The Ultimate Chest Technique
“Th-then…”
“Then what! Spit it out already!”
“Mom… h-how about doing it with your chest…?”
“……What?”
In that instant the air inside the cramped room froze solid. Hyo-jung stared at me with her eyes round as saucers, as if she couldn’t trust her own ears.
“What did you just say? Chest? Do what with my chest? You crazy bastard, what kind of nonsense are you spouting! How the hell is that even supposed to work down there?!”
“N-no! There’s a real way it works! I-it’s called pai… paizuri, and it doesn’t even hurt your arms, the stimulation’s insane, it’s the ultimate secret technique that’ll blast right through this blocked meridian!”
“Pai-what? Paizu…? What the hell kind of bullshit is that!”
There was no way I could explain it with words alone. My smartphone had already died a glorious death in battle, so only one option remained.
Still completely naked, I scrambled up from the bed in an awkward crouch and frantically powered on the old laptop sitting on the desk. The seal on my private secret folder—lovingly preserved since before I left for the military, grandly titled [New Folder (3)/Actually Empty Folder/Reference Materials for Assignments]—was finally broken after one year and six months.
“G-give me the mouse! Seeing is believing!”
I spun the mouse wheel like a madman until I finally found the distilled essence video where “that technique” was demonstrated to absolute perfection, then slammed the play button.
“Look, look! You gather them like this from both sides and wrap the pillar…!”
“Kyaaaaah! You lunatic! Showing your mother something like this in broad daylight!”
Hyo-jung’s face flushed crimson from the nape of her neck all the way to the crown of her head at the wondrous yet mortifying spectacle unfolding on the screen. She clapped both hands over her eyes in a panic, but the overwhelming visual evidence had already burned itself deep into her brain.
Slap—!!!
“Uwaaagh!”
Unable to endure another second, Hyo-jung’s sharp palm smashed mercilessly across my bare back. The lingering sting of the broom from earlier hadn’t even faded before this crisp, explosive smash sent me screaming and collapsing face-first onto the bed.
“You animal! I sent you to the army to protect the country and you come back stuffed full of filthy knowledge like this?! And now you’re telling me to do that?!”
“It hurts! But Mom, you said your arms hurt! If you do it like that your arms won’t hurt, and the surface area of flesh against flesh is so huge you can finish me off in one go! This is really my last hurdle! If I don’t get past this I’m gonna die foreverrr!”
I clutched the bedsheets and wailed, tears and snot pouring down my face. My desperate thrashing, the continuous stream of embarrassing sounds still pouring from the laptop, and the savage silhouette of “Sergeant Park Si-woo Junior” still standing tall and unbroken toward the ceiling.
“Haa… haa…”
Hyo-jung sucked in ragged breaths, her fists trembling with fury. Yet as her eyes flicked back and forth between the technique on the screen and my lower half, the razor-sharp rage from a moment ago gradually gave way to helpless resignation.
Her arms were already at their limit, and her twelve-year veteran housewife’s sixth sense instinctively understood that if this nightmare was going to be cleaned up, she would have to step in herself.
“…Aigoo, what a life.”
Hyo-jung let out the heaviest sigh in the world, like Joan of Arc climbing the scaffold. Then, with a completely defeated, hollow expression, she muttered:
“Fine… I’ll do it. I’ll do it for you, you crazy bastard.”
“M-Mom…!”
“But you finish for real, fast. If you don’t finish inside one minute I’m flipping this whole place over.”
Hyo-jung bit down hard on her lip and slowly brought her hand to the first button of her thin homewear shirt. Her cheeks were flushed to bursting, her eyes half-resigned. And as those white, voluptuous curves began to reveal themselves little by little, the blue-pill-overloaded circuits of my brain finally melted into complete sludge.
Pop. Pop-pop.
The sound of the buttons on Hyo-jung’s thin homewear shirt coming undone struck my eardrums as loud and clear as fireworks exploding in the silent room.
Through the gaping shirt, the pale, abundant curves of my stepmother—something I had never once imagined in twelve years—spilled into view. She wasn’t even wearing a bra, so their complete form was on full display; that overwhelming mass nearly stopped my breath.
“Y-you… shut both eyes tight and look at the ceiling only! If you look at me I’ll really kill you!”
Flushed scarlet from neck to scalp, Hyo-jung squeezed her eyes shut and gathered her breasts with both trembling hands. Then, abandoning her vision entirely, she carefully leaned her body toward my raging pillar exactly as she had seen in the laptop video.
