Jar Pussy
Sensing the shitty atmosphere, I followed hyung out of the building without a word. For a long while he had sat there with a face like he'd been chewing shit, keeping his mouth shut in silent prayer. The moment the outside air brushed his face, the curses poured out.
"Fucking hell, this is pure shit. Hey, fuck it—that son of a bitch is finished today. I'm posting a proper bad review. I'll bury him."
"Was it that bad, hyung?"
The second we stepped out after draining our loads I took one look at his face and knew he'd taken a hit. A sudden wave of guilt hit me. I was the one who'd dragged him along to blow a load in the first place, and after forty minutes of bus hell the pussy he'd finally tasted had clearly been trash. It wasn't exactly my fault, but the second his expression hardened and the swearing started, the happy afterglow of a good nut drained right out of me and my mood crashed with it.
"No, fuck—there's a limit. You know me. I'm not some picky bastard who sorts through this cunt and that cunt. Normally I eat whatever's put in front of me, enjoy it, and walk out without a word. But a jar pussy? That's a whole different fucking case."
"..."
"That dog-shit son of a bitch wrote a review that was all teeth and swagger, so I hauled my ass all the way out here just to get blue-balled. Couldn't even drain the load. Fuck."
The moment he said he hadn't managed to blow, I understood instantly why his face had been locked up and why the cursing had exploded the second we hit open air. He'd dropped a blood-like fortune of a hundred thousand won, traveled all that way to buy pussy, and then failed at the single most important part—getting off. In the nightlife world that ranked as the absolute worst kind of damage you could take.
"I shoved it in and the pussy was a fucking stadium. No matter how hard I thrust, zero sensation."
"Ah—when you said jar pussy I wondered what you meant. So that's what it was."
"Face like a gorilla, absolute dogshit looks... She even gave me rimming, so I gritted my teeth and took the shitty service, but the second I got to the important part—the actual pussy taste—there was nothing. Fuck."
Listening to him, I felt the damage almost as if it had been my own. From the sound of it his partner's face had been in rough shape, so she'd cranked the service level to compensate and even thrown in rimming. Hyung's mood had loosened up a little, he'd dipped his dick in to sample the goods—and the second he did he realized the pussy was a stadium. He thrust and thrust, poured out every last scrap of energy, and still finished without coming, then just walked out.
"Still, at least you got the rimming. The cunt I saw skipped the back end completely, just half-assed the front and stuck it in right away."
"Ha... fuck. I've had my asshole rimmed raw thousands of times. No thrill left. Looking at your face, though, you seem like you did okay."
"Yes, hyung. Looks were decent and the pussy taste was killer. Skin was a bit dark and rough—looked like she had a few years on her—but still."
"Anyway, fuck it. Never coming back here. I finally get out for some fresh air and end up blue-balled with a massive hit to the ego. Gonna hit a place near home for one more round. If I go straight home like this I won't sleep."
"I basically dragged you here, so it feels pretty shitty that you took the damage."
"Forget it. What can you do? Drain the load, then shut that fucker's business down."
"..."
His anger still hadn't cooled. For the entire forty-minute bus ride home he cursed the Five Valley owner so loud the bus itself seemed ready to leave without us. I kept a little distance, just nodding every five seconds while he ranted nonstop about pussy, forced to sit there and listen to the pure nonsense.
The other passengers kept frowning and glaring at the back seats where we sat, sick of some asshole loudly going on about cunts and that son of a bitch this and that. Seong-uk didn't give a single shit. He just kept repeating himself—Five Valley that fucker wasn't getting away with it, the pussy was a jar pussy—showing off every last drop of his old-man stubbornness without holding back.
When we reached the bus stop near home I told him I'd call later and said goodbye. He was still pissed; all he gave me was a curt "Got it." I had no choice but to head home with heavy feet.
After I got in, scarfed down a quick dinner, and headed to the PC bang like always to grind games, my phone suddenly started vibrating with the Five Valley number on the screen. Instantly all I could think was Fuck, this is going to be a headache.
The Five Valley owner's voice on the other end was pure slime. He went off on me, screaming about how we'd drained our loads just fine and left, so why the hell had a bad review gone up.
We stayed on the line a long time. When the conversation finally hit a lull I seized the chance, said I'd call him back, hung up, killed the game, and logged into the nightlife site.
I started scanning the shop's reviews and immediately found the fresh bad review whose title alone reeked of pure hostility.
Dozens of comments had already piled up under it—total chaos. On top of that, Seong-uk was a three-star user, basically a mid-tier expert on the site. If I didn't clean this up fast the problem was going to explode, and every bit of the fallout would land squarely on me.
That was it.
Seong-uk had walked out without draining his load, still in a foul mood, skipped the whole process of registering in the shop's DB, and just waited for me outside. The partner he'd stuck his dick into that day had been his first customer—and his last.
The Five Valley owner had probably wanted to call Seong-uk directly, but since the guy had left without registering, he had no choice but to call the one who'd made the reservation—me—and go ballistic.
When the owner called I didn't just spill that the only bastard who'd dipped his dick in that bitch's pussy was Seong-uk, but under my relentless questioning he finally had to admit out loud that the jar-pussy partner had only had Seong-uk.
