Sexual Processing for a Passing Busty Coed
Even after I came, the lesson continued. The atmosphere in the classroom, however, had transformed completely.
The college girls serviced my cock with gazes far more desperate and feverish than before.
Someone recited this world’s common sense—that a man who had ejaculated once needed to rest—but I refused.
My vigorous cock was still capable of coming any number of times.
Before long the lunch bell rang, yet we had not even finished half the practical training.
“What do we do… it’s lunchtime…”
A girl who still had not gotten her turn at fellatio practice spoke with open regret, and the rest of the women began to stir restlessly.
They looked ready to skip a meal entirely rather than let this golden opportunity slip away.
It made perfect sense. For them, the chance to see a living man’s cock with their own eyes, to touch it, even to take it into their mouths, was a first in their entire lives.
Even the girls who had already finished their practice refused to leave, wanting just a little longer to stare at it.
Basking in their heated stares, I spoke.
“It’s fine. We can eat a little late. Keep going.”
At my permission nearly everyone burst into cheers.
Our secret practical lesson was still underway when female students from other classes, passing down the corridor, happened to glance through our doorway and freeze at the sight.
One man sat exposed on the platform, cock out, while a throng of college girls waited their turn to suck him—an utterly shocking tableau.
The rumor exploded outward. Within minutes the windows of our classroom were packed solid with girls from other classes. Seniors and even a few teachers dotted the crowd.
They watched the scene inside with bated breath, eyes thick with envy and jealousy.
Feeling every one of those stares glued to the glass, I stroked the hair of the girl currently working my cock—her name already forgotten.
Embarrassment at being so publicly displayed mixed with a surging confidence that filled my entire body.
Only after every last girl had finished her practice, long past the end of lunch period, did we finally manage to reach the cafeteria.
Naturally Chaerin and Subin flanked me on either side, while Yeji claimed the seat directly across.
Around us settled Lee Yuna—the gyaru who had performed especially exquisite glans fellatio earlier—and Lee Nari, first place in the blowjob rankings.
While the other students ate ordinary cafeteria fare, I sliced into the special meal of grilled eel and steak.
My gaze happened to fall on the pink sausage Subin was eating. Even with expensive steak on my plate I suddenly, inexplicably, wanted a bite of that pink sausage.
“Sihyuk, open up—ahh.”
Catching where my eyes had gone, Subin speared the sausage with her fork and held it to my lips.
Pure goodwill shone on her face.
“Thanks. Just one bite, then.”
“Don’t you want some pork cutlet too?”
The moment I accepted the pink sausage, Chaerin thrust a piece of her own pork cutlet toward me from the opposite side.
Subin’s brow twitched at Chaerin’s competitive move. I took the twin food assaults from both flanks and laughed quietly under my breath.
That was when it happened. A wave of noise rolled through the previously quiet cafeteria from the far end.
Following the direction of every woman’s stare, I saw a group of men heading straight for our table.
Three of them.
Since the day I enrolled at this academy I had never once seen two or more men together. Their expressions, moreover, looked strangely stiff.
Had I drawn too much attention with my stunts and invited a confrontation?
From their point of view, maybe volunteering as the practice model today had made me look like a complete slut.
I narrowed my eyes just enough not to appear weak.
The ordinary-looking man in front stopped before me.
“You’re Kim Sihyuk, first year, right?”
“What about it?”
I answered as casually as I could. Looking closer, though, I sensed no hostility in his eyes.
Instead something like respect glowed there, which only confused me more.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Lee Junseo, second year. This is Kang Taemin and Park Jihun.”
After introducing himself and his companions, Lee Junseo extended his right hand. Still dazed, I shook it.
So my prediction that they had come to start something was wrong?
“I heard the story from my third wife today. During the morning oral-service technique practice you volunteered yourself as the model for every girl in the class.”
“Ah… it wasn’t that big a deal.”
“Not a big deal? That’s an incredible spirit of sacrifice.”
Kang Taemin beside him grinned and chimed in.
“Exactly. Ordinary men like us couldn’t even imagine doing it.”
