Relationship (8)
…The troublemaker of the Hanseol Group. My name is Han Su-a. I shall now make my official statement.
"Ngh… wait, wait a sec…."
Yes. It felt good. Studying. TV. Cartoons. All the things my parents forced me to learn, claiming they were 'decent hobbies.' Including everything I’ve done in my twenty years of life… having sex with a man was the best feeling of all. It felt so insanely good that I couldn't even think about anything else.
You know that saying, right? That when you get hooked on drugs, you lose interest in everything you used to love. After trying sex, I think I roughly understand why that saying exists. Once I dipped my tongue into such immediate and intense pleasure, all other minor joys started to feel hollow. Sitting on the sofa, hugging a cushion and watching TV isn't fun anymore. Imagining a prince on a white horse while reading sweet, innocent romance comics…. Well, yes. Speaking metaphorically. That doesn't feel as fun as it used to, either. And 'making friends for the sake of the group's image,' which wasn't fun to begin with, has long been tossed into the trash bin of my mind.
Instead, I’ve found a new hobby that suits me perfectly.
"…Phu… phu…."
Masturbation. Using the phone I used to only use for calls and texts to access sites that require adult verification, looking for erotic comics, and shoving my fingers into my hole—which is busy leaking slick fluids—as hard as I can, all the way to the roots. That has become my daily routine.
…Ah, of course, I’m doing it right now, too…. …Ugh…, I am….
"What should I… do…."
The 'appointment' was for 8 o'clock. Since there are still 30 minutes left, I can do it about four more times. So, I gulp down the saliva pooling under my tongue, bury my face deep into the pillow, and let out my breath in earnest. Until my face, already flushed red, becomes even warmer from my own lewd breath.
"No…. No…. Ngh……. …. ……Nooo…."
Just how much fluid has gathered in there? I masturbate by pushing the fluid—which has become more like sludge than just slick—back into my vagina, and like an idiot, my waist trembles uncontrollably. This feels good to a certain extent, but there’s a way to feel even better. It’s by not holding back the voice that leaks out on its own, and by thrusting my fingers in deep. The key is not to stop, even if it feels so good that tears start to stream down my face. Even if, instead of the panting breath leaking from my throat, I start muttering 'no, no' without realizing it; even if my vaginal walls, squeezing my fingers tight, start to spasm as if asking, 'Can't we take a break?'; even if my own moans are buried by the squelching sound of how much fluid I’ve poured out; even if, in the end, a voice similar to crying flows from my mouth that used to only emit moans—I recall the smell of the semen I secretly sniffed last time, I imagine the cock that was buried deep inside my belly… and I make sure to keep the door shut so I don't inconvenience the lady outside, and I thrust my longest finger, my middle finger, all the way to the… root…, …. the root…, and scrape at my vaginal walls. Just like Seo Woo…, …Seo, Teacher used to do for me.
"……, Ngh…. Ugh…. God, go… I’m gonna… c-cum……, …ugh…?!?"
Splurt, splurt. The sound of fluids pouring out never ends. My fingers, already sticky, and my palm, which is the same, are covered in fluid once again. It’s a sight too shameful to show anyone else, but this is my bedroom. It’s a space no one can enter without my permission. I scrape at my vaginal walls, muttering words even I can't understand. Completely melted into the afterglow, I masturbate, listening to the sound of the sheets wrinkling from my movements and the moans ringing from deep in my throat, even while I leak fluid with every twitch of my fingers, making lewd sounds. Because sex is embarrassing.
"……. Haa…. Ha…."
Ah, of course, there is the decisive difference that back then it was a cock, and now it’s a finger, but this isn't bad either. It’s the difference between adding 1 to reach 100, and adding 1000 to reach 100. It’s not bad at all. At least this isn't embarrassing, right? If I have sex with Teacher, my sex partner, I have no choice but to show him my vulgar body, my vulgar moans. I traded my human dignity for pleasure, so it’s a fair exchange, isn't it? Choosing pleasure here is… something only a beast would do. Even though I am a Mutant-type transcendental, I am not a beast.
"…Ahhh……. …That felt, good…."
Anyway. Lately, whenever I come home, I lock myself in my room and only masturbate. …Is it because there are too many wet panties and towels? The lady who does the housework seems to have noticed that I’m hooked on masturbation at some point, but fortunately, she doesn't seem to think much of it. Well, she and I are both women, after all. She must have had a time when she was hooked on masturbation like this, too. How could a woman hate such pleasure? …Ah, maybe lesbians would hate it? Well, I’m not a lesbian…. But I really like this kind of pleasure.
