Chapter 67
Han Yaseong quickly slipped behind Choi Yujin and positioned himself right in front of her ass. It was utterly unexpected. He hadn't dreamed she'd offer it up like this. She'd refused the bath, so he'd assumed that was the end of it for today—but now it felt like a bolt of unexpected luck had struck.
Han Yaseong gripped his raging cock in one hand and slid it under her ass. The soap suds everywhere made it tricky to find her pussy. So Choi Yujin reached back, grabbed his dick, and guided it straight to her entrance. His glans slipped right in with a slick pop.
"Ahh..."
Both Han Yaseong and Choi Yujin let out moans in unison. He savored the warm, tight embrace of her vaginal walls clenching around him; she relished the thick shaft parting her folds as it pushed inside. From there, it was pure instinct. Han Yaseong seized her ass cheeks with both hands and thrust away enthusiastically, his hips pistoning wildly. His cock plunged in and out of her pussy with wet, squelching sounds.
Choi Yujin braced her hands against the wall, arching her back to push her ass out further as moans spilled from her lips. Fucking in the shower felt entirely different—especially this standing doggy style, which was a first and ramped up the excitement. Han Yaseong kept pounding her hard. Her ass slapped against his lower abdomen with rhythmic smack-smack sounds, rippling like waves. The soapy slickness made it rub so deliciously. Choi Yujin loved it too, wiggling her hips even more provocatively. She'd meant to reward him, but it felt like she was the one getting the prize.
In that rear-entry position, Han Yaseong hammered away countless times before he finally couldn't hold back and came. Choi Yujin felt his hot semen flooding deep inside her pussy, and right there on her feet, she pissed herself. She'd been holding it in already, and the creampie pushed her over the edge. As the warm stream pattered onto the shower floor, she climaxed hard—but even in her ecstasy, she quickly turned on the showerhead to hide it.
The lukewarm spray cascaded over Choi Yujin and Han Yaseong in an instant, drenching them from head to toe. But it was too late—her hot piss had already trickled backward down his thighs. Han Yaseong, lost in the bliss of his internal ejaculation, didn't notice until later. As they rinsed off, the memory of that warm trickle down his leg suddenly hit him.
"Senior, did you just pee?"
"No."
Choi Yujin played it off. She swiftly changed the subject.
"Hurry up and rinse. We gotta go."
"Okay."
Han Yaseong tilted his head in confusion but kept showering. There was no doubt—a hot stream had run from her ass down his thigh. It was a mystery.
They finished up and prepared to head back to Seoul. They packed their bags, got dressed, stripped the bed of its heavily stained sheets, and tossed them into the hallway trash bin. Then, as if nothing had happened, they checked out casually and left the waterpark.
Choi Yujin flagged down a passing taxi right outside the main gate.
"Where to?"
"The parking lot. My car's there."
She must've driven here instead of taking the train to the island. Han Yaseong rode with Senior Choi Yujin to the parking lot near the pier. After about thirty minutes in the taxi, the pier came into view, with the lot right nearby. They got out and walked to the entrance. Choi Yujin handed something to the attendant for verification, then led Han Yaseong inside.
They walked along the sparsely parked paths until she stopped in front of a car covered by a tarp.
"Pull that off."
"This one?"
"Yeah."
Han Yaseong removed the dusty cover. A sleek red sports car emerged—probably the Lamborghini or whatever luxury foreign import Senior Choi Yujin was rumored to own. Word had it these things cost billions of won. No wonder her family seemed loaded. Han Yaseong could never afford one, even if he worked his whole life. Hell, no salaried worker could in a hundred years. They were that expensive.
Choi Yujin pulled a remote from her bag and pressed it; the car beeped in response.
"Leave the cover—they rented it out here."
"Got it."
Han Yaseong set it aside and returned. Meanwhile, she'd unlocked the door and slid into the driver's seat. He carefully opened the passenger door and settled in. True to its supercar status, the interior was lavish—kitted out with gadgets that made it feel like the cockpit of a small spaceship.
"Whoa, this is insane."
"Right? My prized possession number one."
