Racing Girl Jin Na-hee and the Savage Drift Video #23
“Fuuuck...”
Han Dae-jin barely dragged himself up from the floor of Kim Ji-hyun’s lecture room. Kim Ji-hyun was crashed out on the sofa in nothing but her panties and bra, while Jin Na-hee lay sprawled in the corner of the room. The table was littered with whiskey bottles from the early hours and half-eaten delivery snacks.
Feeling his movement, Kim Ji-hyun stirred, raking back her messy hair as she sat up. “Fuck... what time is it...? Ugh, already 11 a.m.” She glanced at her wristwatch and started grabbing her clothes.
“Nothing on today?” Han Dae-jin asked.
“Nah.”
“Let’s do some hangover recovery then. Wake Na-hee unnie up.”
Right on cue, Jin Na-hee yawned and sat up.
The three of them shuffled to a nearby McDonald’s for a burger cure.
“Hangover with hamburgers...? Really?” Jin Na-hee mumbled through a mouthful.
“Hey, better than that watered-down blood sausage soup bullshit,” Kim Ji-hyun shot back. Jin Na-hee nodded in agreement.
On the way back from McDonald’s, Han Dae-jin nudged Jin Na-hee’s shoulder. “What?”
“Unnie, ever thought about shooting a video together? Views would go fucking nuclear.”
Jin Na-hee snorted a laugh. “You’re obsessed with views, you maniac. How many subs you got now?”
Han Dae-jin pulled up his YouTube channel. It had crossed 1,000 subscribers. “Oolala,” Jin Na-hee teased, smacking his head. “When?”
“Tonight work? Where’s your place again?”
She checked her phone schedule—blissfully empty for once. “Gimpo. I’ll pin the coords, meet me in the lot.”
They locked in 10 p.m. Kim Ji-hyun tagged along for the show.
Back in Osan, Han Dae-jin showered and flopped onto his bed. His mind kept replaying those close calls with Kim Ji-hyun. Stuck my tongue and fingers in—still got it goin’ strong... Lewd thoughts flooded in. He groped himself but soon gave up; no juice left.
“Didn’t stick it in her pussy, so no real fuck—just mutual jerking, right?” Her words looped endlessly.
A surge of horniness hit. He couldn’t hold back and called Kim Ji-ho.
She picked up. “Hey, out with the hubby, you fucker—hang up. Huh? Oh, friend. Hang up.” Click—husband nearby.
Han Dae-jin roared and headbutted the wall. This dickhead’s fault I’m suffering.
He dialed HR next. Min Hee-yeon sounded alone at home but brushed him off with a “later” and hung up.
Han Dae-jin wailed into his pillow, then jerked off again. This time, Yoon Ha-rin: her huge tits bouncing as she rode him hard. His hand sped up. Climax hit; she vanished. He cleaned up with tissue, drowning in pathetic shame.
Same time, Gu Eun-jae was knocking back makgeolli near Achasan with that film director from before. A few drinks in, his eyes gleamed with lust—she clocked it.
“What’s up, Director? Feeling frisky again?”
“You working out these days, Eun-jae?”
“Yeah, agency’s on my ass with diets. What a joke at my age.” She smirked mysteriously, lit a cigarette. He held the flame; she exhaled smoke and slid her foot into his crotch, toes kneading.
He stared, flustered. “Time to bounce?”
He cleared his throat, stood. She followed. Hot pants and tank top showed off her ripped abs and navel.
While he paid, she scrolled SNS on her NineSilver account. Club Assa post: Han Dae-jin crushed Exose and Chilgong crews last night.
“Busy boy,” she muttered. He approached: “What?”
“Just those car kids.”
“Weird tastes. Violent street racer talk.”
“Find a motel quick. Gotta bang and bounce.”
“Schedule?”
“Nah, but you got people to tend to.”
“Tonight’s all you, Eun-jae.” He smacked her ass playfully as they walked.
She chuckled, leading him into a nearby motel.
Post-shower, they hit the bed for fierce kisses, fingers exploring. She sucked him off while grinding her pussy on his face—smooth-shaven, spit-slick.
She shuddered, got him rock-hard, then mounted, slamming her hips like she’d kill him. He blacked out from blood pressure; came inside her quick.
She wiped the leak with tissue, dismounted, sucked him back to life.
“Round two?”
“Ugh, you drain the life outta me at your age.”
“It’s me. Gu Eun-jae.” Laughing, she kissed him and snuggled in.
Evening. Han Dae-jin geared up for the shoot. Kim Ji-ho called.
“What? Hubby fun today?”
“Loads. You fuck—boss called first? No, you hung up and jerked again, perv.”
He admitted it. “Knew it. What tonight?”
“YouTube shoot. You won’t fuck me, so whaddya want?” He hung up after pleasantries.
In the Avante N, he fired it up, warmed the engine. Drove to the empty Gimpo lot. Wasn’t this where Kim Ji-hyun sucked me off once?
Waited past time—no Jin Na-hee. Kim Ji-hyun arrived, waiting too.
Her call: “Yeah, what’s up?” Han Dae-jin snapped.
“Parents needed help. Shoot from here—I’ll pin coords. Grab chicken too.”
They drove separately to her parents’ spot: dingy Incheon alley chicken joint. Her bike and purple Morning Z35 parked out front.
They parked, went in. Apron-clad Jin Na-hee greeted warmly from the counter. “Order up.”
“Boneless fried.”
“Uh... okay, two. You eat too.”
Kim Ji-hyun blinked but offered Jin Na-hee too. “Customers around.”
She passed the order to the kitchen, cleared a just-left table solo.
They sipped cola, waited. Chicken arrived—old-school batter like yeoltuseok. Han Dae-jin devoured, impressed. Kim Ji-hyun grinned through bites.
Closing time hit; Jin Na-hee finally sat. “Sorry, Dae-jin. No schedule, but parents begged—help short-staffed.”
They waved it off, encouraged her.
“What’s in Incheon anyway?”
“Closing soon—Namsan Fortress? Or Okjeongjae?”
“Namsan. Okjeongjae’s too remote this late.” Consensus.
Cleanup done, they piled into cars for Namsan Fortress. Han Dae-jin kept filming YouTube B-roll the whole way.