#yuki

The sleep’s barely out of your eyes when the sensations take ahold of you. Her pretty little mouth, hot and wet, works you out like no other. Her tongue is magical, but what more are those eyes, siren-dark as she takes you in. 

“Good morning, handsome,” she says. The covers drape Yuki’s naked frame. The outside lamplight pours on her silhouette and makes her look like a succubus. “Had a good sleep?”

What a way to wake up. Those gorgeous lips pepper kisses all over your cock. Her hand closes around the base to gently jerk you off while she sucks all-too-cleverly at the tip. Yuki knows you inside and out. 

“I was,” you reply. Your hand sifts through her dark hair. “Until you came along and couldn’t wait to get me in your mouth.”

Yuki’s eyes shine with mischief. “Don’t tell me you’re complaining.”

“I’m not,” you say, and close your eyes as she takes you in her throat again.

Yuki is insane. Everything about her, from those dangerous eyes to the naked, plentiful tits pressing to your thighs, is a provocation. You remember staring at her in class, taking note of that glossy black hair and waist, then wondering—

How the hell do you do it?

She hid her confusion that one day with a charming smile. Nobody mustered the courage to talk to her; you were one of the few brave soldiers. Do what exactly?

I—I just don’t get it, you said. How the hell does a girl like you not have a boy on your arm? 

Yuki stepped closer, her voice dropping low. I dunno. How does a boy like you not have a girl like me on your cock?

After she’d drained the life out of you in the school bathroom, you figured out why: Yuki is fucking wild. Nobody could handle her. Many have tried, you found out—she told you about the multiple women and men she left broken. You’re the only one who stayed around.

Pity them. Now, they don’t get the opportunity to have her taking care of their morning wood. They don’t feel the expert suction of her mouth or her hard nipples against their flesh. They don’t see her eyes as entrancing as Medusa’s as you empty your load in her.

This girl just keeps you shaking. She doesn’t stop sucking until each heavy spurt ends up in her wet mouth. She provokes more hot semen with sharp licks, welcoming you into her throat again and again until you collapse on the pillows.

And it’s like nothing to Yuki. She opens her mouth, shows you the pool of cum that settles there, and swallows. “Mmm, better than any milk.”

There’s that smile again, wicked with the knowledge that you’re hers and no one else’s. 

“Jesus, Yuki…” Your heart thumps fast against your naked chest. “Good morning to you, too.”

-

You’re all smiles as you walk together arm in arm to class. You moved in with Yuki a long time ago; your old crummy dorm was no use if you spent all the hours of your life in her bed anyway. It’s a chic, tall house in a gated subdivision where everyone knows everyone. You insisted on paying half, but Yuki declined. “I have another house in Tokyo anyway,” she said nonchalantly, as if an inherited mansion was something everybody had. 

This was why she couldn’t wrap her head around why you didn’t want a twenty-dollar frappe. She’s nursing hers right now, manicured fingers gleaming against the wet plastic. “You sure you don’t want some?”

You shake your head.

“Aw, come on. You’ve had my tongue in your mouth, haven’t you? What’s keeping you off a shared straw?”

You choke. “I-it’s a frappe, Yuki. I prefer real breakfast.”

“Whatever, you’re boring,” says Yuki with a roll of her gorgeous eyes. It’s the kind of attitude a prefect would call her out for. Many monitor this hallway, but none of them dare correct her. 

“If I’m so boring, I wouldn’t be fucking you every night.”

“Keep it up and you’ll lose that privilege,” warns Yuki. One look at her fit body in that blue tank top and low-rise jeans—yeah, you’re not going anywhere. 

Your business classroom is right up the hall. From its door, a pretty head of auburn hair looks both ways until she spots you. Yeonhee. A girl with too little time in her hands, a bookbag weighing her down, and too cute for her own good. Just the sound of her stomping as she marches up to you is adorable. 

Yuki waves at her. They’re best friends who met in senior high school, inseparable ever since. And, since you’re friends with benefits with Yuki, that makes Yeonhee your friend, too. Friend-in-law? Friend by acquaintance? You’ve no idea, but you’re definitely not bringing her into whatever twisted dynamic you have with Yuki. Yeonhee’s too innocent for that.

“Hi, babe.”

 (Oh, another thing—you’re sure if you didn’t come into the picture, she and Yeonhee would definitely have been girlfriends. The affection is both way too intimate and casual at the same time.)

Yeonhee pouts at her. “Don’t babe me. You’re late!”

“Only by like fifteen minutes,” says Yuki. She shows her the sugary frappe. “Besides, I had to pick up breakfast. Want some?”

“Ew, no. I’m not sharing anything edible with you after that time.”

You blush. You know exactly what she’s talking about. One time, she stayed over at Yuki’s to study. Her roommate was gone and she was too afraid to review alone. She had just gone into the kitchen for some water when she saw her best friend blowing you. Your dinners were still untouched.

Yuki isn’t fazed by it. “Don’t be a prude. When’s the last time you had a good dicking down?”

Yeonhee glows bright red. She draws herself up the best she can in her sandals, clutching her notepad tighter. “For your information, I am not interested in partaking in debauchery. Being promiscuous would greatly damage my reputation in orgs.”

Yuki told you about this before. It’s something you’ve noticed, too. While her batchmates party and go out, Yeonhee stays in the library to read. The girl’s a damn saint.

And it’s so clear that it’s something she’d like to maintain down to nitpicking things. The clogged schedule taped to her notebook, the dialogue straight out of a committee letter, the ribbons in her hair…

“Has anyone told you you’re a little tense?” you ask as politely as you can.

Yeonhee pauses, deep in thought. She recalls all the moments she chose her grades before herself, a deadline over breakfast. She bites her lip. “O-only a few times.”

“A million times, actually,” Yuki corrects her. “Don’t you want to do something for yourself? Not for the professors or panelists? It won’t hurt you, ya know.”

Oh, but it would. Yeonhee’s already shivering at the idea of being out of a classroom. You’ve been standing here discussing the tension she’s carried all her life. Meanwhile, the professor’s probably gone over a million slides already. 

But she finds herself nodding in agreement. There’s no use denying it. She missed out on so many parties and fun. She abstained from the distractions of dating so much that the idea of letting a guy talk to her is scary. 

Well, except you. She certainly doesn’t mind you at all. Might even… Yeonhee shakes her head. Nope, don’t even think about it. You belong to Yuki—sure, she insists that there’s no label on your odd relationship, but she sees how Yuki burns up when another girl approaches you. 

The look on her face is hard to read. Gently place a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, Yeonhee. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

Yeonhee looks around, as if afraid anyone would actually catch her being vulnerable. Her fingers nervously smooth the ends of her ponytail. You roll your eyes; Yuki shoots you a dangerous glare and you're obligated to switch on a sympathetic look again.

“Skip class…” she finally mumbles.

You and Yuki share a confused look. Yuki raises her brows. “Skip class?” she asks, just to be sure she heard that correctly.

“I—I haven’t skipped classes the whole year! I haven’t done it ever, actually.”

It sounds ridiculous. You’re definitely not a regular tardy student. Even Yuki has little record of truancy on her file. But of course, Lee Yeonhee takes the dedication to new heights. She’s never missed a class ever. You remember the pity you felt seeing her get into stats with a face mask and a readied roll of tissue. 

Yuki seems to be recalling all of these memories, too. She gives her best friend a one-over—takes note of the tiniest wrinkle between her brows, the dark undereyes, and hands muddled with inked formulas. They’re only ever visible once you get closer to Yeonhee. That’s the way you can see past her friendly student leader persona and find the work she put in for it.