Choi Yujin grinned and fired up the engine with practiced ease. She fiddled with something up front, queuing up some music. Han Yaseong rarely rode in sedans, let alone foreign luxury cars, so he had no clue what anything was. He just watched her in fascination, taking it all in.
Soft classical music flowed from the speakers. As Choi Yujin pulled out of the lot, she said,
"I always play quiet classical when I drive. Keeps me from speeding."
"You speed?"
"Yeah, it happens without thinking. But classical chills me out, so I blast it whenever I'm behind the wheel."
With a smooth vooom, her red Lamborghini glided out of the parking lot. Nearby folks all stared at the car carrying Choi Yujin and Han Yaseong. Some gawked in awe, others scowled, and one even hawked a loogie onto the ground. Envy, jealousy, resentment—it was all plain on their faces.
Han Yaseong found it pathetic. The haves were just haves, but flaunting those emotions made them look small. Unlike others, he didn't envy or resent it much. It was just an expensive car, after all. Though, being Senior Choi Yujin's, it did make him a bit self-conscious. To claim her, he'd need to roll in something like this too.
"See their faces?"
Choi Yujin asked as they cruised down the two-lane road, eyes fixed ahead on the drive.
"Yeah."
"Don't you dare become one of them. It's the ugliest thing in the world. If you can't have it, don't even care. If you can, take it."
"Doesn't it bother you? Cruising around in this, everyone's always staring."
"I'm used to it. Honestly, that's nothing. Sometimes when I park outside, drunk assholes piss on it or sneak scratches. Can't trash it 'cause it's pricey, but yeah. Can't be helped—it's the curse of the upper crust. In tough economic times like these, riding around in something like this draws finger-pointing and curses from the masses. But to elites, it's just normal. Driving luxury cars, living in high-end apartments or mansions, buying designer shit, jetting off abroad—it's everyday life. The ones who can't do it just bitch and envy. Even though they'd live the same if they made it up here."
Resentment laced Choi Yujin's voice. It was understandable. Folks had glared openly as they pulled out. Emerging from a rundown pier lot in this island backwater with a multi-billion-won beast? Of course it pissed them off. Everyone scraping by day-to-day, while someone flaunts a priceless ride—it stung extra hard. Especially a young woman in her early twenties, ferrying a guy along.
The haves and have-nots just hated each other like that. Han Yaseong couldn't care less. Haves or have-nots, it had nothing to do with him. Someone dropping billions on luxury? Another starving penniless? Just someone else's problem. He didn't rage or grieve over it. The world was full of starving masses and big spenders alike. No need to fret over how others lived.
One thing bugged him, though: Choi Yujin's foul mood. It showed on her face as she drove. Maybe that grubby-looking guy spitting on the ground as they passed had done it. Han Yaseong had always been detached, but roaming that other world had sharpened his read on people. He could tell she was seething inside.
"Pull over and let's take a break."
"......"
Choi Yujin said nothing, just slowed and steered onto a quiet roadside. She let out a sigh.
"Ugh, you ruined my mood. That guy."
"The one who spat?"
"Yeah. Our eyes met, then he hawks a loogie. Pisses me off. And his gaze was filthy—full of nasty intent. Like, 'Fucking bitch, maybe I should just rape her.' I felt it in his eyes. Scared me for a second. If I ran into that creep alone somewhere deserted, he'd really do it. Or rape me then strangle me dead."
Choi Yujin took deep breaths to calm herself. Han Yaseong had seen the man's eyes too, so he nodded.
"Looked like a day laborer with some mental issues. Probably beats his wife and kids when he gets home."
That's what the eyes screamed: rage, hatred. Shabby clothes suggested grueling manual labor. His whole vibe reeked of a life crushed under hardship. To Han Yaseong, it was horrifying—something he might become one day. The young couldn't picture their older selves, how they'd end up. But in every country, over half scraped by in misery. You hoped not to join them, but who knew? Unless born into wealth—and even then, family ruin could drag you down. Half the world was bottom-tier anyway. Toiling endlessly for family till death. No hell worse than that. Pure living hell.