Her, Beyond Friends But Not Quite Lovers: Extreme Date 2
Shhh. Kim Il-woo deliberately made some noise as he leaned his upper body forward, and she tensed up completely, her body going rigid as her breathing grew ragged.
Thump. Thump.
"Hik…?!"
Leaning forward, he brought his nose right to the crown of Choi Ara's head, visible just below him, and loudly sniffed her scent. She had to know some creep was smelling her—there was no way she didn't—and she let out a small scream of horror, but her fear was so overwhelming that she couldn't turn around or run, frozen in place.
She must be terrified.
An unknown person starting something suspicious right behind her. Still haunted by the trauma of her rape, without even her childhood friend to rely on now that he'd stepped away—this was her second encounter with a molester. Kim Il-woo slipped his hand between the seats and touched a lock of her long hair that reached down to her waist.
"…!!!"
Choi Ara began trembling at the sensation of someone stroking her hair.
Swish.
Kim Il-woo's hand pulled a section of her hair back, making a rough, obvious sniffing sound.
"Sniff sniff… haa… haa…"
At the filthy breathing that screamed pervert, Choi Ara froze, forgetting to even breathe.
Why do women smell so damn good?
Even when she was holed up in her room like a shut-in, Choi Ara had this seductive, mind-clouding scent. She was in much better shape now, so it carried that sweet peach aroma from before, stirring up the urge to suck it right out of her.
Now that she's aware there's a pervert behind her, time to make a move.
Kim Il-woo reached forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, frozen in terror. Her body jerked sharply, then stiffened like a rock.
"Miss, you seem tense?"
He lowered his voice to a whisper, keeping it so quiet she wouldn't recognize him. Realizing the hands on her were a man's, her breathing grew even rougher.
Squeeze, squeeze.
Not quite a massage—his touch on her shoulders oozed lewdness. He savored the texture as if licking her skin with his tongue, kneading her shoulders with obscene strokes that slowly drifted downward.
"Haa! Haa! Haa!"
Choi Ara felt the snake-like hand creeping up her chest over her clothes, staring straight ahead, rigid. She wanted to glance down and see what was happening, but fear paralyzed her—not even a finger would move. Her blank mind endlessly called for the absent childhood friend.
Il-woo! Il-woo! Il-woo!
As if sensing her desperate plea, his lewd hand gripped her teardrop-shaped breasts, which heaved up and down with her gasps, still holding their perfect form.
"Heek?!"
"Oh…"
Kim Il-woo let out a pure sigh of admiration at the ecstatic feel filling his palms. Even through her clothes, the superb elasticity and softness of her breasts sparked a dizzying excitement that could become addictive.
"Miss, what cup size are these? Wow… you've got some amazing tits."
He whispered filthy words right in her ear like ASMR, savoring the sensation.
She's holding up better than expected?
She was panting like she might pass out from panic, but since she was enduring more than he'd thought, he figured he could push further. His hands slid lower from her breasts, slipping into the gap between her T-shirt and jeans.
Twitch!
She'd put on a bit of weight from her shut-in days, but her waist was still slim. As he caressed it tenderly, she trembled like bugs were crawling on her skin.
"Miss, getting turned on from me touching you? Why's your body so hot?"
He knew damn well it wasn't arousal—it was terror heating her up—but he played the molester to the hilt.
"Haaak! Haaak! Haaak!"
Choi Ara's body heaved with every breath now. Through his palms, Kim Il-woo felt the scorching heat and her skin growing slick with cold sweat from fear.
A bit more?
He sensed her condition worsening, but her pitiful gasps and the smooth, desire-stirring feel of her body had him aroused too. He sent both hands—one up, one down—from her waist.
Click, click, clank, ziiiip.
The sound of her jeans' buckle and zipper opening blended into the horror movie's noisy chaos, unheard by anyone, fading quickly. With the front of her jeans undone, there was room for his hand to slither into her panties.
Wriggle, wriggle, wriggle.
His snaking fingers crept—one into her bra cupping her breasts, the other into her panties.
"…!!!!!"
Choi Ara realized what was coming next. Her ragged breaths stopped, her whole body locking up in terror.
Passing the underwire of her bra, his palm met her plump breasts bit by bit. His other hand crossed the taut elastic of her panties, fingertip reaching the deep valley between her legs.
"…"
The theater screening the horror flick buzzed with the heroine's screams as she fled the monster, but around them, the air was cut off—eerie tension hanging like a void.
As if announcing what came next, the hand over her breast climbed the lofty peak, while the other teased her twitching mound.
"Miss, letting me go this far without resisting? You must be one hell of a pervert."
"Haa! Haa! Haa!"
Kim Il-woo whispered like he was brainwashing her, exploiting her terror-mute state.
You don't know shit…!