Yuki smiles. “Well, what are you waiting for, baby girl? Come on.”

-

Your professor’s probably wondering where the hell you all are, especially Yeonhee, her star student who she told to call you guys in. Lord knows she can’t rely on you and Yuki for anything. You imagine how she’d react when she finds out you’ve corrupted her, too.

Wince. Okay, corrupted is a strong word. An explicit implication at that. But as much as you try to erase the image from your mind, it’s clear. Yuki drives you crazy, but you certainly wouldn’t mind Yeonhee. She’s got a body under those big sweaters. Talk about those thighs, Jesus.

You wonder if Yuki’d be okay with that. Maybe she would? You aren’t dating anyway (everyone just groans when you say it but it’s true). And right now, she’s letting Yeonhee huddle up to you while she contents herself with running her fingers through your hair. When Yuki does that, all the casual petting and touching, it feels like second nature; just something she does with no thought. 

“Okay, so we have like three months before we get flimsy diplomas and I can say I officially wasted my dad’s money,” Yuki announces it as if it were a statement to the nation. “Our solemn duty, as Yeonhee’s best friends, is to make sure she doesn’t graduate without a little chaos under her belt.”

“Best friends is pushing it,” you mutter, and she squeezes you a little harder. 

Her fingers have migrated to your cheek while she writes notes down on a neat piece of paper. Yeonhee’s eyes narrow at the familiar blue lining. 

“Where’d you get that?” she asks suspiciously, and Yuki shrugs.

“The dean’s office.”

“What?” Yeonhee shouts, or at least, the nearest she can do to a scold. She’s incapable of raising her voice. “He got that from Dubai! That’s stealing… i-it isn’t yours!”

Duh. Yuki sighs. She allows you to roll your eyes this time. You imagine your best friend’s parents didn’t have a hard time raising her in her little gowns, with her perfect manners and curfew. The perfect little girl. Only Yeonhee can make it sound like a bad thing.

“It’s a notepad,” Yuki deadpans. “And this is exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t have to follow every little rule. Do you always want to be a good girl who does as she’s told?”

Yeonhee struggles to find an answer. The ethical dilemma is doing her head in, or maybe it’s the control Yuki so confidently wields around everyone. Even you, but that’s already a given. She holds, touches, and drags you with her everywhere like she’s the boss. It’s her love language, Yeonhee guesses.

Yuki tends to do that with her, too. But she finds that she doesn’t mind it. Probably even likes it.

The restaurant suddenly seems to feel claustrophobic. It’s mere minutes away from the university. The thought of anyone finding you here is spiking Yeonhee’s nerves. “I’m sorry, what are we doing here again?”

“We’re making a bucket list,” you inform her helpfully. “We’re going to check off everything you wanted to do but never got to. You’ve already skipped class, so that’s one off.”

Yuki tosses her hair to one side as she marks skip class. There’s a mischievous grin on her face when she lifts her head up again.

“We’re going to fill this list up. I propose sneaking into that fine ass villa pool. Y’know, the one near mine.”

Yeonhee blinks, but her eyes are sparkling this time. It’s the most excitement you’ve seen in them since… well, since forever. “It’s monitored. And chlorinated.”

“Which is why it’s perfect.” Yuki scribbles it down and hands her friend the ballpen. “Your turn, Yeon.”

Yeonhee chews her bottom lip to prevent herself from protesting. Meanwhile, you’re salivating. You’ve seen Yuki naked before and nothing compares to that, but a gorgeous bikini on her wasn’t bad either. 

There’s a long pause. Yeonhee’s cheeks turn pink. “I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo…”

Your mouth drops. “I didn’t peg you for a badass tattooed girl.”

“Juri suggested we get one together in first year,” admits Yeonhee shyly. She tucks a strand of her hair back. “I was too scared so I said no.”

Yuki mirrors your surprise with an evil smile. “Make it a tramp stamp!” 

“No!”

Fifteen or so minutes later, the three of you have filled your bucket list. The words overflow from the page. It reads:

YEONHEE’S AMAZING BUCKET LIST 

*  Make this the ONLY thing you cram until the end of the year

*  Crash the pool

*   Skip a class we all hate and go get bubble tea in the middle of the day. 

*   Tell Professor Kingston his tie is ugly. (Yuki’s, immediately vetoed by you and Yeonhee in unison. The professor is nuts and you’d rather not be dead before graduation.)

*  Miss a terror prof’s deadline.  (Yeonhee’s, which makes Yuki clutch her heart in dramatic pride.)

* Get a tattoo. 

* Kiss someone.

*  Get a good dicking down!!!!!! (Yuki’s again, waggling her eyebrows.)

At that last one, Yeonhee’s entire face goes pink. “That’s obscene!”

“That’s the point,” says Yuki nonchalantly. “Face it, sweetheart. Everyone needs a little stress relief.”

Her gaze flicks to you. She’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t she? You hate how you look at each other at the same time. Her hand creeps up your thigh and you feel that familiar, hot knot in your gut, but you keep your focus on Yeonhee. 

“You don’t have to do it first,” you offer. “It has to be someone you trust.”

Yeonhee shrugs shyly. Her big brilliant eyes are smiling. You wonder why she’s always shy around you, as if you haven’t been best friends forever. You got each other through every midterm yet she curls up into a ball each time you squeeze her cheek. 

It’s something you’ll have to figure out sooner or later. Yuki’s given you a forkful of cheese pizza.

“Also has to be someone with a big dick,” Yuki says and her friend blushes furiously again. She smiles sweetly at you. “Right, hon?”

“R-Right.”

You try not to choke on the mozzarella. Yuki rests her chin on your shoulder, gently biting your earlobe. She doesn’t care that Yeonhee’s right in front of you or that this is very much a public place. You’re hers—in her head, she’s got every right to stake that claim.

“So,” Yeonhee says just in time to prevent Yuki from jumping you. “Pool first?”

You nod.

“Tomorrow night. Wear your sexiest swimsuit.” Yuki winks. “Or don’t.”

-

Tomorrow can’t come any faster. You’ve been looking forward to it all day. By the end of your last period, you’re practically sprinting to your agreed meet-up point. It’s in the university parking lot, where Yuki’s gorgeous car awaits to take you on your adventure.

Yuki checks her watch with a tsk. Four minutes past the deadline. “Where could that girl be?”

To be fair, it sounds a lot like Yeonhee to chicken out. She’s the epitome of obedience. She probably thought about the laws there were about private property and took the easy way out. 

“She’s scared to death.”

“Well, I can’t blame her,” says Yuki. “I have to admit I started the list off a little strong.”

“You did?” you gasp sarcastically. She rolls her eyes. “No, Yuki, she definitely didn’t get scared because you suggested trespassing.”

Before you could let another teasing remark out, she lets the flannel jacket slip from her arms. Your mouth waters at the thin, red bikini she’s got on. It pushes up her plentiful tits and ties at the deep line of her toned back. Her hips hold up the knots of what you could imagine is the skimpiest pair of bikini bottoms ever.

Yuki smirks as she buttons her jacket again. “Another word and you’re not getting any of this.”

You shut up for the rest of your waiting. Yuki kisses you as a reward but now you’re really fired up. She looks too damn good in that flimsy little set, and you wonder how you’ll hold back all day. It’s impossible for your hands not to end up on her body.

You also wonder how she got through the whole day without anyone noticing. That jacket of hers must have ridden up and shown what’s underneath. The shorts leave nothing to the imagination either. But Yuki has her ways.

Yeonhee scurries to you, almost tripping over pebbles. She looks like she just ran a marathon.

