Practice Sex (5)
Looking back on it now, my sister was always pretty.
Even in elementary school, when she couldn't stand studying and just doodled through her textbooks. Even in middle school, once she'd traded her own clothes for a uniform. Even in high school, when she was practically a grown woman already.
Whenever she laughed that bright, ringing laugh among her friends, there was always a puppyish little smile tucked at the corner of her mouth. I remember thinking that was really pretty.
…Ah. Not that I mean it in a bitter way.
Maybe I saved the country in a past life. By some ridiculous stroke of luck, I was born with a face quite a lot like Lee Hayun's.
Kill the bright, bubbly air. Smooth out the voice that stayed excited no matter who she was with, until it went quiet and flat. Kill the clingy familiarity that stuck to anyone like a country puppy. Kill the mouth that was always lifted at the corners, as if smiling were simply the default. Cut the hair—long enough to brush her waist even tied back—off around the shoulders. Then dull those pretty, upturned puppy-dog eyes into something lukewarm and unimpressed, and what you had left was, roughly, Lee Jiyoon.
So I'd never really had any complaints about my looks. I didn't show it in front of people, but I was perfectly aware that someone like me was pretty enough.
But, how do I put it.
Unlike me—pretty and nothing else, friendless, treated like an outcast—my sister was pretty, and being around her felt good. She got along with everyone without a single bit of trouble, and on top of that she was even better at cooking and housework than someone like me.
Little things like that piled up, and I think I had just a tiny bit of an inferiority complex. Tiny. Enough that I counted, one by one, how many times boys had confessed to her—something she wouldn't have spared a thought for. Enough that I snapped Lee Hayun, Lee Hayun at her instead of a proper unnie, and treated her curtly. Enough that I pinned the cause of my chronic headaches on her alone, rather than on the most obvious culprit, gaming.
And enough that I developed a shameful taste I could never, ever tell my sister about.
"Hey, hold— calm down, I said calm—"
143
Hff, hff. I bury my face in the pillow and pant into it.
All I did was say, honestly, whatever came into my head, the way Seo Woojin told me to. And now he's moving even harder than before. It feels so good I could actually die. I manage two or three pleas for him to calm down—aimed at the cock pounding into me like a beast, as if he really means to pulp my womb—and then I'm back to spilling bitch-breaths, one after another.
Ah. So that's why Lee Hayun called him Oppa yesterday, with his cock buried in her. Figures. No matter how masochistic she is, she wouldn't have spent the whole day calling him Oppa from the movie theater onward. She got sex like this for her first time, so of course he started looking like an Oppa to her.
Pfft. Me, and my sister too. We're both real perverts. Must run in the family.
"Ah, fuck… Lee Jiyoon… Lee Jiyoon…"
Not Lee Hayun. Lee Jiyoon. Not my sister's name—mine. Hearing it spill out of my sister's boyfriend's mouth, tangled up with his panting, feels so good a shiver races down my spine. I stay stretched out flat on the bed and just lift my ass, pressing it up against him.
I can't make my own mouth say something that cheap and embarrassing. Please put it in deeper. So I try to take him deeper anyway, and let my body say it for me.
"Hoo… Why do you keep lifting your waist?"
"……"
"Don't just shove your face in the pillow. Say it straight. Why are you lifting your hips?"
"…Nngh… I don't know. I don't know either…"
"You know. Fuck."
"I said I don't…!"
"…Lifting your own waist because it feels good, swallowing the cock yourself. Hayun-noona did the exact same thing yesterday. You think I wouldn't notice, idiot?"
"Nnh… no. No, I'm not…"
"You were talking so honestly a minute ago. Why are you lying again? …Force of habit?"
"Shut… up…"
"…Say it straight. I'll make you feel good."
"Hik…"
His voice drives into my ear, sharp enough to sting, and there's none of the gentleness I usually feel from Seo Woojin in it. Just lust—the want to stuff that rock-hard cock into me with wet, heavy thrusts. And the fixation of wanting to dig even deeper into a heart that's only half-honest now. They gather together and lick at my ear, and whether I'm clenching down on him through an orgasm or not, he doesn't care. He just keeps grinding at the mouth of my womb, persistent, obscene.
…Ah, shit. Crazy bastard. He's buried to the hilt and rubbing circles into my cervix, and it feels so good I think my waist is going to give out.
"…You know. Things like wanting your hair pulled. Wanting me to fuck you while I choke you. Wanting me to come inside if you'll take the pill. Or what you said yourself a minute ago. That works too."
"Ngh… nn… pervert, you— ah, don't, don't press there so hard…"
"Don't press?"
"……"
"Really?"
"……Don't pull all the way out, though…"
"Then stop trying to hide it and say it properly. Please crush my womb until I come."
"…It's not that bad…"
"Hurry up."
"…"
"…We stopping here?"
"Ah, shit, you could at least give me a second to brace myself…!"
"…"
"…Nnh."
"…"
"…My, my womb… please break it… …Ah, until I come… …C-crush it… or don't… nnh…"
"…"
"…I said it. You perverted bastard…"
"……Hoooo… …fucking bitch…"
"Nnghk…?!"
