Corridor
My eyes flutter open on their own. Sunlight filters gently into the room, soft enough not to dazzle. "Mm..." An unfamiliar ceiling, an unfamiliar room, and my naked body. I jolt upright in surprise, yanking the blanket over myself—only to realize belatedly that there's no need.
I've never slept this late before. Back home, with all those kids around, I could never stay in bed till noon. My bare white skin contrasts starkly against the thick gray blanket. A little erotic. A faint swell of arousal rises, and I stroke the mound between my legs. The traces from last night are dried and sticky. My skin keeps drawing my fingers back in. I let out a small sigh and force them away with effort.
I pull the blanket over my white skin and sit up. The air feels stuffy, thick with the hot breaths I've exhaled all night. I shuffle to the window, nudge the curtain aside, and crack it halfway open. The building's shadow keeps direct sunlight from pouring in, but it's bright enough to tell the sun's high in the sky. The vacant lot outside looks different in daylight than it did last night. Bigger than I thought, emptier too. Just a small pavilion at the far end and a few trees poking out from the woods beyond. No one around.
The building casting its shadow over the lot—I thought it was separate, but now it looks like it's connected in an L-shape. So that's all part of the dorm? It's tall, with tons of windows. No windows that look like rooms on this floor, but from certain angles, someone over there could probably see right into my room. Mmm, not bad at all. Moisture gathers on my skin under the blanket again.
"Guess I should wash up first?" My sticky pussy isn't that bad, but mornings are for showering. I draw the curtains securely over the open window—no way anyone can peek in now. A breeze rustles them now and then, but not enough to reveal anything. Only then do I let the blanket slip away, baring my body to the room. In the dim light without the lamp on, a naked woman stands exposed. Memories of last night flood back, and droplets form between my legs.
"Gotta check out the surroundings first..." It's only been a day since leaving home, and I'm already this worked up? The persistent dampness refuses to fade, and even I have to laugh at how ridiculous it is.
"Mm..." I know I should use the towel from yesterday, but I grab the last dry one from home instead, wiping my whole body clean. The fluffy dryness feels so much better than a damp rag. I hang it neatly beside yesterday's used one and gather up the clothes I tossed around last night.
I didn't get to explore when I arrived late yesterday, so today I will. That's when my eyes catch the underwear flung into my suitcase. Right in the middle of the panties, last night's fluids have dried into a white crust. Ugh, can't wear those. But I have nothing else? ...Yeah, no choice since I don't have anything clean. I mumble excuses even I don't believe as I slide my bare feet into my pants. Black fabric—any wet spots won't show. That's why I packed them, really.
Bare skin straight into wide-leg pants and a light short-sleeve tee. I deliberately avoid looking at the bra next to the dirty panties. I didn't see anything. Didn't see it, so I'm not wearing it. That's the plan—head out like this, scout the area, come back. Gotta know the lay of the land if I want to play around from now on. Just thinking about it makes the space between my legs dampen again. Am I really in heat or something? I can smell the sweet scent of my own breath. My heart pounds with strange anticipation, racing like it might stop if I fuck up.
I slip into my sneakers by the door. Need to buy slippers next time. I turn the handle carefully to avoid noise. Screech. The metal grates, and my body freezes. What do I do? Closing it would make noise too. What if someone hears? What if someone's right outside? Clutching the door—open just wide enough for a head—neither shutting nor opening it fully, moisture starts building between my legs again. The sensation stiffens me further.
"Haa..." I stand like that forever, but nothing happens. Of course not—the whole dorm's empty except for me. Just the two guards downstairs in the security office. No one's rushing over for a door creak. I peek through the gap: just the empty blue corridor greeting me, as expected. I step one foot out. Doing in reality what I've only fantasized about, dreamed about. Out in the hall with nothing underneath. Gonna go all the way outside like this.
"Ah." My hand slips off the handle. Bang! The door slams shut with a racket that would've brought the whole building running in my old place. I cringe—what if someone comes? But no one does. Not even the security guys.
"Phew." I exhale in relief and pad down the hall. Midway, an elevator and emergency stairs lead outside; at the end, the laundry room. Beyond the elevator, a glass door to the outdoors. Even outside, it feels like a terrace—tiled ceiling stretching up. Wind whistles sharply through the glass door. Private bathrooms per room, but shared laundry, huh. Gotta buy detergent too. Lots of shopping to do. But it all just reinforces how alone I am for the next few days.
No panties—maybe that's why, or the anticipation—my heart won't stop racing as I reach the elevator. What would it feel like to strip here? The thought surges excitement. Fleeting fear and self-disgust brush by, but they pass. Something fills my chest, tension building until I can't move. Everyone passes through here... flashing them would feel... so good...
Before I know it, my hand grips the hem of my tee. Stupid. But even stupid would feel good... My hand creeps up. Past my belly, past my solar plexus... Soon my pale breasts will bare themselves to the hall. No bra as a final barrier—just straight out into the open. The cool air makes them quiver. That swelling pressure chokes my chest; breathing's hard. Ragged breaths escape nonstop. My hazy mind drowns in pleasure, thoughts dissolving. Why does this feel so good...?
My huge expanse of flesh reflects in the shiny elevator doors. Real pervert shit. Standing in the middle of a three-way intersection who-knows-how-traveled, tits out. Pure pervert. Lewd pervert who only knows pleasure. Horny juices drip from my pussy. I feel them soaking into my pants, weighing them down. Can't get them wet...
I release the tee—it catches on my perky breasts, won't go lower. Fingers hook into my waistband. Pants slide down my legs in seconds. The elevator doors glow entirely flesh-toned. Everywhere I look: skin. Can't get caught... If the elevator opens now, no time to dress. No, my limbs tremble too hard to hide or run. Total ruin. Rumors would spread through this school I'll attend for years—no hiding anymore. Everyone would know I'm a slutty exhibitionist pervert. They'd curse me on sight, sneer, point and laugh. Tease me as easy, guys swarming to try their luck. I'd do the same. It's stupid, yeah. Deserved. But it feels so good—what can I do? Laugh all you want. Point away. No, that'd make it even better... Curse me while you look. Please. I'm a pervert. A pervert who loves showing off out here.
"Eut, uuup, ha... Ah! Nng, ah, aaaaa!!"
My toes curl instinctively, barely holding me up. My waist buckles; I double over. I don't fall—pure luck. Hot breaths pour out in my bent pose.
"Haa, haa..." Didn't even touch... I came. Never felt this good before... First time... My pants at my feet are soaked through—if I wring them, water would drip.
Then—a rattle from the glass door ahead. My body locks rigid in this ugly pose. The insults I'd just imagined flash through my mind. No, no! Nothing. Just the wind shaking the door.
"Phew..." Relief sighs out as I yank my pants up frantically. The cooled, clinging fabric chills my legs with every touch. Well, yeah—stripping like this out here? Chills are appropriate. That was close. What if someone had come, Im Ha-yoon?
Someone whispers deep in my chest. But it felt good, didn't it? Ever felt this good before?