Is It Really Because I Blackmailed You? No, It's Not.

As soon as Ayoung settled into the passenger seat, I closed the door and started the engine. The car pulled away, and she sat there with her hands clasped in her lap, head bowed. A flush spread across her cheeks.

She'd even called her son to say she'd be late, then come here of her own accord. Up until now, Ayoung had only given herself to me because of my threats. But the woman in the passenger seat right now had climbed in without any blackmail—purely by choice. She'd told her son she was running late and said she wanted to come with me.

This was the moment our relationship changed. From coercion to consent. From victim to accomplice. No matter what excuses she made from here on out, no matter what face she put on, she could never take back this choice today.

I steered out of the city toward the hotel—the same one we'd been to before. This time, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠drove right up to the front entrance instead of the underground parking. A valet approached, so I tossed him the keys and got out. Ayoung stayed frozen in the passenger seat.

Lights from the lobby poured out through the window, bright and inviting. People came and went at the main entrance. I circled around and opened her door.

"Get out."

"...Here?"

"Yeah."

Ayoung glanced around nervously. Two men in suits passed by the revolving door. Her shoulders hunched.

"Wh-what if someone sees?"

"So what if they do? We're not having an affair or anything."

"Still... I'm just some ajumma."

I chuckled. "Have some confidence, ajumma."

Her cheeks burned even redder. Her lips parted, but no words came. I didn't wait—I grabbed her wrist and pulled her out.

The dress I'd picked for her looked surprisingly elegant under the lobby lights. Anyone watching would think we were a couple out on a date with an older girlfriend. Ayoung's steps lagged a bit, but she didn't shake off my hand.

We crossed the lobby to the elevators. The doors opened, and we stepped inside. Ayoung bowed her head deeply. She didn't say a word the whole ride up. In the reflection of the closed doors, her expression was hazy—tension, shame, and beneath it all, anticipation for tonight.

I didn't turn on any extra lights in the room. I wanted her to see exactly what this choice looked like. Ayoung hesitated at the doorway, not coming in. I went ahead and stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. The city nightscape flowed into the room, stretching long shadows across the floor.

"Come here."

At my call, she moved to the window. "Pretty amazing, right?"

No answer. Ayoung stared blankly out at the glittering lights, reflections dancing in her eyes. The night views she usually saw were probably just dim hallway corridors or faint glows sneaking through dingy curtains from the apartment across the way.

I stepped up behind her, arms sliding around her waist. Her back stiffened with a twitch, but she didn't push me away. Her body trembled faintly. I leaned to her ear and whispered, "Tonight, forget everything else. Just think about me."

"...But."

"All that matters right now is the time between you and me, ajumma."

The tension drained from her shoulders. Her back leaned lightly against my chest. I turned her slowly to face me. She looked up, the city lights casting a glow across one cheek. Her lips quivered. Her gaze flicked between my eyes and mouth, then she closed her eyes tentatively.

The first time I'd tried to kiss her, she'd twisted away desperately. Even with her legs spread, she'd guarded her heart—that was her last line of defense. Now, she was erasing it with her own hands.

I smiled in victory, tilting her chin up gently and pressing my lips to hers. At first, it was just a light touch. Her lips were stiff. Small and soft. I nipped her lower lip lightly. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Her breath hitched at my nose. Seizing the moment, I slipped my tongue in slowly.

Her teeth clenched briefly—a flicker of resistance. But as my tongue pressed between them, they parted without force. Hot, wet warmth enveloped me. Tslurp. Her tongue began to move, clumsy and unsure where to go. She tentatively explored mine with hers, accepting it.

"Mmph..."

A muffled moan escaped through her nose. Her hands rose to rest on my chest. Without breaking the kiss, I gripped her waist and pushed her back against the glass. Her back hit the cold surface, shoulders hunching as a shiver rippled through her mouth. Still, her lips didn't pull away.

I thrust my tongue deeper, wrapping around hers and sucking. Saliva pooled, a strand trickling down her chin. I felt her throat bob as she swallowed. Taking my saliva down.

