She Ran Away — And Came Back Changed
Time wore on, and the new year of our twentieth year arrived with graduation just around the corner. By then my wife's body had already become the one she has now. Her breasts had swollen to a full D-cup, large enough to strain the buttons of her shirts apart, and her height—neither tall nor short at five-four—only made them more striking. Add to that a face as sweet and darling as any idol singer's, and she had more than enough to become the object of every man's longing.
Yeonju's household was slowly finding its feet again as well. Her father had begun to work once more, pushing past the grief of losing both his business and his wife. But construction work meant frequent trips out of town, so Yeonju split her days between our house and her own.
Then came one particular night.
Yeonju, who had often slept in my room before, climbed in through the window instead of using the front door. In her hands she carried a bottle of soju and a bag of snacks.
She thought of me as a brother, and she came to me for advice about the boys she liked. She poured out everything—the ones she had a crush on, the ones who had a crush on her—and asked me what she ought to do. The guys who'd made a show of liking her were almost all pretty-faced punks, good for nothing but hanging out. The problem was that Yeonju liked hanging out too, and she had a weakness for those flashy, hollow types.
I counseled her in earnest, the way a real older brother would, and I lectured her besides—told her to stay away from those thugs. The truth was Yeonju had never been close with her studies either. She just giggled at my nagging, flashing that bright smile of hers, and whether she was actually listening or not I couldn't tell. A few shots of soju later she was swaying from side to side, grinning like an idiot.
When I laid her down on the bed, she suddenly pulled me into her arms and dragged me down with her.
That was what she said to me. And then she was asleep.
That night she held me tighter than usual as she drifted off. The full, heavy press of her breasts against my chest came through without any filter, and the blood began to drain downward. Telling myself I shouldn't didn't help at all. Her thigh twitched against me—sleep-talking, maybe—and rubbed along my cock until I was rock-hard, swollen to my limit.
I could glimpse her breasts through her T-shirt. They swelled up like balloons, sexier than any pair I had ever seen. I felt the urge to grab them the way they did in porn, to squeeze until they burst—but I squeezed my eyes shut and held out. Back then, I just didn't have the courage to go through with it.
That night, like every other, we fell asleep locked in each other's arms, feeling the warmth of each other's bodies.
Not long after that, Yeonju's father—who almost never drank—got roaring drunk and flew into a rage, and Yeonju ran away from home. I figured she'd be back in a day. When three days passed with no sign of her, worry set in, and I went around asking everyone I could. I asked the friends she usually hung out with, but they seemed to shy away from me, insisting they didn't know a thing about her.
She did come back before the new semester started, thankfully—but the Yeonju who returned from running away was a different girl. The long, glossy hair had been chopped into a short cut. She went around in skirts so short they barely qualified as skirts, and I even caught her smoking with a rough crowd now and then. And yet she was still the same bright, smiling kid.
I grilled her when she came back, demanded to know where she'd been, chewed her out—but all she said was that she'd been out having fun. Still, nothing between us had changed, and I was just grateful she'd come back to me in one piece.
Yeonju still treated me like a sibling, and she still came to my room to sleep now and then.
One night I came home late and found her already asleep in my bed. She was wearing nothing but a bra and a tank top up top, and a pair of tiny hot pants below. The tank top had ridden up to her chest. One side of the hot pants had slipped down, baring her hip.
That was when I saw something black on her left hip. At first I thought a bug had landed on her and reached to brush it off—but up close, it was a black wing. A black wing peeking out from between the hot pants. A butterfly wing, no question.
That's right. From the lower part of her hip down toward the place between her legs, a large black butterfly had been inked into her skin.
I was honestly stunned.
A tattoo like the ones you only ever saw on Western porn actresses or the dirty girls circulating online had been carved into Yeonju's body. I had no idea what she'd been doing while she was gone, but a bad feeling settled in my gut. And the stories I'd heard from that punk about Yeonju kept circling through my head, over and over.
With her new look, the rich punks who looked clean on the outside but spent their days fucking their way through girls started circling her. Nothing between us had changed, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Yeonju was drifting farther and farther from me. Still, as long as I could see her smiling brightly, healthy and well, right in front of me—I told myself I was fine.
It was the day after the graduation ceremony.
Freshly twenty and about to scatter in every direction, we decided to throw one last blowout of a graduation party. Not just the guys—we were bringing the girls too. The ones who had girlfriends would bring them; the ones who didn't would play pairing games on the spot and find themselves a partner.
It was a gathering of close friends, so Yeonju came too. With her boyfriend, of course.
Yeonju's boyfriend was a guy named Yoo Minyong, and on the surface he seemed decent enough. Tall, reasonably good-looking—but among the guys, we all knew what he really was. He'd lived in the States until middle school, and he loved bragging about summers spent with his friends at the nude beaches in Bali. He'd fucked plenty of girls at school, too. I personally knew of at least five.
When Yeonju asked me about Minyong, I told her everything I knew and made my opinion clear. She accepted his confession anyway. And not long after, Minyong was going around bragging to the guys about how he'd fucked her.
