Fucking the Daughter Right Under Mom's Roof 1
Around noon, Kim Il-woo dropped by his childhood friend's house.
She was supposed to send me a nude selfie this morning, but she ignored it?
He'd taken out his frustration on Lee Seo-yoon after Choi Ara had whined and run off, and it had been a pretty satisfying session. He'd been looking forward to that morning selfie, but this was a real cockblock.
Il-woo punched in the passcode and strode into Ara's house like it was his own.
"Huh...?"
Stepping through the front door, he caught the eerie silence hanging in the air, laced with a strange tension. He scanned the tense atmosphere of the house, kicked off his shoes, and paused as something odd caught his eye.
"This is..."
Lee Seo-yoon's black high heels, crusted with dried semen.
Something's off.
Given Seo-yoon's personality, she'd be desperate to hide her situation from her daughter, so leaving these out meant she hadn't even gotten this far—something must have consumed her attention.
What happened after I left last night?
Coming home covered in body graffiti wouldn't have been easy, but he'd figured it was just some molester or public humiliation at worst. But abandoning heels reeking of cum like this? That pointed to something major.
Did she get raped?
Il-woo had his twisted tastes, but his possessiveness ran just as deep. He didn't mind his bitches getting ruined under his direction, but if some rando got to them behind his back? That was a different story.
He hurried to Seo-yoon's room. Amid the faint lavender scent lingered the fishy musk of semen—his friend's mom's bedroom.
"..."
Seo-yoon lay on her side on the bed, collapsed in exhaustion, fast asleep.
Still in yesterday's clothes?
She hadn't even changed, just passed out as is. No face wash either—dried cum flecks clung to her cheeks. Under her blouse, "dog cunt" was scrawled on her lower belly; on the top of her foot, "cock house" still legible despite some smudging.
Did she cry all night?
Her eyes were puffy, tear tracks stark around them.
Il-woo approached cautiously, half-peeled off her pencil skirt, and prodded the crotch of her peach-colored panties.
"Hnn...?"
The sleeping woman let out a puzzled moan at the touch on her sensitive spot but didn't wake.
Not raped, then?
What could have broken this unbreakable woman to tears and exhaustion? He was dying to know.
"I'll let it slide this time since disobeying my order wasn't intentional."
From the looks of it, she'd been out cold since stumbling home last night. Her desperate effort to obey shone through in this pathetic state, so he'd forgive her.
Click.
That image of such a strong woman broken to sobbing sleep was too pathetic not to snap a pic.
"Sweet dreams, then."
Il-woo gave an oddly gentlemanly farewell and slipped out quietly. No point leaving empty-handed, so he decided to at least see Ara's face before going. He knocked on her door.
"..."
No answer. He knocked again, announcing himself, and heard rustling from inside.
"Coming in."
Click.
Unlike yesterday, it wasn't locked. Il-woo pushed open the door to his childhood friend's room.
The stuffy moldy stench from lack of ventilation mixed with the faint sweet aroma of a girl's room—and the overwhelming, pussy-drenched musk of a bitch in heat filling every corner. He froze.
What the hell?
This mind-numbing feminine reek hadn't been here yesterday. It was so thick he was honestly spooked. Had Ara been fucking someone all night? The air swam with pussy juice and raw woman-scent.
"..."
Thankfully—or not—there she was on the bed, back to the door.
"You asleep?"
Il-woo ignored the decadent air and approached. Not asleep, apparently; as he got closer, she yanked the covers higher, making her disgust crystal clear.
"Your mom's still out cold too, and it's the weekend—everyone sleeping in? What's up with that?"
Twitch!
Mention of mom made Ara's tension spike visibly.
Something went down between them.
Did she catch mom coming home like that? If so, she must know who did it—and that's why she's avoiding me? Theories swirled, but nothing solid.
"Don't wanna see me anymore?"
Il-woo picked an ambiguous line that worked either way and sat on her bed's edge to test her, closing the physical gap.
No bolting... so she didn't find out?
If she had, even broken Ara would've cursed him out or at least slapped him. Without strength for that, she'd have fled by now. No sign of it.
Guess she hasn't caught on that I'm balls-deep in mom.
He was dying to know what happened between mother and daughter, but decided not to pry. One tip from his future wife: the more withdrawn Ara got, the less you say—just stay by her side.
Guided by that, Il-woo fiddled silently with his phone, killing time beside her.
Shhhrk.
Eventually, calmed or annoyed by him, Ara poked her face from the covers and stared.
Her hair was messier than yesterday, face grubby; eyes swollen from crying too.
"Haven't showered since yesterday?"
Il-woo teased his childhood friend lightly, acting like he couldn't care less about her mood—same as always, carefree or just inconsiderate.
"......Am I dirty to you?"
Her voice was hoarse from a night of tears.
"Duh, obviously. Normal people shower once a day..."
"No."
Ara cut him off, crawling out and standing before him. Same pajamas as yesterday, but even more disheveled. Her pheromones hit like a drug, her state screaming anything but normal.
She unbuttoned her top one by one until she was stark naked.
An unbelievable body for someone holed up ignoring it: flawless curves, ghostly pale skin radiating intoxicating scent, thrust bare before him.
"I feel filthy."
Ara hung her head, dead eyes scanning her prime 20-something form.
"What's so great about this?"
She grabbed a heavy breast; it jiggled, reshaping in her grip like ripe fruit.
"Did this body cause all that horror? Why am I like this? Mom must hate looking at me now."
Last night's memory welled tears again. The shock of rejection from the mom she'd trusted unconditionally. Hated by her only family—negative thoughts bubbled endlessly, mind a wreck.
Ara didn't know what she was saying or why. Dam broken, she spewed incoherent ramblings in a mess of uncontainable emotion.
"What about you?"
Her shadowed, pain-filled gaze turned to him. A tear traced her cheek; her agonized beauty stirred him—yep, hopeless perv.
"Asking me? Fuck yeah, I'm rock hard."
"......What?"
"Dirty my ass. I wanna fuck you right now."
Il-woo bared his raw, filthy lust without filter.
Ara knew her childhood friend was twisted and perverted, but not this level—stunned.
"What tragic heroine bullshit. 'Defiled'? Give me a break. If you were my girl, I'd have jumped you already."
To prove it, he pointed to his tented pants, showing her plain as day how turned on he was.
Future wife here's gonna see way worse than this...
Il-woo shrugged off rape filth or mom drama like dust.
Ara's heart pounded at his blatant horniness and total disregard for her "ruined" head and body. Her face flushed hot.
Why's my heart racing like this?
She knew she was overdoing the tantrum. Last night, she'd pushed spoiled-brat mode too far on mom's unconditional love, causing disaster. She knew her boyfriend and childhood friend cared—but was it as a woman?
Like with mom, boiling lust and rage made her test them, but fear held her back. Rejection from mom fueled anxiety, driving this madness.