“There you are,” you say, giving her a hug. Quickly grab her duffel bag that looks like it weighs more than her. “I thought you were gonna back out.”

Yeonhee looks around for CCTVs before pulling her shirt off, revealing a skintight rashguard. “Why would I? I’m not a coward.”

“Sure you aren’t,” teases Yuki, but she’s smiling proudly. 

Yeonhee calls shotgun, ever the passenger princess. You suffer in the backseat with their phones, bags, and clothes. The parking lot stones make the road jagged, and you count two times your head knocked into the painfully solid window.

God, it was gonna be a long ride. 

The villa isn’t that far from campus but it feels like it. The traffic is especially hellish today. You take several short naps and you wake up still in the same intersection. It only gets worse as the night falls. Yuki beeps furiously at the cyclists taking up the main lane. 

“Fucking Sunday drivers,” she murmurs.

Yeonhee shakes her head sympathetically. She squints as headlights pour through the windshield. “Maybe they have places to be. Maybe their mom’s looking for them, or they need to go to the hospital.”

Yuki gathers her emotions with a deep sigh. She can’t bring herself to yell at Yeonhee. It’s both shocking and nice to see her practice some self-restraint. You recall how she almost got into a catfight with a girl at the bar, all because the poor girl asked if you were single.

You raise a brow. “On a bicycle. They’re rushing to the ER on a bicycle.”

“Yeah!” Eager to relay the numbers of books she read, Yeonhee nods. “It’s called sonder. Textbook definition is it’s like, the realization that people have lives just as complicated as ours. We all have our own thing.”

“I call it being an idiot who doesn’t know how to drive,” says Yuki irritably.

You and Yeonhee laugh. You’re quickly scolded for blocking the rearview mirror. Yuki rebuckles Yeonhee’s seartbelt and keeps one hand on her knee for the rest of the ride. 

The villa’s fine architecture comes into view. Big, gorgeous houses shadow your figures. You imagine they belong to families with old money dating back centuries, celebrities, or politicians who’ve pocketed more than what they should. Yeonhee looks up at them admiringly. Yuki, on the other hand, jumps off the car like it’s nothing. She’s no stranger to luxury. It’s exactly why you’re confused by her proposal of invading a pool when she has one of her own.

Yeonhee doesn’t know that of course.

You stop in your tracks. “Wait! There’s a guard!” 

Both girls snap their heads to the entrance. Indeed, an armed security guard sits in a chair with his arms crossed. A burnt cigarette hangs between his lips. Rough night, you suppose. It couldn’t be an easy job to protect a stingy, gated community all by yourself. Rich people were scared of everything—places that weren’t airconditioned, mosquitoes, and peddlers. 

Most importantly, they were scared of college students such as yourself trying to sneak into private property. They had every right to be.

You think you regret agreeing to this now. “What do we do?”

There’s a CCTV propped above the gate. The boom barrier cannot be moved unless the guard controls it. And the guard in question has a fucking gun. 

Yuki presses a finger to her lips. “Just follow me.”

You and Yeonhee look at each other in fear. It's impossible that even a wildcat like her could get past this. You offer a prayer that Yuki would set limits tonight. It’s one that would more likely than not go unanswered—Mori Koyuki has never been afraid of anything.

She slowly, surely tiptoes on the grass leading to the wall that surrounds the villa. You follow suit. You can hear Yeonhee whimpering. You accidentally step on a twig, making Yuki glare at you. 

Yuki wraps her hands around the metal, leaning back for leverage, arms flexing with the labor—

“No way—”

—and hoists herself up the wall in one, massive go. Her sneakers scrape the otherwise pure white painting with dirt. Yeonhee muffles her squeal with a sleeve.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she whispers. You wholeheartedly agree—she’s so off the rails that she made Yeonhee cuss for the first time ever.

Yuki’s grin is sharp. “Try and keep up.”

At this point, you fully believe that if Yuki jumped off a cliff, so would you. Because you find yourself following her, helping Yeonhee over, your hand steady on her elbow. Her denim shorts catch onto the sharp edges. You then rush off into the night, trying to keep your footfalls as quiet as possible.

It takes three turns to finally reach the pool. Perhaps the adrenaline was worth it? Its turquoise walls reach deep into the water, making it look like a real ocean. Corals line the edges with a ladder. It’s the sort of luxury you’d find in high-end resorts.

And here you are swimming in it for free.

Yeonhee’s reflection looks anxious in the water. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”

Yuki puts an arm around her. Her voice is gentle. “We can go back if you want to, but I’m just saying… we’ll miss out on a lot of fun.”

She nods toward you. It’s your cue. You’re the first to break the surface, diving in with a splash that echoes through the silent estate. The water is cool. It isn’t warm enough to sting, but not cold enough to make you shiver. 

Yuki throws her jacket off and steps out of her shorts. Her legs could go on forever. She makes a show of putting her hair down before diving right in.

“Cannonball!” she yells. She crashes right next you, causing a flood to take you down with her. Yeonhee giggles at it all. Finally, she steps right in, albeit settling for the shallower parts of the pool.

For a while, it’s just games. You feel like a kid playing pretend again. You invent “Marco Polo” with a twist, where the “Polo” has to answer a ridiculous trivia question Yeonhee comes up with. It ends with a tie, and Yeonhee, far too kind to declare anybody a loser, says you both win. Yuki organizes a floating race, where you all have to kick from one end to the other without using your arms. 

“You cheated!” Yeonhee yells. It’s the loudest you’ve heard her speak. Wild golden flames dance in her eyes. 

Yuki laughs loudly. “No I didn’t, maybe you need your glasses. You aren’t seeing clearly.”

“I use reading glasses, you—”

She lunges at Yuki. Both of them end up underwater, giggling and yelling. 

Tonight has a lot of firsts. Of course, it’s your first time trespassing (and it’s definitely not something you’d be proud of down the line), but it’s also the first time you see Yeonhee let loose. Like, really let loose. Her hair is tangled from the pool water and sticks to those cheeks that stretch into an infectious smile. You don’t see that smile often. You can tell it’s the same for her best friend, who allows her to win their little “fight” and proposes a rematch.

You have no idea what time it is. Probably seven? Eight? You soon lose the energy in the taxing games you all wage. Yeonhee busies herself with perfecting a handstand she learned in gymnastics. Just how many skills does this girl hace? You shake your head in disbelief as you settle for the edge of the pool. Your muscles are sore. Maybe you strained it earlier from when you were playfully wrestling with Yuki.

Lean against the pool edge, head tipped to the sky. You close your eyes for a while. The light from the pool, lamps, and the moon pierce through your eyelids. It’s been a while since you went swimming. Although you still need to work on your backstrokes, your body feels freer down here than the land above. 

Or so you thought.

A loud splash makes you open your eyes once more. It’s Yuki. Of course it is. 

Only her eyes break above the surface, dark and inviting, making her look like a siren. Uh oh. You know that look too well. It’s the kind she flashes you before pulling you into the nearest staircase well, your hands ending up between her legs. You never had a chance.

Yuki lifts herself up. Water streams down her cleavage. “Wanna play another game?” 

“You’re insatiable. Yeonhee’s right there.”

To your surprise, she doesn’t close on you. Hell, she doesn’t even palm your boner underwater. But she does something more dangerous:

She pushes herself out of the pool. Water streams down her body. There, the moon watches Yuki slip out of her bikini top, then her shorts, letting them fall to the tiles with soft, wet plops.

Yeonhee’s handstand collapses. She stares, wide-eyed, then quickly turns her attention back to the water. Both of your faces are heated. You seem to mirror each other often, especially when it comes to Yuki. The two of you blush when Yuki says another sultry innuendo, flinch when she touches you, and let her do anything she wants. You orbit around her like the sun. 

