Shooting
Lately, I’ve come to the bone-deep realization that the world is absolutely overflowing with shit worth chewing on.
While I was busting my ass dealing with the gym, both Seo Jia and Haeun’s scandals had sunk so far beneath the surface they might as well have evaporated.
The minor gallery that had briefly blown up over Haeun got shut down after the admin apparently lost interest. During the hiatus, it was flooded with dirty photos and the whole thing was closed. No one seemed interested in making a new one, so I went ahead and created a fresh gallery myself. A few people trickled in and left posts, but it went right back to being a quiet, deserted corner—just like before the scandal broke.
In the end, I’d only gained subscribers while drifting further from any real buzz, and most of the people who were going to leave had already left. If I had to call it, maybe it was still a net positive.
Haeun’s YouTube comments had returned to their usual mix of body-evaluation remarks and praise, and Seo Jia was carrying on with her schedule like nothing had ever happened.
Same with Hinami.
The only thing left after this whole fiasco was the constant worry that a paparazzo might be tailing me at any moment.
Meeting Hinami in private was now nothing more than a dream.
I barely got to see Seo Jia unless she was upstairs.
On the other hand, I could do pretty much anything with Haeun without much consequence—but even so, I found myself hesitating to tug on her choker and mess around with her out in public like I used to.
I was far more aware of people’s gazes than I had been during my athlete days. Even just walking down the street, a needless tension clung to my body.
I already knew that becoming famous wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
But actually feeling that pressure again after so long was more uncomfortable than I’d expected.
-I miss you.
These days, Hinami—who I hadn’t been able to see—sent me messages every single day.
She knew it was hard for us to meet, but she still whined and acted spoiled, telling me how much she missed me.
She reported her daily life without fail and always sent me sweaty photos the moment her schedule ended.
Her behavior was so much like an abandoned kitten that I actually felt a little sorry for her. Still, that didn’t mean I could just show up at her place.
Her coming to my house was honestly pushing it, too.
…Maybe I should ask Seo Jia for a favor.
She’d seemed a bit unstable lately herself.
My account was originally for that kind of thing, so when I saw a familiar pair of pajamas and wallpaper in a retweeted post from one of the accounts I followed, I was genuinely surprised.
For a second I thought Haeun had secretly taken and uploaded it, but after checking the pajama pattern and breast size, I figured it out.
I had no idea what kind of change of heart Seo Jia had gone through to start enjoying this kind of deviance, but as long as she didn’t get caught, I wasn’t in any position to criticize.
After getting absolutely battered by malicious comments from baseless rumors, I could only guess that the stress had made her snap.
Well, considering she’d sucked my cock just because Hinami scratched her, it wasn’t all that strange.
That’s just the kind of woman she was.
Insanely proud, with a massive superiority complex.
The only real problem was the chance she might get caught… but while I had threatened her, the odds weren’t actually that high.
As long as she didn’t take pictures showing the patterned pajamas and wallpaper like last time, it should be fine.
If she covered her hands, erased the mole completely, and slapped on that much editing, there was no way anyone who hadn’t visited the apartment would recognize her.
At this point, those photos were basically paintings, not pictures.
The real Seo Jia’s skin that I’d touched was a little darker and had more blood flow than what was shown.
And unlike the photos, you could see veins on her breasts. Faintly, but they were there.
“What are you looking at?”
“Ah, it’s nothing.”
“Porn again?”
“Yeah.”
“…You’re not even making up excuses anymore.”
I was lying on the bed inside the soundproof booth, scrutinizing the photos, when Haeun—fresh out of the shower—walked over and lay down beside me.
Her outfit was… well. Ordinary enough.
It was a nun’s habit, but there was nothing holy about it.
When she slipped her thigh between my legs in that getup, I lightly ran my fingers over her garter belt and spoke to her.
“Why not? I can look if I want. I need to look at stuff like this to take the pictures.”
“What pictures?”
“The ones we’re going to sell to our grateful fans.”
“You said you weren’t making excuses, but you’re pulling them out like a ghost.”
Like the saying goes—row when the tide comes in. We were seriously thinking about making money.
We’d just been putting it off because of my personal circumstances.
Now that the gym had stabilized to a certain degree and Seo Jia couldn’t touch me anymore, there was no need to hold back.
Just one step beyond YouTube.
A little more explicit, but without increasing the actual exposure. Photos at that level.
If we packaged them and sold them on a subscription basis, it was obvious the revenue would surpass the gym’s sales.
Even the pretty mediocre YouTube membership already brought in decent money.
“For now, sit on the bed. I’ll finish quickly so you can rest.”
“Okay.”
To be honest, I didn’t have any deep knowledge of cameras or photography, so I wasn’t about to produce anything artistically profound.
But searching the internet for hot photos, recreating similar compositions, and editing them wasn’t particularly difficult.
After all, what the people buying the photos wanted wasn’t beauty—it was eros.
