A Face That's Not a Mother's (2)
So I slapped Yujeong's tits and pinched her clit, but she lay there spread-eagled like a dead frog, arms that had been pulling my neck limp, legs that had been locked around my waist now splayed out, showing no reaction at all.
She'd gone so quiet I thought she might've actually died, so I shook her massive breasts to check her breathing. Nope, she was fine—just dead asleep, breathing deeply.
I smacked her on the head and stood up. But the moment I did, dizziness hit me hard, forcing me to plop back down on the bed.
"...This is enough for now."
I pulled my hand away from her tits, where I'd been unconsciously kneading them. I was exhausted to the point of collapse, but I couldn't just pass out like Yujeong. I still had work to do.
I arranged her legs like an upside-down frog, then lined up the condoms full of my cum along the insides of her thighs. Then I fished her discarded phone out of the trash.
The screen was shattered, but it still turned on. It had a pattern lock, but true to form for a middle-aged woman, it was simple enough that I cracked it after a few tries.
Lucky me. This skipped all the hassle and let me dig straight into evidence of her corruption.
I used her camera to snap full-body shots of her in that vulgar pose, pussy wide open, her innocent childlike face peacefully asleep.
I emailed them to my phone and deleted the records.
Then I leaned in close, held the phone high to get both our faces in frame, and took another. I even did a V-sign peace gesture like a selfie, grinning wide as I planted a kiss on her cheek for one more.
I opened her messaging app to send them to Yujin. But searching for Yujin turned up nothing. No recent messages with her either. Mother and daughter? Hardly—they seemed cut off for ages.
Then I spotted one saved under the cringey name [My Beloved Daughter♥]. The date was old, so she'd probably kept it on purpose without deleting.
I sent the pics through the chat and memorized Yujin's number while I was at it.
She was probably asleep, but come morning, seeing these would hit her like a truck.
I powered off Yujeong's phone and pocketed it in my inner jacket. First time tonight I wasn't fucking—for once, I headed to the bathroom to wash up.
The night was deep, but Yujin couldn't sleep. Skincare routines, the upcoming idol dance test, tomorrow's simple quiz—they all flitted through her mind, but the second she closed her eyes, that man's face appeared, making sleep impossible.
Unable to contain her rage, she punched and kneed her innocent pillow over and over. Then she decided screw this—instead of waiting for him to attack, she'd strike first. She booted up her computer.
Yujin figured that rather than being toyed with helplessly until that rapist bastard rotted in jail, she'd toy with him—teach herself techniques to torment his arrogant cock from porn videos.
Of course, she didn't fully trust he'd keep his promise. But no better options came to mind, and unlike him, this one meant betting her shining, glamorous future—so it was as good as useless. For now, this was her best shot.
She thought porn was filthy, and Mom had drilled into her never to watch that crap, so at her age she'd never touched it. But she knew enough to search.
Unfamiliar with computers, but in a world overflowing with smut, finding porn wasn't hard.
But what she found wasn't the instructional "technique tutorial" she'd hoped for—it was pure trash, leaving her frozen.
A massive, muscled, tattoo-covered black pornstar grabbed a tiny middle-aged Asian woman—dwarfed by his bulk—hoisted her up in his iron arms, and rammed his monster into her pussy.
Her voice leaked from the headphones connected to the monitor speakers.
The vulgar, over-the-top screams made Yujin's face scrunch up in disgust.
She ditched any thought of learning blowjob techniques and closed the video. She lay back in bed. Still couldn't sleep. If anything, it reminded her of today's events, chasing sleep further away.
Her body heated up. Not from the porn—from his cock, triggered by the porn.
I knew black guys have big dicks... but why's that bastard's even bigger?
That cock casting a long shadow over her face. The one that nearly suffocated her to death. The one that slapped her face. Fucking bastard...
So why can't I breathe?
Confused by the weird feelings, Yujin suddenly realized her fingers were pressing her panties. She kicked off the covers and bolted up.
Tears streamed from the crushing humiliation, the shame of getting turned on imagining his cock, the guilt of betraying everything Mom had taught her.
On impulse, she called Mom—the woman she'd cut off after ditching that fake-family "dad."
Mom didn't pick up right away. Yujin figured she was ignoring her again, wiping tears with her hand, sniffling—then Mom answered.
But something was off. Even after picking up, no words—just rustling sounds, like someone else was there.
"......Mom?"
They both desperately wanted each other, but their words clashed. Yujin hurt deeper at Mom's usual indifference. Then,
"I told you before—call me Mother, not Mom! And at school, Chairwoman! Remember that! Now hang up—"
Mid-lecture, a man's voice cut in, silencing Mom.
Then her horrific scream. It cut out suddenly, hard to make out clearly, but definitely a scream.
Yujin frantically called for her.
Is she kidnapped? What's happening? Call the cops? No, hang up and call them now! Thoughts exploded one after another—then Mom's voice turned eerily calm, scolding her.
"It's late! Good girl Yujin needs to sleep! Now, ko-ko, sleep tight. Ko—ko—ko—"
She hung up.
Something connecting Yujin to Mom snapped inside her.
"Mom... you're with a guy right now... aren't you...?"
She'd rejected countless guys, pining for Minjun forever, so even inexperienced Yujin knew.
Mom was fucking some strange man right now. That man mattered more than her. And soon, like when her parents separated, both would abandon her again. She knew it.
Yujin washed her tear-streaked face in the bathroom, turned on the shower to hide her sobs.
The school's idol. The perfect idol. Envied by all, object of jealousy. Flawless.
That was her. Even she never let herself see her crying face—Yujeong never caught it either.
After a long shower, she finally calmed, toweled off, and stepped out naked. She immediately checked her phone, not expecting much.
A text! From Mom!
Probably an apology. Or inviting her for their promised Sunday outing. Full of hope, she opened it.
But there...
The bastard who shouldn't exist in this world.
And Mom—not Mom's face, but a bitch in heat—side by side, in the same frame.
Yujin froze in panic, but quickly pulled herself together. Her idol vow—to be perfect anytime, anywhere—kept her from despair.
Mom wouldn't. My mom wouldn't.
Make that face. Fuck a man like that.
"Rape... Mom got raped too, just like me, you fucking bastard! By you! You bastard... I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"
Raging, she rampaged like the bastard was there now, with Mom—bolted to the kitchen for a kitchen knife.
Her phone chimed again. Not from [My Loving Mom♥]. Unknown number.
But she knew who. Terrified of what was coming, sensing it'd drive her mad, she couldn't stop herself from opening it.
All strength drained from Yujin's body. The kitchen knife clenched in her hand clattered to the floor, stabbing the tip of her pinky toe.
Blood poured from the wound, but Yujin just stared blankly at the moon outside, listening over and over to the voice from the phone—not her mother's voice, but a stranger's.