She dives back into the pool. Yuki swims to you underwater, emerging right in front of you before her arms hang around your neck. Her full, supple body presses to yours. Before you could ask if she was crazy (although you know the answer to that already), her mouth finds you. Her tongue traces the seam of your lips before diving in.

Fuck.

You meet her with equal intensity, your hands finding her waist under the water. The smooth dip of her amazing hips fill your palms. 

Weren’t you hesitating a few seconds ago? You should be telling her that she was insane, that she can’t just skinny dip when Yeonhee was there, that what she’s doing counts for public indecency. 

You can’t find it in you to do it now. 

Yeonhee is floating nearby. “This pool looks like the ones my rich aunt has, she got it for a fortune with the house,” she says, having forgotten what she saw. Or is she pretending not to have seen anything? 

Yuki’s lips break from yours only to whisper, “Keep her talking,” before she kisses you even harder. One of your hands drifts from her waist, sliding down through the water. With how desperate Yuki’s gasping, it’s hard to throw Yeonhee off your scent. But god, will you have to try. You can’t traumatize the poor girl again.

You find her center under the water. The slick sensation between her amazing thighs is undeniable. Even the pool can’t make her this drenched. Your finger slips inside, and she gasps into your mouth, her body arching against you. Move slowly, your thumb finding a rhythm against her clit while your index finger curls inside her.

Yeonhee is now discussing the cleanliness of the pool water. “It’s very well-maintained. Like not even a leaf or something. The people here must pay well.”

Yuki’s breaths come in short bursts against your cheek. It’s like she wants to get caught. Her hips are moving with your hand, eyes closed tight. She bites your lower lip to stifle a moan. Her own hand is fighting the pressure of the water to jerk you off. 

“You think they just… clean this with regular draining?” you ask, your voice remarkably even. Yuki giggles in your shoulder at how stupid you sound. 

“No and yes. With traditional chlorine, of course,” Yeonhee corrects. “If you look closely, you can actually notice how the light throws it off a little. That’s why you don’t see fog or dirt. Assuming they don’t have a natural source, regular cleaning would be better than just wasting water each time someone steps in.”

Whatever that means. Your focus is on Yuki, who trembles in your arms. Her forehead rests against yours. You quickly add another finger. Make it your goal to get her there before Yeonhee realizes what you’re doing. The kiss becomes torrid. You can feel her climax building steadily.

Yeonhee, bless her innocent soul, starts speculating on the villa owner’s nationality based on the garden layout. She says something about how culture often influences design even when said designer creates internationally, but you don’t hear any of it. All you can hear is Yuki’s muffled cry in the crook of your neck. 

Yuki’s body convulses, sharply jerking against you. You keep your digits still so she has something to squeeze down on as she cums. She neglects her strained handjob to squeeze your side. She can’t think clearly. The thrill of it all—the fact that this pool wasn’t hers and that Yeonhee could catch you if she looked the wrong way—gets her off as much as you do.

Slowly, you withdraw your hand. Her kiss is less hungry this time in an attempt to catch her breath. Beneath you, the rapids of the water finally subside. 

Yeonhee finally turns around. You and Yuki immediately look away from each other. Yuki swims a few feet away but Yeonhee already looks suspicious. 

She opens her mouth and you hold your breath for the worst.

“Did you guys hear that? I think a car might be coming.”

The spell breaks. She was right. The unmistakable sound of a revved engine was coming your way. Yuki, with effortless nonchalance, swims to where her clothes lie and starts putting them back on. You dry off your hair the best you can. You can only hope you didn’t leave anything in your panic.

-

Later in the car, Yeonhee’s all smiles. “That was fun!” 

Her hair is wrapped in a towel. Yuki’s long since given up telling you not to wet her seats. But you try your best anyway, changing into a pair of shorts and putting on a cap. She keeps one hand on the steering wheel while she dabs her face with skincare. She puts some on the tip of Yeonhee’s nose and she giggles.

Yuki smiles at her. If she looked at her with more love than she already is, hearts might pop out of her pupils. Seeing her best friend without all the tension in her shoulders is a different type of joy. She’s literally glowing. 

“I told you having fun won’t kill anybody.” She pauses, and looks at the rearview mirror. “Let’s just hope it won’t get us a lawsuit.”

-

Maybe it’s cheating. Maybe it’s a loophole that doesn’t go by the rules you’ve set for the bucket list. But this is about Yeonhee—you two are just in it for the ride. So, several weeks later, you all decide to miss that boring personal development class and push Yeonhee to abstain from her project.

Filling this part of the bucket list is long overdue. Yuki had presentations lined up for each day. Meanwhile, you had to submit several sketches for architecture. But you couldn’t imagine how much busier Yeonhee was compared to the two of you. Two of her organizations required a booth and a meeting, forcing her to play carpenter again plus fish out a few thousand won.

You’re just glad to be in The Cuppa. It’s your safe space. When all the shit you have to do beats you down—particularly toward the end of this semester where your professors unleash all unholy hell on you—this is where you turn to. 

“It’s multi-tasking,” you explain to her, twirling your straw through the boba pearls. Then, to put things in her perspective: “Better than missing a class one day then flunking another project tomorrow, right?”

 You ordered a classic to save your money. Yeonhee goes for a strawberry milk tea. Meanwhile, Yuki opts for this large, delicious milkshake topped with whipped cream and syrup. 

It just begs another question: how the hell does Yuki keep that amazing figure? She’s never been one to go on diets. Right now, she’s chugging a thousand-calorie milkshake with no second thought about it. She never fails to keep you guessing.

The anxious taps of Yeonhee’s ballerina flat breaks your trail of thought. She’s staring longingly at her laptop. It’s at the edge of the table, closed and locked so as not to tempt her. She gives you an accusing look.

“What?” you ask.

She pouts. “You two are a bad influence.”

Yuki laughs heartily. “Oh please,” she says, waving a hand through the air. “That personal development class does nothing anyway. They should’ve kept that shit in first year.”

She gestures around, as if to say, look, you’re having way more fun out here than in some boring classroom. She seems to be the only one appreciating the added bubble tea menu. The Cuppa has a gorgeous, homely aesthetic with relaxing Sade tunes in the background. Not to mention the generous discount given because Yeonhee had connections with Eunbi, the manager. But the girl is still biting her nails nervously.

“Besides,” adds Yuki sweetly, “I’ve got enough personality already. I don’t need that class.”

Yeonhee quirks her lip. “Thank you for that really helpful insight.”

Yuki smirks. It’s rare for Yeonhee to be feisty. It does annoy her, however, that she’s letting out some of that bitchiness over a useless course of all things.

Sensing that nothing is getting to her, you jump in to help. Place your drink on the table for a minute. The tissue complete with The Cuppa logo sticks to the moisture forming around the plastic.

“Look, if this is about the deadline—”

“Yes, it’s about the deadline—”

“—then you deserve the break anyway.” You open Yeonhee’s laptop to show her the island of notifications from her group. One after the other, each message reads of panic. “You carried the dissertation on your back. It’s time they do their part.”

@/KimYeonhee where are you?? 😣 We need you, one message from Yunkyoung reads. It’s followed by a screenshot of a ridiculously constructed paragraph.

Another from Suyun says, hey idk why you’re inactive but… where’s the doc Yunkyoung’s talking about? Is this the map plan LOL

Too many people take advantage of Yeonhee’s infinite patience. For so long, she let them take another three hours of sleep while she lost hers fixing the bibliography. She was the one who sought credible sources both offline and online. 

