Hold Still and Let Me Come on Your Face
"Don't hold back. Come on my face."
I always insisted on using hotels when I met someone.
I hated the peculiar pressure and impatience that came with a motel room, the awkwardness of checking in while facing a stranger at a cramped front counter, and the indecency of laying someone down on sheets that had already been dampened and dulled by countless people passing through for only a brief, hurried hour. It felt wrong.
There was trauma behind that stubbornness, too. It had happened when I had just graduated from college and was barely starting my working life. I had gone to a motel with a girlfriend who had only just entered university, and the situation had turned embarrassing fast.
Because she looked especially young, the woman at the counter had openly suspected she was underage and shot us a sharp, suspicious look. We only got into the room after showing our IDs, but by then the mood had already gone cold.
After that day, when I had sweated through the effort of calming a girlfriend who was so frightened she had tears trembling in her eyes, I swore I would never expose myself to such a vulgar situation again.
Besides, when the person I was with was as much younger than me as she was today, a motel was not even in the same league. The moment you walked in, the number of people entering was obvious, which meant the companion you had brought would be exposed at once. A hotel was different. You could check in remotely through a mobile app, then take the elevator from the underground parking lot straight up to the room. There was no need to pass the front desk, endure strict quarantine verification procedures, or put yourself in front of anyone else’s gaze.
If there was anywhere perfect for shutting out other people’s eyes and preserving secrecy, it was a hotel. I had paid nearly two hundred thousand won on short notice for a provincial hotel, but eliminating all those unpleasant variables completely was the minimum line of defense I had chosen as a polished adult.
During that short ride up from the underground parking lot, just the presence of that cute, youthful girl standing beside me had already swollen my lower body to the point of bursting. With every step, the taut fabric of my pants snagged and pulled so hard my walk had become awkward.
Even when I stood in front of the room and held the card key to the lock, my thoughts were tangled. This girl, who had so boldly propositioned an older man she had first met in an anonymous chat. This mysterious creature whose name I still hadn’t even asked. My heart thudded at the anticipation of her.
Behind that innocent, clean face, was she hiding the filthy nature of a woman who threw her body at anyone? Or was she just a foolish little lamb who had stepped forward out of curiosity?
Whenever I was about to take a woman, the stage I enjoyed most was imagining the truth hidden beneath the shell. What kind of obscene expression would this meek-looking body make when aroused? How sensitively would she react to stimulation? Where were the sensitive places no one else knew about? More than anything, I felt as if my brain would melt from imagining how warm and tight she would feel inside.
She had promised only to use her mouth, but the anticipation of how she would collapse under my practiced hands, what kind of cries she would spill, how she would cling to me—those private thoughts heated my entire body.
The room was neat, with a fairly large bed and even a small sink and table. It was a sealed space, cut off from the outside world by the heavy click of the lock. We sat side by side on the edge of the bed and looked at each other.
The girl who had been bold only moments ago was now trembling so hard she looked like a leaf in the wind as soon as she entered the enclosed hotel room. That timid expression suited her face perfectly. Watching her like that stirred both a strange possessiveness and a protective instinct in me. In the silence, with the noise outside blocked by thick curtains, I slowly stroked her lowered head.
"Are you okay?"
My lips brushed her cheek as I asked in a low voice by her ear. Instead of answering, she simply closed her eyes. Her fluttering lashes spoke for her tension. The fresh scent of shampoo and the sweet smell of lotion that pricked at my nose began to numb my reason. Just as I lifted her chin and was about to kiss those small lips, she murmured in a whisper.
"I don't want to kiss..."
I paused at her quiet voice. No kissing, but oral was fine? Then what exactly was I supposed to do? A flicker of confusion passed through me, but instead of asking why, I rubbed my mouth against her cheek and moved slowly along the line of her ear.
"All right. I won't."
My breath made her shoulder jump. I extended my tongue and slowly traced the outer curve of her ear before slipping deeper, teasing the fine hairs inside. At once, her body curled in on itself. The response was honest.
