This Drinking Party is Insane (2)
"I… have one."
Jian’s short, crystal-clear confession ripped through the silence of the living room. In that instant, it felt as if an icy hand had seized my heart. My breath froze in my throat. Sujung sat beside me, completely rigid, eyes wide. The ever-present relaxed smile on Seunghun’s face evaporated in a single heartbeat.
The scorching saliva from the living room moments ago, the silky texture of Jian’s skin that had slid across my palm—every forbidden memory threatened to spill across the glossy marble table. Cold sweat poured down my spine like rain.
But just before the silence could spiral into disaster, Jian let out a lazy, giggling laugh.
"…is a lie. Haha. Why are you all making those faces? So scary."
In the briefest flicker of time, Jian cast a strange glance my way. It was a look that seemed to say, Scared? How cute. A gaze so obscenely seductive and composed that it nearly stopped my heart.
The moment our eyes met, the taut string of tension snapped. A tidal wave of relief crashed over me. Yet that relief returned as a vicious, lingering poison. In the loosened gap, the act I had shared with Jian in the corner of the living room resurfaced in vivid afterimages.
The sweet, lewd scent of her breath. The warm, agile tongue that had insistently explored my mouth. Each time those sensations brushed my mind, my stalled heart began to pound abnormally again. What followed relief was an even deeper indulgence. I suddenly became aware of the heavy heat rising in my groin and flinched, hastily adjusting my posture so no one would notice.
"Ah, what the hell! Unnie! You really startled me!"
Sujung exhaled the breath she had been holding and smacked my arm hard. A flash of relief crossed my wife’s face, but the wine she had already drained past one full bottle left her gaze dangerously unsteady. Seunghun finally relaxed his stiffened expression and burst into loud laughter. The corners of his eyes were already bloodshot; the usual sharp intelligence had been replaced by a wild gleam of intoxication.
"Hey, Kim Jian! Were you a theater major? I was seriously about to run off and stamp divorce papers, you know? Lol."
Still joking, Seunghun pushed the penalty wine toward Jian. She accepted the glass, staring straight at me over its rim while her lips moved silently.
"Sorry, everyone. The mood got too serious, so I wanted to have a little fun. I’ll drink the penalty, okay?"
Perhaps her senses were already numb from drinking so much, but Jian sipped the wine with deliberate slowness, as if savoring the tension that slid down her throat. The sight of the red liquid wetting her thin lips and slipping past them was unbearably erotic. I stared at the scene in a daze, endlessly wondering whether the words she had just spoken were truly one hundred percent a lie.
After emptying the glass, Jian lightly licked her wine-stained lips with the tip of her tongue and pointed at me. The living room was now thick and humid with the vibrating smell of alcohol and the hot breath of four people. I swallowed dryly. Jian rested her chin on her hand, staring at me intently. Her face was flushed with pleasant intoxication, yet her eyes remained languid and moist, burrowing into me with relentless intensity.
"Junseok, remember last Saturday at the camping ground when we were all drunk?"
Jian paused, pressing the wine glass to her lips and taking an agonizingly slow sip. Then, as if dragging the damp air from just a few days ago into the present, she continued in a low, sticky voice.
"You said it’s already been two years since you and Sujung last did it. That you’ve been struggling so much lately. Don’t you remember? Hehe."
The silence in the living room settled far heavier and sharper than before. Two years. The number I had drunkenly blurted out during our drinking session at the camping ground last Saturday was now exposed again through Jian’s red lips.
In that moment, fragments of Sujung’s confession in the car the day after camping flashed through my mind. How, after I got drunk and complained that our sex life was dry, Seunghun had thrown those blatant retorts at her. And the sensation of Sujung’s abnormally hot, abundant arousal that had soaked my fingertips. Even after several days, that sticky trace still felt vividly imprinted on my skin.
"How exactly do you handle those desires? I’m really… just so curious. Hehe."
She smiled prettily, tilting her eyes like an innocently curious girl. But that smile kept dragging out the image of Sujung’s back as she disappeared into the quiet outside the tent with Seunghun, tormenting me.
All four of us had already surpassed our limits. Normal thought was paralyzed by the alcohol. The living room vibrated with the scent of wine, ragged breathing, and the raw animal urges that bloomed where reason had been stripped away. Jian shifted her gaze from me—frozen in panic—to Sujung, who was blankly watching us both, as if mocking my reaction.
"Sujung, we’re all drunk, right? I only asked because it was similar to what we were all talking about at the campsite last week. Don’t take it the wrong way? Unnie’s drunk ramblings are a bit much today. I’m sorry, Sujung."
Jian smiled sweetly and gently patted the back of Sujung’s hand. Sujung was already quite drunk, her focus wavering, but she forced a carefree laugh and clasped Jian’s hand. Yet the fingers of my wife’s other hand—the one gripping my arm—trembled so violently they dug into my flesh. That trembling felt like both shame and a strange signal from instincts suppressed beneath the intoxication.