There was nothing I could say. I could warn her, but in the end the choice was hers.
The party was Minyong's treat, actually. His parents were in Japan for work, and when he offered to foot the bill, we didn't need to be asked twice. Plenty of girls showed up, of course. Nobody was going to turn down a party at a rich kid's house.
The funny part was that every other girl Minyong had fucked showed up too. And funnier still—every one of them was now dating one of Minyong's close friends. Those guys were basically his lackeys, and they wore his leftovers like trophies, each of them claiming one of the girls he'd already used and discarded.
And so our graduation party began.
More than twenty of us gathered, the girls outnumbering the guys. Fresh out of school, we hauled in crates of soju and beer and started drinking through the games.
We started with a pairing game to match up the singles. Most people found a partner, and I ended up coupled with a girl from my class. We hadn't been particularly close, but whether it was the alcohol or the atmosphere, we started touching each other as naturally as if we'd already been dating. Yeonju clapped for me when she saw I'd been paired off. The sight of her glued to Minyong's side left a bitter taste, but watching her laugh so brightly, so happily, I forced myself to smile back.
Every couple had been paired off, though a shortage of guys meant some of the girls had to pair with each other. Even then, one girl was left over—and she volunteered herself as Minyong's second. I thought it was absurd, but when Minyong asked Yeonju if she was okay with it, Yeonju just smiled brightly and nodded, and the girl walked over and sat down beside him like she belonged there.
The girl was Oh Suyeon, a notorious slut that every one of us already knew about. She was tall—about five-seven—and slender, with breasts as big as Yeonju's. If Yeonju had that sweet, adorable look, Suyeon had a provocative, in-your-face sexiness.
Slut or not, Suyeon was pretty. Sitting there with an arm around each of their waists—Yeonju on one side, Suyeon on the other—Minyong looked like the star of his own party.
Then came the king's game—the real heart of any party like this.
With so many people, three or four of us would get hit with a penalty at once. The penalties started out varied: drink, swap partners and kiss, do a sexy dance, pick your partner up and do squats. But as the night wore on and the alcohol kicked in, the penalties got heavier.
Deep-kissing, giving head, jerking someone off, sucking on tits—the penalties kept climbing, and they even added doggy-style. Not actual sex, of course—just the act of it. But there was a hard rule: the guy had to put his cock inside the girl's panties.
The penalty changed, and we played a multiplication-table game. Four people got caught—two guys, two girls. The penalties: doggy-style and a deep kiss.
"Hurry up! Hurry up! Hurry up!"
The ones who'd been caught hesitated, and everyone else started heckling them. The only way out of a penalty was to drink the punishment cup—a whole mixing-bowl of soju-and-beer, with cigarette ash and spit stirred in. Nothing a human being could actually drink.
One of the hesitant couples started the deep kiss. They really went for it—tongues stretching long, sliding in and out of each other's mouths for everyone to see—and we cheered and whooped. That got the doggy-style pair moving. They started stripping. The girl had come with her actual boyfriend and hesitated, but the atmosphere won out. She hiked her skirt up to her waist, rolled it, and pinned it in place.
"Ooooh~~~~~"
The guy pulled out his hard cock in front of all his friends, and the girls gasped. The girl dropped to the floor in the doggy position, ass up, and the guy moved behind her, pulled her panties aside, and shoved his cock in. The sight of it bulging through the fabric of her panties was incredibly erotic.
"Doggy! Doggy! Doggy!"
We chanted again. And the guy's hips started pumping.
"Nngh~~~~"
A moan slipped from the girl's mouth. Her boyfriend looked like he'd swallowed something foul, but the rest of us roared. Even if he wasn't actually inside her, we were at that age where just a cock rubbing against a pussy through fabric was more than enough to set someone off.
Thwap, thwap—thwap—thwap thwap—
His pumping sped up, and the wet slapping of flesh filled the living room. We'd started out cheering, but somewhere along the way we went quiet, watching a live porno unfold in front of us. About ten minutes in, the guy actually came, dumping his load, and it was over.
The games kept going after that, and more people kept getting hit with penalties. A few of the girls flashed their tits and let the guys suck on them. The guys pulled their cocks out and got blown. A few of them even came from handjobs right there in front of everyone.
And then, for the first time, Minyong got caught.
His penalty was getting a blowjob, and Suyeon volunteered, stepping into the center with him.
"Hey, that's not how it works! You've got two partners—you take two penalties."
"Yeah! Take two!"
The guys shouted at Minyong to draw a second penalty.
"Fine, fine—I'll do it, you assholes."
He drew another penalty. This time it was a deep kiss. He gestured for Yeonju, and she stepped into the center too.
I tensed. I'd watched every dirty scene so far without getting hard even once. But the moment Yeonju stepped up as a penalty player—before anything had even started—the blood rushed to my cock and a sharp ache bloomed low in my gut.
Was Yeonju going to suck Minyong's cock...? Or was she going to share a deep, filthy kiss with him...?
My mind went white all over again.