Now that she’s found temporary freedom from it, Yeonhee feels… odd. The darkness under her eyes was gone, replaced by a healthy softness to her cheeks. She’s radiant again but losing the weight of work is something she’s definitely not used to. She was accustomed to fitting her schedule between deadlines and writing up another paper. 

Yeonhee looks two seconds away from typing in her PIN and getting back on the Google Doc. “But what if they don’t submit it on time?”

“It doesn’t matter. Professor Goeun is well aware that you’ve been doing all the work. Your groupmates should be the ones worrying, not you. You have to put yourself first.”

“I—I know but it just feels so wrong—”

Before you know it, Yeonhee bursts into tears. She covers her face with her hands, shaking in fear. Her frame is so tense, so paralyzed with anxiety that your heart breaks. You wonder if you’ve taken this too far. This one’s on you. You should’ve checked with her to see if this whole ordeal was okay.

Alarmed, Yuki wraps her arms around her. “Hey,” she coos softly. She runs her fingers through the girl’s hair.  “Hey, you’re alright. You’re fine. What’s the matter?”

Yeonhee wipes her tears with her wrist. You offer her some tissues, and she accepts gladly. Her face is flushed red. The tears that puff her face make her look like someone far younger, someone who’s just been brought into the real world and has no idea what to do.

“We’re sorry. We shouldn’t have taken it this far.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not that.” The tiny smile on her face is genuine. “I actually had a lot of fun. This is the most fun I’ve had since… well, forever.”

You relax a little. At least you know now that she isn’t crying because you took it too far. The normal fun you and Yuki have could be extreme for her. This was a girl who had gone by the rules all her life, from the dress code to deadlines. 

“Well, thank goodness.” Relief washes over Yuki’s face. That’s what matters, isn't it? She holds Yeonhee tighter. “Then why are you crying? Did we say something wrong?”

“Not at all. It’s just that—” Yeonhee hiccups a little, a sound caught between a sob and a groan. She lifts her slim shoulders. “I’ve never heard anyone tell me to put myself first.”

In the silence that hangs in the air, you could almost hear your heart and Yuki’s shatter. Yeonhee bows her head once more. Fat teardrops land on the fabric of her skirt.

You’ve accused people before of taking Yeonhee the wrong way. Yuki told you that she was bullied in high school by people who made her do their homework. She was called names for the sin of being dedicated to her studies. 

But you find out now that you’ve misinterpreted her, too. Doesn’t matter if it was unintentional. She wasn’t doing the whole neat freak thing for fun. Nobody who was sane would do that. She was doing it because it was what she was used to. People expected her to fit the good girl stereotype, fitting her into a box since she was a teenager. People lounged back while relying on her to do the dirty work.

You cup her tiny, adorable face in your hands. “Well, you’re hearing it now.”

You thumb away a tear that trickles down her cheek and give her a quick, sweet kiss. Her lipbalm tastes like cherries.  

It’s an impulsive thing to do. You know how these always end up. Curse yourself for putting your heart over your head again. But when you pull away, Yeonhee’s smiling gratefully. 

She’s your friend. She’s got your back and you don’t have to be scared around her. 

You search for any anger in Yuki’s face, already preparing to be scolded, but you find none. Instead, she interlocks her fingers with Yeonhee’s. “Remember we’re doing this for you,” she tells her. “You call the shots. We can stop anytime you want.”

The look in Yuki’s eyes, only reserved for you and Yeonhee, is so tender that it feels like you shouldn’t be witnessing their exchange.  They’ve been linked before you even came along: braiding each other’s hair in high school, teaming up for entrance exams, and now, finishing college together. Together, like they’ve always been.

You have the good sense to leave, but then Yuki pulls you in to join the hug. Your eyes close. The warmth of the embrace somehow heals part of you that you never knew needed closure. They’re the friends you prayed for when you had nobody. They’re the closest and realest friends you’ve ever had, and it’s a scary thought, but you truly don’t know what to do without them.

Yeonhee finally starts to laugh. Minutes ago, she was drowned by appreciation for you, and now you’re sandwiching her in a hug. She gently pushes you away with a sniffle.

“You guys are so corny,” she says. “You’re lucky I love you.”

-

One of the many things Kim Yeonhee missed out on is the night life.

Every college student has dipped into it once or twice. Personally, you started seeing the beauty of it after a particularly horrible score. You went out with Yuki, had drinks, sat by the Han River, everything. It was a vice best handled at arm’s length. You knew that if you went regularly, a lot of things would go sideways.

Tonight, only the neon lights from the clubs of Gangnam illuminate the streets. This was the rich kid’s playground—everywhere you turn and look, your wallet practically begs to be emptied. There’s clothes, liquor, and tattoo shops. Samgyupsals are the biggest attraction here, but you didn’t get all dressed up to eat.

Graduation is in a week and you’re here to have unfiltered, shameless fun.

“Do you think you could handle it?” Yuki had asked Yeonhee, her voice tinged with concern. And it seemed as if she should ask the same to you—she has on black leather shorts, a crop top, and a bold lipstick that makes you want to pin her to the wall right there and then. Jesus. How could you handle all of that?

Yeonhee looked around. The wild landscape of the city was a panorama reflecting on her sunglasses. “We didn’t commute all the way here for nothing. I’m not going to chicken out now.”

This was not the Kim Yeonhee you know. Your Yeonhee sways around in little coquette skirts and ribboned top. This one had on a red dress that clung to her body, cut at the sides to show that deadly waist. 

Yuki did the honors of doing Yeonhee’s hair and makeup. The almond shape of her eyes looks more dangerous with the sharp eyeliner. 

You only noticed now the slight fang she has in the corner of her mouth, making her look like a vampire bathed in neon. You gulp. Yuki must have noticed your reaction, but if she did, she doesn’t say anything. Her knowing smirk says enough. 

You party so much you don’t think you could attend the graduation afterparty. This night alone is equivalent to all the parties you’ll have in the future, enough to fill the gaps of your wedding and first car. The alcohol hums in your veins like little jolts of electricity, making your mind fuzzy. Your thoughts blur into one another and dictate your hands around Yuki’s waist. You always turn to her when you’ve got some in your system. Her familiar, reliable touch gets you down.

It cuts the same way for her, too. Yuki, damn her, presses her cute ass flush against your hard-on. The skirt lifts and pins to your stomach. 

Yuki starts to move, igniting a fire with the friction of fabric and flesh on your erection. She raises her arms as she dances. There’s no need for pretense anyway. Everyone’s either doing the same thing you are or perhaps chatting their way into someone’s pants. But Yuki loves subtlety, no matter how bad she is at maintaining it.

You groan against her ear. “God—” A hundred bodies dance in huddles around you yet hers is the most magnetic. Nothing can pull you off her, not with those curves and waist.

She giggles, letting her head fall into your shoulder. Her hair against your ear muffles the Ne-Yo they’ve got booming through the speakers. Through the noise, you hear her, sultry and clear: “Are you gonna do it? Gonna cum on my ass in front of all these people?”

“If you keep doing that, I will.”

Your grip on her hips grows tighter. Your groans and whines are a symphony as Yuki does exactly what you fear and want. She bends over a little, shaking those cute cheeks into your core, and directs her grinding to the center of her shorts. You can feel how soaked she is in so little time. 

She looks back at you, biting her lip. “You know she’s watching us, right?”

Although you’re drunk, it’s not difficult to know who she’s talking about. Yeonhee, your brilliant, beautiful friend, has gone away to get herself some drinks. She’s a big girl, right? She said so herself. You and Yuki felt comfortable enough to let her into the crowd and have some fun. But while she was gone, you were going to have some fun, too.

