The Taste of a Mother's Hands
"... Ugh. Disgusting."
One kiss, and she twisted her face into a full grimace of revulsion. Then she thrust her hand out straight, as if she had already done her part. The message was clear: she had done as ordered, so hand over the biscuit already.
I brushed my fingertips lightly over the spot her lips had touched and smiled in satisfaction. For a mouth that spat nothing but venom day after day, the feel of it had been surprisingly soft and thrilling.
"Haha. Getting a kiss from our Gyeowool really gets the blood pumping."
"... Whatever. Just give me the biscuit. You promised."
"Of course, of course. Naturally. Open up—say 'aah.'"
"... Fuck. Just give it to me. This is pissing me off."
"Huh? Is that how you're going to be? I'm sharing my precious food here. You can't even do that much for me? I'm starting to feel a little hurt."
"......"
Under my not-quite-threat she finally parted her lips a fraction. Beyond them sat neat white teeth and a cute little tongue that twitched. The longer I stared, the faster her cheeks flushed scarlet.
"... Damn it! Why are you staring like that! This is seriously annoying!"
"Hey now. Can't a master even look inside his own puppy's mouth?"
"... Haa. What a spectacle. Look or don't—do whatever you want."
She snapped her gaze away as if even answering had become too much trouble. Good. This was how it worked—bit by bit she would grow used to it. Like clothes soaking through in a fine rain, there would come a moment when things far worse than this felt perfectly natural.
"Haha. See? When you listen to Master, you're so pretty."
"......"
"Alright. Time for a tasty snack."
At last I slipped the long-awaited biscuit between her lips. The discontent melted from her face in an instant. Her eyes went hazy with bliss; her full cheeks never stopped working. Then our eyes met, and just as quickly she wiped the expression clean.
"Aw, why? If it tastes good, just enjoy it. What's with the straight face?"
"Munch munch. Listen, Teacher Kang. Don't act so familiar. Munch munch. Just because we talked a little. Huh? Think that makes you something special? Munch munch."
"Ugh. That pride of yours. Here—drink this."
Her mouth must have been dry; she took the coconut drink I offered and drained it in one clean shot without even being told to finish it. Then she simply handed the empty shell back.
"Hmm. Finally feel like I'm alive again."
Once the meal was done she pulled an expensive handkerchief from her pouch and dabbed her lips with dainty little pats. It was far too late for coquettish airs, but somehow the gesture still felt pure Han Gyeowool. She looked at me now with a face full of life—faint color blooming on her cheeks, a haughty sparkle in her eyes. Most of all, her expressions had grown richer. Still, the woman who went into the bathroom and the woman who came out were never the same. Arrogant leisure had already settled back into her gaze.
"Hmm. Our Gyeowool. What's with that look? Feels a little impure, doesn't it? Done with the show now that you've gotten what you wanted?"
She answered with a snort.
"Hmph. What do you take me for. I'll keep the promise, so stop nagging. But I won't do it for free. Guarantee me at least basic meals—that's the price for playing along with your perverted little games."
"Oh? Unexpected. I thought pride would make you refuse outright."
"Like it or not, I need you. Your treatment can be decided once we're back in Korea. First we have to get out of here alive, don't we?"
Ah. The great Han Gyeowool herself was compromising. What a dramatic, moving achievement. I nodded again and again, a proud smile on my face.
"Fine. I'll take care of the meals. But keep the promise properly. This is precious food I'm sharing."
"Ha. Stop showing off. Who said I'd eat and run? How many times do I have to say it?"
"Hehe. Then how about a massage first?"
The oil-massage ticket I had won from her in the game. I stretched out on the sunbed and held the bottle out to her. Han Gyeowool took it with open disgust and let out a deep sigh.
"Haa. It's scorching hot—what's with an oil massage?"
"Hey. Gyeowool's getting scolded? Bad words are forbidden."
"See you in Korea. I'll make sure you live as a freeloader for the rest of your life."
"Yes, yes. Do as you like. For now, start kneading Master's shoulders."
I rolled my stiff shoulders; she reluctantly clicked open the oil. A concentrated rose scent bloomed as the sticky love oil poured out. True to its "adult" label, the texture was thoroughly lewd.
"?"
She must have realized this was no ordinary oil; her face twisted at once. She glared at me as if to demand why I had handed her something like this. The look was so fierce my shoulders twitched on their own.
"Ahem. This is the only oil we have, so what can I do? Don't look at me like that. Come on—massage already."
"... Just wait. You'll regret every bit of this shit today."
