a brat sometimes.”

Her stare is sharp, irritated, and narrowed while Minji’s gaze stays light, airy, and placid with lids wide open.

“What’s that mouth to these tits, huh?” Bora scoots up, fills your face so that you have no choice but to taste her pillowy flesh. She stirs on your leg. The folds of her slit, slick. “Or this pussy? Hmm?”

With locked knees, a hand behind Minji’s head, her arms around your waist, your length pushes past a series of subtle locks in her throat. A bit of drool like a canal.

“Dammit, I need this cock too. What a needy whore of a mommy,” Bora says as she looks at Minji teasing your shaft with puckered plosive lips, ppuh.

“You know, calling me names like that”—Minji drags her tongue up, slurps down—”is only gonna make me wetter.”

“Like I care,” she retorts. “Fucking slut.”

It’s a crown, a goddamn accolade to Minji as she ignores Bora’s heated glare, her mouth filled with stiff cockmeat. If anything, it only makes her more determined to suck the life out of you, and her cheeks hollow around your shaft, each lost layer of saliva replaced with two more until her face and hands are a mess of sticky globs of spit and ruined makeup.

“Good girl,” you huff out. Your hands stroke her hair kindly as she bears your length down her throat, holding herself there obediently despite the glk, glk, glk of her gag reflex’s protests. “Fuck, ah, mommy, that’s f-fucking perfect.”

“Take it,” Bora chimes in. “Take all of his fucking dick down your slutty throat, you whore.”

There’s no breath, no room, no sound Minji can possibly make to respond, so she settles for a weak gurgle when Bora grips her by the hair; she forcefully slams her face down into your stomach, a muffled cross between a shriek and a gasp silenced near-instantaneously.

The shock of it all would stun Minji, even if she had steadily become well-adjusted to your length. You don’t even have the breath to curse as Bora gives Minji’s helpless face a shove, then two, three, before she simply yanks Minji off of you. It’s a power vacuum that opens up, a new niche in your delicate ecosystem, and one that Bora occupies with a hunger, a drive to consume; she’s a whirlwind of biological instinct, bearing down on you and leaving a lustrous trail from your thighs past your crotch. What was already shiny with Minji’s saliva is now mixed with the varnish of Bora’s lips. Those folds entice you to assume responsibility, but you practice restraint; if you fucked your cock up into Bora without warning, there was no telling of the consequences. Hold in a bated breath, like you’re trying not to drown, which only unwinds when she weighs down on your stomach.

But one moment she’s the weight, then she’s suddenly the aggressor: beneath your legs, her arms hook so that your legs straddle her waist. She’s deceptively strong for her frame, and caution keeps your mouth shut; your confusion gives way to nonchalance. Did either of you really care all that much about the method as opposed to the means?

On the side of the bed, you notice the vexed furl of Minji’s brows, her hands through her hair, pulling on it in frustration: Minji wants to protest, wants to put up a fight, but any dispute, physical or argumentative, would be lost as she barely has a breath to catch and a gagged mess of spit and tears and sweat on her lips.

Not that you have much of a fight either, with Bora now firmly in control of your legs. She doesn’t need to say words; they’re written on her tits—Got three complaints. Need to be harsher. Amazon position. Lying on the mattress, your legs pulled up and your knees almost together, Bora squats above you. Her breasts squeeze between your calves in the air, and though you focus on the plentiful glossy flesh squishing words into scribbles—focus until dreams of that promised titjob overtake your thoughts—you can’t ignore how she bends your cock forward with her hands.

On your back, forced into docility, you’re unsure precisely what Bora was having trouble with, why she would need help at all. So instead of commenting, giving advice, breaking the scene, you play the part. “M-ma’am, are you going to put it in?”

Bora grunts, and the sound you let out at the sensation of her contrastingly delicate folds is higher, almost pathetic compared to her. “I’m not sure if you deserve it. Not giving your dick to me first.” Her free hand plays your nipples, one at a time, then trails up to your neck, sharp nails and all. Bora leaves a light red scratch mark on your jaw, which she holds crudely to make you look her straight in the eyes, not her tits. When she sees pre-cum drip from your slit, all because of a light graze, she slaps the sweat off your cheeks.

