The First Client
"Haa... Heuk."
My hips refused to move any longer. The stimulation had already pushed them to their absolute limit, leaving every nerve raw and hypersensitive. My brain, fighting against pleasure that had crossed into excess, was now imposing restrictions on my body’s functions.
"I really can’t do this anymore… Let’s stop here."
I tried to meet her eyes, my gaze heavy with exhaustion, but before I could focus, her arms draped over my shoulders and yanked me downward.
"Mmph."
My face sank fully into the soft, yielding warmth of her breasts. The lewd scent rising from her bare skin, thick and sticky, kept winding around me, binding me tighter.
"You want to keep refusing?"
She wrapped her legs around my waist and squeezed hard. Our already pressed bodies locked together like a sealed mechanism.
"I’ve been the one moving the whole time, so this once, you do it."
Her hand stroked through my hair. With every breath she took, pheromones saturated with lust, excitement, and raw arousal seeped into me.
I knew that, but… it genuinely wouldn’t get hard anymore. Even trying felt terrifying.
"Still, if it’s too difficult, you should rest."
She unwound her legs and released my body. It had been a long time since I’d tasted any freedom from her.
My suddenly liberated body couldn’t control itself properly after the prolonged, violent exertion. Even the simple act of removing the condom sent overwhelming shocks through my overstimulated nerves.
I tied it off tightly and tossed it into the trash bin, then staggered toward the refrigerator on unsteady legs. I pulled out cold water and drank with desperate thirst. The sweat I’d lost and the fluids taken from me were finally, slowly being replenished.
"What time is it now?"
With the curtains drawn tight in her room, I couldn’t even tell how the hours had passed.
"It’s almost dinner time," she offered while idly playing with her phone during the brief lull, giving me the only useful piece of information I’d received in hours.
…So I had been doing this all day.
"Let’s wash up and go eat something. I’m hungry."
And I’m so exhausted. Please, just stop.
"Hmm~"
She ran her hand slowly over her own stomach, seemingly deep in thought.
No—if she’s thinking about it, that means she still hasn’t had enough…?
"Shall we?"
Thank god.
"Do you know any good places nearby? Meat would be nice."
While gathering my clothes scattered all over the room, I tried to think about dinner options.
Instead of answering, her arm slid between mine. The way her hands caressed my chest and stomach still carried unmistakably sexual intent.
"I said we should stop now…" I turned to face Jeong Soyeon. Or rather, I looked up at her.
She slowly sank lower. Her neck came into view, then her captivating lips. Our eyes met for a moment before her head continued downward until she stopped right in front of my crotch.
Kneeling on the floor, she wrapped her arms around my hips and gazed up at me.
"Just one last time. A little appetizer before dinner."
I had thought the stimulation would finally ease, and it had begun to subside, but the electric pleasure that numbed my nervous system roared back to life.
"Ah… ugh, I’m really going to pass out at this rate…"
I pleaded with raw desperation, but she ignored me completely and continued working her tongue.
"Noona, please. Really… please."
The more I begged, the tighter she gripped me and the more intensely she increased the stimulation.
"No…ona—haah! Noona…!!"
The pleasure had become pain, spreading through my entire body until standing became nearly impossible. Ecstasy that had long exceeded my daily limit bleached my mind completely white.
"Slurp, slurp, chu, sluuuurp."
The lewd sounds came with warmth, slickness, stickiness, and textured friction that flooded my senses.
"Hi… euuuu."
Trembling violently, I released what was truly only a tiny amount of semen. Yet the convulsions spread through every limb, contorting my body in a way that made the first orgasm feel insignificant by comparison.
She kneaded my buttocks for a moment before finally pulling her mouth away.
"Phew…" I collapsed where I stood, trying to reboot a brain that had been wiped blank.
She rose with a satisfied expression and placed a hand on my head, gently stroking my hair.
"My sweet baby. Noona will stop here for today, okay?"
