My Changing Wife 04
"Hngh~ hah~ haaah~~~ ahh...!"
The wet slap of flesh on flesh filled the room, and the longer the two of them kept at it, the more Yeonju's spread-open pussy poured out its juices. She was lying fully back toward the camera, and the lens caught every last detail — the thick black cock driving into her without pause, and the way her cunt gaped wide around it.
After a while, Yeonju — who had been slamming her hips down in time with the man's thrusts — began to lose her stamina. She planted her knees, hiked her ass up, and simply took it as he kept snapping his hips up into her. A little later the man, too, seemed spent from the violence of it, and both of them sank into a lull. Yeonju caught her breath, then sat up with his cock still buried inside her. She bent at the waist, gripped his legs, and lifted her face until her eyes found the camera.
This time she started rolling her hips on her own, and the sound of it grew wetter and more savage by the second. The mix of her juices and his precum leaked from where they were joined, turning thick and sticky, and every time their skin met it made a lewd, clinging noise.
"Ahhk~ uh! uh! nngh... uhk! uh! huuungh~"
She let her mouth fall wide open like a Western porn star, moaning in a raw, broken register that had nothing cute left in it. Back in Korea her sounds had been the sharp, girlish cries of a Japanese AV actress — but she had grown used to a cock this size, and even her voice had gone rough and Western.
She lifted her ass high and dropped it, and this, too, was different from before. She raised herself until his massive cock was nearly out of her, then slammed down in a single wet stroke — a perfect, practiced skill. Her big D-cup breasts heaved with the drop, sloshing like water balloons and smacking together every time her hips hit bottom. Even in sex violent enough to send her whole body rolling like a wave, she never once let her eyes leave mine.
She wanted me to watch her climb toward climax with that filthy look on her face, the same way I had wanted her to see me. And I told myself that just as I had driven into Huiyeon imagining she was Yeonju, Yeonju was giving everything she had to the Black man beneath her while imagining he was me.
In the eyes looking back at me through the camera, I could feel it — the promise we had made at twenty was still good.
"Hah~ hah~ hah……"
Yeonju, who had been slamming herself down so hard, stopped to catch her breath. The man who had been lying under her sat up and pulled his cock out of her with a slow, wet slide. The juices that had been trapped inside came flooding out of the open hole in a sudden rush.
Still on his knees, he wrapped her up in a tight back-hug, then stretched two fingers long and pushed them into the red, unclosed hole and started pumping them hard and fast. His thick fingers wrecked that small, pretty cunt without mercy, and when she finally hit her orgasm he clenched her pussy in his fist with his fingers still inside her, wringing her out like fruit.
"Haaaangh~~~ nngh~ ahh... hhkk...!"
A heavy spray of juice burst from my wife's urethra and soaked the hand that was gripping her. They stayed like that, riding out the aftershocks, and shared a brief kiss. Then Yeonju slid down, hooked one leg up onto the sofa, bent at the waist, and took his cock between her lips again.
She knew exactly where the camera was focused. She dropped onto her stomach so that her ass and the pussy behind it were laid completely bare. The smooth, hairless folds of her rear entrance gaped straight into the lens; below that, a soft little swell of belly, and those huge breasts — absurd against her small frame — hung down like water balloons pulled by gravity. In front of all of it: her jaw stretched wide, and that glossy black cock sliding past her lips and driving all the way into her throat.
My wife bobbed her head over that dark, club-like cock, forcing it down her throat again and again, and every time the head punched through, her neck swelled out in a bulge so obscene it made my head spin.
When the blowjob was finished, the man moved behind her. He hooked one leg onto the sofa the same way she had, and pushed that black cockhead into her open hole. He seated just the tip, found his stance, then drove in to the root in a single stroke and started pumping.
Leave it to a Black man, I thought. He kept the movements big and the force brutal, and still held a springy, athletic rhythm — like a basketball player hammering down dunks on the court. He worked her with all three tempos in turn: a rapid-fire pace, a heavy nail-driving force, and that elastic mid-speed bounce. Yeonju took every inch of that filling assault with her whole body, bracing herself so she wouldn't be shoved forward.
Both of them were already running white-hot. After about five minutes a milky broth began to drip from Yeonju's pussy, and once it started it stretched in long threads and smeared a pale stain across the black leather sofa, like a pancake left to fry.
"Hahk~ hahk~ hngh~ uh!... huuuaaangh~~~~~~~~~~"
She came with a raw, animal cry. Their mixed fluids, whipped into foam, kept pouring stubbornly out through the gaps around the cock that was still plugging her — but the man occupying her from behind didn't pull out. He simply collapsed over her back. And Yeonju didn't lower that hiked-up ass either, as if she wanted his semen to find her egg.