And you see her over Yuki’s shoulder. She’s just… standing there, glued to her place on the dance floor at the sight of you and Yuki. She stays there despite several wild moves from the girl in the tube dress and a guy who, when he saw her eyes on you, decided she might not be interested in him. You move to still Yuki’s hips, but to your shock, she doesn’t let herself be held back.

No. Yuki looks straight at Yeonhee as she rubs into you harder. Even flashes her a wicked smile.

You burn up for a different reason. This isn’t the first time Yeonhee caught you—this was just one of the several traumatizing moments she found Yuki unable to keep her hands off you. Now, she’s unlucky enough to see you dryhumping her in a public place. You hope this time, she commends you for choosing the club, which is shameless enough to let it pass.

“I—” Yeonhee’s words die just when they’re about to leave her mouth. She should’ve expected this, right? 

Yuki pouts mockingly. “Is there something wrong, Yeonhee?”

Yeonhee realizes there’s no use in giving you your drinks. She had to fight a stampede for them, too. She sets them on a table, wondering what she should say. She has so many questions. The curiosity might kill her if she bites her tongue. 

“Why are you looking at him like that…” asks Yeonhee. It’s two in the morning, she’s slightly tipsy, and right now, you’re starting to look really good all worked up.

You could feel the bass of the music pump in your chest. It grows rhythmless when you realize Yuki is, in fact, undressing you with her eyes. She doesn’t even stop grinding on you. She has no problem showing everyone what she likes to do to you.

And hearing the innocent possessiveness in Yeonhee’s voice takes you higher than any drug. 

“Am I not allowed to?” Yuki laughs, taking no offense because Yeonhee clearly meant none. The girl was only curious, almost naive. “I’m just trying to figure out the perfect place for the tattoo. We talked about it earlier, remember.”

She isn’t totally lying. To finally complete the bucket list, all three of you had agreed on the friendship tattoo you’ll get. Yeonhee volunteered quotes, but when she heard the vulgar double entendres Yuki suggested, that was quickly shot down. You finally settled for a small moon (you), star (Yeonhee), and a planet (Yuki.) You don’t know when you got sidetracked from going to the tattoo parlor. You’re willing to bet it was when Yuki saw Swan again after a while near the entrance. One thing led to another, and now you’re here in this extremely compromising position.

Yeonhee doesn’t buy it; her cheeks are cherry red. She manages a little white lie anyway because, well, you were her boyfriend. Yuki might not like labels but that gives her no right to stake her claim over you. “I was just concerned.”

“Are you jealous?” 

Both you and Yeonhee stop dead in your tracks. 

“What?” 

Yuki stops grinding against you. She has another idea, and Mori Koyuki isn’t one to have hesitation. Her hips sway as she approaches Yeonhee.

“Do you want me to look at you like I look at him?” she asks, and does exactly that: shamelessly letting her dark eyes wander over her amazing body. She knows more about Yeonhee beyond that steadfast dedication to her degree and her favorite color. She knows what she’s hiding under those big clothes.

Yeonhee looks like she’s going to explode. You’re both speechless as Yuki circles her like prey. 

(Not far off. See the scene earlier, before you booked a taxi to Gangnam:

“No offense,” said Yuki as she towered over her, putting mascara on her fine lashes, “it’s fine to be cute, really. But it’s getting old. We know you’re capable of being a hottie.”

They were on top of each other on the rocking bed. You tried not to look but there was a clear, mutual feeling between you and Yeonhee. You had no idea how to handle an enigma like Yuki, especially when she had you wrapped around her little finger. She knew that well.

Yeonhee attempted to move, but was held back by Yuki pressing her weight more firmly on top of her. She still had to do her eyeshadow. The smokey color on her eyelids made the flustered color on her cheeks more obvious. Funny. Yuki hadn’t put blush on her yet.)

Yeonhee’s throat bobs. So often do words fail her when she’s around Yuki, when the younger girl sizes her up like this. With them, the fact that she’s older is completely disregarded, honorifics out the window, the pointless performative respect gone. Yuki already claimed the upper hand.

She wields control like it’s nothing. “Oh, you’ve been dreaming of it, haven’t you, baby?”  she asks. Yeonhee doesn’t shake her head. “I’m right, aren’t I? You want me to fuck you like I fuck him.”

Wait wait wait, this was absofuckinglutely nowhere on the bucket list, you scream in your head. You can’t tear your eyes off the scene in front of you. It’s the way Yuki drives her crazy, and how Yeonhee doesn’t even make a move to fight or deny anything. Whatever Yuki’s saying is the plain truth, in all its obscenity. Her flimsy excuses won’t hold up in court, where the jury’s taken Yuki’s side. A unanimous ruling in Yuki’s favor.

That’s just how the world works for her. Yuki gets what she wants no matter what.

 “I—” Yeonhee stammers nervously. What percentage of her life has been spent cowering and blushing around Yuki? The words often die on her tongue when she gets close. No one can say no to her.

Not even a mathematician like Yeonhee can calculate it fast enough before Yuki puts her lips on hers.

Yeonhee goes still. Yuki’s hand cups the side of her face so she could slip her tongue inside, capturing her mouth even harder. She could feel the heat radiating from Yeonhee’s cheek on her fingertips. She liplocks her more passionately, making it something she’d never forget, putting on a show for you. Their tongues pass over each other, plump lips soft.

She smiles as she pulls away. To you, it felt a lot longer than that. Your cock strains in your pants while Yeonhee looks positively turned on. Yearning’s etched all over her blushing features. 

“Well, that’s one off the list,” Yeonhee jokes, trying to pretend as if it were nothing. You share awkward laughs to brush it off. Hate that there aren’t automatic sitcom laughs to hold up.

 But she knows that was an unwise decision when Yuki places a hand on her waist.

“Want to check off another one?”

-

Yuki would do anything for her best friend.

They’ve known each other since the days of puppy love and hormonal acne. Seeing each other grow up was a privilege. It’s the kind of thing that sustains a friendship. They took entrance exams together, cried over exes, everything. Yuki knows they’d do it all over again to preserve what they had.

And so when she checks in to a five star hotel suite just to fill up the last of the bucket list, she knows Yeonhee would do the same if need be.

You’d argue that it was ridiculous to spend so much for the sole purpose of fucking. The premise itself was ridiculous. But you can’t exactly complain when you’ve got Yeonhee’s hungry lips on your mouth, and Yuki kissing the back of your neck. You feel her teeth sink into your shoulder and you groan helplessly. You’re stuck between two magnets that are both attracted to you. There’s nowhere to run. 

You don’t plan to.

If news gets out before graduation and makes it onto the university’s gossip page, this is the best excuse you can come up with: all of you were pretty drunk.

But lord knows that with or without alcohol, you can’t say no to the girls’ amazing bodies. Your hands are attached infinitely to Yeonhee’s waist. Occasionally, you reach back to cup Yuki’s cheek, pulling her closer to you.

Yeonhee finally pulls away. It’s like your breaths were sealed into a vacuum and left you in this expensive suite, with her bra half unclasped and Yuki’s lipstick already smeared. Only they can make you sweat in an airconditioned room.

You’ve found her nipple, twisting it under that excuse of a dress. She heaves a delicate sigh. She’s so sensitive. Each little touch causes the sweetest noises to spill from her pretty mouth. “God,” she whines, breathless, “you’re such a good kisser.”

Yuki smirks. “You’ve been missing out on a lot more than French kisses, Yeonhee.”

As if to show off the example, she gropes your clothed cock. It’s making a dent through your boxers. Yeonhee can’t take her eyes off it. You’ve never quite seen this needy look on her before. It suits her, to be honest, but god, you really did corrupt her, didn’t you? She looks far from the good girl she was months ago. 