It had been a while since I last returned home. I usually texted Mom whenever I’d be late, but this time I hadn’t had a spare moment to contact her. I’d expected her to be worried sick, yet she sat in the living room looking perfectly calm, watching one of those trending TV programs.
"Got yourself a girlfriend? So our son’s finally started staying out all night~?"
I didn’t even have the strength to answer her properly.
"Yeah… I’m home."
I gave a half-hearted greeting and collapsed onto my bed for the first time in what felt like ages.
Sex turned out to be far more exhausting than I’d imagined. The image of myself twitching and spurting, still completely spent, and Jeong Soyeon’s arms wrapped tightly around me replayed vividly in my mind.
I’d probably need to start eating more of those foods that were supposed to be good for the body.
After that intense first experience, I stopped by her house every day after school. It wasn’t the insane routine of having sex from morning till night, but we would spend time together and share passionate, heated lovemaking whenever the mood struck. She wanted it far more often than I did, though…
"The practicum starts next week."
The topic came up while we lay side by side, my face buried in her chest, savoring the feel of her.
I lifted my head just enough to meet her eyes and answered.
"Are you nervous?"
She smiled softly. It was the smile of a mother looking at her child. She drew closer and pressed a warm kiss to my lips.
"I am nervous."
After a kiss overflowing with affection, she stroked me and continued.
"I’m nervous you might get hurt."
Her eyes, her expression, her voice—they all showed genuine concern for me.
"I’m nervous that you might get hurt too, Noona."
I burrowed back into her embrace. Her scent penetrated deep inside me. She hugged me tightly. For a moment, I thought I felt her arms tremble slightly.
"Why do you want to become a counselor?" she asked seriously.
"It’s a difficult path, isn’t it? The pay isn’t great, the work isn’t easy, and you’ll probably live under constant stress from every client you see."
Her anxiety flowed clearly through her words.
"Well…" I breathed in her scent deeply while considering my answer.
"Because I’ve struggled so much myself, I don’t want to watch other people struggle either."
I wasn’t sure if it was the answer she wanted, but I spoke my honest thoughts. Sometimes, simply being truthful with yourself and others is the wisest choice.
"I see…" She pulled me into an even tighter embrace.
I wanted to ask why she had chosen counseling too, but I swallowed the question. She would tell me one day.
"Jihyun."
"Yes."
"I’m truly sorry for asking this of my own student, but… please take good care of her."
"There’s no need to apologize."
There must have been a compelling reason.
"I’ll take my leave now. Jihyun, don’t feel burdened. If it’s you, I know you can handle it."
"Yes. Thank you."
Professor Kim stepped out the door. The moment he left, the room felt overwhelmingly empty.
This was the Counseling Clinic run by one of Professor Kim’s acquaintances. The space had a distinctly professional atmosphere that didn’t seem intended for a mere intern like me. They had told me to decorate it however I liked, but there wasn’t much I could add. It looked like a freshly vacated office—bare and hollow.
In truth, if professional credibility mattered, filling this space was an important factor. Clients would sit across from me, glance around, and absorb information about who I was. The books on the shelves, the certificates on the walls, the documents on the desk covered in specialized terminology. Those elements built trust and presented me as a genuine counselor.
But in the current situation, they might actually work against me. These clients had probably already seen other professionals. The fact that they were being referred to me suggested those previous attempts hadn’t succeeded.
It would be better to create an atmosphere that felt like an ordinary neighborhood person with no pretensions. I needed to give the impression that I was different from every counselor they had met before.
In the brief time I had, I pondered why it had to be me. No clear answer emerged. Not every line of thought leads to a solution.
Soon I would face my first client. The professor’s daughter. A high school senior struggling with maladjustment to adults and an aversion to members of the same sex. I told myself not to dwell on the fact that she was the professor’s daughter. The hierarchical difference between us might create obstacles in the counseling process.
Footsteps approached. I took a slow, deep breath and steadied my mind. The footsteps stopped. The doorknob turned. The door opened, and a girl stepped inside. Our eyes met.