The Daughter's Sin is the Mother's Sin (5)
Just like a heartbeat, the part-timer's cock throbbed with a thump!
Imagining what this bitch standing before him would be doing tonight had him naturally getting hard.
The part-timer stepped closer to the woman, trying to hide his erection under the counter. But the moment he did, she made it obvious she was displeased, turning her head away and taking a step back as if to say, Why are you getting so close?
You're buying this much rubber just to fuck some random guy, but you can't even stand me taking one step toward you?! the part-timer screamed inwardly, but in reality, he didn't have the guts to say that to her face.
High-ranking civil servant? Prosecutor? Lawyer? He couldn't tell from her looks alone, but she exuded an overwhelming air of arrogance that made a mere night-shift convenience store clerk like him shrink back.
"Ring me up. Hurry."
The woman snapped at him, clearly annoyed that buying these things in a place like this was taking time. She'd switched to casual speech at some point, but it felt so natural coming from her that the part-timer didn't even think to question it.
Beep!
Black stockings. White stockings.
Beep!
Finger cots.
Beep!
Strawberry-flavored condoms.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
A ton of energy drinks. And then, oddly elegant amid the pile of lewd items on the counter, a fancy fountain pen.
More barcodes followed—items destined for tonight's fuckfest between the woman and some mystery man.
The part-timer fondled the strawberry condoms with his fingers, lost in fantasy. Soon, some guy's massive cock would slide into them, and that cock would plunge into this woman's...
He swallowed hard and looked up. Her white blouse was damp, turning sheer, revealing the short skirt beneath. It was an H-line pencil skirt, but her thick thighs pushed it aside like dolphin pants, squeezing together at the end where her plump thighs met—hiding a pussy crushed tight and begging to be seen. Something a lowly night-shift clerk like him would never get to lay eyes on.
"Hey, you—! Where are you looking? Hurry up and ring it up."
The woman slammed the counter with a bang! and yelled at him. Startled by her outburst, the part-timer fumbled to scan the rest, catching her muttering under her breath.
"A convenience store clerk like you... staring at whoever..."
His hands began to shake. From humiliation? Nah, that shit had vanished long ago after dealing with endless asshole customers during his shifts. No, it was envy. Pure, burning envy for that mystery man driving him insane.
While he slaved away for minimum wage on a night like this, some unknown bastard was balls-deep in the kind of bitch every guy dreamed of—right when the world was fast asleep. And he didn't even grovel for it. Hell, he made her buy the embarrassing shit men were supposed to get.
What kind of guy was he? The kind who sent a prime piece like her on a late-night errand to buy condoms to stuff in her pussy.
"Payment."
The woman thrust her card at him, the one she'd slipped onto her finger. He glanced at it. Even from a look, he could tell—it wasn't for just anyone. Annual fees in the tens of thousands, easy.
No need to ask, and normally he'd never bother, just process it as lump sum. But he wanted to say something—anything—to her, so he mustered his courage.
"Um... installments?"
"Installments? What the hell, at a convenience store? Lump sum. ...What are you doing? Hurry up!"
She shot back.
Deflated, he couldn't ask more and did as she wanted.
"Want me to bag it for you?"
"You think I'm carrying this by hand?"
Her rude sarcasm pissed him off, but he couldn't snap back at her. Meekly, he packed the items into plastic bags. He'd scold her later—in the bathroom. In his imagination, of course. One that he'd milk for a long, long time.
He'd gone to the trouble of bagging it all, but she didn't even offer a polite thanks—just snatched her card and bags, shoved the door open roughly, and stormed out.
The part-timer, who never bothered with customer farewells, suddenly felt polite this time. He followed her to the door, calling out, "Come again!"
His eyes locked on her ass as she crossed the street diagonally, her heels clicking clack-clack. His cock, which had softened under her scolding, stiffened right back up.
Worried she'd sense his stare and turn, he shut the door and retreated inside. But that didn't kill the envy. He peered out. It was dark, hard to see, but across the street, in the alley she was heading to, a tall guy stood waiting.