"Aw, what's there to regret? Getting a massage from Gyeowool herself—even dying would be a happy death."
I brushed off her killing intent with a shameless grin; she snorted and squeezed out a long ribbon of oil with irritable force. Those long, porcelain-white fingers truly deserved the phrase "delicate jade hands." Her nails were painted a haughty black. The contrast somehow looked sexy.
"Whoa. Gyeowool really does have pretty hands."
"Don't say creepy things."
"Even when I compliment you..."
"Shut your mouth and stay still. Don't make this more annoying by moving."
She spread the oil across both palms and planted her hands firmly on my shoulders. Warm, sticky fingers glided over my neck and collarbones in smooth strokes. Even knowing this was not reality, the sensation felt impossibly real. To think I would ever receive an oil massage from the Han Gyeowool herself. A foolish laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
"Hehehe. This is amazing. Lower. Mmm— a little lower."
At my blatant request her hands froze. Lower meant chest and abs. Even if it was called a massage, that kind of touch between a man and a woman could never be meaningless. Moreover she was already a married woman with a child. Caressing another man's stomach and chest was something that simply could not be allowed. Perhaps that was why her hands stayed locked on the line of my shoulders and refused to travel downward.
"... Teacher Kang. Just be satisfied with the shoulders, okay? Why make a kid's mom do this? Ask a girlfriend for that kind of thing."
She watched my face carefully, trying to negotiate. Of course it did not work.
"I don't have a girlfriend. And so what if you're a mom? You're this lovely."
I reached out and gave her plump, meaty ass a light squeeze. Her eyes flew wide; she slapped my hand away without mercy.
—Slap!
"... What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"What's the big deal? We'll be touching each other's chests soon enough. You didn't forget, right? You lost to me in the last game."
She had bet chest-touching rights and been crushed. The memory must have returned; she chewed her lip hard.
"... Don't worry. I haven't forgotten."
"Whew. Good. Anyway, I'm far more interested in the mother side than some girlfriend. The woman who ignored me every single day—getting a massage from her. Of course I have to try this and that, right?"
"... Crazy bastard. Were you thinking that shit the whole time? Creepy as hell."
"Curse all you want. It won't make my interest disappear. Anyway, I never said let's fuck. I'm keeping some lines, aren't I? So let's both compromise a little. Keep this up and I might get really offended."
"......"
"Answer?"
"... Fine. I get it, so shut that mouth already. Why does a man chatter so much."
She knew her position; she let out a sigh as if steeling herself for something, then lowered her hesitant hands and began carefully stroking my chest.
—Saaah, chaaah.
"Ahh. That's it. Feels so good."
"... Won't you shut up?"
"Ahh—how can I when it feels this good. Yeah. Right there. Ugh. Gyeowool's hand skill is killer."
"... Ha. Fuck."
—Saaah, saaah, chaaap.
She spat vicious curses even as her soft hands caressed my skin. Following the grain of the muscle, she spread the sticky oil over every inch of me. I deliberately moaned louder to heap more shame on her, breathing hard and twitching at even her lightest touch. In truth her hands really were electric. The careless, almost indifferent way she touched me only made the stimulation sharper.
"Haa. Killer. Our Gyeowool—why are you so good at turning me on? Hmm? Master's getting hard."
Just as I said, my cock had already begun to swell with healthy vigor, twitching and growing under the shorts until its bulk was unmistakable. Whatever else I lacked, I had confidence in that department. She must have felt the presence below; color rose in her face. At that point I reached out again, wrapping my hand around her slim waist and stroking up and down. Soft fabric, the unique curve of a woman's body—an intoxicating hand-feel. She twisted her hips in protest, but the resistance was nowhere near as fierce as before.
"Hehe. Gyeowool, you were born for this. Pure sex appeal. Oof."
With her resistance weakening, my hands grew bolder. I kneaded her soft upper arms the way one might work dough. She grumbled that it was disgusting, yet having entrusted her survival to me she could no longer refuse.
"Gyeowool. Now let's work the thighs. Make Master feel amazing."
I guided her arm and planted her hand deliberately on the inner thigh. By now my cock had swollen so large it stood out clearly even through the fabric. The obscene sight made Han Gyeowool flinch. I gave her ass a few encouraging pats.
"What are you doing? Not massaging. Master's so stiff it's killing me."
"... Hnngh."
Soon her fingers began groping deeper along the thigh, brushing sensitive skin and skirting the center with dangerous closeness. Each near-miss sent waves of ecstasy through me; my hips jerked. Truly, it was a hand-flavor no fortune could ever buy.