Or maybe she was never the good girl she claimed to be. Perhaps her eyes lingered longer than they should when she caught you and Yuki going at it, or watched your arms around each other, wishing for something she didn’t quite understand.

The thought makes you shiver. The temperature provides some refuge, sort of, reaching an all-time high when Yuki pulls your boxers down. Her fist is a velvet grip around your length. She jerks you off quickly, making your knees buckle as she twists her hand around. She giggles at the precum leaking from your tip. 

“Aww, did I turn you on too much? You’re so fucking hard and you aren’t even inside me yet.”

Yuki leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your shoulder while Yeonhee watches, too stunned to even speak. She’s squirming. She wants to slip her hand under her dress the moment Yuki’s kisses turn into little love bites. Your flesh is peppered with the stain of Yuki’s lipstick under purple bruises sure to hurt tomorrow. 

Your teeth grit against each other. It’s impossible to cope with the smooth friction of Yuki’s hand. You can’t even survive Yeonhee’s sultry gaze alone.

Yuki nods at Yeonhee. Her other hand strokes the bone of your hip. “Get on your knees, gorgeous. Show him how badly you want that dick.”

Curse under your breath. What’s happening now is a fantasy you’ll never admit to having. Nobody can beat this information out of you. 

But Yeonhee seems to already know. She looks hypnotized as she sinks to the floor. She doesn’t even hesitate. Her dress looks better on the carpet. A fast fashion piece like that doesn’t deserve to drape Yeonhee’s wide hips, or those perky tits just begging to be played with. 

Tighten your abs to keep you from blowing. Each scene unfolding at this very moment is a dream come true. The loss of Yuki’s quick hand on your cock feels foreign. You were used to always touching each other, joining your bodies so often that a few centimeters apart feels like hell. 

No matter: Yeonhee brings you right back to heaven with her lips on your shaft.

Her tongue drags a trail of hot drool on your underside. She’s an amateur, her skills unable to parallel with Yuki’s. But she’s getting there for sure. Besides, Yuki had the unfair advantage of blowing you a million times. There was that one under the table as you gamed, or some mornings ago when she felt your cum was a better alternative to milk. You can appreciate the innocent lapping at the sensitive flesh of your balls and cockhead.

“Oh, don’t be a tease now, Yeonhee.” Yuki kneels next to the older girl. “You’ve done that for far too long.”

Their lewd conversation is an aphrodisiac, you swear. Hearing Yuki guide her friend in blowing you feels straight out of your dreams. Have you maxed your luck out? You can’t aim higher than this: having two gorgeous girls prepare to drain your cum. 

When Yeonhee’s wet mouth greets your dick, it’s final. You don’t want to wake up from this dream. 

Your head falls back. You stumble a little, overwhelmed by the sensation of that vibrating whimper and that tongue of hers. You fall back against the edge of the bed. A few inches slip out from the clench of her lips. But it’s back once she’s gotten her hands on your quads to help her out.

Your sex is completely drenched with her work. She sucks you off harder before she pulls away for a breather. Her shoulders rise in sync with her heavy panting. A string of spit connects her swollen lips to you. 

Then she goes in for the kill. Yeonhee pushes herself forward and welcomes you into her tight throat. Your knuckles turn pale on the edge of the mattress. 

“Jesus, Yeon…” Can’t even get her name out. Her lips are glossed with drool as she takes you. Her soft cheeks hollow and you’re able to dent the skin gently with your tip. The feel of the side of her cheeks alone makes you shiver. It isn’t even that which makes you weak at the knees, gripping at the edge of the hotel bed. It’s the fucking pace she sets, too fast even for her to keep up with, reintroducing your girth into the column of her throat. It brings tears into those pretty eyes.

You have to fist your hand in Yeonhee’s glossy hair when she starts to gag a little. The contraction of her throat has your toes curling, and you have to remind yourself that you aren’t allowed to pull her hair or force your cock deeper even if she wanted to. There’s a boundary here that is still there despite how blurred it is. She’s still your best friend.

But then Yuki breaks the tension and fixes her fingers over yours in Yeonhee’s hair. She starts to force Yeonhee’s head down your cock, guiding her back and forth. You feel Yeonhee’s grip on your thighs grow tighter. 

“Y-Yuki, what the hell!” you gasp. Your muscles wound tight, the friction of Yeonhee’s throat and deliciously plump lips torturing you. You want to reprimand Yuki, tell her Yeonhee’s not ready for that. Let her take her time. She’s not as wild as she is. 

But Yeonhee doesn’t even fight the pressure any less than you fight to free yourself from the overwhelming pleasure. Encouraged by Yuki’s stern fingers curled on her scalp, she takes in quick breaths through her nose (or tries to) as she takes your cock. Her whimpers only add to the pleasure when they buzz against you. 

Guilt is what you should feel in this situation. Yeonhee always pushes herself to take more than what she can. Her hands deftly play with your balls, eyes trained on your face to see if she’s doing well, your cock from tip to base pleasured by those deadly lips. But it’s only mindnumbing ecstasy that envelops you now—no thoughts, no consequences, only Yeonhee and that fuckable face.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” says Yuki in a whisper. Her grip loosens and then becomes almost comforting. She’s stroking Yuki’s strands, wiping away the stray tears and assessing the bruises. “Always knew you could do it. You just wanted to be a cocktease this whole time.”

Whatever. You’d say those months before this night spent filling up the bucket list paid off in the end. You’re going to cum. The furious bobs of Yeonhee’s face are throwing you over the edge.

Much to your disappointment, Yuki keeps her from finishing the job. Her glistening lips depart from your aching dick with an obscene pop. And lord, Yeonhee looks utterly wrecked. Her hair, which was done with hairspray and attentive combing, falls down her shoulders in a mess. 

And through all that, Yeonhee still looks like the prettiest girl in the world.

She whines in protest. “What’d you do that for? I was getting so good.”

“That’s only the beginning,” replies Yuki simply. “Doesn’t count until he really gets that big thing inside you.”

You’re too fucked out to even see right. It’s the alcohol or something,, blurring things together and making up what isn’t there. But if the scene of Yuki reaching under Yeonhee’s legs and stroking her is real, that’s just another surprise of the night. 

Yeonhee purrs at the feeling. She’s drunk with pleasure. She’ll have a hard time weaning herself off the feeling of Yuki’s fingers against her soaked center. You know the feeling too well.

She’s made a mess through her panties already. Yuki focuses the pressure on her clit, making the girl squirm and finding relief in clinging to your flexed arm. “Yuki, please…”

“No, don’t look at me like that. Be a big girl and tell him straight up what you want.’

Yeonhee lifts her head to you. The light seems to single her out, contouring each perfect shape on her face and figure. Where do you even start to look—her glorious thighs wet with her own slick or those eyes that, for the first time, hold your gaze?

“Want you to fuck me,” she says. “Want you to make me cum so hard I can’t think. Please, I deserve it. I’ve waited so long.”

The filth in those words is ridiculous, so removed from the Yeonhee who wouldn’t curse even if nobody could hear her. The raw confession is a direct trigger to the blood rushing to your shaft. Waited so long. 

Maybe that’s why you lift her onto the bed carelessly. 

Maybe that’s why you tower over her as you hold her legs together, all sane thought out of the window at the sight of the dress bunching up at her hips.

Maybe that’s why despite all the reasons why you shouldn’t do this, you slip your length between her thighs and realize you’ve forever dreamed of doing that. 