“I need it,” you whine out. “I need you so badly.”

A thumb on one cheek, the outer fingers on the other, both drive and grasp with an uncomfortable harshness that makes you drool. “Usually, begging like a little bitch works for you. Not sure what it is this time. Maybe it’s hearing this other slut whining so pathetically for your dick. Whatever. You’re my toy right now, understand? No sounds from you. Nod if you understand.”

No hesitation. Finally, Bora gives your strained cock its relief; ironic how relief comes in the form of pressure. With flexuous, loving force, she bears down and insists her warm flesh walls upon your shaft.

The mattress doesn’t feel as soft as it should. It could be from the intense gaze that tenses your whole body up as much as your cock, but it’s more likely the way her pussy throttles your shaft. An incomparable plushness. In and out. No consideration, no sacrifice for your comfort, Bora fucks herself onto your dick with the same care as a disposable dildo, and you, in the emasculating position, find your head emptier and emptier along for the ride. The characters on her Bora’s boobs bounce up and down, and you ascertain no meaning despite how hard you stare. And stare you do, immersed in the rhythmic waves of her body, her hips which slide so fluidly, her grasp on your cock, waning and waxing.

“Fuck, you’re doing such a good—” Spit gets in your mouth.

Bora looks mad, but you can’t tell; now there’s spit in your eyes. You’re unsure if you’re thankful that Bora is still riding or scared at what she might do next. The movement of her waist transitions from that self-serving swinging to a more aggressive hop, driving your back into the cushion.“What part of ’shut the fuck up’ did you not understand? Huh, toy?”

You hold back a deep groan that gurgles from your lungs by holding your own neck with your hands.

“That’s it. Know your place, whore.” Bora takes your wrists in her hands and pins you down tighter.

It’s not a unique experience to be on the receiving end of Bora’s fire and brimstone, but it’s certainly the first time you haven’t been allowed to retaliate in kind. Of course, she’s still an efficient, wild machine, her hips plump and forceful, solid and thick against your skin, but the enlightened weightlessness of your resignation heightens each ripple of her thighs as she crashes down onto you.

Words bubble up to your lips like steam from a geyser, but you choke them down; each time you want to flip her over and fuck her at your own pace, you have to swallow the urge. The suppression doesn’t help your endurance, strains your mental facilities until you’re sure your face is as red as a tomato.

At least you’re allowed to moan.

“Look at you.” She growls, her face inches from yours and equally flushed. “Look at you gasping, begging for this pussy. Do you regret choosing Minji first, hmm? Do you regret it now?”

Weakly, you struggle in her grasp, trying to pry your arms out of her pinioning hold, but it’s a fruitless effort. She smirks, though it’s evident in her hitched breaths that your cock is taking a toll on her as well.

“F-fuck, you’re lucky… your cock feels, haah, so good,” she pants out. If she’s tired, her arms aren’t showing it as you try once again to break out of this willing prison of restraint.

A moan draws you out of your tired battle, distant yet near; it’s a luscious set of thighs and calves that attract your eyes while another whimper escapes the lips of the one forgotten on the sidelines.

Bora simply laughs.

“What a slut.” Bora’s grin grows wider, though temporarily split by the spark jolted through her body by your cock. “A-ah, look at you.” She points at Minji, her legs spread wide, her fingers stuck up her glistening pussy. “Fucking slut, jerking off to this. You, haah, y-you wish you could fuck this cock like me.”

Minji’s too out of it to respond and instead rubs her clit to induce another bout of mindless mewls and whimpers. But why would she have words? She lost—end of story. And somehow, in that loss, she finds a perverse pleasure. Her eyes are cracked open; they watch Bora’s hips drive themselves down onto your cock, watch your eyes roll into your head while Bora simultaneously shatters both of your sanities.

“You want to sit on his dick, don’t you? You… a-ah, you want him… to f-fuck you like a little whore of a mommy, don’t you?”

“Mhm!” Minji whines through lips pursed too late.

