Let's Do It
I had a vague sense that rubbing something between a pair of breasts felt good.
Having experienced it myself before, the sensation came back to me in vivid little flashes. Since I didn't have any of my own right now, the whole thing carried a slightly more fantastical edge.
Maybe this was what it meant to trick yourself into believing something was still there when it wasn't.
Then again, I had had them once, so the feeling arrived a little more sharply than pure imagination.
I pushed my breasts together from below, gathering them toward the center, and slowly rubbed them up and down. Whenever the head of his cock peeked out at the top, I flicked my tongue across it. When he got close, I took it into my mouth for a moment at a time.
At first the whole thing was so grotesque I wanted to refuse, but as I kept going the revulsion blurred, and I found myself repeating the motion without thinking. The residual unease never fully left, but it was bearable enough if I just let it ride.
I could feel him twitching inside the soft press of my breasts.
Was he about to come? The thought made me tighten my grip, putting more force into my wrists.
Every time his hips jerked, a little sigh mixed into his breathing, and that alone made me pick up the pace.
"…Oh—I'm gonna come."
Doing it with my chest made it almost impossible to tell how far along he was. I only got a hazy sense of it from his face and the way his body moved, and the uncertainty was frustrating.
Still, I supposed I should be grateful Song Haneul had said it out loud.
Knowing the edge was right there, I hurried even as I felt the pull in my arm muscles.
It didn't take long. Song Haneul clenched his teeth hard. With a strained little sound, the cock nestled between my breasts pulsed. After a few heavy, pounding thrusts into the soft flesh, the tip that had been peeking out spat cum straight at me.
Something strange slipped into my mouth while I was still blankly repeating the same motion.
"Nngh."
Song Haneul's cock kept pumping out semen as he moaned. I jerked my head back in shock, but it was already too late—he kept surging, dirtying my face and chest in thick pulses.
Terrified more of it would get in my mouth, I opened wide in a dry-heave, but the slick, coating texture and the raw, briny taste left me reeling.
"Ugh."
My wandering eyes found Song Haneul looking down at me.
We were indoors, so spitting what was already in my mouth felt wrong; I covered my lips with one hand and bolted for the bathroom. I dunked my head under the faucet, scrubbed my face clean, and rinsed my mouth over and over.
No matter how many times I rinsed, the slippery, clinging sensation refused to leave. In the end, only the unpleasantness remained.
This was not the kind of experience I had ever expected to have in my life.
"Gross…"
I pulled a face and stuck my tongue out.
It didn't feel like my tongue anymore. It wasn't actually rotten, of course, but something about it still felt spoiled.
"I liked it, though."
"Switch bodies back now."
"No. You didn't even do it properly."
"That's not what you said…"
"You're the one who changed the deal. You said you'd use your mouth. In the end you just used your chest. Your mouth barely did more than flick around."
"Seriously?"
Even while I told myself that wasn't fair, the accusation that I'd half-assed it—from ass to mouth to chest—hit a nerve. It did feel like I'd been dodging, and the result had ended up nothing like what he'd wanted, which made me flinch.
That didn't mean I had any idea what to do about it. Honestly, it wasn't easy, and my eyes kept sliding away.
I'd just wanted to keep things simple and easy. Apparently things weren't going to resolve that simply.
"Hmph."
Song Haneul kept moving his hand, looking thoroughly unsatisfied.
He milked out every last drop still left in the urethra, then scrambled up onto the bed.
The cock that had just come slowly tipped over and went soft again.
Judging by the way he casually fished a condom out of the bag he'd brought, he clearly planned to go again once he recovered.
"I bought these. Let's do it."
"…No. You said the mouth was enough."
"You said putting something down your throat was hard. And you're not going to practice, either."
"Why would I practice that?"
The idea of practicing so I could take that thing into my throat was ridiculous on its face.
"I'm not satisfied."
"You came once. Isn't that enough…?"
"Do you get satisfied after one or two rounds and call it a day? Are you a premature ejaculator? No, you're not."
Song Haneul pointed a finger at me, eyes half-narrowed.
"Hearing you say that feels weird."
"Well, right now you kind of are one."
"That's your body."
"Whatever."
Being called a premature ejaculator left a strange taste in my mouth.
It wasn't even my body, and still, hearing that I finished too easily felt wrong in a way that went beyond ordinary. It wasn't that I came easily on my own—something huge was going in, and I couldn't help it.
Just the feeling of being completely filled was already hard for a woman to endure.
If it had been smaller, I wouldn't have reacted this sensitively.
I glared at Song Haneul, who tossed out rude remarks without a second thought. He saw the look and just smiled, letting it slide right off him, which only made me more irritated for no good reason.
After resting a little, Song Haneul got hard again and rolled a condom on.