"…."
When I pull my fingers out after the climax, the fluid, slick and clinging as always, flows down my palm. It’s a shameful bodily fluid that has nothing to do with any man, coming solely from my own body. I stare at it for a moment with eyes full of complaints, then carefully bring it to my lips. …It seems that as a woman, I need to get used to this metallic taste. Like last time, when Teacher grabbed Yozora’s pelvis and thrust into her, and then cleaned up with my mouth—there are more chances to taste it than I thought. If I get used to it…. It will be good someday. Someday. Yes. …The official statement ends here. Don't ask any questions. It’s embarrassing.
"28 minutes……."
Lost in my thoughts due to the lingering, floating afterglow, I finally shook it off, licked the fluid between my fingers prettily, and checked my phone. 7:32 PM. It’s been 28 minutes since the time I promised to meet Teacher. Since I gave up on washing properly around the time I started my 7th round of masturbation, if I just roughly wipe off the sweat and head out, I have about 20 minutes left.
"…."
Hoo, hoo. Having pumped enough oxygen into my system, I started touching my clitoris once again. If I meet Teacher with even a shred of sexual desire left, I might completely ignore my plans and say something strange.
152
I haven't lived in a palace-like house yet, but I have experience living in a decent officetel. One thing I still remember is that place—the one that had a wine bar inside the officetel, of all things. It’s not like I lived there to show off my wealth after making a lot of money…, and thinking about it now, it might have been shadow boxing, but regardless, it was because I was on the villain’s side.
What is this Seo Woojin guy doing these days? Seeing as there’s no news, is he affiliated with some overseas sidekick agency? Or is he secretly healing some nouveau riche without rumors and handling money? Well, that would be the case. It would be nice if things continued like this, but isn't there a possibility that he might secretly investigate my background, thinking my silence is suspicious? That’s why, even if it was a hassle, I used to change my residence once in a while just in case….
"The house prices here are a bit strange, too."
On my way to Han Su-a’s place, I looked up the housing prices for fun and let out a dry laugh at the incomprehensible monthly rent. Does she even know how many hours you have to work at minimum wage to earn this much? I doubt Han Su-a even knows what the minimum wage is this year. Thinking about how she receives that much money—no, tens of times that amount—as pocket money without a second thought makes my stomach churn a little. I have to do two or three healing sessions I don't want to do just to earn that much. I’m a little envious, actually.
Beside the road where cars were driving leisurely. I sent a short message to Han Su-a and waited for her with my hands in my coat pockets. Whenever I had time like this, I used to smoke, but since I quit, there’s nothing much to do. Just watching people pass by without a purpose is all. In the meantime, a woman hesitated and tried to talk to me, so I responded appropriately and ignored her just as appropriately. It was obvious she was a cultist, given that she was talking to someone alone and had a striking appearance. I guess these things still exist, even if it is 10 years ago.
Watching the back of the woman walking away, I rubbed the back of my neck, and soon I felt someone approaching me cautiously, so I turned around slightly.
"…."
"Ah, Su-a."
"…."
"You came out faster than I thought? I expected it to take a bit longer."
It was the presence I expected. Han Su-a, in that nondescript casual wear I’d seen a few times in paparazzi shots, was walking toward me from behind. The soft-looking light pink knit zip-up, the loose gray training pants that probably cost barely over ten thousand won—she’s cute enough even in those because her looks carry it, but… since she’s covering everything below her neck, it almost feels like the breasts trapped inside the knit stand out even more.
Since saying something like 'your breasts are so hot' wouldn't leave a good impression, I looked into Han Su-a’s eyes instead and started the conversation.
"Is it okay to talk about what you wanted to say while standing here?"
"…Ah, that is…."
"If you need to, there’s a cafe around the corner, we can go there."
"…."
There are a few pedestrians walking by, but it’s quite quiet. It might be a bit lacking for talking about explicit things like sex, but if we whisper, I think it would be fine. It’s obvious that something like 'I want to have sex' is going to come out of her mouth anyway. It’s just a matter of whether I hear it quickly or take some time to hear it slowly. Just as I was smiling and waiting for Han Su-a’s answer, she gulped and started to speak cautiously.
"…Teacher. I…."
"Yeah."
Now that I look at her, her voice is slightly raspy. How should I put it, it feels like her body has a lewd scent. Before I could even guess the reason, the next words followed.
"Se, sex partner…!"
"…."
"…I want to quit."
"…."
That was it. No other words could follow. Because Han Su-a, after bowing, ran straight into the building. Even though I was standing still, not having properly understood her words. Pitter-patter.