“That’s right, hah. You fucking—You were always like… This dick.” The more it slides past Bora’s cunt lips, getting sorer and clingy, the more that heavy breaths take over Bora’s words until her speech is a sentence of gasps punctuated by groans. Bora’s back and forth swing slows down, her face less severe, and fingers don’t press so hard into your chest that you can feel the bones on your muscles. So she’s just as human as you are.

“Fuck, my mouth is so dry,” you say, your cock soaked silly with Bora’s juices.

“Me too.” When Bora sticks her tongue out, you take a nibble of it; close your eyes, but the wet kiss isn’t enough.

Minji gets up from her enraptured position and fetches a bottle of water from the hotel fridge—probably way too expensive for a bottle of water, considering they’ve got desalination down while sea levels are through the literal roof. In this respite moment, you take deliberate breaths as Bora’s grip on your shaft relaxes. That secretly jealous pussy even lets you go, but her fingers still curl around you to keep you hard.

“Thank fuck Yoohyeon doesn’t need practice too. My dick would really be exhausted.”

“Nah, she wouldn’t get jealous,” Bora says.

“You sure about that?” Minji asks.

“I didn’t mean exhaustion from jealousy.” You shake your head. “I meant the fact I only have one dick. Yeah, yeah, I know, get the extra implant. We’re not that far ahead that I trust mods wholly. We still live in fucking fish bowls."

"That’s fair. And I heard it’s kind of an overload having two dicks. That’s the most sensitive part. I can’t imagine multiplying that by two,” Minji says.

"Isn’t that what it’s like with you already?" Bora says. "Considering how sensitive those nipples are."

"I play it up a bit for the clients, you know." So she must want you to test that.

"Hmm." You motion to Minji. "Come here."

She’s obedient, though her demure bashfulness is an exciting ingredient added to the frothing mix, a tasteful respite in contrast to Bora’s all-encompassing control. Hands cup your face, soft and gentle; her kisses taste like home, an easy comfort to sink into, to lose yourself in. Yes, it’s messy and loud, wet and improvisatory. But mutualism, not parasitism, is the difference between Bora and Minji.

It’s by third-party intervention that you remember that respite is temporary, that breaks are short intermissions between hard labor, and by god, does Bora put you back to work. Somehow, you end up on the floor as she replaces Minji yet again, the firm muscle and sinew of her body displacing any semblance of fluffy sweetness.

And yet, the parasite returns. Though perhaps, if you really thought about it, wasn’t that you?

Minji whines and pouts from over the bed as Bora glares down at you, frustrated with your constant magnetism to Minji, irritated at your subconscious stubbornness in choice. Is it choice? Instinct? It doesn’t matter, you decide. Your cock is in Bora’s hands, after all.

Bora doesn’t even need to say a word, not with that scowl on her face, not with the way she effortlessly puts you on your back again, entwines your legs around her waist. Even the way she fucks herself onto you is evidence of her displeasure, harsh and angry, and all you can do is grunt, groan, try not to get overwhelmed by the tightness of her wet cocksleeve.

Your eyes close, flutter open and shut, over and over and over again. The world should not spin at this speed, yet it does as Bora clenches and clenches.

“F-fuck, fuck, haah,” you breathe out. Though your body stiffens in anticipation of Bora’s admonishment, it never comes. So you push the limits again. “Minji, come over h-here.”

“Stay focused on me,” Bora says, “or else.”

“Or else what?” You don’t say that convincingly enough.

Bora puts her fingers down your throat. “Going to turn you into a messy whore just like mommy over here if you keep getting distracted. But we might as well use our little fucktoy over her.”

Reluctant, Minji licks up her own juice from her hands, then slips close, crawls down from the bed, and leans to Bora’s pistoning body with wanton interest, the look of a pining lover. Their eyes meet. In defiance of animosity, the accursed word rings loud and true in their ears yet again.

Compromise.

When Bora finally releases, you gag out spit around Bora’s digits. “What… what do you want?” Minji asks, inches from her face.