Squish—.
“Ughk…!”
The soft, heavy mass of flesh—utterly different from any hand—wrapped my Black Flame Dragon without a single gap. A spine-ripping jolt of pleasure tore a silent scream from my gaping mouth.
But… something was strange.
W-wait…? Why is it gripping so tight…? No, there’s not even a millimeter of space?!
I had expected her first attempt to be clumsy and stiff. That prediction was completely shattered. Eyes still squeezed shut, driven by the single-minded determination to “just finish this fast,” Hyo-jung began pumping her upper body with fierce intensity. Her technique was nothing short of miraculous.
Twelve years of making kimchi and kneading dough had forged a veteran housewife’s unique pectoral control, and the ripe flexibility of a woman in her mid-thirties created a miraculous synergy!
Every time she moved her torso up and down, those two massive fruits squeezed my pillar with chewy pressure, delivering a fantastically snug sensation that felt like it was sucking out my very soul.
“M-Mom…! H-holy shit! Why are you so good at this?! That speed just now was amaz—uwaaah!”
“Shut up! Be quiet! I’m putting every last bit of strength into finishing you off in one shot!”
Even as tears of shame pricked at her eyes from the “praise,” a strange competitive fire seemed to ignite; Hyo-jung squeezed her gathered breasts even harder and cranked the tempo of her piston motion to insane levels.
Slap, slap!
The loud, sticky friction of flesh against flesh, combined with the visual assault, made it impossible for my eyes not to lock onto the two heavy fruits spilling from the gap of her shirt.
Pale skin lightly flushed and damp with sweat, that overwhelming volume endlessly undulating as it wrapped my pillar without a single gap. Softness and elasticity on a completely different level from her hands set every peripheral nerve in my body on fire.
“Wow… Mom… your chest is seriously so soft… I’m going crazy…”
My true feelings slipped out unfiltered in a raw voice. Instantly Hyo-jung’s shoulders jerked mid-pump and her flushed face twisted into something terrifying.
“Where are you looking?! I told you to shut both eyes tight!!”
“Ow!”
Her sharp fingers viciously pinched and twisted the tender flesh of my inner thigh right next to the Black Flame Dragon. Sudden spicy pain lanced through the extreme pleasure; I twisted my body and protested the injustice.
“No! That incredible thing is bouncing right in front of my eyes—how am I supposed to not look! Am I some blind old man?! This is the same unstoppable law of nature as a compass needle pointing north!”
“This mouth of yours is the only thing alive…! Law of nature my ass!”
Hyo-jung wore an expression of pure, speechless exasperation. She looked ready to slap my cheek that very second, yet the heavy, throbbing presence of my lower half—still pulsing with righteous grievance—stopped her from following through. She only heaved a sigh deep enough to sink the floor.
“Haa… what kind of high treason did I commit in my past life, selling out the country three times over, that I’m stuck doing this shit with my fully grown son in the middle of the day…”
She glared at me with eyes full of resentment, as if staring at a loathsome beast. Both cheeks burned scarlet with shame; rough breaths hissed between her tightly bitten lips.
But her angry grumbling didn’t last long. The wetter and sharper the friction sounds filling the room became, the more ragged Hyo-jung’s own breathing grew.
“Haa… hurry… hurry up and finish… my arms are seriously about to fall off…”
“Khhhk… Mom… I-I’m going…! For real this time, I’m really… cumminggg!!”
The visual excitement of surrendering to the compass’s law of nature, combined with my stepmother’s miraculous chest-compression technique, created a fantasy collaboration. My limit shattered past critical in an instant.
Fwoosh—! Fwoooosh—!!!
A bestial roar tore from my throat at the same moment one year and six months of condensed energy erupted once more like a volcano.
The third eruption. This time the hot, sticky white heat did not arc through the air; instead it poured mercilessly into the deep, dizzying valley of Hyo-jung’s breasts that still tightly enveloped my pillar. Thick white trails cascaded like a waterfall down her pale breasts, painting a strangely decadent masterpiece.
“Hwaaaa…”
I collapsed onto the bed with a face that looked as if my soul had been completely sucked out. The ceiling spun in circles; every pore on my body opened and my ragged breaths came in choking gasps.
“Haa… haa… so gross, seriously…”
Hyo-jung also sat up, panting hard. She looked down at the mess her son had left soaking the center of her chest and shook her head in pure disgust.