Probably older, richer, better educated than me... He tried to console himself—until headlights from a speeding car lit up the man's face. He looked just as young as the part-timer. No more rationalizing.
What crushed him further was how the man treated the woman who'd shown up with bags full of condoms for tonight.
The bitch who'd been a total tyrant to him handed the bags to the man submissively, but he didn't take them. Instead...
Her body suddenly lurched. It was dark, but he swore he heard a thwack! No way—was she being threatened by this shady guy? Her posture, doubled over clutching her stomach, fueled the suspicion.
Shocked, the part-timer flung the door open and rushed out. Fantasies flashed: [Save the raped girl, win her heart, they end up dating and hit the motel]. But before he could charge across, she beat him back to the store.
Running in heels that looked ready to snap her ankle, she didn't stop. No sunglasses now, face visible in the dim light.
She burst through the open door. He psyched himself up: Call the cops? Or say I'll protect you? Corny lines, but before he could speak...
"Receipt... haa—receipt, you didn't throw it out yet, right?"
"Huh? Oh—yeah, yeah."
"Hurry, give it."
He dug through the trash by the counter and handed it over. She snatched it without a word of thanks and bolted back into the dark street.
She came like night fog and vanished like morning dew. But traces of her lingered in the store.
To savor the angel-faced devil, he walked to where she'd panted, sniffing deeply.
Heavy booze from behind her mask. Faint sweat, a tantalizing, fragrant tease from under her damp armpits. And moans. Excited moans. The horny bitch's gasps as she rushed to her stud. She hadn't noticed, but a faint smile had played on her lips—eager for what was coming with him.
Dazed, he watched her silhouette fade into the dark. It wasn't lack of courage that kept him silent. He'd figured out who she was.
Without sunglasses, her face was familiar. Not someone he saw often, but unforgettable—enough to stick after one glance.
She was staff from the elite school nearby. Exact position unknown, but old male teachers groveled to her, so high up for sure. Probably her age too.
Yet here she was, in heat for a young guy like him—probably a student—rushing to his arms, smile uncontained.
Stunned, the part-timer stood frozen, then locked up early despite his shift and headed to the nearby bathroom.
"You stupid bitch."
I clenched my fist again. Yujeong clutched her stomach in fear. Yujin never backed down no matter how many hits she took—instead charging harder—but her mother was the opposite, crumbling instantly.
Hitting her wasn't the goal anyway; breaking her was. I unclenched, but having raised my hand, I couldn't just drop it. Playfully, like bullying someone much younger, I pinched the cheek of Yujeong, who was way older than me.
Thinking I'd slap her, she'd squeezed her eyes shut. Now she peeked open. Grinning, I caressed both her cheeks.
"Jeez, you stupid bitch. Can't even do that simple thing right the first time? Buy the stuff, grab the receipt. Easy. Even a chimp could do it if I told it to."
"Sorry..."
"Sorry?"
"No, I'm sorry..."
Easier than expected. The drug messing with her body and mind? Yeah, that helped a lot. But mentality mattered more. Turns out, the mother was weaker than the daughter. That usual high-and-mighty, dictatorial act? Probably hiding a fragile core. Hmm, too soon to say. And no slacking—outwardly obedient now, but who knows.
He's a sex-crazed horndog, so I'll let him fuck me senseless till he's satisfied. Lull him into sleep, steal his phone, delete Yujin's videos. Then plan how to deal with him.
That seemed to be her play. Not bad for a plan cooked up post-drug blackout and cold-water wake-up. But it wouldn't work on me. The premise was wrong from the start—I wasn't some sex-mad horndog.
I took the receipt she handed over. Proof she'd used her own card to buy sex supplies, now in my hands. What we'd do next? Mutual consent.
Of course, if she claimed coercion, this evidence meant squat. But I could counter with proof she wasn't coerced—bought it willingly.
That's why I was marching her to an unmanned motel right now.