“I think our boy over here wants a show. I’m not sure he deserves it, but I don’t care. I just wanna have some fun at this point. So while I fuck myself onto my dildo, I need you to give me a little extra pleasure, Minji.” At first, Minji doesn’t know where to start—neither does your mind when Bora slams her ass down, pussy a chokehold on your cock—but once Bora settles into a rhythm, the obedient woman lunges forward to make out with her.

She plays with Bora’s tits where her more modest ones still jiggle at the sympathetic force of Bora riding you wildly. The hard floor is naturally much less comfortable: your back needs to arch, and your head ends up knocking every time she weighs down on you, yet your cock only twitches more at how Bora delights in your difficulty. It twitches in the confines of her wetness, and it twitches at Minji’s renewed enthusiasm. Her hands play with Bora’s tits while she kisses the neck with hunger. Lips lower until Minji can taste the words on milky skin, licking like her tongue could clean the characters straight off.

The heat ramps, internal and external. Eventually, it’s too much, even for Bora, who gets off your dick for another breath. She drags herself up towards the bed and loses her dominant image for a second. Panting breaths from her lips. You can see the creamy glint of her pussy, the nearly frothy mess of white that lines your cock. It’s the prize for patience; it’s Van Gogh’s Starry Night (before they digitized it); it makes you want to ram your dick impatiently before she even gets up on the bed. Minji can sense your hunger, but more personal temptations have her eagerly touching herself on the side of the bed while you ready your cockhead to enter Bora once more for her doggystyle offer.

Push forward, Bora’s now slovenly slit swallowing your dick with ease. Minji’s eyes stray from Bora’s swinging tits as your pounding pace quickens, and her tongue unconsciously falls from her mouth. You mouth “come here,” and Minji squirms between Bora’s limbs without question. If only you had a mirror at the headrest to see her smirk now.

Though you’re standing behind Bora on her hands and knees, she is no less in charge. Another part of it is comparison’s sake—how quickly the other desperate woman lies underneath for a taste of your dick, even if it’d more likely be the taste of Bora’s fluids by now. Minji’s head hangs off the edge of the bed, her tongue out to tempt you. But the little whimpers and upside-down pouts can’t pull your cock away from Bora, can’t stop her from backing her ass up. Despite one hand on her thighs—the other is busy with a finger between Minji’s suckling lips—the speed and force at which those pussy lips engulf your entire self leave you helpless. Bora is the conductor of the complex symphonic rhythm. That one hand is as ice-still as the rest of you. She drives the weight of her thick ass and thighs into you, her pussy a jealous sheathe, squeezing your cock as though you might leave too long if it didn’t.

It’s a fair assumption. Minji pulls herself up, core workouts paying off, yet she only receives a few licks of your cock, too focused on matching Bora’s intensity. And it is your cock focused on the heat of it all, not you. Your mind is far beyond this melting, dying world, all because of the severe heaven Bora gives. All because of how she tightens her legs, sending pressure to your dick, and sucks up the fluids, the pre-cum for herself. The bed creaks, the bed shivers, and the variegated lights dance on her back to overwhelm your every sight and sound sensor.

Nerves mired in excitement, you’re a malfunctioning spaceship in dead orbit or empty vacuum; you are equivalent to the earth you made. (Why does the unsettling thought of the past always come up in these moments?) Minji, dick-starved, grabs your legs closer so that she can at least get your balls into her mouth. Swinging and active and tensing up, she has to give your testicles as much care as possible if she wants you to even have a chance of remembering her.

Bora looks back at you and clasps her fingers tight on Minji’s thighs, and she shudders, even giggles a bit. Then, while maintaining that relentless back and forth pace on your cock, Bora trails up to Minji’s crotch, and with no notice, thrusts fingers inside while she kneads the clit. “This is my dick,” Bora says, a slight frown that she can’t address Minji directly.

“Mmph! Aack.” A clump of gag-spit from Minji onto the floor. “F-fuck, you’re being so rough. You’re supposed to be training him, not… Nnf, not me. Can’t I at least taste some of him?”

