Guess I Was Hornier
Guess I must've been hornier.
"…Fuck. Say something that makes sense."
Shim Sona's pupils shook. The wetness gathered at the corners of her eyes seemed to well even deeper. But she was the one who'd asked for this first. Shoving his cock in without a condom, threatening to finish inside her—all of it was nothing but staging, built to give her the feeling of being overpowered that she wanted. If she blew up later, or tried to wriggle out of it with I was acting too, all he had to say was that he'd stayed faithful to the concept.
Of course he was in a dangerous state. His lower belly throbbed so hard that one more thrust and he'd spill straight into her pussy. Even so, he had not the slightest intention of actually cumming inside. He didn't have a speck of desire to get hauled into a police station and branded a criminal. Forcing a pathetic little apology out of her was one thing. He didn't have the guts to actually cross that line. The moment an orphan, a nobody, a guy scraping by on part-time jobs got framed as a criminal on top of everything else, the rest of his life would be smashed to pieces in a cell. That much was obvious.
So he slowed, just for a moment, buying himself a little time. With his free hand he spread Shim Sona's pussy even rougher. The entrance already had his cock buried deep and stretched to its limit, and still he forced his middle and index fingers in alongside it.
"Kyaaak! Out—take it out! What are you putting in now?!"
"What do you think. My fingers."
"F-fingers?"
Shim Sona's eyes rolled for an instant, unfocused. At the same time the flesh taking his cock and two fingers at once blanched and drew drum-tight. Slick with her fluids, she gaped so wide it felt like she might split, the sensation traveling clean through to his fingertips and his shaft.
"I—I've never—this is my first time!"
She screamed and thrashed, trying to get away, but her legs were already hooked over his shoulders, and the hands that had been shoving at him were caught in one of his and pinned completely above her head. He let out a ragged breath and asked.
"So what if it's your first."
"Your cock and your fingers?! That's too much! I'm gonna tear—I'm really gonna tear—!"
"You think flesh tears that easy? Babies come out of here. And since when does a criminal listen to the victim?"
At that, Shim Sona looked up at him for the first time with something like real fear on her face. Under his eyes—eyes that looked as if he really might cum inside her—her thin legs trembled where they rested on his shoulders.
"D-don't. Please."
Finally the word please came out of Shim Sona's mouth. Even so he drove his cock and his fingers deeper and gave the order again, low.
"That's not the answer. Apologize."
"Hnn—nnh, ah… s-sorry."
Her voice was already closer to ragged panting than a moan. Broken, shaking, the syllables barely forming. But he heard that short sorry clear as anything.
"Haa… haa…"
As if he'd been waiting for exactly that, he yanked his glistening cock out in a rush and came straight onto Shim Sona's stomach. Thick semen splattered above her navel and spilled sideways, that urgent.
"Y-you came?"
The moment the hot load poured over her navel, Shim Sona half-raised her small body and stared blankly down at her own stomach. He let her wrists go. There was the satisfaction of having wrung an apology out of her, and the afterglow of having just wrecked a top actress's virgin pussy with his cock. But this was a body that already worked twice as hard as anyone else's, and then sex on top of that—he was coated in sweat and grime, his eyes stinging from it.
"If I play it like this, it should work…"
Forcing a cool act, he left Shim Sona staring at her own stomach on the table and strolled into the bathroom to wash.
"Whew. That came out natural."
Truth was, you could just as well say he'd fled because he was scared she'd throw a fit. Acting or not, he was the one who'd had the nerve—a Jjindda piece of shit—to shove it in raw and threaten to cum inside.
Semen still running down her stomach, Shim Sona lay sprawled across the table and stared blankly at Baek Seogeom's back as he disappeared into the bathroom.
"…He's really just walking off. Fucking bastard."
The sound of washing reached her, and she barely pushed her upper body up on trembling arms. Thick semen slid down past her navel. A sour smell, faintly fishy underneath.
"…It was acting?"
Her hands shook, just barely. She couldn't tell whether it was from having no strength left, or from the intense stimulation she'd felt for the first time. She simply followed instinct, scooped the semen off her stomach, and rubbed it between her fingers. Sticky. Hot.
"…So this is cum."
Her thighs were still throbbing. She barely slid down and sank onto the floor, and the place his cock had gone in and come out burned even hotter. She could even feel the entrance left subtly open.