The third man cut in as well.
“Willingly offering your body for the women… I was moved by that noble sense of mission.”
Sense of mission? Spirit of sacrifice? The words they chose meant nothing to me.
I had simply indulged my pleasure, freely enjoying the beauties right in front of me.
Oblivious to my thoughts, Lee Junseo sighed and continued.
“As you know, we men have a duty to uphold this country. Impregnating women and maintaining the population is our most important mission.”
He paused, glanced around, then lowered his voice.
“But honestly speaking… sex isn’t all that enjoyable, is it?”
I was left speechless. I had heard that men in this world disliked sex, yet hearing it from their own mouths still felt absurd.
“Sometimes when semen builds up or the urge hits we get sexual processing, but that’s purely an excretory act for health, nothing more.”
“Yet you endured that boring, exhausting process all day long just so the academy girls could improve their skills. You’re a real man.”
The men of this world lived forcing themselves through sex they never wanted.
To them sex was not pleasure but responsibility and duty.
It was not only the women who had been brainwashed into believing they must form huge families and bear many children. The men, too, had been indoctrinated in their own fashion.
That a man, whether he wanted it or not, must produce children for the sake of humanity and the nation.
“Let’s stay in touch. Here’s my contact.”
Lee Junseo clapped my shoulder twice and walked off with his companions. I stared blankly after them.
Their existence, so utterly unlike my own, left me with a strange, unsettled feeling.
Until afternoon classes began I remained in the room giving the girls detailed feedback on their glans fellatio technique.
Having just received the respect of other men somehow made me even more relaxed and generous with my critiques.
“Ease the tip of your tongue a little more. The teasing sensation is still lacking.”
“Yes. That look right there. Like you’re about to devour the man whole.”
My precise, filthy feedback produced the surreal spectacle of girls sticking their tongues out into empty air, diligently practicing.
I smiled with pure satisfaction at the ridiculous yet lewd scene.
The rest of the lunch period they stayed behind, obsessively drilling tongue exercises. The classroom filled with cherry-stem practice tools and tongue-training gadgets.
When afternoon classes finally started the girls all left for their major lectures.
I decided to take a solitary stroll across the academy campus.
Lee Junseo had mentioned a lounge where men could play billiards or games together, but the idea held no appeal.
Listening to more talk of noble missions in a room full of those guys sounded exhausting.
That sexless world of men who kept their distance from women felt far too alien and unappealing to me.
I was walking across the well-kept lawns when a man and woman approaching from ahead caught my eye.
The man had an unremarkable face and wore a neat suit. The woman beside him, however…
“Whoa.”
She was startlingly beautiful.
She wore a classical outfit that looked like a modified hanbok cut for underboob display, hair black as ink cascading down her back, brown eyes, and an expression that seemed lively and bright.
She walked quietly at the man’s side, fanning him with a hand fan. It was not even hot, so I briefly wondered why, then decided it must be some kind of fashion service.
Just then another female student approached from the opposite direction. The man glanced over her without much thought, then casually snatched the Bitch Student ID hanging around her neck.
“Oh, you went with a breast photo? Are they actually this big in person?”
Far from offended, the girl answered with a face full of joy and expectation.
“Y-yes! I’m confident! They’re G-cups!”
“That so? Then can you give me some sexual processing right now? Paizuri.”
“Yes! Of course! It would be an honor!”
She nodded with the ecstatic expression of someone who had just won the lottery.
The woman walking beside the man watched the entire exchange without the slightest change in expression, simply continuing her elegant fanning.
Looking satisfied, the man nodded and led both women toward a nearby male sexual-processing room.
As they walked he openly groped both girls’ breasts; I forgot to keep walking myself.
I stared blankly after them. Everything felt too surreal.
A man who could check a passing girl’s cup size and immediately demand sexual processing. A woman who regarded the request as the highest honor. Another woman who seemed utterly free of jealousy.
The unreal scene dragged the word “transmigration” back into my mind,
and with it the contents of that scrap of paper I had been trying so hard to ignore rose once more to the surface.