When I pulled back, a thin silver thread stretched and snapped. Ayoung dropped her gaze, panting hard. Her shoulders heaved. Her mouth hung half-open, ragged breaths spilling out. My eyes drifted down—her breasts rose and fell under the dress, nipples sharply outlined against the fabric. Lower still, the cloth between her thighs clung wetly to her skin. Excited from just a kiss—how fired up was she?

I slid the dress straps off her shoulders one by one. The fabric cascaded down, baring her breasts. She started to cover them with her arms, then stopped. Giving up, her hands fell limply to her sides. I pushed the rest past her hips, letting it pool on the floor.

Her underwear was white again. But not the worn cotton from last time—this was thin, smooth fabric. She'd picked out something clean and nice herself. Despite her words, she'd clearly hoped I'd call her tonight.

Feeling my gaze, she turned her head away. Red flushed all the way to her ears. I unhooked her bra and slid her panties down. Under the city lights, her exposed body gleamed—pale skin glowing softly, breasts catching the urban shimmer.

While I stripped off my shirt and pants, Ayoung leaned against the glass, looking up at me. I grabbed one breast in my hand, soft flesh spilling between my fingers.

"Ah!"

"What am I gonna do with you getting this excited for your son's friend?"

"You... you made me like this."

Her tone held a hint of reproach, but her eyes said otherwise. No fear, no disgust, no wariness—just eager expectation for what I'd give her.

My hand trailed down, stroking up between her thighs. Even before my fingers touched, the heat radiated. I slid along her slit, slick fluids slipping between them. I held up my glistening fingers in front of her face. Transparent strands shimmered in the night lights. Her eyes locked on them, then darted away.

I brought them to her lips. "Clean them."

"D-don't..."

She turned her head to dodge. I gripped her chin, forcing it back, and pressed my fingers to her lips. They parted with a tremble. As they entered, her tongue moved reluctantly, slowly. The tip wrapped around my knuckles, wiping away her own juices.

"Good girl."

I pulled them out, and she bowed her head. Her lips twitched like she wanted to say something but swallowed it. Her ears reddened at the single praise.

I stepped back. "Suck me."

"...Okay."

No refusal, no hesitation. Ayoung sank slowly to her knees. Both hands wrapped around my cock, lips brushing the tip. Tslurp. She took it in and started bobbing her head, slow back and forth. Through the swaying hair, I saw her lips working. The rhythm was still clumsy, but she'd learned to tuck her lips over her teeth—no scraping now. Each time her tongue swept up the underside, the suction shifted. Slurp, pop. She'd improved. Nothing like the first time in the tub when her teeth grazed me.

I stroked her hair with one hand, savoring it leisurely. She pulled off, gasping. Saliva dangled from her chin and broke. Looking up through heavy breaths, her eyes reflected me.

"Put the condom on."

"...Okay."

She rose unsteadily on wobbly knees, fetched a condom from the nightstand, and tore it open. As she moved to roll it on with her hands, I stopped her.

"Not with your hands—with your mouth."

Her face scrunched up. "Ugh... do I have to?"

"Hurry."

"Haa..."

She sighed but knelt again, holding the condom in her mouth. She aligned it with the tip and pushed down with her lips. Rubber unrolled down the shaft as her mouth descended, her tongue pressing from inside—a dull sensation through the latex. When it reached the base, she pulled off, sticking out her tongue and grimacing.

"Eww..."

Hated the rubber taste, apparently. I grabbed her arm, pulled her up, and shoved her against the glass. Her breasts squished against the cold surface. Her back arched, breath bursting out.

"Ah... on the bed..."

I ignored her. Hands on her ass, I spread her cheeks and pressed my tip to her entrance. The moment it touched, wet heat seeped through the condom. I thrust my hips. Squelch. Buried deep ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in one go.

Her breasts mashed flat against the glass as her whole body jolted forward. Flesh prints spread on the window. She braced with both hands, arms quivering.

"Haaah!"

Her pussy clenched tight around my buried cock. Hot, dense walls sucked me in. I pulled back and slammed in again. Squelch.

"Ngh!"

Each thrust pushed fluids out, trickling down her inner thighs. Looking down, transparent slick coated my shaft, stretching in sticky strings that snapped and dripped to the floor as I withdrew. Squelch, squelch, squelch.