"Hnn… it feels weird."
Spellbound, she drifted her fingers down, and even a brush made her flinch, oversensitive. It reminded her, vividly, that a man's cock had been buried there only moments ago. So vivid that she stared blankly down at her own pussy—not a single hair on it—for a long while. Then, with a soft rustle, she drew her phone from the leather pouch lying some distance away.
On the screen, the message she'd received from Han Seoyeon at dawn still sat exactly as it had arrived.
Seventeen, was she? The orphan brat she'd worked like a gofer. Tired face and all, say one word and he'd run all the way to the club room and back. She'd heard he was one of the students the school had let in just to fill a headcount, all that noise about fairness and equal opportunity. Seeing him in person, it made sense at once. You needed a face, money, or at least some kind of presence, and he was the most ordinary high school kid imaginable—born to stand in the background.
And now, years later, that same guy had not only fucked her pussy raw. He'd laid her out on the table, sprayed his cum across her stomach, and walked off.
Shim Sona rubbed the semen still clinging to her stomach with her finger again and typed.
The sticky fluid spread across her skin, the sour smell thickening, but that wasn't what mattered. She was more curious about how Han Seoyeon would react. A reply came before long.
After she sent it, Shim Sona set the phone down and turned her eyes back to the ceiling. Blue mold she'd never seen the likes of in her life crusted the whole thing, and the semen on her stomach still gave off a thick, sour smell. For someone who wasn't merely sensitive to scent but obsessed with it, the stench should have been plenty to turn her stomach. Even so, the corner of her mouth refused to drop. She'd asked for the rape concept, yes—but getting a version clearly rougher and filthier than Han Seoyeon's sat strangely well with her.
Ten minutes later, the old bathroom door opened, and that orphan brat came out with a single towel around his waist, the water not yet gone from his skin.
"You didn't go home…?"
The worst line a man who'd just fucked her raw could possibly manage.
"Why are you… still like that…?"
I'd thought she went home. No—I'd thought she'd at least be at the front door, putting her shoes on. Han Seoyeon, last night, had said my rundown studio bathroom was too filthy to wash in, thrown her clothes on, and walked straight out. There was no way Shim Sona—that fussy little tyrant, unusually particular about cleanliness and scent—would wait around to shower in a bathroom blooming with mold. Once the acting practice she'd demanded was over, I'd figured she'd want out of this awful studio even one second sooner. So, partly just to catch my breath, I'd deliberately washed every corner, very slowly, until there was no sign of me left.
So why is she still sitting there exactly like that.
"Oh, now you come out? Took you long enough. Filthy as hell."
No. Why was she sitting on the floor of my cramped little studio without a single piece of clothing on, semen half-dried across her stomach?
"Don't tell me… you can't even stand? Want me to help you up?"
I gripped the towel around my waist tighter and went to her. Honestly, I hadn't seen this coming at all. Last night Han Seoyeon had gone three rounds and still spread herself from behind asking for more, so I'd never dreamed one time would leave someone collapsed on the floor. I'd never seen it in porn either—a woman losing the strength in her legs right after a single round.
Shim Sona held out a hand, ambiguous. Hard to tell whether she wanted the towel or tissues.
"Wh-what should I get you…?"
"Give me tissues. Even the towel's gonna smell like mold."
I opened my mouth to argue and shut it. Honestly, I couldn't remember the last time I'd boiled my towels clean. Just imagining pressing one—rough-washed and dried under a moldy ceiling—against Shim Sona's body was embarrassing enough. I snatched up a pack of tissues stacked beside the bed and handed it to her.
"You piece of shit, that's a surprising amount of cum. But is this pathetic little bit even gonna be enough? I have to show the director properly."
"Huh…?"
Shim Sona took the tissues without answering. Then she wiped from the half-dried semen on her stomach all the way to the inside of her thighs, more thoroughly than I'd expected. The way she openly rubbed with her fingers, erasing what was left, was strangely bare. Every time the tissue grazed the reddened flesh, the memory of having been pounding that same place only moments ago came back.
And right then she crumpled the tissue, tossed it on the floor, and opened her mouth.
"You think once is gonna cut it? You went three times with Han Seoyeon. Why the discrimination?"
Just how much do women tell each other? And where does it even stop?