Maybe it's his reward for me swallowing the shame. After fouling my ear with that low murmur, Seo Woojin turns on me like a starved animal and starts devouring me again, driving in deep, again and again. The ass that had been lifting on its own a moment ago gets forced back down, each slap loud and filthy. I fumble the arms that were hugging the pillow out toward his waist and try to push him off. I get stubborn and try to hitch my hips up on purpose anyway. None of it matters. He only gets more worked up, pins me like he's raping me, and drives me down until my stomach meets sheets gone cold and slick with the slick I've been spilling.
It feels like dealing with someone whose reason has simply snapped. Thinking about it a little more, I bet sex would feel exactly like this if I got Seo Woojin dead drunk first.
"Ngh, nnh, nnghk… nn……"
…Alcohol. If he were drunk, nothing left in him but lust, it'd be even worse than this, wouldn't it? So what if the three of us drank together? My sister's incredibly weak to alcohol… though nothing really happened last time, did it? But next time I could pour as much as I wanted into Seo Woojin, knock her out with a single can of something sweet—one of those sparkling soju drinks—and then, after quietly gulping down nothing but water, pretend I was drunk too. Lean on his shoulder. Tempt him. In my room. Or the living room. Right beside my sister, belly bared, sleeping with that happy face, dead to the world even if someone carried her off—I could kiss him as cheaply as I wanted, and maybe get fucked all the way through dawn, thud, thud.
…Should I try it next time? If I text him first and say we should drink with my sister, I bet he'd cancel whatever plans he had and come. He knows perfectly well how weak Lee Hayun is with alcohol.
"Nnngh…… …hk…… seriously, I'm gonna die… …hah……"
His forearms are planted on either side of me. Trapped between them, I take his cock in heavy, wet thrusts like an onahole and let whatever sounds I have fall out of me. Not the pretty moans you hear in porn—beast noises squeezed out of lungs that are being wrung dry. Seo Woojin's lips touch my shoulder while I clutch the pillow and twitch, panting. He wraps himself around me and fucks me hard enough that the bed's creaking fills the room. Not some creepy little game dressed up as sex practice. Real sex, a woman's body being used for the sole purpose of coming. I'm feeling a strange excitement at that when his breath rushes out, like the urge to finish has boiled up, and he locks his arms around me and starts driving into my walls.
"…?! The deepest— ngh, all the way in— hey, shit, just a little— ngh, aah…"
Thud. Thud. Thud. Every time that thick head crushes my womb without mercy, my pupils jerk upward. I cling to consciousness any way I can, and he whispers a light curse in my ear—the condom's slipping, so stop clenching—then draws his cock out for a moment.
…Aha. Is he giving me a break? I'm shaking all over, so maybe he's giving me a little time to settle. I ignore the whisper I just heard and keep gasping through some completely wrong fantasy, and before even five seconds have passed, a cock that feels even tighter scrapes along my walls and drives all the way back in.
Even if Seo Woojin uses my body like a toy, all I can do is curl my toes and endure the pleasure.
"…, …heh…… …?♡ ……nnhik…… ……"
Even when he pushes two fingers between my lips and toys with my tongue however he likes while he grinds into me, all I can do is drool onto the already spit-soaked pillow and suck on them. And when he grabs my cheek and jaw, turns my face, and mixes his tongue with mine—not a kiss so much as making me drink his spit—all I can do is obediently stick my tongue out. Bleh. Most of what I do is taken out of my control, and the pleasure is forced into me anyway. Exactly the sort of thing a masochist like Lee Hayun would love. He pounds my pussy all the way to the end, slap, slap, worked up past reason, and I just gulp down the spit he feeds me.
"Hah… nnghh… ……, ……bleh…"
…But why. Why does this man still have no intention of coming? A minute ago he would've grabbed my hips and yanked me tight against him and spurted it out around now. So why, even while he's breathing that hard, isn't he coming? I feel like my mind could cut out any second.
"Hey, Seo Woo… jin… when the hell are you, nnh… gonna come…"
"…Why? You want me to come fast?"
"That's not what I— aah… Your cock's been twitching like crazy this whole time, and you're not saying anything, so of course I'm asking…!"
"Hoo… well, obviously…. Wait. You still don't get it?"
"Get what, all of a sudden…"
"…Nothing feel off to you?"
"…?"
If this goes on much longer I might actually pass out. I've already blown past what my body can take. Idiot. I don't want to say it straight, so I mewl out my complaints and pin them on his condition instead, and what comes back is an answer I can't quite understand. Something off? What? Making me say embarrassing things? If it isn't that, then what? While I groan into the pillow I'm hugging, the answer reaches my ear.
"When I pulled out for a second, you were clenching so hard I took the condom off."
And—
"You didn't feel me fucking you raw? …Not even a little?"
An extremely—
"…This. The thing pressing into your womb right now. It's my bare cock, idiot."
"…"
"And just like you said, a bare cock twitching like crazy because I'm forcing myself not to come."
—dangerous answer.