Women and Alcohol
Women and alcohol.
If there's a reason a man goes insane chasing money, it's one of those two.
"Drinking with you, Sora, feels so damn good."
"If you'd just take your hand off me."
"Aw, why?"
"Don't squeeze so hard!"
I checked both boxes.
I was enjoying excellent liquor and a heavy pair of breasts at the same time.
Kneading them bare is the only real way.
The bra was so large it felt firm underneath. I settled for size and body heat instead.
"This makes me look like some weird girl."
"What kind of girl?"
"…A bar girl."
Even that rankled her pride. It wasn't the touching itself that bothered her so much as the situation. She was wearing a hostess dress. He was fondling her like a plaything. Her self-respect wouldn't allow it.
"Come on. A girl like you would be ace-level at a high-end hostess club."
"You really want me to beat the shit out of you?"
"It's because you're pretty. Because you're pretty."
"You fucking bastard~!"
She threw a full tantrum once, then seemed to resign herself and simply enjoyed the meal like a normal person.
Gulp!
And she ate with real appetite, too. I had no idea about the steak, but I never expected her to handle the liquor. Forty-three percent. To an ordinary person—especially a woman—it could feel like poison.
"Sora."
"What, you asshole."
"This is pretty strong stuff. You okay?"
"It's expensive, so… it's drinkable."
She was pairing it with food, but she still put it to her lips readily enough. It seemed to suit her taste.
A girl who can hold her liquor is nice.
High-end whiskey. You only get the satisfaction of buying it when the other person actually knows the flavor. Some people cut the strong stuff with cola. That made me smile, in its own way.
"But are you sure this is okay?"
"Hm?"
"It's expensive liquor. You didn't swap it for something cheap because I wouldn't know the difference, did you?"
Sora seemed genuinely worried. Ballantine's 30 Year. It was practically synonymous with expensive whiskey.
To ordinary people, sure.
The kind of bottle a father would keep on display just to brag. But expensive whiskey didn't always mean you had to buy it expensive.
"A hundred and eighty thousand won?"
"Yeah."
"Not as expensive as I thought."
"It's the old-style bottle."
Premium spirits. Too pricey to crack open casually. That was why people sold the bottles they received as gifts.
And they release new stock every year.
The older ones got cheaper. The packaging just wasn't as sleek as the modern versions.
Click—!
Especially the old-style. This was a Ballantine's 30 Year made before the twenty-first century. I opened another bottle that had already been emptied once. When I shook it, maybe a quarter of a shot was left.
"It's not a cork?"
"Nope."
"I figured something this expensive would definitely have a cork…"
A common misconception. People assumed expensive liquor came with corks and cheap stuff with screw caps.
Same with wine—people have been brainwashed into thinking cork equals premium.
It hadn't always been that way.
"Screw caps were invented in 1970."
"Surprisingly recent."
"Back then, screw caps were actually the high-end option."
Cutting-edge technology. Looked novel. Even premium spirits eagerly adopted them.
Even Macallan bottles from that era came with screw caps.
Screw caps sold well. Which meant corks didn't. The cork companies, feet to the fire, cooked up a scheme. They launched a premiumization marketing campaign.
"I see."
"Even drinking a single glass can teach you history. If you really savor it, you can pick out the casks they used back then, the key malt, the ratio of malt to grain…"
"Senior, you've got a bit of an otaku side, don't you?"
"…"
On pure taste alone, the old-style beat the modern version. Better whiskey had gone into it, the proof was higher, and there was an extra fifty milliliters.
But the way prices get set is a different story.
Just like stocks. This company makes more money—so why are these random other companies flying? There's always a reason. In that sense, whiskey could be classified as an investment asset too. You analyzed value the same way.
"So then… couldn't this one get expensive in reverse?"
"How?"
"Because it tastes better. At the very least the prices could even out."
"If vintage becomes trendy or something."
"Oh!"
Investor isn't a job title. It's more accurate to call it a way of life. The extreme point is when everything starts looking like an investment target.
And the prices really do climb quite a bit.
Since 2010, whiskey had been the luxury good whose price rose the most. Safer than real estate, even. You couldn't mass-produce old whiskey. Investment didn't have to be limited to stocks.
"Thinking about it that way is kind of fun."
"Right?"
"Senior, aren't you groping my chest a little too much?"
"You feeling something?"
"Nah, it just tickles."
You could drink like this, too. Once the alcohol hit, even the stiff, prickly Sora softened a little. But as a man, my pride was wounded. If she wasn't feeling it, I'd torment her until she did.
Smack!
I stole her lips. She flinched in surprise, but since it was the same thing we'd been doing a moment ago, she accepted it without protest.
Feed her a little more liquor while I'm at it.
I let it flow in with my saliva. I transferred the whiskey mouth-to-mouth, little by little. Surprisingly, she was responding quite seriously. I pulled Sora tight against me.