The whole process looked so natural I just stared. By the time I realized he was closing in on my body, it was already too late. His hand had closed on the half-open front of my robe.
Like a judo throw, he grabbed the collar and shoved me hard.
The force hit so fast I couldn't even resist—I went straight down. Flat on my back on the bed, I let out a startled gasp as the situation finally registered.
"Hey—hey… are you forcing this?"
I managed the words through a cold sweat.
I'd come here today with the strong sense that we'd wrap things up quickly and switch bodies, so Song Haneul's full-on, let's-have-a-real-round attitude left me a little rattled.
Honestly, coming this far and then telling him to be moderately satisfied and go home would feel awkward too—but the feeling of not understanding him and somehow understanding him at the same time pulled an uneasy smile out of me.
"Yeah. I kind of want to force it."
"This is actual rape. I don't want to do it today."
Did it feel good? I would admit that.
But when something got repeated too often, there were days you just wanted to rest.
Of course we hadn't done it recently, but still—it felt like too much.
In some ways you could say we were compatible; in others, not so much. Either way, it left me thoroughly cornered.
"Rape is a bit much. You really go for the dramatic wording, huh?"
"Your behavior is the dramatic part."
"So—you don't like it?"
"I don't want to do it today."
"Then tell me separately when you do want to?"
"…Yeah."
I said it, but then what would that actually mean?
"Then I'll tell you when I want to, too."
"When do you want to? Let's set a date."
"Around February."
"Hey! You know that's not okay."
I snapped it out in pure disgust, but Song Haneul didn't care at all as he climbed off me.
"Why? You drag things out and put them off whenever you feel like it. Why can't I only do it when I want to?"
"…Even so."
"You said right away you wanted to do it with your ass, then decided you didn't want to and asked me to pull out—and I did."
"That was because we still had to eat… And what if it stretched open and wouldn't close again?"
I tried to sell it as a perfectly reasonable reason, but Song Haneul ignored me and ticked points off on his fingers.
"You said you'd do it with your mouth, so we agreed on that—then when you actually got here you just licked around a little and ended up covering it with your chest."
"A throat doesn't just open up overnight. What you've seen is actors working their asses off for the camera."
"And then you tried to put that off too because you didn't want to do it. On top of that, you say you don't want sex either. So what the hell do you want?"
The direct question left me with nothing to say. I pursed my lips and looked away. I realized that after dodging and refusing everything, even bringing up negotiation or compromise had become embarrassing.
I wished he'd spare a thought for my situation—being the one who had to take every kind of play now that I was a woman—but saying that out loud probably wouldn't go over well.
Women had more things to worry about than men, so Song Haneul, living the reverse, had a tendency to think of everything as easier than I did.
From the clothes I wore on up, there were a dozen things I had to mind. Because it was convenient for him, he didn't seem to put much thought into my side of it.
"So today… if I say I'll do it, will you?"
"No. I'm not in the mood anymore."
The curt reply left me flustered.
After refusing everything, maybe this ending had been inevitable.
Barely an hour had passed—what was I supposed to do now?
I'd refused everything and frittered the time away, and somehow an hour was gone. It felt like more time had passed and also like we'd done almost nothing, and my sense of the clock had gone completely fuzzy.
The fact that if I didn't do something with the time left I'd have to hold out until February landed with a strange, uneasy weight.
I knew getting angry and demanding it wouldn't mean anything, which only made me more desperate.
If I'd just known the conditions clearly from the start, things might have been better—but realizing that everything I'd thought I understood so far had been wrong only made my head more complicated.
"…Want to?"
I reached out hesitantly.
He was close enough that I could catch the edge of his sleeve.
I gave it little tugs, watching his face. Hoping even a little of the frost would melt, I called to him in a soft voice.
"Let's do it."
I even gave him a gentle shake. The mood had gone cold, yes—but there was irritation mixed in too, and it didn't look like this was going to blow over quickly.
Men could sulk for a long time when they got in a mood, and women were worse if anything.
I forgot sometimes, but remembering that this one's original self was a woman made him endlessly exhausting whenever he decided to be difficult.
"Hm?"
"…There's no sincerity."
"What kind of sincerity am I supposed to show?"
I stared at him with narrowed eyes.
I didn't even know what "sincerity" was supposed to mean here.
If we were going to do it, we just did it.
Of course, I had hurt his feelings too.
"You do it."
I stared blankly at the condom he'd yanked off and tossed aside.
Part of me wondered if living on allowance money had wrecked his sense of value, but at the same time I vaguely understood what he meant, and I just blinked at him like an idiot.
"For real?"
"For real."
"Uh—uh-huh."
My wandering gaze was pulled toward the box of condoms sitting on the table.