“Girls, please—” Your speech staggers when Bora bucks her hips up in a way that stimulates your dick’s tip remarkably smoothly “—haah, fuck. When I fill up Bora’s pussy—”

She whips her head back. “Hey, who said I’m letting you—”

“You’re the one fucking your ass back into me like there’s no tomorrow.” To be fair…

“Ugh, fine. J-just, be a good fuck doll and tell me what you’re gonna do.”

“As I was saying, when I fill up Bora’s pussy, Minji,” you say, and she perks up, eyes big, “get a taste of my cum, eat Bora out like she’s eating you right now.”

You can’t imagine being in Minji’s place. There’s no such thing as exclusivity between the two of you, yet there once was. To be literally underneath the woman who made that relationship past tense must be conflicting: the very tongues and cock which betrayed her also prod her holes now. She must be even more conflicted than that, though—It’s not like she didn’t have her fair share of infidelity.

But while the emotions run high in an atmosphere that can’t support it, only the physical matters now. History fades much easier than hormones. The redder the sun, the sloppier each of you becomes. It’s less about control for Bora now, more about pleasure. Panting, sweating, messy wet pleasure. Sometimes there’s a break in your fucking rhythm to jab into Minji’s throat, and she welcomes the intrusion happily.

And so you repeat, pause, then resume this depraved continuity, a multi-faceted subject; the contrapuntal nature of Bora’s muffled moans and Minji’s frustrated whimpers are the voices that accompany your groans, the melodies that create this carnal fugue. Imbue it with passion, annoyance, joy, drama, and it’s everything any composer could ever have wanted; performers sweating, crying out their lines with the utmost honesty.

Bora’s lines are the least articulate, muffled by Minji’s dripping pussy stuffed in her face, almost as much as your cock is buried in Bora’s own warmth, though Minji’s free to sing and sing and sing, on and on as she hits every note perfectly. Pitch hardly seems to matter considering how effortlessly her voice slides across the register, up and down, alto to tenor to soprano.

You wait for it to come back down, to shimmer back down in waves of sound, but it doesn’t; her voice finally begins to waver and crack, her mouth hesitating around the edges of your shaft as her hands find purchase in the back of Bora’s thighs. Though you can’t see or feel the contractions of her core, can’t savor the wash of her juices that greet Bora’s lips like a geyser, you can still watch her body tremble, watch as her eyes roll up into her head while she mindlessly slobbers on your cock.

“S-shit,” Bora groans out, her tongue still licking and teasing away at Minji’s clit, ignoring her audible wails. “Pound me, a-ah...ah, haah, ah, fuck.”

There might even be a muted note of desperation in her voice, but you choose to ignore it and instead focus on her walls’ rhythm. It’s as though the symphony has gone mad and its conductor has fallen victim to crazed acceleration. Your cock isn’t in a position to complain, drenched in her folds yet still clenched down on tightly.

She must be tired; the locomotion of her body slows, though you make up the difference readily. Slam into her, a snap of the hips sharper than the sharpest staccato, and it’s the first time she lets out an audible shriek while her legs quiver.

“Oh, oh god, you better, ugh, haah, f-fuck me harder, you stupid toy.” The words contradict the complete lack of irritation.

But still, you play your part—can’t screw it up now. Your submission is practically muscle memory, a blur under the pressure, so you repeat the motif again, again, again, until Bora’s hips are hardly moving and she’s simply letting you rail her into the bed.

Even Minji, still twitching from Bora’s overstimulation, joins in, eagerly laps at Bora’s dripping cunt, an eye for an eye. Bora scrambles to stuff her face in a pillow, deaden the scream that escapes her lips as she climaxes on your cock with anything but poise and dignity.

Her quivers are like earthquakes, each pulse of her insides scrambling your own instrument, an overdose of rosin to your bow. The sound it produces is scratchy and rough, pulled from your throat unwillingly, an inevitable cadence that leads to the coda. The final chords strike in your stomach, ring out as your hips clash against Bora’s ass, once, twice, then nothing but stars as your climax arrives, nearly lost in the already frenzied chaos of bodies—the spike of excitement straight to your brain cannot be ignored. Pleasure wrought not only by the clamp that Bora has on your cock, but by the fullness of her ass that smacks back and the needy hands and lips of Minji underneath.