Even dizzy from hyperventilating, defiance surged at the molester's words amid her violation. It was pathetic she couldn't even refute that she wasn't that kind of girl. Tears streamed down as she forced her trembling lips to move.
"I'm… not… a pervert…!"
The moment Choi Ara squeezed out her denial with her last strength—
Squeeze! Stab! Jerk!
The molester's hand clamped her breast hard, a thick finger piercing her pussy, silencing her. Her body bucked like it might launch from the seat, but his hand forced her back down.
"Ah… aa…! Ah…"
Fear-squeezed whimpers leaked from her lips. His hand ravaged her breasts—groping, kneading, caressing like a lover. The finger inside her pussy chewed away like intercourse, stabbing her sensitive spots to force pleasure.
"No way. You're soaked through already."
He pulled his panty-slick finger out and shoved it in front of her tear-streaked face. Even in the dark, his thick digit gleamed coated in clear nectar. Its musky scent wafted to her nose.
"Aaa…! Ah!"
Choi Ara could only let out childish, staccato moans, head bowed, unable to affirm or deny. Kim Il-woo plunged back into her panties, more relentlessly and stickily violating her.
Stab! Stab! Stab!
The lewd squelches mixed faintly into the movie noise, vanishing quick. As the fingering continued, her waist arched and bucked bit by bit.
"Nng…?! Aaht…!"
He pinpointed every weak spot like a ghost, stabbing and stroking to force her arousal. Amid panic, Choi Ara flailed in the bizarre mix of pleasure.
Her tear-filled eyes lost focus; her panting mouth drooled sloppily, a wretched sight.
"Miss, go ahead and cum your brains out for this molester."
"Ah…?! Aaa…! N-no…! Hate…!"
His words pierced her hazy mind, making her objectively feel her body's state.
This can't be!
She couldn't comprehend her body nearing climax. Her heart screamed for blackout from agony, yet her flesh reveled in joy!
Stab! Stab! Stab!
The panty-muffled squelching intensified.
"Ah?! Aaak…! Ah…!!!"
Choi Ara wailed in desperate need, waist bowing like a drawn bow. Sensing the moment, Kim Il-woo yanked his breast hand free and yanked her seatback down.
Clunk!
The seat flipped back, revealing her tear- and drool-smeared face. Tears blinded her—she couldn't recognize him even up close. Kim Il-woo gazed down at his filthy, more beautiful-than-any-woman possession and kissed her.
"Mmph?!"
Her dazed eyes flew wide. Realizing the kiss, she tried shoving the lip-invader away—but his fingering hand struck the finisher. The one spot he'd avoided: her clit. Swollen and begging, he crushed it hard.
Squeeze!
"Hnnngh?!"
Her waist snapped back—then.
Spurt! Splurt! Spuuurt!
A massive squirt soaked through her white panties, drenching her jeans. Without them, it'd have splashed 2-3 front seats. Choi Ara shuddered at the tongue ravaging her mouth and the orgasmic storm crashing through her. Trembling like leaves, her crotch slick with her own juices, toes clenched in dizzying release—she wept.
"Mmmph… nn… haaah…"
She gasped into the kiss, drowning in climax waves, then slumped boneless into the seat.
"Haa… haa… haa…"
Feeling her collapse in exhaustion, Kim Il-woo broke the kiss and looked down at his melted childhood friend's obscene face. The face of a bitch in heat.
"Ara, feel good?"
"H-huh…?"
Her pleasure-soaked brain wouldn't turn. At the familiar voice, she blanked out a weird noise, blinking teary eyes.
Tears cleared her view, revealing in the dark the infuriatingly familiar face of her childhood friend.
"I-Il-woo…?"
"Yeah, it's me. Fun playing molester?"
"P-play…?!?!?"
Forgetting they were in a theater, Choi Ara shrieked—but the movie speakers drowned it. Shame or rage flushed her face visibly even in the dark.
"Don't get so mad."
"Wouldn't you be?! Do you know how scared I was?!"
Climax afterglow and fury tangled, her voice quivered as she protested.
Kim Il-woo leaned to her ear, whispering teasingly as she glared up.
"Turns out my Ara's a total perv, huh?"
He dangled his pussy-juice-slick fingers before her—the proof she'd gotten off on a stranger's molesting.
"Eeeek?!"
Even in the dark, his gleaming fingers mortified her—she wanted a hole to crawl into.
Kim Il-woo grinned slyly, sucking the nectar off right in front of her writhing shame.
"Wha—what…!!! What are… you…!!!"
At him brazenly slurping her juices, she recoiled like he'd seen a monster.
"Ara. I love you."
With the sudden confession, he kissed her.
"Wha—what…?! Wha—mmph…?!"
Stab! Stab! Stab!
"Hnnngh?!"
He showered kisses while fingering her sopping pussy. Reclined, Choi Ara endured his forceful, sticky kisses and obsessive probing—cumming countless times until the movie ended.