I found a rhythm, and her moans shifted. What she'd bitten back started leaking out. Her fingers slipped on the glass, leaving smeared handprints.

"Ha-ut... ah... haa..."

I yanked one arm back and drove in hard. Thrust.

"Haaaah!"

Her head snapped back. Hitting her deepest spot made her pussy spasm wildly.

"No son here, no one to see us. Don't hold back."

My words made her jolt. Her walls clamped harder. Then the sounds she'd swallowed burst free.

"Haa... more... hngh..."

The old Ayoung muffled everything—hand over mouth, teeth gritted, throat crushed silent for fear of her son hearing through the walls. But tonight, she could forget him and let herself out.

Squelch-squelch-squelch.

"Haa... ah... haaah!"

Each pound sent her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ass rippling back into me. At the deepest penetration, her walls clung, molding perfectly to my shape—no gaps, squeezing and releasing relentlessly. I angled up, grinding her upper wall. The instant my tip rubbed it, her back arched sharply, a scream erupting.

"Haaaaah!"

Her pussy milked me like a vise. Thighs quaked violently as fluids gushed down. Her hands slipped; her upper body buckled forward.

"St-stop... no more... can't..."

I didn't stop. Thrusting deep, I said, "Look outside."

Her head trembled up. The city sprawled beyond—cars crawling far below, windows in the opposite building.

"Ah... ah... s-someone... might see..."

No room lights on, but the night glow reflected back in. Her silhouette—breasts pressed to glass, getting railed from behind—might be visible. Her face paled.

I whispered in her ear, smirking. "So what? Who'd know it's us?"

"Em... embarrassing..."

"Don't hide it. This is your real self, ajumma."

"N-no... it's not."

"Why not? You lied to your son to come get fucked by his friend."

"...Ah... no..."

Her voice cracked. But her pussy only gripped tighter. I pinned her arm back and hammered her walls. Squelch-squelch-squelch.

"Ah! W-wait... stop..."

"Is it really because I blackmailed you? No, it's not."

"Ah... ahh..."

No coherent reply. I buried deep and ground my hips. Pressing her deepest point made her head whip back, body shuddering. Fluids streamed down her thighs to her ankles.

"Ah... okay... you're right. I... I..."

"Say it."

"I wanted... to... with you."

"Wanted what?"

"...Ngh..."

"Hurry." Squelch.

"Aaaah!"

Another deep thrust, and she screamed, body convulsing. She gasped it out like a confession.

"Wanted... to fuck!"

"Good girl."

I gripped her waist with both hands and pounded upward hard. Squelch-squelch-squelch-squelch.

"Ah... so good... hngh... haaah!"

Pleasure-soaked moans filled the dark. Climax built deep in my gut. Her pussy clenched madly, milking me. Sucking me in on withdrawal, gripping on thrust—the cycle dragged me to the edge.

I slammed deepest and tensed. Spurt, spurt.

"Hnnngh! Haaah!"

Ayoung's body went rigid. Fingers whitened on the glass, then went slack. Through the condom, her pussy rippled in waves as I came. From her mouth came not a moan or scream, but a full-body exhale.

"Haa... haa..."

Her knees buckled inward; she slid slowly down the glass. I held her belly steady with one hand, cock still inside, waiting out the aftershocks. I withdrew slowly—her pussy clung to the last, reluctant. The condom caught at her entrance, peeling off my shaft. I tugged it free; semen dribbled from the rim onto her thigh.

Ayoung slumped against the glass on the floor. Eyes unfocused. Mouth agape. Breasts heaving as she caught her breath.

I brought my cum-smeared cock to her face. She looked up. Her dazed eyes fixed on it. A trembling hand rose, grasping the shaft. Lips parted, taking the tip. Pop, slurp. Her tongue trailed slowly up, cleaning every trace of semen meticulously.

The heat of her mouth reignited my groin post-climax. She pulled off. Only saliva gleamed on my now-clean cock.

I leaned down to meet her eyes. "How should I fuck you next? Want more?"

Her gaze drifted sideways. City lights danced on her wet cheek. Lips moved silently. Then, her head nodded—small, slow.

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