A moment later the screen went dark. I had been riding the edge myself watching my wife and that Black man go at it like a hardcore porno, so I left the player running. After a little while the picture brightened again, and Yeonju — my wife — reappeared.
She had cleaned up. She stepped back in front of the camera in the same kind of sexy lingerie slip as at the start, put together and glowing. It was an outfit close to the one from that old compensated-dating video, but she no longer looked like a cheap hooker. She looked like a polished actress.
She puckered her lips at the lens and blew a kiss, then flashed two finger-hearts. A bright, smiling crinkle touched her eyes. She waved, mouthed a goodbye, and shut the camera off.
In the end, every fear of mine had been for nothing. Yeonju — my wife — had not forgotten the promise we made at twenty. It had still been in force, even then. And I understood completely that I could not go on without her. The moment I got back to Korea, I would tell her.
A few days later, the day finally came. After years away, Yeonju was coming home.
It was also the night of the class reunion. I wanted to meet her at the airport so badly it hurt, but I forced the feeling down and held it there. Instead I tore through every department store in Seoul until I found the sharpest casual suit and shirt I could, got my hair done at my usual salon, and, last of all, bought a beautiful pearl ring — her birthstone.
Of course I wanted to run to her that second and pull her into my arms. But I wanted the reveal of how much I had changed to land with a little drama, so I hid behind the excuse that I was busy and didn't answer.
That night.
With everything ready, I set out for the reunion with my heart hammering. It was being held at a friend's modern bar — the kind of place that flipped into a club after midnight, complete with a stage they had built for it.
Would Yeonju even recognize me now, after I had changed this much?
I headed over with that tight, nervous feeling in my chest. I made a point of arriving a little late, so a lot of the old crowd was already there — but when I looked around, Yeonju hadn't shown up yet.
People had clumped up with whoever they'd been close to, drinking and talking too loud, and the room had mostly split into guys' tables and girls' tables.
"Yo, Taemin. You made it?"
The first person to greet me, of all people, was Minyong. There were girls all around him, of course — most of them ones he had already slept with.
"Hey. It's been a while."
Ji-eun was there too. The way she was glued to the seat beside him, it was obvious the two of them were still sex partners.
"Oh my? Is that you, Taemin? You've gotten so handsome. Want to come sit over here?"
Suyeon was there as well. The moment she saw me she shifted over and offered me the space beside her. I could feel it clearly — even the girls who wouldn't look at me twice in high school were looking at me completely differently now. But those looks sat wrong on my skin, so I moved to the table where the guys I had actually been close to were sitting.
I had to laugh. True to form, the guys I'd run with were packed around the smallest, darkest table in the farthest corner, and the sight of them huddled there was almost heartwarming.
"Dude, isn't that Suyeon and Ji-eun?"
"Yeah. They're still glued to Minyong."
The guys started talking about the girls at Minyong's table while they stared over there. The truth was, every one of these idiots had been at that graduation party and lost their virginity for the first time that night — but that had been the atmosphere doing the work. On a normal day, none of them could even hold a conversation with a girl.
"Taemin. You hit it with Ji-eun that night, right?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"How was she? She any good? She's still cute as hell even now. Honestly I was kind of going for her back then, and then she ended up partnered with you and I was dying of jealousy on the inside."
"That right? Then go talk to her now. Who knows, man?"
"Fuck that. Look at her, stuck to that Minyong bastard. What am I supposed to do? Why do girls even like that guy so much?"
"Because he's rich, you dumbass."
Someone else answered for me.
"Still, among the girls, Yeonju was the best, right? She was fucking popular. Even she ended up getting done by Minyong, though."
The same guy who had answered for me brought up Yeonju.
"Yeah, Yeonju was the most popular, no contest. Especially those tits. Jesus. I would have killed to get my mouth on those things, but every pretty girl in school got eaten by that bastard first, so what chance did anyone else have?"
"You're insane. Even if Minyong hadn't touched her, you think Yeonju would have given a guy like you a second look? You couldn't even talk to girls."
The whole table went under in laughter. We sat there drinking quietly and running our mouths about the old days, and then, about an hour in, the bar began to stir.
"Dude… that woman… wait. Isn't that Yeonju?"
At my friend's words I turned my head. I could see a woman's back — a sexy red dress, high heels. The body was far sleeker than the Yeonju I remembered, and the heels gave her the air of a model.
"Holy shit. That's not even fair. She could go toe-to-toe with most celebrities."
"No, for real. Wait… Yeonju was pretty, but was she that pretty?"
Every one of them had gone slack-jawed at the sight of her back. Yeonju moved naturally toward Minyong's table and sat down in the seat beside Suyeon.
There she was, at last, right in front of me. I put a hand to my chest and felt for the ring in my inner pocket. And I swore it to myself one more time — in a little while, that beautiful woman was going to be mine.