“Fuck.” The singular swear summarizes your myriad thoughts condensed into a burning gas ball of fusion. Your balls twitch.

For each ceaseless thrust, a shot in the dark. Cum fills Bora’s pussy more and more; her thirsty slit spills over, past the suction of your lips, creating its own lubrication to escape. Another rush to your head, and you hold onto her buttcheeks for dear life, spread them apart, let your cock pulsate to its heart’s content. Bora’s low, satisfied groans pale in comparison to Minji. Eaten out by Bora, given nothing but the residue semen your pistoning shaft impels out, it’s no wonder that Minji whimpers and mewls that audibly.

“Didn’t you have orders, Minji?”

Minji exits her trance with a wide-open mouth to catch the sticky stream that spills with every shove of your cock, but more and more of the milky load gets on her face—nothing wrong with that for you, but she cannot waste a single drop. So any last bit of reticence drops to the wayside as she exerts her abdominal strength to bring her mouth up to Bora’s pussy. It takes even more of Minji’s strength as Bora eats her out relentlessly, and it takes deft lips for Minji to catch your cum while your cock winds down its rampant ramming. Pulling out is a gradual process but one that Minji gives gratitude by kissing and licking your shaft on the way.

Bora’s knees and elbows slack, barely attempting not to crush Minji while the two of them lap each other up as though the competition never ended. An unfair confrontation since Minju gets the motivation to taste more of your seed. Having already had much fun with Bora’s pussy and Minji’s mouth, you join Bora at the head of the bed where a pile of pillows lies, where Minji’s legs quiver yet at Bora’s punishing fingering in addition to the lip service. Give Bora a kiss, give Minji’s pussy a kiss, and the slick and the drool would concoct a bar-worthy drink if Bora weren’t already enjoying her dessert for so long.

You’d think she would get tired at some point, but she only stops eating Minji out after Minji is done cleaning up the creampie flood. When Bora finally flops onto her back, lying next to Minji’s feet, you see Minji lean her head forward and show off her tongue—topped with cum one moment, gulp, perfectly clean the next.

Between you and Bora heaving and sighing, Minji sits up and looks at you two. “So.”

“So,” Bora replies.

They both look at you. “Fine, that wasn’t much of a training session at all.”

Minji giggles, crawling over you to sandwich you between her and Bora. Bora scoffs. You turn on your side towards her, but she turns too, facing away from you and towards the window. Then, when you flip to Minji, she has her frazzled hair in her hands and quickly falls asleep. Unsure, confused, you lie back and stare at the concrete ceiling, imagining stars.

Imagination manifests in more literal subliminal processes: Two simulations run on virtual memory, which temporarily overrides your consciousness and creates a split timeline at a turning juncture in the decision tree. After all the gratification, the first false reality seems too greedy because you cuddle with Minji for a smattering of praise and light kisses. Warmth falls like rain from her fingertips even as she takes you back inside her, and for a moment, there’s guilt and regret, the lamentation of the light you lost. It must be written in her eyes as well, a longing haze of slow-burning sex which clouds both of your judiciousness.

The second fabrication is bitter, angry, and purely lustful, your muscles coiled with frustration and annoyance. Why should Bora get to slap you around, tell you what you can and can’t do? After all, your desire is mutual. And so you push and push, seize your place back from her grasp. Your hands yank her by the hair and pin her down to the bed. She might scream, moan; you might join her in that, but what matters is the satisfaction at the end. That relief joins you in deep slumber on ruined sheets.

Inward. Downward. Your dreams lead you toward an unknown center, but there must be an endpoint. And therefore, your dreams slam you up into a lonely, wakeful truth in which no amount of glass outside can clarify the enigmatic machinations of Bora and Minji. The bed big enough for three is only filled with a single you. Frustration escapes you in one sigh; sleep reclaims you as your eyes close once again, as though the veil of darkness might hide you from the scorching brightness of the world outside.