No wonder the owner had been so dead-certain when he instantly named Seong-uk the culprit. Even in the daytime a girl normally took two or three customers. Something felt off.
After the long call I learned Five Valley had only been open a few days. The owner basically begged me: he'd given me, the one who'd actually booked, the shop's flagship pussy, and then had no choice but to pad the numbers by sticking Seong-uk with some random stadium-level jar cunt.
Once I heard the whole story I could actually feel for the pimp bastard—even if he was just a guy who sold pussy for a living. Brand-new shop and already this dogshit mess. I told him I'd do my best to mediate and hung up.
True to form for a pimp, right as I was about to end the call he casually dropped that if the bad review stayed up he'd have no choice but to blacklist me.
My mood went pure shit.
I hadn't done a single fucking thing. Why the hell should I end up on a blacklist?
In the nightlife world getting blacklisted was a bolt from the blue—it could mean you might never be able to use shops again. Sure, if it was only that one place you could just never go back. But plenty of pimps ran multiple shops, and some who'd gone independent and opened new places still shared blacklist lists with their old shops for joint defense. The real killer was the uncertainty of how far it could spread.
Worst case, even shops with no real connection could get a spiteful call: "This dogshit son of a bitch pulled some serious bullshit—never take him." The shop that got the tip might never have had a problem with you, but just for prevention they'd dump you on the list and keep you managed.
On top of that, this wasn't just a private owner-customer spat anymore. A user with real clout on the site had already posted the bad review, so it was effectively public. The problem had ballooned into a massive headache.
Stuck in the middle, I picked up the phone and called Seong-uk, laying out everything from the Five Valley conversation in detail.
He seemed to think I was suddenly Five Valley's official spokesman and started ranting with real emotion, but I gritted my teeth, swallowed the curses rising in my throat, and mediated with extreme patience. In the end Seong-uk and the Five Valley owner talked directly and settled it: in exchange for me getting another free round of the pussy I'd tasted—at cost—the bad review would come down.
After that storm of a day passed, I was still hooked on the pussy taste from yesterday. I completely forgot how little money I had left and started running around alone draining loads. Eventually I was down to a few thousand won in my pocket.
Ah, this is fucking shit.
If I'd taken the damage like Seong-uk I probably wouldn't even be thinking about it. But the pussy had been so good I couldn't control myself—I ran around like a bitch in heat with the leash off, burning cash on more cunt.
Now I was staring down the problem of how to even feed myself tomorrow. My head was too messed up to stay home even a second. I threw on a tracksuit and tank top, shoved my feet into slippers, grabbed the Flea Market and Crossroads papers, and headed to the park near home.
The bench in the middle of the park where I'd sat a few days ago was empty again. I parked my ass there, quietly lit a cigarette.
"Sssssss... haaah..."
Cigarettes outdoors really did taste like honey.
I watched a few aspiring thugs spit and curse for a while, then picked up the Crossroads paper and started scanning the "Other Part-time" section.
Same old nothing today.
A few PC-bang jobs posted days ago that were way too far from home, and the rest was multilevel marketing or useless real-estate gofer shit.
Disappointment written all over my face, ash falling onto my tracksuit without me noticing, I was about to close the paper with a final curse when my hawk eyes locked onto a brand-new hiring notice at the very end of the Other Part-time section.
Counter work / light cleaning & organizing / room and board available — Eden
In that instant a current seemed to race through my whole body, every sense cranked to the limit. Goosebumps rose. Instinct screamed that I absolutely had to go interview for this.
Just looking at the wording it didn't seem any different from a regular PC-bang gig, but what I locked onto was the location and the shop name.
Eden, near So-gu...
No separate PC-bang category—just dumped under Other → Other. This wasn't some ordinary job.
The name alone already had me guessing, but for now it was still only a hunch.
Before I knew it I had the phone out and was dialing the number printed in the paper.
A few rings later a deep, mature male voice came through.
"Yes."
"Hi, I saw the Crossroads ad. You said you're looking for counter help?"
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-eight this year."
"We're pretty short-handed. Can you start today?"
Ten seconds into the conversation and he was already asking if I could start today. I was briefly flustered, but my nose was three feet deep in debt so I steadied myself and kept going.
"Yes, I can."
"Alright, I'll text you the address. Be here by seven-thirty. Call me when you're out front."
"Got it. See you soon."
I hung up. A moment later the text arrived. The second I checked the address I nearly lost it.
That was it.
The address the bastard had just texted me was one of the four major shops you could name in So-gu—specifically a Daettal-bang, a top-tier non-penetrative sex establishment in the area: the Daettal-bang called Eden.
Anyone in the nightlife game wanted to visit this place sitting up in the heavens. Complete idiots weren't even allowed to set foot inside. It was famous for its ruthless membership control.
Even I'd written posts on the site begging people to get me into Eden, pulled every desperate stunt I could think of, and still never cracked it. I'd given up.
Every local bastard who went around draining loads knew Eden's number and exact location. I knew them too. But the final wall—membership registration—had beaten me every single time.
And now that same Eden had desperately needed bodies and posted a help-wanted ad in the Crossroads paper. By pure fate it had landed in front of my eyes while I sat on a park bench smoking. I'd seized the chance.
The vague guess had just become hard fact. I stood up from the bench and hurried my steps toward home.