"Aigoo, Unnie! What are you saying? Oppa was just talking nonsense because he was so drunk that time. You even remembered all that? We’re family—why would I get upset over something like that? You’re really cute when you’re drunk, Unnie. It’s fine! Haha."
Sujung giggled with a slightly slurred tongue and filled her empty glass. She was so numb she didn’t even notice the wine spilling over the rim and onto the table.
Jian seemed to enjoy Sujung’s precarious “mask.” Beneath the table, her toes once again slowly stroked the top of my foot. The soft texture of her bare foot shattered what remained of my reason into dust.
A man who’s starved for two years was that obsessively devouring my tongue in the living room earlier?
Jian’s eyes seemed to say exactly that. The shame of having my sexual frustrations exposed in front of my wife was nothing compared to the way my lower belly throbbed heavily at Jian’s seductive provocation despite knowing everything.
"Junseok, your face is so red. I’m genuinely curious. If you hold it in that long… doesn’t it make you sick?"
Jian drove the wedge in deeper, giving me a slight, playful smile. This living room was no different now from that humid tent at the campsite. The lewd instincts hidden behind my wife’s prim mask. Jian’s blatant provocations meant to drag them out. And me, observing it all, feeling an excitement so intense it threatened to burst.
Where reason had vanished, only a primal thirst to devour one another remained. We were no longer husbands and wives protecting our families. We were merely beasts soaked in alcohol and desire, trying to consume each other. Instead of answering, I lifted my full glass of wine with a trembling hand and drank it in one gulp. The strong alcohol burning down my throat paralyzed my reason, and the shame that had been crushed by Jian’s direct assault twisted into a strange defiance.
Staring straight into Jian’s eyes—eyes that seemed delighted to treat me like a beast—I turned to Seunghun, whose face was already flushed and eyes gleaming, and opened my mouth.
It was a terribly timid yet audacious revenge against Jian, who had driven me into a corner.
"Hyung… I have a similar kind of question. You said you do it often with Jian. But why do you want it so much? Is it because you want it, or because Jian wants it?"
At my provocative counterattack, Seunghun blinked, momentarily flustered. The ever-composed rhythm of his usual demeanor faltered for a split second. I didn’t miss the way Jian’s eyebrows twitched upward slightly. Seunghun soon wore a bitter smile and tried to steady his swaying head. He was so drunk he could barely sit upright, yet the voice slipping from his lips was that of a beast that had forgotten all shame—blatantly raw.
"Hey, Im Junseok… that’s a pretty heavy question. But it’s not just one person’s greed. Simply put, Jian and I… our sexual compatibility is fucking insane."
With a slurred tongue, Seunghun roughly pulled Jian closer by the waist and continued.
"I always start with foreplay. I lick and suck every inch of Jian’s body until she’s so hot she can’t stand it. Then she starts begging, saying she can’t wait anymore, and down there she gets so wet it’s practically flooding. That’s when I thrust in. Seriously… that heat and stickiness—you wouldn’t understand unless you’ve felt it. Her tight walls grip my cock, chewing and sucking on it, and when you hear those wet, squelching sounds right by your ear, your mind just goes blank."
The primitive, filthy description pouring from Seunghun’s mouth churned the humid air of the living room. But it wasn’t only his voice that rang in my ears.
Every time his lips described Jian’s body, the scorching saliva I had shared with her in the living room corner and the feeling of my palm gripping her ass resurfaced vividly in my mind.
The fantasy slithered like a snake, gnawing away at my reason. I fell into the illusion that I was the one caressing every inch of Jian’s body, stirring up that hot, dripping pussy. In my head, the walls that were taking Seunghun’s cock were instead gripping and nibbling mine, and the phantom heat made my own cock strain painfully hard inside my pants. My heart pounded as if it would explode. What dominated me was not jealousy, but a bizarre form of sharing and indulgence.
By the time Seunghun finished speaking, he gave Sujung—who had been listening in a drunken daze—a faint, mysterious smile.
No words were spoken, yet that vulgar, blatant smile struck Sujung far more powerfully than the filthy descriptions he had just uttered. It was an arrogant look that seemed to say, You heard it all, didn’t you? This is what real living feels like.
In that moment, I looked at Sujung. My wife, her face already burning red, had taken the full brunt of Seunghun’s vivid dirty talk and the explicit smile that followed. She looked utterly entranced. Her body trembled ever so slightly. She swallowed hard—loud enough to make an audible gulp—as if to soothe her burning throat.
It was the moment my wife’s moist eyes, once dulled by frigidity, wandered without direction, and a depraved stimulus seeped wetly over her prim mask. Shame and arousal tangled messily across her face as the primal thirst she had suppressed began to pry its way out….