[Side Story] Lee Jiyoung (3)
Even two weeks later, Ji-sung still hadn't laid a hand on my body. My desire, already set ablaze, was beyond all control now. I even threw myself at my husband, trying to suck his cock, but that shriveled thing of his stayed limp and lifeless, and in the end he shoved me aside with a look of pure annoyance. I lay beside him moaning and touching myself, even took his hand and pressed it between my legs, but he soon shook me off as if I were nothing but a bother.
The next day, I put on a white blouse over a black bra. The lace showed through the fabric, plain as day. Below, I wore black pantyhose and a black miniskirt. I pinned my hair up to bare the nape of my neck and applied heavy makeup. It was the sexiest I could possibly make myself. At school, I suffered under the stares of students and male teachers all day long. But the gazes of men who could never satisfy me were nothing more than an irritation. I finished the day brimming with frustration, then headed to Ji-sung's house with my heart fluttering. Fortunately, his parents were out that day. They trusted me completely — their son's homeroom teacher.
Yet Ji-sung, the one who mattered most, showed no reaction at all. When I first walked in, he merely looked me up and down and let a faint smile touch his lips. That smile gnawed at me through the entire lesson. Was it mockery? Was he laughing at a horny old cat in heat, thrashing around because she wanted to be fucked? I felt utterly wretched. I had already given him everything — body and soul. I couldn't endure a single day without Ji-sung. I didn't care if he never touched me again; I just prayed he would give me even a warm expression. I prayed I hadn't lost his interest.
I undid the buttons of my blouse one by one. My proud, firm breasts, wrapped in black lace, came into view. Ji-sung glanced at them, let out a soft sigh, and turned his eyes back to his book. In despair, I stroked his thigh. No reaction. As I tried to slip my hand between his legs, his hand caught my wrist.
"That's enough, Teacher."
"Why are you doing this to me? You loved it so much before. I... I dressed up like this just for you."
Tears were threatening to spill. I knew that if I asked this question, I would surely break down — but I had to ask anyway.
"Are you tired of me now?"
Just as I expected, the tears came pouring out. There I was, dressed up like a whore in front of my beloved student, begging him to touch me, rejected — and now kneeling on the floor, sobbing without a shred of shame left.
"I don't understand what's wrong. What... what am I supposed to do to you..."
Ji-sung watched me cry for a long while, and only when my sobs had quieted a little did he speak.
"You and I are just sex partners, Teacher. There's a huge age gap between us, and you already have a husband and children. It's not like we're going to get married, right?"
"Sex partners?"
I was embarrassed to admit I didn't know the word.
"Sex partner. That's what we are, isn't it?"
"Then just hold me. Why do you keep turning away from me?"
"I'm bored."
The words I least wanted to hear came tumbling out of his mouth. The tears rose again. I asked through my sobs.
"Is it because I'm old?"
"No, your body is incredible, Teacher. It doesn't feel old at all. I mean that."
"Then why?"
"No matter how beautiful a woman is, if it's the same sex every single day with no new stimulation, of course she gets bored."
Ji-sung said it with a laugh, as if the answer were obvious.
"Is it because of that thing before?"
Suddenly it came back to me. Once, when we'd had sex in his car, Ji-sung had wanted to film me with his smartphone. He said it was so he could look at me on the days I couldn't come. But I had refused outright. It had seemed far too perverted to begin with, and besides, our relationship was an affair — something that could never, ever be tolerated. Filming me was simply out of the question.
"That's part of it. But really, doesn't anything only feel stimulating when it's moving forward — when there's progress?"
To think that all this time — weeks of torment — it had been over something so trivial. Something so simple. All he had to do was say so. I stood up, pulled my blouse free of my skirt, and undid every button.
"Film me as much as you want."
Ji-sung raised his smartphone and photographed my whole body. I looked in the mirror and dabbed away my ruined makeup with a tissue, then slowly stripped off the rest of my clothes in front of him. I removed the blouse and bra, then the skirt, and just as I was reaching for the pantyhose, Ji-sung spoke.
"Come here."
I went and stood before him, still in nothing but the stockings. As Ji-sung, seated in his chair, pulled down his pants and underwear, his cock was revealed, bobbing up toward the ceiling. The thing I had ached to see for days was already hard, aroused by the sight of my body. Overjoyed, I dropped to my knees and pressed my face against it, breathing in its scent. Ji-sung, thoroughly excited, was filming every moment. I gripped that thick rod, heavy with a man's smell, in one hand and licked it with my tongue.
"Does it feel good?"
"It feels amazing, Teacher."
Because Ji-sung was happy, I was happy too. I could already feel myself growing damp down below. It felt as if all those weeks of anguish were being rewarded at last. My young master... there was nothing I wouldn't do for this boy.
I opened my mouth and took him in. Never in my life had a man's cock felt so dear to me. It was nothing like my husband's limp thing. That hard shaft, veins bulging along its length, was so long that even when I swallowed it to the back of my throat, my hand could still wrap around what remained, and clear, sticky fluid kept leaking from the tip, quenching my thirst. With one hand I licked and sucked my student's sacred symbol while my other hand kneaded my filthy cunt through the stockings. My juices flowed until they coated my fingers. My mind swam as if I were drunk. My master was filming me from above, looking down at this vulgar old bitch fingering her own pussy. I came by my own hand, his cock still in my mouth, my whole body shuddering.
Service brought its reward. Drunk on pleasure, Ji-sung laid my limp upper body onto the bed. My stockinged legs sprawled across the floor. I felt him tear the seat of the stockings open. My panties were pushed aside, and that cock I had longed for so desperately slid into my dirty pussy.
"Ahhhhhh!!"
I buried my face in the mattress, clutching the bedsheet, and came yet again. My whole body was trembling. Ji-sung's hips began pumping hard, back and forth. Orgasms crashed over me one after another until I couldn't think straight. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked it.
"Aaahh!! Yes... yes... honey... keep going... harder... ahhn...!!"
As his rough strength hauled my upper body up off the bed, words with no connection to reason kept spilling from my mouth. I was using formal speech with my own student, calling him honey. Ji-sung whispered into my ear.
"You like it, you dirty bitch? You love this that much?"
"Yes, I love it!! Fuck me more... ahhn... into my dirty pussy... your cock... honey... aaahh..."
Teacher and student meant nothing to me anymore. My husband, my children — all of it had flown from my mind. Only this pleasure mattered, this pleasure I had never once felt in more than forty years of living as a woman. Only Ji-sung could give it to me. No one had ever made me feel this kind of joy.
At the end of that endless cascade of orgasms, Ji-sung seized my hair and thrust his cock in front of my face. Gripping the glistening shaft in one hand, his face contorted in agony as he stroked it — I stared blankly at that twisted expression, mouth open, fingering my soaked pussy. When hot white liquid erupted from the tip and covered my face, another surge of heat rose from below and wrapped around my entire body. Dirty fluid ran down my fingers as I rubbed my clit like a madwoman, dripping onto the floor. When the orgasms had finally subsided, I was slumped in the puddle of my own juices, semen streaming down my face and dripping onto my breasts. When I pressed my lips to his cock — still hard, still bobbing — I opened my mouth and licked him clean.
And so I won back Ji-sung's attention. But our relationship had changed completely. He no longer used formal speech with me; he simply called me by my name. When we had sex, I called him honey or Master. I had become utterly dependent on him, and the hierarchy between us had flipped. To Ji-sung, I was probably nothing more than a sex partner — but I truly loved him. It didn't matter if he never penetrated me again, never caressed me again. Even if he gave me nothing at all, I could give him anything and everything. All I wanted was his attention. Only that.