I licked up the side of her neck more roughly, wrapping one large hand around her slender waist. When I caught hold of her chest through the thin T-shirt, the palm of my hand met firm, heavy springiness. Her breasts, still carrying the compact fullness unique to a twenty-year-old, pulsed as if they might burst in my grasp.
I slowly slid my hand beneath her clothes. Against the rough palm, I felt the smooth texture of her bra and the hot skin trapped beneath it. Climbing over her body, I yanked her shirt up to her neck.
The cleavage exposed so precariously between the cups of her bra. I leaned in until my face was almost touching it and buried my nose between the breasts. Instead of any artificial perfume, the smell that hit me was a baby-soft, skin-deep scent rising from the flesh itself. Her face turned red as if it might split, and she turned away, trying to swallow her moans.
I kneaded her breasts hard even through the bra, then quickly pushed the cups up. As if they had been waiting for it, the delicate peaks rose into view. I bit the tip gently with my lips and rolled it with the end of my tongue, and a muffled sound escaped between her parted lips. I devoured the sensation like a madman.
I took the whole breast into my mouth and sucked alternately until the wet, obscene sound of it filled the room. She gripped my hair and shivered all over in response.
After feasting on her for a long while, my hand slid lower until it reached the line of her panties. Even through the fabric, I could tell she was already wet and warm. Driven by an unbearable thirst, I tried to pull the panties down, but she caught my hand in panic.
"Wait a moment..."
She resisted stubbornly, insisting that she had to wash up first. I brushed her hand away and soothed her, telling her it was fine.
"No. I think I smell because I’m sweating."
But I didn’t want to break the flow here. Once we actually started, there was always the chance she would regret it and say she wanted to go back. I needed to push the heat straight through before it cooled. Ignoring her protest, I used my strength to yank her panties down at once. The inside of them was soaked, as if she had already blown her nose into the fabric.
She tried to close her legs and hide herself, but she couldn’t overpower me. I took hold of her knee and applied a little pressure, and her slender legs sprang open at once.
When I saw her fully exposed between the thighs, I held my breath for a moment. She had been neatly shaved, bare and pretty in shape. At first I wondered if she was the type who always kept herself groomed, but when I looked closely, I could see she had probably shaved it herself and left it slightly rough. That only made it cuter, and more arousing. The image of her standing in front of the mirror in her studio apartment, clumsily and carefully grooming herself for me today, sent an uncontrollable wave of excitement through me.
I buried my face deep between her legs. At first she struggled, startled, trying to push my head away, but once I began teasing the wet slit with the tip of my tongue, she quickly seemed to give up resisting, hiding her face in the pillow and stifling her sounds with little choking noises.
Without noticing the passage of time, I kept working her over with relentless precision. I started with the tender skin inside her thighs, then licked every corner of the soaked opening, took the petals into my mouth and sucked gently before returning to the clit and licking it with meticulous care.
Several times I went back up to torment her nipples before returning below again. By the time more than ten minutes had passed, her breathing was already approaching its limit, and the legs that had once been held rigid were now spread helplessly apart.
The moans she had tried so hard to swallow were now loud enough to fill the room, and the mixture of my saliva and her slick wetness was smearing all over my face and even onto her ass.
Just as she was on the edge, I pushed my tongue deeper, tracing the entrance, and she gripped my hair hard and arched her body like a bow. I kept the stimulation going, very slowly and very thickly, inside the opening and over the clit at the same time. Then she suddenly started panicking again, saying she had to go to the bathroom.
"I really have to go! I think it’s coming out!"
That feeling, like she was about to pee herself. I was certain she was right on the threshold of orgasm. Pretending not to hear her, I shoved my tongue in deeper and gave it one last sprint.
"You can come on my face, so stay still."
The instant I finished speaking, the thighs that had been writhing to shove my face away began to tremble violently.
"Ah— no..."
She bit down on the blanket to crush her moan, and after a long, shuddering stretch, she came apart in full force.
I slowly rose and pulled her into a tight hug, her body slick with sweat. Every time my hands touched her, she still quivered and gasped for breath. Without letting her see it, her eyes still half shut and her nipples standing hard, I slowly lowered my pants.
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