The combined wetness from the previous blowjob and the waterfall between her thighs makes you tremble. She’s so fucking wet. Her thighs are slick and allow you to set a mindless pace, chasing after the soft friction they provide. The underside of your cock grinds against her pussy lips, hitting her clit along the way and making her whimper.

“Please, oh god, please—” Her eyes screw shut. It feels way too good. Each part of her tight body is screaming for you to fuck her. The poor thing’s about to cry from desperation.

Yuki, definitely not allowing herself to go without a little gratification, climbs over the bed. Her clothes join Yeonhee’s on the floor. She straddles Yeonhee’s shoulders, lowering herself until she’s seated fully on Yeonhee’s face. Yeonhee makes a little sound of surprise. But if there’s anything you know about Yuki, one taste always makes people come back for more. Once they get their tongue in her mouth or on her clit, it becomes an addiction. It’s the kind you never want to recover from. 

So it’s no surprise when Yeonhee’s hands come up to grip Yuki’s hips. She starts lapping at the soaked flesh eagerly, tongue running along her folds. You can hear just how well she’s eating Yuki out, how wet she’s making her from the obscene sounds filling the suite. 

It’s final. You have to relieve yourself.

You withdraw from the clasp of Yeonhee’s thighs. Sweat shimmers on your bodies. You position yourself at her entrance, and although Yuki’s insane midriff blocks you from her view, you can picture how needy she is, written all over her face and in the way she’s frantically eating Yuki out.

“Fuck!” You can’t take it any longer. Finally, finally push into her. Her spasming walls grip onto you like they won’t dare you to go anywhere. “Yeonhee, you’re so goddamn tight.”

You can barely move. Her pussy has a death grip on you. You can only manage to get more of yourself inside when her walls flutter. 

Yeonhee moans into Yuki’s cunt. You set a deep, relentless pace, each thrust driving her harder into the mattress. Your moans blend into theirs. It’s filthy. You’re hypnotized by how your cock dents the flat of Yeonhee’s tummy, how Yuki’s riding grows more erratic. Her thighs bear the indentations of Yeonhee’s fingernails. 

The only sensation is dizzying pleasure and heat. You’re a triangle of sin, grinding and moaning and pushing against each other. You’ve no idea how it got to this point, but you never want to leave.

“I’m so fucking close,” whimpers Yuki. Her thighs crush Yeonhee’s head. Her hips crash into her mouth again and again. There’s no room to breathe. Her pitchy moans turn into screams. “Oh my god!”

It’s Yuki who shatters first, trembling against Yeonhee’s face. Her juices flood the girl’s mouth and down to the sheets. It dribbles down her chin in messy drops. Soon, you feel the convulsion of Yeonhee’s own body around you, triggered by Yuki’s climax and the overwhelming fullness. Her hole seals around you as she cries out.

“Don’t stop,” orders Yuki. Her voice is rough and low. She dismounts Yeonhee’s mouth so you can hear the full extent of her screams, how good you’re making her feel. “You’re not going anywhere until you cum inside her.”

That’s something you won’t hesitate to obey. Yeonhee’s ecstatic face pulls you over the edge immediately after. Each heavy thrust is met with a bounce of her tits. You fall forward into them before painting her walls with thick cum. 

It’s a total mess. You pity the hotel staff who will have to clean up this room tomorrow. Your cum spills out of Yeonhee’s pussy and into the sheets. Lipstick stains the pillows as a permanent reminder of what happened here. Take a mental note to leave a big tip as a formal apology.

A minimum of a hundred dollars, maybe?

The two women lie panting on the bed. Messy streaks of hair circle Yeonhee’s head like a halo. You smirk. It would be fitting if you hadn’t just creampied her. At least Yuki isn’t pretending to be a saint. Once you’ve got the energy to pull yourself up, tear your body away from theirs, she stops you.

“Where do you think you’re going, boy toy?”

You freeze. Accusation’s written all over Yuki’s face. It’s a challenge you always lose.

“Have you forgotten about me?” Yuki asks. Her mile-long legs have a clear path to you. “You still have to fill my ass up.”

She captures your lips again. The protest dies in your throat. You’ll always give in to her, no matter what, and she knows this well. Her lips taste like strawberry chapstick.

You rub your hand against her arousal, and press a finger against Yuki’s other entrance. She stiffens for a second, then nods frantically against your mouth. Yes, she seems to say without the need for words, yes, please. You replace your fingers with the head of your cock; she lets out a sound that’s pure ecstasy. The teasing penetration is slower, but the chills still run down your back. Her puckered hole is begging to be ruined.

“Stand up,” you command, your voice rough.

Yuki obeys. Sex is the only time you have a semblance of control over her. She quickly retrieves a bottle of lube from the side table drawer. You’re puzzled. She must have kept it in her bag, smirked at the bouncer when he realized what it was.

She turns around and presents herself to you, her shorts around her ankles. You come behind her and help to pull her panties down. 

Yuki lets out a choked sob of anticipation. The leather of the ottoman is cool against her forehead. The crown of your cock kisses the tight rim of her asshole.

“Watch and learn, Yeonhee,” you murmur, and in time with her exhale, you push inside.

She’s a hot vise around you. Yuki lets out a vulgar cry that morphs into a moan. She sounds more and more broken as more inches of your shaft pierce through her plump ass.

Each thrust jolts through her slender frame. The ottoman creaks. Yuki’s knuckles are white where she grips it. Her moans are continuous now, mixed with your name and Yeonhee’s. The latter’s glassy eyes are fixed on the two of you. 

“Fuck, oh fuck, Just like that! Ruin my asshole!”

You feel the coil in your gut tighten. It’s a pressure you know all too well. You reach around Yuki’s hip, your fingers finding her clit, rubbing hard, fast circles.

It sends her over the edge immediately. Her body clamps down on you in rhythmic pulses, pulling the orgasm from you with violent force. You bury yourself to the hilt as far as you can go. Your hands take leverage on her hips as you drive yourself in her asshole again and again.

You slowly pull out. Yuki’s legs feel like jelly. She slumps against the ottoman. You’d help her up but your own bones feel broken. You collapse against the bed beside your other friend. All of you are thoroughly spent. 

“See?” Yuki whispers. Her finger traces Yeonhee’s lower lip. “Now you’ll know what to do next time.”

-

No matter how filthy your story is, it remains what it is: one that shows how fast you grow up. You’ve grown a few inches taller (can’t say the same for the girls), but none the wiser. You’re still young. Graduating won’t magically make you know what to do with your life. A good course doesn’t guarantee a good job. Even Yeonhee’s high grades won’t mean a high salary. If worse comes to worst, you’ll all have to beg Yuki to let you move in with her.

She’d probably call the two of you dumbasses. You’d reason that she has another house anyway—she’s the one who’s got it easier while you and Yeonhee have unsure tomorrows ahead of you. She’d roll her eyes again before agreeing anyway.

But that’s what you think will happen. For now, it’s this:

A furious matriarch knits her brows at the glitchy footage in front of her. She raises a finger in the poor guard’s face and asks why the hell he couldn’t afford better videos when she pays him so well. Now, the pool is ruined and it’s his fault. He failed to protect the villa from three people who could’ve been burglars if they hadn't had a little luck.

“What is this, a charity house? How the hell did they get in?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am—”

“I want you to find out who they are or I’ll have you fired!” she screams, and that’s that. He couldn’t lose his job.

He asks a friend of a friend if they can upscale the video. She does, but the quality of the original is so low that the aftermath is still incomprehensible. The three culprits’ faces are still pixelated. 

All the evidence left at the scene won’t help either. It’s only a wet piece of paper. It’s drenched through the material, resulting in the only readable line being:

dick !!!!!!