Snap!
I ran a hand down her back. The bra hooks came undone with almost no effort. I slipped my hand inside and managed to pull the whole thing free. I finished swallowing the whiskey and broke the kiss.
"What was that all of a sudden."
"W-well."
"Just for today? The kissing."
"Okay, okay. I'll treasure it as a precious memory."
Maybe it was the alcohol, but she let it slide somehow. I tossed the bra under the bed.
Jesus, they're huge.
I'd thought they might snag because they were bigger than expected. Luckily her guard had dropped quite a bit. Her eyes were glazed. Eyelids half-closed. Her cheeks were completely flushed. I'd confirmed it last time too—she had no real sense of her own limits. She was riding the mood.
Pop!
"Whoa! More liquor. Cork this time."
"It's a sweet one. Want a glass?"
"Yeah!"
She beamed. For a Sora like that, I opened a bottle of ice wine.
Glug glug glug~
A white. Sweet yet clean, perfect as an after-dinner pour.
"It's good!"
"Is it?"
"Yeah!"
"Want another?"
Sora thrust her glass out eagerly. That luxurious peach flavor was definitely seductive.
Smack!
I took a sip myself. Her already delicious lips had turned sweet and sticky, which only made me want them more.
Bare breasts really are the best.
I waited for the right moment and put strength into my hand. With only a thin layer of fabric between us, I felt everything. My fingers sank into the soft flesh. And still the shape held—impressive.
"Haa~ smack! Ehehe."
"Kissing okay?"
"Just today, only today~."
Sora seemed thoroughly high on the mood. Completely unlike herself, she was laying on the aegyo. As if taking revenge, she took a mouthful of wine. She misjudged the amount and her cheeks puffed out.
Gulp! Gulp!
Mixed with her saliva, it was sweet. While we kissed I quietly moved my right hand.
Oh, her nipples are hard.
Inside the dress. Hostess dresses were made for exactly this kind of fun. Something firm caught between my index and middle fingers. Smaller than expected. Sadly, not a big pie.
"You're a good kisser, Sora."
"Am I?"
"You've got experience, don't you?"
"I do~."
"…With who?"
"With Daddy!"
I'd clearly overdone the pouring. She was grinning idiotically, and her vocabulary had regressed to toddler level.
Her first time and she's learning this fast? Crazy bitch.
Still, she was good at what she'd learned. I asked just in case—it wasn't incest.
"Right, if you did it with Daddy then it's not your first."
"Yeah!"
"Did Daddy put his tongue in too?"
"Would he?!"
A little reason still remained, apparently. She flailed and tried to punch me with her fists. Thump thump!
Smack!
I didn't let my guard down and fed her more liquor. This time not wine—the strong whiskey.
If she's this tipsy, it should go down fine.
Same amount as before. But the proof was different. She accepted it with pure innocence. We'd finished the half-bottle of wine. Combined with the whiskey, it was roughly two bottles of soju.
"Hic!"
She was half-gone. I decided to freely enjoy the now-docile Sora's breasts.
Right—she did give permission for the chest.
I squeezed hard. Exactly as I'd imagined a hundred times in my head—elastic. Even without the bra, the shape held. No sag at all. Perfectly firm, springy breasts. I kneaded them. No—it was closer to caressing. Premised on her getting aroused.
Just tickles, she said? Even if she's only ticklish, I'll make her come from that alone.
A pure white canvas. Everything would depend on how you drew the first sketch.
"Ah! Aang…"
When I applied pressure, there was a reaction. As she'd said herself, she seemed a bit on the frigid side.
Those are the ones who go completely crazy once they learn.
Big breasts simply meant the erogenous zones were spread wider. And they were hidden deeper—under the fat layer. I stimulated them little by little, waking them up. The button was the little bean right in the center. I rolled it gently with my fingers. Every time I clenched my palm tight around her, the intervals between her heartbeats shortened.
There's real satisfaction in training them.
Breasts this firm depended entirely on how you developed them. Whether she lived out her life frigid, or became a woman who unconsciously remembered a man's hands. I hoped for the latter.
"Senior."
"…"
"I feel weird. I wanna sleep."
She was still conscious. Fortunately she didn't seem fully lucid—she had no real grasp of the situation. She spread both arms in a gesture that said hold me. I held her exactly as she wished.
Gulp!
Then I stood. Whether it was because all the strength had left her body or because they were just that massive, she was heavy.
Who cares. As long as she tastes good.
The bed. No—the dining table. When I laid her on it, she looked almost unbearably delicious. Blood rushed south so hard it hurt. The Sora lying there, silent, was intoxicatingly attractive.
Smooch!
I pounced. I ate her lips while freely groping her chest. Suddenly I got curious about lower down.
What do I do, what do I do…
There had been no promise about going that far. But there hadn't been a promise not to, either.