Four Ounces Deflects a Thousand Pounds (9)
Four Ounces Deflects a Thousand Pounds (9)
Light and color were extremely personal.
Even under the same lighting, they showed different appearances depending on one's mental image and mood that day. Did the light read my heart and change on its own? Or was there no light there to begin with, and did I merely think something different existed according to my mood?
Amid these questions without answers, one thing I was certain of was that the corridor today took on a very suggestive hue. The lanterns lighting the corridor as usual dyed the wooden pillars a red like that of a red-light district today.
The leaves reflected light so intensely I almost thought they looked yellow, and the unlit parts were exceptionally black, as if I were wandering inside a petroglyph.
Disciples were gathered in the corridor, talking. With arms crossed, one nudged the other with his elbow; another disciple, with a solemn expression, lifted his foot and subtly touched another disciple's ankle. The two disciples' eyes met, they smiled awkwardly, then looked away and blushed.
I heard the two disciples pass by me and swallow their breaths. I knew that sound. With a tense face, the troubled breath of someone unsure what to do next. After that, someone would reach out a hand, or with a coy expression, wrap an arm around the other's waist.
That was the future those disciples, who had just passed behind me, would stumble toward, and from now on, it was also the scene I would witness while coaxing and soothing Hong Ye.
Deolkeong.
The door closed. The disciples had disappeared.
I passed a moment pretending to admire the garden, then glanced at Hong Ye's door. The door stood open a crack, coyly, and through the gap she was watching me. The room and the corridor were both brightly lit, so I could see her face dyed bright red.
Hong Ye nodded.
I looked around once more, then nodded back to her.
Hong Ye hurriedly opened the door and gestured to me. Like a martial artist, I launched my body into her room at lightning speed. The door opened and closed simultaneously, and I, having jumped inside, looked at Hong Ye's back.
She had changed into comfortable clothes. The thin, fluttering nightgown revealed the outline of her bare flesh with every movement. Whenever the light caught it, the sight grew more vivid, and at times it became a faint shadow I had to squint to discern.
Hong Ye gathered her legs, checked the corridor once more, and softly closed the door. As she closed the door, her hips swayed, the lines of her undergarments clearly visible through her clothes, and her smooth buttocks clung to her pants, tempting me.
"I think it worked."
She said it in a subdued voice. The tension in her voice made even me flinch. I withdrew the hand that had been reaching for her butt and nodded, saying:
"It was perfect."
"Ye-yes."
Hong Ye was no conversationalist. When I brought something up, she always affirmed my words or answered in monosyllables and cut off the conversation. Then, as if blaming herself for not being able to continue, she would roll her eyes and fidget with her fingers.
I pressed myself close to her side. Hong Ye, who had once provoked me so boldly, was nowhere to be seen, and instead she shrank away, trying to keep her distance. I wrapped my hand around her waist and said:
"So, what did you intend to do, calling me to your room?"
Hong Ye straightened her back. She was clearly startled but did not flee from my hand. She stiffened and glanced at me. Whenever I smiled at her, Hong Ye's face grew even redder.
"F-first, holding hands...."
"Holding?"
I firmly took Hong Ye's hand. The hand that had practiced Taijiquan bore the marks of harsh training, so whenever I stroked it, she tried to avoid the callused areas. Her evading and my grasping were like a light sparring match, and after several attempts I finally held her hand tighter and said:
"Don't avoid it. A martial artist achieves through training—how can you be ashamed of the evidence of your efforts?"
"....But still...."
Hong Ye had nothing to say. But still, showing me her hand was a little embarrassing. We had clashed dozens of times before, and we had seen each other's hands countless times.
But the moment the wall of master and disciple crumbled and we were confined within the frame of lovers, she found it newly embarrassing to show her hand. I held that hand tighter and drew closer. It seemed not even a sheet of paper could fit between us.
"And next, what do you want to do?"
"A-an embrace...."
Before she even finished speaking, I embraced her body, pressing my chest to hers, softly. Did Hong Ye realize how firmly they were being pressed, enough to change shape?
"Ah...."
I saw her lift her chin and close her eyes with a soft moan. I enjoyed the soft sensation and stroked her back. Hong Ye, who had been holding her arms up as if carrying goods through a crowd, hesitantly lowered them and mirrored my caresses.
We stroked each other's backs, and pressed closer with force.
Sitting and embracing, we leaned diagonally into each other, forming the shape of the Chinese character 'person' (人), face to face. Hong Ye narrowed her eyes and looked at me. Her face was red, her lips wetter than ever.
The scent of the room, the silence outside, and the cool presence unique to night air enveloped us.
[What do you want to do next?]
The question didn't leave my lips. Because Hong Ye was naturally doing what she wanted to do next. Since I had been accommodating her so far, it seemed she now wanted to take the lead and show me what she desired.
Her hand stopped stroking my back, and she put her weight on me. Though I could have resisted, I collapsed powerlessly. Hong Ye reached out, brought a pillow to support my head, and very slowly laid my body down.
"Hoo...."
Hong Ye steadied her breathing again.
Her chest was rising and falling. From below, the firm pertness of her chest half-hid her face with each rise, then revealed it again.
Her hand pressed on my chest, and Hong Ye parted her legs and climbed on top of me. Her firm thigh brushed against my knee and then came up onto my thighs as if mounting a horse. The sound of fabric rustling lewdly echoed, and Hong Ye wore an unfamiliar expression at the sensation of her inner thigh touching then separating from mine.
"Haa...."
She let out another breath. Though nothing had happened yet, her face was dyed bright red. Hesitantly, she placed a hand on my face and closed her eyes.
Her tongue slipped between my lips. I was just lying still with my mouth open, but Hong Ye's rough breaths and our tongues intertwined. Her chest rubbed against my lying body, and she pressed her legs against my groin.
"Hmm... haa... hoo...."
For minutes, we tangled tongues. Hong Ye was savoring this moment, wishing it would last forever. I stroked her back, rubbed her thighs, and enjoyed how her body showed lewd and unfamiliar reactions every time I touched her.
"Haa...! Ah...!"
Those moans were good too.
"Eumm...! Hut...!"
I liked how when I touched her buttocks, she flinched and stiffened, but when it seemed I was pulling my hand away, she proactively brought my hand back up to her rear.
I liked her slightly perverted look as her nipples stood firm, protruding through her clothes, and she secretly enjoyed the sensation of them rubbing slowly against my chest.
And when my fully aroused member pressed firmly against her groin, poking and prodding, and I saw her flustered look shift to an even more coy, girlish expression as she shyly lifted her hips, that was good.
"Ah...."
She seemed to be racking her brains. She had no idea what to do next.
I sat up to relieve her worries. When I suddenly rose, Hong Ye, who was riding me, flinched and her hands trembled.
I rubbed her chest with one hand and pulled down her nightgown with the other.
My fully erect member poked at her through the clothes, and I deliberately pressed her shoulders and intertwined our tongues. At the teasing sensation tickling her lower belly, Hong Ye let out a breath with closed eyes, and her hands too began stripping away my clothes.
When we came to our senses after a flurry of caresses,
her bronze skin shone beautifully under the light, glowing even more.
Light and color were extremely personal.
Even under the same lighting, they showed different appearances depending on one's mental image and mood that day. Did the light read my heart and change on its own? Or was there no light there to begin with, and did I merely think something different existed according to my mood?
Amid these questions without answers, one thing I was certain of was that Hong Ye was dyed in a very lewd color today.