I knew better than anyone exactly how much of Haeun to show to make it erotic, and which parts to hide to make it even hotter. There was zero chance of failure.
If anything was difficult, it was controlling the intensity.
“…So, what pose do you want?”
“Lie down, tuck your legs, and hold a cigarette in your mouth.”
“Like this?”
“Yeah. Good. Stay still.”
Today’s concept was a very delinquent nun.
It didn’t expose her cleavage, but the shoulders were cut out and the fabric clung tightly to her body in a lewd way.
It wasn’t short, but the side slits revealed her thighs completely. With the stockings and garter belt, no matter how you looked at it, she looked more like a fallen saint than a nun.
Just looking at her gave off an overwhelming sense of corruption.
I put a cigarette she’d never smoked in her life between the lips of that nun and took a shot from an angle that nicely captured her pelvis and the navel hidden beneath the habit.
“…Next?”
“Pull your knees together and sit. Don’t lift your head too much. Look at the camera.”
Then I moved the camera above the bed and took another shot looking down at her.
A very displeased nun glaring up at me.
I captured the three-dimensional curves that the habit couldn’t hide, then moved behind her and shot her from the back in the same pose.
“…Isn’t the back not that exposed?”
“It’s hot even if it’s not.”
I captured the way the thin habit clung to her ass, clearly outlining her underwear. Then I snatched the cigarette from her mouth, gave her a light push so she lay face-down, straddled the back of her knees, and took another shot.
“…Wait a second.”
As I watched her sprawled on the bed through the LCD screen, I changed my mind and flipped her toward me.
I turned her head toward the wall, placed a pillow in her hands, and brought the camera close again, framing everything from her thighs to the top of her head.
“…Can I look back?”
“You can. Ah, wait. Turn the other way.”
I grabbed her head as she turned it to the right and made her look the other way.
I captured everything—stockings, garter belt, the slight glimpse of her ass, her breasts pressed against the bed, her bare shoulders, and the soft flesh of her armpits—in a single shot.
…Exactly the intensity I wanted.
Many people would get excited looking at this photo, but it was at just the right level that they couldn’t possibly infer what her bare skin looked like.
Satisfied, I took several more shots in similar compositions before, without thinking, I gave Haeun’s ass a firm smack.
“What the… Are we doing it?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“…If it’s not that, then what?”
It had been such a habitual action that Haeun, after getting her ass slapped, naturally reached back to undo her garter belt and slipped her fingers into her underwear.
I tried to stop her, but she grabbed my hand instead and pressed it against her ass, rubbing it roughly.
At this rate, it didn’t look like we’d finish the shoot today, so I shook her hand off, got off the bed, and captured the slightly disheveled nun in a full-body shot.
“…If you want to do it, just say you want to do it.”
“I told you it’s not that.”
“You’re hard, though.”
“We’ll do it after we finish shooting. After we finish.”
The moment I got off, Haeun—who had been lying face-down—immediately sat up. With a slightly pouty expression, she looked at the camera and struck a natural pose.
One leg stretched out, body leaning the opposite way.
I took shots from various angles that emphasized the curves of her body—especially her hips and breasts—when her outstretched hand suddenly touched me and I flinched.
“Hey. What are you doing?”
“…I thought it would look sexier like this?”
Her reaching up toward me from below, looking up with those eyes.
Where her hand that slipped out of the frame was headed, at least the photo alone wouldn’t reveal.
I captured the sight of her slipping her hand under my t-shirt and groping below my navel, then brought the camera even closer, focusing on her chest.
“…Isn’t this too explicit?”
“Maybe.”
The full, abundant curve of her breasts filling the frame.
But only the outline.
Neither the shape of her nipples, the color of her areolas, nor the soft texture of those breasts was captured in the photo.
Even so, as I kept shooting her intently, she smiled with lips that were outside the frame and moved the hand that had been touching me to her own breast, gently caressing it.
“Hey.”
“Why? …We can just treat it as a B-cut and not upload it.”
Then she did it more intensely.
Enough that you could imagine exactly how her breasts felt beneath that thin fabric.
“Actually, I don’t mind if you upload it. …It’s not like there’s any real exposure.”
“…”
I captured the moment her fingers dug into the fabric and soft flesh, sinking deep.
…I stared at her, who was smiling seductively at me from outside the frame.
I turned the camera off for a moment, then pushed her shoulder and knocked her over.
“Kyaa! What are you doing to this sacred nun?”
“You wanna change your tone at least while you act?”
I grabbed the breast of the woman who was reading her lines in a completely mismatched acting voice.
“…You’re making side dishes to sell to other people, but you’re secretly eating them yourself?”
“What’s wrong with that? …Stolen food always tastes better.”
…With the material other men would jerk off to in my hands,
I peeled back just enough of the wrapping that it wouldn’t be noticeable.
And for quite a long time, I savored it thoroughly.
After the tasting was over,
the wrapping had gotten a little wet.